Eliot came for a visit on Tuesday. He is four. He loves my scrambled eggs and bacon and Nanny’s pancakes without blueberries.
He is entering his artistic stage in life. If you give my grandson a stack of paper and some color markers he is a happy little boy.
He showed us his first picture and explained in great detail what we were seeing. We marveled at his abilities.
He’s only four.
And before he left, we put his masterpiece up on our refrigerator.
Know what? God has your artwork plastered all over his refrigerator. In my human eye I can imagine that some of my work found there might look rather bleak in retrospect, but not to God.
Because I did my best.
I DID MY BEST!
That's what Eliot did.
That is God’s criteria.
“Oops. I colored outside the lines.”
And God says, “It’s beautiful anyway. Keep painting my son.”
“Aw. I tore the paper and it is in shreds.”
And God says, “That’s okay. Bring it to me and let’s put it back together.”
“But look, some of the lines are crooked, and the house is leaning to the right.”
And God says, “I can straighten out those lines and repair the house.”
“Oh man. I got my colors all wrong again.
And God says, “Come, draw near. I can fix that. I can make a mosaic of those colors.”
Do you get the metaphoric picture here?
God cares more about a willing heart than he cares about perfection. He takes our presentation and makes something beautiful out of it.
Reminds me of Bill and Gloria’s great song.
If there ever were dreams
that were lofty and noble
They were my dreams at the start
And the hopes for life’s best
were the hopes that I harbored
Down deep in my heart
But my dreams turned to ashes
My castles all crumbled
My fortunes turned to loss
So I wrapped them all
in the rags of my life
And laid them at the cross.
Something beautiful, something good
All my confusion He understood
All I had to offer Him
was brokenness and strife
But He made something beautiful
out of my life
What is your best? Is it tattered and torn? Are the corners frayed?
Bring it on down. Give your best to God and watch what He does with it.
P Michael Biggs
One Word at a Time