Useless?

As I stared at the computer screen in my study, suddenly it came to life and I could see my interviewer in his studio at Trans World Radio somewhere in the Manchester area in the UK. He introduced himself and we chatted for a while. Then he outlined what we would cover in the interview we were about to record. [To watch this interview, please click here.]

‘First, I’ll ask you where you live and where you might take me if I were to visit you in Sydney,’ he explained. ‘Next, we’ll talk about your new book Swansong – why you wrote it, the importance of speaking life-giving words to others and so on – and then I’d like to ask you about your fiction books too. Is that okay?’

I warmed to him immediately. With my other recent radio interviews, I had had no real idea what question would come next. In the end, they were fine, but knowing what lay ahead was definitely reassuring.

In the end, this interview lasted for twenty minutes, with one question flowing easily onto another. But the most important question, I sensed, was one my lovely interviewer asked around half way through.

‘When I was a child, if I made a mistake, a close family member would say to me, “Oh … you’re useless!” I don’t think they meant any harm by that – it was just a throwaway line – but for many, many years, those words harmed me. So, what would you say to someone who has experienced something like that? How can we bring forgiveness and restoration into those situations?’

Immediately, my heart went out to him across the miles. I could see by his facial expression how important this question still seemed to be and my mind worked furiously to grasp the right words to say. I began by suggesting that this is the opposite to how God views us. In Genesis 1:27, we read we are all, male and female, created in the image of the God of the universe. Further, we were each created and formed with such intricate care, as King David wrote about:

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Psalm 139:13–14

As well, when God called Jeremiah to be a prophet, Jeremiah was told God knew him even before he was born (Jeremian 1:9a) – and surely this is true for each one of us today too. On top of that, we who believe in Jesus Christ have been given the amazing privilege to be called children of God (John 1:12), something John continues to marvel at in his first letter:

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! I John 3:1a

My point in sharing these thoughts with my interviewer was that, given we are God’s beloved children, created in the image of God with such care, how could we ever be useless? I can well understand how we can come to believe such things about ourselves when others say them to us, even once, but surely this is the work of the enemy who always seeks to accuse and deceive?

Useless? I don’t think so – do you?

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Those unexpected compliments

Sometimes it’s the simple things, the things we can do so easily, that matter most to people, isn’t it? Sometimes it can mean so much to others, for example, when we actually pay attention to them, when we listen with our whole being, when we respect them as human beings created in God’s image.

I was reminded of this last week when I gave a talk in a secular club environment. I began as usual by engaging with those present and making sure everyone felt included. Several times during my talk, I asked for audience responses—and I also continued to ‘read the room’, checking that everyone still seemed interested and awake! Nothing I did seemed special or new to me—in fact, I thought this is what every speaker they invited would naturally do. After all, who wants to drone on to a bored audience for forty-five minutes?!

Imagine my surprise then when two lovely gentlemen sitting right down the front spoke to me afterwards.

‘That was wonderful—thank you so much! You seem to …’ one man said, groping for words to express himself.

‘Yes,’ the other man chimed in. ‘It was excellent. I like how you … well … connected with us. You’re very …’

At that point, I took pity on them.

‘Inclusive?’ I suggested.

‘Yes—that’s the word!’ they agreed, beaming.

I was stunned and felt almost teary at their sincere compliments. But later, as I drove home, I began to think more about their response. At our church, all our preachers speak in a warm, inclusive way. It is what I am used to hearing and seeing, week by week. And it is also how I have always tried to speak myself—it simply seems natural to me. Yet these men, along with others present, had found it somehow different and were touched.

As I realised this, I began to feel both sad and ashamed. I felt sad that these people somehow seem to have missed out on experiencing similar warm, inclusive input. And I felt ashamed that I had taken such warm experiences of my own for granted, along with my God-given ability to speak in an inclusive way.

After my talk that day, one of these two men also told me with tears in his eyes how he does not practise his faith anymore, although he still believes in God in his heart—and my own heart went out to him. What had happened in his life? Had no one truly listened or shared the things of God with him in a loving way? He bought one of my books—and I hope and pray God will speak to him as he reads it.

But I also hope that, from now on, I treasure my own warm experiences of being part of a church family so much more. And I hope I will be much more grateful too for my own God-given gifts that enable me to speak and connect warmly with others. God has graciously given us all so much—let’s always be ready and willing to share whatever gifts we have with others.

Be generous with the different things God gave you, passing them around so all get in on it: if words, let it be God’s words … 1 Peter 4:10-11 The Message

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