PURPOSEFULLY TRIMMED

Laid out--ready to pick up and sew

My creative life over the past decade-plus has been defined by a five-inch square. Forty-nine (arranged 7x7) have gone into each of the hundreds of patchwork baby blankets I've sewn and given away to charity. I tell that, not to brag, but to suggest that day by day, week by week, we're assembling a lifetime of character. The squares of life according to God's plan will fit together in glory to Him. The ones that don't follow God's best plan will pucker and distort.

Just as I follow a “plan” in my quilting (which is super-simple in comparison with the quilts with blue ribbons on them at quilt shows!), God has a plan for our lives. And His plan is good.

I was reminded of that truth—“God's plan is good”—as I read Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones' book, Spiritual Depression: Its Causes and Cures (Eerdmans, 1965). He pointed out that while God's plan is good, it isn't necessarily the easy life we'd prefer. We're raw material—piles of random fabric—that need trimmed to fit God's plan. But that's not a fun process. “God disciplines us for our good,” says Hebrews 12:10, “that we may share in His holiness.”

Snip, snip—the attitudes and behaviors we cling to, have to be cut away for God's pattern. That includes bitterness over life's trials, troubles, and chastisement. No surprise: that negative character quality gets special attention in the same chapter:

See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many. (12:15)

Lloyd-Jones adds:

I know nothing that is so sad in life, certainly there is nothing sadder in my life and work and experience as a minister of God, than to watch the effect of trials and troubles on the lives of some people. I have known people who, before the misfortunes befell them, seemed to be very nice and friendly, but I have observed that when these things happen they become bitter, self-centered, difficult—difficult even with those who try to help them and who are anxious to help them. They turn in upon themselves and they feel that the whole world is against them. You cannot help them, the bitterness enters into their souls, it appears in their faces and their very appearance. (pp. 250-251)

No believer is immune from hardship or even spiritual chastisement from God. What matters, Lloyd-Jones wrote, is how we respond: with anger and bitterness or a trusting, humble heart.

God has the bigger picture of how we can serve and glorify Him. He has a good plan for all those random pieces of our lives. When I trim scraps into squares, then stand in front of the bed where I've opened my big cutting board and start laying out the “pattern,” I seek to create pleasing patterns of color and “motion” (plain v. busy fabrics). In short, I want them to be “fun” for babies to look at.

When I bring that analogy to my own life, and think back over how God has worked through my education and experience, celebrations and sorrows, I affirm that He makes no mistakes. And even though I don't understand why I had to go through certain difficult experiences, I know that someday it will be made clear. As Ephesians 2:10 says, I am His “workmanship,” created in Christ Jesus to do “good works.” Uniquely “patched together” in His master plan.

Scraps

The tattooed young man giving his testimony at my church didn’t try to hide the messy details. He grew up in a dysfunctional home. Got into substance abuse. Sold drugs. Fathered a child with his girlfriend. He ended up in prison....where he found a Bible and started reading it. Ended up trusting Christ to turn his life around. Able now to say, “Jesus saved me.  I’m headed in the right direction.”  I’d rather hear that, than this, which I've also heard from a young adult: “I grew up going to church. I hate my life.  I hate my mom/dad. God hasn’t been fair to me. I pray and nothing happens. Just leave me alone.”

The first person is holding out the ragged scraps of his life, saying, “Jesus, use these as you wish.”  The second person is clutching rotted rags, unwilling to let God trim and rearrange to craft “a new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

My ministry “hobby” involves scraps of flannel or soft cotton, which I find at yard sales or thrift stores or am given. I cut them into five-inch squares, which I sew together, seven rows across and seven down.  These create a "patchwork" side to go with a one-yard piece of soft backing fabric. With batting between, the sides are joined with yarn ties at each square and stitching around the edges. Two hours later a new baby blanket emerges, destined with others for a local hospital to be distributed to babies born to needy families. In the last five years, I have sewn and given away more than 600. 

Redeemed-scraps-turned-blankets finished and delivered in July

Six hundred? Gasp. My initial “big goal” was fifty.  But when God calls you to a task, He will carry you through it until He pronounces it “done” or sees that you need to take a break (which is now my situation). So what does this have to do with the ragged scraps of a human life? It's this: God wastes nothing.  Those who come to God, sadly holding the scraps of their lives, can experience Jesus as Redeemer. He is a Master at trimming and fitting those scraps into something new, beautiful, and useful in His kingdom. It may hurt and cut and prick at times, but it's all part of His master pattern.  For unique beauty, and service for Him.

"I can use that!"

I am in awe of Quilters—the Capital Q type—who turn fabric into art. I tried to Quilt (capital Q) but my mismatched corners caused weeping and gnashing of teeth. Simple patchwork quilts are my style! I’ve created hundreds, mostly baby quilts, from discarded fabric. I have a saying, “I could use that,” when folks offer me their sewing scraps. And when I finish off a quilt by tying the patchwork corners with yarn, then sewing a self-binding, I often think of a spiritual lesson.

It’s this: God is the greatest quilter and binder-upper! I draw this from Isaiah 61, where Isaiah had prophesied of Messiah who would minister to the broken and hurting. Fresh off the proving grounds of His desert temptations, Christ read that passage in His local synagogue, then declared, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:21).

I’m especially drawn to the second part of Isaiah 61:2: “He has sent me to bind up the broken hearted.” When only scraps are left of our lives, we may feel useless to God. We might think He can do nothing with the strips and odd pieces left after hardship or bad choices mess up our lives. But remember, Christ is the Redeemer. He knows how to redeem those scraps to a useful purpose. It requires some trimming…of certain habits, defeatist attitudes, worry, bitterness, laziness or other negative aspects of our character. But every swift cut is part of how He “fits” us into His greater plan.

In His wisdom, the dark pieces are just as useful as the bright ones, the plain ones as the ornate ones. I’ve watched people turn their greatest pain from bad relationships or difficult circumstances into something positive to help others in the spiritual journey. He can even “bind up” the hidden parts of our lives—I’m thinking of the quilt batting inside, which sometimes I also piece--turning heartache into the soft trait of gentleness.

After cutting fabric scraps into five-inch squares, I begin joining them, row upon row. I try to make sure dark colors are distributed throughout the quilt, not in one place. Christians are not exempt from dark times, but unlike non-believers, we have a Father who knows how much we can handle. Psalm 30:5 says: “Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” That’s the favorite verse of a friend who suffers daily with severe post-polio pain, but who seeks the joy in every day.

Thus it’s appropriate that the baby quilts I sewed this past year from bits and pieces, for the hospital to give those in need (see July 6 blog on birthday blankets), be “patchwork.” When the Lord sees a life reduced to scraps, He says, “I can use that!” When He binds up the brokenhearted, He creates a masterpiece.

Parable of the Patchwork Blanket

(Over several decades I have sewn hundreds of patchwork baby blankets. Last week as I sewed another, I thought of a parable.)

I found you, Little Scrap. How long were you hiding in that messy bin at the thrift store? I have come to give you a new life and purpose.

Oh, thank you, Threadsmith. I have heard of you. But I wondered if you would ever come here. I mean, this is just one of so many places where rejected things come. The clothes, books, and furniture—they don’t stay here long. But my cousins and I wait, and wait. The bigger cousins are lifted out and taken somewhere. But the little ones like me—nobody buys us. Maybe it’s my crazy shape. I’m just good for nothing.

I don’t think so, Little Scrap. I know just where you belong.

Threadsmith! You paid so much more than I’m worth! Why did you do that?

Because you are valuable to Me. I wanted others to know how precious you are.

Oh,Threadsmith, is this your workshop? The machines, the cutting surface, the rainbow of threads, the drawers of fabrics—it is greater than I could have imagined!

Thank you. I enjoy creating, you know.

Ow! How can you do that to me? It’s so hot, this iron you’re pressing on me!

Trust me, Little Scrap, this is the first step. The heat will uncrumple your beauty and help me fit you into the bigger plan.

That’s better now, Threadsmith. I think I’ll just rest and cool off on your cutting board.

Hold still, Little Scrap.

No, no, no, what is that sharp thing? You’re hurting me, you’re cutting part of me off. Why are you doing that?

Oh, Little Scrap. I needed to trim away your raggedness. Parts of your “old” shape won’t fit into my greater plan for you. Look over at this pile of other scraps. They accepted the cutting away of what didn’t fit in My purposes. You’ll understand, soon.

Ouch, ouch, ouch! Now you are poking holes in my sides and joining me to cloths I never met. You know I’m not the social type.

My plan is that you live in community. Together you can do much more than you can alone. Keep trusting me as my needles stitch you to a pattern comprised of you and others.

Oh Theadsmith, there are dozens of us now, all joined. Ah, now there is a softness underneath me.

You cannot see it, Little Scrap, but there is a large piece of fabric at the very bottom. Then comes this cloud-soft batting, that you and those joined to you are now resting on. But we’re not done yet.

Ouch! Threadsmith, why are you poking big needles with streamers of yarn in us? Oh, it hurts when you pull.

Yes, I know the yarn is thick. I am using it to join what I call the fabric sandwich—the trimmed-to-fit “you” joined to others, the cloud, and the large piece of fabric. They cannot remain separated. The piercing is part of my plan. Didn’t you hear about my Son? Piercing was part of the plan for Him, too.

More poking? Hundreds of pokes around the edges of all-of-us-together?

Almost done, Little Scrap. Except I have renamed you. You are now Chosen Color, part of my wise plan.
----
“A patchwork blanket?” said the receiver of the gift. “You sewed this for me? Look at all those colors and patterns! It’s beautiful. I love patchwork. It’s a reminder of how God loves us despite our raggedness. He lovingly trims away so that we fit into His great, beautiful plan. Every square is unique but fits into the whole. How fitting that this is a blanket. Every time I lay under it, I’ll remember how I’m covered by His love.”

Patchwork

Photo: my latest patchwork baby quilt project.
I was at the fabric store a few weeks ago and ran into a friend who runs a fruit stand. During the slow winter season she sews aprons to sell in their gift line, so was shopping for cheerful fabric to stitch up more.

“Do you still make those baby patchwork blankets?” she asked. One of her sons was a blanket recipient two decades ago.

“Yes,” I admitted. I’ve lost count, but know I’ve sewn more than 200 over the years. Because each blanket is comprised of eighty five-inch squares, I’m always looking for bright, fresh cottons for a nice variety.

“Would you like some scraps?” she added.

Do cats like cat treats? Do dogs like bones?

Twice in the next few weeks she dropped off the scraps from her latest projects. It was just what I needed to chase the gray winter blues. Some people may get excited about sky-diving, exploring sunken wrecks, or climbing Mount Everest. As for me, just give me an old bag of scraps, my rolling cutter and my well-scarred cutting board.

Random patchwork may not be everybody’s idea of “beautiful,” but it is mine. I enjoy the vibrancy of color and design. The baby quilts are also a great tool for teaching children their colors and names of objects. But what I like best is the spiritual symbolism of patchwork. People without a spiritual focus are like a bag of scraps. A corner, a length on the fold, cutouts—by themselves, they’re not of much use.

But give those scraps to the Master Designer, the One whose fingers touched the earth to bring forth amazing mountains, lakes, flowers, animals, sea life and so much more. Kindly, deftly, He lays His perfect pattern on those motley pieces. If they could talk, they might say “Ouch!” as they’re cut to size. But they need to trust that each cut is made with compassion and purpose. Finally, He joins them together to make something lovely out of the world’s discards.

I’ve seen it happen to real people, over and over. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Beauty from scraps. That’s God’s way.