Wednesday, September 21, 2011
I collected many shells on our recent excursion to Langebaan, but the ones I kept feeling my hands being drawn to were these beautiful white ones - the broken ones.
They are exquisitely beautiful, in my eyes.
unrelenting pressure of the waves,
the brutal hardness of the rocks,
the scourging action of the sea.
And all I could hear God say, over and over, was...
there is such beauty in brokenness.
These shells feel like intimate letters of love from my Creator to me...
And I'm left wondering...why do I not see beauty in the brokenness around me? In others?
What is it about my human nature that strives for everything to be perfect, for everything to look so beautiful...
when God can make beauty out of ashes?
That''s his job...not mine.
As always, more of Him, and less of me.
O God.
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