On the good days, I see Your beauty.
I imagine You designing the world like a painting.
You splash colors on a canvas and, full of joy, spread shades whimsically.
Sometimes when You paint, You almost dance–
with large brush strokes, bold tints, and expansive shapes.
Other times when You paint, You crouch down in the corners of the canvas, using the tiniest of tools for some fine details, and with a precise brush of your pinkie, you smooth out the lines.
You intertwine and combine colors to make some more brilliant and exotic than others, and different hues when combined are the softest and sweetest pastel.
You create fluidly, tracing one line to the next with care. No splash or fleck of paint is without Your eye on it—Your hand placed it there.
Where Your painting has broody blues and ominous gray tones, there are surprising twists that turn into an almost hazy, fiery yellow-red that line the edges and almost peak out of the dark spots like a child hiding.
You cannot take in Your creation at one glance or 500 stares, or a billion of either. It requires relentless study and careful reflection to see it well. To see it at all closely to the intention You held in creating it.
On the good days,
I see You as loving. I see you as true. I see you as beautiful.
I see You as the gentle Creator who doesn’t waste things or do things without thought.
And the Mighty Warrior standing in between me and everything that scares me.
On the good days, You help me see You fully—rightly—closely.
On the bad days…
I can’t see You at all.
I shudder as I hear a loud booming voice,
I grow dizzy and nauseous from confusion.
I feel tossed about as a puppet on a string or a sailboat lost at sea.
I cannot see You.
I only feel what is distorted—fragmented pieces that resemble truth but lie when unattached to the other parts of who You are.
My imagination twists You into my biggest fears and whispers terrifying lies that feel closer than my very skin.
While You are outside of time and can see things in full view, with unwavering confidence…
I feel trapped in a shattered frame, unable to escape beyond the 4 corners with which I am to exist.
Help me know You as the Painter.
If You are the Creator—
You created tomorrow and can dance-paint Your way through my dreams.
You knew I’d feel this, think this, write this;
And You can design the next utterance from my lips or brush stroke of kindness You enable me to complete.
You can bolster my courage by letting me lean on You.
You can make me laugh and dry my tears and give me this thing called Hope that endures.
Lord, make today a good day.
I want to see You.