Last night before going to bed, I wrote a list of what I had accomplished during the day. Because by yesterday evening, I felt that the day was a loss and I should watch tv for the rest of the day and start over with a fresh day today. So I made a list because I wanted to feel a bit better about the productivity and accomplishments of my day before I turned the light off on February 11, 2017. A list of accomplishments. Stupid accomplishments. Would yesterday’s worth have increased if I found myself with a long list? Or was it that I felt MY worth would increase if I had a long list of accomplishments? Somewhere inside, was I correlating productivity with my worth?
I crawled into bed feeling sad, emotionally disheveled, and somewhat resigned to the day. I felt that, in a sense, the day had won. But in the end, did that day determine anything about me or my worth? Did it say anything about me? Is my worth in others opinions of me? Is it in accomplishments and productivity? Is it in tidy emotions and a put-together life? Is my worth found in having high self-esteem? None of the above. But I do correlate activity with purpose; accomplishments with worth. When the reality is that a life full of activity does not constitute a life full of purpose. And a long list of accomplishments does not alter my worth. Not even my own assessment of myself matters. If my worth is declared by Christ, it matters little what I think of me, as long as I believe in what He thinks of me.
In the end, the day didn’t win. I won. Not because I felt better about myself and had higher self-esteem by the end of the day – I didn’t. Not because I fought back and ended up being very productive – I wasn’t. I won because I quietly reminded my soul of the origin of its worth. The pressure is off. My worth is declared by God who decided to come to this filthy earth to be one of us and to say, “I love you. I want you. You have value.” I don’t always believe that, because it’s so good that it’s almost too good to comprehend. But I want to believe it. There’s a great quote from the last season of Sherlock, where he says: “In saving my life she conferred a value upon it. A currency I do not know how to spend.” It’s a currency that’s hard to spend because we are still trying to “accomplish” our way to worthiness – in our own eyes and the eyes of others. But I want to be comfortable with it, be comfortable with a worth that is completely separate from anything I have done, have not done, will do or will not do. And I want to live in the peace and constancy that comes from that freedom.