His Handiwork

I will never forget the day my wife told me that the same God who carved out the Grand Canyon, who spills onto the canvas of the sky the beauty of the sunset, unique and gorgeous every evening, who springs up daisies and daffodils with his endlessly creative flare, knit me together in my mother's womb and is the Perfecter of my faith.

We are his handiwork (Isaiah 19:25), crafted and spun and birthed and breathed into being with more delight even than He takes in creating the heavens (Psalm 8:3).