The Artist 

I’m dragging this over from my old blog. I was thinking about it yesterday morning – it’s a thing I wrote during a painful time, a few years ago. I’m not a poet and I’m still not totally happy with the ending – it needs something. But, here it is.

If you’re in a difficult place remember that God is able to work good out of every situation, even when the situation itself isn’t good. He squeezes it like a wet washcloth, wringing every last drop of good from it. Nothing is wasted with Him and He is always good (Romans 8).

It can be hard to remember that in the dark. The end goal is for us to be made into the image of Christ, and He endured his share of suffering. Our share, too. 

———-


I am a piece of rock
Marble to be exact
Freshly drawn up
Out of the dirt

The Artist stands back and waits

When the time is right
He blows across the surface
Wipes away the dirt
And sets to work

He sees inside of me
What He intends to bring forth

The Artist chips me away
Carefully chisels
(I do not like the chisel)
He removes what does not belong

The Artist steps back and waits

Again He approaches
Blows across the surface
Wipes away the dust
And sets to work

More chiseling
(I still do not like the chisel)

But I begin to see a glimpse
Of something taking shape,
Of whatever He’s trying to bring forth

The Artist steps back and looks
And smiles
And waits

On and on it goes –

The chiseling, the blowing,
The wiping away of dirt and dust
He removes the bits of me
That do not belong

I thought some of those bits were rather nice.
What was wrong with that one over there?
I feel exposed

And, the waiting
Why the long waiting?
Will it ever end?
What is He trying to bring forth?

But, the smiling –
That I like. It reassures me.
He must see a glimpse now
Of what it is He intends to bring forth

Finally He steps back and looks
Only a few minor adjustments remain

The Artist now has a twinkle in His eye.
He steps back and waits.

When the time is right
Carefully and lovingly
He sands away the final remains
Of what does not belong

The artist steps back
And smiles
(I think I see a tear)

He calls for His friends
To come and see what has been wrought
From this piece of rock
Once rough and covered with dirt

It now stands in completion
In perfection

It’s what He always intended to bring forth
It’s what He saw inside all along:

I’m pure white marble, made in the image of His Son.

I am perfect.

I am clean.

I am amazed.

And it was worth the pain.

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