God made me with artistic talent.
God made me to write.
I am not a plumber. I am not an electrician. I cannot repair cars.
I am not a cow. Cows have a multitude of uses, and most of those uses come after the cow stops giving milk. Dog food, glue, belts and gloves and purses and shoes and jackets.
Book covers.
I am not a cow. I don’t have to wait until I’m dead to be useful. I may never look at a leather book cover the same way. God made me to fulfill a purpose.
I’m so glad I get to do it while I’m alive!
No more guilt because God made me to be something awesome, something I enjoy. Whoever heard of a car mechanic complaining that he hates working on cars, that it takes up his every thought? Who ever heard of a car mechanic caring whether people thought he should be paid to do his job? Really, where does this guilt come from?
Do people need leather book covers? Leather jackets? Leather gloves or purses? No, they want.
My job is to be so good at what God called me to be that people think they need what I have to offer. Because what I have to offer is a glimpse into what God can do with someone with a little talent and a lot of baggage, someone who is submitted to the process of God’s refinery.
Someone who’s not going to let what I’m not stop me from becoming what He IS.
Because He’s called me into His likeness.