"How do you see me, Lord?" I prayed.
It seemed like a self-serving question, but it was an exercise recommended by my daily devotional, so I decided to play along. I really wasn't expecting any great revelation. I had looked in the mirror that morning. I know what I look like, and frankly, it's not much.
Surprisingly, almost immediately a long-forgotten memory sprang into my mind.
As a young girl, my mother sewed most of my clothes. While she was a skilled seamstress, I hated having to stand for fittings. I was often shivering while she pinned partially pieced-together garments around my tiny frame. Sometimes I got poked. And no matter how rich the fabric, nothing looks pretty inside-out with chalk markings all over it, so it was hard to imagine exactly what she was creating. But in the end, I always loved the dresses that my mother made for me, and they always fit me like a glove.
When I asked the Lord how he saw me, I saw an image of me as a child being fitted for a new dress. I immediately felt all of the old uncomfortable feelings--the cold, the scratchy seams, and the fear of being pricked. But when I looked up to see my tailor, I saw Jesus in the place of my mom.
Then, in my mind's eye, the little me walked over to the mirror. But instead of seeing a wee lass covered in goose-bumps, in the reflection I was a fully clothed grown woman. I was taller than I am in real life, I was well dressed, comfortable, and warm. I wore brown boots, and strangely, a sword was strapped to my side. I looked both feminine and strong.
God sees me as a child that he is ever-fitting for his service, ever-clothing in his righteousness, ever-dressing in his love. But he also sees me as a capable warrior, equipped with his mighty word. He sees me as both smaller and larger than I see myself. More than anything, I got the overwhelming sense that he likes what he sees.
I like what he sees, too.
It seemed like a self-serving question, but it was an exercise recommended by my daily devotional, so I decided to play along. I really wasn't expecting any great revelation. I had looked in the mirror that morning. I know what I look like, and frankly, it's not much.
Surprisingly, almost immediately a long-forgotten memory sprang into my mind.
As a young girl, my mother sewed most of my clothes. While she was a skilled seamstress, I hated having to stand for fittings. I was often shivering while she pinned partially pieced-together garments around my tiny frame. Sometimes I got poked. And no matter how rich the fabric, nothing looks pretty inside-out with chalk markings all over it, so it was hard to imagine exactly what she was creating. But in the end, I always loved the dresses that my mother made for me, and they always fit me like a glove.
When I asked the Lord how he saw me, I saw an image of me as a child being fitted for a new dress. I immediately felt all of the old uncomfortable feelings--the cold, the scratchy seams, and the fear of being pricked. But when I looked up to see my tailor, I saw Jesus in the place of my mom.
Then, in my mind's eye, the little me walked over to the mirror. But instead of seeing a wee lass covered in goose-bumps, in the reflection I was a fully clothed grown woman. I was taller than I am in real life, I was well dressed, comfortable, and warm. I wore brown boots, and strangely, a sword was strapped to my side. I looked both feminine and strong.
God sees me as a child that he is ever-fitting for his service, ever-clothing in his righteousness, ever-dressing in his love. But he also sees me as a capable warrior, equipped with his mighty word. He sees me as both smaller and larger than I see myself. More than anything, I got the overwhelming sense that he likes what he sees.
I like what he sees, too.
