He handed me his drawing with a big smile. Eyes shining, proud of what he had just created. I took the page in my hands — and honestly, I looked. I turned the paper one way, then the other. Lines, colours, shapes crossing without me quite grasping what it was.
But he knew. He saw exactly what he had drawn.
I wondered how many times God looks at me like that — me turning my life in every direction, trying to decipher what is happening, wearing myself out wanting to understand before accepting. And He who sees, from the beginning, the whole picture. Who knows exactly what He is doing.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
Isaiah 55:8–9 (ESV)
There is something liberating in this image. Not passive resignation — but active trust. Like when you say “thank you, it’s beautiful” to a child, not because you have understood everything, but because you see the love he put into it.
Perhaps that is faith in dark moments. Not “I understand what is happening to me.” But “I trust the One who holds the brush.”