Day 359: Revelation 19:1–10

The marriage of the Lamb has come, and His wife has prepared herself. She was permitted to wear fine linen, bright and pure (vv. 7–8).

As I was preparing for our twentieth wedding anniversary, for the life of me I could not think of what I wanted to get my husband. He’s a very sentimental man. You have to get him something sentimental because if he can afford it, he already owns anything he wants. So I just said, “God, you need to tell me what I can get my man. I need a really great idea.” Honestly, I prayed and prayed over this. Then God began suggesting something to my heart.

He started bringing to my mind the early part of our marriage and the pain of my wedding day. I don’t know how to explain this to you, but trust me when I say that it was an extremely hard day for me. I didn’t really understand why until many, many years later. I was feeling so much shame on my wedding day because it was a day I was supposed to feel beautiful. And I did not feel beautiful.

I had even gone to a lot of trouble to make absolutely sure that I had an off-white dress instead of a white one, because I didn’t want to be a lie. Some of you are already hurting because you know what I’m talking about. It’s a horrible feeling. Nothing about that day seemed beautiful to me.

When I was a little girl, I had pictured that when I got married I would have a huge wedding portrait, and it would hang over our blazing fireplace. Well, the nearest thing we had to a fireplace was a heater in the bathroom. And I didn’t even have money enough for a photographer. I just spent the bare minimum. I didn’t even buy my dress; I just rented it. You know, it just was not the kind of day you picture.

So as I contemplated our twentieth anniversary, the Lord began scratching at this a little bit. He said, “You know, Beth,” and of course He was speaking to my heart, “you never did get that picture made.”

“What picture?”

“That wedding portrait.”

“Well, it’s a little too late now, isn’t it?”

“Who said?”

The Lord put it on my heart that it was time. He said, “My darlin’, we have done so much work. I have restored you. And it is time for you to put on a white wedding gown and get your picture taken for your husband.”

So I called a friend of mine who’s a makeup artist in Houston, a very godly young woman. I knew she would have a fit. She squealed on the phone and jumped up and down. I said, “You can’t tell anyone, Shannon. This is our secret.” She said, “I’ll set up everything. You just show up and I’ll have it all ready.” That’s exactly what I did. And I’m going to tell you something, she hid me in a room and would not let me see a mirror. She had my dress sparkling white from head to toe. Zipped that thing up nice and tight. Did my makeup. Did my hair. Put on my veil. Then she pulled me out and brought me in front of the mirror. And I nearly died.

I couldn’t even recognize myself. The photographer was so tender that his eyes were continually filled with tears. He said, “I’ve got to be honest with you. I’ve never taken a picture of a bride this old.” Sheepishly catching his faux pas, he said, “That’s not what I mean—I mean one that’s been married for so long.” He was right. This was a forty-one-year-old bride who had been married for twenty years.

I had the picture placed in the most ornate gold frame, 20 x 24. Then I had one made for each of my daughters. I wrote the same letter to Keith and the girls, explaining what the portrait meant to me.

The night of our anniversary, I had the girls stay with us, and I presented Keith with this picture, then presented their pictures to them. They all read their letters at the same time. My husband began to weep. He stood up with that picture, and he began walking all over the house, holding it up to places on the wall.

He would stop at one place and shake his head no, then stop at another and shake his head no. Finally he walked right over to a particular part of the wall. The girls and I caught our breath because we knew what he was looking at. He set the picture down. Then gathering his courage, he pulled his trophy deer off the wall.

As I live and breathe, he had tears streaming down his cheeks, and I thought, “He’s crying over that deer.” But he hung that picture up right there, and it still hangs there today. He stepped back and said, “That is the trophy of my life.” A restored bride. And that is what every single one of us can be—fully restored, fully prepared. For our Groom.