Do I Really Matter?

Do I Really Matter?

When I was a little girl, I couldn't help wondering if God was a narcissist. He always wanted to be praised. He never seemed to get tired of people praising Him. He always seemed to want more. 

What kind of person always wants all people everywhere to praise Him? I thought. He must be either very full of Himself, or have a very fragile ego.

Later, I found myself more at peace with the idea of God always desiring our praise. He loves us, after all. He wants to show us His love—and He does so constantly. He simply wants us to reciprocate.

Now that I'm older, I've sometimes wondered if my worship is a little bit futile. After all, there are millions of other Christians in the world, all worshipping Jesus. I have a nice voice, but it's not the greatest. I try to have devotions every day, but there are times when I don't. I serve Him, but sometimes I wonder if it's my best. 

God deserves the best, and sometimes I question how pleasing my worship really is to Him. Because, truth be told, it's not the best. I'm pretty sure that there's someone somewhere in the world who does every single thing I do, but better. So what do I really matter?

Then, one day recently, when I was reading The Problem of Pain, by C.S. Lewis, I finally came upon something that helped me to understand and answer these questions that have echoed in my mind through the years.

Here's the quote:

"Each of the redeemed shall forever know and praise some one aspect of the divine beauty better than any other creature can." [1]

Wow. Our choir of praise to God is not just a blending of voices of different pitch, quality, and tone. It's a blending of different dimensions of praise. We each contribute an aspect that no other created being can mimic. How amazing is that?

My mum is an extremely creative person. Creativity practically oozes out of her pores. I suspect that she probably understands something unique about God's creativity. 

My dad probably understands something unique about God's justice or patience.

Me? I don't know what my contribution might be. Perhaps I'm too young to know. But I know that it's there. 

And so, I'll keep singing my praises. I'll keep living a life of worship, regardless of how many people might be doing the same thing, perhaps better. Because I know that I, too, am part of Christ's body—maybe just a flap of skin or a toenail!—and which part doesn't matter. I contribute something that no one else can. 

Jesus values it. And so do I.

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NOTES

[1] C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain, chapter 10, page 4 of 7 in ebook.

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(Valerie)

(Picture Source)

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