A Painting of Life

(This isn't the same church, but it is an accurate representation.)

It is a strange road we walk...this thing called life.

I've often looked at it as a painting I once saw as a child in my Grandmother's spare bedroom.

I regretfully cannot remember the name of the artist (because what 10 year old has an interest in art :) ), but I can attempt to describe it to you.

It was of a church sitting up on a hill. It was a grey clapboard church and very old with rising glass windows that were missing panes here and there. The steeple's shingles were falling off and the door was nearly off its hinges, yet there were still horses parked outside of it, and the churchyard was full of tombstones. Forlorn looking things.

Around this church was a grassy hillside. and a path that wound around the hill so much so that if one got to walking absentmindedly, they would never quite make it to the top. As the path came away from the hill, it was bumpy and it rose and fell with the land.

I remember the painting being a sad one for me to look at and I could never quite figure out why my Grandma had it in a yellow bedroom; so contrasting was it to its surroundings.

Looking back now, it was what made it stand out more, and I didn't think much about what that painting might or might not symbolize.

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The path was something that reached out to me personally. It is something that can be different lengths and take longer to travel depending on the individual. There are different roads we walk in this life, and our personalities and character define how we deal and how quickly we deal with difficulty, struggle, pain, and the effects of suffering.

There were the rises and falls, the potholes, and the smooth ground...all to be representing a lot of points in my life that I could identify as places on my road that were rough, or easy. We all have our load to bear. These are some of my potholes and where I fell in my spirit because of circumstance or choice.

-Losing my Grandmother in 2012, one of my closest friends ever since I could recollect.

-My Dad and brothers' car accident in 2009 that doctors told my brother he should not have survived

-Almost losing my Dad in fall 2014

-Hearing about the death (supposed suicide) of a classmate from high school and wondering why I never tried to treat him with more love, compassion, and share JESUS with him despite how different he was than me. That guilt has walked with me for over a year now, and at different points became something I tried to shut out.


All of those things are part of the potholes of my path I walk and have walked. Part of the falls of my path. Where I came out of those great times in my life and walked through some shadows. Some shadows I couldn't understand and others were my own doing. Nevertheless, they were a part of my journey and will forever be as long as I walk this earth.

The highs of my journey? There were good times (this post isn't all sad, I promise. :) ) !

-Receiving Jesus Christ. He came in, and all the good that is in me is Him. I fall forward in my spirit in the wonder of why He chose to die and to rise to pay my debt and give me a second chance at life when I deserve death. A debt He did not owe and to rise again in a symbol of forgiveness. This is my testimony.

-Blessing me with older women at different points of my life that have guided me, walked me through decision making, and simply prayed for me (at times without my telling them I was having a hard time). God worked through these women and I thank Him for their existence and obedient hearts.

-The people that have come in and out of my life revealing my weaknesses and highlighting strengths. A lot of times, I believe God used them to grow me in different ways.

-Knowing that although my time was limited with her, my Grandmother is now free from her physical pain.

-The fact that my family survived their car accident and walk around today scarless. That time made us all so much more close and our relationships even deeper.

-The peace the Lord provides whenever I feel guilt rising and I bring it before Him in my shame. I cannot undo or do that which I did not, but the Lord ( in His sovereignty ) is able to forgive me. Not only this, but He would have been able to do through someone or something else what I did not in the life of this classmate. His performed will is beyond me, never because of me. I can only pray that somehow through the evil of the situation that He brought about good.

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The path that wound around the hill the church was sitting on is the point that we reach when we are having to make a choice.

We are walking in circles just close enough to Jesus and just arm's reach from our own way that we have found a place of comfort for ourselves. It is comfortable to think that we have just enough of Jesus to offset the negative effects of our own choices.

We walk and we walk, around and around, occasionally looking up at the steeple, the higher calling. We feel so drawn to the steeple, and we don't know why because it looks so unattractive...so shabby...so unkept. But it looks peaceful. And that peace is the one thing that life isn't affording to us.... the one thing we can't find no matter how many times we walk a full circle in our own way.

But then we hear it. A still small voice. It's not the church, it's not the tombstones, it's not the voice of the people singing inside, but the one inside of our head as the fog clears before us and we see a pathway to the door of the church. The pathway is forked, giving us the choice to continue on our own way with our own choices versus receiving peace in Christ.

As you stand choosing between to paths, two lives, two choices...you confirm your one fear. A life with Christ is not easy, it is not always pleasant, and it may not always look beautiful on the outside (like the church).

The church is merely the body. Your body. Full of holes, covered in cracks and errors. Needing a paint job. Drafty. Cold. Alone, that is all it is...a shell. So you stand there for a moment, identifying with the church in all of its outward appearance.

But what you are being told by the voice inside of you that has found its way to your heart is different than what you see.

The church, the voice tells you, is like you. It is unworthy of approval, it is deemed as no longer sufficient for its purpose. It is ugly, and everything you can see, but it is beautiful because of what happens inside of it. It is a place of worship, of rebirth, and it is a place of hope.

When filled with the joy and worship of the Lord, it becomes ever so much more. The scars of the past are still there as choices and circumstances are not easily erased. But now it has become new in the sense that it has once again been filled with singing, with worship, with joy, and with peace. It is no longer standing alone.

I want to be that church. I am so ugly, so shameful, so unworthy, so inept for the purpose Christ may have laid for me. Yet, He gave me the choice. He offered His love and His peace free for the taking. The opportunity and the ability to love Him.

That love, true Christ-centered love, is what enters in and makes a sinful soul washed clean. We wear the scars of our choices, but we are no longer bound to those times and experiences. We are bound to hope!

"Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us."

Romans 5:5

Maddy-