"For we are God's handiwork..." (Ephesians 2:10 NIV)
I have spent a decade embroidering a tablecloth.
What’s even worse, I’m nowhere near done.
Let me tell you how it started.
Back in the formational years of our childrearing, I subscribed to a magazine called ‘Family Fun’. Inspired by an article about inspiring gratitude in small children, I bought a polyester table cloth and a pack of Sharpies. That Thanksgiving, I covered the kitchen table with Kraft paper before shrouding it with what would (unbeknownst to me) become a family heirloom.
When dinner was done, we cleared the dishes and got out the markers. The kids were shocked; “We get to draw on the table?!” Everyone scribbled in their gratitudes and a tradition was born. The kids’ contributions from those years include a stick figure Jesus and the slanting sentence “He died for us.”
Turns out, time and Tide wash away these inscriptions, especially the oldest (and most abstract) contributions. As a result, around year five I decided to embroider against loss. We’ve also abstained from washing. :/ I truly had no perception of the undertaking. I’ve been stitching on this same piece of cloth every winter since 2010 or so. (It’s far too hot to stitch a tablecloth in your lap in a South Texas summer!)
Meanwhile, every thanksgiving whoever winds up at our table makes another impression. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends have all added their mark. Over time and sustained effort, this $7.88 Walmart special has become our most-prized family possession. I’ve caught the kids arguing about what happens to it when we die and I’ve threatened to slice it in two like King Solomon’s ruling.
This morning, as we sit in the binding between 2023 and 2024, Paul David Tripp’s words remind me of our family tablecloth.
“God’s work in you is a process, not an event. It progresses not in three or four huge moments, but in ten thousand little moments of change.”
(Paul David Tripp)
Depending on translation, in Ephesians 2:10 God actually refers to us as masterpieces. It’s shocking to me when I try to make peace with the mirror each morning. God considers us His best creation!
I fancy myself as a smidge of an artist, but I’m too hurried at the canvas. Masterpieces take time; they aren’t flung into existence in mere moments. Michealanglo cranked his neck under the Sistine Chapel for four long years before his fresco was “Finito!” I wonder how long it lived in his head before he picked up a brush?
We humans are in such a hurry, aren’t we? Read once and playing on repeat internally since; Ann Voskamp ever warns me: “Hurry makes amateurs of us all.” Deliberate strokes are the restraint of the master, coaxing the canvas toward meaningful creation.
God isn’t just an artist, He’s THE Artist. He is the originator of every element, supply and sort. And He, in infinite patience, is working the tools and clay of our life to create something breathtaking.
This work won’t be complete in a day or a week or four years. Our Artisan will spend a lifetime hunched over us: snipping and sewing, tugging and tucking, forming and reforming until His masterpiece is made perfect. We wind up a lot like that polyester table covering; made valuable through ten thousand intentional touches over a lifetime.
“The transforming work of grace is more of a mundane process than a series of a few dramatic events. Personal heart and life change is always a process.”
(Paul David Tripp)
"Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will continue to carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6 NIV)
Lord, forgive us for our hurry. We fail to realize what a destructive force it can be in our story. You are, in contrast, unhurried. You aren’t shaping us through a few watershed events, but working in our hearts day after day, decade after decade. Lord, today we acknowledge Your forbearance; You labor patiently with us even as we are impatient with You. Help us slacken our pace to revel in Your mastery. You truly are making all things new and it seems You start with us. May we learn to sit still under Your hand, happily obliging to the Master’s attentions. We appreciate Your ability to transform from common to keepsake. Amen.