There Is Beauty in the Ashes
I used to think my spiritual journey was my own idea—my own awakening, my own doing. But the truth is, it had very little to do with my best thinking. Most of the pain, turmoil, and self-inflicted chaos I lived through didn’t guide me toward God… it broke me open enough for God to reach me.
“For my Good” - Maverick City Music
I used to damn those desert valleys
But now I thank You for those droughts
I used to curse the walls around me
But now I see You had it figured out
And it was all working for my good
If only I knew back then what I know right now (oh)
Nothing is wasted in Your hands
God, You didn't forsake me
And I know You never will (oh)
There is beauty in the ashes
There's a peace within the storm
And there's a song for every season
So don't stop singing
On and on until you see the sun
'Cause it was all working for my good
God waited. Patiently. Quietly. Lovingly.
He didn’t force me to change course. He simply waited for the moment when my own strength would finally give out—when the weight of the darkness, the confusion, and the inner torture became too heavy to carry alone.
I don’t recommend the road I took. But I can say this: there is something strangely sacred about reaching the very end of yourself. In those moments when the pain becomes unbearable—when every inch of your body and mind feels like it’s going to shatter—that’s often where the first glimmer of true consciousness appears. A flicker of light. A whisper of hope.
I don’t fully know what happened in that moment. But the suffering, as brutal as it was, became beautiful—because it became the turning point. The exact place where I finally let go… and let God.
We like to convince ourselves that we’re in control of our lives. But in the physical world, we control far less than we think. The only truly permanent thing we’ve ever been given is the one thing God predestined us to have: an eternal soul—untouchable, unbreakable, and unharmed by anything external.
It’s the mind, the ego, and the old unconscious shadow self that make this journey feel impossible. I used to ask God, “Why does it have to be so hard?” And the answer that echoed back was gentle but piercing:
“John… why do you make it so hard?”
Looking back, I can’t say I enjoyed a single moment of the suffering I endured—but I will say this with complete honesty:
It was necessary. It was the doorway. It was the awakening.
And for those who are still suffering, still wrestling with the darkness, still trying to survive on their own strength:
My prayer is that one day you will surrender—fully, completely—into God’s hands. And when you do, you will look back on your greatest hardship with gratitude. Because in God’s world, nothing is wasted. Pain is never pointless. Every fall becomes an invitation to rise in Him.
In this world, suffering may feel endless. But in God’s world, there is only grace, renewal, and a love that does not die. We live on. We rise again. We are held forever.
