“To bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes…” (Is 61:3)
Did you ever have a day where you had all these emotions piled up so high inside you, that you exploded at the next person to cross your path? Well, some people wouldn’t admit that, but I am more than happy to discuss it, because it is in times like this I do the most growing and purging. It’s just that old yucky dross coming to the surface. Bring it on! Let’s skim it off the top, so God can let my little light shine.
I had asked my friend Mary to help me with a project on the computer, and it felt like she was never going to get around to it. She had put it off for several weeks, and I had a deadline to meet, and patience is definitely not one of my virtues. She explained to me she was waiting on the Lord, that He would provide the perfect time to do this. I guess my faith was at low tide, because I just didn’t believe God would come through. So finally one day I snapped, so much so, that I feared the men in white coats would come any moment.
I decided to just do the job myself. I sat down at the computer, and in two minutes time I realized I didn’t know what the heck I was doing. God was watching the whole miserable scene. And now He crossed His arms and said “Too bad. You didn’t have the faith to believe in Me for it, so now My hands are tied. I couldn’t help you now even if I wanted to. It is only with faith that all things are possible.”
Then it became a battle of the wills. It was either His will or mine, and I can be pretty darn stubborn. Angry words were aimed and shot. Problem was, the bullets I was shooting off went right through Mary’s heart. No! Mary! My war is against God, not you – you were just caught in the crossfire. Aw, who was I trying to kid, the only person I really wanted to take out was me. Too late…
Too late to say I’m sorry. Too late to take the bullets back. Too late, because there is a price to pay for unbelief, and this is the price: no matter that Mary and God forgave me in a heartbeat, I will never be able to forgive myself. For all the bullets I fired off, the wounds of their destruction have left a wake of agony in my heart. They caused a searing burnish of which I know no cure.
Even if I were to travel the ends of the earth, where could I go in my search of the healing balm to soothe my burns and scars? It cannot be found by climbing the highest mountain, or swimming the raging sea. Even if I could propel myself to the high heavens, even there this Holy balm could not be grasped or understood.
So I carry my wounds like a faithless soldier. And when this destitute soldier falls to her knees at the foot of the cross, therein lies the healing. Only to utter “Father, forgive me, for I know not what I do!” And I reach out my hands to touch His own nail scarred hands, and I take my heart, heavy with shame, and I lay it before Him. It is then that He turns His back on me. “Ah, sovereign Lord, yes! Look away from me, for I am unworthy to stand before You.”
But as I start lifting my eyes from the earth beneath my feet up to where Jesus is standing, I see the marks on His back where the whip of human frailties and flaws has unleashed its fury. And what is that deep stripe that looks like a burn mark, with the smoke rising above it, as if a bullet has just now been deeply embedded into His flesh? I reach up my hand to touch my own battle scar, overwhelmed because He must be showing me that He carries the same wounds I do, that we are fellow comrades in this war. That is so beautiful, so poetic…. but no! My scar has been healed, it is no longer there, but on His back alongside all the other scars He carries. He who bore my sins, and healed my diseases is still waiting…He holds out those beautiful willing hands to me, and lifts me to my feet. “Give it all to Me.” He says. “Give it to Me, and even this I will carry for you. For all of your ashes, I give you all of My beauty.”
