The Value of Pride, Romans 4:5

Twenty-five thousand shillings.

That is what my labour brings each month, 

the sum that waits for me at payday, 

the figure that speaks before I do, 

the figure that makes me wonder 

whether my hands have ever produced anything of worth.

I watch my employer go about her life, 

while I count the days against my needs. 

My work occupies hours of my existence, 

yet I wonder whether she sees a man 

or merely a pair of hands 

that can be hired for a modest price.

I look at LinkedIn, 

at the silence where an invitation might have been, 

at the absence of someone saying, 

We have seen what you can do. 

Come, work with us.

Nobody comes.

And somewhere inside me, 

the silence begins to sound like a verdict. 

Perhaps my work is worthless. 

Perhaps I have nothing remarkable to offer. 

Perhaps the world has examined my labour 

and found little reason to pay attention.

How easily I turn a salary into a measure of a soul. 

How readily I let the absence of an offer 

become evidence against my existence.

Yet there is Someone 

whose opinion of me was written 

long before I ever received a payslip.

Christ Jesus.

He did not wait for my employer to recommend me. 

He did not wait for recruiters to discover my potential. 

He did not ask LinkedIn to establish my market value. 

He did not consult the world 

before deciding what He would do for me.

He went to the cross.

There, the Holy One took my place, 

bearing the judgment my wickedness deserved. 

The Righteous One stood where the unrighteous belonged, 

offering Himself as the sacrifice for my sins.

He did not merely speak kindly of me. 

He gave Himself for me.

And through His finished work, 

He gives me a place I could never earn: 

the standing of the righteous in Him.

What a transaction of mercy! 

My sin laid upon the sinless Saviour, 

His righteousness given to me by grace. 

My debt met by His sacrifice. 

My condemnation answered at Calvary.

I could never have negotiated such a bargain. 

No salary could purchase it. 

No promotion could secure it. 

No achievement could persuade Heaven 

to owe me what Christ freely gives.

He finished the work.

My righteousness rests upon Him, 

not upon the size of my monthly earnings, 

not upon the number of people who notice me, 

not upon the professional doors that remain closed.

And because I belong to Christ, 

I belong to a Kingdom 

whose citizenship was never for sale.

Heaven is my home by grace. 

Christ is my hope upon this earth 

and my confidence beyond the grave.

Perhaps I must endure many more mornings 

of feeling overlooked, 

many more months of counting shillings, 

many more evenings wondering 

why my labour attracts so little recognition.

Perhaps human beings will keep passing me by. 

Perhaps employers will keep seeing 

only what they can obtain for what they pay. 

Perhaps my name will remain absent 

from the lists of people others are eager to hire.

Abba-Father, teach me to endure 

without allowing their silence 

to become the language I use against myself.

For I confess, LORD, 

that I want to be valued here. 

I want my work to command respect. 

I want to earn enough to live with dignity. 

I want opportunities that give my abilities room to breathe. 

I want someone to recognise what I can contribute 

and open a door I cannot open alone.

These desires rise from a human heart 

that longs to be seen.

Yet I must remember 

that even if the whole world overlooks me, 

the cross remains standing.

My employer's opinion cannot undo Calvary. 

A recruiter's silence cannot reverse the resurrection. 

Twenty-five thousand shillings cannot cancel 

the righteousness Christ has given me. 

A thousand unanswered applications 

cannot revoke my citizenship in Heaven.

What Christ has finished, 

human rejection cannot unfinished.

And when You look upon me, Abba-Father, 

You receive me in Your beloved Son. 

I stand before You through Christ, 

accepted because of His righteousness, 

cleansed through His sacrifice, 

alive in the One who loved me 

and gave Himself for me.

Christ would never have placed me in Himself 

only to leave me measuring my worth 

by the world's willingness to employ me.

He has given me a place in Him.

That is where my heart must learn to rest 

while my feet keep walking through this life.

Let me seek better work without worshipping a better salary. 

Let me develop my abilities without making achievement my saviour. 

Let me pursue opportunities without begging human approval 

to tell me whether my existence matters.

I can desire a better wage 

without believing a small wage makes me a small man.

I can grieve the absence of recognition 

without declaring myself unworthy of recognition.

I can admit that I am struggling 

without concluding that I am nothing.

For my earthly circumstances tell one part of my story,

the finished work of Christ tells me 

where I stand before God.

And when this earthly life has run its course, 

when the last payslip has been issued, 

when every employer has become a distant memory, 

when LinkedIn has fallen silent for the final time, 

I will still have what Christ secured for me.

Himself.

His righteousness. 

His promise. 

His Kingdom.

So I will persevere.

Not because rejection feels harmless. 

Not because poverty is pleasant. 

Not because I have ceased to desire 

a life marked by dignity and provision.

I will persevere because my Saviour 

has given me a hope that human hands cannot withdraw.

Let the world take its time discovering my abilities. 

Let employers form their opinions. 

Let opportunities come slowly, 

even painfully slowly.

I will keep living. 

I will keep learning. 

I will keep seeking the work 

through which I can provide for those I love.

And when the weight of being overlooked 

presses hard against my heart, 

I will return to the cross 

and remember what Christ has done.

The world may offer me twenty-five thousand shillings a month.

Christ has given me a righteousness I could never earn, 

a place in Him I could never purchase, 

and a heavenly citizenship I could 

never secure by my own strength.

I must never confuse the price 

someone is willing to pay for my labour 

with the value of the grace 

Christ has freely bestowed upon me.

Abba-Father, help me live this truth 

until it becomes stronger than the voices of rejection.

Let me work without making work my identity. 

Let me wait without surrendering my hope. 

Let me walk through this world 

without mistaking its measurements for Yours.

For I have been seen at Calvary. 

I have been loved by the Son. 

I have been received through His finished work.

And though I may spend my earthly years 

longing for human beings to recognise my worth, 

I will spend eternity thanking the One 

who loved me before I could ever prove myself worthy.

Jesus Christ, my righteousness.

Jesus Christ, my acceptance.

Jesus Christ, my hope of glory.

When the world gives me little reason to feel valued, 

teach me to remember the cross.

When my salary tells me what my labour earns, 

teach me to remember what Your grace has given.

And when I grow weary of being overlooked, 

remind me that my life is hidden with Christ in God.

I am still here. 

I am still Yours. 

And because Christ has finished the work, 

my story does not end with the world's refusal 

to recognise me.

It ends in the presence of the One 

who gave Himself to bring me home.