September 24, 2009
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Miracle Worker Dressed in a Smock
Let my tongue resound with praises wrapped in flames!
May my life be filled with spices seasoned in your name!
You are the master artist. I’m awestruck by your hand.
You paint colors lined in gold. Your art technique expands.
I want to be brushed into view- a relic on your canvas.
In hues of shining white, display your light around us!
To be created by the hand that heals terminal sickness,
To be covered in the blood that reassures forgiveness.
I’m ecstatic. I can’t explain the wonderful mystery of your name.
I admire the artist that strokes grace in my life.
I value the imperfections you allow with your painters knife.
For what is artwork without uniqueness?
Who am I without your completeness?
Your artists eye, spots raw beauty.
Like every creator, to transform becomes duty.
But, you transform like no one else!
You paint skin on bones and restore diminished health.
I admire your talent. You sculpt life into rock.
Miracle worker, dressed in a smock!
-Kimi Willingham
Isaiah 40:26
Lift your eyes and look to the heavens:
Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one,
and calls them each by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
not one of them is missing.
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