Ashcraft: When God Builds Beauty from Burned Places
Builds: You Are Still Becoming—And That’s Sacred Work
Brave enough to face my past
Unwilling to shrink for others’ comfort
Intentional with my healing
Learning to love myself daily
Dedicated to becoming whole
Standing in my strength, not my shame
When What You Build Isn’t Just What You Make—But Who You Become
There was a season in my life where everything on the outside looked… well, fine. Even fruitful.
I was building programs. Building conversations. Building connections.
Every meeting, every mile, every message—it all felt like movement.
But somewhere deep in the quiet, after the work was done and the people had gone home, I started asking myself a question I didn’t really want to answer:
“What part of me is actually growing from this? And what part is just performing?”
It wasn’t that I was faking.
It wasn’t that the work didn’t matter.
It’s that I had become so focused on what I was producing, I forgot to nurture the person doing the producing.
That hit hard.
I remember sitting one morning in stillness—no music, no noise—just me, my thoughts, and a tired soul that had been pouring out for so long, it had forgotten how to pour in. And in that moment, I didn’t hear a booming voice or get a lightning bolt of insight. I just got quiet enough to notice the gap.
The gap between my doing and my becoming.
And that’s when it clicked:
The real work isn’t just about what I build. It’s about what’s being built in me.
Somewhere along the way, I had mistaken activity for development.
I had gotten used to defining progress by checklists and accomplishments, instead of healing and humility.
And I realized that I could be admired by others but still not be aligned within myself.
That was the moment the word BUILDS dropped into my spirit—not as a brand, not as a slogan—but as a mirror. A reminder that everything sustainable, sacred, and significant must begin with the inner world.
So I wrote this down—not to preach, but to remind myself what it means to live a life that is truly being built:
Some words don’t just pass through your ears—they settle in your spirit. They sit with you, echoing louder each time you whisper them aloud. Ashcraft was one of those words for me.
It came to me during a quiet morning coffee with my father-in-law—a sacred ritual in our household. We talk about life, family, faith, and the little moments that carry eternal weight. That morning, I was sharing my thoughts about a close friend—someone I deeply admire—whose last name is Ashcraft.
I must have said the name a hundred times before. But on that day, something stirred differently. My heart paused. My mind wandered. And the Holy Spirit whispered, “Look deeper.”
Ash. Craft.
Two words that carry fire and form. Destruction and design. Grief and glory.
And in that moment, I realized this wasn’t just a name.
It was a message.
From Ashes We Begin Again
In Scripture, ashes are a sign of deep sorrow and repentance. In ancient Israel, people would sit in ashes, cover themselves with them, and mourn—acknowledging their humanity, grief, or brokenness before God.
Job, after losing everything, “sat among the ashes” (Job 2:8). Tamar, after being violated, “put ashes on her head” (2 Samuel 13:19). Even the Ninevites, when confronted with their sin, humbled themselves with sackcloth and ashes (Jonah 3:6).
Ashes, in every sense, represented what once was—what was lost, burned, or broken. They symbolized surrender. They whispered, “This is all that’s left.”
And yet, God—being rich in mercy—never leaves us in the ashes.
The Divine Exchange
Isaiah 61:3 offers one of the most profound promises in all of Scripture:
“To provide for those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a crown of beauty for ashes,
the oil of joy for mourning,
and a garment of praise for a spirit of despair.”
God doesn’t just lift us out of the fire. He meets us in the ashes. He doesn’t discard our pain—He exchanges it. He takes what looks like loss and transforms it into legacy. He takes your sorrow and crafts something sacred from it.
That’s Ashcraft.
It’s what the potter does when the clay is crushed. It’s what the carpenter does with splintered wood. It’s what Jesus did with a crucified body—He rose.
The Holy Work of Rebuilding
Let’s be honest: the journey from ashes to empowerment isn’t pretty. It’s slow. It’s sacred. It’s filled with days when you question if you’ll ever feel whole again. When the smell of smoke still lingers and the wreckage feels too heavy to move.
But God is not intimidated by what’s burned.
He is the Craftsman of Redemption.
Ephesians 2:10 says, “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.”
The Greek word for “workmanship” is poiēma—the root of our English word “poem.” You are God’s poem. His art. His creative expression.
That means the ashes of your life—the failed relationships, the fractured identity, the abandonment, the grief, the trauma, the disappointment—they’re not disqualified from the process. In fact, they are part of the raw material.
God is crafting you through every moment, every memory, every season that didn’t go as planned.
He doesn’t build around your pain.
He builds through it.
The Phoenix Myth Meets Holy Resurrection
The world may admire the phoenix—a mythical bird that rises from its own ashes, self-made, self-resurrected. And while the imagery is powerful, Scripture shows us something even deeper.
We don’t rise by our own power. We rise by resurrection.
Romans 8:11 says:
“And if the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, He who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of His Spirit who lives in you.”
This isn’t about “bouncing back.” This is about being raised. Resurrected. Reclaimed.
You don’t craft your new self alone—you co-create with the Creator. And His Spirit breathes into what you thought was dead. Where you see ruin, He sees the foundation of something eternal.
Unapologetically Becoming
I know what it feels like to hide your growth. To feel unsure about your own healing. To shrink your transformation because others are still comfortable with your old version.
But listen to me—God is not ashamed of your process.
You are not too much.
You are not too broken.
You are not too behind.
You are being crafted.
And the more you yield to that process, the more your life becomes a testimony.
Don’t apologize for where you’re going.
Don’t play small because others haven’t seen the vision God gave you.
Don’t stop the crafting because the ashes are still in view.
Let God finish what He started.
A Word to the One Still in the Fire
If you’re still in the fire—keep breathing.
If the smoke hasn’t cleared yet—keep hoping.
If all you can see are ashes—remember this: ashes are proof something happened, but they’re also the beginning of something new.
The enemy wants you to believe your ash is the end of your story.
But God says it’s the beginning of your becoming.
Ashcraft.
It’s the anointed art of resurrection.
It’s where God meets you in the middle and says, “Watch what I can do with this.”
Final Thoughts: Let Him Work
You may not have chosen the fire. But you get to choose what happens with the ashes. Will you let them sit? Or will you surrender them into the hands of the only One who can turn mourning into dancing?
This isn’t just encouragement. This is a calling.
To rise.
To rebuild.
To own your process.
And to recognize that empowerment doesn’t come from perfection—it comes from surrender.
Let God craft you.
Unapologetically.
Faithfully.
Powerfully.
Beautifully.
Because you, my friend, are His masterpiece in motion.
—Casey Muze
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