Settle down. You are known.
Today, I was transported back to 8th grade. It was summer camp with the youth group; 1993, I believe. While I would say I had lots of friends, I would also say I didn't have one group of friends. Perhaps it was for this reason that no one saved me a seat on the school bus that was going to drive us to Roach, Missouri. It was disconcerting enough that the town's name was Roach; uncomfortable enough that the journey was eight hours without air conditioning on soon-to-be-sweaty, leather-ish school bus seats; troublesome enough that we knew what most of the boys would smell like in 4 days due to the lack of showering they'd choose; but, to not have anyone at all have me come to mind when it came to thinking of seat partners or even seat groupings, that was just downright, well, Missour-able.
I have to be honest that for much of my life I've struggled with the fear of being unknown. Ah, I said it. I've been the fourth grader in the second row of the children's choir, the kindergartener in the front row of the class photo, and the sophomore in the show choir who can tell you, to this day, every name of every kid in every picture from that season of my life. Even when they wouldn't - and didn't - know mine. It's the blessing and curse of having a weird memory of names, numbers, and conversations verbatim - oh, and the
great useless skill of quoting exorbitant chunks of movies.
But... don't pity me. I'm a happy person, content with my life and the abundant gifts God's placed in my life. I'm just shooting straight that this is one of my struggles. So, tonight, I was not picked for something. Something important to me. Something that I thought "for sure I'm inclusion-worthy". (Yes, I said that too... the audacity... geez.) Something that people close to me were picked for. It hurt and it might for a little while. It hit right on a vulnerable wound.
I called one of my oldest besties and asked her to either give me a kick in the rear and tell me to snap out of it or to have a pity party with me. I told her that I trusted her to be wise enough to choose. She, in her loving, graceful, and wise ways gave me both. And my shoulders dropped and I breathed a bit easier processing it aloud.
15 minutes later, I was bent out of shape again. Angry, threatened, questioning different facets of who I am, what I do. I wandered around the house all evening this way and then it hit me.
This is written on the wall in our kitchen. It's a reminder for my children, ahem, and look who needed it most. You see, "be still" in the Hebrew is the word "raphah." It's less "oh, sweetie, just relax and take a nap; meditate, be silent" and more "SETTLE DOWN! Stop fighting. Withdraw and abandon" and KNOW that I am God.
When people say that it was the "writing on the wall" or it "hit me like a 2x4", well I would say that this was the literal case. I ran right up to that wall and was almost audibly hearing God say to settle down and know that He's got this. Whom than shall I fear? What shall I worry about? Know Him... he knows me.
Scripture has spoken to me. And in a weird way, I'm going back to that fourth grader, kindergartener, and sophomore and saying "Sarah, He knows you too."
Tonight, wherever you are (by the way, thank you to my faithful readers in Qatar!!), know that the God of the universe knows who You are. And that, friend, is more than enough.