Chosen

I have always been troubled by the term "chosen" and the concept that God chooses some people and not others. What is so special about the Jews? Why would God choose them and not others? Should I wish I was Jewish?

Then after I became a Christian I realized that I am part of the "chosen" now. God has chosen me, has tugged at my heart until I surrendered to Him. But the head knowledge that I am now in that group of "chosen" is not the same as the gratitude which comes from heart knowledge.

I have been thinking about this a lot lately, because I do not always feel grateful for God's love. I always feel grateful for the circumstances of my life: my husband, my children, my health, my material possessions. But I sometimes go days without feeling gratitude for God's love of me.

When Catherine was in preschool, we had to park our car and go inside the building, into her classroom, every day to get her. Catherine always stopped whatever she was doing, ran to me, and yelled "Mommy! Mommy!" (I always treasure that moment of the day!)

Most of the children took the bus home and so their parents did not come to the school. So after a few weeks of Catherine attending there, all the children reacted by stopping whatever they were doing, running to me and yelling "Mommy! Mommy!" I would have to hug a dozen kids every day.

I always felt strange that I would look at all these children who ran up to me and called me "Mommy!" and would pick just one of them to actually take home. Only one of them was mine. I kind of cared a little about all the children, but one of them was incredibly special to me. Every day I felt like I was choosing one of the kids, Catherine, to take home.

I sometimes felt guilty that I couldn't take the other kids home - even just for dinner or to play. I have never read a book to any of those kids. I never helped any of them get dressed. I never bought any of them a gift. Can't even tell you when their birthdays were. Never woke up in the middle of the night because they were sick. They are not my children and I don't know them, and don't really care about them.

But every day all these kids would run up to me, hug me, and show me their new shoes or pretty shirts. But that didn't matter. Nothing that any of those kids could do would make me want to choose them to be the one to take home. Nothing they did could impress me enough to become my child. On the flip side, nothing Catherine could do could offend me enough for me to leave her at school.

I wonder if God feels like I felt in that preschool classroom. He looks at all of us, mere children. All of us may be calling Him by name. All of us have some value. But only some of us are really special enough to be His chosen.

This image of God walking into a group of people resonates with me. He ignores most of the people, despite their efforts to adore Him. But the select few that He chooses get the grand treatment: He stoops down, picks them up, cuddles with them, kisses them on the cheek, tells them He loves them, and takes them home.

How wonderful it is to be chosen!! How glad I am to be in that group!