Wanted

“I guess I’ll take T.” Those are words that you never want to hear. Especially if you are the last one picked when choosing teams. I understand that somebody has to be chosen first, and some have to be in the middle, and of course, some have to be last. But it is more than just a numbers game. It is a determination of what others think about your worth.


Now, if you are one of the lucky ones and got picked first all the time, then this does not apply to you. But, if you are like those who get picked last, who aren’t invited to the “cool” party, or who aren’t asked out or when doing the asking are rejected, this is for you.

We all want to be wanted. And when we are rejected, not chosen (or chosen by default), ignored, or, which by the way may be the worst, not noticed, it hurts and the wound from that hurt undoubtedly leaves a scar. We all want to be wanted. Because being wanted equals being loved. If somebody wants us, then they are affirming that we are loved. And being loved affirms that we are lovely.

On the other hand, feeling unwanted equals being unloved. And being unloved affirms in our minds and hearts that we are not lovely. In fact, we are ugly, not important, and of no value. You then begin to feel that you are not good enough, that there must be something wrong with you, and soon you have traversed the slippery slope and end up at the bottom of the hill with only this to show for it. You are alone. I recognize that that may not always be the case, but it is how one feels that seem to overwhelm the reality. And what a life that is.

This past weekend, our church had an event. It was the kick off to our Vacation Bible School. The community was invited to have free hot dogs, cake, and juice. They also had a Pinewood Derby race and were pre-registering for VBS. It was a nice day and all the kids were running around and having a rousing game of “Ring around the Rosie”.

All except for one.

I am guessing that he was maybe four. A friend who was invited to the event invited his mother, so he came along. As the moms were talking, this little guy, who obviously didn’t know anyone, found a spot beside the building where he could sit. Out of the way and nearly unnoticed, he watched others. But before I finish, I must take you to another time.

(Years ago, I got a call from my mom, who told me that my dad, according to the doctor, only had about two weeks to live. The cancer had progressed at a fast pace and it wasn’t going to be much longer. I was living eight hundred miles away and it was winter. Making the drive through the snow and the icy roads was difficult especially through the pass. But I was just thinking. And praying. Not about the weather or for a safe drive. I was thinking about my dad.

My dad was a strong self-reliant man. He was well liked and was good at whatever he did. A great ball player, a great bowler, and a great mechanic. Once in the winter, in our little garage, he cut a van and mounted a pickup camper, welded it up, put sides on it, and after two months, out came an RV. But for all of the things that he was, there was one thing that he wasn’t. He wasn’t a believer. He hadn’t asked Jesus to be his Savior.

For some people, that wouldn’t be that big of a deal. And some just want to make the dying person as comfortable as possible. But when Jesus is your Lord, and you believe in a heaven and a hell, there is a far greater thing at stake. And my purpose for visiting my dad was one-fold. I was for the last time, going to tell him about the wonderful saving grace of God.

When I arrived at my parent’s house, I hugged my mom, greeted my aunts, and with heart pounding, I went into the bedroom to see my dad. I told him about God, I told him about heaven, I told him about hell, I told him about sin, I told him about forgiveness, I told him about the cross, and I told him about Jesus.

My dad, in that bed, looking nothing like he used to, with a tear in his eye, said to me, “Do you think that Jesus really wants me?” “More than anything”, I said. “He died for you. That’s how much He wants you.” “Well then, I want him too.” And with that, my dad’s destiny was forever changed. And two weeks later, when my dad passed from this life to the next, I didn’t shed a tear. I just nodded. We all want to be wanted. )

And now, back to the weekend. As I looked at that little, hair tossed boy, sitting by the building, I thought, he just wants to be wanted. As I continued looking, I begin to take pictures. Because I realized that God did not only want this little boy, the little boy was sitting at the only place that matters. At the foot. And you will always be wanted at the foot.