I’m fascinated by Persian rugs. Maybe they’re called Oriental rugs. Whatever they’re called, you know the kind. They make the best flying carpets. Deep design. Rich colors. Exotic and mysterious. Persian rug or carpet. They have intricate designs woven in. Years ago I had the opportunity to hear the sales pitch for this kind of rug in Fes, Morocco. Mesmerizing. Compelling. The proud merchant plied us with mint tea and literally wove for us the story of how his rugs were the investment of a lifetime because of the artistry, the craftsmanship and the time required (the price was certainly in the lifetime investment range). I’ve often wished I’d found a way to buy one of his rugs.
I heard something recently that took me right back to that blue tiled shop with the smell of strong tobacco and the feel of the tight, dyed wool under my fingers. A woman was telling us that she’d heard that rugs like this are designed by an artist who knows what 
the design should look like and communicates it to the weaver. The weaver then weaves the rug according to the design.
The problem is that the craftsman weaving a rug like this, with its intricate design and thousands upon thousands of threads, often strays from the design. The weaver forgets to change from green thread to red. The shape that the designer intended doesn’t look right because of the weaver’s inattention or misunderstanding.
Whatever the reason, the weaver strays from the design. 
At the moment the error is realized, there are only a few choices:
The rug can be unraveled until the weaver is back to where the error began and then the weaver can pay closer attention, start over and get it right.
The weaver can keep going and hope no one notices the error.
Or the weaver can bring the designer back in to alter the original design to fit what the weaver has done. As I was told, the designer would look at what the weaver had done, what mistakes were made and then change the original design so that the weaver’s mistakes became part of a new design. A great designer could take the weaver’s mistakes and turn them into art again. In fact, a great designer could take mistakes and make them in to incredible art.
You’re probably way ahead of me on this, but the idea of a great designer taking mistakes and turning them into art makes my heart beat a little faster. I haven’t been able to substantiate this idea of the Persian rug designer and the rug weaver, I don’t know for sure that this thing with the rug designers and weavers is true.
But I do know that this is true: God, the great Creator and Designer, does take our mistakes and turn them into art if we let Him.
You may know that I love Easter. Easter is the time when I am reminded that I’m not the sum of my mistakes. I’m grateful because I’m a lousy weaver. And I know without a shadow of a doubt that God has taken my mistakes and incorporated them into another design.
Easter reminds me that I’m not stuck hoping no one notices my mistakes.
Easter reminds me that I’m not stuck unraveling.
Easter reminds me that the great Creator and Designer can take my sin and turn it into beauty.
I love Easter because I am a weaver who can’t get my rug right. But my God, the great Designer, always gets it right. And no life is so messed up or off track that He can’t change it into art.
I hope you’ll join Hoots and me in celebrating our risen Savior. We hope you know the wonder of Easter and the joy of life designed by the great Designer.
I always love hearing what you think. And if you know about rugs, or life, I’d enjoy the dialog.
Happy Easter. He is Risen. He is Risen, Indeed!
st
Steve Thomas
Partner, Oneicity
(photo credits: Grillo Rugs Bob Richmond Koshyk)
