Beauty from Ashes

I remember how much I loved my baby doll when I was little. Now I wasn't always so careful with her. Sometimes I'd go for months without playing with her. Sometimes I would leave her out for my brother, Spencer, to get a hold of her. But when I was playing pretend with her, she was real to me. She had feelings. I would let her sleep on my pillow, and I'd scoot to the edge of my bed to keep from rolling over on her. I would hold her so carefully in my arms. I named her Ruth after my favorite Bible character. I would tell her I'm sorry for letting Spencer squish her plastic face. I wanted things to be perfect. Yet I knew, even then, that something was wrong. I knew that when I got bored with the game, I'd toss her aside again. I knew that I'd leave her somewhere or that Spencer would draw on her or that she would fall behind the bed, and that I would not be able to stop it all from happening. So I loved her dearly and all-the-more when I played pretend because I knew it was pretend. It wouldn't last.

When I look at life, I feel much of the same bitter sweet ache. I look at my family and my friends. I look at myself and my hopes. It's a crushing thought when you see that everything is broken. It's all broken. None of it is right. Not quite. Sometimes, not at all. I think about the times I'd look at my doll remorsefully, wanting to keep things perfect like how they were in my pretend world--where I'd rock her and imagine silly stories of her playing football when she got older--but knowing that it all just wasn't so.

I want to protect those I love from the evils of this world. Yet I look around and see that not only does it pour in from every electronic screen and speaker, it also comes from the mouths of friends and family. It comes from my very own choices and actions. It comes from our own mothers and fathers. It's devastating. I think, "Oh God, it is not supposed to be like this! It's all gotten so messed up!"
What am I talking about?
The hate that pours in from each association or political group that just cannot allow room for justice or grace.
The people who lie to your face, make you feel some fake version of love, then steal it away right when you chose to believe in it.
The parents who promise their children that forever means forever, then decide like temperamental adolescents to follow paths of destruction.
The children who mock their history and undercut their parents.
The fathers who fail to be fathers, and the mothers who fail to be mothers.
The husbands who fail to be husbands, and the wives who fail to be wives.
The dreams that hover overhead like clouds and, every time you get close, evaporate into a mist.
The sicknesses and diseases that rip through the lives of families and friends like unforeseen natural disasters.
The natural disasters that redefine livelihoods.
The friends that build you up and tear you down.
The people you know best who turn out to be strangers.
The people who kill intentionally with malice at heart.
The people who kill ignorantly with convenience at heart.
The people who let evil live, with both intention and with ignorance!
The lives, all the lives we've lost.
The love that was supposed to be waiting at the other end of hardship.
The stupidity of so-called leaders.
The weakness of so-called followers.
And oh the deceit, frailty, and wickedness that spawns in my own heart.

I look at this broken, starving world aching for truth and love and hope and I cry, "Oh God! It's broken! We've messed it up, God! It's just not supposed to be like this!"

It hurts. And I weep, not just for the burden I carry, but for the burdens I cannot take away from others.

But then, redemption.

His grace covers all. It washes the dirtied hands of criminals. It cleanses the residue upon our tear-stained cheeks. It lifts our heads. It sounds triumphantly in a newborn's laugh. It shakes the earth when a faithful man kisses his wife on her head. It echoes proudly when one man takes care of another man's meal before serving himself. So resplendent is His grace when someone looks to their friend and asks for forgiveness. It rattles the gates of hell when truth is fought for, despite the cost. How good is our God who sustains us?

Weakness taunts us. But God redeems the weak, so that He may be praised. Stupidity trips us up. But God heals the broken after they fall, so they can be better prepared to lead. Loved ones lie to us. But God offers discernment to lead us to the truth, so that we may better know that the truth has been tested and not found wanting. Things fall apart. But God rebuilds you in the ashes of disaster. He strengthens you. He adds new armor to your suit after every weak spot is discovered. He builds you up so that His kingdom can be built up. He builds you up so that true beauty can be brought forth. We are the beauty from the ashes. Always. His grace is sufficient.

Now it's true. Nothing is right. That bitter sweet ache I would get when playing pretend with my baby doll remains with me as I imagine the futures of my youngest siblings or the lot of generations even further down the line. Yet His grace is sufficient. And while we may just be doing what we can to create our own versions of home here on earth, there will be a day when perfection comes and the imperfect will disappear. His grace was poured out, and justice is not far behind. So let us continue to seek truth, both in word and deed. Let us fight for justice, no matter the cost. Let us accept the waves of His mercy, for His grace is enough.