But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit.
– 2 Corinthians 3:18
The skeleton lay in its dusty box, long hidden from the sun.
I knelt down and reluctantly opened the lid. A tangle of white metal and miniature lights lay in an inglorious heap. The pre-lit metal tree was supposed to be for outdoor use, but for some reason I can no longer remember, I began putting it up in the little breakfast nook inside the house several years ago.
I lifted a section out of its casket and shook it. It unfolded with an unceremonious rattle. My daughter and I wrestled the rest of it open, assembled the sections, and inspected the tree.
The years outdoors had taken its toll, the original white metal paint now pallid. Rust had settled into its joints.
For a moment I considered putting it back into the box. But we set it in its usual corner and plugged it in. At least the lights worked.
We dressed its stiff branches with glass, silver, and gold ornaments. For a final touch, we hung a dozen glittering acrylic icicles.
It was dark by the time we finished. I stood back and surveyed our work.
And caught my breath.
The dead had come to life. The old metal outdoor tree had been transformed, shimmering with light that danced in the glass and silver and gold. I marveled in its brilliance. I reveled in the power of turning something plain into a new creation.
God rejoices in transforming us.
In the night, when my bones ache over the day’s labor and my heart aches over the day’s sorrows, when all I see is a tangle of worries dumped into the grave of my dreams, I will remember the majesty of transformation. I will thank God for seeing past my weaknesses and old soul. I will trust in His delight in raising the dead, plugging us into the source of His power.
Then the night will dance with new life, shining in the Light.
Oh, rust, where is thy sting?
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