Romans 5:8
But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

When I was little, my mom would tell me that she wanted to “gobble me up like a cheeseburger”. She didn’t mean harm—she was trying to say she loved me. And on one level, it felt good to be wanted. But on another, even then, it felt off. I was learning—without words—that I existed to make her happy, to sate her emotional appetite. I was her cheeseburger in pajamas.

My dad had his own hunger. He longed to be wanted, to feel worth. He had chosen the vocation of pastor partly because it promised him that. But when Mom couldn’t give him the affirmation he craved, she was written out of his script. And when I wasn’t performing, I was written out too. If I was funny, charming, or strong, I was welcome on his stage. If I wasn’t, I was invisible.

So I learned early: my worth came from being appetizing. Make people laugh. Be sensitive. Be charismatic. Pitch a good game. Lead the church play. Do what it takes to be gobbled up. And though I longed to feel wanted for who I was, I kept hustling to earn it.

As I grew older, the pattern stuck. I threw myself into adventure, into writing, into the dream of making a million dollars—anything to be appetizing enough to matter. But when those dreams fizzled, I needed something else.

Then Jesus caught me. And I became a pastor. Just like Dad.

But this was different. Unlike the stage my father used to secure his worth, I finally felt wanted—truly wanted—by Christ. Even when I stumbled, even when my sermons fell flat, I knew His love was secure, unconditional, everlasting. He wasn’t gobbling me up; He was receiving me.

Still, the old pattern lingered. Pastoral ministry can feed it. You know the drill: “What did you think of the sermon today?” “How is he leading?” “Did you enjoy the meal they served?” Normal questions, sure. But for me, they cut deep. Because under the surface I was still asking: Am I appetizing enough to matter? Or will I be spit out and written off the stage of their lives?

Do you feel gobbled up too? Like your worth hangs on whether you perform, please, or measure up? Do you long to be wanted just as you are? If so, hear this: in Christ, there is a better, more beautiful way. A way of unconditional love. A way to rest in worth that is gifted, not earned. A way to be chosen without being used.

I’m still learning to live into that better way. Maybe you are too. If so, let’s talk about it.