Having tried a couple of times to write a post for this morning, and having gotten hopelessly mired in my own rhetoric…I was reminded of a sonnet I wrote a few years ago about the prerogative of the artist to abandon his work if it’s not up to his own standards.
Sometimes we get so focused on everything that’s wrong with our world, that we forget the Master Artist isn’t finished yet. Against all odds, He hasn’t thrown in the towel on His creation.
Take a moment to be encouraged by that today:
Cannot the clay be crushed while on the wheel,
Canvas be slashed before the paint is dry?
Can’t faulty stitch be ripped by knitter’s zeal,
Phrase be erased which fails to satisfy?
The carver, wise and skilled, has perfect right
To scrap the flawed and twisted piece of wood.
The poet stops his fledgling work mid-flight
Because it isn’t singing as it should.
But we, the Potter’s marred, unlovely jars,
No masterpieces…He elects to wet
His hands and work us new. God, who names stars
And knows each sparrow, hasn’t finished yet…
Till we are fit for our unveiling day,
Our Maker–loving, faithful–shapes our clay.