As I looked more closely at the statue, I had the eerie awareness that God had put this here for me, this day, for the sole purpose of my—His—cover. How perfect was it? Here was a young woman (my book began with the story of a woman) who was not only obviously flawed with chips, bumps, breaks, and a whole hand missing, but she was carrying a pot—a vessel—which answered to the verse I had started the book with, 2 Corinthians 4:7, "We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the transcendence of the power may be of God and not of us." The vessel was similar to one that a potter might make. God is the potter and we are the clay.

Even more amazing was the woman’s posture. In spite of her pockmarked face, chipped chin, ruined dress, and being one hand short of a pair, her attitude was one of grace and self-possession. She flowed. She was at peace with her condition! And the expression on her face? She smiled a cherubic smile, content even in the midst of her trouble.

I had searched for sadness, but found joy instead.

I would have driven two thousand miles for the opportunity to photograph this girl, and here she was a stone’s throw from my office, behind a bar next to a birdbath in what appeared to be a trash pile. Oh, the humor of God.

It was such fun photographing her. I photographed as if I were shooting a live model, afraid that if I stopped she would "lose the mood." I photographed her from above, below, from the side. My camera clicked away. She was beautiful, gorgeous. I talked to her: "That’s it, baby. Hold that pose." I was giddy.

I walked back across the road—no, wait, I think I skipped. It’s times like these that I enjoy what I do for a living. How many people get to photograph discarded statues behind bars in the rain at 7 a.m. on a Monday morning and find God-ordained fulfillment in it? For me, this was the highlight of a long dreary winter of work.

Whenever I plug in my digital camera to begin transferring photos to my computer, I’m always nervous. Usually, things never look as good on the screen as I expect them to. Not so this day. As soon as I saw "my girl" light up the monitor, I knew I had it. I whooped like I’d just struck platinum. Even the background was perfect. I hadn’t even considered the background while shooting, assuming I would cut out my model and past her in front of something proper. But even the corrugated metal background seemed perfectly adapted to my use, graduating from darkness at the bottom of the photo to lightness at the top. As I reviewed the dozen or so pictures, I instantly knew which would be my cover.

The remainder of the four hours spent designing the cover were joyous. When I finally got all the pixels arranged, I raced downstairs to the post office to show my friend Myra, the mail clerk. I explained the concept of my book first, then said, "What until you see what I found in this cranky old town." I showed her, and it literally took her breath away. It was just the reaction I was looking for. I told her to breathe, then left.

I hope that not only does this flawed and happy woman arrest you, but that the truths behind her establish you in God’s use of evil. The sorrows in our lives don’t happen to us, but for us. God has our good in mind. Peace comes when we finally stop fighting and learn to accept our imperfections. Many people cannot at first believe that they are flawed by design. Christianity has taught us that we should fight to overcome our failings—and we better hurry before Jesus comes. I offer scriptural evidence that we fail, not because we are bad people, but because God wants us imperfect—for now. Jesus is not returning to congratulate us for being good, but to change these bodies of humiliation and conform them into bodies like His glorious one.

I look forward to that day, with you.

Yours for the eon,

Martin