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Deffman
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Country: United States
State: Kansas
Birthday: 7/2/1982
Gender: Male
Interests: God, drawing, watching movies, listening to music, Buffy, Smallville, Space Ghost, Video Games, Office Space, Lord of the Rings...
Expertise: bass guitar for portico seven, writing poetry, writing fiction, web design
Occupation: Student
Industry: Entertainment
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
MSN: bassmanlives@aol.com
Member Since:
8/4/2003
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| Brush strokes.
It's not a new analogy to the work of God. If one were to look at an impressionistic painting up close, all he or she would see is gobs of paint. It isn't until one looks back that one sees the picture, whether it be a landscape or of a shoe. This is a good analogy of seeing the work of God in hindsight, but as an artist there is so much that is missed not seeing it or taking part in it happen and realize that this is the work of a true artist.
Along with writing and playing music, I also sketch portraits. Whether it be of Jesus or of a friend of mine, the process is always amazing. It starts out with just an outline, lines that make a face that looks rather alien. As I begin to shade and fill in the gaps of those lines I see the face strating to look back at me. The eyes look at me as I shade, and what was once just black lines on white paper becomes something. I put part of myself into every sketch, every poem, and every bit of music or lyric I write. This is what I am passionate about.
Is it a wonder that this reflects what God is passionate about, when God created man in His own image? No. What's amazing, is I am always completely struck with joy while drawing or writing a poem and seeing things take shape, but so often I miss it when God is doing it on a much bigger canvas that He has placed me on. There are times, like right now, where I can see the strokes, and I can see an image here and there and its beautiful and it moves me, but I don't see how it all fits together. I don't see the big picture. Its not the black lines that look like the face of an alien, but instead its the eyes that are staring back at me while the shading is being added.
And here is where the human artist differs from God. So many times I've looked at those eyes, just really excited about the end result, and seeing it come to shape. Then it happens...a stray mark or an eraser smudge. A mouth that's too far left, right, down, up, a nose that's too big, ears that are lop-sided...something almost always messes up on the first draft. So what do I do? I try to change the eyes, but the end result is the same: the trash can. God doesn't need first drafts. His first draft is His final draft. However, I tend to make His final draft look like a first draft. I see the eyes, and I get excited where things are going. What I don't realize is that in the draft I see, things aren't quite right. My scope is so limited that I can only see the shading as it happens, moment by moment and day by day. Its beautiful, its exciting, its moving, but I still have a desire to see the whole picture.
Brush strokes. Pencil lines. Words. These are tools of an earthly artist. Many like to think of God using nature as His tool. Its true, He can, but there is a much bigger tool that God uses to paint this grand picture.
That is love. | | |
| This album is amazing... I still have brief moments of anger and depression that things happened this way. I don't know if we'll ever be friends again, but the thought that someday we might gives me a little hope and makes me a little less depressed. I LOVE it when God speaks and romances me through music. He knows just how to get to my heart. | | |
| Remember when Jesus told the parable of the man who built his house on rock as opposed to the man who built his house on sand? For a second, imagine another man who built half of a house on rock and then he ran out of materials. Instead of going to the market to buy what he needs (wood, nails, sheet rock), he takes the sand and says, "What lovely sand this is. I think it'll make for a good house." So he tries to finish the house with sand. Of course, he ends up frustrated, angry, and depressed because the sand is always shifting, it never stays in place, and in the end he still ends up with just half a house. That's what happened to me. I tried to build something out of this really good looking sand. On first glance the sand even seemed to have a lot of substance and could bring the potential to building a really nice house. However, I soon found out that sand is sand, and there's absolutely nothing a person can do to make sand into a 2 x 4. I came to this terrible conclusion way too late, because the storm came and I got all wet and nasty, and now half of my house is flooded. So, I'm going to the marketplace to get the things I need to finish this house. | | |
| Its amazing how sad and angry I can get. Tonight, I felt like just hiding under the covers and crying. Yes, guys cry when their hearts get broken. I can't help but feel sometimes that someone just shoved a shovel into my chest, or my heart has been yanked out and I'm watching it beat on the table. Its overdramatic, but that's how it literally feels sometimes. It seriously hurts to care for someone so much and them not give a lick about you. It hurts that the one person I want to care, the one person I want to call me and say, "I'm sorry this happened," doesn't. That's about the point when I usually pound my computer desk or punch a wall in anger. There's something about loud noises and my fist hurting that makes me feel a little better. Its not long before my heart feels like its beating out of my chest again. I just want to scream and yell and cry and punch things. I don't really feel like loving ever again, but I know I will. I don't want to get hurt like this again, but I know I will. Broken hearts just come with the terriotory of following Christ. That doesn't mean I have to let people walk all over me, though. I'll be in this place for awhile. I'll be depressed and angry for weeks, maybe even months. That's what a funk is. They last quite awhile for us guys after stuff like this happens. Hugs mean a lot at times like these. It sucks that this happened. | | |
| So things went all topsy turvy on me again. I got my heart broken, and another friendship has come and gone. Its hard and it sucks...but it happens. I'm not going to tear myself up about it, because it wasn't my fault. | | |
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