Who can question the Master Artist
As He paints the portraits of our lives
Do we trust the strokes of His brush
Or believe the enemies lies.
Cunning and smooth are his words
As they lead straight to death
Do we believe He withholds good things from us
He questions under his breath.
So we watch in anticipation
And hope in His unfailing love
That the Painter of the Universe
Withholds no good thing from above.
Every detail so sovereignly designed
His hands delicately depicting
Authoring a story
Before there was light He was predicting.
Do we trust the hands of our Creator
As He paints the landscapes of our faith?
Do we stand at the door and knock
Knowing our hearts are safe?
Safe to freely ask
For all the good He plans
Knowing He died for them
See His nail scarred hands.
What a wise and unsearchable Creator
In the universe hues of every color
Waiting to be used
On a heart that’s even smaller.
Oh, how I believe, how I trust
When I see Your heavens dance
The lights in the deep darkness
Display your vast expanse.
You are the Master Artist
With your infinite use of tools
Use them on me Lord,
To make me more like You.
**I wrote this poem after watching my beloved, Laura, paint a mural on a bedroom wall. The beautiful thing about this mural is that it is on the wall in the room that would have been a nursery for our children. She is creating life in this room that will be a reminder of God’s steadfast love and constant pouring out of hope into my heart. I watched her paint and found myself questioning her ability to do so. Even though I believe she is one of the best artists of our generation, and I know her deeply, I still questioned whether she knew what she was doing. We do the same with God. We watch Him paint the story of our lives and constantly question and believe the lies of the enemy that He, our INFINITE and SOVEREIGN and MIGHTY GOD, is withholding some good thing from us…. Oh, how we are silly humans**
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