Wednesdays in the Word: Verse N

Anyone else get saved about 417 times growing up? Yeah, I was one of those kids. Every time they gave an altar call at church {do churches even do that anymore??...not gonna lie...miss that...} I'd rush to the front with the rest of the teens and get re-saved. It seemed that the hardest lesson of that season of my life was absorbing that Jesus really had saved me. I asked Him to and He did. And that was that.

I think the last time I got saved was toward the end of high school, when I was babysitting two of my regular kids, and rather than watching their standard choice of Homeward Bound, they chose Aladdin for their evening movie. Somewhere after the magic carpet ride through the cave of molten lava, I took a "bathroom break" and asked Jesus into my heart one more time...because that animated lava reminded me anew I did not want to go to hell.

That time seemed to "take" in my mind. I settled into being assured that I belonged to Jesus...heart, mind, and soul.

But just as that happened...it seemed I faltered in another area. Maybe you're with me on this one too:

The comparison games began...and oh how they intensified as I got older and began exploring life as an adult.

This friend could sing...beautifully. If I could sing beautifully, I could find so many ways to serve and minister within the church.

That one had the gift of teaching. And so did I...I was told...but oh...if only I had her poise and grace and wisdom...I could really teach. Really go places with that.

She was a mom, and a good one. {There was a season when I wanted to be a mom...and being around moms really got to me. I wanted to be able to shape a young life like my friends could do with their kids. Over the years, my desire for that changed, and it's no longer something I crave, but for many years, I felt like I fell short because I didn't fulfill that role...and at that time in my life, I couldn't.}

This one had the gift of hospitality. People gravitated to her home, and not because she threw elaborate parties or lived in a mansion, but just because it was a warm, lovely place to be, and I wanted people to feel that way about my home.

And oh...did you see her? She writes. Not just in a journal...but books. Books that people read and love.

And with each comparison, I began to convince myself that nearly every person on earth had a significant place in the body of Christ...except me. I knew I had gifts and talents, and I did use them to the best of my ability, but I felt they still paled in comparison to those around me.

For years and years and {sometimes still this very day}...the comparison game gets the best of me. It takes a conscious retraining of my mind every time it happens to remember that I am just as important in the Body of Christ as the best author, the best radio host, the best homemaker, the best wife, the best teacher, the best singer, the best mom...

...Jesus views me with as much love and tenderness as He does each of His other children. And regardless of how big or small my role ends up being in the world at large, my job is to do it well. And my offering, combined with the offerings of those who serve around me...matters.

So. Much.

It's a lesson I learn as many times as I got saved as a kid. And one day...one day...I pray it sticks forever.