Owned

Hubby and I were lying in bed discussing what it felt like to have a Creator. It was a real realization to him. Okay, the guy's relatively new at this Christianity thing so he was pretty amazed at the implications. To him, it meant being looked over and watched.

But for me, I've always been aware that I was made by a Creator and I've had a long time to think about it. I was always aware that the Creator made things for me: One tongue, so many taste buds that can detect between zillions of tastes. That's a god who wants us to enjoy things, definitely? A Creator who made so many lovely things for our eyes to feast on. Purely to delight the eyes! A Creator who made the act of procreation so much fun! A Creator who delights to work with His Creation and who genuinely loves the good things His creation makes. I have no doubt, for instance, that God loves movies...because it shows the ingenuity of His people.

But the most important thing of all that connects to me as a creation is that I am owned. I am not my own. I bear higher allegiance to something greater than myself..simply because that Something Greater created me.

As a Christian we are doubly-owned. One, because God made us and we are owned because our maker made us. Simple, and universal. Two, because we were bought back again by the Blood of Jesus. Now, this isn't totally universal because much of the world doesn't acknowledge this.

Then as a Christian married person, many of us are triply-owned. The Bible tells us that we are not our own but our body belongs to our spouse. My spouse can't go putting his you know what any old where because it belongs to me. Nor can I go off and do the same thing...however cute the stud might be. And as Christians we see that we are the Bride of Christ, another ownership issue between us and the Creator.

Oh sure, many folks in the rest of the world don't like the idea of being owned. They like being self-made or their own person. But Christians don't have that luxury...or rather, we shy away from that sin. We know to whom we belong. And belong is a word that doesn't offend us.

I'm glad I'm owned. Better than being made then discarded and left to rot and -- hubby would definitely ponder this part-- fend for myself.