The Seventeen Words I Want My Loved Ones to Live By

This is the sign I ask our eleven-year-old grandson to read aloud every time he comes to the house. “This is my Father’s world, and I am His beloved, so I don’t need to prove myself.” I want every clause of that long sentence to settle into his heart and his mind, I want that gravy to soak into the bread for him.

“This is my Father’s world.”

This is the opening line in the famous hymn. The opening stanza goes on to say what I want to happen in my grandson’s heart: “This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought.” I want him (and me, and my wife and our children, and our fellowship) not just to know that we walk about in our Father’s world but to find rest in that knowledge.

When world events seem to spin out of control, I can be tempted to forget that this is my Father’s world; I might wonder if the world belongs to the handful of powerful men and women who have their hands on the wheel, steering us toward disaster.

But then I remember: “This is my Father’s world.” Big sigh of relief.

“…and I am His beloved.”

I am the one in whom He takes such great delight. I love how the ancient Hebrew prophet Zephaniah puts it: “Yahweh your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing” (Zeph 3:17).

We’ve all been at the children’s choir concert where the anxious little one scans the audience looking for the familiar face of her parents and then her face beams with delight when she sees them. I can take great pleasure and find great security in the knowledge that the One who created this vast and wonderful world has a great fondness for me.

Because I am His beloved, nothing else can trouble me.

“…so I don’t need to prove myself.”

Because all of that is true, I can rest in the knowledge that I am not in a life-long audition to earn His approval. I am His beloved not because I’ve behaved myself, not even because my intentions are good; in fact, not for anything I’ve done or intended to do. When He looks at me, He sees not my sin and guilt but the perfect righteousness of His Son, in whom He is “well pleased” (as He said Himself more than once).

Knowing I don’t need to prove myself takes the pressure off. I don’t need to worry about what others think of me, nor do I need to worry about what I think of myself. He delights in me, so everything else is details.

My grandson reads the words on the sign with all the thoughtfulness and enthusiasm that all boys his age read words aloud: not much. But I tell him that some day these words will explode in his heart, and he’ll never be able to see himself or our world or his Father the same way.

“This is my Father’s world, and I am His beloved, so I don’t need to prove myself.”

Let us persevere in saying and believing that.