An Art Exhibit

The other night my accountability group shared about the struggles with sharing our testimonies (our stories). One sister shared how the pain of her past made her too ashamed, too embarrassed, to share with people. The other shared how she envied those who had had these remarkable, life-altering, world-shaking, transformational experiences when hers was so "plain" and "boring." My story, for the most part would relate more with the latter.

But as I thought about it some more, it hit me: Who am I to diminish the power of the cross? Who are we to grade the work of the Spirit in us?

If Christ's crucifixion and resurrection are indeed the miracle of grace, aren't all our stories miraculous ones?

He pours out His love and affectionis equally to each of us. All of heaven rejoices over each believer. We are all His great works, His masterpieces. And like the talented artist He is, each of us differs in design and composition. For some, He paints in watercolor - soft strokes and lines that blend into the next. For others, He creates beautiful mosaics, which are just as breathtaking as any painting, but composed of jagged chards of discarded glass. Up close they don't always seem to fit or make sense, but He painstakingly pieces together the brokenness and joins them together with grace and love until His masterpiece is revealed.

I need to be reminded to see the art within. We all do.