Beauty from Ashes
Imagine Tamar: grief-stricken,sobbing,ashes on her head. Her body in a heap on the cold floor. Soot covers her beautiful face and smears the rich colors of her torn robe. Her outward appearance echoes the cavernous darkness in her soul. She is nothing but a tomb.
Beauty from Ashes
The door of her room slowly creeps open. A stream of cloudy sunlight pours through the door. A figure of a man takes form within it. Not Absolom. No, she would recognize Absolom anywhere. Her heart jumps with awakening terror, then the figure steps through the door and His visage becomes clear. Tamar has never seen Him before, yet He looks so familiar. Not frightening. And she should be frightened. No man should be entering her chamber. She should run,but she cannot seem to move.
She glances down at the hands that seem paralyzed on her lap, suddenly shamefully aware of her ash covered appearance. Wretchedness sears her heart. She is certain that her violated state is obvious. She despises herself.
"Tamar", the man speaks gently and with warm familiarity.
Her heart sobs, "She is dead!" A slave of shame has taken her place.
He approaches and takes her face in His hands. No one has ever done that before. The overwhelming intimacy turns her face crimson, not with shame but with vulnerability. His thumbs sweep over her cheeks and wipe her tears from her face. As He takes His hands from her face and places them on her head, her throat aches with fresh cries as she sees the filth on His hands. Her filth. He draws back His hands, and she senses something on her head. Perhaps in His mercy He has hooded her disgrace.
The man offers her His hands, still covered with soot, and she takes them. Suddenly she is standing. Trembling. He leads her to the brass mirror hung on the wall. She turns her face away. He lifts her chin. She gives the mirror only a glance. Her heart is startled. She begins to stare. Her face is creamy white. Her cheeks are blushed with beauty. Her eyes are clear and bright. A crown sits on her head, and a veil flows from its jewels to her shoulders. Her torn coat is gone. A garment of fine white linen graces her neck and adonrs her frame. The King's daughter, pure and undefiled. Beauty from ashes.
Written by Beth Moore "Breaking Free"
Find the story of Tamar in 2 Sam 13