Think about the artist that God is.

Think about anything that you’ve purposely created, ever. A child, a sculpture, a prototype, a publication, anything. Creation comes from the intent to express something.

I think of this world as a living, breathing canvas with God being the artist. We see His particularity explicitly expressed in His instructions for Noah’s ark, in the blueprints for the tabernacle, and in the Levitical laws. And if we just open our eyes and take a look around us, we can see the extreme particularity and detail He gives to His work in the everyday.

It’s clear that our God has a specific vision in mind, which means His intent is and always has been to express something specific.

Anything I’ve ever created expresses something about me. It’s clear to me that God created us in His image to express something about Himself. This living, breathing canvas was the picture of perfection and then—

Enter: The Fall.

Something tragic happened: an uninvited color of paint was introduced to the canvas. This foreign paint is sin, and because this is a living, breathing canvas, it seeped and spread and grew.

How sad is it that this version of the picture is all we’ve ever known?

The beautiful image God created—the one we catch glimpses of but have never actually seen—became distorted by sin and will remain so until He makes all things new. When I say I’m right with God, but I’m not quite right, what I’m saying is that the paint that was never supposed to be, has reached me.

And it’s reached you.

We are part of the canvas.

We were born into a version of His creation already touched by sin, and its distortions are in us too.

The world around us is not yet as God intended, and neither are we.

AND YET.

The evidence of sin is in us and on us, and yet we stand before a holy God fully loved and accepted. We don’t have to work for it or toward it. We’re not almost or halfway right with God; we are called blameless and righteous before Him.

I just can’t with this undeserved acceptance.

I love that my ability to get everything right does not determine my standing with God. That’s huge. There are so many people who are—right now—living with the idea that they need to be the model of perfection in order to be worthy of a relationship with God. There are so many people running from Him because they have a distorted belief about what it means to be a Christian.

Ask me how I know.

I didn’t grow up in church, or have much of a background in Christianity. Handfuls of church visits and summers spent at my praying grandmother’s house were the extent of my Christian background.

And somewhere in my mid-teen years, I recall sitting in a pew and deciding that Christianity was a no for me. Not because I didn’t think it was real—it felt way too intense and strict to not be real.

My thoughts were along the lines, Who would choose this life if they didn’t actually believe what was being said?

I didn’t not believe what was being preached that day. I just wanted to do what I wanted to do, if I’m being honest. As you can guess, what I wanted to do did not align with the lifestyle that was being preached. I didn’t understand who Jesus was or what He’d done—my understanding was that He “loved” me, but I had to live a certain way.

Ask me what I know now.

As I’ve been silently screaming this entire post, I literally am a model of imperfection and God still desires a relationship with me.

What I know now is that God is not after superficial behavior modifications. Obedience isn’t the entry fee to a relationship with Him. What I didn’t know is that the desire to live the “certain way” I was running from wasn’t something I could manufacture even if I wanted to. Who knew that a genuine desire to honor Him develops as we spend time getting to know Him, grow to love Him, and increasingly want what He wants? What a concept!

I can laugh at how I used to think I was a “good person” and assumed heaven would absolutely be available to me based on the fact that I didn’t intentionally hurt anyone and showed a basic level of respect to everyone. My exalted view of my own behavior—absent of salvation or conviction—meant nothing to Him and did nothing for me.

Somehow, I convinced myself that I was good enough for heaven, while also believing Christianity demanded more of me than I had or was willing to give. Which, is a really common way of thinking.

But until we get to heaven, perfection just isn’t on the table. What we’re meant to do is follow the One who is. Jesus.

Alright, I have to say this. I just have to. I hate conversations that touch on not being perfect but don’t talk about the fight we’re called to. As I said in the beginning of this post, we are in a lifelong knockout, drag-out battle. That’s because we’re not meant to make peace with our distortions, we’re meant to go to war with them.

Being unfinished isn’t permission to stay as we are. Grace was never meant to make us comfortable with what God is transforming.

I think there’s a thick line between accepting the nature of our imperfect condition and walking headfirst into abusing grace. A thick one. That’s all I’ll say on the topic.

What’s true is:

We will not achieve sinless perfection in this life.

AND

We are absolutely called to pursue holiness in this life.

There’s so much more I want to unravel here—particularly what it actually looks like to live as someone God has already declared righteous while He is still actively forming you. That deserves a conversation of its own—and we will have it.

We are unfinished artwork.

As we follow God, He will continue revealing and correcting the distortions that get in the way of the beautiful image He always intended for us to reflect.

What a blessing to be called righteous.
How sobering to know that sin’s presence will remain.

God is redeeming His living, breathing canvas and until He makes all things new—we are righteous sinners.