A Blank Page

There is something so intimidating about a blank page. It begs to be written on, and yet it desires something worthy of being written down. It longs to be used and trasnformed through the pen of a skillfull writer into a work of art. That, my friends, is a rather intimidating mandate.

I like to think that my life is a blank page, just waiting for God to write my story down on it. However, whenever I make the decision to give God a blank sheet of paper for my life I can't seem to help but want to make it into a piece of artwork myself - without waiting on Him to do it. That blank sheet is just soooo tempting.

The problem is...I am not an artist. I do a very poor job of making art. But that doesn't seem to stop me from trying. The end result is that I end up with a kindergarten finger painted sheet of paper instead of something rivaling The Starry Night.

Why, oh why, can I not leave the painting up to the Master?

And yet, there seems to be a very delicate balance between taking over the painting myself and collecting the materials that the Painter wants to use.

I obviously cannot just sit home on the couch and expect life to happen. And yet at the same time, how much of me going out and searching for jobs, etc. is acceptable without taking over the painting entirely?

I usually think of my journey through life as a walk on a twisty, narrow mountain trail, and in that analogy, right now I am walking in a thick, soupy fog. However, to stick with the same analogy, it's like God has turned the painting away from me, so I can't see what He is doing until He reveals it with a flourish.

I think I have successfully managed to keep from taking over the painting for a while now, but every time someone mentions graduation, I try to peer around to see what the painting is looking like, but to no avail.

Trust. Trust God. Trust the Master. Trust the Painter. Trust the Artist. After all, He did create all the glories that surround us on a daily basis - I'd say He's qualified.