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Thursday, June 16, 2011

I long to paint a canvas of words

I long to paint a canvas of words,
Daisies on paper
Light on screen
living, breathing words
that show Him

clearer and deeper than reflection,
faces in a pond
images pasted on glass.
fleeting and imperfect

for those images are mere perceptions
perceived by human eye
not indicative of spiritual

I long to paint a canvas of words
carve out the visions that He has given
and place them in the hands
of the broken
the weary
and the lost

I close my eyes to this world
and another world emerges
more real than the last
A world
of Splendor and Light
where colors are brilliant
and all is Living

He gave me a Light to hold
a Light of white and gold
and Paradise is comprised of Light

Love knits the broken back together
binds the cords of emptiness
and strife
and sews peace

Love is made of Light

He showed me the size of my fire,
that thriving, glowing, living Light
that He gives...
It grows...

It is like Physics...nothing can stop it, once it
is set in motion...not outside force
can cease or make heavy,
the Light of His Love

Love is hard to write about
It is pure, effortless, and knows no limits
It is simple...
How much can be said?

How can I, with words,
paint a canvas of the purest Light?

I can't.
I can only speak of the kalideocope of colors.
I read something written by a women
who knows Him
She spoke of stained glass
Even when it's broken,
it reflects the most brilliant of colors
The most dazzling of displays

There was once an a vast corridor of emptiness within me
a Black whole
as large as the Grand Canyon
That emptiness was comprised
of all that is dark
the things that take life,
the vortex that sucks it the marrow..
to the bone..

now there is still emptiness...onlyit is a pure emptiness
that seeks Light..that longs to be filled
with Bread of Life
and thirsts for water from the purest spring

I long to paint a canvas of words
to show Him
But I cannot

If I speak what I know,
I still can't paint His face
I still cannot resurrect
the feeling
of resting in His arms
where all is safe
and all is good...

and all is delightfully and wonderfully

After I wrote this poem and after rereading several months later, I discovered something.
We can recreate Him on paper by building people up in letters. By writing words of hope to the weary. By expressing our faith and speaking life into someone's life.

Our lives are like paintings. We can recreate Him in this life by becoming His hands and feet.
I recently read an article about a Kentucky woman who goes out in the cold weather seeking out the homeless, in order to provide them with blankets. This woman has a full canvas. One day, Jesus will look at the life she painted and He will say, You painted me, here on this earth. You are a picture of what I look like.

I think of the book by Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Grey...The main character chose a life of sin. His painting, in turn was one that resembled death. Our lies and unfaithfulness paint pictures that will burn in the fire.

We are called to paint pictures of Christ with our lives. Our words of hope provide the brilliant colors. Our sacrifices ensure that the canvas is one of quality.

Are you painting a picture of Christ with your life? Or does you picture look a self portrait?
Our paintings look like the ones we aim to please.

Written by me, inspired by Jesus.. ..He is cool! :)
* Patti corbello Archer is the lady who wrote about the stained

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