The Humble Painter

THE HUMBLE PAINTER

This Love..... What is this love? I cannot define it. I cannot fathom its depths. Yet, it is the very thing that keeps me going.  It is the very thing that opens my eyes.  This thing called love…yes you could call it unconditional and never-failing, but I think it may be even greater than that.  This love, so undeniable, that it can follow you into the darkest of places, to the lowest of valleys, and it still remains strong.  This grace. This brilliant juxtaposition of mercy and the mysterious love that guides and overwhelms me.  Imagine a painting that is so incredibly radiant and alluring, so astounding, that you can’t bear to look away when you lay your eyes upon its beauty. And yet, its painter, in all his grace, is so humble, that he will not sign his name upon the intricately woven canvas, or even claim it as his own.  He simply stands along with the astonished and amazed onlookers, the common people, and observes.  He observes his fine works, his valued masterpieces.  But these masterpieces are not hanging on the walls. No, these precious jewels are surely the onlookers themselves.  He rejoices at these creations and surrounds them with this indescribable thing called love, and this beautiful grace.  He is in love. In love not with his precious painting upon the wall, but with his beloved children that still stand awestruck and equally amazed at an artist, a creator, and a king that they do not even fully know.