You are Mine

I have recently rediscovered Ray LaMontagne, and one of his songs called “Jolene.” I’m not sure why, but I could listen to this song every day for the rest of my life. It’s just one of those songs.

When I hear it, I see an old record player spinning on a hard wood floor, and rain rolling down window after window, and I imagine a man sitting there-smoking a cigarette- thinking, “it’s too late.” But who hasn’t been there before?

This morning I woke up and meandered, like usual, and then I remembered my favorite chapter in the bible, Isaiah 43. Now, these two isolated happenings may seem completely unrelated to one another, but they have basically laced fingers in a hand hold.

“Jolene” is all regret. It’s all “this is what I should have done,” and “this is the way it is.” Not to mention that he’s in a ditch with “beer in his hair, and blood on his lips,” and I’m sure his heart is in the same condition:

“I still don’t know what love means, I still don’t know what love means.”

But I still listen to it over and over and over again. The question isn’t why, because if you’re human, even if you don’t know a Jolene, and didn’t just buy a “hard pack of cigarettes, in the early morning rain” you’ve, at some point in your life, found yourself bleeding and bruised in a ditch.

This is a metaphor of course; if you’ve actually found yourself in this condition before, I apologize for bringing it up again…and I’d advise you to be more cautious in the future

Been so long since I seen your face
Or felt a part of this human race
I've been living out of this here suitcase for way too long
A man needs something he can hold onto
A nine pound hammer or a woman like you
Either one of them things will do

Yep, we’ve all probably been there. Bad day, so you wake up late, or you lie in bed, or you go to class and daydream about the things gone wrong. “A man needs something to hold on to,” this is true.

And maybe the things we try to hold are heavier than our arms, and shoulders, and backs can handle. And then when it falls through, we’re left bent over, staring at our feet, wondering why in the world we tried carrying “it” in the first place…

And then there’s Isaiah 43. And verse one, the verse that’s scribbled on a white piece of paper and kept in my gold locket.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.”
I could read that verse every day for the rest of my life because, for some reason, it’s gotten stuck on me too.

It makes the lyrics of “Jolene” disappear, and it makes the crooked back, and worn arms, and tired shoulders of the carrier straighten. It gives a man something to hold on to. And the thing isn’t a woman, or man, or a job or any of the other things we put ourselves into, hoping we’ll keep ourselves from falling…it’s God.

Do you ever sit still and think about God? I mean really think about Him. I assure you, if you try, you won’t be able to do it for very long.

I always start off thinking about how amazing it is that I’m breathing, and seeing, and speaking, and thinking. And then I think, “a breathing, and seeing, and speaking God made me.” And then I think, “He’s there, somewhere.” And then I think….”there’s a God. A God. A great, big, mighty, loving, God.”

And then my mind goes blank and I can only imagine the light, and the love, and the greatness of that idea.

God is stuck on me.

“Fear not for I have redeemed you.”

When I’m lying in the ditch, God’s standing on the side, ready to pick me up and set me somewhere good. He’s just ready. All I have to do is get my mind off of the letdown, and offer my hand.

“I have called you by name, you are mine.”

I know I said that verse one is my favorite, but this part of verse one is actually my favorite because it means more than God redeeming me, and offering me a hand, and pulling me from the muck to set me on solid ground. It means I belong to him.

We belong to God.

It doesn’t seem like a revolutionary thought, but it is. “Fear not, for I have redeemed you,” doesn’t mean I partially forgive, I partially heal, I partially love, it means the opposite. And “I have called you by name, you are mine,” gives me a place, a home, and it isn’t in a ditch, it’s in the Kingdom of God, and if that doesn’t make your knees weak, and your heart light, and your mind fuzzy, I don’t know what else to say.

Is there anything greater than a mother’s love for her baby? Her baby that makes messes, and spills things, and cries, and can’t really do anything to repay the mother for all she’s done, but still, the mother loves the baby anyway, because the baby came from her blood and bones, or in other words, the baby belongs to her. And all the mother really wants isn’t the baby to clean up its own messes, or rock itself to sleep, or grow up quickly and leave her; all she wants is its love and affection. Why? Because she has called the baby by name, and claims it as her own.

We can’t repay God for our debts, and we can’t undo our messes, and though we may be able to walk away from God, it’s actually a longer, darker, and harder walk than the “narrow” one. We have nothing to offer but ourselves. And even so, what we have to offer isn’t even mildly good. It’s like repaying God with pennies when he bought us with gold.
And this amazes me because He wants my pennies. He wants my pennies because, by grace, he can make them into gold. That’s what redemption is. Redemption isn’t taking mistakes, and giving back mistakes. Redemption is taking mistakes and giving back blessings, forgiveness, and unconditional love. Redemption is saving. Redemption is changing. Redemption is Jesus Christ.

Man, it just blows my mind. God exchanges my pennies for gold, or in other words, He exchanges my messes and letdowns for forgiveness and righteousness...

He exchanges my death for His life.