It’s not going to be perfect and it may not seem beautiful from a distance but look close, closer still. Get right up against it and breathe deep. You’ll smell the fumes but it will be an aroma of grace.
Notice the details and the carefully chosen words that hold a welcome. Admire the simple beauty and the honest portrayal of the mess.
Sit so close you can see the brushstrokes one by one and pay attention to how they seem insignificant, but now take a step back and look at the big picture, the masterpiece of it all.
Isn’t it beautiful, the beauty of the telling, the laughter in the voice, the honesty in the words, the grace in the mess, the courage in the struggle and the joy in the pain?
In all those broken off pieces and the jagged scars in the hurting places, the grace that washes in and washes over as He heals and mends, it changes us and cleanses deep.
But the scars remain.
They tell the story.
They speak of what has happened.
They wear the story of hurt and hard and maybe some ugly, too.
The scars remain and you hear the refrain again and again that hurt people, hurt people and yes it’s true – but free people, free people and so you must play the music and pick up the brush.
You’ve got to roll up your sleeves and open your mouth and sing. And paint. And write. And tell. And love.
Yeah. You’ve got scars. You’ve walked hard roads. But your scars tell the story of battles won and fears conquered, dreams chased and mighty healing.
Oh, those scars tell a story. But what story will they tell? It’s up to you and up to me.
Paint grace.
Speak comfort.
Listen long.
It’s in the telling, in the releasing of your words and your story into this big messy world, that He receives glory and we find freedom.
Tonight I’m joining the community over at Lisa-Jo’s for story-telling and painting wide and vivid and brave.
