I was talking to a friend a couple days ago. He mentioned an acquantance that I know through him. He said, “I betcha didn’t know he is worth twelve million dollars, did you?” Of course I didn’t. I barely know the guy outside of an occasional lunch. I said I was impressed, then let the conversation continue on its way. It did get me thinking though.
I’ve done the little calculations to find my net worth – mainly when I was trying to get my financial house in order through some program like Dave Ramsey’s or whatnot. So what am I worth? Quite a bit less monetarily than I would have once thought I would be at this age. Life hasn’t exactly turned out how I planned it when I was entering college with dreams of success in my head. Curve balls, bad decisions, and a myriad of other things have changed my life. But is this the sum of all that I am? An Excel spreadsheet?
We live in a society that judges worth by success and utility. Is it any wonder that we have developed a cynicism which often pities the handicapped, the less than ‘able’ . . . ? That we’re constantly seeking to make our kids the smartest, the strongest, the most successful. That we’re quickly sliding into a society that eagerly embraces designer children and euthanasia. Worth is no longer found in the abstract, the intangible, the unexplainable. No . . . it’s all laid out for us in black and white. On a spreadsheet of sorts.
The man my friend and I were talking about is worth far more than twelve million dollars. He’s a child of God. He’s made in the image and likeness of an ineffable Creator. He loves. He hurts. His soul, like mine, is in need of renewal that is only found by coming to the font of all that is good, right, and holy. That which pulls us onward and upward beyond this utilitarian vision we’ve made for ourselves.
Left to our own devices, man would destroy all that is beautiful in this world. Yet God gives to us – even those who would deny Him – something that nags at our core and tells us that we’re more than the sum of our bank accounts and abilities.
I used to to think the little poster I had when I was younger which read, “God didn’t make any junk!” was so childish. Now I know it’s the truest thing ever said.