The Artist

“We’re each single threads woven together in a tapestry God has created. Only he sees the full picture.”

-A Voice in the Wind by Francine Rivers

I am a perfect piece of an unimaginable, beautiful picture.

Jeremiah 29:11 is a comforting verse. “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.” Everyone wants a bright future; everyone wants to prosper. When you hear something time and time again though, it can begin to lose its value. Or rather, you begin to lessen your weight and dependency on those words. They become a given, what you know to be true. Because of this familiarity and knowledge, you don’t let the words resonate as they should. You don’t recognize their value.

Tapestry weaving is not a common craft these days. So I’m switching it to something we are much more familiar with: painting. Imagine your favorite painting. One that you could look at for hours, and still notice new strokes. One that you are amazed that a touch of green makes the blue a better blue, or that one particular stroke brings the face to life. We see the product, we see the result of the intentionality and patience and passion. We see the result of the planning and preparation. But the artist witnessed every brush. The artist mixed the perfect combination of colors time and time again to get exactly what they desired. The artist adjusted to what wasn’t pleasing and made it work for their design. The artist poured pieces of themselves into their work. We might cherish the final product, but we feel nothing compared to the pride and ownership and tenderness that the artist might feel.

Us? In this big design, we are just one stroke. Smaller than a stroke, we are the result of one bristle of a stroke from a brush. But without us, the picture is missing something. Whether it be the basework for a future design or the finishing touch, we are necessary to create the masterpiece.

do not know how God intends to use my life. However,  I know he’s already used it greatly thus far, despite my misgivings. Because he’s just that great. He can take the messed-up fragments and make it worth a multitude of weight in gold. I know that he witnesses every brush, both mistakes and perfections. I know that he mixed exactly the combination that he intended in order to create my very spirit. I know that he prunes me, rids me of what doesn’t increase my beauty or fulfill my purpose. I know that he pours himself into me, as much as I will let him, and cherishes me with the utmost tenderness and pride.

I am my very own beautiful design. But yet, I am still a fraction of a piece of a design so spectacular that I can’t even fathom it’s beauty. I get to be part of something beautiful. I am a necessary part of something beautiful.

 You really do have plans for me, don’t you? You let me contribute to your grand design. You let me be a tool. I have no greater hope than that, and I can prosper no more than that. My heart can be no safer than there.

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