It snowed today. Living in Alaska, I am quite used to this happening...in fact, I love it. But this now was different because it was long-awaited. Ice had clenched its dark, cold fingers into the earth. The snow that had previously fallen was long gone, turning the outside world into a scene of frozen ground, lifeless-looking trees, and dirty roads. It all looked so bare. So dark. Just like my heart: deep, cold, dark.
But then the snow came. Fresh. Pure. New. Each flake an intricate work of beauty, coming together to form a blanket of beautiful whiteness. The parts making whole. Like a stained glass window. Like me.
I marveled at how clean the world looked. The frozen earth was covered - the ice now buried. It was hope. It was Divine. It was a picture of my life - life then, life now.
Once, I resembled the ice. Now, I am washed clean as the snow (Psalm 51:7; Isaiah 1:18). Since the day when I first dared to go and open the door of my heart, since that time when I desperately pleaded with God to wake me from my spiritual slumber, to lead me out of the darkness from which I could not free myself - since that holy moment when I watched my stage transform into an altar, my life into a cathedral of worship - all has become grace. Life has been given purpose. Beautiful meaning. Every fleeting hour has become full of sixty incredible minutes to experience God, to search and know my discovered wholeness. Wholeness that transcends a broken world. My broken world.
As the snow has transformed the world outside into a glistening wonder, so my life has been changed, allowed to touch and sense the eternal. Authentic richness filling each day - this is what I long for. This is my new reality.
Each word that I speak, hand that I grasp, hug that I give - I want to communicate life. Beautiful life. Full life. God-breathed life. This is the work of a heavenly masterpiece - a life once broken, healed now being given the power to heal. The ability to touch brokenness and breathe grace, to make well.
The sun is trying to peak through the grey of the clouds, to break through, to warm. The mountain stands in the way. So I often stand in the way of God, darkness fighting to cloud a view of Him. And yet, the light grows brighter. It will break open the sky, and sparkles will kiss the freshly-fallen snow. So, too, will the Light of the World - those rays of hope everlasting - find a way to get through to me, to keep the worship coming, the darkness at bay. I need the Light desperately. Just as much as I did at the first - perhaps even more. Even though I made the choice to let it come in, to let it become more than rays, shafts of light, I need to be consumed by it. Wrapped in it. Lost in it. Because the stronger it is, the less I am tempted to drift toward the life I once had...which was really no life at all... To go back. To shut the door of my heart again.
As the snow is white, so I want to be transparent. Vulnerable. Open door all the way. I want my badness - the remains of my former brokenness - to be swallowed up in the goodness of the God who loves me. Who forgives each mistake, every failing. True acceptance. True grace.
I want to live fully. To be beautifully alive. To worship. To daily deny and follow. To surrender. Completely surrender.
The story isn't finished being written yet. There is still so much more to come. And yet, the "agony of an untold story" - my story - is gone. Because there's nothing to hide anymore. No shame. No darkness. Just light. All Light.
I know I'm bound to forget at times. To try to grab hold again - to control that which I think belongs to me. I'm human. Fallen in every way. Yet redeemed. Redeemed to the fullest. Restored. Resurrected to new life. Dead, now alive. Abundantly alive.
My journey to grace isn't over. I know yours isn't either. New life awaits. And it is beautiful in every way. Christ stands at the door of our hearts and knocks. Are we pushing furniture in front of the door and saying,
'I will not admit the man?'
Or are we on our knees, rejoicing to receive our Guest? Jesus promises that, if we hear His voice, if we open the door, He will come in and eat with us (Revelation 3:20). Feasting on the riches of eternal goodness. Daily supply of grace unlimited. Worship. Forever fellowshipping in His presence.
I pray that for my life. Because I need it. I need Him. Just Him. Him in all His fullness. Authentic, daring faith to the max. Believing every moment. Every day...
This is life outside the door. Life after snowfall. Light in the darkness. I am His reflection, the mirror of His image. His light shines through my pieces - broken parts beginning to be made whole. I want it to be that way always. To never end...the repairing. To go on singing His grace until I go to my grave. Capturing each glimpse of the Divine. Each ray of light reflecting in my own.
Whatever our story may be, we must be filled with God. We must see our need. We must embrace His life. In losing, we shall obtain (Matthew 10:39). In seeking, we shall find (Jeremiah 29:11). Life comes when we open the door. The door to joy. The door to wholeness. To everything beautiful. Because, for all that is complicated about our world, about ourselves even, it's really quite simple when we see it in the Light. Through the eyes of our Creator. Our Savior. And here it is - pure, white, fresh:
"Once your eyes are opened to your need, it is difficult
to live as though you had none. It is as if a door has been
opened that can't be shut." *
My need - your need - is the same. It's time we open our eyes. We'll be amazed at what we see - at Who we see. The Light is creeping around the mountain, shining into the darkness. Flakes - parts - have come together in His unity. Hope has come to a broken world. Our souls long for it. God offers it. And, in bowing before the altar...before Him...we find it.