Beauty in Pain

A seed pops up from its damp dark bed to burst into a fanning flower. 

A child breaks a working arm only to learn the fruit of patience. 

A cancer patient wastes through chemo and learns the frailty of life. 

She seizes each free moment and savours the juice out of it. 

An orphan mourns his father then feels the arms of the Father above.

A snake writhes out of its tight skin into a brand new mantle.

An adolescent endures a creaking voice only to gain a stronger one.

A construction zone frustrates for months and then reveals solid pavement. 

We were born through pain, we live with pain, and often we die with pain. 

The Maker of Life loves beauty. He created leafy trees with delicate veins and petioles, pores to breathe carbon dioxide and the ability to emit life for us in the form of oxygen. He took flowers and arrayed them in a rainbow of colour. He created birds with delicate feathers, a variety of beaks, and a unique skeletal system. He makes humans, (Have you ever thought how much fun that must be?) with curved noses, an intricate respiratory system, strangely angled legs and arms, necks that come in a variety of sizes on the circumference scale, and eyes that cover a web of beautiful violets, chocolate browns, aqua blues, emerald greens, and slate grays. Truly, our Creator does have an artistic touch and taste. 

But He allows pain and we suffer and scream. Silently... and sometimes out loud. We cry because we want to be better and pout because we don't receive the best. Life becomes a spot of misery and heartache instead of the beautiful journey we wished it to be. We cry for answers and hear echoes in a silent sky.

And yet, our Maker does not delight in hurting us. In fact, it is not His fault that we're dealing with the consequences of sin and living wretched lives. But He loves to heal and save and make the wounded whole. He loves to take the broken and make it new. 

And sometimes that looks different than we think it should. Instead of taking the pain away, He brings the gift of patience and reliance on Him. Instead of removing the frustration, He turns our gaze upward to His enablement. He uses the trials destined to kill us to bring us life. The very things that hurt and ache bring beauty in their completion. And as we sing with tears running down our faces, lift up hands when our heads are hanging low, question God when nothing makes sense, and try in vain to figure out a purpose in a complicated situation, we come to a deeper essence of God than we ever have before.

The Weaver 

My life is but a weaving

Between my Lord and me.

I cannot choose the colours

He weaves so steadily.

Oft times He weaveth sorrow

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I the underside.

Not till the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly

Will God roll back the canvas

And explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful 

In the Weaver's skillful hands

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned.

                                  -B.M. Franklin

Weeping endures for a season but joy comes in the morning.

Take time to smell the roses. They grew among the thorns. 🩷