I understood that I was before the Throne of God, at the knee of my Heavenly Father. Just a couple of hours before (and a couple of years before this posting), I had been prayed over to receive the Holy Spirit by my parish youth minister, who assigned me as youth group intercessor, or as she called it, “prayer ninja.” Now I was at home, my kids and my husband asleep.
I was at home, but as I prayed, I had the distinct understanding that I was also in Heaven before the Lord. I don’t have many visions, so I can’t say what He or His throne or Heaven looked like in this experience. But I felt peaceful. I felt small, like a little child. I felt loved. And then I heard something in my heart. He introduced Himself.
“I imagined you.”
That was all He said. Three words. But it was so much to take in. “I imagined you.” Those three words brought up a vast number of thoughts.
The word “imagined” struck me in a deep way. I’m a writer by training and by trade. I have a degree in broadcast journalism. I have written for newspapers, radio stations, a TV station, a preschool, a retreat program and now a blog. Word choice really counts when you are a writer. He could have said, “made.” He could have said, “constructed.” But He said, “imagined.”
I considered how I am also imaginative. I am often deep in thought, considering ideas. I ponder them, I toy them over, I explore options. There are some ideas I scrap. There are other ideas I keep. And I delight in them. When I start to work on them, I am excited, energized.
I thought of my Heavenly Father getting an idea in His head. And liking it. And carrying it out. To my surprise, that idea was me.
I compared His delight to my experience of life. As a kid, I wanted my hair to be straight, not curly and frizzy and “like carpet,” as one of the kids in elementary school told me. I didn’t like my freckles very much after someone told me it wasn’t nice for girls to have them. I was dismayed as a teen to find out my shape was like a pear, not a rectangle like the models in the magazines. I was an introvert when I was convinced the world favored extroverts. I thought of my laugh, which a person I cared about said was like a horse and my smile, which I was told is too big. Several people in my life have said I “think too much.”
But Father said He imagined me. I thought of Him before a desk and drawing up plans: “I’m going to make this one with curly hair and freckles. She’s going to be a pear shape, not like a rectangle. She’s going to laugh without holding back and smile that way too. She’s going to be an introvert, a contemplative. She’ll be imaginative, like me. What a great idea!”
All this I thought after His three-word introduction. “So,” I said before His throne, “that means I’m good, then?”
This stood in stark contrast to many tearful moments in my life. I thought about so many wasted hours I stared before the mirror and hated what I saw. I went into many fitting rooms to try on clothes only to despair because I wanted to be rectangular, not a pear. Instead of loving myself and my neighbors, I compared myself to them and decided I was less. I was sure on so many wasted days that I wasn’t good. And now I was being told that I certainly was.
“I imagined you.” He said that with authority. By what authority can someone say that I am not good? By what authority can I say I am not good? The One who thought of me and put me together has just said otherwise.
Before God’s throne, I thought of how I scrap the ideas I don’t like. I don’t carry them out. The Father thought of me and then He made me. He delighted in curly hair and freckles and hips and introversion and contemplation. I was a good idea.
I thought of the Father’s joy in making me. I felt His delight, His purpose, His relishing in this good idea that He carried out. What does it mean now to look in the mirror? What does it mean when I hear someone tell me something they don’t like about me? What does it mean when I start to get frustrated that I am not like someone I else?
It might take the rest of my earthly experience, but because of His authority in judging the thing that He made, my job is to conform myself to His joy, to agree that I was a good idea.
Genesis 1:31 God looked at everything he had made, and found it very good.