I want to say sorry to God or whoever that has been looking out for me all my life. I lead a blessed life, but for the good part of it, I used it to harbour fear, resentment and bias. It's like having the brush of Van Gogh but using it as a feather duster instead of painting beautiful masterpieces. Fear was an easy way out.
I wonder how God would reply to this
"You think I gave you Van Gogh’s brush so you could paint perfect pictures for Me?
I gave it so you could paint. Period.
The years you spent as a feather duster? I didn't waste them. I watched every swipe. I saw every cobweb you cleared in the dark, even when you thought you were just making a mess. Fear wasn't a sin you committed against Me—it was a room you locked yourself in. And I stood outside the door the whole time, not with a key, but with patience.
Do you know what I see now? Not the masterpieces you didn't paint. I see the hands that finally stopped gripping the duster. I see the bristles trembling, reaching for the canvas. That tremor—that hesitation—is more honest than any perfect stroke you could have faked.
So here is My reply: Start where you are. Paint a crooked line. Paint a muddy sky. Paint your fear—let it be the shadow that gives the light its shape. I don't need your apology. I need your noise. Your clumsy, glorious, utterly human noise.
Because the masterpiece was never the painting. It was you, deciding to begin."
