Inside each one of us is given a reservoir of artistic expression circulating through our creative bloodstream. In you abides a gallery of endless artwork—an invisible supernatural display, composing originals every day. Can you feel it? Is it breathing? Is it vital, moving, making? Is it in constant communication or pooling in stagnant waters? Is it suffering, starving, dormant, dead? Or is it fed and flexed, inhaling and exhaling extravagant beauty and brilliance? There’s enough oxygen in your spiritual lungs to fill the vacuum of space. Think of it… infinite ability without limit. Timeless. Teeming. You are your Father’s phosphorous in human form—a dangerous combination of combustible spark and explosive human fire. “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind” (John 1:4).
Flesh. Blood. Art in its rawest material.
If you are made in God’s image—the ultimate Creator and perfect Inventor of all things—then you’re made to create as well. To fashion something out of nothing. To design, author, innovate, and motivate others to do the same. Be the architect of the indescribable. Slow the hurried steps of those who miss the calling, and reveal the wonder of seeing it, believe in it. Wring their own passion to pursue it for themselves. Give until someone else gets. Extend your reach until it strains the heart muscle of those you touch. And if by chance you fall short and fail, sleep well. There’s time to give again tomorrow.
Bleeding In Black and White 