One more from the plane ride home…
Just moments after the sun bursts through, the sky turns pink. Like a splattering of paint. Or a twist of tye-dye. It’s unexpected. And beautiful.
When rain meets sun. When pain meets grace. When He shouts to my soul above the hum of the plane engine-“I am God. See what I make with my words. See what happens when hurts collides with love. Masterpieces.”
And I declare myself, this trip to Texas, a failed masterpiece. Redeemed because of Who He is. And how He speaks. And the way He keeps communing with this heart that wants to give up on Him.
He paints. With His blood, sweat, and tears. Masterpieces in pain. Declaring “It is finished” when the journey seems so long.
So I look at the pink. Hand Him the paintbrush one more time. And say “Your will be done.”
“…to grant to those who mourn in Zion—to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.” (Isaiah 61:3)