Painting What I Know

I recently went to an art night with my cousin. It was one of those “the teacher tells you what to do, and you all find out that you can paint” event. The group paints basically the same picture, with some personal creative tweaks in the details – and some obvious differences in skill level! I was one of those who had a more obvious skill level difference. And by this, I mean that my painting skills remain on a roughly kindergarten level. The picture was to be a sunset landscape over water, with a large tree and a few small bushes in the foreground. I found the sunset extremely challenging. The land in the foreground was less difficult. But by the time I had finished that, the idea of having to paint a tree just about made me cry. My work was slow and I had trouble keeping up, and at least to my eyes it was far inferior of the work of those around me. I stopped, and thought about what to do.

When I was young and wanted to write, my mother told me, “write what you know.” When we express ourselves creatively, we express either what we know, or what we believe matters. So I painted a large tree in shadow, and a stone next to a cave. These are the things that matter to me. The tree was not the lovely leafy tree in the original picture, but the tree of curse, on which hung our curse-bearer. The stone is next to the cave, not in front of it, for the cave is a tomb, and the tomb's inhabitant didn't need the tomb anymore, and left the door open. Jesus has taken our curse upon himself. Jesus has propped open the door to the grave. That is what I know. That is the truth that I have committed to proclaim in my life and my work. The picture may leave a lot to be desired, but the message comes through.

“And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” (1 Cor 2:1-2)