Beauty from Ashes

Holding the two vividly detailed hand-drawn self portraits in my hands, I shook my head while biting my lower lip in both amazement and anguish as I slowly studied one and then the other.  The little girl looked up at me with those dark chocolate brown eyes and cautiously asked me if she had done the assignment wrong. Forgetting that my body language was communicating what I felt in my heart rather than what I desired for her to hear and understand, I quickly tried to cover my actions, by replying, “Oh, honey, the detail you put into each of your portraits is simply beautiful. They have stolen my breath away!” She innocently laughed and bounced away to pick up a book that she had been begging to read.

The assignment had been to make two portraits. One portrait depicting what she felt like on the inside, the part that no one sees; the part that she believes no one would understand, the part that is hard for her to express with words. I asked her to think about what colors represented her feelings as I opened the tray of oil pastels and took out the box of charcoal and colored pencils. I asked her if she was big or small, loud or quiet, seen or invisible, etc… The other portrait was to represent what she wanted to feel like on the inside and how she wanted other people to see her. I asked her the same questions (what colors do you see, are you big or small, loud or quiet, seen or invisible, etc...). I then sat at the far end of the table and worked on my own project.

Unlike me, she needed no time to begin her portrait. I watched from the corner of my eye as her hand searched for her color of choice, finally resting on a new piece of rectangular charcoal. I set my eyes back on my own pad of paper, but could hear the sharp sounds of the charcoal being etched onto the textured paper. The sound of the charcoal told me her story before I even saw her picture. I heard every stroke. I heard every frustration. I heard her feverishly race to put the image on paper. There was certainty in what she was creating. There was bitterness and anger. With the slightest pause in the air, I looked up to see her start shading the image with her fingertips, again intensity filled the air. I said nothing and returned to my work.

When I looked at this finished portrait, darkness hovered over the young girl wearing tattered clothing. Her dark eyes were smudged and a single tear was at the corner of one eye. Angry, bold words were written all over the page. Words like: stupid, loser, fatty, ugly, just kill yourself already… My heart ached as I could identify with some of these emotions, for I had spent a good share of my own adolescence believing many of these lies. If I am being honest, I was not surprised that her portrait revealed such hurt. I was taken aback however, by the intensity! That is something that art can reveal that words often cannot, especially when the child struggles to communicate effectively with words to begin with. I asked the girl later if she could describe herself in just one word what would it be and she said, “A tomb”. My heart sank and I smiled weakly as I pulled her into a hug.

Her second portrait was also in charcoal but she had used crisp thin lines to draw her image of a young girl wearing a flowered top and a crown on her head. Her smiled filled her entire face, which in turn made me smile! Words again filled the space around her image. Words like: beautiful, accepted, loved, important, etc. At the sight of this portrait my heart seemed to stop beating and my breath truly was stolen away. Again, I could identity with this 13 year old girl. Though I am far older, I believe all girls, young and old, desire to be beautiful, to be valued, and appreciated.   When I asked her to describe herself in one word in this picture, she said, “Filled-up”. If you know me, even a little, you know I couldn’t hold back the tears at her words.

My breath wasn’t stolen away for the realization that I am not all that different from a 13 year old girl, but because just that morning I had read Isaiah 61:1-4:

The Spirit of the sovereign Lord is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach the good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor. They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated, they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations.

In those days it was common practice for those who were in mourning to pour ashes on their heads, tear their clothes, and wail loudly as they roamed the city streets. This was an outward expression of the anguish residing in their hearts.  Though this is not common practice in our culture today, our grief can become a foothold for Satan to keep us from living a full, Spirit-filled life. The Spirit of the Lord longs desperately to come alongside us in our grief, in our pain, and walk with us, replacing our torn rags with garments of praise, restoring our hearts to gladness, and bringing us more into the likeness of His Son, Jesus, as He places His crown of beauty upon our heads.

Strong’s Dictionary reveals that the original meaning of the “crown of beauty” was an ornamental head dress like a crown or a wedding veil. The term is derived from the Hebrew word, “pa’ar”, which means “to gleam, to explain oneself, to beautify” (Strong’s). In those days, the kind of head dress a woman wore explained who she was. Isaiah 61:3 beautifully portrays God “blowing away the ashes of mourning and replacing them with a crown---not just any crown, His crown”! We are the bride of Christ, of the Prince of Peace. Can we accept that? Can we let go of the lies we have allowed Satan to fill our empty spaces with and confidently walk in the Truth. We ARE His bride.

Obviously, there was no way for this little girl to know what I had read hours before our art lesson. However, the Lord gave me such a tender moment with her as He had most certainly primed my heart for this time. Forever, this young girl will be in my thoughts and prayers as I hope with all my heart that her and all women, young and old (me included) will embrace the identity Christ desperately longs for us to accept.

Satan wants to destroy our dreams, God wants to surpass them. He gives us dreams so we will long for His reality” (Beth Moore).

Can we learn to see ourselves as beautiful to Christ? Can we wear His crown confidently? I dare you to sketch yourself as He sees you and then pray that He give you His eyes to see yourself like that too!