Timelapse

Life is more interesting to me in short bursts. I am easily distracted. And to the delight of some of my family and friends, I am easily startled. I become very focused when conversing; however, I may ignore what is said. Sometimes a comment will divert my attention to a different topic than what the talker is saying. When my son-in-law comes over to my woodshop, he makes noise as he approaches, so I know he is about to enter. It is never a good idea to suddenly jerk while using a power tool.

Social media is a part of my life. I seldom post anything other than an appropriate birthday greeting or an invitation to read one of my blog posts. What captures me is the little icon on Facebook that looks like a TV. When the cursor hovers over the icon, a tiny box opens with the word “watch” appearing. That’s my place to go. People post short videos on a wide variety of topics.

The format is suitable for me. If I am interested, I watch. If I am not interested, I move on to the following video. Seldom is there a video longer than fifteen minutes that matches my attention span.

Yesterday morning I came upon a fifteen-minute time-lapse video of a man painting a winter landscape. The video was mesmerizing, starting from a blank canvas to a completed oil painting. If it had been in real-time, I would have given up watching before the first color was committed to the canvas. But, instead, the action is jerky, and the speed revved a few notches.

In this particular timelapse video, the artist first drew a pencil sketch placing the main features of his vision. Then he began to add color. I could tell he was starting with the background, but his hand rocketed all over the canvas, seemingly helter-skelter. The more his brush darted back and forth over his creation, the more I wondered if he had a plan or was letting his “want to” govern his “ought to.” His process didn’t make sense to me. But it did to him, and that is all that mattered. I could not follow his process but was amazed at his results.

That is because I am a woodworker, not a painter. Therefore, my process of creating is different from his process.

Watching him and trying to predict his next paint application, I realized something about life. At least an insight into how my life has been and is being created. I am not the artist. I have a logical and comfortable idea of how God ought to work in establishing an effective and efficient “mind of Christ” worldview in me. (1 Corinthians 2:16)

I knew where the video’s artist was going to end because I saw the title of the painting. But I did not understand how the artist would achieve his finished product. That kept me interested.

I know what God’s finished product of “Fred Baldwin” will be, He told me, a son in the likeness of His son, Jesus. But it’s the process that brings His vision into a reality that, most of the time, baffles me. So often, it frustrates and even annoys me. So much of the time, I think of vegetables, and He thinks of Saturn’s rings. I don’t recognize that what is happening in my life has to do with His plan for me.

It is easy to recite the words Jesus taught us, “Your kingdom come, your will be done….” However, it is much harder to pray those words. Prayer implies that I am willing to allow God to do whatever is necessary, however necessary, to make the words of that prayer part of who I am.

The process of becoming the demonstration of God’s love is not usually understood by me or appreciated as it unfolds. However, it can become a source of joy and peace when I take the time to remember His craftsmanship shaping me into His image. I do not always see and seldom feel it, but I can always know it is happening. The process is “walking by faith.” (2 Corinthians 5:7)

“Therefore, you should pray like this:

Our Father in heaven,

your name be honored as holy.

Your kingdom come.

Your will be done

on earth as it is in heaven. (Matthew 6:9-10, CSB)

Photo – Third level of a condominium where we stayed in Destin, Florida.