There’s a huge difference between slaves and children in our standing with God. A slave’s worth is primarily in his performance—what he can accomplish that’s of value to his master. A child has immense, permanent value no matter what he accomplishes, simply because of who he is—who he is to God.
The root of perfectionism like Ella’s is fear—the scarcity mindset of “not enough.” And fear is what drives us when we forget who we are and exactly why we belong to God. We act as though we’re servants, purposed only with serving God, winning souls, doing good, proving our salvation, even if we know better. Yet we’ve got it all backward, haven’t we? I know I did for many years.
What’s your story? How did God connect with you? More than anything, my personal story of being pursued is what solidifies in my mind the truth of why I’m rescued. I did nothing—I wasn’t even searching for him at the time. I thought I had him already back then, serving in the church and being connected to the Christian life, but God mercifully decided to get my attention in a personal way, to throw off the scales from my eyes, and show me what he actually wanted from me. You know what it was? Me. Not writing, not being a good enough person, not any kind of ministry or service—just me. Intimacy. Relationship. Father-and-daughter closeness that isn’t some small thing orbiting about my life with all the other things I have going on, but something all of life orbits around.
For a long time when he drew near, I couldn’t grasp it. I couldn’t wrap my head around why an astounding God of such breadth and depth and magnitude would really care to reach out to a broken, messed-up girl who’d fumbled so much in life. He could have anybody, create anybody—why me? Why pursue any of broken humanity? It made no sense.
The answer was vivid in my heart within minutes of asking that question—it doesn’t make sense, and that’s the rich definition of grace. It makes about as much sense as a parent’s love for a newborn who takes every last shred of its parents’ resources, emotionally and physically, and receives its parents’ unconditional love, yet it hasn’t been able to offer anything in return.
Speaking of children . . .
Little E, sweet girl of my heart to whom this story is dedicated, you’re sitting beside me as I write this story—and this note, even—the gentle pressure of your little arm against mine as we both type our “stories.” That sort of connection will always be open to you, no matter what. You are my daughter, which is all that’s required.
You have the same welcome with your heavenly Father—not related to anything you do or fail to do, but simply by virtue of who you are. Treasure it. Embrace it and lean into it the way you now lean almost unconsciously on my arm. If you ever become wrapped up in striving for love, hoping to gain someone’s attention, just know you already have God’s full heart (and mine) without doing a thing. You had God’s sacrificial love before you were even born, and he paid everything to have you close. Keep that in mind if the world makes you feel neglected, unwanted, or invisible. You aren’t. Where it matters, you aren’t.
You’re his. And that’s enough.