🎲 Random Story

On a recent assignment to Milan, Italy, I had the privilege of seeing Leonardo Da Vinci’s masterful mural of the Last Supper. And to my surprise, it’s not found in an art gallery as you might imagine, but it’s painted on the wall of the Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie, in the convent’s dining hall, called a refectory, where the monks once sat and ate their meals, reflecting on the depiction of the Savior's final supper with His disciples.
As I stood there, taking in the image, something profound struck me about Da Vinci’s work. While many artists had portrayed this sacred scene before, there was something uniquely captivating about Da Vinci’s version. It felt almost alive and, whether intentional or not, captured a certain declaration of faith that moved me. I couldn’t help but wonder about Da Vinci himself. I thought about the mastery of his technical skills, the uniqueness of his vision, and the originality of his point of view that reflected who he was as a creator. Not to mention the clear influence of his education that came from his grasp of light and movement and his sophisticated application of mathematics. All of this seemed to suggest this personal insight about Da Vinci’s work: he was different. It took him approximately three years to complete the painting, and interestingly, he chose to deviate from the traditional fresco technique of his time, in favor of a method that would allow him to work slowly and make changes as needed. [1]
I carried some questions home with me that I’ve continued to ponder since my time in Milan. Specifically, how can our life’s masterpiece be as intentional and as purposeful as Da Vinci’s brushstrokes? How do we discover the divine gifts we’ve been given, and how do we use them to create a life centered on Jesus Christ? And what does it mean to become the type of creator God intended us to be?