260 The Body’s Brushstroke
Why Yahuah Paints His Will with the Whole Canvas, Not Just One Color
Good morning, and hello friends.
Today’s article starts in a place that might feel different. For a moment, it might seem like it’s about me. If you think on it, my messages here have never really been about me; they’ve been about what Yahuah, the Father Most High, is doing in, through, and around me. I ask for your patience. Stay with me until the end. You’ll see it is still about Him.
For those whom have been walking this path with me for a while, you know this story. But there are many new faces here now, so I’ll recap.
Yahuah revealed Himself to me on the night of October 3rd, 2024. It was a kairos moment…a divine puncture in time. For months after, I was a closeted Christian. My internal world had been upended, my heart was undergoing surgery by an unseen hand, but externally, I played the same part. I didn’t want my family, my friends, my social circle to know. I didn’t want to become one of those “#$%&*” I had silently judged for most of my life.
So I carried on in secret. Just me, a Bible, and prayers muttered in the dark. My family thought my distance was due to the all-consuming care for my ailing mother. Thankfully, they gave me space. God used that space to build a foundation in silence.
Then, a few months in, He instructed me to step out of the closet. It was time. And when I did, the people around me began to notice the fingerprints of transformation. The drinking stopped. The pot vanished from my life. My vocabulary, once salted with the speech of a sailor, was rinsed clean. Compulsive behaviors I’d wrestled with for decades slipped away, some instantly, others gradually. The change wasn’t my project. It was His evidence.
One of the first lessons He taught me was to recognize His work, not mine. I joined faith communities, both digital and physical. And He showed me something beautiful and humbling: my daily provisions began to arrive through the people around me. Some were believers, fellow walkers of The Way. Many were not. God showed me how He fulfills His will through His creations, whether those creations know they are serving the Creator or are actively denying His existence.
That season was a masterclass in humility. God was rewarding me for being humble, a characteristic I would never, in a million years, have attributed to myself. My help came from places and people I had previously judged, dismissed, or looked down upon. He was breaking me of my pride, showing me that His economy of grace operates through channels I would never have chosen.
But that’s not what this article is about.
This is about what it means to be a creative Artist. And I’m not talking about us.
Think of a benefactor who commissions five different artists to paint a sunrise over the high desert of Nevada. All five look at the same sky, the same moment. Yet the benefactor receives five completely different paintings. Each is a unique interpretation, a singular vision filtered through a unique soul.
That’s impressive. But it’s human.
Yahuah is not a human artist. He is the sovereign, Master Creator. When He executes His will, He does so in a way that leaves no room for our boasting. As it is written:
“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” (Ephesians 2:8-9, ESV)
He doesn’t just want to bless us; He wants us to know the blessing is from Him. It’s by His power and might, not our speed, wisdom, or foresight. In my life, He has done things in ways I could never take credit for. The path was so unmistakably His that all I could do was stand in awe.
But here’s the thing that continues to awe and marvel me, even now: The way Yahuah uses a multitude of His creations to accomplish a single, perfect will.
Go back to our benefactor. This time, he commissions one painting of that Nevada sunrise. But he doesn’t hire one artist. He hires five. Five different painters, with different styles, different brushes, different palettes, all working on the same canvas. They collaborate, blend, and layer their contributions until the work is complete. The resulting painting isn’t just a sunrise; it’s a masterpiece of unified diversity, more profound and beautiful than any one artist could have created alone.
That is how I have witnessed Yahuah work for almost two years now.
He invites me into a space, a situation, a conversation, a need. Often, He instructs me, “Be still. Watch.” And I do. I watch as He moves through an entire room, an entire body of people. One person speaks a word of knowledge. Another offers a gift. Another prays. Another provides a practical solution. Another simply listens with the love of the Messiah. Sometimes He tells me in advance what He’s about to do. Other times, I don’t see the picture until the final brushstroke is placed.
He is the master Artist, and we are His brushes, His paints. The masterpiece is His will.
So why? Why does God prefer to work through the entire body? Why not just tell me to go for a walk and find a bag of cash to cover the bills? That would be efficient. Clean. It would allow me to stay in my isolated bubble, away from the beautiful, frustrating, messy chaos of “people.” And I’ll be honest: as a man of few words, that’s my preference. My social battery has a low capacity. My ideal weekend involves my dog Wiggles and a silent forest, not a crowd.
But here’s my theory, born from watching Him work:
We flawed humans often think everything God does is for us. But He is the God Most High. He is everyone’s God, whether they acknowledge Him or not. When He carries out His will through an entire body, He isn’t just doing one thing for one person. He is orchestrating a single, divine action that generates multiple, overlapping blessings for multiple children simultaneously.
It’s His way of “flexing.” It’s a window for us to witness a small measure of His ultimate sovereignty. It displays His wisdom:
“So that through the church the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 3:10, ESV)
The “manifold” wisdom, poly poikilos in Greek, means variegated, multi-colored, intricately diverse. It’s the wisdom displayed in a tapestry, not a single thread.
Consider the early church:
“Now the full number of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things that belonged to him was his own, but they had everything in common.” (Acts 4:32, ESV)
A need arose, and it was met not by a solitary miracle from the sky, but through the shared resources and unified heart of the body. The blessing rippled out, strengthening all.
It’s harder for five artists to create one unified masterpiece than five separate ones. It requires submission. It requires dying to your individual vision for the sake of the greater work. It requires trusting the Master Artist.
That’s the point.
God is as interested in the process as He is in the provision. He is building His Body, the Body of the Messiah:
“For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ… The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you,’ nor again the head to the feet, ‘I have no need of you.’” (1 Corinthians 12:12, 21, ESV)
My desire for solitary, clean provision is a desire to be an entire body unto myself. It’s a quiet rebellion against interdependence. But God’s design is communal. His glory is most fully revealed not in the lone prophet on a mountain, but in the unified, messy, beautiful, and often frustrating assembly of saints serving one another.
When He asks you to go somewhere or say something that seems irrational to you, it’s rarely just about you. You are being positioned as one brushstroke in a larger painting. Your obedience might be the dash of color that makes sense of another person’s struggle. Your presence might be the answer to a prayer you never heard.
Your isolation is a poverty. His community is the wealth.
So, why write about this now? Because I am learning, in real time, to surrender my preference for the quiet, self-sufficient path. My mother loved to talk. In her last years, God took her voice. She saw it as a curse. A part of me saw it as a gift…a terrible, honest confession. It would have been a gift for me. No more awkward conversations. Just silence.
But God didn’t call me to silence. He called me into the noisy, beautiful, inconvenient Body. He calls all of us. Our obedience in the small things, the phone call, the errand, the listening ear, the inconvenient “yes”…is how He paints His masterpieces. Our willingness to be one color on a shared canvas is how His manifold wisdom is displayed.
He speaks. His Word never returns empty. And the most effective way for that Word to achieve its purpose is through His entire Body, not just a single member.
That is all. And thank you for reading.
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Shashue Monrauch
As a dedicated hermit, your words touch me deeply. I've got a long ways to go.
This is resonating so much with me lately. And in this orchestration, *nothing* is difficult for Him, at all.