Beauty for Ashes

My last class of my first semester as a grad student was on Monday night. The course was called "Teaching Writing," and a major component of it was to practice what we will (hopefully) someday teach. As part of a final portfolio, we all had to submit a polished poem, fiction piece, and memoir. For our last class meeting, everyone read aloud one of their pieces.

When I arrived on campus Monday night, I still wasn't sure which piece I would read. I wanted to share my memoir about the loss of my friend David last summer, but it was too long for the five minute time limit, and even if I read an excerpt I knew I would cry. That's just who I am; I cry when asked to speak about or read anything that matters to me in front of an audience.

The guy whose turn came right before mine sat down in the "author's chair" and stated, "I had planned on reading my fiction piece, but then I realized that would be the easy choice,  so I'm going to read my memoir."

Yes, God, I heard that message loud and clear. Thank you.

I would be reading my memoir.

I ended up reading almost all of it, which I felt bad for because I took up too much time, and I cried off and on (let's be honest, mostly on) from the first line. But I felt that for some reason God really wanted me to share this story with my classmates.

I also titled the piece on the spot. Just before my turn came, I realized I hadn't come up with a title. I glanced through the pages and this phrase jumped out at me: "beauty for ashes."

In the memoir, I talk about realizing how many lives David had touched by the number of people and inspiring stories shared at his funeral. To me, that was the beauty received in exchange for the ashes, the joy given in place of our mourning, the garment of praise in exchange for our heaviness (Isaiah 61:3).

Since reading my memoir to my class, the idea of beauty for ashes has been popping up all over, along with another main thread in my memoir about my expectations not being met but receiving some sort of blessing far different from what I hoped for, instead.

The song and poems I'm quoting in this post reflect some of the sweet, but difficult, things God has been teaching me.

For the past few days, this simple song by Shane and Shane has been drifting in and out of my mind:

Beauty for ashes
A garment of praise for my heaviness
Beauty for ashes
Take this heart of stone and make it Yours

I delight myself in the Richest of Fair
Trading all that I've had for all that is better
A garment of praise for my heaviness
You are the greatest taste
You're the richest of fair

Listen to Shane and Shane's "Beauty for Ashes" here

Then, the devotional I'm currently reading (Streams in the Desert) echoed the thought I arrived at through writing my memoir in the first place: God's answers don't always look the way we expect them to. The poem included in the May 13th entry captures the idea beautifully:

I prayed for strength, and then I lost awhile

All sense of nearness, human and divine;

The love I leaned on failed and pierced my heart,

The hands I clung to loosed themselves from mine;

But while I swayed, weak, trembling, and alone,

The everlasting arms upheld my own.

I prayed for light; the sun went down in clouds,

The moon was darkened by a misty doubt,

The stars of heaven were dimmed by earthly fears,

And all my little candle flames burned out;

But while I sat in shadow, wrapped in night,

The face of Christ made all the darkness bright.

I prayed for peace, and dreamed of restful ease,

A slumber drugged from pain, a hushed repose;

Above my head the skies were black with storm,

And fiercer grew the onslaught of my foes;

But while the battle raged, and wild winds blew,

I heard His voice and Perfect peace I knew.

I thank Thee, Lord, Thou wert too wise to heed

My feeble prayers, and answer as I sought,

Since these rich gifts Thy bounty has bestowed

Have brought me more than all I asked or thought;

Giver of good, so answer each request

With Thine own giving, better than my best.

--Annie Johnson Flint


And finally, yesterday morning's devotional articulated far better than I could that even when life's circumstances don't make sense to me, I know I can trust God because He knows the bigger picture and He is the one authoring this story.

Unfortunately no author was given for this one:

I cannot know why suddenly the storm 

Should rage so fiercely round me in its wrath; 

But this I know—God watches all my path, 
      And I can trust.

I may not draw aside the mystic veil 

That hides the unknown future from my sight, 

Nor know if for me waits the dark or light; 

      But I can trust.

I have no power to look across the tide, 

To see while here the land beyond the river; 

But this I , know—I shall be Gods forever; 

      So I can trust.

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