Redeemed

Whenever I hear the word "redeemed my first thought is always the glass counter at the Chucky Cheese containing all the stickers, bouncy balls, and random odds n' ends you could hope for. After all, that is where you redeem that piece of paper the ticket counting machine printed out for you after swallowing all the tickets you won bumping those crocodiles on the head. It's where you upgrade from one piece of paper to six mood rings and a hello kitty pencil with an eraser, thank you very much. It's the highlight of your visit to the mouse with the moves.

While I haven't been to Chucky Cheese in quite some time,  I do hear the word "redeemed" a lot and I always find myself relating to that piece of paper the ticket counting machine prints out for you. Out of context, that paper doesn't have much value. It's easily torn, destroyed, or trashed. It has no worth, unless there is a redeemer on the other side of that counter ready to exchange it. It symbolizes all of your effort. It's a record of all the times you flipped that coin into the dinosaur's mouth. But that effort doesn't get you the prize, it gets you that piece of paper and no matter what the number on the paper says, it doesn't matter unless there is a redeemer of that paper on the other side of the counter.

My piece of paper might not be evidence of my human effort to make as many baskets as I can in 30 seconds, but my piece of paper is caked with times where I've missed the shot. It's a record of my sin and the times where I've trusted myself more than I've trusted my God. Times where I've boasted in my own strength, not realizing my weakness. Times where I've turned to things to satisfy desires, only to be left unsatisfied. Times where my effort just didn't measure up. Times where I was hoping my effort would get me the prize, forgetting that unless there is a Redeemer in the mix, I can try all I want but there's no redemption. Only a Redeemer can redeem.

But when you hand that piece of paper over the counter into the hands of the Redeemer, suddenly instead of holding a useless piece of paper, you've got that sticky gak that caught your eye the first 30 seconds you walked in and the best part is that when it's in your hands, it's even better than you imagined. It feels so much better than when you were holding onto that paper. And that paper you held on to so tight, is thrown out, forgotten, not given a second glance. All of this made possible by the fact that the ticket redeemer showed up to work and was there on the other side of the counter.

How thankful I am that the Redeemer of my life is always there. That He can take my tattered heart, my failures, my measly efforts and turn them into something better than I even imagined.  That He takes that worthless piece of paper willingly into His own hands. That my worth is not dependent on that paper, but on the fact that my Redeemer showed up. That I am not known by my sin because my Redeemer has thrown out the paper and in it's place given me the prize from the highest shelf. Oh, how thankful I am that my Redeemer lives.