Paint from the Ashes

I know a master painter.  He dips His brush into all the broken and creates pure masterpiece.  I live it.  I watch it unfold in my life.  I pick up pen, with joyful abandon, attempting to capture my story.  His story, beauty from ashes, written in my life.  

This picture, this woman I barely recognize from who I was.  it's me.  A life redeemed.  A heart restored.  A wife filled with joy that only my Abba could pour in my heart.  into my everyday.  

To know the joy, one must peek into the pain.  For the season of ashes allows the beauty to blossom.  To share my story is never to forget where He found me, but refused to let me stay.  Sharing.  Believing.  Someone needs to hear.  To grab onto hope.  To cling to His promises.  And refuse to let go.

From the ash heap.  Abandoned.  Divorced.  Forgotten.  Insert your own words, your own pain seared into your you.  My God found me, drenched me in His love.  He does the same for all of us.  My story is yours.  

a heart abandoned, searching for value when her world splintered into shards.  My Abba sheltered my heart, washed it in His Word, healed it through his unconditional love.

the curled up woman on the floor of the closet, exhausted from the tears, grieving a marriage and a man I adored.  My God held me, reminding me through His promises who I really am, refusing to ever let me go.  

a single mom, never wanting or dreaming of this life, weary from the daily and the stress.  My God wrapped me in rest and held me when I couldn't stand on my own.  even when I fought him.  hard.  

All that the enemy stole, my God restored.  All the painful broken, my Abba healed.  Not in my way, but His.    His way ...

"to bestow on them a crown of beauty, instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead a spirit of despair."  - Isaiah 61:3

Master painter, paint from the ashes.  Your kind of beauty.