Wreckage redeemed | Beverly Carroll

Wreckage redeemed

Our lives now—what we have learned, how we have grown, who we have become—are a direct result of the shards of our shattered experiences and the fragments of our former selves.

Wreckage, both literal and figurative, represents the aftermath of destruction—the remnant of something that was once whole.

Do you remember how it felt to be whole, by the way? Before life, and others, were unkind?

Take heart, beloveds.

Like the charred remains of a forest after a fire, the jagged edges of a broken mirror, or the silent echoes of a heart left in pieces, the components for rebirth and renewal persist, despite their brokenness.

In the unexpected glory of the wreckage hides a magnificent, multi-faceted precursor to redemption, underscoring the promise that, in God’s economy, all of it matters and none of it is wasted.

Not a loss was unnoticed. Not a cry went unheard.

Neither your pain nor your tears escaped His attention. What broke you was not arbitrary. What left you in pieces was not without design.

Your Redeemer among the rubble has always had a purpose for your pain and a plan for your peace.

He painstakingly puts us back together, transforming our broken dreams into living parables—flesh and blood reminders—that our wreckage is not an end, but a beginning. Not a destination, but an invitation into a life that would not be ours any other way.

In the interplay of light and shadow, in the dance of creation and destruction, we find that beauty and brokenness are inextricably linked. The former, always most evident in the context of the latter, testifies unmistakably, proclaiming that only in the wreckage do we uncover our most profound and poignant purposes.

It is here where our destinies are forged and our best selves revealed. May we be granted eyes to see the beauty that abounds among the brokenness that obscures.

As we mine our wreckage for all that remains hidden, it is my prayer that God will transfigure it so completely that our lament is overshadowed with joy for the brilliance that emanates most conspicuously through our darkest moments.

“To console those who mourn in Zion, To give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; That they may be called trees of righteousness, The planting of the LORD, that He might be glorified.”
~ 𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝟔𝟏:𝟑

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