Today is the type of day that poems are written for. Poets are inspired to write and readers inspired to read with rhyme and romance. Everyone comes together in an appreciation of true beauty. The sky is its most brilliant blue, the blanket boldest yellow; faces are sun-kissed and hair is wind-blown. And the very grass dances with such passionate grace that one feels certain it must sing as well. The lawn is freckled with violets and dandelions; perhaps they are weeds, but still they are the bearers of the wishes of our youth. Today is a day that the air smells like healing-it seems taboo to discuss anything but pleasant things. The sunlight, the perfect green of the new growth, the earth, and the air- all sing the unity of humanity and of nature and of the two of them together. All of them in a harmonious chorus of worship for the Creator. Every sigh of contentment is a whisper of thanksgiving to the Designer of this day.
Humanity is a loaded word. It can be used to describe something huge and vague or something deeply personal. Humanity is a hideous beautiful thing. All at once it sums up the best and worst parts of personality. It tells of sin, failure, and frailty; compassion, laughter, and life. Humanity is a painful joyous place to be. But maybe, maybe all this pain and discomfort and growth is the process of refining. When the Bible talks about the refining process of metals, I always thought of the end result. I never considered what it must be like to be "in it." I've definitely been "in it" for a good many months now. I'm a sad, broken, tarnished, beautiful thing at the mercy of my maker. The thing about refining is that it brings out the ugly. But the ugly doesn't just steam out and vanish into nothingness. No, unfortunately for me and those around me it floats to the top and gathers. It gathers and gathers and draws more to itself until it's hard to see what was underneath. But all that underneath is everything that it was and becoming more beautiful than before-still, hidden under the ugly. Ugly until the Creator comes to scrape it off. The scraping HURTS. Purification that makes the skin burn and the limbs ache and the heart faint, until everything glows with new light. Forgiveness. Holiness in all its icy fire, in all its unadulterated brilliance. Getting there, under all the ugly, I'm getting there.
"And the desert blooms, He makes all things new."