Castaway Penny

I'm going to cry. Hold on a moment this is going to take a bit.

***

Okay. 

I'm ready. 

Mostly. 

Enough to ask a rhetorical question: Do you realize that your golden opportunity is someone else's unwanted one? 

Which sounds bad. Isn't it lovely in life to be told that you got someone else's reject? A shopper returned the dress because they didn't like it. The previous employee quit because they wanted something better. Your current significant other's ex broke up with them because they weren't good enough. You bought a bunch of reject items on a discount because they had flaws. The descriptive words that come to mind are cheap, broken, disappointing, unworthy, deficient, flawed, etc.

So when I tell you that your golden opportunity is only available to you because someone else didn't want it, that sounds pretty bad, doesn't it? 

I think there's a part of all of us (yes, I realize I'm making a gross generalization) that wants to believe there is a special task, a purpose, a life path designed specifically for each of us. We are special and we deserve a unique and original life, job, partner, outfit, or whatever it is. And yes, I think that's true. We are unique. We are special. Sorry, probably shouldn't put the word special in with a general pronoun. YOU are special. YOU are unique. YOU have a specific path and purpose that YOU get to find and enjoy. 

But in thinking that and looking for that task, don't forget that just because you have a unique purpose doesn't mean you're going to find it right away. Or that no on else is going to try your thing before you get there. I suppose I imagine opportunities and experiences in life like trying on a dress. I go to the store, look through the dress rack, sort the dresses out by size (and automatically reject everything not my size), then I sort out the color (I automatically reject most yellows and oranges), then I sort out the style (not really a form fit, fancy fabric sort of person), and from everything that's left, I'll try things on and reject 98% of anything that makes it to the fitting room. And on occasion in that 2% that's left I'll find a treasure that I love and wear and feel slam-dunk gorgeous in for years. On occasion. 

I suppose, considering how many options I reject, I could feel bad for choosing one dress that someone else (or several someone else's) have already rejected fifty times before. I could feel not very special. But I don't because when I put on that dress I feel like it was made for me. And I am incredibly grateful that everyone else rejected it so that I could have it. 

Not interested in dresses? Fear not, I have another analogy. Do you realize that every penny on the ground waiting to be found is a penny that someone else didn't want? A reject? Not worth putting in a purse or keeping track of? A hassle? Something to throw away or drop? And then, after it's been cast away, think of how many people walked past that penny and chose not to pick it up because it was too dirty and germy, not worth it (it is only $0.01. You can't buy much with that anymore). And that's only if they see it! But how many times are pennies not even noticeable enough to be seen? 

Which begs the question, when you come along and see that penny, do you see it? Do you want it? Do you pick it up every time? I do. And as an avid penny collector I can tell you that I've never felt less than or un-special when I've picked up a castaway penny. That penny, someone else's reject, is mine. Made just for me. Placed just where I need it with a message that's all mine. Germy, gross, corroded, and financially worthless, perhaps, but absolutely perfect for me.

So, my friends, do not cast away your castaway pennies. When the answers to your prayers, the fulfillment of your expectations comes, don't turn away because the person before you already tried it or refused it. Each person who passed that penny before you, picked it up, turned it over, and dropped it again, got that penny to that spot where you would be ready to pick it up. When God gives you a castaway penny don't reject it. Please. 

Please. 

Because there are two sides to every coin and, thanks to my sister, I was reminded of the other side of a castaway penny. Which is why I'm about to cry again. 

You, my friend, are a penny. A beautiful, glorious, small, $0.01 penny. (I absolutely love and adore pennies, can you tell?). Unfortunately, in this life you're also probably a rejected penny. A castaway. Invisible. Passed by. Unwanted. Forgotten. Judged. Dismissed. Over time you pick up dirt. You accumulate grime. Water corrodes you. Stuck in slime and muck and icky. Or trapped in a layer of dark, sticky tar on top of unforgiving asphalt. Castaway to a place so dark and lonely you can't help but wonder who would ever want you. 

God. 

God wants you. 

He wants you.

Because He is an avid penny collector, and as my sister said, "No matter how dirt encrusted or dented [you] are, God sees the shiny person underneath and picks [you] up anyway." 

Your worth didn't change as the dirt and dust built up. Your glory and brilliance aren't gone. That copper hue still colors you. The imprint of whose you are (Christ's and God's) is still permanently etched into who you are. And He knows it. He sees it.

I said last week that God picks up His people. I didn't stress that enough last time. He picks you up. Gritty, gross, gray, whatever. Imperfect, lost, irredeemable--doesn't matter. He picks you up. He pockets you. He takes you home. Then He cleans you up. Polishes you. (I'm guessing because I actually don't polish or clean my pennies. I love them absolutely and purely as they are. They don't have to change to be precious. I suspect the same is true of God. He probably cleans us because we ask Him to. Not because He doesn't love us dirty). And puts you in His collection. The one He takes with Him wherever He goes because you're just that special. Precious. Worth it. Worthy. 

Already and always a cherished castaway penny in the palm of His hand.