The Brushstrokes of the Creator

🎨 The Brushstrokes of the Creator

By Kateb  Shunnar

Some folks will size you up before you’ve even opened your mouth. They’ll glance at your shoes, clock your posture, scan your scars, and just like that...poof....they think they’ve got you all figured out. “Oh, they’re that type,” they say, as if life hands out personality manuals at birth. People be real quick with the Sharpies, labeling you with things you never said and stamping you with things you never did. But thank the heavens the Creator ain’t like people.

See, I’ve come to believe and I mean deep down in my marrow that the Creator is more like an abstract painter. Not the kind who paints what’s easy to see. No, not a portrait artist with stiff poses and lifeless smiles. The Creator’s a wild, divine artist, slinging color across the cosmos, dripping grace and mercy like oils on canvas, brushing with intention even where the world only sees chaos. And most importantly He sees beauty in mess.

Where the world sees scribbles and stains, the Creator sees texture. Where others see broken pieces, He sees a mosaic waiting to shine. He ain’t looking at the cracks in our character or the dents in our dignity. He’s looking at the depth of our soul, at that sacred space we’ve tried so hard to hide. That’s where the real masterpiece lives.

I learned this not from a pulpit, not from some tightly bound theology book, but in life in pain, in getting knocked flat, and in watching those I love do the same. My grandmother, Celestine, used to hum while she cooked, stirring pots like she was casting blessings into each spoonful. She’d say, “Baby, folks gone look at your outside, but the Creator sees your inside and He got better eyes than all of us.” And Marva, my momma, oh she’d look you in the face and say, “People gon’ talk, baby. Let ‘em. Just make sure your heart is right with the One who painted it.”

And when life tried to teach me otherwise when people tried to write me off like I was yesterday’s news I had to remember: the Creator doesn’t deal in popularity contests. The Creator doesn’t vote you off the island. Nah. He’s still there, brush in hand, adding layers to the canvas of your soul when everyone else swore the painting was finished... or ruined.

You ever seen an abstract painting? I mean, really seen one? Not just glanced and said, “I don’t get it,” but sat with it? It’s wild, unpredictable, messy even. You might see a smudge and think, “What is that supposed to be?” But then if you’re patient it hits you. The smudge is the story. The imperfection is what pulls it all together. That’s how the Creator sees us.

And that’s how I wanna see people too.

Look, I get it..it’s hard. We live in a world where everything’s on display. Filters, followers, fake smiles. We’re told to look successful, sound confident, and never let anyone see us sweat. But behind those perfectly curated snapshots? Folks are hurting. Wounded. Worn out. And still, they’re judged on their outer frame. As if beauty lives in bone structure and not in kindness. As if worth is measured by bank accounts and not how you treat folks who can’t do nothing for you.

But what if we changed the brush?

What if we started seeing people like the Creator does as unfinished works of sacred art? What if we stopped squinting at the surface and started marveling at the soul? I mean, some folks walk around like crumpled paper, all torn up and tired. But beneath that? There's poetry waiting to be read. There’s a spark. A shimmer. A divine whisper.

And can I be real with you? Sometimes the ugliest chapters in your life make the most beautiful brushstrokes in the end. You just gotta let the Painter finish. Don’t snatch the canvas away too soon. Don’t let other people tell you what your painting’s worth. Let the Creator define it. Let the Artist keep painting.

You might feel like your life looks like a mess right now. Maybe it’s all harsh lines and clashing colors. But give it time. The Master Painter’s got a vision you can’t see yet. He’s already got the shades of grace, forgiveness, love, and purpose on His palette, and baby, He’s not done with you.

So here’s what I say:

To the one who’s been told they’re not enough He sees your potential.

To the one who’s been judged for what they wear, how they speak, where they come from He sees your heart.

To the one who’s been thrown away by folks who never took the time to know you He’s still holding you in His hands.

And let me sprinkle a little humor in this stew before it gets too heavy ain’t it funny how folks who haven’t even finished their own painting got the most to say about yours? Like, “No thanks, Brenda, go clean your own brush.”

But for real, let’s try just try to paint like the Creator. To live like abstract artists ourselves. To see past the noise. To recognize the sacred in the ordinary. To look at each other and say, “I see you not your past, not your mistakes, not the chipped edges but you, the soul beneath.”

And if you can’t quite get there today, that’s okay. Just keep trying. Keep loving. Keep praying. Keep showing up. The canvas of your life is still being shaped, stroke by stroke, by the One who sees the beauty in all your layers even the messy, muddy, misunderstood ones.

We might not understand the painting until we step back at the end and see what it became. But trust this: it’ll be breathtaking.