How often do we measure ourselves in numbers?
Numbers on the scale, number of likes, numbers on a test, numbers on the tag of our jeans, or the dreaded sum of others’ opinions of us.
David was tempted to measure his value and strength as king by the number men in his kingdom.
David gave orders to Joab and the army officers under him,
“Canvass all the tribes of Israel, from Dan to beersheeba, and get a count of the population. I want to know the number.” (1 Chronicles 21:2)
I want to know my numbers too. I just need a quick peek, I tell myself.
False Calculations
Sometimes I lumber my body and fragile heart up onto the scale. I swallow hard and sink inside when the number rises too high. Or I assess how many followers I have on my blog, and my heart plummets or soars when I scan the number. And if someone criticizes me, instead of using it as a tool for growth, that one opinion dilutes all the praise I ever dared to receive.
See, I’m good for nothing. The age old lie resounds within.
Every time the numbers flux my confidence wavers. I can almost see God the Father draw in a sigh, and cup His hand over His brow. Exhaling, his eyelids lower in a slow blink, My girl forgot who she is, again.
Why do we torture ourselves?
God help us to bring ourselves back to you. Help us to throw those values in the trash.
You value us.
You value us.
You value us.
You count the stars and call them all by name.(Psalm 147:4)
Holy God, in a sky full of stars, You know exactly who I am.
Sure, I am surrounded by other shining stars, but He hones in on my brilliance. “Oh look,” He says, “there’s Tara, she’s something, isn’t she?”
Can you hear YOUR name spilling out from God’s lips for all of heaven to hear?
Unreliable Figures
I read Psalm 147:4 for the first time over two decades ago.
I was a very fragile 20-something. My face reflected the look of a girl who might cut you if you said something wrong. But mostly I was scared and hated myself.
Jesus came into my life during that time, so I began toying with the idea that maybe I was special. If He could see me, maybe I wasn’t so bad after all.
During those early days of knowing Jesus, my friends and I went to a young adult conference. Before the first speaker took the podium, the coordinating pastors tossed books they’d written to people in the audience. Some young conference goers raised their hands wildly or ran up to the stage hoping to receive a book. Their boldness stoked a chuckle from the speakers.
Finally, the conference organizer took the stage waving a book I was interested in. My friends urged me to go near the stage and raise my hand for the book. So I did.
This could be embarrassing, I thought, but why not take a chance? Maybe he would give it to me, maybe not. The worst that could happen was he would overlook me and give it to someone else. I decided I could handle that worse-case-scenario.
When I reached the stage, the pastor looked right at me and hesitated. Then he said, “You would be the last one to get it.” And he looked up and threw it to someone else in the audience.
Immediately, I stiffened. My breath chocked back as if someone dropped a stone in my airway. Heat flooded my body, radiating from the molten core of shame in my gut. This was way worse than the worse-case-scenario I’d imagined.
As I cowered back into my stadium seat, my breath returned in silent sobs. I sat with a tissue over my face, quietly crying the entire service slumped down and hidden among the safety of my friends.
Broken Scales
Sometimes it takes only one number or one opinion to drain our value. That night, I measured the leader’s rejection of me this way: if the leader of the conference doesn’t “like” me, then who could? I knew it, I’m worthless. I don’t belong here, and I definitely don’t fit in.
I let this one valued opinion of me determine my entire worth. When the truth is, only One Man’s opinion truly measures up.
That night, in the hotel room, one of my friends said, “I keep seeing this dream-like picture in my mind. It’s a giant sky full of tons of glittery stars.”
Back then I didn’t really know what visions were or how to see them. But later, when I looked up Bible verses, this one sprung to life.
He counts the stars and assigns each a name. (Psalm 147:4)
Suddenly, bruises on my heart began to heal.
Because the truth is, I’m not rejected at all. I am a standout. My value isn’t measured by the various sums of other people’s “likes” or opinions. It’s not even measured by my opinion of myself. In fact, I dazzle the heart of God. I have a name and a life and a heart that sparkles in His eyes.
And so do you.
His Estimation
What bruises speckle your heart? How have the weight of false estimations of you left their mark?
Let’s leave the counting up to God. You are number one in his eyes and that’s the only number that matters.
Lord, You are looking so hard at me that when I turn to you, I can see my reflection in your eyes (Zechariah 2:8). And you are calling my name for all of heaven to hear. So I look up from my faulty calculator and into Your eyes. I lean in for a hug and You squeeze me close. I’m excited to live the life you have given me, Lord. So when I’m tempted to calculate my worth by the wrong measurements, help me return to You like this every time. Amen
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