A single flame burned inside the lantern, yet hundreds of little points of light danced across the darkened room. An artist had taken this plain tin cylinder and meticulously punched hundreds of tiny holes into the metal. The design, when lit from within, transformed both the little lamp and the darkness into breathtaking beauty. Enchanted, I bought the lantern and carried it home.
Though it would be far better if I’d never sinned, God uses my wounds to reveal His light.
When I run my hand along the inside of the pierced metal, I can feel the rough edges of the strikes. There’s a familiarity about them: I feel something similar in my heart. In my experience, there’s nothing more painful than the cutting edges of my own mistakes—personal failures, rebellion, and moral blunderings. Each is a wound that pierces my soul. I want my life to be a thing of beauty for God’s glory, but my wrongdoing has disfigured me. I fear I have ruined His perfect design and can never become what He intended. But time after time, He changes what I cannot. Each wound becomes the raw material grace transforms into something useful and, yes, even beautiful. Though it would be far better if I’d never sinned, God uses my wounds to reveal His light.
It takes faith, as real as those wounds, to believe the master Artist can redeem what I regret. But as I trust, my regrets are replaced by awe. God’s love has saved me in every possible way. The Light of the World, Jesus, is within me, and despite my human failings, His glory is still at work (2 Cor. 3:7-18).
Each day, I pray for greater faith—that God will use every wound as a window for His grace to show forth and that one day all transgressions, forgiven and redeemed, will bring greater light to the darkness. You never know: all those points of light, shining together, might just be bright enough to lead another person home.