There is beauty everywhere, but so often we look through the eyes of the world, and we simply miss it...or maybe dismiss this beauty because it does not seem to hold up to the standards that our society has created. But what if we take the words of Romans 12: 1-2 seriously and we get serious about not conforming to the patterns of this world, but instead, we let our minds be transformed by the Spirit. What if we allow God to bend and mold us, what if we allow Him to touch our eyes so that we might see again in new light, what if we prepare our hearts to be astounded by what He has created? What if we become astounded by ourselves, not with a sense of selfish pride, but with heartbeats of gratitude? What if we let God's Word lavish our souls with wonder and amazement? What if we believe Him when He tells us that we are beautiful and that we are His?
:: do not go gentle into that good night
rage, rage against the dying of the light.
the first time i heard this poem, i was in the darkest night of the soul. i was Gideon at the bottom of the winepress, hiding from my enemies in a way that surrounded me with stone and, oh, there was fear there.
i didn't know where i was. or maybe i did, and i didn't know how to understand this place, because i hadn't been taught by those around me how to stand strong in what i knew versus what was expected.
i wanted more. but fear had its hand tight over my mouth, its mouth against my ear. and the words it spoke were smoke, floating into my mind and gripping so tight that i could barely breathe. i was drowning in my own self-loathing.
and i pulled deep within my soul, attempting to slam the door behind me, to shut out the pain and the darkness that pounded
won't you just give up?
and then the Lion put His paw in the door. and we wrestled.
and i fought Him hard, tooth and nail, and begged
Jesus, please, when does it stop?
can't i just give up?
and He roared a battlecry that still echoes in my mind, the long exhale of a warrior with sword drawn and teeth bared.
you are Mine.
and I do not give up on what is Mine.
and the King of the Universe caught me by the chin and lifted my head from the floor. the eyes of the broken met those of the Broken. and i saw myself in His gaze, and i realized. light begets light, glory begets glory, and sacredness gives birth to Life.
and that was the day i was raised to the front lines, a lioness with feathers in my hair and washed white in the Blood of my Jesus.
:: rage, oh rage, against the dying of the Light.
Rachel is a writer, a lover, a daughter of Aslan, a dreamer. three years a wife and brand-new momma, pursuing the sacred day by day, abandoning capital letters and embracing the Light. you can find her heart at dramaticelegance