I wanted to share this beautiful message written by my good friend Fernando Souza. You can find out more about Fernando by clicking here.
The wall is filled with colorful little hands, with people who have giant heads on stick-figure bodies, with the sun that always lives in the upper corner of the page. This is what the wall in my mother-in-law’s house is like. It’s an art gallery that time has assembled, a museum of affection. Hanging there are drawings that my daughters have made since they were very little.
Another day, after a coffee, I stood there, looking at that mural. I saw the first scribbles, the attempts to draw the family – always with a smile that went from ear to ear. I saw the phases, the evolution of the lines, the signature that was taking shape. Each drawing, a time capsule of a childhood that flew by.
From an adult’s technical point of view, the works are full of “mistakes.” But, obviously, that’s not why they are there, framed with so much care. My mother-in-law didn’t keep them because they were masterpieces. She kept them because she saw in each one the heart and the little hands of her granddaughters. She wasn’t evaluating the art; she was celebrating the artist.
And in that moment, “I Saw.” I saw with a clarity that moved me. This is exactly how God, the Father, looks at the wall of our lives.
He sees our scribbles. Our clumsy attempts to love, our prayers with “stick-figure bodies.” A critic would look and point out the flaws. But the Father, no. He looks at each of our days, at each of our attempts to get it right, and it’s as if He says with a smile: “How precious to me are your thoughts!,” a truth that the psalmist recorded. His thoughts about us are not of criticism, like those of an art judge; they are thoughts of affection, like those of a grandfather looking proudly at the drawings on the wall.
We worry so much about delivering a perfect work of art to God, and He is just waiting to receive a sincere drawing, made with the colored pencil we have in hand. That wall, full of color and a love that ignores perfection, was one of the most beautiful sermons I have ever received about grace.
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