“If God was a blank canvas — what would you paint?”
This question rang in my ears during a breathwork session tonight.
At first, it began as a vision where I saw God using brilliant colors to paint all of the intricacies of my brain. The lobes, the cords, the fissures — whatever else is up there in that noggin’ of mine.
It felt like such a beautiful reminder of how, even though I struggle so deeply with my thought life, with how to navigate it, and with how to care for my mental health — all of it is still beautiful and always has been. It is good. It is not my enemy, even though it feels like it sometimes. I am not merely my thoughts — I am more than just the neurons firing in my head.
I was also able to see that all of my thoughts are safe and I am capable of taking care of them. And the process of trying to figure it all out is actually a fascinating journey and my brain is an art piece of its own. It often feels scary, but when viewing it from a more Divine perspective tonight, I could look at my brain the same way I marvel at a sunset. (And if you know me at all, you know I live for a good sunset).
I sat with all of that for a little while, all of the beautiful colors and realizations.
And then it morphed into more.
In the beginning of the session, I had expressed a whole lot of anger toward God and others and myself, but suddenly my perspective completely shifted. I began to marvel at everything and everyone with a sense of curiosity, rather than judgment. Somehow my anger turned into holding space for the humanness of it all. I was able to see some of the people who had hurt me the deepest in a new light. They became canvases in my view — canvases that are still worthy to be painted on.
After all of those experiences was when I felt God nudge me with, “so, what would it look like if you painted Me?”
Whew, what a profound question. There weren’t many thoughts that came to mind about this. I stared at the page and resisted the urge to try to fill in some sort of “answers” to the mysteries of God. I’m used to filling in the blanks in Sunday school, having concrete reasons and Bible verses to explain it all.
But tonight, I left it as it was.
I had dropped from my head into my heart in that moment. It became more than what words could say. It was an inner-knowing of the innate goodness of God weaved throughout everything.
I wonder if every day begins with a blank canvas of the Divine, ever-changing with the colors of each person we encounter, each agape moment we experience, the deep love we learn to breathe in with every new moment, and even the pain, confusion, and suffering.
I wonder if, after the sun goes down and we lay our heads down to rest — maybe we do awaken to new mercies each morning.
If God was a blank canvas — what would you paint?
“God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.
They’re created new every morning.”