The Beauty Shines Through

Though the winters in our area can feature wide-ranging temperatures and nary a flake until the spring, the snow has seemed particularly scarce this year. So when we happened to have a decent snowfall over the weekend, I was drawn to the window to watch the white fluff dance in the air. Enough snow had already fallen to leave significant amounts on the ground, which also meant that there was a sizeable accumulation on those areas that would have to be shoveled away, especially since we were having company later that day. I was admiring the pretty snow-covered evergreens that were in my view and at the same time praying for our family to arrive safely, remaining aware of the possible hazard the roads had become. As all of these thoughts swirled in my head like the flurries outside, a question suddenly popped into my mind: “How could something that can cause heartache be so incredibly beautiful?” When there is snow, accidents can be numerous, in the mountains within hours of us, avalanches occur, and people literally get lost in blowing snow and are overcome with hypothermia due to frigid temperatures. Yet, there is no denying that there is something picturesque and lovely about fresh falling snow. The beauty of this winter wonder shines through.
An hour or so later, there was quite another scene to view. Our local television stations were carrying the memorial service of a fallen hero, a deputy who had lost his life in the line of duty protecting others in an investigation that had turned into a detrimental attack. Though other officers were injured, the swift action of this deputy saved lives, including that of a civilian. At thirty-four years of age, he left behind a wife and two young children, his parents, brothers and sisters, other family and friends, and his fellow officers. As I continued watching the emotional testimonies of representatives of local law enforcement, his family and the pastor along with the ceremonial protocol, my mind formed a new question, “Where is the beauty in this, Lord?” The Lord allowed a swift answer: this deputy was a believer, and the beauty was the testimony and legacy he had left for his wife, his children and all who had the blessing of attending and viewing his memorial. Wonderful, personal stories were shared about his fun and quirky personality, his determination, devotion, and commitment to his chosen profession, and his thriving, vibrant and constant love for and trust in his God. We joined thousands of people who lined his procession route in the bitter weather holding signs and waving flags to affirm his heroism and honor his bravery. Though certainly there was, is, and will be heartache for those whom he loved and who loved him, Jesus is using his loss to reach out and touch others with the truth of the Gospel. The beauty of a life well lived shines through.
My present Bible reading is nearing the end of the Gospel of Matthew. It is always hard for me to read the end of each of the Gospels. They show the ugly side of man and the heartache that accompanied the arrest, trial, contemptible treatment, and crucifixion of Jesus. My heart wants to cry out, “Where is the beauty, Lord?” But, his response is swift and sure: “My child, you are the beauty that has come from the heartache I endured on the cross. For it is in my death and resurrection that you have eternal life. You will be with me forever, you and all who trust in me for salvation.” His scars will always be there to remind us of the anguish he endured for us, but the beauty of his selfless act of love and grace will forever shine through!
“On that day the Lord their God will save them as the flock of his people; for like the jewels of a crown they shall shine on his land. For how great is his goodness, and how great his beauty,” (Zechariah 9:16-17, ESV).
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: We want to thank Deputy Micah Flick and his family for the incredible service he provided to our community. He is a hero whom we will continue to hold in our hearts. We are praying for his family and for those with whom he served.

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