Gettysburg, PA is a place I have long wanted to visit, and this past August, I finally got the chance! I had the privilege of attending a curriculum training for my job that was held a few mere miles from the Gettysburg National Military Park. After the training session, my family and I headed straight to the Visitor Center and Museum only to find that it had just closed! (An organized person would have checked the Hours of Operation before driving there. Clearly, I am not that person.)

Just as we were about to leave, a friendly family from Ohio asked me to take their picture. As we chatted, I shared with them how we had been too late to get into the museum but planned to return the next day. The mom quickly exclaimed, “The battlefield is open until sunset! You can drive right through.” One of her sons then added that there was no more perfect time to see the battlefield than at sunset.

He wasn’t kidding! What we experienced was beautiful beyond description. I’ll let a few of the photos I took do the talking. I’m not much of a photographer, and capturing the true magnificence of this consecrated ground wasn’t possible, but at least you can get the idea.

I took several more photos each time we stopped to walk around and read the accounts of each site’s significance. Surrounded by stillness and breathtaking beauty, I was overcome with the incongruity of the past turmoil and present peace of the battlefield whose soil once absorbed the blood of over 51, 000 fallen soldiers and was littered with their remains. The deadliest battle, claiming the most lives of the entire five-Aprils scope of the Civil War, had taken place right here in this majestically serene setting.

Processing the magnitude of such a scene isn’t easy. My heart ached with sorrow and swelled with gratitude simultaneously for the sacrifice and bravery of the soldiers. John 15:13 resounded: “Greater love hath no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.”

I was meditating on this long after we left that night and carried my thoughts with me to the museum the following day. I think that’s why I stopped abruptly in my tracks when I saw the following quote on one of the wall displays:

“Every name…is like a lightning stroke, and breaks like thunder over some home, and falls a long black shadow upon some hearthstone.”

Suddenly, the sense of loss I felt hit me in a way that I hadn’t yet processed. Instead of envisioning the multitude of soldiers slain on the battlefield, I saw one family—a family that would never, ever be the same again.

For each soldier’s family, the loss of that one life was deeply personal and utterly immeasurable. I can relate to that kind of loss. Maybe you can, too.

For every shattered soul who heard the news that a fallen soldier was one of their own kin, a fresh battle began— one they would fight for the rest of their lives. They would contend with the indescribable emptiness that follows loss. Such devastation causes figurative battlefields to emerge instantly, taking the form of hearts, minds, and homes.

As much as the weight of contemplating the loss of so many lives was heavy on me as I stood on the Gettysburg battlefield, that moment in the museum really hit home. They were sons, fathers, brothers, husbands, and friends whose absence would irrevocably change their families’ lives.

While I admire these soldiers corporately because of what they did, they were loved by their families individually, simply because of who they were.

The contrast is significant and raises a valid question in my mind: How do I measure my life’s worth?

I have often battled with nagging feelings of insignificance and inadequacy. I have estimated my value by looking at the attributes and accomplishments of others and found myself lacking. However, I have learned (and am still learning) that the high cost of striving to “be somebody” and “do something” is my joy, and it’s not worth it!

How about you? How do you measure your worth?

Do you want to be loved for what you do or simply for who you are? Does being admired or “loved” generally by strangers or acquaintances because of your great deeds, good looks, sense of style, etc. even remotely compare with the gift of being dearly loved by those who really know you?

I think we all ultimately want to be known— not by the masses— but by the precious people to whom our name would be a lightning stroke should we ever depart. We want to be authentically loved just for who we are by those who know us best.

As I was processing this in the museum, I found a moment of comfort in the thought that these soldiers who gave their lives were treasured by their families and honored by their country. Their lives had value and purpose.

That’s when a strain of unsettling realization rushed in: What about all the soldiers whose graves are marked UNKNOWN?!

It grieved me to think that their names never passed over someone’s lips to family members or friends who could properly honor them with their tears and carry on their legacy. They paid the ultimate price, and no one in the world would ever know their identities.

Was their sacrifice any less significant than those who had been properly mourned by their loved ones? Would their bravery be more impressive if they were buried with their names known to all who walk through the cemetery to honor them?

Of course not! So why did it upset me?

I’d simply forgotten, as I often do, a vital and transformative truth:

There is no such thing as being unknown.

The world may never know their names, but for every soldier’s grave marked UNKNOWN, a life that was fully known by God is recognized. Those soldiers were “fearfully and wonderfully made”¹ by the Creator of Heaven and Earth; He saw every single moment of their lives. He knew every detail of their stories, including their names.

And He knows mine. And He knows yours.

You might battle with feeling like you are not important because you haven’t done something spectacular with your life that made the world know your name, or because you haven’t achieved what you thought you would by your age. Or, you might feel terribly alone, like no one cares about you and would not notice if you were not here.

Those thoughts are lies! Please remember the immeasurable value you possess and NEVER let yourself be convinced that you are anything less than a masterpiece created in the image of God. Your life matters!

True joy fills my heart when I reflect on the truth that I am loved and known by “the God who sees me” (Genesis 16:13). Despite what I feel when I’m combating lies on the battlefield of my mind, I can know my life is valuable no matter what I do and do not achieve. I have inherent worth, bestowed on me by my Maker, and so do you!

You never have been, and never will be, UNKNOWN.

_{¹ Psalm 139:14: “I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”}