I am more.
That sentence should sound familiar if you read my most recent column. It was about a local book signing for a book that I edited for Devan Millsong, of West Monroe: “I Am More: Confronting the Aftermath of Sexual Assault.”
And if you didn’t read the column and are interested, you can journey back in time with the Journal search tool and peruse it after you finish this week’s “Just A-Passing Through.”
I am more.
That sentence rang in my ears all during the time I was editing the book, and it still resounds today. The sentence and the sentiment are definitely fitting concerning the topic of the book. I’ve also realized that they are appropriate for even more situations.
I’ve been thinking about how every single person can apply this thought to their own life, regardless of their individual experiences. “I am more” is a universal truth.
Yes, the world does whisper its verdict – that we are flawed, fractured and finite. And, yes, the flawed and fractured parts of that trio of attributes are accurate. They’re accurate about every single one of us – somehow. They’re accurate about me. They’re accurate about you.
But that is not where the story ends. The third attribute – our being finite – is erroneous. We are not finite. And we are worth more than we can ever imagine.
We are more.
God’s breath breathed life into dust (Genesis 1:27), and this birthed eternity within us. He created us in his own image. Think about it. We’re crafted in the image of the Creator of the Universe. How marvelous is that?
And concerning our value? The cross bears witness: We are worth much more than anything this world can offer, such as gold or diamonds or platinum. We’re worth the weight of divinity. Jesus, who is Love incarnate, stretched wide his arms, bridging heaven and earth. Our value is immeasurable. Our worth? Calvary’s currency.
The verse that we’ve all heard so much confirms this: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” – John 3:16.
Yes, sin’s dissonance seeks to drown our song, but grace orchestrates a symphony. Each note – forgiveness, restoration, hope – can resound within our souls. We can be more than sin’s echoes; we can be melodies of mercy.
We have only to believe and obey God’s commands, which are simply laid out for us in the New Testament. (If you’re not familiar with this simple plan, I’ll be glad to help arrange a time to talk about it with my minister.)
And after that acceptance is put into action, we are able to say this: “He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins” – Colossians 1:13-14.
Our brokenness can be exchanged for his wholeness. We can be … more. Our ashes can be transformed into crowns. We can be more than survivors; we can be heirs of resurrection.
As dawn paints the sky every morning, so hope can rise within us. We can transcend night’s shadows. We can enter morning’s promise. We are brushstrokes on the canvas of eternity – a masterpiece signed by the Artist of Grace.
We are, indeed, more.
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Sallie Rose Hollis lives in Ruston and retired from Louisiana Tech as an associate professor of journalism and the assistant director of the News Bureau. She can be contacted at sallierose@mail.com.
