"The Tree": An Attempt at an Exegesis

A little over a year ago, I got to be a camp counselor at Hume Lake for a group of wonderful freshmen girls. One particular day at camp offered the opportunity to paint for a few hours by the lake. The cost was only $3. Excited, I jumped at the offer. However, by the time I got there, they had run out of canvases. As a deal though, they offered that if I found something that I'd like to paint on, they would supply the paint to me for half the price. Deal. Along with another girl (who shared my name) I went out in search of an appropriate substitute. Along the edge of the forest, we found some bark.

I painted two and then kept the one that I liked. The other, "Good News from Distant Lands," I left on a pile of logs for the campfire when I went home. (As a side-note, one of the characteristics of beauty is it's transitory nature - that it is marked by a certain time, where it exists for a period and is then gone. What I mean is that I didn't like this, so I threw it away...but I took a picture!)

My intention in painting was to express the message of the Gospel, but in a way that was more abstract - that engaged the mind while hooking the emotion. I wanted people to feel something when they looked at the piece, and then to wonder why they felt what they did. For me, the story expressed in my painting was clear, but I still wanted it to be thoughtfully challenging for the viewer so that their heart and mind engaged in worship while pondering and finally arriving at the meaning.

And here's what I produced: "The Tree."

(I took it home like this, unfinished, and left it like that for about a year.)

For me, it's a piece that tells the story of redemption. The vibrant colors painted into the cracks and multidimensional surface of the bark represent the beauty of life. However, the black that covers and threatens to completely hide the vibrancy represents the destructive power of sin in our life. Through the work that Christ did on the cross when He died for our sins (and then resurrected three days later), we are restored to life. Thus, the only space I left "unpainted" was the area that leaves the shape of the cross - pure and untainted. His perfection and glory shines as it covers us, washed in his blood. At the cross, also referred to as "the tree," our sins were atoned for and God proved the victor in the battle for eternity. Red splashes across the piece signify the shedding of Christ's blood.

"The Tree" does not exist as a linear piece. We are redeemed, but we still struggle with sin. In Romans 7:15,18a Paul confesses his own weakness, " For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. [...] For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out." Our process of sanctification is ongoing as we continue to struggle with our fallenness while simultaneously growing in holiness (a continual process of restoring the "vibrancy" marred by sin). Thus, this piece is meant to convey the continual grace provided by God as the Holy Spirit works in us towards that restoration. Our ability to desire and do "good" can only have deep and lasting progression if it is fueled by the gift and power of God. We are too weak to be righteous out of our own strength or pride. However, as a static piece of art, it also serves as a reminder that the justification of our souls, bought with the blood of Christ, only needed to happen once and for all. Christ's words, "It is finished," come to my mind (John 19:30). Paul writes in Romans 5:9 "Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God." (Actually, Romans 4-10 seem to have a lot of things to say about justification. I encourage you to check it out if you're curious.) It's a tension reflected in 1 John 3:1-2 that we are legally and eternally considered innocent and children of God, but practically speaking, we still have to deal with the sin-nature embedded in us as we live our linear lives.

Basically, what it comes down to is this: I wanted to paint something beautiful that presented the Gospel message in a way that wasn't cliche and that dramatically expressed what happened at the Tree. Really, just as an individual must work out his or her own personal faith with God, so I want the viewer to come to his or her own understanding of what is found to be the meaning of the painting.

I had no sermon to guide my intentions, but in looking back on my original intent, I think it was fueled by statements made in things like the old hymns. The Catholic hymns for Lent, "En, Acetum, Fel, Arundo" and "Vexilla Regis Prodeunt," provide a good example.

The lyrics of the hymn "Alas! and Did my Savior Bleed?" by Isaac Watts also fit well with my thoughts on what was done on the tree.

Here, I will include one final piece that I think captures my intent. "Not Without Love (Benediction)" by Jimmy Needham.

I should probably mention that I DID finally finish the piece a few months ago in time for an exhibit. All I had to do was add the nails and cord...

(And here it is again with a different setting for better color capture, but with annoying shadows. Meh. I guess I'm not a photographer.)

Drama. Trauma. Struggle. Life and Death and Resurrection. Redemption. Rescue. Absolute love. Absolute sacrifice.

I don't think that the Gospel should ever be tame.

Statement of Intent

I've found myself experiencing push-back over my desire to go to grad school. Honestly, it's hard to hear when what I would like most is to have what I think the desires of my heart to be supported by those whom I love. However, I think that it's actually a good thing because in experiencing opposition, I go through a refining process. In having everything questioned, my motives and intentions are kept in check. If anything, it proves to me the absolute need that I have to ground myself more in seeking discernment through communication with God - prayer, His word, and keeping alert to how else He might guide me. Oh, it would seem that I have a long way to go. However, in the refining, here are my thoughts:

I do not want to make the worship experience "cooler" for the participants. In looking at worship arts and trying to bring that into the corporate experience at church, I want it to be something that unifies the body for the glorification of the Lord. I want it to be something that at all times challenges or moves (intellectually or emotionally) the congregation into a closer relationship with God. I think it should be led, of course. But I think that it should never be a one-man show. The whole purpose of corporate worship is that we come together as one to glorify He who is worthy. Thus, I think it should be something that is contributed to by as many people as possible. And since we are multi-sensory beings, I think that worship should be as holistic as possible.

However, it is never about a show. It is never about being cool. The purpose or value of art and beauty is not for art and beauty in itself. Art and beauty are only the means to a goal - tools that move, inspire, and enliven us as they point to God. When we stop and use them as a way to glorify ourselves they, like cut flowers, quickly wither and fade from the depth of life from which they came.

Fitting

I started listening to Christmas music today. I made a really great station that combines contemporary songs, classic carols, hymns, and worship music. In my mind, it does a good job at capturing the excitement of Christmas. I had a small epiphany the other day that Christmas is not just one day - it's a season. So, I want to celebrate everyday of it.

My brother, Jon, pointed out to me a few minutes ago that today is also the first day of Advent - that season where we celebrate the coming birth of Christ in the Church calender. The fittingness of it just leaves me with a smile on my face at how God orchestrates even the simple things that bless our hearts...and all for His glory. Jon encouraged me to look up Jeremiah 33:14-16.

I then found this.



In further searching on Advent, I discovered that the lighting of the first candle is to represent Hope.


What a wonderful season of joyful expectation for promises made and kept.


And here's something to contemplate. It's initially a little hard to sit through because of the silence, but I think that's a good thing. My soul could use a little quieting every now and again.

Trot, prance, fly, marvel ...alive

Last night, I tried to get some journaling done at Starbucks but got distracted by what ended up being a conversation held with some friends for about 90 minutes. Our conversation finally ended not because we ran out of things to talk about, but because we were sitting outside and it started to rain. The rain reminded us all that we had other things we were "supposed" to be doing. As we scattered, one of them apologized for keeping me from getting my work done. I said it was alright because - honestly - I'd get distracted if I were home too. I prefer, though, to be interrupted by the interaction with real life, as opposed to wasting my life away doing something numbing like incessantly surfing Facebook.

I'm dog sitting this weekend and this morning I set out to take Lucy and Trotsky on a walk. The rain continued off and on, but left me with a waiting, cloudy sky for the duration of our walk. I realized that although I love the rain, it's been a while since I've actually been in it. There's something about being outside that allows one to experience the full magic and beauty of a rainy day. As we walked, gusts of wind blew the trees, sending small, but fierce showers down on whatever might be nearby. The clouds hung in steely blue and even the air held the smell of rain. I took the dogs down to the park near the neighborhood and we walked around the baseball field. My rainboots made delightful sloppy, squishing sounds in the wet grass as I watched the dogs splash through puddles.
In the outfield, Trotsky suddenly burst into so much excited energy that he started racing around in frenzied circles, unable to contain himself or his happiness at...I don't know what. Perhaps his delight simply came from being a dog on a rainy day in a great field for running in. I kept him on the extended leash at first and let him race around and around like a powerful kite. Finally, though, I decided that I was putting my arm at risk for being dislocated with some of the quick jerks and tugs he made, so I let him off the leash. I wish I could express what a joy it was to watch him. A Saluki - a sort of Egyptian greyhound - he was made to run, but "run" might be an understatement. He raced as fast as he could in large circles around me, occasionally prancing to a halt to wait for me to egg him on. Then, he'd tear off again or perhaps make rushes at Lucy in attempts at antagonizing her into play. (She's old and didn't feel much like running.) Gracefully jumping through the air, the feathers on his legs, tail, and long ears made it seem even more like he had wings and was flying. I laughed, cheered him on, rushed at him to keep him from harassing Lucy too much, and also rubbed Lucy's ears and neck to keep her from feeling neglected. When I finally put him back on his leash, his legs and underbelly were soaked.

I learned a lesson from this dog - simply delighting in being alive and in the world on a day like today.

Walking back, feeling the warmth of my body in my jacket contrasted with the cold wind chilling my face - blowing through my hair, tussling and curling it - I understood how Elizabeth Bennet must have felt when she took her walk through the wet fields to see her sister at Mr. Bingly's. She arrived, much to the horror of the other ladies, a "mess" but filled with exuberant life after tactually experiencing the beauty of the world around her. I thought also of how C.S. Lewis experienced the world around him - with a sense of awe and mystery, convinced that the magical beauty around him pointed to an absolute Creator God.

Walking back, I rejoiced at a God who would interrupt me with conversations of theology and laughter and bless me with walks of beauty and life.

A Break from the Mundane

I woke up upset today. And exhausted. Exhausted and upset.
I dawdled my morning away and then took a shower until I ran out of hot water. I then planned on walking the dogs so that I could give vent of my frustrations to God and thus add to the wind that blew the clouds across the sky.

How narcissistic.

I never made it out though. Instead, I continued to waste my day away, feeling sorry for myself.

Finally, exasperated with my own immobility and tired of feeling unhappy, I packed up a couple things that I want to/need to work on and headed out the door to Starbucks. There, I got my Orange Blossom Tea Latte with soy and vanilla (my own creation) and then sat at a table and (for lack of a better word) lived.

For hours, I sketched out an idea I need to work on, took breaks by chatting with the baristas or friends who walked in, shifted over to editing a long overdue letter once I got stuck on my drawing, and then decided it was time for me to go home after I finished that. However, I instead ran into a former co-worker and ended up talking to him for about an hour about our plans for life and how we're working at getting there. He encouraged me to make the necessary steps towards going after those goals.

After all - I'm 24, have my degree, and work at Starbucks. I have dreams and goals. It's time to go.

I just got home, feeling refreshed and enlivened, still aware that I have woes...but not dwelling on them.

Nothing reminds me of the fullness of life more than actually living it.




What a sin to sit and do nothing with the great potential of life that we have.