Masterpiece

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve had some conversations with people about how to look at life.  There are a lot of metaphors that I’ve heard and even used myself.  One friend said that she thought of it like a tree with lots of branches.  Sometimes God has to prune the branches that don’t produce fruit (could be from sin and bad choices that we make).  But then new branches grow in other directions and the tree is healthy.  Of course, this also brings to mind Jesus' illustration of the vine and the branches.

That’s a fair enough comparison, but I like the idea that comes from Ephesians 2:10: “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”  That word “handiwork” (or “workmanship” in KJV) has the idea of “masterpiece,” which “in modern usage refers to a creation that has been given much critical praise, especially one that is considered the greatest work of a person's career or to a work of outstanding creativity, skill or workmanship.”  (Wikipedia.  I know, I know)

Now the great thing about thinking about it this way is that, not only is God completing this great work in us, but He is allowing us to participate in its creation.  When we look at how God has chosen to work throughout history, we see that “consistently, God chooses the course of action in which human partners can contribute most.” (Prayer by Yancey)

This made me think of a chalk artist I saw when I was a young child.  I remember watching this man draw a beautiful picture, all the time talking about God’s work in our lives.  Then, in the middle of the talk, he took a big black piece of chalk and made several random marks on this beautiful picture.  I remember being really shocked by this.  But then he began to work on the black marks until they also became parts of the picture and again it was a beautiful scene.  It made a distinct impression on me that has stuck with me all my life.  It still gives me comfort to think of God working in my life like this.

I told this to a dear friend the other night and although she liked the idea she said, “I feel like the picture of my family has turned out like a drawing a five-year-old would draw, with all the people distorted.”  I can understand this.  We don’t always get the happy, beautiful portraits we long for.

I just sent her a note with this picture attached.

It’s a Picasso.

It may be distorted and hard to understand, but it’s a masterpiece nonetheless.  Another comforting thought.