This blog, is one I wrote for Real Women: A blog from the women of Causeway Coast Vineyard, posted August 11, 2013. I hope you enjoy it. And if you do, pop on over to their site and check out other wonderful posts http://causewaycoastvineyardwomen.blogspot.co.uk/
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When I was a child, the moment it was time for art, I was so excited. I could have been at school, at church, or at a friend’s house, my materials could have been pipe-cleaners, paint, chalk or clay—if I was allowed to get messy with anything at anytime I was ecstatic. My favourite thing was melting crayon shavings between two sheets of wax paper to make a “stained glass window.” These masterpieces, I would carry home to my parents and they’d get their time on the refrigerator door or bulletin board and eventually they’d come down. When they came down most often I didn’t know where they’d go.
My dad had his office that was a black hole. We avoided it because we weren’t sure if we went in that we’d come out of it again. But one day I ventured in, snooped around a bit, and was shocked to find artwork I had created years before. Not only my work, by my sibling’s as well. If found things that I know for certain I had thrown into the garbage bin because I wasn’t proud of it, or thought it had lost it’s value. The work that had been tossed away by me had made it back out via my father’s digging hands. He responded that he was proud of the work we did and he wanted to remember how we’d changed over time. I thought he was too sentimental.
At age fifteen, I painted a picture of three angels and a bible verse on a piece of slate with a leather cord for hanging. Again, I carried it home to my mom. That week it was hung next to the front door, and fifteen years later I cringe when I walk through the door because it is still the first thing I see. No matter the amount of my begging and pleading to remove this art that I find subpar, my mother refuses. She still loves it and she says it reminds her of me in my absence and it reminds her to welcome guests as angels. The verse is Hebrews 13:1.
In my final semester of university, I was in an advanced art class and I began a series of artwork where I took one surface and then used the material least likely to be matched with it and essentially wrote out my journal entries. On walls I used pen. On canvases I used pencil. On post-it notes I used paint. On a white boards I used permanent marker. I wrote my entries it in a way that no one, including myself could really read the final outcome without intense effort. Intentionally, I also wrote it in ways that were meant to disappear when the series was done. In the critique, my lecture and fellow students asked why I choose the materials and subject I did. My explanation to them was that I had always been a journal writer. However, when I would fill a journal I would throw it away. The emotion came out in the writing but I didn’t want to remember what I had been through and so it went in the bin. In that moment, I saw the jaws drop throughout the entire group. My professor loved the work, but hated the idea behind it. He told me, that if I didn’t present one of the pieces to him the Friday before graduation (still four months away), he was failing me in the class, because my thoughts and my art were worth remembering. Not only did I have to show it to him before graduation, he challenged me to keep that piece for the rest of my life. I still have five of them.
Today, and for the past eight years, I am a graphic designer. Recently, I completed a website with a portfolio of my work. It’s the first I’ve had. Chatting with a friend, they asked how I chose what went on the site and I had to say honestly that some it work I really like and some is stuff I hate but it’s work that shows my capabilities. They asked why I hated my own work, and my simple response is that I can do better. He pointed out that we are always going to expect growth in design. As a matter of fact we expect it in art, writing, technology, and so many other things, but we don’t always expect it in other areas. He specifically mentioned that we don’t expect growth in our leadership capabilities or even our faith.
My mind started racing at this profound thought that people don’t always expect growth in a faith walk. Often people cling to familiar ways, be it a selection of worship songs, the seat on the aisle, the popular pastor, or the one theological point that is impossible to break free from. There is a tendency to pine after days of the high highs, and moving past the low lows can’t come fast enough. But in this messiness and change, we are shaped into a masterpiece that is loved by God.
My dad dug out of the bin, the artwork that I found worthless, because he found it priceless. God did that for our lives. The world is out to say we’re nothing—a mere passing spec—but our value is defined by One greater than us. In the Message translation, John 3:16-17 is so beautifully written “This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again.” We are pulled out of the bin and restored to honor.
My mom displays my painting in a place where every person entering her home sees it first, because she loves it and she wants to show me off. God puts us on display because we are pleasing and beautiful to him. We are on display because we have a role to play. “What is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them? You have made them a little lower than the angels and crowned them with glory and honor. You made them rulers over the works of your hands; you put everything under their feet.” Psalm 8:4-6. Maybe you make the best treats of all the primary school moms; perhaps you are in charge of a team of employees; or it might be that you are a freelancer like me. No matter what it is that fills your days and takes your time God is pleased by you. He likes you and he wants to honor you.
My professor challenged me to keep my work, because he knew that power comes in remembering your journey. In Joshua 4:1-9 there is a scene where God commands Joshua to choose twelve men to a place a stone each at the middle of where they crossed the Jordan. It says they are to be a memorial forever of their journey and where God brought them. Growth in faith is messy. It is happy and sad and every other emotion under heaven. But if there is no remembrance of the journey, future generations miss out on the lessons taught by God.
My progression of art has changed, as has my faith. My materials changed, my tools more precise, and the process is more costly. I can learn new methods, hear new thoughts, and create new ideas. Still the chaos remains. I now keep journals because though they hold the uneasiness, they also hold the beauty God has been so merciful with. Still I want to improve. Improvement is good and healthy. But instead of seeing myself through flawed eyes, I see the masterpiece God has carefully crafted me to be, and I know that the craftsman is not done.
I have expectancy that things are going to change. I have the expectancy that God is going to meet me in new ways, ask me to remember many more things, to teach others, to give up my critiques of worth, to challenge my thinking, and to move me further along. After all, it’s His masterpiece He’s creating, not mine.
