My Mess, God’s Masterpiece

When I view the Master’s paintings,
hanging for the world to see,
I think a masterpiece
could never become me.

My faults and all my failures
seem displayed for all to see,
yet You whisper gently,
“The masterpiece I’m creating is thee.”

Each brushstroke has a purpose,
each touch is placed with care.
The colours on Your palette
are beyond all compare.

Your love becomes so evident,
so deep I can’t comprehend,
that my life is the paintbrush
held safely in Your hand.

Though You’re creating a masterpiece,
I know I may not see
the finished work You’re painting
this side of eternity.

Until that day, I’ll trust You,
though the canvas seems unclear,
for every stroke of mercy
is drawing You more near.

My mess is not the ending;
it’s where Your grace begins.
The Master sees a masterpiece
where the world still sees my sin.