perfectly imperfect

I spend hours staring at my artwork. Flipping it over and over and over. I critic it with a critical eye and study every flaw and misplaced line.  I get frustrated and throw it on the floor.

Three or four days later I pick up that piece of paper and look with fresh eyes at the lines I had scribbled on the paper.

I take a step back and I stare at it with new perspective. The mistakes have not changed, it hasn’t improved over time.

But My HEART has.

For me, everything I start to draw or sketch starts in my heart. It starts with a idea placed inside me by the Holy Spirit. A vision that I cannot see with my eyes, but can feel inside my soul.  

 

As this idea works its way to my brain, things start to take shape and I start to put my own personal human twist into the vision.

I start to sketch things out and nothing seems quite perfect or quite right. Nothing ever seems quite like I wanted it to in my mind. By the time I’m done with the first sketch things are sometimes quite out of perspective of the “idea” I had.  Thus the throwing it all on the floor and walking away.

Little do I ever understand with God is doing inside me. The healing, the growing, the deepening, the searching, the surrender, the molding, the shaping, the strengthening.  Rarely do I recognize the deep knife surgery that is happening inside my soul as my fingers fly over the surface of the paper.

When I pick up that piece of paper a few days later and study it, it is not with my eyes that I see it, but with the heart that God was changing as I worked. It is a piece of who I am. A struggle of my soul, and Sharpening of my heart. 

It is my heart that beats in time to the Holy Spirit. It is me pouring out the love the Father has given me. It’s me seeing with the eyes the of my Father. It’s seeing the flaws and knowing their part in the whole picture. It’s surrendering the messed up parts of me to be seen through the eyes that make all things beautiful.

My artwork isn’t perfect or without flaw. It’s not meant to be. It’s meant to reflect with unfinished work of the Holy Spirit in my life. If I were perfect, my art would probably be perfect too. But there are days when all I can achieve is a beautiful disaster.  That’s ok. Jesus love’s the disaster. He loves the broken pieces. He loves us, His messed up, dirt covered, bloodied kneed, tear stained, giggling, crazy little children.

Thank you Jesus, for loving the imperfect messed up me.