When I was five, I came home from preschool with an exquisitely detailed, yet hopelessly abstract drawing of a shark’s heart. Delicately colored on rumpled computer paper, it was perfect by preschooler standards. It looked like a combination of a beehive and architectural blueprint for the ancient underwater city Atlantis. So in short, it looked absolutely nothing like what a shark’s heart could or would appear. I sometimes wonder if my mom was concerned about me when I brought that drawing home. She’s never admitted that to me. She kept the drawing as all good moms do and it’s still tucked away in some dusty, corner dresser shelf. To this day, I’m not sure what I was thinking when I drew it. Sharks are just cool I guess. I’ve come to accept the fact that I’m a bit quirky. That’s how God made my brain. At thirty one, I’m still the five year old kid that sees the beauty in odd, unexpected places.
Often I find myself lost in daydreams. Maybe I dream because God created me creative. He sees me as a dreamer, an artist, a person with vision because He is a person of these attributes. I often hear that our identity is in Christ and that’s sometimes difficult for me to fully comprehend, but I think I’m starting to get it.
Everything about me that’s weird or peculiar has purpose. These things used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just see them as a reflection of God. The more me I am, the purer the reflection. For so long I was a muddled mirror, a distorted image. I had so much dirt and gunk and junk built up that I couldn’t see myself or God properly.
I think that’s one of the reasons I’m going on this journey. I have such a limited perspective of God. I want to be enthralled by the vastness and delicate details of this sculpture He’s shaped. I ponder how big He is and yet how intimately insignificant details never go unnoticed. God is obviously an artist. He drew up the blueprints of heaven, the miniature ligaments of a millipede and yes, even the heart of a shark. I can totally relate.
