What is man that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that thou dost care for him? Yet thou hast made him little less than God, and dost crown him with glory and honor. - Ps 8, 4-5
I may remain but a speck of cosmic dust in the vast universe, but the Creator of the universe and of every speck within it deigns to speak to me, to crown me with glory and honor, most of all by becoming a speck like me so that I might become a part of Him. I am nothing, and my physical existence will soon pass away to nothingness, but that doesn't mean that I don't matter. I matter so much that the Creator would not have me simply vanish. How much, then, does this compel me to listen to the only One who has the words of eternal life? To whom else should I go?
People think that humility means debasing ourselves, when in truth it means knowing ourselves in the proper context. I am nothing, really, but I am precious and loved and made something by God himself.
Listen to the love song God sings. Sway to its rhythm. Take up a small thread of its complex, variegated polyphony. Dance within it as it snatches us up in its joyful love and crowns us in glory and honor.
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