I sat down to do my morning bible study time. I woke up early and had a plan! Get my prayer time in, oils on, look for a song I heard on the Christian radio station, read some scripture, and share with my small group.

Then…I hit a destined detour.

Isn’t that how things can so often go? Our plans get halted and we come face to face with something we need to see.

Dwelling on the past isn’t the same as facing where we’ve been.

The song I looked up was My Jesus, and honestly, I had no idea what the back story was. I watched the lyric video first. Intrigued…I watched the official video. It was all I could do to finish. Mid song I saw a reflection of myself on my laptop screen.

My own sorrow was looking straight back at me. It’s crazy how time doesn’t soften the pain that surrounds grief. It’s an actual physical hurt. One that makes you feel like your chest is about to explode.

The shattered pieces of my heart were connecting with the story of the song writer. I made my way to her video testimony where she describes what the song is rooted in.

I’m so grateful I had a little scripture in me. It’s the strength I need for unexpected moments like this.

Many of us have “Jacob’s”. The circumstances surrounding our pile of ashes may be different, but each of us walk with remnants of ash on our feet.

The beauty of the Lord that rises up is found in the writing of words. In the singing of songs. In the drawing of pictures.

In our places of Jacob you will find authentic pain being used to tell of the hope that is only found in Christ.

There comes a time when we look down and see the trail of ashes behind us. Our footprints mix in with ashes from another. We recognize it. We hurt for them. And we look up, to the Guider of our steps and lift our praise.

Not for the tragedy, but for the undeniable presence of the Comforter. The One who is sweeping up the ashes, and collecting every tear to create something beautiful. A beauty not always seen by the world. A divine beauty where His scars lay overtop ours.

It’s a beauty no money can buy. It’s found in the real. The places others are afraid of. The places we never chose, but were handed.

Being divinely beautiful has a purpose.

It’s to show the next Jacob’s that you really can breathe again. That hope takes on a new name. That our days become His days. With our hands lifted high a pause button gets pushed, then we see. And we shift our hands out…to embrace the broken soul headed our way.

The one that doesn’t need to hear any words at all. The one who looks into our eyes and knows we see the start of their divine beauty.

Rising Up,

Tracy