(Written June 2015)
There’s one portion of scripture that hangs over my life like an anthem: Ecclesiastes 3:11 – “He makes all things beautiful in His time.”
Looking back over the shards of many broken dreams and even still trying to reconcile some life-long loose ends, those eight, powerful words hang over my history—this inconceivable promise. In retrospect, there’s so much that can’t possibly be made beautiful. How does one beautify mental illness and the pain it brings? The absolute way it shipwrecks a life, leaving things inconclusive indefinitely? When does loss blossom into something lovelier than what has always been missing? Surely no beautiful light can break forth from such darkness. The thoughts seem preposterous.
The notion that there exists this brand of radical hope; a hope that believes against all hope. And the audacity of this type of grace! This grace so lavish, flowing from a God so infinite that in His time, on His watch, there will be an unraveling of this ingenious story that is being chiseled out of every individual life. So in every season, I will recall this anthem; this reminder that beauty is the end goal of His handiwork. I might recoil at what I see now, surveying everything but beauty, but faith will help me to envision otherwise. Hope will keep me focused. Love will lead the way.
In His time, all will be made beautiful. I can count on it. So can you.