I am a believer that we have a Creator that makes beauty out of ashes. He takes broken things and makes them new. He takes that which we deem as “beyond repair,” and He recrafts, recreates and repurposes it.
I know this to be true, as He did it with me. Once broken and covered in stains so deep they went nearly to the bone, I fell before Him begging and pleading and asking to be forgiven and remade. Ashamed and defeated and feeling worthless, I cried out. Even the creatures crawling on their bellies on the earth were higher.
Crushed nearly to dust, I came. With nothing but hope for what He might do, I came. Knowing there was no way left but through Him, I came. Clinging to His promise, I came.
“And the God of all grace, who called me to his eternal glory in Christ, after I had suffered a little while, did himself restore me and make me strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever.” 1 Peter 5:10-11
It wasn’t overnight, as restoration can take awhile. But slowly, bit by broken bit, He gathered me up. Like a master puzzle worker thoughtfully flipping over each piece, edge pieces here; corner pieces there, He worked.
What He made, the beauty He made out of the ash that was left of my life, there are no words! Gently He lifted me, often with the hands of His people. People that would be proof of His abundance and His lavish love for me. Support from behind, love from the left and right, He brought the people that would help me see the new creature He had crafted. A creature that was shiny and new and worthy of love.
And my scars, oh the beauty of my scars. They are proof that I am mended. Like a badge, I wear them. Like an accessory that brings attention to the place we want people to focus on, I let them show. Because how else will people come to know the handiwork of the Father? How else will they see what beautiful things He can do with nothing but ash?