Toddlers in the Cathedral

I am convinced that poets are toddlers in a cathedral, slobbering on wooden blocks and piling them up in the light of the stained glass. We can hardly make anything beautiful that wasn’t beautiful in the first place. We aren’t writers, but gleeful rearrangers of words whose meanings we can’t begin to know. When we manage to make something pretty, it’s only so because we are ourselves a flourish on a greater canvas.

This quote comes from this blog post which I found incredibly lyrical. Take a few minutes and go read it. It’s short. I’ll wait.

Glad to see you back here!

God has created a world that goes beyond our feeble words.  When God pens a masterpiece, it is the tale we live by. A few artists have been able to seize this story and wrestle it into ink on paper. Nothing will compare to the original, though. Nothing will ever compare to God’s ultimate story.

One Word is all it took to speak God’s greatest masterpiece. One Word that spilled its ink on a cross, bleeding its very life to save such little creations as to doubt their own writer. Compared to that story, all I write are whispers in the wind: useless and flitting to nothing.

Yet, God delights in our praise. He pours out his mirth on those who praise him even in these feeble ways. He doesn’t smile because our efforts are so good; he smiles because he has rescued us, and we recognize that. We bring him glory with what we do! We should keep praising, keep writing — not because we will try to overthrow God’s story, not because we want to supplement it, but because he can use our writing to bring him glory.

We may be nothing more than toddlers in a cathedral… but God delights in those burblings. So burble on! Continue to praise! Glory to God in the highest!


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