The Beauty God Sees in Youنموونە

Eulogy at the Kitchen Sink

One arm up now, darling. And then the other. Let me take off these bindings. They are heavy and not for you. No, you are not meant to wear this shroud.

You are light and carefree, and you need to give me the bindings now. I lift them off of you. One remnant of cloth and then the next— invisible and strong so you can scarcely move.

You are made to move with me, my love. I sing to you a song your heart knows, for you are not forgotten. I see you. I see your beauty. I behold you, and I behold your light, and I remove the shrouds so your light can freely shine.

I know these grave clothes are what you feel you’ve always worn, at least for too many years. You can’t remember not worrying, not wondering how to love her so she would love you the way you needed to be loved.

But you never told her how much you loved her, and you scarcely let me love you. And now the grave clothes are too heavy, and the gravestone is marked, etched with a testimony I did not write for you.

May I share with you the testimony, the eulogy, I want to write on your heart, a place that is not a grave at all but a light that shines?

This darling one shines brighter than any star I have cast into the heavenly sky. She is more beautiful than a teardrop on her daughter’s cheek, more delicate and strong than the stem of a single rose. I have carried her, and she sees my arms around her when her arms are lifted high.

She lifts them high, and her shroud is gone. Her new clothes are white, and light shines through the garments that flow down from her outstretched arms. They sing, this light.

Her life is music now, and she keeps hands up, fingers outstretched, for she knows what freedom is, how light dances from her as she walks, each step one of beauty, a painting too beautiful and yet completely true.

For she is awake now. She is alive now. Each step now with her king.

I see this, child. Come now. Enter in. What I see is the truest. What I speak is the music your heart needs to hear. Come now. You are free. Shrouds are long gone.

Exercise & Prayer

Be bold now. Get out some paper. Sit in a comfy chair. Write your eulogy. Fill a page or two with a description of who you were, how you spent your life, how people remember you, what they loved about you. Write it the way God would, through the lens by which he sees you. You’re pretty awesome, after all. For real. He’s going to make sure that important fact is communicated. How does God see you?

Father, let your light in. Shine bright on me, on my fears, my heart, my life. I want to see with clear eyes what you see. I want to see your goodness, all the possibilities I can struggle to believe are real, or are for me. You see beauty where there is brokenness. You see light where there is darkness. You see hope where there is despair. I surrender to you my insecurities. One by one . . . here they are . . . (name them). I give you my mind, my heart, my soul. Let me live in the confidence of who I am, the truth of me, only what you see. I claim only what you see. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

We hope this Plan encouraged you! Read the complete conversations with God—and engage more deeply with His heart.