In my mind I need a picture of God, a mural as broad as the sky. If I could open my eyes wider, wider, I could see all creation on his canvas. From the swirling brushstrokes of galaxies to the artful blotches of newborn aardvarks. Zinnias and canyons, hermit crabs and oaks, oceans and infants. Through what he’s painted in creation, in colors bright and dark, muted or primary, I would see something of the artist.
If I could look closer, closer, into the texture of history as he is painting it, I am certain that I would see some artistic purpose. I would see, in brushstrokes broad and fine, some hint of what he’s up to, and what he’s like. The picture would breathe with life and purpose.
If I could see the painting as only God could enable me, if he could touch my eyes to perceive his art, I am certain I would see all that is unattractive turning slowly, slowly, into beauty beneath the artist’s hand, his brush trailing crimson.
In my mind I see a picture of God. But even a sky-size mural cannot contain it!
— Excerpted from An Ocean of Endless Light | copyright © 2006
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