For many years, the entry to our bungalow was a door comprised of scraps of redwood. My craftsman husband had built a redwood strip canoe, leaving leftover narrow pieces. On the jobsite of architecturally designed houses as an electrician, he’d also gathered pieces of 1 x 4 redwood lumber. Putting them together, we designed an elegant entrance of alternating wide and thin vertical lines. Carefully offsetting the horizontal lines of the varying lengths of the wide wood, from scraps we made order and beauty. The thick and thin lines carried one’s eye along the oiled hardwood, interrupted only by the rectangular brass knocker, proclaiming peace to all who entered.
Artists save the smallest scraps of material from destruction. Without our artistic eye, the scraps of redwood would be languishing in our basement or a garbage dump. Bits of sparkly dichroic glass in my husband’s studio will someday accent a lampshade or a pendant. Architectural salvage in the form of the metal stars used to anchor old brick buildings together hang in a threesome on our wooden fence.
Our artist God can take the scraps of our lives, too, and make beauty. Nothing is leftover or salvaged in God’s plan. From childhood mistreatment, he can make resilience. From divorce he can deepen dependence on him. From a lost child, he can build deep compassion. Papa-God is using the residue of our lives to shape us into the beautiful image of his dear son. The spiritual beauty he creates is more solid than our redwood door. Our door only lasted for a season until it sagged on its hinges. Our artist Papa makes beauty that lasts forever.
Papa, May we long for the beauty that lasts.