The past few days two of my children have been sick with colds and flu. They are (mostly) grown kids who have busy lives and jobs and friends, so these days I see them less than I used to. Yet here they are, even as I write this, laid up on sofas in my living room before a warm fire, under quilts, looking up at their mama gratefully as I bring them homemade soup, juice, or stroke their face and lay a cool cloth on their head.

There is a surge of joy in me at these times. Though I try to foster independence in my kids, and am pleased when they do well on their own, I must say there is nothing like those times when they are in a weakened state and need their mom. Oh, how I love having them right here needing me. Gone is the stubbornness of “I can do it myself” or the rolling of the eyes when I offer suggestions of how they can better care for themselves. Now it’s “Mama…I need you.”

A couple of nights ago when one of my daughters was staying here at the onset of her illness, she and Brad and I sat in the living room for a long time talking. She shared her deepest desires for her life. She wanted to hear what we had to say about her doubts and fears. She was seeking our counsel. It was a beautiful gift to have the chance to share God’s enduring love for her, and His plans to give her hope and a future--even in the face of this world we inhabit, which especially to young people often seems quite bleak.

The fact is, if she had not been sick, and tired, and needing her mama, we would not have had that time together. It got me thinking about us—you and me—and our Father.

When we are broken, and needy, and tired of the struggle to live strong in this hostile civilization, we are--like my children when they are sick and hurting--more likely to call out to God to come to us. We need Him to tend to our hearts, feed our souls with His nourishing love, counsel us with His word and His whisper to our hearts.

It is our very inabilities and flaws and limitations that allow God to connect with us.

And in that crazy only-God-would-do-it-like-this way, it is that same humanness that allows Him to shine out of us. Our weakness is His glory.

Yet, many times I have heard people talking about how they don’t “have it together” or refer to the mistakes and blunders of their lives, or their own emotional issues, and use this as evidence that God could not use them. I wonder at this insistence some of us have about being a certain way before God will call us to serve Him.

John Wimber, who was one of the founding fathers of the Vineyard church, was an atheist. The first time he went to church he asked rather loudly, “What the hell is wrong with these people?!” Before he died John Wimber and his wife led hundreds of people to God.

Donald Miller, a gifted writer whose books are exposing many people to the love and grace of God was a clumsy, fatherless, misfit of a young man who once told God, “You don’t exist.” (Which is a little bit funny, if you think about it. If you don’t believe someone exists, why would you talk to him? Just a side note….)

When God told Ananias to go to the house where Saul was staying and lay hands on him to restore his sight, Ananias protested. He said to God (in essence) “Are you kidding me? I’ve heard a lot of bad stuff about this guy. Seriously. He’s a jerk.” But God replied: "Go! This man is my chosen instrument to carry my name before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel.”

I think it’s safe to say that these people didn’t exactly ‘have it together’ when God chose them.

I have heard people say things like: “I’m too: shy, old, young, ordinary… or “I’m just me,” they say. “I have a lot of questions” or “I’m not that good of a Christian.”

To them I say, “Um…Saul? You know…the one who became the apostle Paul? Yeah. Not that good of a Christian.”

The young man who prayed and led me to Jesus was quiet, shy, ordinary looking, and had struggled with homosexuality for most of his young life. His prayers and kindness and faithfulness to what God chose him to do changed my life. Eternally. In the most significant and astounding way there is: he brought me to my Jesus.

Today as we thank God for His provision for Dakota House, and continue to place our needs before Him, I am also thanking Him for choosing us. You and me. Silly, weak, hurting, wonderful us. With all our flaws and wounds and limitations, He still chose us. To love in His name. To extend a kind hand. To tell our world and everyone in it that Jesus loves us all.

I shall end with a paragraph from Donald Miller’s book, Blue Like Jazz, in which he speaks of those entirely fallible and very human disciples of Jesus, as well as our own ‘immense worth and beauty.’

It must have been wonderful to spend time with Jesus, with Somebody who liked you, loved you, believed in you, and sought a closeness foreign to skin-bound man. A person would feel significant in His presence. After all, those who knew Christ personally went on to accomplish amazing feats, proving unwavering devotion. It must have been thrilling to look into the eyes of God and have Him look back and communicate that human beings, down to the individual, are of immense worth and beauty and worthy of intimacy with each other and the Godhead. Such an understanding fueled a lifetime of joy and emotional health among the disciples that neither crowds of people jeering insults, nor prison, nor torture, nor exclusion could do. They were faithful to the end, even to their own deaths.