Not chosen

A lot of times, I think of myself as “not being chosen” when it comes to my single status in these later 20’s years.

I know it’s a lie, but it can feel like the truth. And I know it’s stupid. At this point, I haven’t even met any Christian men I’d want to have chosen me. But the fact is, they also aren’t interested. Because of that, I think I’ve seen myself with a large stamp printed on my forehead saying “not chosen.”

But the truth is? God so loved, that he chose to send Jesus to save. Jesus so loved, that He chose the cross. God so loved me, that he chose to spend $30,000 on my soul. Jesus so loves me, that he chooses to spend time with me every day…so close I can see/sense His presence. And He chooses to stay, despite my inability to love Him in anything close to the way He deserves. I knew “he chose me” before, but not in such an intensely personal or relevant way.

So I guess what I’m saying tonight is I’m wiping that shanizzle right off of my forehead. That phrase holds no truth for me or power over me. I am found, and I was chosen as an individual as well as part of the collective.


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