I have a poster hanging near my bedroom door where I write down things that are true about myself. For the last 7 months I have been seeking out what God says about us, his creation, in scripture. And over the last five weeks I have been writing those things down on the poster board in my room. I underline the words and phrases I really need to hear. Chosen, strong, triumphant, fought for. I write the ones that are particularly meaningful to me in big letters. Heard by God, cared for, known. My eyes sometimes dart away from the ones I find hard to understand or accept. Never alone, valued, free, delighted in. There is not a single exception on that board. There is not a single one with a condition or qualification.
Some days I can celebrate and rest in those truths, but other days I don’t believe them.
It’s not always easy or comfortable to remind myself of God’s truth and actually believe it—that I am chosen and not rejected, forgiven and not condemned, known and not a stranger, free and no longer a slave to sin, a child of God and not an orphan. That I am lacking nothing, highly favored, set apart, and never alone. Sometimes it’s more comfortable and makes more sense to me to believe the opposite about myself because too often I think and act like the things God says about me aren’t true. I think this goes for a lot of us.
But whether or not we believe what God says doesn’t make his words less true.
When I feel rejected, the truth is I am chosen and delighted in. In my defeat, God has given me victory. Though I indulge in shame, God calls me righteous. Though I am weak, God is the strength of my heart. I am secure, protected, clothed with Christ, complete, full of authority, and wanted by God.
I’m asking the Lord to let those truths sink deep into my heart. In my darkest moments and in the times I feel ashamed of who I am, God’s words are still true. The thoughts I think toward myself don’t change who I am. They don’t change who I was created to be. Yes, I am broken. But the One who created me is whole and good.
