There are certain fragrances that instantly transport us through time.
Freshly cut hay.
Apple pie cooling on the counter.
A campfire on an autumn evening.
And, for reasons that remain one of God’s more delightful mysteries, a brand-new box of crayons.
I suspect every child heading off to school today will eventually encounter one.
There it sits on the desk—sixty-four little sticks of optimism, arranged in military formation, all with names far more imaginative than simply “blue” or “green.” There is Periwinkle. Burnt Sienna. Cerulean. Macaroni and Cheese. Whoever named crayons clearly enjoyed life.
The remarkable thing about a new box of crayons is that every colour is still perfect.
The points are sharp.
The paper wrappers are smooth.
Not one has been broken in half.
No mysterious brownish-grey crayon has yet emerged from excessive enthusiasm in the colouring department.
That comes later.
Children are wonderfully optimistic about such things. Give them a blank sheet of paper and a new box of crayons, and they immediately assume something beautiful is about to happen.
Adults are not always so certain.
By September many of us already carry a fair collection of unfinished sketches. Plans that never quite worked. Conversations we wish we had handled differently. Dreams that somehow became postponed for another season. We can begin to imagine that the page has become too cluttered for anything beautiful.
Yet Scripture has always insisted otherwise.
Our God seems remarkably fond of fresh beginnings.
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning.” (Lamentations 3:22–23)
Every morning.
Not merely every January.
Not simply every September.
Every single morning.
That means God never looks at our lives and sighs, “Well, there isn’t much I can do with that drawing now.”
Instead, the Creator gently picks up another colour.
Another possibility.
Another grace.
When Jesus encountered people whose lives appeared hopelessly smudged by failure, he rarely erased the picture.
He redeemed it.
Peter denied him three times.
Paul had persecuted Christians.
Mary Magdalene carried burdens no one else understood.
Thomas doubted.
Yet Christ somehow incorporated every one of those dark lines into a picture of astonishing beauty.
That is what grace does.
Grace is not pretending mistakes never happened.
Grace is discovering that God can still create beauty around them.
Children understand this instinctively.
Watch them colour.
They are fearless.
Purple cows?
Certainly.
Orange trees?
Why not?
Blue grass?
Apparently it seemed like an excellent idea at the time.
They have not yet learned the unfortunate adult habit of worrying whether every line is perfect before they begin.
Somewhere along the journey we convince ourselves that everything must be flawless before it can be offered to God.
The Gospel says almost exactly the opposite.
Bring what you have.
Bring your imperfect sketch.
Bring the pages with crossed-out plans.
Bring the colours that don’t seem to match.
Bring the places where life wandered outside the lines.
The Master Artist has never been intimidated by untidy canvases.
Indeed, the Cross itself looked like the darkest colour imaginable until Easter morning revealed that God had been painting resurrection all along.
So as children return to classrooms today, opening fresh notebooks and brand-new boxes of crayons, perhaps they are quietly preaching to the rest of us.
Do not be afraid of the blank page.
Do not assume yesterday determines today’s possibilities.
Do not underestimate what God can create with ordinary colours placed into willing hands.
The Teacher of heaven and earth is still inviting us to make something beautiful—not because our hands are perfect, but because his grace is.
And perhaps, before this September is over, we’ll discover that some of the most beautiful colours in our lives were the ones we had almost forgotten were still in the box.
Follow along on Instagram @renewablespiritual for more daily reflections on faith, life, and the surprising places where God still loves to meet us.
Companion Prayer
Gracious God,
Thank you for being the Master Artist who never gives up on us. When we see only our mistakes, help us to trust that your grace is still at work, bringing beauty from every imperfect line. Give us the courage to begin again, the faith to embrace each new day as your gift, and the wisdom to see fresh possibilities where we expected only disappointment.
As children return to school today, bless them with curiosity, joy, and confidence. Bless their teachers with patience and encouragement, and bless every family as they settle into new routines.
May we all remain lifelong students of your love, learning each day to colour our lives with compassion, hope, generosity, and faith.
In the name of Jesus Christ, the One who is making all things new.
Amen.