Who determines your worth?

Patricia Holbrook

Patricia Holbrook

I stepped on the scale and closed my eyes. “Please move,” I demanded. “Down. Move down.”

The dreadful, tormenting gadget blinked once, twice … and thus, the hopes of eating nothing but salads and protein went down the drain.

Great.

Let me tell you — of all the curses humanity inherited from Adam and Eve’s fall, hormones are certainly among the most annoying ones. If you are a woman, they torment you from puberty to your early 60s, give or take. That’s almost half a century of ups and downs of emotions, energy, and, to many of us, weight fluctuations.

I stepped down from the scale, determined to stay the course of my journey. I put on sneakers and workout clothes and went outside for my morning walk. While climbing the first steep hill, an inventory of the previous week ran through my mind: I stuck to my eating program and exercised three times that week. I drank plenty of water and slept well. Yet, my metabolism seems to have slowed down to a stop.

“Hormones,” I thought. “I hate hormones.” Frustration built up as my legs marched toward the top of the hill. That’s when that Still Small Voice interrupted my tirade:

“Give Thanks … and open your eyes to see what I see.”

As the uphill journey became increasingly harder with each step, God shifted my thoughts from the pettiness of my complaints to the mountains I climbed by faith and the many valleys I crossed.

I remembered how not long ago, my legs would not have had the strength to stand, much less run, as several health problems and surgeries made it impossible to move at a fast pace for many years.

I remembered my friend’s husband, who currently struggles with terminal cancer, and how I am sure he wishes he had the strength to climb a hill.

I remembered that the same hormones that currently fluctuate inside my body made it possible to conceive our precious daughters, while so many women struggle with infertility every day.

As the top of the hill approached, my heart’s attitude started shifting while an image popped in my mind: the life-giving message printed on a beautiful canvas that a dear friend gave me for my birthday this year. The words, penned by King David in Psalm 139, present a poignant invitation to shift our perspective from what we see in the mirror to what God sees when he looks at us:

“For You formed my inward parts; you wove me in my mother’s womb. I will give thanks to you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works, and my soul knows it very well.”

As I repented from my shallow point of view, God filled me with thanksgiving and praise. And so, I thanked him for legs that may not be as muscular as they once were, but which are certainly healthy and strong enough to carry me throughout my days. I thanked him because, regardless of how much I weigh or how many new wrinkles show up on my face as the years go by, God sees me as beautifully, skillfully, and wonderfully made.

We are beautiful — not because the world says so, the mirror agrees, or the scale confirms. We are beautiful because we are made in God’s image and skillfully crafted by an omnipotent God.

As the one-mile walk up and down the hills reached the lake in my subdivision, one of my favorite worship songs by Lauren Daigle started playing. In this inspired song, Daigle calls us to fight the voices in our minds that say we are not enough, by reminding ourselves of whom God says we are. The words pierced my heart as a journey to blow off steam from my frustrating experience with the scale that morning turned into praise:

“The only thing that matters now is everything you think of me. In you I find my worth, in you I find my identity.”

Patricia Holbrook is a columnist, author, blogger and international speaker. Visit her website www.soaringwithHim.com. For speaking engagements and comments, email pholbrook@soaringwithHim.com