We are artists

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Did you know that we are all artists?

We don’t have to write, draw, paint, sculpt to be one either.

We’ve been created by the master artist to become like him and he is certainly creative.  Look at us, look at nature ~ the trees, the flowers, the earth, the sea, the sky.  You don’t have to look far to find the wonder of his art.

He spoke this world into being but he breathed life into you and me to become image bearers.

He declared that all his work was good but we are different, because in his declaration he made it known that we humans, male and female, are not just good but very good. 

He put the very good stamp of approval on us as image bearers and gave us work to do ~ that’s our art.

Even when his image became tainted in us he gave us another chance to be created anew through Jesus.

For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.  Ephesians 2:10

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Some versions use the word workmanship instead of masterpiece.

The words masterpiece and workmanship are translations from the original Greek word poiema ~ where our English word poem originates.

We are God’s masterpiece, workmanship, works of art, poem.

We are His poiema.

We, the created, are expressions of his creativity and his poetry comes out through us.  We are poems.  Uniquely put together to add something beautiful to our world.

Wherever we are, wherever we go, whatever we do, whatever we express pours out from the pouring in of the Spirit of God.

We are moving, walking, breathing, living poetry.

We are all artists expressing ourselves in and through the work that he planned and prepared for us long ago.

Each of us will express it differently through different mediums but we’re all poems shining out, through our work, for the glory of God.

In the beginning God designed us for work.

Jesus didn’t change that.  He pours his life into open and willing vessels and what comes out of the vessel is art.  His poetry to the world.

Some of us are writers, some may even write poetry, some may express their art through painting, drawing, sculpting but most of us express God’s poetry in just ordinary everyday ways.  Just like Jesus did.

  • He worked in his father’s carpenter shop
  • He walked
  • Told stories
  • Spent time with prostitutes and other sinners
  • He attended weddings
  • He Healed
  • He fished
  • He laughed
  • He wept
  • He grieved
  • He loved
  • He was compassionate
  • His compassion sometimes led to tough love
  • He enjoyed life
  • He spent time with friends
  • He prayed

He and his father were one.  He stayed close to his father, listened to his voice and lived out his mission through him.

It’s in the everyday, the day-to-day that we best express his poetry too.

When my younger brother died unexpectedly two years ago, one expression of love and compassion that still touches my heart were the friends and extended family that showed up for his visitation with food.  There was a lounge/kitchen area where meat, bread, croissants, sandwiches, fruit, desserts, coffee, soda and much more were spread out on counters.  And the food kept pouring in all day long.

We, my brother’s family and many visitors, didn’t have to leave the funeral home on that long hard day to go out to eat.  Many people met our needs, not only through nourishing our souls with comfort and encouragement but through meeting our physical needs with food.  They were the living, breathing poem of God.

When my oldest son had pneumonia at the age of 14, and his doctor told us that a few days of intravenous antibiotics in the hospital should clear up his infection, we were hopeful since the oral pills didn’t touch it.

As one day led to another and his infection wasn’t clearing up, tubes were inserted into his chest to try and drain the fluid. Then the unthinkable happened.  His lung collapsed and consultations with specialists ensued.   Surgery, ICU and lots of prayer finally brought healing after 30 days in the hospital.

My mother came and stayed with us and cared for our 4-year-old son as Bob and I spent many days and long nights at the hospital.  My sister, Judy, took a week off to stay and helped out too.  Both were living, breathing poems of God.

There were many others from our church ~ including our pastor ~ who gathered around Scott’s hospital bed for prayer and friends visited and helped wherever they could.  Two elders from our church came daily and spent hours with us in the hospital.  God’s poetry was pouring out through their lives.

The more I think it over, the more I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people. Vincent Van Gogh

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I don’t know what it does for you to grasp that you are God’s masterpiece, his poiema, his created poem, but for me it’s liberating to know that he has a perfect plan to live creatively through me.   And he directs me with the desires he plants in me to go out and live it.

Being his workmanship doesn’t mean we are all poets.  It means we are all poems, individual created works of a creative God.  And this poetry comes out uniquely through us as we worship, think, love, pray, rest, work, and exist.
Jesus reminds us we are art and empowers us to make art.
There isn’t only one right way to do the job of glorifying God.  There are many ways, a million little ways, that Christ is formed in us and spills out of us into the world.  Emily Freeman

Let’s go live our art and let our created poems shine!

Blessings,

Nancy


All photos are mine and were taken in my yard.  Scripture from the NLT Bible.

Celebrate!

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Red, white and blue.  I’ve seen it everywhere this past week.

If you live in the USA, you have too.

There are flags waving, crepe paper adorning, patriotic symbols flashing, celebration of the 4th. of July, our independence day, the birthday of America ring out across our land.

And the celebration continues into Sunday, July 5.

I celebrate my freedom to worship today, to serve the God I love, to live in a country where I can proclaim my faith without fear of persecution.  I celebrate that I can worship openly, not in hiding, like so many fellow believers do in other parts of the world.

Despite my freedom, at times I feel like a fish out of water or a fish in the water swimming upstream, going against the flow.

When I get weary and tired, God’s strength and power gives me the Spiritual muscles to keep swimming even when the current pushes against me.

And He gives me the power to live here, now, at such a time as this but to always remember who I am, where I came from and where I’m headed.

He gives me the power to LOVE. And I hope I will LOVE coming from a humble position.

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable:

Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.  The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself:  ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men–robbers, evildoers. adulterers–or even like this tax collector.  I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

But the tax collector stood at a distance.  He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his chest and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God.  For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”   Luke 18: 9-14

My prayer is that I will LOVE coming from the humble place of one needing mercy–ah, grace, mercy–I am nothing without it and everything with it.

I’m aware that as a Christ follower I am called to be different, live differently than our culture — to live counter culturally — but I am also called to love differently than is humanly possible in a world that is not my home.  That is hard and impossible without the power of Christ in me.

I don’t want to forget that this is not my home.  I don’t want to forget that I live in a world where I don’t really belong.  I don’t want to ever forget that I am a citizen of Heaven and that I am just passing through.

I am a sojourner.

If you are a follower of Jesus, you are a sojourner too.

We are not citizens of our world trying to work our way to Heaven.  We are citizens of Heaven allowing Him to complete His work through us.

As I look around at all the red, white and blue.  When I celebrate, join in on the festivities, parades, fireworks, I’m reminded that this celebration can’t compare to the one going on in Heaven when we open our hearts and lives to Jesus–the one who loved us enough to come down into this world to save us.

He’s the one who throws open wide the doors to the Kingdom of Heaven and welcomes us into a new and forever citizenship — a land with similar colors to remember and celebrate.

Jesus bore the red – through His blood, the blue through His bruises and we wear the white.

When God looks at us clothed in Jesus, He sees us as though we have never sinned.  White as snow.  Pure and perfect without blemish or stain.

As I celebrate my freedom here, I’m thankful for my liberty, the freedom to worship, the freedom to express myself.  I celebrate all that and more.

I celebrate the beauty, the glimpses of His glory that surround me daily and I’m truly thankful for all the good and perfect gifts that He’s given to me for my enjoyment.

But I also remember not to get too comfortable and to remember that I will be called to live counter-culturally at times, maybe even be ridiculed for that, possibly be misunderstood,  but I will remain joyful remembering that this is not my home, I’m just passing through.  The best is yet to come.

Blessings,

Nancy