Beautiful things.

Beautiful things.

“You make beautiful things,” he repeats back into the crevices of my heart.

Bc I’ve been stressing & hoping & wondering & questioning & praying. I have a lot on my plate lately & so I want to blame it on the things mounding over me, pressuring me to be so much & do so many things. But if I’m truthful with us both I know this question is the very doubt that creeps in all too often.

When I’m afraid to share a gallery of photos with someone because it might not be enough for them. When I feel led to lead a study & get am swept away by the cold feet telling me my words are unimportant. When just like that, one second tips the scales & we’ve landed in the very year a conference is supposed to unfold under my leadership & I’m doubting my ability to get things done.

So as I prayed on my drive, in awe over such a beautiful sky, so untamed & untampered with, so raw & undone, & as I said, “you made such beautiful things”, he repeated it back to me.

& this ones for you, too, darling.
You make beautiful things.

You were born for this, love. Born of a Creator to bear his image. Born of a Creator to create. & so you’re saying, “that isn’t me. I’m not crafty.” But this isn’t just a word for the artists. This is for the people who can build businesses & churches from the ground up. This is for the people who can manage finances like its nobodies business.

This is for the little people who have held big dreams that they are afraid to step out in because they don’t want to risk a failure with a potential audience.

You make beautiful things.

The sky is so naturally beautiful. Sitting at the red light, I couldn’t help but think about how many things in the world have been kept original & authentic since the beginning. Skyscrapers & yellow taxis weigh down on cities that were once meadows, woods, & hill scapes. We even pound old buildings into the ground for new ones to stand in their place. Our own hair died, ears pierced, scarred knees, face covered in powder. But the sky. We don’t pump blue dye into it to make it more aesthetically pleasing. We don’t suck clouds out of the sky to make its complexion more even. It wasn’t bluer when our parents were toddlers & by 2019 its faded like our favorite blue jeans. It just is and every day it’s new. It’s a fresh start. Just like us. Just like how we’re supposed to see ourselves. New every moment. New every day.

& so now I’m thinking maybe the sky is for more than us to take pictures of & caption #nofilter beneath. Yes, for his glory. But maybe its also for his new mercies. For the chance to be new every morning. The chance to create a whole new masterpiece every day. To be restored, to have a fresh start, & to make beautiful things fearlessly.

It’s your turn, love. Break the silence. Spill your guts.

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