9-10But you are the ones chosen by God, chosen for the high calling of priestly work, chosen to be a holy people, God's instruments to do his work and speak out for him, to tell others of the night-and-day difference he made for you—from nothing to something, from rejected to accepted.
Choseness has been a prevalent thread through my reading lately. It is a hard word for the me to assimilate. I don’t know if it stems from my feelings of “unworthiness” or that most of my life is based on my “choices”. My spouse, my vocation, my education. Even my family size – all more or less choices made on my part. Even my church “work” involves things I choose to do. I sing in the choir and teach a class. My choices, hopefully, based on my talents or gifts, as I see God has equipped me.
But God has “chosen” me. No matter how much I think it – I did not choose God, He chose me. What stands between me and that realization? For one, getting my mind around it. That definitely comes from my basic feelings of unworthiness. A lifelong need to be accepted and always feeling I fall short. I have recently been jarred into coming to grips with exploring the expanse and depth of God’s love for me. Scary and intimidating endeavor for someone whose specialty is humble pie, of the more or less artificial variety. I think the other problem I have with this choosing thing is that I did not apply for it. Now I don’t mean that I don’t love God and have not accepted Christ’s gift of His life, but there again, I still more or less feel I am in the drivers’s seat. In this scripture, my choseness and special-ness are out of my hands. He has chosen me and given me my title. I am a holy priest and part of a holy nation. A lay minister among many others. Now the stretch might not be so far for me, as I have had a teaching role in the church most of my life. But everyone is in this role, no matter what you do or don’t do in the Body. The name plate is there, your choice is to be in the office or out to lunch, indefinitely.
I am His instrument to do 2 things – work for him and speak out for him. Now, it is clear he needs you and me to do this. He has no voice but ours. He has no body but mine. But what to do and what to tell. He has that covered as well.
Our work and our voices should be a living example, a story of the day and night difference He made in and for for me. He surely did that. From heaven to earth via a manger in a stable. From earth to heaven via a cross. He went from something to nothing, from accepted to rejected.
All this so I could do the opposite. This nothing could be something. Something only because He sought me and bought me, as the old hymn says. His night and day, death and resurrection was for me. So this rejected mound of clay could be molded in the purity and righteousness of His life and death, placing me squarely in the hands of the Potter. To be molded and made into His likeness, giving me His voice and His life. So that I might share it with others.
