And the soul knows it’s worth… The sounds of oh holy night are blaring through speakers in the overcrowded mall. It is Christmas time. Or in this case time for shopping. For maxing out credit cards. For pushing and shoving past other souls to get our hands on the special can of biscuits. Oh, for the soul to know it’s worth.
Amidst rumours from Aleppo (albeit some the definition of post-truth) and the ever-blurring lines of the Syrian war I am struck again by the value of human life and how your worth is determined by which side of the drawn border you are living. Bombs fall on cities in the name of freedom and yet those that have been tested and tried in the fight for survival stand helpless, invisible to the powers that be. Some claim to be fighting the regime, fighting for freedom and yet their weapon is terror and their ways are suppressing other countrymen. Political moves and fear-filled voters determine the openness of borders and how you are welcomed.
Our world is filled with a darkness that is tied to not knowing our worth. We see it in the cries of refugees asking to be treated and seen as fellow humans. We feel it at the sight of injustice and inequality. We are upset at racist remarks because it portrays a deep-seated view of superiority and limits the worth of the victim. The unborn baby is marked unworthy through abortion. The alarming rate of murder in South Africa tells an unwritten story of the value of life.
Not feeling worthy is the target of deception and darkness…
The attack is blatantly obvious in the loneliness of the divorced woman. The angry orphan. The neglected child with the absent father. The rat race on the road to be someone to make something to be worth something. The drug of consumerism because maybe if I own that car I would be deemed worthy. The percentage of young people fighting the lie of rejection, the need to feel wanted, worthy.
The soul doesn’t know it’s worth. And we fight a battle to attain that worth which makes us weary, a weariness that is carried on heavy faces, especially this time of the year, especially this year. The lady behind the till greets me with a tired smile. No rest, she says. Fighting to survive, making ends meet, one foot in front of the other. Weary.
Something happened in order for the soul to know its worth. It is a paradox that because of our helplessness and our worthlessness the King of Kings became an infant, became one of us, deemed us worthy. Paying a price that we cannot even begin to understand the value of – a price that we will probably only understand when we stand with unveiled faces in the glorious presence of the one who came, whose life was the price.
Extending beyond the price that was paid is the beauty of Emmanuel. God with us. That the God of the universe would go to such lengths for this one purpose. To be with us. To render us worthy of His presence. Today through His Spirit and one day by Him, where Revelation promises that He will be the one to wipe the tears of our faces. The beauty of this truth that sets our faith apart from the rest. That God became one of us. That He was humiliated, for us. To be united with souls that were separated from Him by the sin He hates. The simplicity of hope – God with us, worthy.
Silent night. Glorious night. Where my worth was sealed through a holy God becoming Emmanuel. No wonder the weary world rejoices; in the eyes of the Eternal King we are worthy.
May this be a time of knowing your worth, and seeking the One in who you will find it, the One it is wrapped in. The One named hope, a Spirit looking to be hosted. The One who is not far off but here, in the moment. Desiring to speak our worth over us, reveal His love to us. Simply waiting for us to repent and turn to Him and acknowledge that we are so unworthy of His love. And therein lies the beauty. Grace, crowning the unworthy with undeserved worth as we follow the One who paid the price.
Joy to our weariness. Hope to our hopelessness. Worth to our insignificance.
lugreis 