When I was in Kindergarten, I walked to school. At the street crossing, a traffic cop directed traffic with hand signals and a whistle. One day I clutched a brand new box of crayons. At the signal I began to walk. Halfway across the road, the bottom popped out of my crayon box. I scrambled to retrieve my precious crayons, but the cop said, “No! Keep going!” I was hurried to the other side, and I sobbed as the passing cars ground my crayons into blotches of color on the pavement.
For some reason, this incident touched a deep chord in me. I remember feeling so insignificant. Wasn’t I worth it? Couldn’t the cop have helped me pick them up really fast? Why didn’t anyone care about my crayons, something that was so important to me?
Insignificant. Not worth loving. Not worth caring about. Often the feeling I felt in my childhood. Next week I’ll be 60 already, and that feeling still ravages my heart at times.
The truth is I’m sometimes my worst enemy. I too often treat myself as that cop and those cars treated my crayons. I crush myself with self-condemnation when I believe and internalize all the lies that taunt me. When I let them flatten me. When I let them define me. When I let compliments run off me like water off the back of a duck.
It takes so much energy though to keep addressing feelings and persevere in reminding myself of the truth. I can read the verses that show me who I really am in Christ Jesus over and over, but sometimes they refuse to slide from my head into my heart. I love to encourage others with these truths, but it’s hard for me to believe them for myself.
In Jesus’ time on earth, children were not valued either. But Jesus showed everyone differently by inviting children to come to Him. He took time to listen to children’s concerns and joys. He loved them so much and showed it in His kindness towards them, making them feel special and significant. His intentions towards them were always pure and honorable, wanting to help them instead of harm them.
Inside me there is still a child that feels abandoned and rejected. Unlovable and worthless. There is still a child crying to be validated and valued. To be loved and accepted just as I am. To be comforted, not hurt.
I get so confused sometimes. So frustrated and depressed. Why do those feelings still sometimes have such a hold on me? I want them wiped out forever, but they stick like gorilla glue.
I think I’m still walling up my heart. I’m still fearing to truly let Jesus in. Oh, sometimes I open the door a crack and let His love amaze me and comfort me. But so easily I slam the door shut again. It makes me cry, and my heart aches with longing for Him. So why do I keep doing it? I can’t live without Him, but I’m still so often afraid. Oh, how patient He is with me. He never gives up on me. He just keeps knocking. He just keeps yearning for me to open my heart wide so He can apply His liniment of love to heal those broken places. To lift that little girl in me and hold her to Himself. To whisper how precious and lovable she is to Him.
Do you feel unloved, unlovable, and insignificant? Jesus invites our inner child and our adult selves to pour out all our hurts to Him. He already knows them, but He still wants us to allow Him to touch those places we are so scared to allow anyone access to. He waits and longs for us to open our walled hearts and trust He wants to heal us, not harm us. To excavate those feelings of insignificance and lay them open to His healing love. To let His love define who we really are.
When His love defines us, rejection turns to acceptance. Our nothingness turns to priceless value. Our brokenness turns to beauty.
“He heals the brokenhearted
And binds up their wounds
[healing their pain and comforting their sorrow].”
Psalm 147:3 AMP
“Therefore the Lord waits [expectantly]
and longs to be gracious to you,
And therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you.
For the Lord is a God of justice;
Blessed (happy, fortunate) are all those
who long for Him [since He will never fail them].”
Isaiah 30:18 AMP
“And provide for those who grieve in Zion–
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD for the display of His splendor.”
“Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)”
by Hillsong United
Linking up with:
Holley – Coffee For Your Heart
Jennifer – Tell His Story
Kelly – Cheerleaders of Faith
Barbie – Weekend Whispers