Worthy

There are some who might argue that I am a bit too…overtly honest…in this text, but the truth is that I wright this for m own good and benefit, and I have made a recent commitment to myself to embrace honesty in my own self-assessments.  I write to process and the process requires honesty.

And in my honesty, especially of late, I have come to the uncomfortable realization that I truly struggle against feelings of self-worth.  There are thoughts, sometimes sneaky and often as plain as cannonballs, that assail me with feelings of inadequacy and unlovability.  So often I push that sensation aside, masking it with extreme efforts to make myself likeable or do so much for others that maybe I can earn their acceptance.  All the while, that specter is whispering in my ear that I am unworthy of love, unworthy of respect, unworthy of even a moment of consideration.  It is a fight I fight everyday.

And I remember a time when I was fighting it very hard.

I walked through the doors of the new academy with no small amount of insecurity.  My journey as a fighter was supposed to change today.  That’s what I had been told by my new friend (who is still, to this day, one of my best friends in the world).  I had only been fighting for a short time, but already I had developed a reputation for being a “tough” fighter.  The problem with being a tough fighter is that one has to prove how tough they are. In my case I had proven my toughness by being willing to take an absolute beating.  I had a reputation for being hard to finish and willing to endure punishment.  Sometimes I won but usually I lost.    Either way, I paid a serious physical price.And then I had started training with my new friend.  Shortly after, he had referred me to his friend.  His friend was an MMA coach of high repute, the sort of guy who was training fighters of the highest caliber.  And my new friend had arranged for me to get some training time on the mats with his friend.  And so I traveled to this new place with this coach I didn’t know where I met up with an old friend and an old opponent (one I had lost to) so this new coach could examine my abilities.

We all changed into training clothes, warmed up, and got to work.  I was the worst person on those mats that day.  I was lighter, smaller, and less skilled.  I got wrecked, round after round—taken down, submitted, punched, kicked, and all the other things.  From time to time I would glance up to the side of the mats where this man—this Coach—was sitting.  And he was just sitting there, looking disinterested, while I was steamrolled round after round.  I might be remembering incorrectly, but I’m pretty sure that afternoon training session was at least three hours of my absolute destruction. 

All the while, Coach just sat there in a chair, not saying a word and barely moving.  I wasn’t even sure that he was awake.

And my anxious mind went to work.  I was a fighter with a losing record and records in the fight world meant something.  Maybe he didn’t want to waste his time with a fighter with a losing record.

Or maybe my technique was so atrocious that I wasn’t worth his effort—I hadn’t won an exchange against these two training partners since the day had started.

Maybe it was my style.  Maybe he didn’t see me as the sort of fighter he could work with. I wasn’t athletic—not fast, not quick, not explosive.  The only thing I had going for me was that I was “tough” and I could take a beating.  Maybe he thought it was best that I stop fighting.  After all, I sometimes thought it was best that I stop fighting.

Those are the thoughts that echo through my brain nearly every day.  I feel like I’m being tolerated or that I’m only allowed to be around if I serve a purpose.  If I can’t believe I have value in the eyes of other human beings, how can I believe that God sees my value in His own eyes?

I think of Simon Peter’s reaction upon seeing the crucified and newly risen savior--“When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus' knees and said, "Go away from me, because I'm a sinful man, Lord!" (Luke 5:8)

Or of the desperate Romah centurion—“Lord,” the centurion replied, "I am not worthy to have You come under my roof. But only say the word, and my servant will be cured.” (Matthew 8:8)

Our training session had ended, mostly in my abject humiliation.  I was glad it was over so that I could be done embarrassing myself for the day.  We had reached some consensus that we were finished and I couldn’t wait to get home.  I was ready to be done.  So I stood up and started toward the dressing rooms to get changed and get out.  This trip had been a disaster, but in some ways it had been a valuable disaster.  It might had been the sort of disaster that confirmed that it was time for me to stop with this nonsense and go back to point-sparring or something.

As my sweaty body navigated toward the changing area I suddenly saw coach stand to his feet and start toward me like a cornerback on an interception course.  Before I could blink he was standing between me and the dressing rooms.

He looked me in the eyes and said, “Joel, I like the way you fight but we need to change some things.  There are three things you do and I need you to stop.  You suck at them.  I never want to see them again!”

There was a certain harshness to his words, but I respond to that.  It’s the way I need to be coached.  And in those words I realized something.

He had been watching.

In Deutronomy it states, “But the LORD's portion is His people, Jacob, His own inheritance.  He found him in a desolate land, in a barren, howling wilderness; He surrounded him, cared for him, and protected him as the pupil of His eye.” (Deuteronomy 32:9)

Sometimes being the “pupil of God’s eye” is translated as being the “apple of God’s eye.”  It was once explained to me—by a man much smarter and better educated than I—that the word “apple” or “pupil” is translated as “little man”.  That meaning that God is looking at us—at you and at me—so hard, so directly, that our reflection can been seen in the pupil—or in the apple—of His eye.

The idea of God looking at me that intensely is both terrifying and comforting.

“And,” Coach continued, “there are a couple of things you do really well.  I want to enhance those.  I have a couple of techniques that I think will fit with your style and way you move.”  He waved one of my training partners over to us.  “Let’s do some work and get some reps.”

And he demonstrated those techniques to me, showed me how to do them right.  And he made me drill them time after time until I, too, could do them right.  He turned my three-hour session into a five-hour session.  And there was value in that time because I still use those techniques to this day, years later.  He had seen something good in me and he brought out better in me.

Yahweh your God is among you, a warrior who saves. He will rejoice over you with gladness. He will bring you quietness with His love. He will delight in you with shouts of joy.” (Zephaniah 3:17)

After a while it was time to leave, this time for real.  I changed out of my training clothes and dumped all of the sweaty stuff in a bag so I could wash it later.  As I was heading to the front door Coach intercepted me again.

“This if for you,” he said, handing me a sweatshirt and a pair of fight shorts with his team’s logo on them.  “We’ve got some time before your next fight and we’re going to take advantage of it.  We’ve got some changes to make, but we’re going to make sure you’re ready.  I’ll see you next week.”

Just like that he had made it clear.  Not only was I worth his time, but now I was on his team.  I was one of his fighters.  I belonged to him.  I was worthy of his efforts.  He would see me next week because I was now one of his fighters.

God is looking at me, peering at me, with a certain intensity.  An intensity so precise that it knows my every intricacy. Everything there is to know He knows about me.  He knows my every motivation, secret thought, and failure.  As I was reminded lately, God knows every bad thing about me and still He wants me.

LORD, You have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I stand up; You understand my thoughts from far away. You observe my travels and my rest; You are aware of all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue, You know all about it, LORD. You have encircled me; You have placed Your hand on me. (Psalms 139:1-5)

And even with that knowledge, and despite all of my own doubts, God calls me to be His own.  He calls me because He has considered me worthy. 

Though the mountains move and the hills shake, My love will not be removed from you and My covenant of peace will not be shaken," says your compassionate LORD. (Isaiah 54:10)