The Coffee is hot to my palm. My wife is beautiful across from me. The caffeinated aroma of the locale is a comfort to my mind. The Bible reading intrigues me, guides me, speaks to me and awakens my heart to God.
Painted art fills the wall.
Sometimes I wish I were an artist. My thoughts and meditations do not fit on linear lines or in paragraphs on pages. They are all over the place - dogs at home, why Taylor drinks from a ceramic mug while I prefer paper, I don't want to paint the house but I do, can a person be re-born-again after all the Spirit moves where He pleases...
Most of my thoughts are passing observations, mundane musings and flippant questions that I don't really wonder at. But others... Make me want to paint.
I wish I could paint my love for Taylor. She would be laughing and smiling in a background of yellow and blue while wearing a sundress.
I wish I could paint my ever morphing relationship with Jesus. The whole spectrum of colors would be present. The colors to portray God would reflect faithfulness, grace and truth. Then there would be at least 12 representations for my life. On part of the painting there would be a struggle, on another a mountaintop of joy, still another would find me saying the word "HELP", one of me would be holding a sword, on the opposite side I would be holding magazine ads up in front of my view of God... 12 representations of my interactions with God is not enough.
I wish I could paint joy mingled with sorrow. Deep red in the midst of intense yellow. Just some way to portray to tension of building a house for a family in need while still seeing so much need around them.
I wish I could paint. There is so much inside each one of us that our world will never know.
Maybe God feels this way about us. Maybe it's not that God is so silent as so many believe he is; maybe He has painted world as it is to tell us what is inside him. Maybe weather is a indicator of the intensity of emotions that our creator feels. Maybe.
After all, God is an artist.
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