WHEN GOD SAYS “YOU ARE STILL MINE”

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There is a quiet fear that haunts every human heart. It’s the fear of being disqualified. The fear that we could make a mistake so great, endure a trial so fierce, or run so far away that we would forfeit our place in the arms of love. We carry this fear into our lives, our relationships, and most profoundly, into our relationship with God.

But what if that fear was based on a lie? What if the voice of God was cutting through all that noise with a truth so simple and so powerful it could change everything?

Listen closely, for our Lord is speaking:

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.” (Isaiah 43:1)

It is not a suggestion; it is a declaration. It is the unshakable foundation upon which we can build our lives. To understand it, let’s imagine a scene:

There was once a child who, in a moment of carelessness, broke his father’s most prized possession—a handcrafted glass sculpture, a masterpiece of light and form. The sound of it shattering was deafening. In tears and terror, the child fell to the floor, bracing for the anger and punishment he knew he deserved. But the footsteps that came were not heavy with rage. The father knelt, not to inspect the damage, but to gather his child. He embraced him tightly and whispered, “Oh, my child. Are you hurt? You are more precious than anything you could ever break.”

That is a glimpse into the heart of our Lord. That is how God sees us.

We know the feeling all too well. It’s the shame that washes over us after we lose our temper. It’s the quiet ache of falling back into a sin we swore we had conquered. It’s the hollow feeling of missing Church again, of breaking a promise, of simply drifting away until God feels like a distant memory. We look at our spiritual lives and see the shattered pieces of our good intentions, and we think, “I’ve disqualified myself.”

But hear this today, and let it sink into the bottom of your heart: God’s love is not performance-based. It is covenant-based.

He didn’t choose you because He foresaw a future of flawless perfection. He chose you in the midst of your mess because He saw your truest self through the lens of His grace. He didn’t wait for you to be worthy; He made you worthy through the greatest act of love in history. The Apostle Paul states it with breathtaking clarity:

“But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8, KJV)

Read that again. While we were yet sinners. At your absolute worst, at your most rebellious state, at your most lost—that is the moment God chose to prove His love for you. He loved you then. So don’t you dare believe the lie that you are unloved now. Your failures are not the final word. His grace is. You are still His.

There are seasons when life itself feels like it’s burning to the ground. The phone call that changes everything. The job that is lost. The person you cannot imagine living without who is suddenly gone. The slow, simmering fire of chronic illness or a broken heart. In these moments of intense heat, it can feel like you are losing everything, including yourself. And the silence from heaven can feel deafening.

But God never promised to keep you from the fire. He made a much better promise: He would walk with you through it. His presence is the promise.

“When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.” (Isaiah 43:2)

The fire has power, but it does not have ultimate power. It can scorch you. It can scar you. It can change your life irrevocably. But it cannot touch your spirit. It cannot penetrate it. It cannot separate you from the One who holds you. You may feel unrecognizable after what you’ve been through, stripped of everything you once were. But the voice of your Father cuts through the flames, and He says: “You’re still mine. Not even this fire can take you from Me.“

Some of us are runners. We know the truth, we’ve tasted the grace, but when fear, shame, rebellion, or sheer exhaustion sets in, our instinct is to flee. Like Jonah, we board a ship in the opposite direction. Like the Prodigal Son, we take our inheritance and head for a distant country, convinced we can make it on our own. We run, hoping to outpace our pain or the call of God on our lives.

But there is a glorious, wonderful truth we must never forget: God runs, too. And He runs toward you.

We can see this in the father of the prodigal son. He didn’t sit on his porch, tapping his foot, waiting for a perfectly rehearsed apology. When he saw his prodigal son from afar, the Bible paints us a picture of breathtaking compassion:

“And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20, KJV)

The father ran. He abandoned all dignity and ran to his broken, filthy son. He embraced him before he could even confess. This is the divine pursuit. Even when you are trying to leave Him, His love never leaves you. It is scanning the horizon, waiting, longing for your return.

If we will quiet our hearts for just a moment, if we will listen past the voices of accusation and fear, we will hear a voice speaking directly to us. I believe it will sound something like this:

“My child, I know your wounds. I know your regrets. I know what they said about you, and I know what you did. But none of it changes the truth: You are still mine. I still want you. I still have plans for you, plans that your past cannot derail. Come back. Or if you can’t run back, just turn around. I never stopped calling your name.”

This is not wishful thinking. This is the unbreakable promise that anchors all of history, secured by the cross and sealed by the empty tomb. It is the final declaration over your life:

“For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39, KJV)

If you feel broken by your failures, if you’ve walked away and feel lost in the distance, if you’re scorched by the fires of life and numb and tired of pretending, then this is your moment of return. Return to Him. You are still His.

You don’t need to have the right words. You don’t need to clean yourself up first. Just lift your eyes. Open your heart. Because He’s been waiting for you the whole time.

And He is whispering to you now, in the deepest part of who you are:

“You are still mine.”