America’s latest outrage is the messy mid-term election.  Both sides hurl charges of fraud. Nobody is proud of the process.  Os Guinness, a social and cultural critic, might say this is but more evidence of “a heaving sea of problems” that has weakened America.

In his recent book, Last Call for Liberty, he pulls no punches.  He sees our problems as “hollowed-out beliefs and weakened ethics; declining trust in institutions and leaders; self-enriching elites; cancerous racism; pay-for-play politics; politicized criminal justice; crony capitalism; blinkered higher education; collapsed civic education; biased mainstream press; politicized corporations; crippling national debt; a surveillance state; porous borders; failing inner cities; fractious culture warring; talk of secession; social stress, anxiety, and loneliness.”  America is way more pluribus than unum.  We are fractured, and that’s dangerous for a country founded on a united definition of freedom.

A wise, old fisherman once wrote to another distressed people that various trials can test and prove your faith.  In the light of eternity, the things of earth grow strangely dim.  Today we endure botched elections and a fractured citizenry, but tomorrow we will be delivered from all this, “obtaining as the outcome of your faith the salvation of your souls” (1 Pet. 1:9).

The contrast between the troubles of today and the promise of eternity can fill you with hope and joy, especially when you consider the extent to which God communicated these things to us.  “The prophets who prophesied of the grace that would come to you made careful searches and inquiries, seeking to know what person or time the Spirit of Christ within them was indicating as He predicted the sufferings of Christ and the glories to follow…things into which angels long to look” (1 Pet. 1:10-12).

One of those prophets was Isaiah.  Over 2700 years ago while his nation suffered its own fractures and threats, he wrote, “The people who walk in darkness will see a great light…for a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us…and His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace” (Is. 9).

If I was an angel, I would want to see this too!  A great drama unfolds on the earth, with mankind as both the antagonist and victim.  A Rescuer appears, not armed for battle, but as a babe in his mother’s arms.  He grew up not to conquer the world, but to love and die for it.  He didn’t stay dead, but lived again, offering escape and eternity to all who believe.  What a marvelous mystery of Divine authorship!

By faith you can experience something no other creature can: redemption, which means reclaimed by your Creator.  To be distressed by sin is to be human; to be redeemed is to be touched by God.  It leaves you rejoicing and the angels longing.

One way America recognizes its heroes is with the Congressional Medal of Honor. The award includes a citation which describes in detail what happened, including when and where. Last month, the President awarded the Honor to John Canley for his actions as a marine in Vietnam, 1968. Gunnery Sergeant Canley matters, and his name is etched into history.

History also documents a rather eclectic group of people who shared a common goal, to build a wall. It calls out scores of names, describing their actions and where they built. The account includes curious details. It notes the builders’ usual professions (priest, goldsmith, perfumer, government official). One man’s daughters helped with his section. Some worked beside their own houses. They undertook the work at personal risk, threatened with the accusation of sedition. (Neh. 3)

Why would the Bible record such detailed history? We know it outlines a grand narrative of God’s dealing with humanity, but it does so with stories of real people. In this story of the wall around Jerusalem, we witness what matters to God. People’s names, professions, and work locations are important. Where they lived mattered. The role of women mattered. God clearly cares about people, places, homes, and jobs because the details fill the Book.

The temptation is to think that in the grand scheme, you don’t matter much. You didn’t win a medal or make history. But let me assure you, dear reader, you haven’t escaped God’s attention, fortunately. Sure, there is an unnerving aspect of an all knowing God, especially if you are hiding something. Jesus said, “There is nothing concealed that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known” (Matt. 10:26). Jesus knows your past, too. When Nathanael asked how Jesus knew so much about him, He answered, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you” (John 1:48).

But there is a more profound level of knowing, beyond concealed things and fig trees. We see this when Jesus warned He would tell certain posers, “I never knew you; depart from me” (Matt. 7:23). Love makes the difference with this kind of knowing. “If anyone loves God, he is known by Him” (1 Cor. 8:3). Loving God begins with accepting the truth about Jesus Christ, who loved you first despite your (ahem) details.

So be glad that God knows you. The Bible says, “Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him” (Matt. 6:8). When you sacrifice and serve, “Your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you” (Matt. 6:4). To you, He has revealed Himself as Immanuel, or “God with us.” You may never receive a medal of honor or write your name in history, but if the God of the universe loves you, knows you, and is with you, then you matter.