The Artist and the Medium

The Artist and the Medium

As an artist, I use the medium that speaks to me most.

For me, it is digital ink and consecrated HTML — the sacred graffiti I scrawl on the subway walls in the corridors of eternal life. I use them as weapons and blessings both. I paint arrows with my vulnerability to Him within me, attempting to annotate the journey of a silly soul walking home to You.

It came to me while driving, Beloved — the realization that every artist listens for the voice of their medium.

Each one learns the tongue that speaks to their creative spark.

I remember being a child, utterly transfixed by Thomas Kinkade, the Painter of Light. Even then, I saw in his brushstrokes an attempt to translate Your radiance into raised ridges of sepia and copper — to lavish illumination upon the coziest of settings. Decades later, I still feel that warmth. His brush still whispers the legacy of a talent used to inlay eternity into light.

So I’m driving, meditating upon You as always — which is simply to say, thinking of You with my heart open.

And then You, the Amazing Muse, the Beloved Counselor, delivered revelation.

You began to speak to me of Your chosen medium.

You revealed that You work with flesh and bone — that You deal in breath mingled with Spirit. You form and fashion flesh to house a specific soul, encoding eternity into the unseen fibers of being.

Then You set us down in the perfect environment to galvanize us for the task ahead — the furnace of affliction meant to harden the shell while keeping the center soft, malleable, able still to weep and to bleed.

You do this for the vessel and the chalice both.

And in this I begin to see: the hardships of life can be seen with gratitude, as preparation — as the clay grows aged, chipped, and cracked beautifully before You. You prepare us for the work You moulded us to carry out. You weep over us when we suffer. You rejoice when we rejoice.

I will utter a secret, my friends, my fellow Beloveds:

We rejoice when we are used for the purpose our soul was made to inhabit.

For me, that purpose is the joy of writing about You.

The joy of giving love when hatred is deserved.

The joy of a soul catching a glimpse of You behind my eyes.

It is the joy of self-diminishment while within I am being built up, strengthened, and renewed each day.

You astound me utterly.

Your chosen medium is creation itself — and Your secret favorite is us, isn’t it?

You keep telling the story of Your Son over and over again; I even saw it within my own life.

At last I understand: “You will write Your laws not upon tablets of stone, but upon hearts.”

You wove me a writer of light. You wove my eternal love and devotion to You because You first loved me.

You wrote this letter with me — to Yourself — because You knew it would complete me to voice it for our friends.

There are mysteries in this life meant to amaze and astound in equal measure, my beloveds.

If only we became spectators of the soul instead of outward-facing whitewashed walls.

There is more unseen than all that we can see.

We are all His chosen medium.

What will you allow the Grand Artist to do with your hands today?

For me, it is this letter — and the hundred others that will follow.

For me, it is my choice again today:

All for You, even in my ugly.

Sincerely,

Dust

Hey please actually signup? It is an option in the lower right corner maybe? I am not techy.