Painting

My earthly father is a painter. He’s an astonishing one at that. In our old playroom back home, almost every inch of wall is covered with his finished artwork. Pieces he spent days, weeks, or even months completing. We recently were on vacation and for a week he couldn’t paint. While we were there, he didn’t long to be in the playroom gazing on every finished piece of art he had done. He longed to be PAINTING. 

I’m not him, so I can’t say what delights him the most, but I have observed him much throughout my life; and while he looks at and observes most of his finished paintings with satisfaction - his true delight is the actual painting. It’s the process. 

It’s the days that he can put on his old grungy clothes, go upstairs into his studio, blast all kinds of ridiculously loud music, and stare at a half painted canvas. Those are the days he longs for.  Those are the days that he delights in. 

I’ve seen the fear of not being ‘finished’ hold more people back than I can count. 

I used to be one of them. 

I’m not ‘finished’ so I don’t have anything to offer right now. 

I’m not finished, I’m not 100% good, So I can’t walk out of the court room where the Judge just declared me PARDONED. He has given me another chance, ANOTHER LIFE, and I can’t walk out in it because I know I am going to mess it up. 

I can’t sit at the dinner table with my Dad, because I’m not ‘finished’ enough to be present myself in His presence. 

When will stop trying to finish ourselves ? I can’t wait until I deem myself good enough to present myself before God. That day will never come ! 

Humility and meekness. 
Seeing yourself exactly the way the Father sees you, nothing more, nothing less, and giving Him the power to correct you (to create, to paint, to shape, to mold) without defending yourself. 

It’s not really about how I see myself. It’s about how He sees me. It’s about His heart. While I’m freaking out that I’m not finished, He is delighting in the creating. He has put on His old grungy clothes and is rocking out upstairs, simply delighted to have an unfinished canvas in front of Him. 

He sees the slums of Kampala, the suburbs of America, and every where in between; His heart doesn’t sigh heavily over us and He doesn’t declare us “unfinished.” He rolls up His sleeves, turns up the music, and gets excited to paint. It’s His delight to paint. It’s His delight to create. 

He’s not losing hope at how “unfinished” we appear to be. 
He’s calling out to the warriors, to the fearless bride, to the children of hope, to the fierce hearts of prayer, “ Come and paint with me ! ” 

“But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.” Isaiah 64:8



My earthly father's creations...