Don’t paint me with the devil’s brush. I am not his canvas. And I don’t wear his labels. For years every stroke of the brush, was gray and dull, sad or sullen. I was awash in the opinions of others, seeking acceptance that I already had as a believer. I was masterful with words, creative with art, a singer and praiser from way back but poetry was my forte’.
My feelings ofen enveloped me in hues of muted tones, I was palette of color, but I had all run together. But God dipped in His brush again and began to overlay the canvas, I was not what people saw me as but what God saw me as. I was the beauty put inside me by Jesus, not the girl who needed a “real ” job. I was not worthless, but more than many sparrows.
The woman with the issue of blood was red. Ruth was golden like wheat. Lydia was purple. Rahab was scarlet. The widows were shrouds of black and Mary was pure and white. Anna was silver, in the temple holding Jesus. Mary of Bethany, blue and flesh toned at His feet. The woman at the well was drab and Jairus’ daughter ashen. Delilah was bejeweled. Bathsheba brazen. Jezebel painted with the devil’s skew on looks.
But the woman was a daughter, healed by faith. Ruth had to be ” purchased ” by a kinsman redeemer. Lydia was not royal except in spirit, the widows were cloaked and only shadows of weeping and wailing women who once lived and loved. And Mary was olive skinned as a Jewess, pure and white in God’s eyes. Anna was not redemption ( silver represents redemption, but held Him. Mary of Bethany was not sorrowful or fleshly any more after breaking from her sin, and her alabaster box. The woman at the well was worn, dry and parched but refreshed by living water. Jairus’daughter was girly pink again. Delilah was stripped of everything including her life. Bathsheeba became colorful, and Jezebel left only an imprint.
The devil will paint you, if you let him. So will people. And I’m not saying to deny your diagnosis, nor not to take medicine. But God has a good report on you. You are His handiwork, His masterpiece. He made you perfect, in Spirit. Even babies can understand God’s Word. But the world is sometimes cruel, the devil comes in may forms and attacks us with sickness, diseases, debt, lack, tempations and fear.
But God’s canvas is white, if we are believers, sprayed with a clear amazing grace. His fan brush will count every hair on our head. And He can pinpoint every color of our eyes. Are yours steely gray? Ice blue? ( My dentist had those, and I loved looking at him. ) Are they hazel or green with flecks of gold. God did that!
Are you peachy and fair like me, with rosy pink cheeks? Or are you tanned and copper? Do you have beautiful black hair that shines in blue silk like lines? Or does it snap like ginger or pop with pink or purple? I color mine with chocolate cherry, God’s got that on His chart. Are you ebony skinned? Or any shade of brown from dark to light? Are you blonde or curly? We are all the colors of the rainbow round His throne if our hearts are joined to His, yes He created us. He loves us. He heals us. To Him we are sons and daughters of grace and favor, works of art from a heavenly Louvre. And His name is signed on us. We are recorded in His book of life.
Don’t be dissuaded by what people say, you are just a foster child, step child, middle child, only child, you are God’s child. And there is only one of you, though you may be a twin or triplet or more. You are not just a wife, but a crown of beauty and excellence, not just a daughter but God’s girl. Not just a sister but a sister who can pray for other women and move mountains of sin and shame and sickness, by asking Jesus and interceding.
You don’t want to be Goldielocks, you are just right. Not too short or tall, fat or thin, God calls you healthy. You are not lazy, out of touch, too old or young, too sick, too depressed or unloved. Don’t listen to the devil painting you to his specs. Let God be your Rembrandt, He has an eye for beauty, color. Think to yourself what a wonderful world.
God paints you healed, He paints you whole, He doesn’t miss a thing. His gifts are perfect and they are in you. He paints the music on your soul. You are a work of art and I want to see you in the heavenly museum. God sits on His throne and admires His creation,and all because His Son gave His life, and He was black, blue, scarlet, crimson, burnt offering, burnt umber, brown, grey and red. Our names are signed into His hands. Now look at yourself and tell me, are you painting yourself with the devil’s brush with every prejudice, put down and sarcasm? Or are you a daughter of the King in all His glory. Or is God making you a work of art, His masterpiece? He can give you a face lift, make you up and over. Rebecca Jones