If we think about the concept of being worthy, a lot of things come to my mind. How can I become this concept? How can I prove my worthiness to others? What can I say, do, and portray about myself that expresses that I grasp this idea of being worthy? Well, what if I’ve been thinking of this concept entirely wrong? What if I have been thinking about worthiness as something I earn and have to attribute to myself? And what if this is actually the opposite of what is true about being worthy? What if then, being worthy was always in my back pocket?
Am I pretty enough? Do I have enough money? Have I demonstrated to my friends that I am good enough to be accepted? But wait, what about my education status? Do I have a nice house? A good, caring family that looks out for me? A good-paying job? I think all of these questions can be connected to the immediate response of what I think about when I think of being worthy. Typing into the Google search engine, the short definition and description of the word “worthy” feels minuscule compared to how it plays out in my everyday life. “Having or showing the qualities or abilities that merit recognition in a specified way” and “deserving effort, attention, or respect” give the idea that I have to grasp worthiness in the palm of my hand and hold it tight in order to continue to exhibit that I have it. It’s almost as if worthiness is tangible, as if it’s not an abstract concept. Being worthy sits on my bookshelf, and I pick it up when I want it. It doesn’t follow me around each day. It reveals itself when it wants to or is needed. And when I don’t pick it up, I’m broken, filled with flaws, and not allowed dignity or respect.
What if then, being worthy was always in my back pocket? What if it were this newfound confidence that constantly and consistently followed me around and whispered in my ear when the gust of lies came near? What if it were my mother’s comforting hand on mine in the midst of a thunderstorm as a small child? That feeling of protection and “I’ve always got you” mentality. It follows me throughout my day, but at the same time finds me in the quiet when I’m alone.
Words like virtuous, good, moral, ethical, trusted, praiseworthy, and admirable are some synonyms for “worthy” from Oxford Languages. Hearing these directs my attention straight to a particular man—one who walked on earth with perfection and without flaw or sin. A man who said the words in Matthew 6, “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” I will never be able to amount to the concept of obtaining worthiness, at least not on my own. Here’s when Jesus comes into the picture—that familiar whisper and touch of a mother’s hand. Jesus is holding my face, saying, “I am with you. I have made you worthy of dignity and respect. I love you so much that I died for you. You are worthy because of me. You are not enough on your own, but that’s why you have me.”
Obtaining worthiness doesn’t look like waking up in the morning, fixing my hair and grabbing it off my shelf and saying “I’m ready for the day!” and then realizing I left it behind when I feel insecure. No, it looks like trusting in the person of Jesus because He hung on a cross to make me worthy. Being worthy looks a lot more like the face of Jesus and a lot less like all of the heavy-weighted questions about how I make myself look presentable for others or keeping a good social status by the things that I do. It actually has nothing to do with me and has a lot more to do with Him.
Worthy looks like having nothing but realizing the abundance of Jesus. Worthy looks like a cloudy day, but comprehending the light of His face. Worthy looks like looking in the mirror and seeing a beautiful creation with the Spirit of God written all over me. What if then, being worthy was always in my back pocket? Not something to be obtained, but something that already belongs to me through my surrender to Christ. Knowing Jesus means knowing what it means to be worthy. And the last time I checked, I had nothing to do with my own salvation. It was Jesus who bled from his ankles and wrists. So this must mean that being worthy never had anything to do with me. But somehow, by the grace of God, I have it.
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