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Weakness: Your Greatest Weapon

If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness. 2 Corinthians 11:30 ESV

We don’t often like to admit our weaknesses. I spent years trying to hide mine. Let’s face it. We want others to see us as capable, confident, and strong. Few of us like to admit our vulnerabilities to ourselves, never mind acknowledge them to others.

Have you ever thought about why, dear one?

Seriously. Have you ever taken time to contemplate what’s behind the world’s disdain for weakness?

Perhaps you’ve never considered this thought before: The notions of this world are established by its prince (John 12:31, John 16:11). Satan himself pulls the strings to set up the ideals that govern this world. And he has decided that we should fear, despise and cover our weakness.

So why is he so intent on crushing weakness and promoting self-sufficiency?

Beloved, the enemy fears your camaraderie with weakness because he understands that your weakness holds the key to unlocking God’s strength. God reveals and perfects His power in weakness.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Corinthians 12:9

Dear one, your weakness might be the greatest spiritual weapon you possess in your arsenal. It is through your weakness—not your strength—that Christ’s power comes to rest on you.

As followers of Jesus, you and I have been given a great gift. The Holy Spirit resides within us, the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead (Ephesians 1:19-20).

And 2 Corinthians 4:6-7 teaches,

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

You, my friend, are a clay jar housing the light of the glory of God.

The enemy tries to keep our attention firmly fixed on the jar. He whispers that our value emerges from its strength. And he keeps us very concerned with its appearance.

But when we look closely at our clay shells, we see obvious evidence of wear and weakness. Life’s hardships have left us with tiny chips and cracks. Things like rejection, abuse, loss and disappointment have left conspicuous marks.

And we have been taught to despise weakness, so we work hard to hide them. We busily camouflage our chips and cracks with polish and pretense, trying to maintain the appearance of a perfect vessel. A vessel the world accepts.

Beloved, we fail to realize that every crack in our pottery provides a place for the light of the Spirit within us to escape and reveal His glory.

What if we stopped trying to repair and maintain our own jars of clay and surrendered them instead into the care of the Potter? What if we began to acknowledge our cracks and stopped trying to cover them? What if we even went so far as to break the jar?

Gideon knows a thing or two about the power of a broken jar. Perhaps you’ve heard his story. God found him threshing wheat in a wine press, hiding in fear from Israel’s enemies. Yet God called him a mighty warrior and then used weakness to defeat strength. He led him to victory over the vast Midianite army with only 300 soldiers.

You might be surprised at the weapons God instructed them to use. The men didn’t carry swords and shields. Instead,

. . . he divided the 300 men into three companies and put trumpets into the hands of all of them and empty jars, with torches inside the jars. Judges 7:16

Do you know how Gideon’s army defeated the enemy? They sounded the trumpets and shattered the jars, revealing the torchlight hidden within them. The enemy saw the light from the torches surrounding their camp and fled in confusion. Then,

. . . the Lord caused the men throughout the camp to turn on each other with their swords. (verse 22)

The value of the jars didn’t come from their appearance or their strength. They had value in the battle because they were easily broken. And their weakness allowed for the true weapon to show itself. Their frailty revealed the light within.

Beloved, the enemy does not tremble at the sight of your clay pot. But, oh, how he trembles at the light he knows you carry inside.

For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength. 1 Corinthians 1:25

Our fear of weakness has done exactly what Satan intended it to: it has made us weak.

Our fear of weakness has done exactly what Satan intended it to: it has made us weak. Click To Tweet

Are you ready to trust God with brokenness, dear one? You may just be amazed at the power you see unleashed.

A Mother’s Struggle to Trust

Not again.

Clutching my Bible and prayer journal, I retreated to my favorite chair, eager to spend some time with the Lord. Well, that’s what I told myself anyway. I really just wanted to feel better.

Here I am, Lord. I scratched the words on the page, searching for where to begin. Worship filtered through my headphones, the uplifting beat of the melody marking a stark contrast to my mood. My mind tuned to the lyrics, “All we need is You.”

Instantly, conviction pierced my heart with the unsettling knowledge that I didn’t agree—at least not that day. That day I needed more than Jesus. I needed Him to fix things.

Guilt compelled me to confess. I’m sorry, Lord. I want you to be enough, but this is too much . . .

A jagged scar from an old wound had just been torn open. The familiar longing for acceptance tugged at my heart, crying out for satisfaction. Rejection had found me again. But this time, it had come for my son.

That changes things. I can handle the battle when I’m at the heart of it. I’ve learned to trust God’s plans for me even when I can’t make sense of them. He’s proven Himself faithful over and over again.

But this felt altogether different. This wasn’t about me. This time my child’s heart had been shattered, and I desperately wanted to fix it. I can’t be expected to idly watch one of my precious ones suffer.

My heart rebelled at the injustice of it. Anger mingled with the pain, begging retaliation. This wasn’t fair. He deserved better.

God should do something.

Soon His gentle Spirit stirred within my heart, lifting the veil so I could see. Realization dawned, penetrating my grief with this undeniable truth: God knew. He understood rejection. He understood the pain of seeing His Son cast aside—of wanting the world to recognize His great value, yet seeing it deny Him.

“He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him.” John 1:11, ESV

In that moment, I knew His suffering. I felt His pain. How the Father must have wept when they rejected Jesus. How He still must weep as we repeatedly devalue His only begotten Son . . . the Son He loves . . . the Son He gave.

Hope flickered through my sorrow, God’s own understanding of my feelings encouraging me to press in close. I asked Him to speak to me, to help me trust Him with my own son’s fragile heart. I needed Him to help me believe what I knew His Word declared: that His plans for him are far greater than my own.

True to who He is, God answered. Once again, His Spirit stirred, reminding me of truth. God never allows suffering for its own sake. Suffering, according to Scripture, marks the path to glory.

“But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” 1 Peter 4:13, NIV

Then I knew. God had glory to reveal in my son’s life.

This pain would pass, and God would somehow bring good through it. It wasn’t what I would choose for him, but the God who created Him and wrote his story knew what I couldn’t. For whatever reason, my son needed to walk through this. His despair would not be in vain. Through it God would reveal Himself.

I sat in the stillness, pen in hand, and listened, inviting the God who speaks to do so again. Soon His quiet whisper stirred within me, and I found my hand moving once more across the page.

He is mine, beloved, just as you are mine. I AM greater than his pain . . . than your pain. You will soon see.

A promise.

Tears fell in response, my heart hopeful. God always keeps His Word.

I thought of Abraham and how he must have felt as he placed his son, Isaac, upon that altar. I imagine he did it with trembling hands and a breaking heart. But place him there, he did. And Isaac received the blessing that came through his father’s promise.

God had spoken blessings over my son as well, and I had a choice to make. I could retreat into my anger and justify my sorrow. Or, I could trust God to keep His Word in my son’s life. I could fight to change things and try to manipulate his circumstances so I’d like the look of them better, or I could choose to believe the God who speaks and entrust my son to Him with open hands.

I decided I wouldn’t withhold him from the God who loves him even more than I do . . . and then it came. I experienced Jesus’ promise from John 14:27,

 “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” ESV

The wonder of it always astounds me. I can’t explain the how of it. I simply revel in the miracle of it. But when I run toward Jesus in my confusion instead of from Him—and I listen—I find peace.

It happens the moment I resolve in my heart to believe.

Rising to Life

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die.” John 11:25

I had a good cry with Jesus this morning. A prayer journal I’ve been working through brought me to the streets of Jerusalem to witness His trial and execution. The scene did not evoke peace or comfort. The crowd grew ugly, crying out for blood.

The guards gladly gave it, pounding Jesus with fists and lashes, their mocking lips curled in treacherous smiles as they hailed Him “King of the Jews” and repeatedly beat a crown of thorns into His head. They spit on Him and mocked Him, then made Him carry His own cross, stumbling half dead through the streets to Golgotha. There, they hammered nails into His wrists and ankles, hanging Him between two thieves on splintered beams of wood.

I can barely stand the thought of it. My heart breaks for my Lord and friend when I think of what He suffered. I cannot imagine the searing rejection He felt, the pain He endured. If anyone ever had reason to rage against injustice, it was Jesus. He was innocent, undeserving; yet He suffered unspeakable pain. And at the hands of those He professed to love, many who only the week before had worshiped Him.

Yes, if ever anyone had reason to hold a grudge, it was Jesus. But He didn’t. Instead, He hung gasping for breath, ignored their insults, and uttered the impossible.

Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Luke 23:34

Unbelievable. The torture wasn’t even over. No one had apologized. In fact, they were still hurling insults at Him. His circumstances hadn’t changed. The people had not repented. Yet Jesus chose—in the midst of His pain—to release forgiveness.

It makes no sense to us. In fact, it’s almost unthinkable. It goes against every thread of instinct woven into our human nature. But that’s the point, actually. Our human nature rings synonymous with our fallen nature, and left unchecked it will destroy us.

Dear one, the part of you that rails against how unfair your circumstances seem—that screams you deserve better and schemes for retribution—that part of you has spent its life enslaved to sin and will always incite you to respond in ways that bring about death.

For when we were controlled by the sinful nature, the sinful passions aroused by the law were at work in our bodies, so that we bore fruit for death. Romans 7:5

Beloved, no good ever comes from following our “natural” instincts, because what feels natural to us comes from our life-long bondage to sin. Whenever we allow our old nature to guide our actions, death of some kind eventually results. Every time. And when we hold a grudge, it won’t be the one we harbor anger toward that experiences that death. No, our bitterness brings death to our own souls.

If you think about it, you’ll probably find you know that to be true. You’ve likely tasted the poison of bitterness and felt its effects.

Have you ever had an “enemy” so preoccupy your thoughts that you can hardly think about anything else? Anger overshadows every other emotion until it’s hard to imagine being capable of another feeling. Unrest steals your peace; anxiety consumes your joy. The very mention of your offender sets your heart racing and your blood boiling. Ugly thoughts linger. And most of the time, you just feel miserable.

Do you see it, dear one? Death. Is this what we fight to protect by refusing to forgive?

The perfect Son of God made a different choice as He hung from His cross. Why? Because Jesus, unbound by our destructive sin nature, knew that forgiveness was the only way to keep Himself free.

Jesus didn’t only offer forgiveness as a grand act of mercy toward humanity. Jesus had to forgive, dear one. Accepting that sin into His heart would’ve thwarted everything He had come to accomplish.

Think about it. What made Jesus able to conquer death and rise from the grave? He defeated sin and its resulting death by remaining the perfect, sinless, spotless Lamb. If Jesus had allowed bitterness to take root in His heart, even He would’ve missed experiencing the glory of resurrection.

Forgiveness had to take place, beloved, or Jesus would have remained in the grave. Bitterness would have kept our Savior from rising to life.

The same rings true for you, dear one. The power to rise from the dead lies within your own heart. You can trust your old nature and hold onto the resentment you have every right to carry. Or, like Jesus, you can choose to believe that resurrection life lies on the other side of forgiveness.

You may even experience the same miracle Jesus did. He didn’t just rise to glory; the grace that forgiveness unleashed brought about a direct change in His circumstances.

Just look at the thief that hung beside Him. He began that torturous day among Jesus’ accusers.  Matthew 27:44 records, “In the same way the robbers who were crucified with him also heaped insults on him.”

Amazingly, one of the thieves suddenly switched sides after Jesus’ famous, pardoning words. Luke 23:39-41 records the abrupt change.

One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!”

But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”

Jesus’ forgiveness released the power of grace to transform that thief’s hardened heart. In a powerful moment, Jesus’ opposition became His friend; His enemy became His ally. Transformation occurred because the faith expressed through forgiveness released God to move. And both Jesus and His accuser rose to new life.

Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” Luke 23:43

Beloved, your faith expressed through obedience opens the door to release God’s grace. Why not give forgiveness a try? You may just see your enemy become your ally.

“Everything is possible for one who believes.”  Mark 9:23

Weakness: Your Great Spiritual Weapon

If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness. 2 Corinthians 11:30

We don’t often like to admit our weaknesses. I spent years trying to hide mine. Let’s face it. We want others to see us as capable, confident and strong. Few of us like to admit our vulnerabilities to ourselves, never mind acknowledge them to others.

Have you ever thought about why? Seriously. Have you ever taken time to contemplate what’s behind the world’s disdain for weakness?

Perhaps you’ve never considered this thought before: The notions of this world are established by its prince (John 12:31, John 16:11). Satan himself pulls the strings to set up the ideals that govern this world. And he has decided that we should fear, despise and cover our weakness.

Why is he so intent on crushing weakness and promoting self-sufficiency?

Beloved, the enemy fears your camaraderie with weakness because he understands that your weakness holds the key to unlocking God’s strength. God reveals and perfects His power in weakness.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  2 Corinthians 12:9

Dear one, your weakness might be the greatest spiritual weapon you possess in your arsenal. It is through your weakness—not your strength—that Christ’s power comes to rest on you.

As followers of Jesus, you and I have been given a great gift. We house the Holy Spirit within us, the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead (Ephesians 1:19-20).

2 Corinthians 4:6-7 teaches,

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

You, my friend, are a jar of clay housing the light of the glory of God.

The enemy tries to keep our attention firmly fixed on the clay jar. He whispers that our value is found in its strength. And he keeps us very concerned with its appearance.

But when we look closely at our clay shells, we see obvious evidence of wear and weakness. Life’s hardships have left us with tiny chips and cracks that have sapped our strength. Things like rejection, abuse, loss and disappointment have conspicuously left their mark.

And we have been taught to despise weakness, so we work hard to cover them up. We busily camouflage our chips and cracks with polish and pretense, trying to maintain the appearance of a perfect vessel, a vessel the world accepts.

What we fail to realize is that every crack in our pottery provides a place for the light of the Spirit within us to escape and be seen. Our weak places allow for the release of God’s power.

What if we stopped trying to repair and maintain our own jars of clay and surrendered them instead into the care of the Potter? What if we began to acknowledge our cracks and stopped trying to cover them? What if we even went so far as to break the jar?

Gideon knows a thing or two about the power released from a broken jar. Perhaps you’ve heard his story. God found him threshing wheat in a wine press, hiding in fear from Israel’s enemies.  He called him a mighty warrior and then used weakness to defeat strength. He led him to victory over the vast Midianite army with only 300 soldiers.

You might be surprised at the weapons God instructed them to use. The men didn’t carry swords and shields. Instead,

. . . he placed trumpets and empty jars in the hands of all of them, with torches inside. Judges 7:16

Do you know how Gideon’s army defeated the enemy? They sounded the trumpets and shattered the jars, revealing the torchlight hidden within them. The enemy saw the light from the torches surrounding their camp and fled in confusion. Then,

. . . the Lord caused the men throughout the camp to turn on each other with their swords. (verse 22)

The value of the jars didn’t come from their appearance or their strength. They had value in the battle because they were easily broken. And their weakness allowed for the true weapon to show itself. Their frailty revealed the light within.

Beloved, the enemy does not tremble at the sight of your clay pot. But, oh, how he trembles at the light he knows you carry inside.

For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength. 1 Corinthians 1:25

Our fear of weakness has done exactly what Satan intended it to: it has made us weak.

Are you ready to trust God with brokenness? You may just be amazed at the power you see unleashed.

Shelter in the Storm

The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

Then a voice said to him . . .

1 Kings 19:11-13

Two all-too-familiar yet unwelcome guests had gripped my heart and sent me reeling. Fear and doubt scattered my thoughts, leaving me unsteady. My resolve to trust faded. I needed to find Jesus.

I rose early, breaking light just awakening creation to usher in the day. Only this particular morning, I did not rise to the peaceful stillness of a slumbering earth. A storm raged.

I took my place in my favorite chair under the shelter of my covered porch and watched the rain fall, wondering briefly if God had opened the skies to match my tears. Thunder shook the earth, literally rattling the chair beneath me. I felt each crack shudder through me, every pounding blow echoing the ache in my own fragile heart.

I clutched my Bible to my chest and lifted my face toward heaven, eyes closed. Could I have been wrong about your will for me, Lord? What am I supposed to do?

My thoughts settled on the news I received the night before, the email that had shattered the dream. Rejection. The amazing movement of God’s favor upon me had apparently been halted by a few brief words.

I thought of the journey that brought me here . . . the astounding clarity of God’s voice revealing His instruction . . . His power working through me to accomplish tasks beyond my ability . . . supernatural peace penetrating my being as the Spirit infused me with a gift of faith that enabled me to take a leap without fear.

Then I hit bottom. Rejection had derailed the vision and left me doubting all of it. I thought of the verse that had brought me to my knees, the moment God had revealed Himself personally to me by His covenant Name.

“I AM WHO I AM.” Exodus 3:14

The Lord had whispered into my soul. “Your journey has nothing to do with who you are. It has everything to do with who I AM.” And I believed Him.

Yet there I sat, broken and afraid, unsure of myself and needing reassurance. At that moment, the world seemed more powerful than my God.

Just a few days before, I had read about Elijah, hidden in the cleft of the mountain and longing to hear from the Lord. I remembered the howling wind and shattered rocks, the earthquake, and the fire. I remembered that God’s voice reached his ear through a gentle whisper while all the earth reeled in chaos around him.

I felt the earth shake and the wind blow. The storm raged, swirling rain cascading in angry torrents, yet I found myself safely under the protection of my covering, dry except for the slight sheen of moisture that hovered in the air and settled on my skin. I knew in my heart of hearts that Jesus was my Shelter in the storm. The words barely escaped my lips, my voice cracking through straining tears, “I need to hear your whisper on the wind.”

Immediately, I heard within my heart the gentle assurance of His voice. He didn’t explain, nor did He tell me what to do next. He simply whispered, “I love you.”

My heart responded, hopeful, questioning, lingering doubt causing me to falter . . . are you really here?  And my precious Jesus repeated Himself, “I love you.”

His presence embraced me, crowding out the doubt, Living Water infusing my spirit like morning dew on a leaf. Refreshing peace washed over me, leaving no room for the remnants of fear and doubt that sought to overtake me. The Prince of Peace had regained His claim upon my heart. I didn’t need to understand. I just needed to trust His love.

Blessed assurance. I hadn’t misheard His direction. He was still the same God who had been working His miracles, and He would continue to do so. His plans for me had not changed. He had simply altered my view of them. We were right on track.

Have uncertain circumstances caused you to doubt God’s plans for you? Are you reeling from a disappointment that’s making you question God’s power?

Don’t give the enemy a foothold, dear one. Run to Jesus. Allow His presence to strengthen you and renew your perspective. He hasn’t gone anywhere; the enemy’s just trying to convince you He has. Don’t let him win. Silence the roar by listening for the whisper. Embrace Jesus, and allow Him to carry you through to glory.

Embracing the Spirit of Truth

“But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all truth.” John 16:13

I sat with my Bible and my journal, eager to spend some time with the Lord. Well, that’s what I told myself anyway. I really just wanted to feel better.

“Here I am Lord,” I wrote. Worship music filtered through my headphones while my pen scratched out the words. A song began to invade my thoughts and my mind tuned to the lyrics, “All we need is you.” Instantly, conviction pierced my heart with the unsettling knowledge that I didn’t agree. At least not today. Today I needed more than Jesus. I needed Him to fix things.

I felt compelled to confess. “I’m sorry Lord. I want you to be enough, but this is too much . . . ”

A jagged scar from an old wound had just been torn open. The familiar longing for acceptance tugged at my heart and cried out for satisfaction. Rejection had found me again. But this time, it had come for my son.

That changes things. I can handle the battle when I’m at the heart of it. I’ve learned to trust God’s plans for me even when I can’t make sense of them. But it’s different for my kids. I can’t be expected to idly watch one of my precious ones suffer.

And then the Spirit lifted the veil so I could see. Realization dawned, penetrating my grief with this truth. God knew. He understood rejection. He understood the pain of seeing His Son cast aside. Of wanting the world to recognize His great value, yet seeing it deny Him. 

“He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.” John 1:11

Today, I knew His suffering. I felt His pain. How the Father must have wept when they rejected Jesus. How He still must weep as we repeatedly devalue His only begotten Son. The Son He loves. The Son He gave.

I asked God to speak . . . to help me trust Him with my own son’s fragile heart . . . to know that His plans for Him are far greater than my own.

And once again, the Spirit reminded me of truth. God never allows suffering for its own sake. Suffering, dear one, is the path to glory.

“But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” 1 Peter 4:13 

God has glory to reveal in the life of my son.

I sat in the stillness, pen in hand, and listened, inviting the Spirit to show me my son’s truth. Soon my hand was moving once more across the page.

He is mine, beloved. Just as you are mine. I AM greater than his pain . . . than your pain. You will soon see.

A promise. I thought of Abraham, and how fearful he must have felt as he placed his son, Isaac, upon that altar. I imagine he lifted him there with trembling hands and a breaking heart. But place him there, he did. And Isaac received the blessing of his father’s promise.

God has spoken blessings over my son as well. I will not withhold him from the God who loves him even more than I do. I lift him to the Father with open hands so that he may receive His promise. How thankful I am for the Spirit of Truth.

“But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come.” John 16:13 

Glory!

 

Chosen to Belong

Out of all the peoples on the face of the earth, the LORD has chosen you to be his treasured possession. Deuteronomy 14:2

As a teen, I remember frequently walking the halls of high school with my eyes glued to the floor. I guess I felt that if I didn’t make eye contact I could slip into obscurity. If I didn’t see them, they couldn’t see me. Irrational, I know, but you do what you can to protect yourself.

Most of the time, I felt very much alone. I became quite good at hiding my pain, but emptiness followed me. Plagued by the notion that I was somehow not “good enough,” I did the only thing I knew to do:  I strove to be.

But my actions rarely brought about the results I had planned. The people in my life didn’t cooperate with the expectations in my mind, and my heart translated each disappointment and hurt as rejection. Each new wound reinforced these two inner truths that I came to know and recognize with resounding clarity:

  • I must not be worthy of love.
  • I must do my best to earn it.

In an attempt to earn the love and acceptance of those around me, I pursued perfection. I wouldn’t do anything unless I could do it well, and that often left me sitting on the sidelines. Security continued to elude me, and I rarely felt safe in relationships. I often felt as though I would never belong anywhere.

Have you ever struggled over your own sense of belonging? I imagine you have. A common thread appears to weave itself through many tattered lives: the aching wound left by the sting of love withheld.

What’s your story? Perhaps a parent or spouse that doesn’t know how to show love, peers that only offer their friendship when it suits them, or the lingering pain of offering your heart to someone who took it and ran. Regardless of the manner, we’ve all faced the sting of rejection.

Praise God for Romans 1:6, “And you also are among those who are called to belong to Jesus Christ.”

We have been called to belong to the King of Kings!  Jesus desires you. He chooses you. And He will never forsake you. We don’t have to convince Him to love us; He already does.

I discovered later that during those years of loneliness when I was convinced that nobody wanted me, Jesus had been pursuing me. He wanted me. He loved me . . . enough to die for me . . . and for you.

Zephaniah 3:17 offers this wonderful promise, “The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.”

I am so grateful for the day my striving for acceptance came to an end and Jesus quieted me with his love. Nothing particularly significant marked the day. It was simply the day I turned toward Jesus in answer to His call. He asked me to love Him, and I responded with the life-altering realization that I wanted to trust Him with my heart.

From the moment I opened my heart to Him, He began to fill the void cut deep in my core by all those years of rejection. As I sought His Word to discover who He really was, I found a Savior who chose me, loved me, took great delight in me, and accepted me just as I was. I didn’t need to become something I wasn’t to earn His love. He just loved me, in spite of me.

A miraculous thing took place in my life as the striving ceased. The acceptance and love I had sought after for so long was suddenly offered to me without my seeking it! I found myself surrounded by a circle of friends who loved and accepted me, flaws and all.

It wasn’t until later that I even realized what had happened. Jesus’ love had healed the crippled and broken pieces of my heart, making me finally able to receive love. And then, the Giver of all good gifts lavishly gave.

Jesus delights in you. He asks you to delight in Him, and His petition comes with a promise.

Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:4

He chooses you to be His. Accept His invitation to belong and discover a love beyond measure. Jesus, dear one, is worth the risk.

 

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