Four days ago, I visited a modeling agency as part of a casting call for a television commercial. I was told they were looking for chinito-looking men to play a dad. I figured, hey, I’m chinito, and I’m a dad, nothing to lose, right?

Well, I lost. Or at least, I think I lost.

The minute I stepped through those doors, I knew I was in for a rough time. I promised myself I’d walk in and be friendly and confident, and I was. It’s just that the male receptionist looked me up and down with this look of disdain on his face, and when the female receptionist came in, she spoke to me as if I were the last person on Earth who would get this job. (Which I probably was.)

Well, regardless, I was there, so I decided to push through with it. The lady receptionist called me into this room - she actually just said my name out loud, without really coming to get me - where she would shoot my VTR. After a few questions, she took the full shots, and I knew my prospects weren’t good when she panned the full-body shot and smirked. They had tons of beautiful people working there; I was some Joe off the street who thought he had what it took to at least play a role he essayed daily in real life.

I was determined to walk out of there with dignity, which I did. After I exited the agency, I walked to my car and comforted myself with the thought that while I may never be a star in the media sense of the word, I was a star to God. God told me in Jeremiah, “before I formed you in the womb I knew you; before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you a prophet to the nations” (Jer 1:5).

God knew me well before this receptionist, before Cathy, before I knew myself. I am important to Him, and I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I may not meet the standards of these commercial makers, but in the eyes of God, I am a star.

God, You’re awesome. Thanks for loving me. You rock my world, Lord, yeah, You do.

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