I picked up my phone and looked at the picture in the text, first.

It was my cousin’s piano, which she wanted to sell. Then I read her brief text. She said, “What do you think on the price? The pictures are attached.”

I looked back at the piano, again. Several picture frames displaying family photos were scattered across the top of the piano. I thought, “Those things are attached? Man… I wonder if it will ruin the finish of the piano to get them off.”

So I texted her back and said, “The pictures are attached? Can you get them off?”

She texted back, “????”

Then I realized. She meant the pictures of the piano were attached to the text. I threw my head back, laughing. I realized that I had momentarily lost my mind. I called my cousin, still laughing, and said, “Yes, I do know what it means to attach a picture!”

How many times have I said the same thing? “The picture is attached.” I don’t mean with glue or staples or nails. I mean, it’s attached with an imaginary paperclip to an email or text that I can’t hold in my hand. It’s real, for sure. But if your definition of real is being able to put the picture on your refrigerator with a magnet, or wad the document into a ball… when then, it’s harder prove how real the attachment is.

So what about my attachment to God? Is it real? I can’t put His picture on my fridge. I can’t reach out and put my hand in His. When I attach my life to his, sometimes it’s a bit like using that paperclip icon on my screen. It’s not the sort of ‘attachment’ that you add and then lick the envelope.

Sometimes, I have these fleeting questions. I wonder,

  • “Am I really ‘in Christ’?”
  • “Is God really directing me with His ‘hand’?”
  • “Have I really heard His voice?”

Then, I realize that I’ve momentarily lost my mind. I throw my head back and laugh, realizing that there’s nothing more real in my life, than my attachment to Christ.

Nothing can snatch me from His hand. My name is written in his book. He is mine and I am His, and that attachment is infinitely stronger than any paperclip or envelope. Even death can’t separate me from Him.

 

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