The Lord has promised good to me. He has promised, and yet sometimes I feel so… so disappointed.
My story, the story of grace and forgiveness and hope? It’s not the story I imagined. I struggle to accept the wearisome battles I am facing. I wrestle with the painful realities that have replaced some of my dreams. Is that the point; reach the point of giving up? Perhaps only in my giving up, He will make something beautiful of my story. I am weary. So weary. Searing tears have brought me begging, “please take this, carry it for me because it’s too heavy right now.”
Will He gather the sharp fringes of my story, until I can bear this chapter? My desperation to see the beauty woven with these threads runs deep. I want to believe there is loveliness beneath the turmoil. I want to see that the salty burn of tears has watered to life something magnificent, and that the conclusion of my story will be something to cheer about.
I know He knows the story of every tear, and even in the deep raggedness of these chapters, I have not walked alone. I’ve seen joy and I’ve seen pain, and oh my weakened soul may you not forget the mountains you have stood on! It is so easy for me to see the darkness swallow the light in the epicenter of my brokenness, but hasn’t He promised:
Have you ever seen the back of a piece of cross-stitching? It is messy! Messy and confusing and not pretty to look at. But the front of the piece? It’s beautiful, every stitch placed perfectly. Without that messy back story, that work of art wouldn’t exist. I hope that will be true of my story; disheveled magnificence.
How do you find peace in the difficult pages of your life?