artwork

Sometimes when I’m smack dab in the middle of this world's radiant beauty, I picture God as an artist. Maybe as a painter, he creates with a color wheel of hues we don’t have accurate descriptions for.  Or maybe as sculptor, his hands flawlessly mold the texture of a pineapple and the delicate wings of a pelican.  With mere strokes of a paintbrush he can turn a nighttime canvas into a sunrise masterpiece, and with the mighty grooves of his hands, he can perfectly shape the ocean’s shoreline.

If you couldn’t tell by the jabber of pineapples, pelicans, and ocean tides, I was in paradise this past week. Paradise, in the form of Mexico, along the Riviera Maya. Thirty people from across the U.S. rolled in to a resort, retreated from a land with reliable cell phone service, and anticipated the night that Luke and Jess would become their own, little family. As the clouds slowly shifted inland, we shifted into a slowed pace of life. As the drinks re-filled in true, all-inclusive fashion, we refilled our emptied energy with sunrays and long naps.  And as the moonlight danced along the Gulf of Mexico waters, we danced under the stars to Etta James and Lady Gaga, toasting and celebrating the bride and groom.

The Johns’ got to have their first family vacation, Jess and her dad got to go parasailing, Kyle and Alyssa got to toast their older siblings, I got to spend the weekend with my husband, and half of the guests got a post-wedding bath as they jumped one-by-one into the nearby pool- still dressed in full wedding attire (for the record, I jumped and it was well worth the soggy mess.)

This weekend was one of God’s great pieces of art. And as I sat in the Cancun terminal, waiting to board my flight back to Phoenix, I collected and pieced together my most cherished memories.

I remembered the majestic creation that I described earlier. And it struck me that some of the most beautiful pieces of art I’ve been lucky enough to witness were not in a gallery or a museum, but living, breathing, acts of God painted and sculpted for my pleasure and his glory. I remembered the vows that Luke and Jess wrote and read to each other in their new covenant of marriage, and was brought to tears as they related it to the new covenant God scripted for us through the forgiving power of his only son. I remembered the prayers for no rain, for lasting memories, and fruitful friendships and closed my eyes and thanked God for answering them all.

The divine artist began sculpting this marriage close to a decade ago. The channels and lines of Luke and Jess speak of his great faithfulness, merciful kindness, and promising love for his artwork. And though they may not always feel like pieces of art, God updated pictures of Jess and Luke in his wallet and can’t wait to show off their wedding photos in heaven. Not because he’s bragging and not because he’s an artist in need of credit, but because he’s proud and because they’re his masterpiece. 

We are his masterpiece. We are his prized possessions. The God that the birds sing about and the oceans roar about chose us to be his framed focal point. So the next time you wander down the road of I don't matter, or get lost in the desert of it can't be true, be reminded that he finds the lost and creates opportunities for the deserted to jump in the pool of his GRAND love. And believe me, it's well worth the soggy mess.