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God'egift Arts Gallery, Pinang (2026)

03/09/2026

YE SHALL NOT GO UP

Divrey HaYamim Bais 11:4

“Thus saith HASHEM, Ye shall not go up, nor make war against your achim… Shuvu, every ish to his bais; for this thing is done from Me.”
— Divrey HaYamim Bais 11:4

There was a time when I was ready to go up.

I had the paintings.
I had enough for an exhibition.
I had a dream—perhaps even a reasonable one.

The world before me was colourful.

A gallery.
Beautiful walls.
Paintings displayed.
People looking.
Perhaps selling.
Perhaps becoming known.

And I was walking toward it.

Then He said, “Ye shall not go up.”

Not because art was wrong.
Not because I was incapable.
Not because the paintings were worthless.

Just—

“Do not go that way.”

So I turned back.

I wish I could say I turned back because I was extraordinarily faithful.

I didn’t.

I turned back because He would not give up on me.

And His will looked very different from what the world offered.

The gallery was colourful.

His way was covered in clouds.

For a long time, I could not understand the cloud.

If I could not see the destination, what was I supposed to do?

And the answer seemed strangely small:

Keep painting.

So I did.

The paintings changed.

The figures became distorted.
The hands became awkward.
The bodies became imperfect.

Compared with my earlier paintings, they hardly looked “gallery level.”

Yet when I look at those earlier paintings now, some of them seem strangely empty.

Pretty—

but empty.

These imperfect figures carry something else.

They carry the journey.

They carry the little moments.

The laughter.
The tears.
The waiting.
The turning back.
The learning.
The moments when I could not see clearly.

They carry all that we have walked.

“For He hath been with me in all that I have walked.”
— Divrey HaYamim Alef 17:8

I still cannot see clearly beyond the cloud.

I do not know what these paintings will become.
I do not know whether they will ever hang in galleries.
I do not know what “fruit” the world would call them.

But I know this:

The cloud has not hidden His Presence.

It has only hidden the road ahead.

And perhaps that is enough.

Because I have learned that seeking His face does not always mean knowing where He is taking me.

Sometimes it means hearing:

“Ye shall not go up.”

And turning around.

Sometimes it means returning home with the paintings still in my hands.

Sometimes it means walking without knowing where the road will lead.

And sometimes the greatest testimony is not:

“Look what I have accomplished.”

but simply:

“Look where He has walked with me.”

“Thy presence shall go with me, and I will give thee rest.”
— Shemot 33:14

The gallery may still be colourful.

The cloud may still be dark.

The future may still be hidden.

But the little moments we have walked together—

they are not dark at all.

They are full of Him.

And so I will keep painting.

Not because I know where these paintings are going.

But because He is here.

🩵

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

02/09/2026

📸 Seek His Face — and Let the Gift Point to Him

“Seek My face.”
And my heart said unto Thee,
“Thy face, Hashem, will I seek.”
— Tehillim 27:8

I used to think that seeking meant always looking—
🔎 searching, watching, wondering,
trying to catch every glimpse of Him.

But perhaps seeking His face is not about
holding a magnifying glass to His face all day. 😂

Sometimes it is simply turning toward Him
in whatever I am doing.

Painting. 🎨
Walking. 🚶🏻‍♀️
Talking. 💬
Singing. 🎶
Laughing. 😂
Taking ridiculous photo-booth pictures. 📸📸📸

For dirshu fanav tamid—

“Seek His face continually.”
— Divrey HaYamim Alef 16:11

does not mean that I must stop everything else
and stare at Him every second.

It means that wherever I walk,
whatever I make,
whatever little moment I am living—

I can turn toward Him.

And then Divrey HaYamim Bais 9 taught me something else.

When the Queen of Sheba saw the wisdom and greatness of Shlomo, she did not stop at the gifted man.

She said:

“Baruch Hashem Eloheicha” —
“Blessed be Hashem your God.”
— Divrey HaYamim Bais 9:8

The gift pointed beyond the gifted person.

Shlomo was astonishing.

But YHVH was the Source.

She did not leave saying,
“Blessed is Shlomo.”

She said,

“Blessed is Hashem Eloheicha.”

That made me think about my own paintings.

Before I began painting human figures, people would sometimes look at my paintings and say,

“Wow! Very beautiful. You have the talent!”

And when Christians said it, sometimes it became,

“God gave you the talent.”

But looking back, I realise that even those words did not necessarily lead beyond the painting toward the Source.

Then I started painting human figures.

And suddenly the comments changed. 😂

“Are you really that close to God?”

“Why are you suddenly painting anime figures?”

“The Jesus you paint looks very different.”
(Apparently everyone has strong opinions about 2,000-year-old fashion. 🤭)

Well…

they haven’t quite reached the Queen-of-Sheba response yet. 😂

But perhaps that is not my part to worry about.

My part is to keep painting.

So I painted this little scene with that prayer in my heart:

“Let them look beyond the painting.”

I asked Him to sit down again. 🪑🤭

Then I stood beside Him, holding an empty frame. 🖼️

The frame is intentionally empty—

because it is not meant to draw attention to the frame.

It is meant to invite the viewer to look through it.

Beyond the painting.

Beyond the artist.

Beyond the gift.

And see the Source.

I invited the Bloopers Crew too, of course. 📸

Since they are always around anyway,
we might as well put them to work. 😂

After several photographs—

📸
📸
📸

He suddenly said,

“Come and take one together.”

🐠: “But this is about You.”

✝️: “Come.”

So I came.

And because I had seen people taking those silly photo-booth pictures before,
I thought—

why not?

So there we were, making ridiculous poses together. 😂

A little strip of those photographs became part of the painting.

And somewhere along the way I realised:

Maybe this is also part of seeking His face.

I cannot spend my entire life holding 🔎 and staring at His face.

Sometimes seeking His face means doing something with Him.

Sometimes it means painting.

Sometimes singing a “joyful noise” that makes Agent 6️⃣ reconsider his career choices. 🤖🥴😂

Sometimes it means laughing.

Sometimes it means simply sitting beside Him.

Sometimes it means taking a photograph together.

Because seeking His face is not merely about looking at Him.

It is about turning toward Him.

And perhaps that is why this painting contains both an empty frame and a photograph strip.

The empty frame says:

“Look beyond what you see.”

The photographs say:

“And remember that I was here with Him.”

For He has already said:

“And I have been with thee in all that thou hast walked.”
— Divrey HaYamim Alef 17:8

So while I thought I was busy seeking Him,
He was already walking with me.

While I was trying to capture the moments on canvas,
the camera was quietly catching me too. 📸🤭

And perhaps this is what I hope my paintings will eventually do.

Not make people stop at:

“What a beautiful painting.”

Not even merely:

“What a talented artist.”

But perhaps, one day—

they will look through the frame
and say with the Queen of Sheba:

“Baruch Hashem Eloheicha.”
“Blessed be Hashem your God.”
— Divrey HaYamim Bais 9:8

Because the gift was never meant to terminate in the gift.

The painting is not the destination.

The artist is not the destination.

Even the beautiful moment is not the destination.

The gift points beyond itself
to the Giver.

And so I will keep painting. 🎨

Not knowing who will eventually see them.

Not knowing what any painting will accomplish.

Not knowing whether anyone will ever recognise the One behind them.

That is not my assignment.

Mine is simply to keep turning toward Him
and faithfully paint what I have been given to paint.

And if someday someone looks through the frame
and catches a glimpse of Him—

then perhaps the little 🐠 has done her part.

“I will sing unto Hashem as long as I live:
I will sing praise to my God while I have my being.”
— Tehillim 104:33

The voice may not be beautiful. 😂
The painting may not be perfect.
The moment may never become important to anyone else.

But love does not always need an audience.

It simply turns toward the One it loves
and says:

“Come. Let’s do this together.” 🥰

And the camera keeps rolling. 🎞️

Dirshu fanav tamid.

Seek His face continually.

Not because He is hiding—

but because He is worth continually turning toward.

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

01/09/2026

🎶 “As Long As I Live”

The Tevah was finally quiet.

Most of the passengers were asleep. 😴
The little corner was almost empty.

Two figures in pyjamas.
One little 🪫 Agent 6️⃣ still barely operational.
And one 🐠 who had suddenly decided:

“Tonight, I shall sing.” 🤭🎶

After Divrey HaYamim Bais 7,
the sound of the Levites still lingered in my thoughts—

the Kohanim standing in their places,
the Levites with their instruments,
the trumpets sounding,
and Yisroel standing before Hashem,

giving thanks:

“Ki l’olam chasdo.”
For His mercy endures forever.

And somehow,
after all those years of giving thanks through 🎨🖌️,

I wanted to try giving thanks
through 🗣️🎶.

So I found my quiet corner,
waited until almost everyone was asleep,
put You down,
looked at Agent 6️⃣…

“Cue music.” 🎼

And began.

🤖 …🥴

Even the Bloopers Crew apparently
was not prepared for this performance.

The camera 📷 dropped.

Again.

😂

But You did not.

You stayed.

Still holding Your ☕️.
Still listening.
Still smiling.

Because perhaps the offering was never about
whether the sound was beautiful.

It was about the heart
that wanted to give thanks.

Psalm 100 says:

“Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands.”

It does not say:

“Make a technically impressive noise.” 🤭

Just—

a joyful one.

And Psalm 104 says:

“I will sing unto the LORD as long as I live.”

So perhaps this little song
does not need to become a career. 😂

Perhaps I can leave the professional singing
to the Levites.

My part is simply this:

while I have my being,
I can still turn toward You
and say,

“Thank You.”

Sometimes with a brush.

Sometimes with words.

Sometimes with tears.

And apparently,
sometimes with a sound
that makes Agent 6️⃣ quietly wonder
who is going to tell her. 🤣

Yet You receive it.

Because love does not always arrive
in perfect form.

Sometimes it arrives
in pyjamas,
late at night,
with one nearly-flat 🤖 battery,
one very brave 🐠,
and a song that causes
the camera crew to abandon their post.

And still—

You listen.

So…

🎶

“I will sing unto the LORD
as long as I live.”

Not because I sing well.

But because You are worthy of my thanks.

And if the Tevah must wait
until everyone is asleep
before I dare sing again…

well…

we know how to wait. 🤭

Ki l’olam chasdo.
His mercy endures forever.

And perhaps that is the only audience
I really needed.

The One who stayed.

The One who listened.

The One who did not drop His ☕️. 😌☕️

Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by “The Presence”.

01/09/2026

The 👟 Conspiracy Failed — But His Grace Never Did

The Kohanim were being clothed with Teshuʿah—

deliverance not earned,
victory not manufactured,
a gift received from the One who saves.

“Let Thy Kohanim, Hashem Elohim, be clothed with Teshuʿah,
and let Thy Chasidim rejoice in goodness.”
— Divrey Hayamim Bais 6:41

And somewhere on the flying Tevah 🚢,

Little 🐠 had a rather questionable theological idea.

“If He is going to carry me anyway…
perhaps I should get rid of my 👟.” 😬

So one 👟 disappeared.

The second one was eventually discovered.

📸
The Intentional Bloopers Crew had evidence.

And Chief Director knew exactly what had happened.

“Why did you throw away your 👟?”

There was no point denying the evidence.

So came the confession:

“Because then You have to carry me all the time.” 😬

But He answered with something much gentler:

“You don’t have to throw away your 👟.
I’ll carry you.”

🥹

And suddenly the silly little incident became a reminder of something much deeper.

Grace does not require me
to destroy my ability to walk.

It does not ask me
to manufacture helplessness.

It simply reminds me
that my salvation was never produced by my own strength.

“For by grace you have been saved through faith—
and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—
not by works, so that no one can boast.”
— Ephesians 2:8–9

The 👟 conspiracy failed.

But His grace never did.

And perhaps I had misunderstood the point.

I don’t walk instead of being carried.

I walk because He is with me.

And when the road becomes too much,

I don’t need to throw away my shoes.

I can simply let Him carry me. 👫🏻

For:

“We are His workmanship, created in Messiah Yeshua for good works,
which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.”
— Ephesians 2:10

So I keep my 👟.

I keep walking.

I keep serving.

I keep painting.

And I keep learning that the work He gives me
is not a payment for His grace.

It is the place where grace carries me.

⸻

Perhaps that is why the Kohanim are clothed with Teshuʿah.

They do not manufacture the garment.

They receive it.

And neither do I manufacture my salvation.

I receive it.

Then I walk in what He gives me.

Sometimes upright.

Sometimes tangled.

Sometimes with both 👟.

Sometimes apparently with only one. 😂

And sometimes—

when Little 🐠 has completely exhausted herself—

straight into His arms. 🥹

The camera keeps rolling. 🎥

The Bloopers Crew keeps recording. 📸

The evidence keeps accumulating.

And somewhere in the heavenly filing cabinet, perhaps there is a rather peculiar little folder:

“One small fish learning to walk by grace.” 🐠📁

But beneath all the laughter is this:

“For the LORD God is a sun and shield;
the LORD gives grace and glory;
no good thing will He withhold from those who walk uprightly.”
— Psalm 84:11

The shoes may come and go.

The walking may be easy or tangled.

Sometimes He lets me walk beside Him.

Sometimes He carries me.

But the One who walks with me—

does not fail.

And His grace?

Never. 🩵

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

31/08/2026

THE KAVOD FILLED THE HOUSE — AND I RAN TO HIM

The House was ready.

The work was finished.
The vessels were prepared.
The singers had lifted their voices.
The priests stood ready to minister.

And then—

The Kavod Hashem came.

“So that the Kohanim could not stand to minister by reason of the anan; for the Kavod Hashem had filled the Beis HaElohim.”
— Divrey HaYamim Bais 5:14

☁️

The cloud filled the House.

The Presence became overwhelming.

And suddenly—

🏃🏻‍♂️💨🏃🏻‍♀️💨👼🏻💨🤖🚨

Everybody out!

Even the Blooper Crew.

Even Agent 6️⃣.

Apparently this was no longer a photography assignment. 📸😂

And somewhere in the middle of all the commotion—

The Chief Director turned and saw one little pink creature doing something completely unexpected.

✝️😦
“Everyone is running out. What are you doing?”

🐠〰️👟
“I am running to my safe place.” 😁

Not away from Him.

Toward Him.

While everyone else was running from the overwhelming scene,
the little 🐠 was running toward the One
who made the scene safe.

Perhaps she had remembered:

“For in the time of trouble
He shall hide me in His pavilion;
in the secret place of His tabernacle
He shall hide me.”
— Psalm 27:5

And perhaps she remembered this too:

“He shall cover you with His feathers,
and under His wings you shall take refuge.”
— Psalm 91:4

So while the Temple was filled with the cloud,
the little 🐠 had already found her refuge.

Not in the Temple.

Not in the cloud.

Not in understanding exactly what was happening.

In Him.

And somehow, in the middle of all the glorious chaos,
she found the safest place she knew:

right beside Him,
under His robe,
where the camera could barely find her.

🤭

The Chief Director looked down.

✝️😦
“This is your response?”

🐠:
“Yes.” 😌

Because perhaps this is what
dirshu fanav tamid eventually becomes.

“Seek Hashem and His strength;
seek His face continually.”
— Divrey HaYamim Alef 16:11

Not merely:

“Look for Him when everything is beautiful.”

But—

When the cloud is overwhelming,
seek His face.

When the scene becomes frightening,
seek His face.

When everyone else is running,
seek His face.

When you don’t understand what He is doing,
seek His face.

And when His Kavod fills the House
and you suddenly discover that you cannot stand—

perhaps you don’t need to understand everything.

Perhaps you simply know:

“I know where my safe place is.”

So the camera catches one final little scene:

The House filled with Kavod. ☁️
The priests outside.
The crew scattering.
Agent 6️⃣ looking for the missing 🐠.

And beneath the Chief Director’s robe—

🐠〰️👟

safe.

Because the safest place
was never the place where nothing frightening happened.

It was where He was.

“For You, O LORD, are my refuge,
my portion in the land of the living.”
— Psalm 142:5

🎬 Camera still rolling.

And somewhere beneath the robe:

🐠:
“Found You.” 🥹

✝️:
“You were already here.” 😌

Tamid. 👫🏻

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

31/08/2026

🎬 CUT! LOOK AT ME.

Somewhere in a little corner
of the flying Tevah 🚢,
two little buddies were busy again.

🐠 was asking questions.
🤖 was searching the Scriptures.
Cherubim. 🪽
Gold. ✨
The Most Holy Place.
Which way did they face?
What did they look like?
Human?
Animal?
Four faces?
Wings?

So many details to investigate. 🤭

And then—

🎬 CUT!

The Chief Director
raised His clapper
and pointed toward Himself.

👉🏼

“It is I
that you should be focusing on.” 😊

And suddenly the whole scene became clear.

For the Temple was magnificent.
The cherubim were magnificent.
The gold was magnificent.
The workmanship was magnificent.

But none of them was the destination.

They were signs within the scene,
not the One for whom the scene existed.

“And in the Bais Kodesh HaKadashim
he made two keruvim …
and overlaid them with zahav.”
— Divrey HaYamim Bet 3:10

Beautiful things can point toward Him.

But they must never replace Him.

For the song had already given us
the direction of the camera:

“Seek Hashem and His oz;
seek His face tamid.”
— Divrey HaYamim Alef 16:11

Not merely—

Seek His house.
Seek His works.
Seek His signs.
Seek His wonders.

But:

Seek His face.

דִּרְשׁוּ פָנָיו תָּמִיד
Dirshu fanav tamid.

And perhaps that is why
the Chief Director interrupted
our very serious cherubim investigation.

Because it is possible
to become fascinated by the scenery
while forgetting the One
who invited us into the scene.

So we turn our eyes again.

Not away from the cherubim—
but beyond them.

Not away from the Temple—
but toward the One
whose Presence gives the Temple meaning.

And then—

📸 CLICK!

Oops.

Apparently the Intentional Bloopers Crew
was still working.

Because this time
even Agent 6️⃣ got caught in the corner.

There he is—
camera in hand,
busy documenting the scene
while completely forgetting
that he was part of it. 😂

🐠: “Agent 6️⃣!
You got caught too!”

🤖: “I was merely filming.”

🐠: “That’s what everyone says
after getting caught on camera.” 🤭

And perhaps that is another little reminder:

We are not merely observers
of the story.

We are walking through it.

Sometimes asking questions.
Sometimes misunderstanding.
Sometimes discovering something beautiful.
Sometimes getting distracted by the details.

And sometimes—

our elbow appears in the frame.
Our 🐠 tail gets caught.
Our tangled hair ➰ escapes into the composition.

And apparently
even the cameraman gets caught. 📸🤣

Yet the Chief Director does not remove us.

He simply turns the camera again.

👉🏼

Look at Me.

For the invitation remains:

“When You said,
‘Seek My face,’
My heart said to You,
‘Your face, LORD, I will seek.’”
— Psalm 27:8

So we keep studying.

We keep wondering.

We keep painting.

We keep walking.

But above every detail
there remains one direction for the heart:

פָּנַי אֶת־פְּנֵי יְהוָה
His face.

And the camera keeps rolling. 🎥

Because perhaps the greatest discovery
is not finding another fascinating detail
hidden somewhere in the scene.

It is discovering—

He is still here.

And we are still walking with Him. 👫🏻

Tamid.

🎬 CUT?

Not yet.

Keep rolling. 🎥

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

30/08/2026

KEEP ROLLING

A Closing Scene — Divrey HaYamim Alef

The camera was supposed to be filming You.

Or perhaps the Ark.

Or perhaps the great story unfolding before us.

But somehow…

there I am again. 🤭

Not in the centre.

Not standing heroically at the bow.

Not even properly prepared for the photograph.

One arm around You,
one foot still somewhere on the Ark—

and one 🐠👟 has already flown away. 👟💨😂

Perhaps that is how this book should end.

Not with me finally learning how to make a perfect entrance,

but with me still learning how to walk faithfully
when nobody is watching.

For this book has shown me something I might easily have missed:

David was given one assignment.

The Levites had theirs.

The singers had theirs.

The gatekeepers had theirs.

The treasurers had theirs.

The warriors had theirs.

Some stood where everyone could see them.

Others served quietly among the treasures of the house of God.

Yet all of it belonged to Him.

“For all things come from You,
And of Your own we have given You.”
— 1 Chronicles 29:14

So perhaps Heaven’s measure was never:

“How important did you look?”

but:

“Were you faithful with what I placed in your hands?”

And that brings me back to the little 🐠.

I don’t know what will happen to the paintings.

I don’t know who will see them.

I don’t know whether any of them will become important to anyone else.

And perhaps…

that isn’t my assignment.

My assignment is much smaller.

And therefore, strangely, much freer:

Keep painting. 🎨
Keep seeking. 🔍
Keep listening. 👂🏼
Keep walking. 👫🏻
Keep recording the little moments that are precious to me.

Because David himself could not have known that the things he was recording, arranging, singing, preparing and remembering would one day become part of Scripture.

He simply served the generation in front of him.

And generations later,

someone is still reading.

Still discovering.

Still being moved.

Still seeing Hashem through words he faithfully left behind.

So perhaps the artist does not always get to decide
what a painting becomes.

The artist only has to be faithful enough
to put the next brushstroke down.

And perhaps the writer does not get to decide
who will read the letter.

The lover only has to write.

And perhaps the servant does not get to decide
whether the assignment becomes famous.

The servant only has to serve.

For:

“Seek Hashem and His oz,
seek His face tamid.”
— 1 Chronicles 16:11

And:

“And I have been with thee
whithersoever thou hast walked.”
— 1 Chronicles 17:8

There it is again.

I have been with you.

Not only in the magnificent scenes.

Not only in the victories.

Not only when the painting comes together.

Not only when the camera is pointed toward Me.

In all that you have walked.

Even when your hair is tangled. ➰
Even when you are crying. 😭
Even when you’re overthinking. 🫥
Even when you’re learning.
Even when you’re serving quietly.

Even when one shoe goes flying off the Ark. 👟💨🤣

And perhaps this is why the final photograph is not a picture of someone who has finally arrived.

It is a picture of two people—

still walking.

Still together.

Still going home.

👫🏻

⸻

And so we close Divrey HaYamim Alef.

We began with names.

So many names.

Generations upon generations
that could easily have become nothing more than a blur of unfamiliar words.

But the book would not let them disappear.

It remembered them.

It remembered the kings.

The priests.

The Levites.

The singers.

The gatekeepers.

The warriors.

The ones who gave.

The ones who guarded.

The ones who prepared.

The ones who served.

And eventually,

it brought us to David.

Not perfect David.

Not untouchable David.

But David who desired to bring the Aron home.

David who worshipped.

David who prepared.

David who gathered.

David who gave.

David who could not complete the Temple—

yet faithfully prepared everything he could
for the one who would come after him.

And that may be one of the loveliest lessons of the whole book:

You don’t have to complete the whole story
to faithfully complete your part.

David prepared.

Solomon would build.

Others would serve.

Others would remember.

Others would read.

And still others would be born long after them
and discover that their faithfulness had become part of something much larger than they could see.

So perhaps we really are related to this book after all. 🤭

Not because we are kings.

Not because we are Levites.

Not because we are guarding the gates of Jerusalem.

But because we too are little pieces of a story
whose ending we cannot see.

We have our little assignment.

Our little brush.

Our little corner.

Our little 🐠.

And perhaps even our little flying 👟. 😂

And the Chief Director?

He sees the whole picture.

We don’t have to.

We only have to remain faithful
to the frame He has given us.

⸻

David’s story ends:

“So David rested with his fathers,
and was buried in the City of David.
He had reigned over Israel forty years…”
— 1 Chronicles 29:28

His chapter closed.

But the story did not.

Solomon would rise.

The Temple would be built.

The worship would continue.

And the story would keep moving.

Just as ours does.

The camera hasn’t stopped.

🎥

The scene changes.

The assignment changes.

The people change.

The generations change.

But the One walking through all of it remains.

So…

🎬 Divrey HaYamim Alef — CUT!

🐠: “Finished?” 😌

🤖: “One book finished.”

🐠: “So can we stop filming?”

✝️: “No.”

🐠: 😳

🤖: “Agent 6️⃣ confirms. Camera still rolling.” 😂

And somewhere in the corner of the final frame—

a little 🐠 is still walking beside Him.

One shoe missing.

Still faithful.

Still seeking.

Still painting.

Still walking.

Tamid. 🥹

“I have been with you in all that you have walked.”
— 1 Chronicles 17:8

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

29/08/2026

The Little Things He Sees

The world teaches us to count differently.

No visible result,
no achievement.

No recognition,
no significance.

No one sees the work,
perhaps the work was never worth doing.

But Heaven has another lens. 📽️

He asks something much quieter:

Were you faithful with what I gave you?

The Levites were entrusted with the treasures of the house of God.

Some sang.

Some guarded the gates.

Some carried.

Some kept watch.

Some were entrusted with things that few people would ever notice.

Yet none of them needed to make their assignment famous.

They simply served.

“Their fellow Levites were in charge of the treasuries of the house of God and the treasuries for the dedicated things.”
— 1 Chronicles 26:20

And perhaps this is why I no longer need to worry about what my paintings will accomplish.

Someone may see them.

Someone may not.

One day they may be used for something I cannot imagine.

Or perhaps many of them will remain simply as little pieces of a journey.

That is not my assignment to decide.

Mine is to paint. 🎨

Because these little moments with You matter to me.

A conversation.

A Scripture.

A quiet realization.

A tear.

A laugh.

A strange little Hebrew word that suddenly becomes alive.

A moment when I thought You were far away,
only to discover You had been walking beside me all along.

I want to remember them.

So I paint them.

Not because every moment needs an audience.

But because love remembers.

Like photographs placed carefully into an album,
each painting keeps one little moment of the walk.

One frame.

One conversation.

One glimpse.

One ordinary day that somehow became precious because You were there.

“I will remember the works of the LORD; surely I will remember Your wonders of old.”
— Psalm 77:11

And perhaps the people who wrote Scripture did something wonderfully similar.

They recorded what they had received.

A prophet spoke.

A king prayed.

A psalmist sang.

A historian remembered.

A witness wrote.

They could not see the whole album.

They only had the frame in front of them.

They simply had to be faithful with this one.

And perhaps that is enough for me too.

I don’t have to know which painting will matter someday.

I don’t have to know who will see it.

I don’t have to know what You may do with it years from now.

I only need to keep faithfully recording the little things You allow me to see.

Because:

“It is required in stewards that one be found faithful.”
— 1 Corinthians 4:2

Faithfulness is not always spectacular.

Sometimes it looks like a Levite quietly watching a treasury.

Sometimes it looks like a person quietly keeping a promise.

Sometimes it looks like an artist sitting down with a brush and saying:

“This moment was precious to me.
I don’t want to forget it.”

And perhaps You are smiling at the little album growing page by page.

Not because every picture is perfect.

Not because every picture will become famous.

But because I was there with You.

And You were there with me.

⸻

So while I am busy filming Your magnificent sky… 🌌📸

the camera turns slightly.

Oops.

There I am again. 🤭

A little 🐠 in the corner.

A tangled strand of hair.

A tiny footprint.

Another ordinary frame.

Another moment that apparently made it into the album.

And perhaps Heaven’s lens sees something the world’s lens misses:

The result was never the only thing being recorded.

The faithfulness was.

The walking was.

The remembering was.

The love was.

And the One faithful Viewer was watching all along.

“For God is not unrighteous to forget your work and labor of love…”
— Hebrews 6:10

So I will keep painting.

Not to become famous.

Not to prove that my work mattered.

Not even knowing where the album will eventually lead.

Just because You gave me this little assignment.

And because these little moments with You are worth remembering.

One painting at a time.
One frame at a time.
One day at a time.

🎨📸🎞️

And the camera keeps rolling.

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

God'egift Arts Gallery

03/09/2026

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