Here, in this painting, in these (hopefully) creative meditations, you will see the same sky and the same sun, the same story of struggle, of all and grace, of descent and ascent of death and resurrection. The same God. The same gifts. If He's not tired of it, why should I be? If his brush is still in His hand, if His Words still roll, what can I do but stick my tongue out the corner of my mouth and diligently (but pitifully) rip him off? What can I do but meditate on His meditations?
I do get tired of it, sometimes. I get bored with the same story of my weakness, and His enough-ness. I get tired of being taught the same lesson again and again. I wonder if God feels like I do when I say over and over "don't hit your brother!" and "stop wrestling" and "use kind words" and "WORK IT OUT!"
I imagine him, not with tired mommy eyes and a snappy voice, but with a playful, patient smile, as He teaches and reteaches me, redirecting me, rebuking me, comforting me, over and over and over though His Word.
"I will take care of you."
"I am enough."
"This isn't how it's always going to be."
"My love is your strength in weakness."
"This is my body, given for you."
"You are forgiven."
"You are loved."
His grace is new every morning, and it is also the same, and this is a wonderful thing.
Meditate on His meditaitons.
Hear His Word, and steep in it.
See His living creations, and take time to delight in them.
God, help me not to tire of the glorious repetition of your grace in my life.
Death by living p. xi