May my prayer be set before you like incense... Psalm 141.2a (BSB) So many people are lifting up prayers to God, so many people talking about God, so many people sharing something of God's steadfast loving kindness with their neighbours, with their family, and with those who are hurting. And I am convinced, that as our prayers are lifting up to God, God sees them (all smells them if they truly are like incense!), and God acts.
Whatever comes from all this, I pray and hope that it will be a world more aware of the effect we as humans have on each other and have on our planet. I pray and hope that we'll be more conscious of what we are giving our time to. And I pray and hope that those of us who know God's unfailing love will be more courageous to share it with others. Please God, act for good here. Stay safe, and take care!
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For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. 2 Corinthians 2.15 You've all experienced it if you've been outside for any reason at the moment: you're running along, or walking to the supermarket, and someone comes around the corner on to the same path you're on and they're coming towards you. Either you or they cross the road - maybe the streets by you are so empty like they are by me that you run in the road. Maybe you try to smile, to imitate some kind of friendliness, but we each - and rightly so right now - are avoiding each other like we stink.
I'm not saying don't do this. Stick to government advice: stay at least 2m from anyone when you're out for your necessary trips. But it was an experience like this that made one of my church pastors think of this Bible verse for today's LOOK UP IN LOCKDOWN post. And I wonder if there are ways, right now, that our "aromas", our presence (physical, virtual, in a letter or card, or a gift ordered online), could be as the pleasing aroma of Christ is to God. Something that when it is received, it is loved and wanted and good. I baked ginger parkin the other day (today is the 3rd day since, so we finally get to eat it), from my grandad's recipe. And the smell, even just as I mixed up the mixture, was amazing! I'm not sure I can even describe it! It filled me with a warmth, and a want, and a thankfulness! Can my actions, thoughts, words, deeds bring that to someone after, but also during, this lockdown time? In my pastor's words: 'How to encourage that to happen in each of us is worth pondering.' As always: Stay safe, and take care! "Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, clear as glass, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life, with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations." (Revelation 22.1-2) "All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. To the place the streams come from, there they return again. All things are wearisome, more than one can say." (Ecclesiastes 1.7-8a) Water is ubiquitous. There is water we need to drink. Where I live, there is often water that falls from the sky, pin-pricks spiking through my clothes as I cycle and as clouds begin to let go. There is water we wash in. There is water that seeps out of the corners of our eyes when things become too sad, or too happy, or too overwhelming, or too disappointing. There is water that powers across the sea, crashing as waves against rocks, or cliffsides, or beaches. Water that wears down the land itself. There is water in streams, and lakes. There is water locked up in glaciers and ice-caps. There is water melting, tumbling, crashing. Sometimes life can be like water. Like everything is moving, cycling, yet necessary. What do you think? If all that I do goes into the world, yet the world is never full (complete, perfect, right, better), why do I bother? Ecclesiastes 1.7-8a. When all things are more wearisome than one can say, what keeps us going? Perhaps the utopian images of "something better" that we cling to, even if we are unable to say how it could become reality. And then we believe, somewhere deep inside us, that there can be life-giving water, that tears can be no more, that fruit can grow and sustain all year round, and that nations can be healed. Revelation 22.1-2. They are both here. We know the world is too broken for us to be able to fix it, but we also know that we've got to live this life as if we're trying to - or what's the point? This is metamodern. This is what a large majority of millennials and gen-z's feel. But it feels almost as if we're crashing around, tumbling and melting like ice-caps when we feel this way. We keep our heads above water, but only just. And what do we miss while we're so intent on surviving it? Sometimes, in the midst of it all, I need another lens through which to look.
There will be time again to fight the wrong things in the world. There will be time again to realise the world is beyond my power to fix. There will be time again to decide to keep trying to do good anyway.
But there needs to be time for silence, and to be still. I want to make two points, using this painting to do so:
1) Movement. Notice the curve blowing over at the top and the peachy-white spaces smudging against each other and floating on the tips of the waves. Working with fluid acrylics creates space for this movement. And movement reminds me that things change. That negative spaces can become positive and good times should be counted as blessings rather than a guarantee. 2) Colour. I love these colours. You might also love them, or you might not, but zoom in (click on the images below) and you can see bright red that becomes deep red as it nears a particular edge; coral overlaid with dark teal lines; teal that runs through green to blue, to purple, to almost black; and flecks of gold that shine. Like, really shine. There are colours and interactions between colours that you only see when you look close, and which I, as the artist, didn't always plan for. It reminds me of the possibility of more. Points me to a God who "is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or imagine, according to the power at work within us" - if I'm willing to stop, look and notice them. Shows me that sometimes things appear when and where they're not expected. Even during annoying, anger-provoking or sad times, unexpected good ideas or occurrences can appear! As if from somewhere beyond you - and this, at least for me, is a comfort I need to be able to rely on! Sorry for the lack of a post last week - I've been really busy finding and then starting a job after finishing my Master's at the same time of preparing for and then taking part in an art exhibition! Which is what I wanted to write about today. Last week I had my first ever art exhibition. It was in central London and I exhibited with a group of 10 other people on the theme of Utopia. We all explored the theme from a sociological standpoint and a theological standpoint, and the conversations that grew out of this were incredible. I can't wait to do it again! This was my biggest piece in the exhibition: Measuring at 1m x 1.2m, it's also by far the biggest piece I've ever made! It's called Utopia: A Necessary Impossible Possibility.
My idea here is effectively that Utopia is something at the centre - at the core - which we’re searching for and yearning for, which is beautiful but impossible to fully grasp, impossible to reach and get to and put our hands on, and a mystery. But still it directs us. Around it, all the other aspects of ourselves and our lives float and mingle: some of them beautiful, others scary, others ambiguous. But they are directed into and towards the Utopia. As a Christian, the Utopia of a perfect God, and a perfect place where that perfect God will make all bad things disappear: well, I don’t understand that fully. It is impossible to fully grasp and reach, but it shapes how all the other aspects of my life fit together, flow and mingle. In the decisions that I make, I try to make them point towards that Utopia. Even though I know that I cannot fix the world and all its problems, I try to make decisions that do good, as if I could (even whilst knowing I can’t). In that sense, I am trying to bring into view something that is beautiful to others, and good, and impossibly wonderful, and mysterious. Something Utopian. Something like God. |
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AuthorI'm a recent Cambridge Theology graduate now studying for a Masters in Biblical Studies and blogging about all sorts of things! I'm interested in faith, Church, theology, social action, the great outdoors and being creative, and all of those things - along with many more - come through in my posts!
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