The moment I saw her, I was wrecked. Completely overwhelmed and overcome with emotion, all I could do was cry. With tears streaming down my face, I held my daughter for the first time. I examined her face, her hair, her hands, her feet. She was perfect. At long last, after an arduous nine month, gestational diabetes-filled, dessert-barren, carbless pregnancy, she was here.
At this time in my life, I was far from God. VERY far. I was agnostic and contemplated atheism. But all of that had to be put on the back burner because I was attending to the love of my life, my daughter, Ava. My treasure. I loved to look at her. I loved to watch her sleep. I loved to hold her. I loved to listen to her breathe. I loved her sweet baby smell. Her existence brought me such happiness. I vowed that her childhood would never be like mine.
My father was an alcoholic with severe PTSD. He always had a cigarette in one hand and a can of beer in the other. I didn’t care. I loved him. He was my dad. But I was often caught in the crossfire of angry words hurtling back and forth between him and my mom. There was no time for my parents to dote on me or to shower affection upon me. They did the best that they could, but there was too much hurt, too much anger, and not enough room for much else. Then, when I was 11, he committed suicide. A nearly fatal wound to my heart and my worth.
This childhood shaped me and followed me. And the next thing I knew, my entire world revolved around this tiny being birthed from my womb, filling the void in my heart. I was overjoyed at each new milestone – her first words, her first steps, her first drawing, her first tinkle in the potty. Then when she was four, after a tumultuous time in my marriage, the Lord restored me to Him.
The moment I REALLY experienced God, I was wrecked. Completely overwhelmed and overcome with emotion, all I could do was cry. With tears streaming down my face, I experienced the true love of God as I realized He held me all that time, watching me, listening to me, longing for me and waiting for me. I realized I was His treasure. And I couldn’t help but worship and praise Him because His presence filled every void and brought me such joy. He is the love of my life and my treasure.
Dear, reader. I don’t know the burdens you carry, the pain lodged in your heart or the mistakes that haunt you. But God knows your burdens, your pain and your mistakes. He yearns for you to be free from those things. Because you are His treasure. Even if you don’t feel like treasure, you are. And you are worth dying for. That sacrifice on the cross wasn’t for perfect people who have it all together. No one’s perfect. Jesus died for individuals so each could be restored to Him and have an abundant life (John 3:16, John 10:10). So those bad thoughts about yourself and those feelings of worthlessness? Cast those thoughts away (1 Peter 5:7) and run to the Lord, who will remind you of who you are. You are a daughter of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. You are a heavenly princess who is wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14) in His image (Genesis 1:27).
Psalm 139 is one of the most beautiful chapters in the Bible. Verses 17 and 18 (NLT version) reads,
‘“How precious are your thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered! I can’t even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up, you are still with me!” Psalm 139:17-18
The God of the universe. The Creator of heaven and earth. Our unfathomable, all-powerful, and infinite God. His thoughts for EACH ONE OF US outnumbers the grains of sand. Believe who God says you are. You are valued. You are loved. You are heard. You are remembered. You are precious. You are His treasure.
You are what God says that you are! You are Treasured!
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Vicky Cullison is a full-time wife, a full-time mother, a full-time creative project manager and most importantly a full-time lover and follower of Jesus. She’s also a full-time food lover, a full-time animal petter and a full-time encourager. When not doing these things, she attempts to write stuff. Click here to read her Breath on Paper Bio.