I am a painting, half brushed.
A song, with notes trailing silently off the page.
A story without an ending.
I am a garden, new seeds sown.
Threads, unwoven.
I am unfinished, but designed.
I am as unfinished as the work that surrounds me: unfolded laundry, sink full of dinner dishes, toys strewn, books half read, weeds unpulled, closets half organized…. I try, but it is never done. My best efforts fail. I wonder how God can be at work in me and you, and everyone else all at once. With souls, it is God who handles the multi-tasking. And He never misses a call or puts me on hold. He never sets down the pen or the eraser in my life. I can’t imagine how busy His day was.
I’m grasping Lord—but learning my unfinished earthly work isn’t failure. Your work in me, too, is unfinished, yet perfect. Your work on the cross is the only truly finished work I will see in this life. And with the unfinished, You don’t rush. You take Your time, perfect time to complete us all, to do it right.
I rush. I fret. I try to make finished things that can never be. Parenting cannot be folded up and put away. Marriage doesn’t wash up in the kitchen sink. I cannot put myself in a spin cycle. God is patiently ever at work at me. He promises to finish in time.
As I write, little girls are beading at the table, colors and shapes rolling under small fingertips—a work in progress, creating beauty. Beads spill, but she starts again. Unrushed in this space of time, they are girls, beautiful as they are, but changing. Growing up strains the bones, stretches the minds. May I not rush them, but nurture them. Help me to gently bring paint onto God’s canvas of their lives, according to His master design, not my own. Help me to water the soil, cultivate, but not show impatience at the growth.
Lord, help me to soften, to mold. Help me to absorb Your paint, not tear beneath the eraser, not write with permanent marker. Help me to trust. Wait. Be workable. Help me to change my heart’s stigma: see that unfinished work is not failure, but a process. Help me to lessen the pressure on myself and others; let You be the perfector. Help me to love the process as it makes the completion even more beautiful. Help me to love me, unfinished piece that I am. Thank you for showing me Your deep love through a friend who sees Your handiwork in the swirling paint and smears of my life. Thank You for telling me, help me to listen.
Philippians 1:6 being confident of this very thing, that He who has
begun a good work in you will complete it
until the day of Jesus Christ;
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