I just felt prompted this morning to go back and re-read the Gospel of John. I love going back in the scriptures and reading again the precious Word of God; I always find something new, something fresh, something to re-start my spiritual engines.
I liken God's Word to a treasure chest. I picture myself kneeling in front of it, unlocking and lifting the heavy lid with great expectation. I become bathed in the light reflected off the precious contents. As would anyone, I lift each beautiful piece to gaze at its' workmanship, recognizing the signature of its artisan. I can see my reflection in the flawless, polished gold. And the depth of this treasure chest is eternal - each time I go back to it, even if I have seen it a hundred times before, God will show me another level of His Truth.
This morning turned out to be one of those times.
In the very first chapter of John, I found a passage I had read many times before, but this time it stood out like a neon sign on a dark and lonely highway. Verses 12 and 13 suddenly stopped me from reading on and I read them both over several times, letting their meaning drop the eighteen inches from my head to my heart.
(12) But to as many as did receive and welcome Him, He gave the authority (power, privilege, right) to become the children of God, that is, to those who believe in (adhere to, trust in, and rely on) His name (13) Who owe their birth neither to bloods nor to the will of the flesh (that of physical impulse) nor to the will of man [that of a natural father], but to God. [They are born of God!] (Amplified)
My entrance into this world was not one of great expectation, like a child hoped and planned for. My mother was pregnant out of wedlock, not an accepted part of every day life back in the forties. I never knew my real father as he left as soon as he knew I was on the way. The only thing I ever discovered about him was that his name was Billy, he was filipino, and somewhere in the mix it was stated that he was a deserter from the Army - at least, that's what my grandmother told me years ago. I'm not sure just how true that was as he was on the Island of Hawaii at the time. Seems it would have been too easy to catch him there. Perhaps it might have been the real reason behind his leaving? Guess I'll never know for sure as everyone involved back then is now deceased.
Anyway, I was a 'love child'. Then, my mother ran into a young man she had dated previously. Earl had fallen hard for her then and was ecstatic to be dating her again. When he found out she was pregnant, he married her and was there for my birth on January 16, 1949 at 7-something p.m. So I had his last name, even though my maternal grandmother said they knew I was not his when they saw me for the first time through the hospital's nursery window.
Life went on and in 1952, my half-sister Cathy, was born in Washington, D.C. It was just 24 months later that my mom would die of breast cancer on Mother's Day, leaving two little girls behind.
My step dad re-married a year later and a step mother came into the picture. And the proverbial step-mother she would become. Cathy ran away at age sixteen and never returned. She made it on her own. I, on the other hand, was a more compliant child, and didn't leave home until I married at twenty.
As teenagers, my sister and I had become our family's "Cinderellas", responsible to take care of two younger step-siblings, clean house, cook supper, wash dishes & clothes, etc. Not that having responsibility is wrong, but when you're just 13 years old, that kind of responsibility - along with school and homework - is like the world on the back of Atlas. Dropping the ball brought beratings, beatings, and many other forms of punishment. Expressing yourself was "being smart" which brought a slap across the face or perhaps bed with no dinner. It was her way or else.
The message behind all this was that we had no worth other than being servants. Actually I should probably say "slaves", as servants at least have a say in things. Our worth was in what we could do, so they wouldn't have to do. We were property, not people, and certainly not children.
Please, do not feel sorry for me or Cathy. We are better people for what we experienced and have forgiven. But the point I'm trying to make is that we never felt like "family", like we had a place we belonged, were wanted, were appreciated for who we were. There was no place of safety for us.
Then I re-read those two verses this morning that allowed me to put any vestige of my past to rest and shined their light on my ever-changing reflection in Jesus. Instead of feeling like an orphan, I know I am a SON of the one true, living God. My being and worth are not reflections of the flesh and blood of this natural world, but are the results of being given the POWER, PRIVILEGE, and RIGHT to be God's own child! Why? Because I have welcomed Him into my heart.
Such a simple thing for such a great reward, for in verse 16 it states that we CHILDREN of God receive unending grace, unending spiritual blessings, and "even favor upon favor and gift [heaped] upon gift. In my Bible, at the end of verse 16, I wrote, "THANK YOU, FATHER!"
I started out life as an unwanted surprise, lived my formative years as a live-in slave, and had a very rocky time trying to find my place in this world. But when Jesus found me, I embraced the Christian walk with everything that was in me because it gave me value and worth, purpose, and hope.
I don't believe any longer that I was an "accident". It's been a long time since I have. But His Word just reinforced what I've grown to know is the real truth. That is, God knew from the foundations of the world that I was coming - when, where, how. He knew that I would come to know Him and that when I did, I would find what every child should have - an unconditional acceptance and love that would never end, with all the blessings that come with it.
Neither are any of you accidents. No matter how you came into this world, God has a place just for you - a place in His heart where no one but you can fit.
This morning turned out to be one of those times.
In the very first chapter of John, I found a passage I had read many times before, but this time it stood out like a neon sign on a dark and lonely highway. Verses 12 and 13 suddenly stopped me from reading on and I read them both over several times, letting their meaning drop the eighteen inches from my head to my heart.
(12) But to as many as did receive and welcome Him, He gave the authority (power, privilege, right) to become the children of God, that is, to those who believe in (adhere to, trust in, and rely on) His name (13) Who owe their birth neither to bloods nor to the will of the flesh (that of physical impulse) nor to the will of man [that of a natural father], but to God. [They are born of God!] (Amplified)
My entrance into this world was not one of great expectation, like a child hoped and planned for. My mother was pregnant out of wedlock, not an accepted part of every day life back in the forties. I never knew my real father as he left as soon as he knew I was on the way. The only thing I ever discovered about him was that his name was Billy, he was filipino, and somewhere in the mix it was stated that he was a deserter from the Army - at least, that's what my grandmother told me years ago. I'm not sure just how true that was as he was on the Island of Hawaii at the time. Seems it would have been too easy to catch him there. Perhaps it might have been the real reason behind his leaving? Guess I'll never know for sure as everyone involved back then is now deceased.
Anyway, I was a 'love child'. Then, my mother ran into a young man she had dated previously. Earl had fallen hard for her then and was ecstatic to be dating her again. When he found out she was pregnant, he married her and was there for my birth on January 16, 1949 at 7-something p.m. So I had his last name, even though my maternal grandmother said they knew I was not his when they saw me for the first time through the hospital's nursery window.
Life went on and in 1952, my half-sister Cathy, was born in Washington, D.C. It was just 24 months later that my mom would die of breast cancer on Mother's Day, leaving two little girls behind.
My step dad re-married a year later and a step mother came into the picture. And the proverbial step-mother she would become. Cathy ran away at age sixteen and never returned. She made it on her own. I, on the other hand, was a more compliant child, and didn't leave home until I married at twenty.
As teenagers, my sister and I had become our family's "Cinderellas", responsible to take care of two younger step-siblings, clean house, cook supper, wash dishes & clothes, etc. Not that having responsibility is wrong, but when you're just 13 years old, that kind of responsibility - along with school and homework - is like the world on the back of Atlas. Dropping the ball brought beratings, beatings, and many other forms of punishment. Expressing yourself was "being smart" which brought a slap across the face or perhaps bed with no dinner. It was her way or else.
The message behind all this was that we had no worth other than being servants. Actually I should probably say "slaves", as servants at least have a say in things. Our worth was in what we could do, so they wouldn't have to do. We were property, not people, and certainly not children.
Please, do not feel sorry for me or Cathy. We are better people for what we experienced and have forgiven. But the point I'm trying to make is that we never felt like "family", like we had a place we belonged, were wanted, were appreciated for who we were. There was no place of safety for us.
Then I re-read those two verses this morning that allowed me to put any vestige of my past to rest and shined their light on my ever-changing reflection in Jesus. Instead of feeling like an orphan, I know I am a SON of the one true, living God. My being and worth are not reflections of the flesh and blood of this natural world, but are the results of being given the POWER, PRIVILEGE, and RIGHT to be God's own child! Why? Because I have welcomed Him into my heart.
Such a simple thing for such a great reward, for in verse 16 it states that we CHILDREN of God receive unending grace, unending spiritual blessings, and "even favor upon favor and gift [heaped] upon gift. In my Bible, at the end of verse 16, I wrote, "THANK YOU, FATHER!"
I started out life as an unwanted surprise, lived my formative years as a live-in slave, and had a very rocky time trying to find my place in this world. But when Jesus found me, I embraced the Christian walk with everything that was in me because it gave me value and worth, purpose, and hope.
I don't believe any longer that I was an "accident". It's been a long time since I have. But His Word just reinforced what I've grown to know is the real truth. That is, God knew from the foundations of the world that I was coming - when, where, how. He knew that I would come to know Him and that when I did, I would find what every child should have - an unconditional acceptance and love that would never end, with all the blessings that come with it.
Neither are any of you accidents. No matter how you came into this world, God has a place just for you - a place in His heart where no one but you can fit.
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