As a child, did you ever go the beach? After some time in
the water, maybe you got your little bucket and started to build a sand castle.
The sand near the water was the most wet and perfect for keeping the bucket shape.
Bucket by bucket, the castle began to take a shape. After an hour or two, it
was a masterpiece complete with twig flags and a moat.
There is a problem with having to build so close to the water’s
edge though. Every now and then (and sometimes not until the end) waves splash
up oh so close and pull some of that beautiful castle back into the sea with
them. What once was a perfect masterpiece is now missing the entire left wing!
And can you stop that wave from reaching the castle? No! Even if you laid your
little body between, some water would still get through.
Now, this may be a silly little analogy, but it’s been on
my heart a lot lately. In my pondering, my life is my sandcastle. Perfect no,
but pretty well put together all things considered. And God? God is the wave,
rushing in with his unstoppable power and pulling away the “west wing”.
This is one example from my life:
For Josh and I, getting pregnant and having babies was always
a matter of pride, or at least of great success. During the years of
childbirth, we would laugh with our friends and family about how simple it was,
how many kids we would have and how we’d probably have more than even we
anticipated because it was just so natural to my body. That was the sandcastle
sitting confidently on the beach.
After Chloe was born, everything fell apart. Within a few
months, I was pregnant again. Two months later, I miscarried. Another couple of
months passed. Again, I was pregnant. Two months later, I miscarried. This
happened four times. Each time, I held less hope in my heart for the baby
inside and each time, it was again lost to me.
To this date, I have carried nine babies, but only four
of them live here on Earth with me. The proud, little sandcastle of my life is
pretty battered. Around me, people continue to carry and give birth to babies
while I sit and fight to smile instead of cry when I’m asked if I’m next. Due (I’m
sure) to the loss, I now battle some form of depression/anxiety which I didn’t
before the miscarriages. No longer am I “put together” as well as I’d like to
be and that’s hard to work through.
Recently, I discovered a painting by a Richard Harpum that
I absolutely love entitled, ‘Sandcastles’. It depicts children on a patchy beach
building their sandcastles. The castles aren’t perfect. Each is built up
against some pool of water or has been broken in some way. Remnants of old castles
and shells can be seen strewn in the background. Parents and children walk
along the shoreline and a dog runs in between the pools. To me, it is a breath
of fresh air on canvass. However, if Harpum were to have filled a canvass with
just one of those broken sandcastles, the painting would have been pretty lame.
Who would buy that? Instead, when you pan out and see the entire painting as a
whole, it evokes feelings of the freedom of childhood, peace, beauty and
happiness.
Isn’t that just like us? It’s so easy to focus only on
the one sandcastle that is falling apart and miss the beauty of the whole
picture. My sandcastle is just one fragment of the great painting that God is
making of his creation.
Yes, it’s hard to be the broken part of the painting. One
side of me just wants so badly to be living something else. This is where I
find encouragement when I’m feeling these things:
The Lord is near to the broken-hearted and
saves the crushed in spirit.
Many are the afflictions of the righteous,
but the Lord delivers him out of them all.
Psalm 34:18-19
Let me hear joy and gladness;
Let the bones that you have broken rejoice.
Hide your face from my sins,
And blot out all my iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from your presence,
And take not your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore unto me the joy of your salvation,
And uphold me with a willing spirit.
Psalm 51:8-12
Willing to be broken by God. What a thought! Who am I to
doubt the master plan of God? Instead, I want my prayer to be the same as that
of Charles Spurgeon who said, “I have
learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages.”
And why? Because the Rock of Ages can be trusted. I have
this verse on my wall and I read in over and over again every day:
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
For his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning.
Great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23
This side of glory, I will never understand fully why God
chooses what he does for me – why he breaks the sandcastle of my life. However,
I will always know that because of his great love, I will not be completely
consumed. Every morning, I awake to renewed compassion from him, my father –
the Rock of Ages.
Someday, in glory, spread across eternity will be the
magnificent canvass that he has been painting. My broken, little sandcastle will
be a fragment of it. There will be far greater sorrows experienced by others of
his children and far lighter journeys as well. For now, I live with faith,
knowing that the Painter is designing all things according to His perfect plan.
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