Introduction

Friend, pull up a chair and take a deep breath. If your week felt like spilled cereal, missing socks, and schedules that didn’t stick, you’re in good company. If you’re a mom who has whispered prayers in the pantry, a grandmother who still carries names in a worn-out prayer journal, a woman whose arms ache for the child not yet here or the child now with Jesus, or a man who learned Christlike care from a faithful mother or spiritual mentor—there’s room for you at the table today. God has a word for tired hearts and busy hands: you are seen, you are shaped on purpose, and you are sent with purpose.

We live in a world that measures worth with mirrors and metrics, likes and labels. But the Lord stitches worth into your story with His own hands. When you look in the mirror and see only fatigue, He sees wonder. When you feel ordinary, He sings over you as His workmanship. Every freckle, every fingerprint, every fiercely faithful act of care—these are not footnotes; they are features of God’s design.

Tim Keller put it like this: “The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.” (Tim Keller)

That is the melody behind our message today. God fashioned you with intention. Your body is not an afterthought, and your daily calling—yes, including the diaper-changing, meal-making, carpool-caring, tear-wiping, test-prepping, and prayer-whispering—is holy. Motherhood is not a mistake of the mundane; it is a ministry in motion. And for all who nurture life in others—teachers, mentors, neighbors, aunties, uncles, friends—the Lord uses your care as a canvas for His kindness.

Maybe you wonder, Can God really use my small yes? The Shepherd thinks your small yes is the very ground in which He grows His great work. Perhaps you carry the quiet weight of comparison. Can I tell you something tender? Comparison is a thief, but Christ is a Giver. He hands you grace like fresh bread for today. He is not grading you; He is guiding you.

Let’s bring our hearts under the words that outlast our worries. Here is the Scripture that sets our table today:

Psalm 139:14 (KJV) “I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.”

Fearfully. Wonderfully. Not flimsy, not forgotten—fashioned. The psalmist doesn’t just nod at God’s handiwork; he sings. And that song isn’t wishful thinking. It’s worship anchored in the character of a Creator who wastes nothing—no season, no scar, no unseen sacrifice.

So, if your soul feels faint, if your story feels scattered, bring it close. The God who formed you knows how to speak life to the weary parts. He will show you how your identity in Him steadies your steps, how your body is a gift entrusted to grace, and how motherhood—spiritual and physical—is holy work that rings with eternal resonance.

Let’s pray.

Father, Maker of heaven and the one who knit us together with care, we come with hearts that hurry and hands that are full. Slow us to Your pace. Speak over us the truth You sang over us in the womb: fearfully and wonderfully made. Where shame has stuck, wash us with the love of Jesus. Where comparison has stolen joy, restore delight in Your design. Bless every mother and every nurturer here—those with children in their homes, those with children in their hearts, and those who mother spiritual sons and daughters in the church and community. Strengthen weary bodies, steady anxious minds, and soften sorrow with the comfort of Your Spirit. As we listen today, let us hear Your voice above all others. Teach us to receive our calling with courage, to treat our bodies with honor, and to embrace the daily tasks of care as holy ground. We ask this in the strong and gentle name of Jesus. Amen.

Identity Rooted in the God Who Formed You

Identity begins with God’s hands. Before a title. Before a role. Before a win or a wound. Your life came from His care. That truth steadies the heart. It quiets the noise that tries to tell you who you are.

This changes how we speak to ourselves. Many of us carry harsh words inside. We call ourselves names we would never say to a friend. The Maker does not use that tone. He crafts with kindness. He names with love. Let His voice set the volume. Let His words carry the most weight.

This also changes how we carry our bodies. Your body is part of God’s good work. It is the place where you love your people. It is the place where you pray, sing, and serve. Rest can be worship. Food can be care. Boundaries can be holy. Shame does not heal. Gentleness and truth do.

It changes how we see calling. The Lord writes purpose into ordinary days. Care looks small to crowds. Care is large to heaven. Teaching a child, tending a parent, showing up for a friend, serving your church, doing your job with honesty, these are real offerings. Meaning rises in the middle of these tasks, because God is there.

It changes how we hold change. Seasons shift. Jobs come and go. Children grow. Health can wobble. The Lord remains. He stays the same when life moves. Your name in His heart is steady. You can breathe in that.

It changes how we see other people. Every person you meet bears the mark of the Maker. Words can build them or break them. We choose to build. We bless with our eyes, our hands, and our speech. We make room at the table. We refuse to make people projects. We honor them as God’s work.

“I will praise you.” That is the first move in the verse. Praise is not a mood. Praise is a choice to agree with God about God. The psalmist does not start with self-talk. He starts with worship. When we worship, we put the spotlight where it belongs. The heart lifts its face. Anxiety often shrinks when God’s greatness fills the frame. This shapes the day. You can praise while folding clothes. You can praise while driving. You can praise when your plan falls apart. Gratitude is part of praise. Not forced cheer. Honest thanks for real gifts. Breath in your lungs. A Savior who loves. Mercy that met you this morning. Praise keeps the soul from collapsing into itself. It opens the window. Light comes in.

“I am made in a way that stirs awe.” That is what “fearfully” means. Awe belongs in the mirror. We are not talking about vanity. We are talking about reverence for the work of God. The Holy One shaped you with care. Bone and blood. Brain and breath. Personality and story. Some parts you enjoy. Some parts you wish were different. All of it known by God. When awe fills your view, you speak with care about your life. You do not curse what God has formed. You ask Him how to use it. You say, Lord, teach me to carry what You have given me. You guard what harms awe, like cruel comparisons and careless jokes about yourself. You build what feeds awe, like confession, wonder at creation, and slow time with Scripture. Awe is also for others. You look at your child or friend and say with your eyes, you are worth care.

“I am made in a way that shows wonder.” That is the heart of “wonderfully.” God’s work is marked by creativity. No copy-and-paste. You bring a mix that no one else carries. Strengths, limits, joys, scars, skills, and needs. All of that can serve love. You do not have to carry every gift. You get to carry the gifts God placed in you. This frees you from chasing every lane. It also frees you to ask for help. Wonder shows up when gifts meet gaps in community. Your kindness meets another’s wisdom. Your patience meets another’s courage. Together it makes beauty. Receive your design as assignment. Steward it. Practice what you have been given. Sharpen it. Offer it. When you make room for wonder, you can bless a teen who doubts her value. You can bless a tired dad who thinks he is only a paycheck. You can bless a teacher who feels unseen. You can bless your own heart when shame rises.

“Your works are remarkable, and my soul knows it deep down.” That last line moves from head to heart. Truth must sink. We need more than facts. We need agreement inside. That takes time with God. It takes habits. Read the Word out loud. Put a short verse where you will see it. Say it in the morning and at night. Ask a friend to remind you when you forget. Teach your children to say it to themselves. Sing it in church like you mean it. When lies rise, answer with truth. When shame speaks, answer with grace and light. Let the Spirit press this into the places that feel numb. Over time the heart learns a new way. The soul starts to recognize God’s voice like a familiar song. Then, when the day throws you off, the truth still holds. You can say, I know this. I know it in my bones. God’s work in me is real. His hand on me is kind.

This truth reaches into pain as well. Some carry loss. Some carry illness. Some carry memories that sting. God does not toss aside those who hurt. He draws near. He keeps company. He works in the dark as well as in the light. He can make meaning in places we do not expect. We can bring Him tears without shame. We can bring questions without fear. He meets us with mercy.

It reaches into parenting. Children watch how we see ourselves. If we only scold our bodies, they learn to scold theirs. If we give thanks for the good work of God in our frame, they learn to give thanks for theirs. If we honor our limits, they learn that limits are human and wise. If we own mistakes and seek forgiveness, they learn how grace moves. This is discipleship in the kitchen, in the car, and by the bed at night.

It reaches into friendships and church life. Speak life over each other. Name gifts you see. Call out courage. Guard against words that reduce a person to a role or a season. Make space for both laughter and lament. That kind of community helps truth stick.

It even shapes work. Your labor is more than output. It is part of your worship. Do it with integrity. Do it with care. Ask the Spirit to set your pace. Ask for wisdom to say yes and to say no. Let your worth sit in God’s hands, not in a performance chart.

It shapes rest. Sleep can be an act of trust. Sabbath can be a protest against grind and hurry. When you stop, the world keeps spinning. God runs it. You do not have to. That frees the mind. That brings peace to the body.

Let this truth sit close. Let it be the first word in the morning. Let it be the steady word at noon. Let it be the last word at night. God formed you with care. His care still holds you now.

Your Body and Calling Are Wonderfully Made

Psalm 139:14 gives steady words for how you live in a body and carry a task in the world ... View this full PRO sermon free with PRO