Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art

In which God Creates Beauty from My Mistakes

By

a-winter-garden

In this season of hibernation, I think… and my remembrance of things past is not unaccompanied by regret.

Mists of sadness rise. I will not enter them for they might drag me into a quagmire.

No, I will not re-read past chapters. Today’s chapter is being written—Jesus dictating, me writing. Or sometimes, me writing fast, impulsively, selfishly, and Jesus overwriting it with gold-dust, producing beauty from ashes.

* * *

But what can be done with regrets for time past?

I reach for another alliterative word…redemption.

I take my regrets, shattered shards of what could have been beautiful, were I wiser, smarter, holier,

And I pour the iridescent fragments of these regrets into the great outstretched hands of God.

* * *

I think of David. He sees a beautiful married woman bathe on a rooftop, sleeps with her, has her husband killed when she falls pregnant, and then marries her.

The prophet Nathan confronts him with a story which helps him see the shamefulness of it all.

David repents, but sin has consequences, that’s the deep magic from the dawn of time. The unnamed baby dies.

But there is also redemption…the deeper magic from before the dawn of time

Bathsheba conceives again…and that child is Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived, the reputed author of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes.

From that union stained by lust and murder came forth exquisite Psalms and wise Proverbs.

* * *

We undervalue what is precious; we overvalue what is trivial; we waste our time; we squander our energies; we damage treasured relationships; oh yes, and for all these things, we pay the price, yes we do– the inexorably fair law of sowing and reaping.

Fair and merciless.

But a deep hidden mercy runs through this world, like subterranean gold, like purple amethyst, yellow citrine, and smoky quartz hidden in the dead, fossilised trees in Arizona’s petrified forest, trees which fell two hundred million years ago.

Gradually, each cells of bark and wood is replaced with minerals of every colour, as God shapes my shabby paragraphs into the frame, the outline of a glory story.

* * *

God takes the fragments of my faltering hopes, my missed chances, my foolishness,

And says, “Child, from this, even from this, from this glimmering pile of your mistakes, see what I am fashioning.”

And like a medieval craftsman making stained glass, he fashions glory, stained glass, from glinting heaps of errors.

And I see what he is creating from sins and folly, the stuff I never intended.

It is the life I now have, bursting with potential for joy and beauty and worship. It is good. It is very good.

And through tear-stained eyes, I bow my head in worship.

 

 

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Comments

  2. Another moving piece, Anita. Thank you! Instantly, I sensed something from God’s heart, and I felt revived and strengthened.

    “And like a medieval craftsman, he fashions glory, stained glass, from glinting heaps of errors.”

    I’m reminded of an experience a few years ago in art class, when my teacher took my beginner’s efforts and, with a few quick strokes, made them into something astonishingly beautiful, then signed my name to them.

  4. Lyrical. Reminded me of Kevin Prosch’s song? Thought of it while reading this..

    You have taken the precious
    From the worthless and given us
    Beauty for ashes, love for hate
    You have chosen the weak things of the world
    To shame that which is strong, and the foolish things
    To shame the wise.
    You are help to the helpless
    Strength to the stranger
    And a father to the child who’s left alone.
    And the thirsty you’ve invited
    To come to the water
    And those who have no money come and buy…

    So come, So come
    So come, So come

    Oh, the days are coming
    For the Lord has promise
    When the plowman will over take the reaper
    And their hearts will be his threshing floor
    And the move of God we’ve cried out for, will come
    You will shake the heavens, and fill your house will glory
    Turn the shame of the outcast into praise.
    All creation groans and waits
    For the Spirit and the Bride to say
    The words your heart has longed to hear…

    So come, So come
    So come, So come

  5. This was a great Blessing for me today !!! <3 I'm praying for you hoping that today Jesus hugs you and sings to you <3

  6. Dear Anita,
    So good to read your thoughts and see the joy and hope and trust you have in Our Father, Almighty God.
    I’ve missed you and often found myself hugging you with my prayers!
    Grace, peace and joy be always with you,
    Maria Elena