Art and Abundance
As I stand on the brink of a new year, about to turn 34, I’m certain I’ll remember 33 as a year of abundance.
More than any other time in my life, these past months have been marked with a great rush of sights, sounds, opportunities, questions, calls to action, and swirling daydreams of what lies ahead. I’ve contemplated what God has in store for my life and what legacy I can hope to leave out of the abundance of what he’s given.
I’ve learned that sensory overload and deep gratitude are entwined. A great example of this came alive for me in Italy.
A few feet from me is an open suitcase, its contents waiting to return to their drawers or head to the laundry. My camera holds 1700 photos that represent the wealth of memories I’ll retain from a bucket list experience that I shared with two incredibly generous people.
My husband, his mother, and I traveled to Rome, Florence, and Venice, a journey that satisfied lifelong dreams of drinking in newness. Often, that newness came in the form of history as every step and corner told stories of hundreds of years ago in marble, frescoes, bronze, and columns.
It was a good time for such a trip, as I’m six months into a new job that inspires me and three years into a parenting journey that has redefined purpose and joy in my life. At times I have struggled to receive the blessing, yet knew I was in the right place to take in the experience. My perspective and priorities have spent much of the last few years jumbled as I’ve searched for more solid ground.
If I was in search of a place to reflect on abundance, Italy was an excellent choice. The senses feast on abundance. Basilicas are hundreds of years old and contain epic pieces of art. It’s not what’s hung on the walls or housed within them, it’s the walls themselves, the floor, and the stairs. They tug at the limits of your sights and churn the wheels of your mind at a dizzying pace.
When abundance greets you, how do you best stay focused? How does God’s vision pierce through the commotion?
Michelangelo and da Vinci helped provide me with answers to these questions.
Thanks to these days in the presence of awe-inspiring works of art, I now imagine God chiseling away at us the way he inspired Michelangelo to chisel away at marble. The image emerges in the stone much as limbs and body emerge from the water in a draining bathtub. Michelangelo was selective about the marble he chose and began his work with the focal point of the piece. Mere feet away from the foot of his David masterpiece, I stood in awe, wondering at what commitment to a vision can mean.
God is committed to us. He wants us to see the perfect image in his mind of what we could be when it all comes together. Proverbs 3 says to keep faithfulness with you and lean on your own understanding because God will be the one to set your path straight.
I imagine God has a focal point for our lives. It’s a destination we are headed toward or a movement we will catalyze. Around that point, we are carved, polished, and refined. But it’s hard for us to see what that focal point might be when we’re still in process. If we looked at a piece of art when the artist was in the middle of creation, it’s doubtful we’d understand.
Second Corinthians 8 reminds us to not doubt the value of the work done and the gifts given. It’s a reminder to keep making thoughtful, intentional movements that impact the medium that is our lives. We are called to be both the artists and God’s art.
Our journey of transformation in this life could also be compared to the work of da Vinci where the practice sketches and final work are combined. Alternate endings are tested with pencil strokes before the best selection is determined. Because head positioning and a subject’s line of sight can make such an impact on the meaning of the composition and the connection to the viewers, he tested and revised, and the drafts were one with the final work.
We may not know the impact of the work God does through us in a lifetime. If we see ourselves as God’s work in progress, we can also see that he sets us apart. He’s focused on the process and appreciates the journey from start to finish. When I am with my son, I most often think that providing him with a legacy of happy memories from his childhood is far more important than what I might accomplish for myself in this life.
It’s amazing how God can place your feet solidly in an art gallery or a museum to drive home a message he needs you to understand. His classrooms are everywhere.
I was reminded of the power of shared experiences many times in Italy. I’d stand with my husband and mother-in-law in front of a priceless work of art, alongside strangers from places in the world I’ve never been speaking languages foreign to my ear, and be united by feelings of gratitude and awe. The opportunity to be overwhelmed by beauty and brush up against taking it for granted is incredible. To recognize how that binds us together is even better.
We share these experiences with our creator. We seek to understand what we see. We seek to understand the context of the work. Whether it’s an earthly artist like DaVinci or Michelangelo or God himself, we reach toward understanding with great desire. We seek understanding in what we encounter, and we seek to understand one another. We should pause at the gravity of the experience and allow the senses to stir within us reflection and gratitude.
The gifts of an adventure are abundant.
Thank you, 33, for a beautiful adventure.
If you don’t see taking photos or writing, she’s thinking about it. So far, she’s called Minnesota, South Dakota, and Michigan home, and her passport gets itchy for stamps. Lacey loves scuba diving with her hubby and crawling after her little man. Follow her @laceyrosedixon on Twitter.
Photograph © Nick Kane, used with permission
