It was time to sell the house.

Those words still catch in my throat when I tell the story. They mark the reality of a season I never imagined for myself — a season of heartbreak and deep grief. After nearly twenty years of marriage, my husband declared he was done, and I found myself sitting in Starbucks, trying to make sense of a life I no longer recognized.

The house wasn’t just a place on a map for me. It was our family home and a symbol of the life I thought I had — a life I fought hard to preserve. Selling it felt like giving up the last shred of what was.

At Starbucks, my sweet friend and realtor sat across from me. Her face was gentle as she looked at me.

“I’m so sorry, Nic. I can’t believe this is happening.”

It’s one of the problems with blindsides and betrayal, isn’t it? The confusion of the reality of things leaves us grappling with a nasty narrative about our worth. About our place in the world. Our value and identity.  

Clutching a latte in one hand and a wad of napkins in the other, I asked the question I dreaded most: How much do you think we should list our home for? My heart pounded in my ears as my friend explained the current market. And then, as though Heaven reached down and tuned me in, I heard her say the words that pierced right through my grief.  

“The value is determined by how much someone is willing to pay for it,” she said.

At that moment, the entire coffee shop melted away. There we sat, just my friend and I, her words lingering in the grief-drenched space between us. “Can you repeat that?” I asked quietly.

She nodded confidently and then proceeded to say, “The value is always determined by the price someone is willing to pay.” 

In a heartbeat — in a divine interception that changed everything — my mind went right to the cross, right to that perfect Man sent to rescue us. Jesus. He paid the ultimate price for us. His arms stretched wide, willing to sacrifice everything. For you. For me.

Right there, in the middle of Starbucks, with my mind turned to the cross, a message from my Father grew loud in my ears:

Your value is determined by what I was willing to pay. 

“For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect.”
1 Peter 1:18-19 NIV

On the cross, Jesus declared our worth in a way nothing else ever could. The God of the universe didn’t send a stand-in or a second-best offering. He gave His very life. That is what we’re worth to Him.

On the heels of the unthinkable in my marriage, I had been accepting hand-me-down messages about my value. I had been viewing myself through the eyes of the man who had walked away instead of through the eyes of the One who never would.

In that moment, God reminded me that our worth is never tied to a house, a marriage, or any earthly thing. Our worth was — and always will be — rooted in Him. Our value isn’t determined by the world or anyone in it. The cross has the final word on you.

So, my friend, if you ever find yourself questioning your worth — if rejection or pain whispers lies to your soul — remember the cross. Remember Jesus, remember the price He paid, remember His history-altering pursuit with you on His mind.

Your value was determined long ago. You are priceless. You are deeply loved — and you are wanted by the One who gave everything just to be with you.

Listen to Nicole’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts.

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