To be loved means to be chosen.
Have you ever felt like an unwanted rag doll? Like there was no one who accepted
you for who you were? Like you didn't match up to anyone's expectations of who
you should be? Totally unloved? Rejected?
This is how I felt when I was a child in school. Although both of my parents
were born in the Flemish-side of Belgium, my mom's family was French of heart,
and we only spoke French at home. As a result, my first exposure to Flemish
coincided perfectly with my first day of school! I not only found myself lost in
a "foreign" world of the classroom, but also lost in the "foreign" world of the
Flemish language! I had no choice but to learn to speak Flemish quickly!
Naturally, my accent was horrible, and my Flemish schoolmates were relentless.
To make matters worse, I was overweight. So now I was the FAT francophone,
speaking slaughtered Flemish with a heavy French accent! Is it any wonder they
made fun of me? Is it any wonder they never welcomed me into their little
cliques?
To top it all off, my eyesight was very poor. It wasn't until I entered school
that this was discovered, however, and suddenly I found myself being forced to
wear glasses that highly resembled the bottoms of coke bottles! Now I was the
fat, BLIND francophone with a heavy accent AND heavy glasses! Pretty freaky!
I was always the last one to be chosen in sports. I don't blame them. I had to
play without my glasses on, and everything looked like a blur. It made me dizzy
to run after a ball, and often I would grab someone's head instead. I was always
chosen first in soccer, however, it wasn't because I was particularly good at
the sport. It was because my classmates valued their lives, and their shins. You
see, because I often mistook an ankle for a soccer ball, I was a menace to the
opposing team who usually left he field limping!
On, I made a few friends over the years, but these were also in the "unwanted
rag doll" category. Most of them were significantly younger than I was, but I
knew what it was like to be left out, and I could identify with their plights.
At least they could have me, another unwanted rag doll, for a friend! But these
friendships could never be fostered either, for our household rule, established
to keep school and home separate, was that I couldn't bring friends home from
school.
As the school "odd ball", I wasn't often faced with the temptation to join a
clique. I remember only one time when I was pressured to join one. Initially,
this made me feel good; however, I soon learned that this particular gang was
into drinking and smoking. Fortunately for me, they had always made fun of me
prior to this, and I was skeptical enough to realize the potential dangers of
joining them. My decision didn't make me any more popular at school, however!
Now I was a fat, blind francophone who didn't want to have any fun!
Pretty bad, eh? Things couldn't get any worse. Or could they?
Upon returning to school after summer holidays one year, I learned that I had
just been assigned to the most "despicable" Dutch teacher at my high school. He
was well known for his hatred of those who spoke French. It was told that he
would stop in front of the desk of francophone students and stare his victims
straight in the eyes. Then he would put both fists on the desktop and make
faces. If the student laughed in any way, he could be assured that he would fail
that class. Boy did I have something to look forward to!
I tried to assume a state of semi-composure on that first day in his class, and
everything seemed to be going along okay. Until the teacher stopped at my desk,
that is, and started making faces! Oh no! I prayed that I wouldn't laugh, then I
started thinking about other things, things that had happened over the course of
the past summer. But the longer I sat there with a straight face, the more the
teacher grimaced at me, until suddenly HE started to laugh!
From that day on, that teacher treated me like royalty. I ended up with a
noticeable passing grade, something completely unheard of for a francophone! All
of my classmates were astonished. They began to circulate cartoon drawings of my
Dutch teacher holding a balloon that had my face drawn on it. I was considered
the teacher's pet, but at least I had earned the respect of my classmates, and
as a result, this incident made a huge difference in the remaining years of my
schooling. There is something special that happens when the unwanted rag doll is
finally the chosen one. When you finally feel accepted and appreciate for who
you are, hope invades your soul and you know that you look forward to a brighter
future!
It doesn't bother me any more whether people like me or not, and I could care
less if I'm the last one chosen for a team. Why? Because I have been singled out
as special by Someone else. I have been chosen by none other than Jesus Christ
Himself! He now lives in my heart, and this makes me feel so loved and special
that no human opinion, no matter how bad, can shake me. How could it? The
Creator of the universe is MY special FRIEND!
The Bible says: "We were already chosen to be God's own children by Christ."
(Eph 1:11 New Life Bible) But what does this mean to be "chosen to be God's own
children"? It means He will come and dwell in you. "Don't you know that you
yourselves are God's temple and that God's spirit lives in you?" (1 Cor. 3:16
NIV); "If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in him and
he in God." (1 John 4:15 NIV).
Once He lives in you, you will experience an intimate relationship with Him. You
are loved by the Creator Himself! He sees you as unique. He recognizes you as
someone who has something special to contribute. He wants to be with you. He
desires to be your friend. You are special, and no one can steal that from you!
Friends, you have ALL been chosen already. The price has been paid to change you
from being an "unwanted rag doll" to being "Chosen by the King". But YOU have to
do something too, in order for this to all come about. You have to ACCEPT what
Jesus has to offer you. You have to ACCEPT Him into your heart! Jesus is the One
who makes this possible. He died your death, so that you could experience His
resurrection life. Will you let Him?
The choice is yours, friend! Accept God's offer and feel special, or refuse it
and remain an unwanted rag doll forever!
To be chosen means to be loved!
Rob Chaffart
The Illustrator: This daily newsletter is dedicated to encouraging
everyone to look towards Jesus as the source of all the solutions to our
problems. It contains a daily inspirational story, a Bible verse and encouraging
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The Nugget: Published three times a week, this newsletter features inspirational devotionals and mini-sermons dedicated to drawing mankind closer to each other and to Christ.