You are the Potter and I am the Clay

There is a stirring in my heart, a deep desire of my mind, and an ache in my soul to be something more. Anonymity has its place in a world full of meaningless accolades. I sit restlessly, I run aimlessly, this passion is crippling as its intent overwhelms my capabilities. Who am I in the midst of it all? What is my blank canvas, where is my display for this creativity that sits kept in a box just waiting to be opened? For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord--a promise of hope He states, but my hope seems to be my fear most days. This hope I posses, this hope I am given, it it not my own?

As grace is a gift, peace a promise, hope happens despite my attempts, desires, fears and ambitions. My hope does not come from these eager hands, this overflowing mind, or this blank canvas before me. Who has created my inspiration? Who has awakened this heart of mine? My canvas, my colors, my thoughts, my plans come from the one who created the world from blankness--who created black and white expanses of separation to a world he soon filled with colors.

I can never finish the picture, I never know how to finish the project, my words never seem complete, my heart always feels full; but these pictures are not my own, these words lack deeper understanding, my heart is not my own, my projects are mirror reflections to something greater within. So I paint to the one that creates inspiration, my words are directed to He who reads between them, my purpose is His plan--this chaos within I give to Him to create something beautiful.

Ecclesiastes 8:16-17

When I applied my mind to know wisdom and to observe man's labor on earth--his eyes not seeing sleep day or night--then I saw all that God had done. No one can comprehend what goes on under the sun. Despite all his efforts to search it out, man cannot discover its meaning even if a wise man claims he knows, he cannot really comprehend it.