The Treasure House
by Jim Alseth
Isaiah 61 is a foundational passage for me—it's theme of restoration.
Yesterday the Lord brought a portion of that passage in a profound, deeply healing way, and one I think worth celebrating.
The day, during the night, started out toxic and got worse as morning rounded out—one of those where you're barely treading water emotionally and relationally, despair nipping at our heels and we having to “keep our claws sheathed” to avoid making things worse.
I went out to the backyard after lunch and started working on some final things before the weather turns. The day was cloudy, breezy, but decently mild enough to do yard work.
The clouds blew over, the sun came out, the breeze calmed and it became a brilliant afternoon.
The land and the vegetation seemed glad to welcome me, and I them. (The story of this property and it's redemption is a tale in itself, one I think I'll share on Jane Tenant's land forum.)
From the treasure-house of the King's good gifts, he brought me what I needed most on this day—Beauty. Everything outside seemed to be saturated with it, singing it, radiating it. Words fail here, but the savoring of it brings tears.
And it carried over into the house after my work was done. We were tender to one another again, able to enjoy each other's company. Things became as they should be.
It was a day He magnificently took my Ashes and turned them into Beauty, my Mourning into the Oil of Joy.
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