Self Worth

(Preface: I used to blog more about faith-stuff. This has, for whatever reasons, become more of a place for me to share thoughts about my family and my house and sports and probably lots of other things. This doesn't mean my priorities have changed. I just haven't had a lot to say about faith-stuff.)

I grew up in a Catholic home. Kinda. Honestly, I'm not exactly sure how to explain the household that I grew up in. We attended Catholic church. Much emphasis was placed upon acting good, making good decisions, being obedient, etc. (This is not a bash my family post. None of these things are bad. I'm certainly trying to teach my son to act good, make good decisions, and be obedient.) Adults loved me because I was a good kid, I was personable, etc. I gave no one any reason to think I was anything other than a good kid who acted well and listened to my authorities.

But I had a secret. There was lots of rebellion inside of me. Nobody knew about it. I didn't let anyone see it. I really liked the bad part of me, and I didn't want to be good. Oh, but the shame! The shame of knowing how much I liked the stuff that no one knew about! What guilt I carried with me, everyday! Someone would mention how good I was, and my heart would just burn with pain.

That's how I lived for years, even long after becoming a Christian. I knew darn well that I was a sinner. I knew darn well that there was nothing good within me. I knew I was undeserving of grace. These are good things to know, but in reality I was throwing myself a decade-long pity party. I knew in my head that I was saved by grace and thus an heir of Christ, but that was a mere footnote in my life of woe-is-me-the-pathetic-sinner.

A good friend started working on me a few years ago. He said it was obvious that my self-esteem must be pretty bad, because I always prayed thanksgiving for undeserved salvation without a hint of joy. He said that by choosing to stay in this pit that I've dug for myself I was subconsciously telling God that I'd rather focus on my own failures than His redemption.

He was right. But it still took years for me to start climbing out of that pit. (Apologies to Beth Moore.) I'm in a much better place now. And it's wonderful.

I am a sinner. My salvation is undeserved. There is nothing good in me, in the flesh. These are true statements. But there is another side to the story. I am an heir of my Father, which makes me a son of the King. I am redeemed by Christ's blood. My iniquities, once scarlet, have been washed white as snow. My sins were cast as far as the east is from the west.

Balance.

Instead of thinking of myself as a complete worthless piece of crap, I'm now thinking of myself as a complete worthless piece of crap that God decided was worth dying for. There's a difference, you know. As Jason preached at church a couple weeks ago, the value of anything is what someone is willing to pay for it. I was bought by my Savior's blood. Thus, I am priceless.

I am the prodigal. I was living a life apart from my Father. At some point, I turned back toward home. While I was still a long way off, my Father saw me in the distance. When I arrived home, He met me in the street. He was waiting for me with a robe and a ring, and He threw a huge party in celebration of my return to the fold. He celebrates every day that I am His child. He loves me more than I could ever fathom.

The illustration of the prodigal needs to trump the illustration of the worthless waste of flesh that I used to think I was.