Three years ago, God gave me a revelation of how much I’m
worth in His eyes while buying a new mug. I bought the simplest mug I’ve seen
to remind myself that it doesn’t matter who I am, what I’ve done, or what I’m
going through—God bought me with a price. That price was Jesus Christ, and it
didn’t matter if that payment was too much for me. God is happy with His purchase, He is satisfied with Christ’s
finished work, and I—seemingly small
and ordinary human being that I am in the big, expanding universe—am valued.
I kept that mug. For the past three years, I’d been drinking
in that mug, placing it beside me during long nights of schoolwork, and
refusing to buy a new one. Granted, part of the reason for the last one is I
had no need for another one. I also didn’t think of God’s ultimate love for me
whenever I see the mug. Most of the time, it’s just another thing I have to
pack and unpack, use, wash, and fill every semester.
This afternoon, though, as I washing it, my hands slipped,
and the mug broke. I was preoccupied with the things I still have to do
tonight. It hit the edge of the sink, its handle broke off, and its lip was
cracked. Goodbye, mug. I stared at it
for a moment, assessing the damage, when felt the God whisper in my heart. He
told me, in the damp, dimly-lit washing area of my dormitory, that, “I still love you. You’re still loved,
valued and precious to me. You’re still special. Even if you think you’re
broken and failing and flailing, I still love you.”
And I was, you know, actually thinking of those things to
myself the past few days. I felt like a failure, a demoted and worn out version
of my old passionate for Christ self, a girl lost not because she didn’t know
the right directions, but because she’d forgotten what her initial destination
was. I was confused, tired, and weary of the things I was doing, thoughts
invading, and the mistakes I can’t seem to escape.
But look at our Father. I was that mug, in all aspects. I
bought it because it was simple and plain; no one would look at it twice in a
shelf filled with bigger and more colorful cups and mugs. I was that kind of
mug, but God saw me. He bought me. I don’t think I’m really worth it, but He
was firm that I am, and He gave everything
up to have me. I was valued, loved, and special—I had a place in God’s
heart—not because of what I can do, what I have, or where I’ve come from. My
life was changed from the inside-out, my value was given, and my life was
rerouted all because He redeemed me. All because He chose to. All because He
wanted to and that He loved me.
Now, even if I have failed, even if I have forgotten that
sacrifice for a while, and even if I tried to work out my own value futilely in
my own ways for a while, He still loves me. He didn’t discard me even if I was
ungrateful and forgetful. He’s still, still, still so in love me. That value,
love, and favor He held in His eyes when He looks upon me is still there.
I looked at that mug, broken and cracked, and I saw myself,
so very different than who I three years ago. Still, in the span of three years
that took me from then to now, God never changed. He still cared. My standing
and position in Christ were never tainted or lessened by my forgetfulness and
lack of focus.
And here, the metaphor between me and my mug ends. The mug,
after serving me so well for three years, will find itself in the trash and
tomorrow will be replaced. I’ll never forget about it, though. It’s become a
symbol of God’s work and grace in my life, even if the mug had to go. On the
other hand, God will not discard me. He’s more than able to work His grace and
carve something beautiful out of the broken. He’s even doing it right now.
Breaking, shattering, failing, forgetting, compromising, falling, sinning—no
matter one’s history constitutes, His grace can and will work through it.
At some point, we may think that we are already too far to
be redeemed. We may think that we are too weak to still be able to make that
journey the prodigal son made to come back home. We may think that we’re too
broken, too dirty, too notorious, too shunned by society, too ugly, or too
changed to still be loved, used, and embraced by God.
God also wants you to know that: “I still love you. You’re still loved, valued and precious to me.
You’re still special. Even if you think you’re broken and failing and flailing,
I still love you.” The price that He’s paid for you was so great it had no
limit. I’d like to believe that the Universe is still expanding this very
moment just to contain what Christ has done, to try to fit that love whose
height, depth, breadth, and length could never be measured. That love that was
poured out for you.
Wherever you are right now in this journey, He’s still for
you. He loves you. He doesn’t just see the broken, He holds them and loves
them. He heals them, beloved, and gives them fresh beginnings, redeemed hopes,
and abundant futures.