I’m not sure why, but this video of David Garibaldi painting Jesus brings tears to my eyes every time I watch it. Maybe it is the passion with which Garibaldi paints, or the powerful words in the song “The Glory of It All” by the David Crowder Band. What I do know is that when the painting is turned right side up and the face of Jesus is revealed, I simply lose it.
It’s not that His face is extraordinary, for Isaiah 53:2 tells us that “He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to Him, nothing in His appearance that we should desire Him.” But I can’t help seeing His face as beautiful. I can see the kindness in His eyes, but I also see the anguish in the creases of His face as He endures physical pain. However, it is not His outward appearance that makes Him beautiful to me. Rather, the reason I see Him as beautiful is because He bears the weight of my sin and He sacrificed Himself for me. It should have not been Him on that cross; it should have been me. What did I do to deserve such a gift? Nothing. I never did and I never will.
Yet this free gift is in front of me and I reach out to accept it. I am washed in His blood and my sins are no more. I am made new; white as snow.
When I see this beautiful face of His I imagine myself in a spotless wedding gown, walking down the most gorgeous aisle filled with every sort of colorful flower, meeting my Savior face to face, joining the others in the church as the bride of Christ.
I am ruined and I am saved all at the same time. He has redeemed me. I will never be the same. Everything has changed! No, I will never be the same.
Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life.
Today’s Reflecting Light blog post is written by Ashlee Matthews. Ashlee loves running, caring for her three dogs, and writing. She is involved in church ministry where she teaches middle schoolers. She is passionate about Jesus and she wants to do things in this life that matter. You can follow Ashlee’s blog at http://lovepeoplewell.com
I used to think that brave meant jumping out of a plane. I thought brave was serving your country. Brave was moving across the world to share the Gospel with unreached people. Brave was big. All or nothing. Brave was reserved for a special breed of people. Not me.
To me brave looks like Lt. Michael Murphy. It looks like Cheryl Strayed, Corrie Ten Boom, Jim Elliott, Laura Dekker. Brave is all of the men and women who have sacrificed their lives for our freedom. Brave is Katie Davis, Rosa Parks, Bethany Hamilton, Marcus Luttrell, Danny Dietz, Matt Axelson, Chris Kyle and countless others. Brave is the beautiful savior who layed down His life for me.
I thought that being brave had to be dangerous to your well being. I thought brave was hiking alone for over a thousand miles. Brave was everything I thought that I could never be.
Outgoing. Adventurous. Risky. Dangerous.
I am none of those things. Or I thought that I couldn’t be.
What I’m learning is that sometimes brave is small. Sometimes brave is talking to that girl that’s sitting alone outside watching the world go by while you walk your dog. Sometimes brave is talking in a microphone in front of a crowd. Brave is sharing your words. Brave is sharing your heart. Brave can be facing the quiet instead of just filling it with sound. Brave can be facing your feelings instead of just shoving them down.
I don’t think that brave is for some people only. I think we all get to be brave. I think we all are already brave.
Read the rest of Ashlee’s blog post here: Be Brave