He Cares. He sees. He loves.

To my sweet girl,

You poured your heart into writing a play for your friends. You were absorbed for hours writing each line, each director’s note, each act, and each closing-curtain instruction. Your face beamed with joy as you read me each new scene. You radiated with the excitement of creating something—of bringing forth thought onto a screen. The printer could not keep up with you as you stapled together each of the seven scripts you so graciously printed for your friends. You could barely sleep that night, too consumed with thoughts of reading through your play with your friends at recess. The next morning you jumped out of the car, ready to debut your work of art.

But when I picked you up, the excitement was gone, replaced with doubt, defeat, and disappointment. Your sweet little shoulders slumped forward. “They didn’t really care about it mama. No one wanted to do it.” Your beautiful blue eyes searched mine, looking for comfort, for clarity, for understanding.

Oh, I understand my sweet girl. I understand.

While I negative criticism is painful, indifference often hurts more. When you pour your heart onto a page—when you leave fingerprints of your soul on a work; when you create something that causes your spirit to buzz with excitement—only to find that perhaps you were the only one who was moved, it hurts. You question your talent, your gift, your calling.

You find yourself silenced by fear and insecurity. You seek to avoid repeating the event that caused you pain. You close your computer, you cap your pen, you draw the blinds, you pull the covers over your head. “Does anyone care?” you silently scream.

“I care,” comes a soft whisper.
“I see,” speaks a gentle voice.
“Write for Me. Create for Me. Live for Me.”

You lift your head, drawn toward Love’s embrace. A shaft of light breaks through the darkness. Particles of life’s dust are illuminated all around you. Your heart quickens as you begin to believe the voice of the One who created you—who loves you more than you can imagine. You reach out—attempting to touch the One who has reached down to touch you. Your nerves come alive as Love lifts your head to look into His eyes.

“I care.” He says again.
“I see.” He whispers as He looks into the depths of your soul.
“Write for Me. Create for Me. Live for Me.”

You find yourself pulling back the covers. You cautiously open the blinds. You slowly uncap your pen. You courageously open your computer. And you write. You create. You live. Not for them. Not for yourself. But for Him.

You measure your worth by His love. You measure your life by His grace. You measure your calling by His abilities. He becomes your audience. He becomes your biggest fan. He becomes your……everything.

He cares.

He sees.

And He loves…..you.

Right now. At this moment. Mess and all. Jesus sees you and He LOVES you. Run to His love, accept His love, bask in His love. Write, create, live—for Him.

In Him,
Jen