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The Master Painter of My Heart
The Master with brush in hand
waits patiently to stroke
the colors of His righteousness
His image to evoke
With colors of my own in mind
I suggest my point of view
but the shades of self ambition
are colorless in hue
Then memories take me back to when
I was just a child of four
asking Christ that if He was real
to come through my hearts door
With eager hands and fervent heart
to Jesus the brush I gave
then He began His masterpiece
and pulled me from my grave
New birthed by flowing scarlet
That washed every sin away
my canvas turning pure white
my innocence of gray
As childhood faded into teens
My world oft’ seemed so unfair
I questioned,” Why the heartache
God, are you really there?”
The landscapes of my youthful dreams
Climbed majestically so high
but seldom reached the heavens
though ardently I’d try
“I know You’re Master Painter Lord”
But this picture’s incomplete
“You’re right,” He motioned to me
“Come, sit here by my feet”
“The circumstances that are brushed
Against the fibers of your soul
Are just layers of life’s trials
As you journey towards the Goal”
“Darkness will attempt to erode
the visions that you cherish
hold tightly for without them
my people surely perish”
O’er the years of my escapades
I’ve sometimes pulled the brush
Grabbing tubes of paint I’d hear,
“My child, what is the rush?”
“I either want a canvas new or change
The tones and any shade,”
I squawked in mere defiance
“This life I’d gladly trade”
“Oh Lord, I just can’t do this anymore”
My feeble heart would cry
when His scarred hands reached for me,
“That is why I had to die”
A new dawning like never before
Rose clearly in my mind
And left the tomb of deathly woes
From shrouds of self behind
So this day forward I shall give Him
my spirit and my heart
as the Master takes His paintbrush
and makes my canvas into art…
Scripture References:
2 Cor 12:10
Ro 7:18
Ro 5:9
Mic 3:6
2 Cor 12:9
Hos 4:6
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