Skip to main content

How Great Thou Art: God's glory in the Arts






I remember how I saw colour that day. The green trees, the blue sky, the brown soil, everything vivid and bright. It was the usual walking route with the usual after-work tiredness, but, as if my eyes had been opened from blindness, the mundane became vibrant and I stopped to take it all in.
The words from the popular hymn, How Great Thou Art, come to mind:
When through the woods and forest glades I wander

And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees

When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur

And hear the brook, and feel the gentle breeze

The greatness of God’s works was displayed before me, like an artist exhibiting his masterpieces in a gallery. Hidden in the seemingly dull and ordinary was His beauty being uncovered. I thought to myself “how great is His creation, the work of His hands.” “The heavens declare the glory of God, the sky above proclaims His handiwork” (Psalm 19:1).
O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,

Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;

I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,

Thy power throughout the universe displayed

The #creatives of this world only express what The Greatest Artist has gifted to them. They play their instruments to His score; their brush strokes paint His imagination and their poetry flows in the rhythms of His grace.
They are in themselves an expression of His skill in all its diversity. Just as the heavens and the earth declares God’s craftmanship, you and I are also His work. Isaiah 64:8 says, “… O Lord, you are our Father, we are the clay, and You are the Potter, we all are the work of Your hand”. Ephesians 2:10 states that we are His workmanship.
We are not works that are only displayed to be admired, like ornaments, we ourselves have skills imputed to us. In the Old Testament, when it was time to build the Tabernacle, Exodus 35: 35 tells us that God filled the workers with skill to do all kinds of work as engravers, designers, embroiderers in blue, purple and scarlet yarn and fine linen, and weavers—all of them skilled workers and designers. Each artist was filled with God's skill.
I was very encouraged to read that God gives wisdom for creativity (Exodus 28:3). He gives His Spirit and His wisdom for you to use your craft for His glory. Take a look at Bezaliel, in Exodus 35: 31, we see that “God has filled him with the Spirit of God, with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge and with all kinds of skills to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze, to cut and set stones, to work in wood and to engage in all kinds of artistic crafts".
Dear #creative, are you wondering where your skills lie in the building of God’s kingdom? Use your art to tell of His greatness like the skies do (Psalm 19:1). Your platform may not be in speaking engagements like some preachers do, it may not be in church leadership as pastors do, but in you, God has put His spirit to make artistic declarations of His endless grace.
Romans 12:6 says “having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them…” Your unique platform is an art form.
Be encouraged,
Love
FeyVored


p.s. Thanks to Instagram and Twitter, I can no longer use the word #creative without using the #. Without the #, #creative is not cool. Only the true #creatives will understand :P.
p.p.s Photo by FeyVored at Brockhole, the Lake District. If you haven't been, you have to go!

Comments

  1. Fantastic and inspiring Feyvored, as a musician with a heart yearning after the creator (God), it is refreshing to be reminded that God gives wisdom for creativity. May the grace to use our platform God's glory continue to abide in us.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Prologue- Memoirs of A Skilled Hunter

Dawn was drawing close. The gentle breeze came as a consolation, symphatising with the wild for bearing with the downpour that befell the night. This time, the predator walked along an unusual path, the rays of sun bouncing off the shy green of wet leaves providing a source of illumination to its glowing eyes. It had spotted prey and now it was calculating the next move... I hadn't seen her in ages. I watched intently as she made her way towards me, her hips swinging graciously from side-to-side, her movement emphasized by the frills on her flowery gown, accentuating her hourglass figure. It's been 10 years since I last saw her and it seemed every part of her body, visible to my eyes, had been renovated in heaven time and time again. She had become much more attractive, she was beautiful. The predator studied its prey. Well-hidden by the shadows cast by the tall fruitless trees, it was being careful. Avoiding every broken b...

Uni: Me, Mini-me.

Today is Thursday. I'm dreading the night mainly because of the aftermath- a very messy kitchen, quite smelly corridors and grumpy cleaners. My first semester of Uni, I must say, wasn't at all what I had anticipated. I remember coaching myself mentally, preparing for the hard times to come, having an escape plan in case of a metaphoric fire and a Plan B if that didn’t work. Anyway, as it happened, my plan B wasn't well premeditated, lacking enough detail to guide me through smoky situations. All it had inscribed on it was “RUN”. Thursday nights are Mercy Nights- when students get free entry into an over-hyped nightclub. As that isn’t my cup of tea, I tend to stay indoors, watching a movie or trying to catch up with work- the latter being more frequent. The reason I dread these nights is because my flatmates have a pre-party, a chaotic one, where over 10 people squeeze into our kitchen, blast the music through the roof and scream at the top of their lungs in chants for ...

SimPerfection

Simulated Perfection. A little boy kicked his red mud-stained ball towards me. A little too high the kick was, as the ball bounced off my right knee, leaving a stain that was conspicuous. He ran up to me giggling, a very boisterous one, like he had no clue what he had done. He pointed to the ball, still inattentive to the frown that had formed on my face, which had on it clear signs of tiredness. Before he could say anything, I picked him up and spun him around, his little feet hanging high, drawing wide circles in space. "Mummy, Mummy!" The little boy's older sister ran out of the house to give me a big hug. I dropped him on the ground and squeezed them both tight in a warm embrace. I had missed them and it was obvious that they had eagerly awaited my arrival. Joseph, my 4 year old boy, gave me a slightly wet kiss on my cheek and Deborah, a very smart 7 year old, wasn't slow in noticing the stain on my knee. I exp...