“To me, it’s beauty.”
“Beauty is God.”
Thoughts so lofty. Thoughts so spread. Thoughts high and low and in between. In creating things, must I be conscious and intentional in every decision? Concepts can be so complex. Do I even want to aspire to be an artist? Maybe a craftsman would be more enjoyable. Or maybe just easier.
These thoughts trail into more thoughts, continuously pondering what is beauty, what isn’t beauty. What is art, what isn’t art.
“This is a piece of cardboard.”
“No, with this fabric and this shoestring, it’s art.”
“Well, it’s beautiful.”
So there it is again. The question of beauty. I finished my art project between three and four o’clock this morning with no sleep. As I walked back to my dorm from the 3-D studio, a soft rain greeted my cheeks. I stumbled around for words to form into questions to ask God. “What do I need to…” No. “What’s the purpose of…” No. “Is it important to…” No. Finally I just said, “Lord here I am, as I am. I’m listening. Speak to me if you will.” Almost immediately:
“You are my beauty!”
What? No, how cliche. That’s my own thoughts thinking.
“You are my beauty!” he said. “Know and understand that.”
Choking up, letting out weak little whimpers and gasps for air. Water rolls down my cheek but I can’t tell if it’s my own tear or a raindrop from the sky. The Lord of the universe calls me his beauty. Above the trees and the mountains and the stars he calls me his own. And he calls me beautiful. Overwhelming.
“What do I do with this, Lord?”
“Rejoice in it! Dance in it, love in it, create in it!”
Thank you, Lord. Thank you.