Beauty for Ashes

Contemporary American poet Robert Bly has said, "Where a man's wound is, that is where his genius will be."  I read this quote in the work of Mark Batterson, the pastor of National Community Church in Washington, D.C., and it has remained in my mind and heart over the past couple of weeks.  I don't know about you, but I have never really associated wounds with genius.  Wounds hurt.  Wounds are festering and painful.  Wounds are private, and most of us would probably prefer to heal them quickly and forget their sting.  Genius, on the other hand, should be celebrated, shared, and praised.  What can the two possibly have to do with one another?  Perhaps more than I have ever suspected...

Candice Lightner is a perfect example of Bly's philosophy in action.  You may not readily recognize her name, but you know the organization that was birthed from her wound.  Lightner's genius was developed after what can only be described as one of life's greatest tragedies.  On May 3, 1980,  her 13 year old daughter Cari was senselessly killed in a hit and run accident on her way to a church carnival. Cari's body was left on the street at the corner of Sunset and New York Avenue in Fair Oaks, California while the intoxicated 46 year old repeat DUI offender fled the scene,  Upon learning that the perpetrator would likely serve little or no jail time for the murder of her daughter, Candy Lightner did what many would find unthinkable in the face of such a tragedy; she turned her pain into action and founded Mothers' Against Drunk Driving.  Over the past 32 years, the organization is credited with dramatically decreasing  drunk driving through both public awareness and legislation across the country.

"To all who mourn in Israel, He will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory." (Isaiah 61:3 NLT).  There is power in the realization that perhaps God's greatest glorification comes through our willingness to let Him use our hurts to make a difference in the world around us.  

I recently had the privilege of hearing an amazing young couple share their true "beauty for ashes" testimony.  They are raising three young children and are leaders in our local church.  Both are active in key areas of ministry, discipling men and women at every opportunity; the picture of servant's hearts.  Their family is truly an example of what is right in the church today.  Turns out, their backgrounds are as far from where they are today as you could possibly imagine.  Both grew up with little or no knowledge of God in homes full of abuse, drugs, and horrible neglect.  Their stories involved their own addictions,  legal troubles and incarceration, and I sat in total amazement listening to them share how God has transformed them completely. They have struggled with setting boundaries with seriously difficult extended family members, and they have rejoiced at the willingness of Godly mentors to step up and fill the roll of grandparents in their children's lives.  They could have easily decided to guard their hearts and cover their wounds from public view, but their genius truly does lie in their willingness to be vulnerable and tell others who may be struggling with similar issues that there is someone who understands, and no matter how desperate your past has been, your future doesn't have to be. "For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."(Jeremiah 29:11 NLT)

For many of us, our wounds are not nearly as dramatic as those I have shared, but we all have hurting places that, if we allow Him to, God can create genius from, be glorified through, and bring true healing to. Plans, hope, and a future.  Beauty from ashes.  The young couple I spoke of admitted to being able to see "the look" of a hurting brother or sister, and to feeling called to minister to them.  Perhaps we should all be open to seeing those around us who hurt in ways we can relate to and become willing to offer our own "genius," such as it may be, to help them on their journey; to pay it forward, if you will.  Is it challenging? Absolutely. Is it frightening? Undoubtedly.  Is it what we are called to do? I am convinced it is. 

I have spent a lifetime struggling with weight.  Until now, I have been completely unable to maintain a reasonable weight in a healthy manner.  Slowly I am building confidence in my ability to understand how to truly care for the temple that is my body, and the most amazing thing is that, with time, I am building a certain credibility on the subject.   Gradually I am finding myself able to share parts of my struggle and how I won the battle.  I am learning to spot "the look" and find ways to reach out and share hope.  Right now my knowledge and comfort zone most often lead me to send people to those who helped me.  It's certainly no huge leap, but it is a start; a beginning I am certain God will honor.   

Have my wounds built genius? Yes, yes they have.  Yours have, too.  Maybe we can all begin together to use our genius, the wisdom of experience, to bring beauty for ashes in our lives, in our communities, in our world.