I Am Valuable

So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

—Matthew 10:31

I’m convinced I came out of my mama’s womb on the hunt for affirmation. With a hearty squawk, I poked my head out of the birth canal, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Did you see what I just did?!”

Okay, maybe not. But I’ve long been honing my people-pleasing skills. For too many years, it was as if I had an internal radar device always sweeping the room to gather feedback. I felt it my duty to make everyone around me happy. All the time.

It’s not that I needed applause. I needed to know that I mattered, that my presence was noticed and my contributions were valued. As a young girl, this looked like a bad case of boy-crazy, combined with both flirty and fickle attempts to garner equally flirty and fickle attention. By my early twenties, it looked like tireless service to the church, spending long days and equally long nights striving to make a difference. Once I married and became a mom, my drive to please took the form of obsessive mom and control-freak wife. Effective? Hardly.

Trying to make the world happy is a wearying pursuit, to be sure. Like shooting at a moving target, I could make a person proud one day and disappointed the next.

Still, I kept trying, my radar on the lookout for someone I needed to woo, impress, or satisfy. It became an obsession. I tried to determine whether my friend’s quiet demeanor meant I’d done something wrong. I wondered whether my outfit or hair or size was the reason I felt rejected. I feared my lack of intellect or charm had caused a business opportunity to pass by.

Like a hamster on a fast wheel to nowhere, I’d willingly climbed on the never-ending pursuit of perfection. A dizzying, exhausting trap.

After years of captivity, I’d had enough. It may have taken too long, but Jesus’ words finally hit their mark: you are worth more.

You are worth more than a sixty-hour workweek.

You are worth more than the rejection that split you in two.

You are worth more than the sum of your contributions to church and school and community.

You are worth more than a week of sleepless nights and crazy days trying to cross items off your to-do list.

You are worth more than your best outfit or good hair day.

You are worth more than your ability to make an unhappy friend happy.

You are worth more than the meanest person’s criticism or the kindest person’s praise.

So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Jesus’ words. Not mine. Did you notice the four-word command before His promise?

So don’t be afraid.

In the previous verses, Jesus had been talking about our worry over provision—things like how we’re going to pay the mortgage or buy food and clothes. But our panic over physical provision isn’t all that different from our panic over heart provision. In both cases, we want to know we matter enough for a great big God to meet our greatest needs. So Jesus softly reminds us, as we scramble for a crust of bread or a scrap of attention, you are worth more.

Think of the various ways we measure and project value in our world. Cars, well-behaved children, houses, education, food, clothes, spirituality, philanthropy, contribution, intelligence. The list is long, isn’t it? We’ve come up with a wealth of ways to measure value, and we use them to gauge the worth of ourselves and others. It’s a wicked-fierce measuring stick, my friends, and we wonder why we don’t feel all that great about ourselves and each other.

“So God created mankind in his own image,” Genesis says (1:27). That means both you and me. Before we boasted wardrobes and degrees and hip hairstyles. Before we married, mothered, or collected an impressive list of community service projects. He made us. And He marveled at what He had done: “It was very good” (Gen. 1:31).

Time to put the radar into retirement. We don’t need to gauge the praise and affection of every person we meet, nor do we need to make the unhappiest person in the room happy. Value isn’t about appearance or effort or intellect or charm.

It’s about the imprint you and I carry of the almighty God. I am His. You are His. And He’s already confirmed “it is good.”

Rest, dear ones. The most important person in the room already loves you.

Even the most successful careers and families cannot give the significance, security, and affirmation that the author of glory and love can.

—TIMOTHY KELLER, THE REASON FOR GOD