Strange Mercies
The other day, I was flipping through an old journal and came across a poem I had written during the second year after my world fell apart and I lost my license. I was just beginning to put the pieces of my life back together, and I had gained enough perspective to look back and recognize the hand of God in the midst of the mess.
Of course, I had felt His hand all along—not only holding the scalpel as He removed what no longer served me, but also holding me together as I navigated the pain and gathered the pieces of my brokenness. In some ways, I was closer to Him than I had ever been, even as I experienced the deepest devastation of my life.
The Christian walk is a conundrum of ugly and beautiful, a kind of mixed media—a paradox of living in the now and the not yet.
“Behold, He is making all things new” (Rev. 21:5), and yet, “all creation groans” (Rom. 8:22). One day, we will be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. There will be no more tears in Heaven, when all things are fully restored. And yet, even now, He draws near to wipe our tears as we grieve the reality of our own sinfulness and brokenness.
He loves us too much to leave us where we are. In His hands, even our deepest pain can become part of a story of redemption, shaped for our good and His glory.
You are not alone.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. —Psalm 34:18
As I cried, yelled, and did the hard work of healing, He gathered the broken shards of my life, rearranged the colors into an entirely new picture, and shone His light through every piece to create a masterpiece of beauty.
Here is the poem I wrote during that season, titled “Strange Mercies.”
Strange mercies, these.
That to be made new I must be
completely
un-done.
To see myself broken,
a thousand shards of glass
scattered on the ground.
To see the knife drawn,
my guts splayed on the table.
Is it really necessary
to have everything inside laid bare?
Was it really so bad
to need such deep incision,
such grave injury and exorcism?
Strange mercies.
That I must come to the end of myself
to find you.
That I must be completely emptied out
to be filled.
That I must go through death
to find Your Resurrection.
That through blood
and sweat
and tears,
through groaning
and pushing
and tearing
I am born into new life.
Strange mercies, these.
That as we embrace our suffering,
we are, in turn, embraced
and enter into Your Glory.
Strange mercies.
To see
that pain can be a gift
like all the others.
Maybe you are still in the middle of your mess. Maybe you are just beginning to emerge on the other side. Or perhaps you are enjoying a season of reprieve. Wherever you find yourself, know that He is with you, and He is still at work—reshaping you and drawing you ever deeper into Himself.
Day by day, we are being transformed more and more into His image.
And we all, with unveiled face, continually seeing as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are progressively being transformed into His image from one degree of glory to even more glory, which comes from the Lord, the Spirit. —2 Corinthians 3:18 (AMP)
So lean in, and don't be afraid of the mess. God is not afraid to get His hands dirty! After all, He formed us from the dust of the earth, and He used spit and dirt to restore sight to a blind man. He is the potter. Lean in, and let yourself be molded by His gentle hands.
He is in it with you, and He is able to bring beauty from your broken pieces. No matter how messy your life may feel, He sees you through the eyes of Love.
You are deeply loved, and you are beautiful.
Can you see The Potter and The Artist at work in your own story? Where have you experienced unexpected provision, found comfort in the midst of hardship, or sensed His presence in a particularly meaningful way?
My prayer is that, even in the midst of the hard and the messy, we might find room in our hearts to be grateful for His strange mercies.
God bless you, my friend.
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