Who do you think you are?

“Who do you think you are?” “You are nothing special.” “Don’t bother me [with your presence, your talk, your thoughts].” We get this from others, from the world, all the time. Sometimes we sense it by their expressions, their silences, their glares. Other times we hear it out loud. Some of us get it from the ones who are supposed to love us – from their words, from their deeds, from their neglect.

What are we to do with this? Some are set afire; they burn with determination, vowing to rise to such heights, accomplish such marvels that nobody can deny that they not only exist, but conquer. Others lock the ugly words inside themselves and chew on them for so long that they become part of who we are, how we view ourselves. They say, “How could anyone love me?  How can God love me? I am nothing! A worm!”

The self fights this. “I am someone! I will make you love me, because I am worthy of love!” And so the battle begins. Battles with words that scream, that wound, that defy the neglect and ignorance. Some battle by leaving, setting out in search of self, of someone to acknowledge their existence and their greatness. And some just wither up and die, slipping through the dark waters into silent oblivion.

But hear what God says: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior…You are precious and honored in my sight, and…I love you.” (Isaiah 43:1-4)

Feeling small, like you don’t matter? Feeling neglected, unloved? Take the hand of the One who sees you, sees your pain, feels your loneliness. The One who knows you best and sings over you (Zephaniah 3:17). The One who so values you that He was willing to die so that you could be with Him forever.

Lord, help us to see ourselves rightly – not as the world sees us, not as less or more than we are, but as redeemed and deeply loved by You. Help us dedicate our lives and hearts to You so that we may know the joy of living with purpose. Amen.

Faithful God, Untrusting People

Today I read from Exodus chapters 13-15. The Israelites had seen the plagues God sent upon Egypt, and the last one should have been fresh in their minds – how all of the firstborn of Egypt (human and animal) were killed except for Israel’s children, simply through blood on the thresholds of their doorways and the Lord’s protection.

They saw how Pharaoh had relented and let them go, how the Egyptians gave them clothing and gold, so that they left slavery with more than they actually owned. All of this occurred through God’s mighty power – after 430 years in Egypt, He heard their prayers and freed them from slavery in a huge, memorable way.

Yet a few short days (weeks? Hours?) later, we find them terrified as they see the Egyptian army chasing them. Granted, the approach of 600 chariots would strike fear into our hearts too. But hadn’t they just seen God’s mighty hand at work? Did they truly believe He had abandoned them now? Or did they think He was sleeping or somehow unable to defeat this mighty army?

“What is this you have done? We would rather be Egyptian slaves than die in the desert!” they cried.

What weak hearts.  What nonexistent faith. The proof of God's presence was right before their eyes – the pillar of cloud by day, the pillar of fire by night. Yet they either forgot Him or felt He would no longer protect them or that He was somehow inadequate against the Egyptian army.

It’s a good thing Moses, their leader, believed God. He encouraged the people in spite of their grumbling. And all of them saw – once again – the Lord’s deliverance in that situation. How could they not see it?

The wind divided the sea and the Israelites walked through on dry sandy soil, with a wall of water to their left and to their right. And after they had all passed through, as the Egyptians pursued them, the Lord closed the sea and not a single Egyptian survived.

Then all of Israel rejoiced and praised God. For a few minutes, anyway. Until they became thirsty and hungry and the grumbling started again.

I find the Israelites' faith so weak, so easy to criticize - and yet somehow familiar.  Were I in their shoes, I would praise God and trust Him to take care of me. Or would I?

The bitter South Dakota winters bring out the worst in me. Though I grumble throughout the year, in this season I become a chronic whiner. I lash out verbally against the wind, the snow, the cold, to anyone who will listen. (And many who won’t. My daughters tire of hearing it.)

I told my husband yesterday that if he were to die, it would take me only ten minutes to move to a state with better weather. He laughed. “I guess I’d best keep our assets easy to sell, since you'll need cash.”

But, whether I like it or not, complaining is sinful. The Israelites’ complaints and my gripes are all in the same category. When I rail against the weather, or the large disasters or small inconveniences of my day, I seek my immediate comfort.  I forget His past goodness, His continued presence, and His future promises.

It’s as if I’m saying, “Lord, I don’t like where You’ve placed me. I don’t trust You to work this to my good. I don’t want to learn the lessons You want to teach me here.”

In the process of becoming Christlike, I have so many miles yet to go.

Father, Help me to learn from the Israelites. Help me to stop fighting You and to relax, trusting that You will work all things for my good as part of Your kingdom. Let me focus on all that You have done for me and trust in Your loving plan for my future.  Forgive my sinful, complaining spirit, and help my words to be fruitful and sweet.  Amen.