Fearfully and wonderfully made

When I was 11, I knew a girl named Sophie.

Sophie was beautiful. She had it all: the looks, the hair, the sweet manner that had all the girls clamouring to be her friend while secretly disliking her, and all the boys rushing to carry her books.

I, on the other hand, was more likely to borrow said books and read them alone at lunchtime than bother pursuing friendships or heady romances. Socialising was not my forte.

Then the night of the annual Social Dance was upon us. If there has ever been a more awkward, tedious social minefield than formal dancing, I have not yet experienced it. (Although my wedding is coming up, so I’ll get back to you on that one!)

Sophie wasn’t even in our class, but came along to ‘support’ her sister, sitting in the bleachers while the boys picked girls to dance with.

As the initial partnering frenzy slowed to a trickle, I forcibly accosted a geek (and probable future founder of Trade Me or the like) to avoid the shame of being left alone. Still breathless from the near miss, I scanned the crowd and saw Biff and Greg and Butch had all shoulder-barged their way between soccer mums, bored dads and sulky siblings and were still fighting over who would get to ask Sophie to dance.

Sophie, of course, looked like a princess. And it just broke my 11-year-old heart.

How is it that some people in life have everything? They can be rich and beautiful and successful and smart, yet they get even more? How can some people pick up on all the social cues, and have drive and passion, great jobs, and wives and children that love them … then get still more joy on top of that?

We all want to be different. We all want to be special. And it’s the hardest thing to allow other people to shine when we ourselves feel overlooked.

We all seem to have short fuses and long lists when it comes to things we just can’t tolerate about others.

Others’ success dwarfs my own.
Others’ beauty makes me feel inadequate.
Others’ strengths highlight my deficiencies.

My mother, a very godly woman, used to read me the Bible verse ‘For I am fearfully and wonderfully made’, which wraps up with ‘… your works are wonderful, I know that full well’ (Psalm 139:14). How I set upon that Bible verse, injecting it into my faulty heart!

When I accept that I am wrought by the hands of God—who has made me not only acceptable but wonderful—I am released to see others and myself in the way that was always intended: in the image of God.

As I began my own slow and faltering walk with God, I realised I needed to release the envy of Sophie from my heart. And when I did, God in turn released me.

I pray that we would allow God to heal our mistaken perceptions of any inadequacies, failings and shortfalls—in ourselves, and others. I pray that as you allow God to heal your hurts, you are released to love those around you.

Lord, your works are wonderful. Let us know this full well.

By Rosy Vink (abridged from War Cry, 6 October 2012, p3)