Sprawled across my bed yesterday afternoon, I daydreamed of a house built of candy.
The house took up my whole vision, the whole picture in my mind’s eye: the way little pieces of glitter and seemingly cheap pieces that could never amount to anything great were all built together into an intrinsically beautiful structure. The house was still being designed and decorated, but was already a sight to behold. It’s all I saw when I looked at the picture; it’s all most people saw when they looked into this picture.
But then I decided to zoom out in my daydream.
There were more candy houses just like the other one, but the further the picture zoomed out, the more the houses almost disappeared, eclipsed by the most beautiful, wild landscaping: Deep forest, glistening river, shining sun.
You could still see the candy house, but it was such a small piece of the whole picture.
Sometimes my life feels like that candy house.
In fact, someone told me once that God gave them a picture of a candy house when they were praying for me. When I look at my life, I see this homemade tour, this ministry of unlikely odds and ends, pieced together into something unexpectedly beautiful, something only the Master Builder could craft. And eventually I hope it provides a place for other lives to begin finding their meaning and purpose and beauty.
But the thing is: Sometimes when I look at my life, this “candy house” eclipses all else.
Sometimes I feel as though I’m known as the girl who had an eating disorder. Or the girl who loves girls ministry. Which is true, but sometimes I wonder where the rest of me is.
But then I get God’s much, much greater perspective.
There’s so much more to my life than just a candy house, or candy village. There’s so much more than this tour and ministry, because He sees the whole of me, and these things I’m doing are just one tiny part, eclipsed by the beauty of my adventure with Him.
There are forests with treetops touching, with hidden, mysterious paths beneath, paths were I walk in hiddenness and stillness and obscurity with Him.
There are rivers of refreshing, joy, and peace.
There are all the little quirks and crannies of this personality and life He’s given.
In His eyes, this ministry and story of overcoming an eating disorder is such a small little corner of the huge, beautiful picture He’s creating. And perhaps the candy house isn’t nearly as important as I think it is. Maybe the important part is the adventure He and I share.
What is the one part of you that seems to define the whole of you?
Sometimes it feels like our whole life becomes wrapped up in that one mistake we made, or in the work we’re doing, or in overcoming a huge struggle, or in one small part of our personality. Together let’s step back into grace and ask God, “What’s my candy house, and where does it fit in the big picture? What is the true me that you see inside?”