Another bright blue square was added to the crazy mix,

Though adding more and more squares wasn’t what was going to fix

The holes in the square that the blue was now bound to.

But it somehow seemed right, so there joined the new blue.

This strange quilt was built with varying pieces

Of differing shapes and colors and fleeces.

Some squares were perfect, others quite misshapen,

But each bit of fabric had a very clear place in

The strange, giant blanket of new and old,

Of brilliant and tattered, of grey and of gold.

“Now what is this cover, how came it to be?

How long has taken to become what I see?”

Being met with no answer, I picked up the cloth,

I examined it closely, admiring the multicolor swaths.

I held the new blue piece carefully in my hands,

Feeling the softness and smoothness of all the strands.

The color was brilliant, the material unknown,

It shimmered in the light, as though it came from a throne.

Somehow, in a moment, I suddenly knew:

This piece meant fulfillment, that’s why it was blue.

And the brilliant shimmer meant a goal achieved,

The dazzling glimmer of a dream that was received.

I stared at the blanket before me, confused and in shock.

Unsure of what just happened, I stood still, not daring to talk.

With a determined breath, I slowly shifted my hands to the left,

Moving from the glistening blue square to a tattered golden mess.

I ran my fingers along the rough edges, and glided them over the holes.

Though in shambles, this piece was once nice, the golden fabric told.

Before I could wonder what happened to this square, it happened again:

I somehow knew that it was love and happiness that once had been.

Like a vision before my eyes, I saw it in tact and completely whole.

It’s beauty was almost too much; it looked more precious than gold.

Radiant beams seemed to almost emanate from within the square itself.

It seemed so full of life, and contained more value than the greatest wealth.

But without a warning, my eyes witnessed a horrendous incident:

I saw the magnificent square being ripped apart by an evil that wouldn’t relent.

For what seemed like an eternity, I watched the golden piece be destroyed.

I stood frozen in silence, the sound of ripping fabric being the only noise.

As I stood, gazing at the remains of a once-beautiful square,

A few single tears fell from my eyes in a quiet sort of despair.

The once-magnificent piece of utmost happiness and love

Lay mangled before me seemingly surrounded by blood.

My hands quivered as I tenderly held the fabric for few moments,

But something pushed me onwards, so I moved on from those golden contents.

I continued to the left, arriving upon a nasty and disgusting piece:

Sopping wet, covered in filth, and covered in old stains of grease.

As I held the cloth between my fingers, grey water came out flowing,

And the squishy sound of the dirty fabric just seemed to keep on going.

Just as before, I became aware of what I held in my hands:
This greyish-black square represented a sin that still stands.

Confusion arose, and I felt extremely lost and quite unsettled,

So I dropped the strange blanket, my mind in a rather bewildered fettle.

As soon as the quilt landed on the ground, I heard a strange Voice.

It asked, “What do you think?” to which an answer seemed the right choice.

“Who are you? What is this? What have my eyes seen?” I began to inquire,

But the Voice answered: “I AM”, which made me grow still and much quieter.

The Voice asked again, “What do you think?” and this time I gave a reply:

“I don’t know, Lord; it seems good, and bad, and has beauty, yet I saw a piece die.”

“Do you like it?” the Voice continued. (At this point, I’m sure my face was amusing.)

“I don’t understand it, Lord. It’s all just so strange and extremely confusing.”

I looked over the quilt once more, noticing the thousands of varying colors,

And I wondered if every little patch was completely different, one to another.

“Beloved,” the Voice spoke out once more, “I love this blanket dearly.

This quilt represents your life, and I’ve shown it for you to understand clearly.

Each patch represents a different moment from the entirety of your life,

Moments of gladness, moments of mourning, of triumph and of strife.”

“But Lord,” I interrupted, “this blanket is a mess! Is it desirable? Is it shameful?”

The Voice replied tenderly, “It is just as you have said, it is awkward yet graceful.

This is a patchwork of righteousness and sin, of glory and of shame,

This is a patchwork far from perfection, yet I love it all the same.

Here, look now upon the quilt. You will see the blanket from My eyes.”

I looked, and what was once a crazy patchwork met me with a surprise.

The blanket was now a glistening white, unlike anything I had ever seen.

It was spotless, perfect, seamless, stainless, and above all, completely clean.

I ran my hands over the blanket. It was the softest thing I had ever felt.

‘This is how He sees me?’ I thought. That idea made my heart melt.

“When I look on you,” declared the Voice, “I see a blanket that's entirely new.

The old patchwork is completely gone. The old sin and stains are removed.

For by My Son’s death and life, and because of your belief in Me,

Your patchwork is covered by the Quilt that is healing for the redeemed.

Though sometimes the patchwork of your life might be the only thing you see,

Remember that I see My Son, and by Him, you are a new creation indeed.”