looking through me

My image of God is shaped by His roles: Father, Judge, Redeemer, Shepherd, Savior. Yet lately one role has been more prevalent than the others . . . Artist.

I watch Him paint the sunrise morning after morning. I feel Him molding and sculpting me. Some days He seems to do more editing—more tweaking and wordsmith-ing—than writing.

But He is always creating. The artistry didn’t end when the first six days of creation were declared good.

He isn’t an artist because He made something beautiful once upon a time. He isn’t living off residuals. He isn’t parading around the gallery pontificating about His long-completed works.

No, He is still in the studio.

Today He scripts grace and truth into the story.
Today He chisels calloused hearts.
Today He weaves good into grief.
Today He pastes peace onto the collage of chaos.
Today He feeds the deepest hunger.
Today He holds the tension of minor chords before resolving them at the perfect moment.
Today He sands selfish edges into compassion-rounded corners.
Today He sings over His children.
Today He mixes the colors of hardship and pain with hope and joy.
Today He builds refuges for overwhelmed souls.
Today He knits together the future.
Today He speaks life.

Today the Artist is at work. And it is good.