The sky here is so open and bright. Every evening, there's a different sunset. Every evening it's beautiful. I want to reach out and touch it, drink it in and forget all my troubles, to sink down into the soft clouds and sleep for years, to paint my skin with the colors, to dance until I become the sky.
I tend to forget that there is more to life than the one I lead. I forget to find joy and peace and comfort in simple moments. Some days, I feel like all that's left of me is the skin that covers my bones.
Will You still love me when I can't stop telling myself lies? When belief is too much for me to comprehend? When the darkness seeps beneath my skin and fills my lungs with prideful shame?
The clouds are incredibly beautiful to me, and I usually like them better even than clear skies, simply for the aesthetic they provide. I like sunsets better than the brightness of mid-day, impending nighttime allows the sun to bring out better colors.
It is our blemishes, our faults (and dare I say our affinity for the darkness?) that make us unique, that allow us to become beautiful. For if we were perfect, if we were clear and clean and bright like a cloudless sky at noon, there wouldn't be any need for saving. There wouldn't be any way for us to relate to those around us, those with scarred hearts and broken souls.
"Will your grace run out
If I let you down?
Because all I know
Is how to run.
Will You call me child
When I tell you lies?
Because all I know
Is how to cry.
I am a sinner,
If it's not one thing it's another.
Caught up in words,
Tangled in lies.
But You are a Savior,
And You take brokenness aside
And make it beautiful."
My soul might be broken and charred from the darkness I cling to, but You will turn it into something beautiful, if only I can let go of myself long enough to let You. When we stop pretending to be perfect, lean to accept our faults and give them up to the One who can make them new, we too will turn beautiful, colorful, and luminous like the sky at dusk.
If all the clay was already made into pots, there would be no need for a potter. If all the canvases were already covered in paint, there would be no need for painters. Without the color black, white would mean nothing. Without bad days, good ones would be mundane. Without the darkness, we wouldn't need Him.
Don't dwell in the darkness, but don't shun it either. Don't pretend it doesn't exist. Learn from it, talk about it, allow Him to take it and turn it into something. Something new, something beautiful.
You are amazing, even more so than the sky, and He will use the darkness in you, just as He does at sunset and sunrise. There is always a chance for a new beginning.
[Excerpts from my journal; lyrics from "Brokenness Aside" by All Sons and Daughters; title from the song "Human" by Daughter.]
