Feeling Worthless? Time to Restore Factory Settings.

I wonder if anyone feels worthless today.

Worth less at 50 than at 30. Worth less single than married. Worth less without the job title than with it.

Worth. Less.

If you’d like a rah-rah, straighten-your-crown soundbite, keep surfing the Internet, you’ll find it somewhere. But If you’d like an unabated truth bomb that transforms your actual heart, here it is, from Psalm 139:14: You came into this world fearfully and wonderfully made. That’s your default setting. God made you and said, “Wow.”

Yet, many of us are over here hustling for our worth. We put up, put out, or perform. We dress up and smile though we feel dressed down and small. If we get really good at worthlessness, it masquerades as humility.

Eventually, though, gravity wins—because worthlessness deflects praise down, while humility reflects praise up.

How do I know? A lifetime of worthlessness management, friend. I’m happy to say my Psalm 139 factory settings have mostly been restored, but the other day a friend gave me a compliment, and my inner critic sent it clanking to the ground. Even worse, I felt the sting of the Lord’s rebuke. God hard-wired me with the quality my friend called out, but I missed the chance to give her gratitude and Him glory. Psalm 139:14 fixes this.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

This isn’t easy, but it is natural. (Think factory settings!) Some of us come by a sense of worthlessness honestly. Mine thundered into this world on the backside of a loved one’s hand. If you endured abuse, suffered rejection, or got tangled up in a radioactive relationship, I’m just so sorry. But if we want to live, the fallout needs a shelf life.

I try really hard not to tell you what to do, but today I’ll make an exception. Please don’t believe the lie that God didn’t love you enough to protect you. Please don’t live like you’re unlovable. Please don’t think the looks and likes of the silly social media world set your worth. Please don’t quit when runners lap you in the first turn.

Your swing through that first turn is going to be something. Your beads of sweat will be an offering to the One who saw what you overcame. From that place of worth—backed by the authority of the only King who ever wore a barbed crown—you’ll know that His works are wonderful. And you’ll know that means you, too.

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