How do my life and work paint what I believe about God?
He Saw That It Was Good p. 9
My life and work do paint a picture of faith. But faith in what? Myself, my injuries, my hurts, my successes as what defines me? Do the moments of my days splash the canvas around me with the joy of redemption or scatter the darker streaks of bitterness or discontent or pride? The brush I wield tells the story I believe. And so it is a matter of faith. Will I believe the lie that I deserve something better—from life, from God, from others? Or will I believe that I have been made in God’s image, called for a purpose and equipped to fulfill that purpose?
Lingering Over Leaves 