You white washed my canvas,
Covered the mess I made.
Creating new brush strokes,
Of the person you imagined.
The brush gently glides across the canvas,
Feeling like a feather stroking my heart,
That brings me warmth and peace radiating through my soul.
I am fully aware of the old layer underneath as a reminder of how not to be.
A reminder of the free gift of grace you poured on me.
You, the creator, take my messes and use them for good,
Showing others, the path to the one true God.
You, the creator, is recreating me, taking my messy painting, you bought with the blood of your son Jesus. Transforming it to a masterpiece, that is unique and cannot be sold to another.

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