“I have part of a leftover sandwich,” I said, digging the sorry remains out of my pocket and offering it to him. He gestured to the others and placed it on the ledge beneath the cemented window, beside a chipped old plastic toy bird that some child must have left there.
Although the tractor was pulling us up the mountain, that destination and view had nothing to be desired, for it was but a charred wasteland. The best that man can offer by his own efforts are nothing but filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6) or dung (Philippians 3:8) compared with God’s abundant provision (Philippians 4:19). He alone can give us beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness, to His glory! (Isaiah 61:3).