I was at a friends house the other day and he took me aside and showed me a mirror. And at first I was assuming it was a carnival mirror that distorted the reflection to make us laugh, something like that. But it wasn’t. It did something for him I’ve never seen another mirror do. It allowed him to see himself the way God sees him. And no matter how much he beat himself up for something he’d done, he’d always walk away knowing that he is forgiven and that God loves him. The first time I saw him use the mirror I was actually stunned at how well it worked. It would completely change his countenance from sorrow to joy, or anger to compassion. When I asked him if I could try it, he said that it only worked for the person who bought it. Naturally, I asked him how to get one of these mirrors and his response surprised me.

“It’s really expensive,” he said, which almost seemed like he was assuming I couldn’t afford it.

“I still want to buy one,” I said, asking him again. “Where can I get one?” wondering if he hadn’t heard me. He looked at me with a queer turn of his lip. His reluctance to answer was honestly strange. I rolled my eyes, giving the not so subtle hint that he was being annoying and asked again. “Where can I get one of these mirrors.”

“I don’t know if you’re going to like it,” he said, changing his tactics. “I didn’t want to at first.” He looked away almost as if he was recounting his own experience of something. He said something under his breath that sounded like, “I didn’t.”

“How much is it?” I asked again. My curiosity was now piqued.

“A lot,” he said, still not giving me the information I wanted. His reluctance was actually beginning to annoy me. But then he said, “It will cost you everything that’s really, really important?” he said.

“What?” My patience had grown to its limit. “Are you gonna be straight with me or what?” I asked. Well, demanded.

“I’m serious.” The look on his face revealed that he wasn’t telling me something, but it also caught me in a way that let me know that I didn’t really want to hear it either. I looked away, contemplating what it could possibly be that I would have to give up that would make him say that. Was it my house or my car, or my family? This honestly seemed strange that God would ask me to give up all of these things just to have a mirror just to hear what He wanted to tell me anyways. My mind was splitting at that point from a lack of caffeine and unending possibilities. And then he said, “And I’m not talking about stuff.”

I laughed in a way that was not humorous. I was stumped. “Then what are you talking about?” I said, just wanting to know.

“I’m talking about you.” There was a long silence as I tried to grasp what he was saying. And yet something inside of me didn’t let me speak. He continued, “You can’t buy the mirror unless you are willing to give up how you see yourself. Unless you are willing to give up all the lies you’ve been told about how bad you were and how worthless someone thought you were, or how great you tried to believe you were on your own. It won’t work.” My pulse began to race as I looked away. I wanted to discount what he had to say. I wanted to run actually. What kind of B.S. was he talking about?

And then it hit me, “but that would mean…”

“Yep,” he said, knowing that what I was thinking. “It would mean that there really is no magic mirror. There’s only the truth. That’s God loves me and you more than we can imagine. And that only He can establish us and validate us. Because everything else is second best. And the question is not is this true, but am I willing to give up what is in the way so I can accept it.”