the Sculptor

I tried to write some poetry all weekend, specifically poetry themed around Good Friday and Easter. While I did write some poems, I didn't like the poems enough to share them. Again, late last night, I succeeded in writing two poems on my phone. This is the first one. 

You're the Artist

that painted the only

perfect picture in all

of history, a painting

of pure grace. 

You're the Maestro 

that gives the songbird 

her cue and tells the whales

in the deep ocean blue

when to join the symphony 

of the waves sloshing

in the oceans that fit

in Your hand. 

You breathe into the trees

so that they might have 

the winds to rustle them up

or to bring their leaves down. 

You, my God, are the Creator

of all

You placed the stars in the sky

so that they might twinkle

and dance around the sun 

and the moon and the earth. 

You created it all, 

and yet You're also 

The Sculptor. 

You take me in all of my

imperfections and You 

chisel away at all of the things

that You don't want to be there. 

my pride, my bad temper,

my failures, my weaknesses,

You chisel them all away...

until all that's left is only what You

want to be seen--

Your light shining through the cracks

of my brokenness,

Christ on display for all to see. 

You are my Savior, my Creator,

my Father 

and You lavished Your love upon me,

of all people,

so that You might continue to sculpt 

me to be more like Your Son.