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Clouds rimmed with fire and swirled by the fingertip of God blaze above me. My eyes skim God’s infinite masterpiece as my hand fingers its own brush. I long to grip the brush and sweep my canvas with the same illumination my eye’s behold. But enthralled, I cannot rip my gaze from the ever-changing perfection of hue, depth, and lighting. The brush slips from my fingers. I hardly notice. Breathless, I watch the Master slowly veil His final touches of crimson brilliance with soft darkness. The evening’s masterpiece is finished. Suddenly, I catch my breath as truth, more radiant than the flaming sky, floods my soul. I stand as my Creator’s ongoing masterpiece! With love surpassing my comprehension, He scooped up this clod of clay and redeemed it with His life. I feel His patient fingers molding me with unerring accuracy into the image of His Son. Worshiping, I rejoice knowing this masterpiece will stand complete and eternal at the Day of Christ.
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