Brush Strokes

I sat staring at my blank page. White space pleaded to be filled with black and white squiggles and dots. It reminded me of art. I can only stare in amazement as an artist sweeps her brush across blank canvas. How white nothingness becomes an extravagant story from blobs of red, blue, and yellow paint is a mystery to me.

But then again, so is life. It’s abstract, messy, and beautiful. It gets splattered with sorrow and pierced by rays of hope. And what looks like a disaster becomes something stunning.

I sat staring at my blank page. White space pleaded to be filled with black and white squiggles and dots. It reminded me of art. I can only stare in amazement as an artist sweeps her brush across blank canvas. How white nothingness becomes an extravagant story from blobs of red, blue, and yellow paint is a mystery to me.

But then again, so is life. It’s abstract, messy, and beautiful. It gets splattered with sorrow and pierced by rays of hope. And what looks like a disaster becomes something stunning.

The last three years of my life felt a lot like abstract art. Questions and loss sprayed across the pages. But now as I look back on those events, they’re becoming lovely. What I considered broken and damaged morphed into resources for ministry.

Such works of redemption weave a golden thread through the pages of scripture. Just the other day, I stumbled upon God’s encouragement to Israel in Isaiah 43:16–19. He reminds the people of their deliverance from Egypt, but also tells them to forget the past.

Remember and forget. How can we do both? I’ve asked the Lord this question for several weeks now, and this thought came to mind, “Look at the brush strokes. “ If you stand too close to a work of art, it loses its splendor. A majestic piece disintegrates into random splotches, mismatched colors, and rough textures. But stand back and the mess becomes magnificent.

Perhaps the same is true for our lives. The disappointments that dot the landscape give way to a better picture—a redemptive one. Here loss and pain are part of a bigger picture. And God holds the brush.

So how do we focus on his brush strokes? Remember what God has done. And forget past mistakes. Deal with them and move on. God does. Just a few verses later God says to his people, “I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins” (Isa. 43:25). If God forgets, so should we.

For some of us it’s not sin but a past hurt or failure that keeps us confined—a blot that captures our focus and keeps us from relishing the good. And here we miss the glory because only God can paint redemption’s story.

So would you join me in taking a step back and gaze at the bigger picture? We might be astonished by the brush strokes.