A strange message of hope about a bruised conqueror crushing His enemy… A son – a son – prepared to be sacrificed by his old, old father… Blood-drenched entrances protecting ordinary people inside… A man – God – the symbol of the world’s sin – dying until a curtain was ripped in half, uniting sinners with God’s dwelling place in an ancient temple.
A thread of redemption woven throughout centuries.
A timeless God, perfectly planning events. Perfectly planning time.
I am amazed at God’s grace. I am amazed at God’s intentional love story planned from the first second His heart was wounded by His own creation, His love. I am amazed God’s crimson thread was woven throughout generations, stitching together a masterpiece of grace.
I am humbled when I think of my own pain, my own little mural, as compared to God’s rescue plan. And yet, this timeless God, the Planner of events and healing and restoration, has done it again. He has prepared my heart in advance for the pain of the now. There are books picked up again – after being ignored for months – whose truth speak to present circumstances. There are friends with whom I’ve journeyed through their pain, only to discover their path is now my own. There are past words I myself have written to encourage, but their messages are healing me in the present.
And I ponder at how He prepares our hearts – so tenderly, and then not-so-tenderly other times. “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?” God asks His people. “Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.” (Isaiah 49:15) Carved on His hands. Etchings transcending time. My walls – my days – my salvation and forever security are on the forefront of His mind.
And His thread of redemption pierces me with truth and weaves a larger beauty out of many today’s. I am clothed with this masterpiece. I am hidden by it. I am comforted by it.
I am amazed at His timeless grace evidenced in this very time.
By Christan Perona, Repurposed Heart