by Emily Anne Carson

What do you tell yourself when you look in the mirror or at a selfie or an unfiltered photo of yourself? Pay attention to that voice. It shapes your sense of reality.

In the Old Testament book of Isaiah, chapter 43, God tells the people (through the voice of Isaiah) that they are precious, honored and loved. At the time, the people were probably feeling terrible because they were living in exile. There was grief, loss, poverty, and a sense of alienation. Into that place of brokenness, God offers words of compassion.

In Hebrew (the original language of the Old Testament), the words used in Isaiah, chapter 43 are yaqar (precious), kabad (honored) and ahab (loved).

You are precious.
You are honored.
You are loved.

We don’t always feel precious, honored and loved. In fact, we often don’t feel that way. The original audience of Isaiah likely didn’t feel the truth of God’s words either. But what if we just keep saying them to ourselves anyway? On days when we feel like it, and more commonly, on days when we don’t. Transformation happens in repetition. Precious, honored and loved. These aren’t your feelings; they are your identity.

You are precious.
You are honored.
You are loved.

From the Order for Holy Baptism, the presiding minister recites, “Pour out your Holy Spirit, the power of your living Word, that those who are washed in the waters of baptism may be given new life.”

Baptism is new life. Through water, we are connected to the ultimate Source of All Things. The same Spirit that moved over the waters at the beginning of time is sealed within us and emboldens us with eternal, everlasting love.

You are precious.
You are honored.
You are loved.

What would it look like to inhabit a world where everybody believed they were precious? What if they really, deeply understood that to be true? How much would our collective capacity for love increase if we were able to love ourselves wholeheartedly?

Friends, gently pay attention to the voice you hear when you see yourself. Don’t judge that voice. Don’t get mad at it. Just turn toward it. And offer that voice a gift of encouragement. Kindly whisper precious, honored and loved when you catch a glimpse of your reflection.

You are precious.
You are honored.
You are loved.

This is your identity. This is your legacy. This is Truth. Precious, honored and loved. Now and forever.

Closing prayer:

Spirit of God, You call us precious. You call us honored. You call us loved. Help us see what you see. Empower us to look upon our own image with ongoing, daily compassion. Strengthen us to pay attention to the voices inside our own minds and offer them the gift of gentle grace. May our increasing capacity to love our own reflection compel us to look upon the rest of your creation with the same heart. Thank you for our forever identity in You. Amen.

Discussion questions:

1. The essay opens with the question, “What do you tell yourself when you look in the mirror or at a selfie or an unfiltered photo of yourself?” What are some of the reflex messages you tell yourself upon seeing your own reflection? Where might these messages come from?

2. You are precious. You are honored. You are loved. This is your eternal identity. How might you incorporate these truths into your daily life? When you’re tempted to forget, how might you remind yourself and one another?

3. In the waters of baptism, you were sealed with an eternal love and everlasting identity. What is the role of baptism in the life of your congregation and family unit? Brainstorm together about some ways you might incorporate the anniversary of your baptism into your life and routines (and if applicable, the rhythms of your small group)?

Emily Carson is a curator of curiosity! She serves as the Director of Communications for the Southeastern Minnesota Synod, ELCA and writes a weekly column for the Rochester Post-Bulletin called “Holy Everything.” Emily and her husband, Justin, love to go on outdoor adventures with their redbone coonhound, Finn.

 

 

 

Photos by Sandrachile and Alex Perez (water) on Unsplash.com. Used with permission.