What is ‘it’?
Drawings. Paintings. Clay sculptures and handmade cards. Paper-Mache masks and glue-soaked construction paper collages. A thoughtful note. A lumpy figurine. Gestures of grace from my children, my wife, and my friends. Items imbued with the personality and affection of their creator.
A critic’s eye might judge some of it weird. Unbalanced. Random. Kitschy. Disproportionate. Novice. Not good. Who can argue that a multi-colored handprint transformed into a Thanksgiving turkey lacks the technical mastery of Van Gogh or Rembrandt? And that sacred sandwich bag of rug wool I have on display? Even Picasso would raise an eyebrow at such quirkiness.
But I treasure every bit. Such things – artistically right or wrong or strange – are born from love. They are the out-worked expressions of joy and pleasure whose value is granted by their maker.
I have a box full of such expressions. Years of crayon-colored papers, pipe cleaner people, and stationery with handwritten notes that have enhanced relationships and deepened friendships. Simple items that have sealed my heart to a child and fortified my marriage covenant. Tokens that celebrate rich legacies and challenge toward a noble future. Friendship ebenezers. No matter the quality or shape, I love those who have created on my behalf. Their love for me flows through their handmade expressions.
Just like God.
Granite outcroppings and cumulus clouds. Canyon cutting rivers and hot springs. Dandelion seeds. A rolling fog. Frolicking Gold Finches and Sequoia trees. A water strider. A kernel of wheat. The buzzing fly. All joyful expressions of God’s creative pleasure. Gifts to be savored and experienced and enjoyed.
And so are we.
We have worth because our Maker formed us in love. Crafted and shaped with grace and truth, He infused us with identity. His verdict? Good – no, very good!
The lead-in quote to this post challenges me to be a better lover. To seek deep satisfaction in God’s creative mastery. To handle with care and discernment all of His creative progeny. To love Him by loving what He’s made.
Like my children’s penciled stickmen and water colored rainbows, I treasure the fruit of God’s creativity. I celebrate his animate and inanimate and human handiwork. I honor His work, and love Him better when I celebrate how He’s made me – even with my shortcomings and defects and disproportions and failures. Whether I feel like a messy finger painting or Michelangelo’s David, my value can never be blemished.