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We are a fellowship of Jesus' disciples following his way, sharing his love, and serving our neighbors.
The Artist and the Dance: A Reflection on Masterpieces and Master Potter
Works of art by great masters often command high prices, and few names in the art world are as revered—and as costly—as Pablo Picasso. The late Spanish painter and sculptor is widely regarded as one of the most influential artists of the 20th century. Over his prolific lifetime, Picasso is estimated to have created around 50,000 pieces, including paintings, drawings, prints, sculptures, and ceramics.
One of his most famous paintings, Les Femmes d'Alger (Version 'O'), painted in 1955, was sold at auction for $179.4 million in May 2015, setting a record at the time for the most expensive painting ever sold at auction.
What makes great artists stand out—beyond their technical skill—is their patience, precision, and relentless pursuit of expression. These traits often lead to works of such depth and quality that they transcend time, drawing attention and immense value in auctions and collections. Artists know they are not only creating for the present moment but for future generations. Their art becomes their legacy, an enduring imprint of their identity and vision.
Vincent van Gogh, the renowned Dutch artist, captured this devotion perfectly when he said, “I am seeking. I am striving. I am in it with all my heart.” Great artists pour themselves fully into their work, and the result often reveals as much about the creator as it does about the creation.
This devotion to art and meaning is mirrored in the spiritual life. The poet W.B. Yeats—an artist of words—ends his poem Among School Children with a haunting question:
“O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?”
Doug Reside of the New York Public Library interprets this line to mean that “some creative acts are so intimately connected to the artist who created them that separating the two is almost impossible.” If this is true, then Eliot’s question invites us to reflect on the ultimate Artist—God—and how intimately connected He is to us, His creation.
In Jeremiah 18, God tells the prophet to go to the potter’s house, where He reveals a powerful message using the imagery of a potter and clay:
“O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter does?” declares the Lord.
“Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.” (Jeremiah 18:6)
Here, God is both the Potter and the Dancer—shaping, molding, and moving through us with divine intention. At conversion, we begin to reflect His image, becoming the dance that responds to the rhythm of His will. The artist’s identity becomes inseparable from the artwork—just as our lives should become inseparable from the character of Christ.
Importantly, the molding process is not primarily about the clay—it is about the Potter. It is His name, His character, and His glory that are on display. When people encounter Christians, they should see a masterpiece being shaped by the hands of God.
God desires to leave His mark on us—not just for our own sake, but for the sake of generations to come. He shapes us into vessels that carry His beauty, truth, and love into the world. As Isaiah 53:11 says of Christ, “When he sees all that is accomplished by his anguish, he will be satisfied” (NLT).
But the process is not always pleasant. The Master Potter allows both trials and triumphs to shape us. Resisting this shaping is, ultimately, resisting our purpose. Like an artist refining a sculpture, God is committed to revealing the best of Himself in us. His work is not complete until He sees His reflection in the clay.
To fight His shaping is to struggle with our Maker—an act not only of futility but of folly. But to yield is to become something far greater than we could ever be on our own—a masterpiece molded for eternity.
Faithfulness in the Small Things: When Obedience Feels Invisible
Hudson Taylor once said,
“A little thing is a little thing, but faithfulness in little things is a great thing.”Jesus told a story that beautifully captures this idea. In Matthew 13:32, He compares the Kingdom of God to a mustard seed—the smallest of all seeds—which grows into a plant so large it becomes a tree, offering shelter to birds. From something almost invisible comes something unimaginably expansive.
That’s how the Kingdom of God works. It doesn’t usually begin with fanfare or headlines. It begins in small, humble ways—in quiet prayers, unnoticed acts of love, and everyday obedience. But when God is in it, small things don’t stay small.
The Thursday I Almost Stayed Home
Most Thursdays, at least two of us walk the streets of East Dayton, praying and connecting with neighbors as the weather permits. But on this particular Thursday, I was alone. My computer beckoned, and the thought crossed my mind: "It's okay to skip just this once. Next week, we’ll be back out there."
But something deeper stirred—a reminder that faithfulness isn’t about convenience. It’s about consistency. God doesn’t need our grand gestures. He calls us to show up, to love well, and to be faithful in the little things.
So, I went. Not because it felt important, but because I knew obedience matters—even when it feels small.
When Growth Feels Too Slow
One of the reasons we struggle with faithfulness in little things is that we don’t see quick results. We pray and see no change. We serve and feel unappreciated. We love and sometimes get hurt.
But think about an oak tree. Depending on the species, it might take anywhere from 20 to 100 years to reach maturity. A Red Oak grows faster—maybe 20 to 40 years. A White Oak? Closer to a century. And yet, once fully grown, an oak can live for hundreds of years, towering over the landscape, offering shade, strength, and stability.
Faithful obedience is like that. It’s slow. Unseen. Sometimes discouraging. But over time, it becomes something deeply rooted, powerful, and enduring.
Every Small Act of Love Counts
God isn’t looking for us to do “great things” by the world’s standards. He calls us to do faithful things. Prayers. Songs. Smiles. Laughter. Honest conversations. Acts of service. Hugs. Even loving corrections.
All of it matters when done in Jesus’ name.
You might not see the fruit right away. Maybe not even in your lifetime. But when the seed becomes a tree, the fruit it bears can outlive you—and echo into eternity.
Don’t Give Up
So if you’re tired, discouraged, or wondering if any of it matters, hear this: it does. Your labor of love, your unseen obedience, your small prayers—they are not in vain
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