The Self Portrait of God
In a flickering reflection of lightning across the sky
I thought I saw the twinkle of laughter in my Father’s eye
And in the soft white petals of a small dainty flower
I saw the brushstrokes of the Master Creator
He’s been painting a picture on the canvas of time
This image of beauty that shimmers in every line,
Is a portrait of Himself created in exquisite perfection
Creator of all things seen clearly through His creation
I’ve done a few portraits. A real portrait, though, goes beyond just a canvas with paint on it. A true portrait captures the nuances of a man or woman’s character and is able to display the spirit or soul of that person. Whether it is captured in the intensity of the eyes or the gentleness of a smile or the confidence of a posture, that small moment of time that it takes to snap a photo or capture an image in the artist’s mind must translate to the canvas.
They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I have to disagree. Beauty is beauty regardless of who beholds it. The character of beauty transcends its need to be seen. God isn’t beautiful because we have seen Him and affirm His beauty. He shares His beauty because He is beautiful not so we can tell Him so.
The word portrait comes from the Latin word prōtrahere which means to draw forth. When we look around and see that even the heavens declare the glory of God we are catching glimpses of His self portrait. If, over a lifetime, we could capture moments of beauty and translate them into images to create a montage, we would begin to see who He is.
Tomorrow is my last post. Here's your part in this. Email as many people as you know and ask them to post anything beautiful to this blog. Click here to send the email. Just put your email list in the blind carbon copy (bcc) section and sign your name at the bottom. Click on the comment section below to post your response.
Every fragment of beauty is a brushstroke of the Image of God.
-Armando
Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!
I thought I saw the twinkle of laughter in my Father’s eye
And in the soft white petals of a small dainty flower
I saw the brushstrokes of the Master Creator
He’s been painting a picture on the canvas of time
This image of beauty that shimmers in every line,
Is a portrait of Himself created in exquisite perfection
Creator of all things seen clearly through His creation
I’ve done a few portraits. A real portrait, though, goes beyond just a canvas with paint on it. A true portrait captures the nuances of a man or woman’s character and is able to display the spirit or soul of that person. Whether it is captured in the intensity of the eyes or the gentleness of a smile or the confidence of a posture, that small moment of time that it takes to snap a photo or capture an image in the artist’s mind must translate to the canvas.
They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I have to disagree. Beauty is beauty regardless of who beholds it. The character of beauty transcends its need to be seen. God isn’t beautiful because we have seen Him and affirm His beauty. He shares His beauty because He is beautiful not so we can tell Him so.
The word portrait comes from the Latin word prōtrahere which means to draw forth. When we look around and see that even the heavens declare the glory of God we are catching glimpses of His self portrait. If, over a lifetime, we could capture moments of beauty and translate them into images to create a montage, we would begin to see who He is.
Tomorrow is my last post. Here's your part in this. Email as many people as you know and ask them to post anything beautiful to this blog. Click here to send the email. Just put your email list in the blind carbon copy (bcc) section and sign your name at the bottom. Click on the comment section below to post your response.
Every fragment of beauty is a brushstroke of the Image of God.
-Armando
Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!
posted by 99 Blogger @ 11:22 PM
1 comments
1 Comments:
A Winter Thought: Trees are glazed like crystal webs, and stones are frozen steel.
The backdrop of the hills beyond looks fake instead of real.
Frozen ponds are dusted with sparkles and white jewels,
concealing hidden secrets that beneath ice life still rules.
As I walk the powdered paths that crunch beneath my feet, I'm struck by a sacred thought which makes the earth complete.
The flakes that lie upon the ground are nature's gifts of leaven.
Their beauty should be recognized as manna from God's Heaven.
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