You’d think with lockdown and time on my hands I would
slapping on the paint left, right and centre – but it all kind of stopped. I’d
seen something last autumn. There had been a heavy frost and the field behind
the house was white with it. Beside the path was a tree. It was a tree that
leaned a little and with a light breeze, golden leaves were spilling like
confetti. Around the base of a tree was a circle of gold, bright yellow against
the white frost. The sun was struggling to break through cloud and mist. I
wanted to paint the scene and rushed home. I dug out all the stuff and set to
work.
I wanted it to come together, to replicate what I had
seen on paper, but it wouldn’t work. The sky was too blue, the grass was too
green. The tree wouldn’t lean in the right direction and the leaves refused to
fall like confetti. It wasn’t happening. I wouldn’t say I made that many
attempts, but I got discouraged. I put the paints away. If I couldn’t paint
what I had seen, I didn’t want to paint anything that was less. I stopped
painting. There would be days when I dug the paints out and had another go at
the tree, another day of not succeeding.
A friend of mine invited me to “Art and Soul”. They were
artists meeting together to read and meditate on a Bible verse. Thirty minutes
was given over to painting something that the Spirit stirred. I set out my
stuff on the kitchen table just in case I was stirred, but at the back of my
mind I was thinking about writing a poem instead. Poetry is my sweet spot. That
afternoon it was my fall-back position, if the art wasn’t happening.
By myself I have sworn,
my mouth has
uttered in all integrity
a word that
will not be revoked:
Before me every knee will bow;
by me every
tongue will swear. (Isaiah 45:23)
God speaks a word that will not be revoked. His word is
that every knee will bow and every tongue will swear their allegiance to Him. I
thought about those words that God speaks that He will not take back. He speaks
a word of deliverance over me. He speaks a word of life, of rescue, of release
and reconciliation. He will not take those words back. He has decided He wants
me to be a part of His family, not as a second cousin twice removed, or the
poor relation that gets a roof over their head and a place at the dinner table
but not much more. He wants me as His child to flourish. He wants me to
discover who He created me to be and live that life before Him.
I dug out the box of soft pastels and started work. It
felt good to be back playing with colours.
There was a “show and tell” bit afterwards, of explaining
what you had created and the thinking behind it. The other artists were let
loose to comment. It surprised me, and encouraged me, that someone had painted
something almost identical, the same idea. Another lady had drawn a scene of
people bowing down to a golden sky. Her people looked like musical notes.
Deliverance and rescue have been themes for songs throughout history. She didn’t
intend them to look like music notes, but that’s what another saw. Another
picture seemed to me like a path, bordered by lots of red. It drew the eye. I
thought about the Highway of the Lord, His righteous path that leads to His
throne. I know myself upon that road. He walks beside me.
And the poem, the fall-back position if the paints weren’t
working? Here's a first draft
Your word to me is truth
spoken from lips of integrity,
with never the intention to reclaim them.
They work in me to bend the knee,
and announce my allegiance.
I hold out my hand and
accept the deliverance you gift me.
Strength, Yours, pours in to
overtake my weakness
