Polished Like Silver
(By Rachel Joyce)
I’ve spent the better part of two evenings this week polishing our silver. You don’t want to know how long it has been gathering tarnish. Some pieces were hardly recognizable as silver.
But my son is getting married. So in the middle of COVID-19, we are planning a wedding for just my kids, my husband and me, and the bride. Not the way I anticipated celebrating the marriage of my eldest son. I was in the grocery store today texting my son to see which type of fresh pasta he wanted for the pasta course, only the plastic gloves they gave me at the entrance made it so difficult to text. And it felt like the world had slowed as I tried to type the letters which didn’t want to respond. My heart was trying to hold onto the joy for my son uniting with the love of his life as I pressed my phone over and over. And people walked around me, giving me a wide berth. Except for those who walked too close and stressed me out. We had waited in line for quite a while to get into the store, so I wanted to make sure we got all we needed for his special meal. Help me, Lord. I need You. Lord, this is not what I had thought it would be. How can I be planning a special day, a feast while the world suffers? My friend’s father has COVID-19. The shooting in Nova Scotia this week; so many lives are shattered. My heart agonizes with the suffering all around me. How do I hold such joy and sorrow? Hold me in the shadow of Your wings, Lord. Nowhere else is safe. My fears will overwhelm me if I don’t lift them up to You. I’m so thankful for the time I’ve had to pray with my sisters this week. No time is as sweet as time spent communing with You. “Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. This I declare about the LORD: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I trust Him” (Psalm 91:1-2). You let chronic pain be part of my story so I would be drawn closer to You. You’ve held me tightly and taught me to lean my weakness into Your great strength. And I’m so thankful, so grateful for Your closeness, for Your power. And I lean heavily, knowing I’m loved. And as I pause, wondering whether to buy tortellini or ravioli, I remember that You care about the angst of my heart. You know how weak we are. You remember “We are only dust” (Psalm 103:14). That’s why there’s grace. Poured out lavishly, abundantly upon us, the needy. And when I’m hit with a wave of grief, over how different things are from how I wish they were, I can hide away in You. You are my safe refuge. Your heart feels my sorrow and You never despise me for my grief. You turn my eyes and my heart to You, my Lord of glory. And it’s ok. It’s all ok. You are working and You will work. We are all in Your hand. I can trust that You will comfort the grieving. You hold us all and want us to find our all in You. As I polished the silver, I thought of Your work in our lives. It started out so brownish and ugly. I wasn’t sure it would ever look nice, but I applied the polish and rubbed. And rubbed. And rubbed. The cloths turned black and little by little, the silver began to gleam.
I’m so thankful that You never give up on us. No matter how dark or far from redemption our lives may seem, You keep working. You hold us in Your hands and gently work. Sometimes we wince and even wonder if it’ll make any difference, but it does. You rub away the tarnish in our lives. You lovingly work so that Your reflection can be seen in us. And that’s what we want—to reflect Your glory. So we accept what You’ve allowed and pray that You will continue to work in us until we gleam with Your reflection. So keep polishing us, Lord. Polish us like silver. We praise and adore You, our glorious Lord.
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