Ruins

I love old ruins.

An old barn on a hillside with chipped roof slates and weathered siding missing. A house with sagging porch, no paint, broken windows and crumbling chimney. A stone foundation, without evidence as to what kind of building rested on top. An ancient farm truck or tractor, abandoned and rusting away in a patch of briers. You get the idea.

Old ruins carry a hint of original glory. A leaning barn was once bursting with crops and livestock. The old gray house started out as someone’s dream. The rusting metal hunk of equipment was once shiny and new.  Ruins are markers of past dreams.

I see something of myself in ruins. I’m only a shadow of how God originally planned me. Sin has taken it’s toll. I’ve never come close to being fully who God intended me to be. I am a ruin.

But, I am a ruin in reverse.

In the broken pieces of my life I catch glimpses of who I will one day be, when I am in eternity with my Creator.

Whenever I show love, it is only a glimpse of the perfect love I will one day be able to give.

My laughter is hollow when compared to the unfettered joy that will pour out of me in the presence of God.

Whether I am playing music, creating art, or finding order in chaos, all is merely shadows of the creative freedom and expression that will be mine throughout eternity.  Then I will be fully be who my Heavenly Father created me to be.

I may be a ruin now, but I am a glory in the making!