Old Rubble

I'll give you a full life in the emptiest of places--- You'll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew, rebuild the foundations from out of your past. Isaiah 58:11-12 Message

I've seen rubble, piled high and daunting like some backwoods mountain needing to be climbed. Way back when, I saw dreams demolished and spread so wide I couldn't view the end of it. At the ripe age of fifteen, I didn't feel the heartbreak of so many lives scattered and shattered clear through in one city, that had been blown through and blown away.  I only saw the hope that one bus load of teenagers felt, skipping a whole day of school, and working hard and soon forgetting all that debris.
A lifetime later, I witness the wrecked. I feel the shattering and stumble through, stumble over, the busted. I experience the emptiness that once thrived. I weep over the destruction wrought by sorrow time and again. I cling, desperately, to any remains, even the broken bits, in hopes of resurrecting a life, a family. I count the cost of these ruins, and I stagger, overwhelmed and reeling.
I am no longer fifteen, with hope-filled eyes. I stare at the rubble piled high and daunting and long for the grace to climb, pray for the strength to endure. It was here, as I was wading through the mess of it all, that my God came, whispering.
“I'll give you a full life in the emptiest of places. “
“You'll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew, rebuild the foundations from out of your past. “
All that rubble, daunting? Building material.
All those empty spots, seeping, weeping? Filled. With life.
It feels impossible. Downright ludicrous.
Until.
Until I remember: God.
And hope, it worms its way in. He is able to do all things. It is not too difficult for Him to bring water from a rock or to transform ashes into beauty. If He can resurrect the dead, He can resurrect a heart, a family.

I consider the ground, littered by the dead. I witness the emptiness of arms towering, and I know, that in the spring, life will blossom once more. And all this scattered, the rubble of past lives, will be the foundations, built anew.
As I consider the dreams that are demolished and spread so wide that I can no longer glimpse them, and I ache with the heartbreak of so many lives shattered, lives that have been blown through and blown away, I can rest. Like leaves that are cast to the feet of these arms, towering, I can cast myself at the feet of my God whose love towers overall.  I can run to the arms of my Savior who delights in using rubble to build a strong foundation. A Redeemer who “will look with compassion on all her ruins. He will make her deserts like Eden, her wastelands like the garden of the Lord.” Isaiah 51:3

And the empty will be full once more.