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There once was a little boy names Luke, the middle child. Luke was not the oldest child with the leadership qualities and bossy attitude. He was not the youngest child in the family who was always cute and could do no wrong. Even at the age of seven, Luke had much stress and trouble. He could do nothing right at home, leading him to feel like his every action was analyzed under a microscope. The boy felt like he never measured up. At school, he felt like he was the object of everyone’s ridicule.
Luke had recently won a school contest which opened him up to the jealousy of his classmates. Taylor would ask the class to raise their hands if they “hated Luke.” In order to fit in with the crowd, every hand would go up. For several weeks, Luke felt bullied. He was not able to sleep at night and suffered great pain in his stomach. He began to chew on his shirt collar in his nervousness.
Luke tried praying at bedtime, hoping this would aid in going to sleep and having happy dreams. Still, he would spend the night awake or dozing in and out after a bad dream. He tried playing a praise DVD to quiet him after a day of being bullied. This music calmed his spirit and allowed sweet peaceful sleep. No longer was Luke defensive at the teasing of his peers. He was able to ignore the bullies and keep things in perspective. Luke learned a deeper trust of God through his trials.
If his Father in heaven knows how many grains of sand are on the beach, he will care for Luke. God knows how many hairs are upon our heads. Before we were born, He knew us. He knit us together in our mother’s wombs. Each of us is so very important to the Father. If we go to heights of the dawn, or sail to the depths of the sea, even there His hand will guide us and hold us steadfastly.
If the Father feeds the sparrows, surely He can care for our needs. As a Father, He gives good gifts to every child. There are no favorites and no partiality. He loved us when we were unloveable. Each of us holds a unique place in His heart. We are of utmost value to the Father.
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