A Little Talk With God

   In my bedroom I have a picture that I've had for a number of years, ever since my days when I was was managing L. Kane Store. I first ran across it on the cover of a Guidepost magazine. I can't remember the title. The  caption says, in case you can't read it- Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel and afterward receive me to glory. I love this picture and the scripture that goes with it. My problem is that I've become used to seeing it there hanging on the wall every day. I don't pay much attention to it or the scripture anymore, which is of course, not a good thing. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a tendency to see the negative in almost any situation. I complain a lot. I'm very much a pessimist. I wish I wasn't. It's not a fun way to be. I can take a perfectly good day that someone else may be having and turn it into an unpleasant experience. By the time they get done talking to me they're going to wish they'd stayed in bed. I've been on a roll lately. I'm exceptionally distressed by the direction that the country seems to be heading. I feel like we are without leadership in a complex and increasingly dangerous world. Add to that the more immediate problems facing the state with low oil prices, interference from the federal government involving state resources, and policies from the supreme court involving native sovereignty as well as the local politics that impact those of us in Hoonah, and I've got a full blown mad-on. My son happened to call yesterday. I  hadn't spoken to him for several weeks and unfortunately I spent the majority of the conversation complaining about how crappy things were in this country. I'm certain he was happy to get off the phone just to get away from all the negative garbage I was spewing. Hell, I wanted to get away from me. As has been my habit this winter, after I go to bed I spend some time with a book before I turn off the lights. When I finally finished reading, I turned to shut off the light and glanced at the picture on the wall. I figured I had blown it so bad that any prayer I might offer would seem insincere and perhaps not even be received. I can't recall the exact thing I said to God, but something to the effect that perhaps I wasn't worthy of the sacrifice that Christ had made for me. Immediately, I heard Jesus tell me, "you were worth it to me." That is sobering. It tells me that no one is beyond redemption. God knew long before I was ever even born how I would be, and because he knew, and because of his great love, he was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. We have great worth to God. He may have been speaking to me last night, but the message is for everyone. You are worth the price he paid for you.  You are precious and you are loved. There is little else that I can say. I hope that in the coming days when we feel overwhelmed by events, or our actions are less than stellar, when our attitudes leave much to be desired that we will remember that even with all of our faults, God felt like we were worth the sacrifice he had to make.