I can’t shake this poem from Meister Eckhart.
How many of our coloring books depict a clucking “tsk tsk” tongue, below beady eyes that can’t hide their disappointment?
How many pages are scribbled with the red of hatred or vengeance or scorn?
How many are faintly marked by the cool blues of distance and the haughty creams of condescension?
What do they tell us about ourselves, these false images,
these heartbreaking self-portraits,
these idols that we grip with our fisted souls?
What would we color, I wonder, if we simply
turned
the
page,
reached for the vibrant, warm colors of love and grace and joy and welcome,
(the colors I imagine circled around Jesus)?
What would it look like if we drew what our souls long for God to be,
what we sense of the Divine deep within?
Still a Beautiful World 