My mother is an artist.
She paints things she likes. Lots of her paintings are of natural things. Landscapes, outdoor scenes, or flowers. Pretty things. She recently participated in an outdoor local art show with dozens of other artists from around the area. It was a beautiful spring day, and lots of people came out with babies in strollers and dogs on leashes to wander around and admire the art. Some brought money intending to buy an original work, but lots were just lookie-loos out to appreciate art and the day.
I took my kids and went to the show. I went with the intention of being a lookie-loo. When we got there, my mom took my daughter around to look at the other artist’s work. She’s teaching my daughter how to paint, and this was a good opportunity for her to see some good works by various local artists. So instead of a lookie-loo, I was left minding the booth for my mom.
I watched as people walked back and forth admiring the art in the different booths.
People meandered around until something caught their eye. (It’s quite a subjective thing, art.) It was different things for different people. Some people would walk right by my mom’s booth and never even slow down. I had to fight the urge to run them down and drag them back. Still, others would stop in their tracks and come in for a closer look. Each person that came in seemed to be drawn to a different painting. I had my own favorites in there, too, and I was amazed when they would choose a different one to gaze upon. I would point them in the direction of the ones I liked, but after a polite nod, they’d go back the one they liked to start with.
Some folks would stand and stare at a particular painting for several minutes. I wondered what they were thinking about. Sometimes the length of time they stood silently there would make me uncomfortable. I wanted to fill the silence with words, but it felt as though I would be interrupting a moment. I noticed others would come and look at a painting, walk away, and come back again to look at the same one. It’s like it was calling to them. Silently, I was wishing they’d just buy it already. Then some would ask me what the inspiration was for a particular work. I’d glance around quickly and see if mom was coming back… because honestly I had no idea.
For some reason, it seemed to matter to those who took an interest in a piece, what had inspired the work.
Who knows what it is that draws us each to a particular work of art. I think the same can be said of scripture passages. What draws me to a particular one? I might have skimmed over that very one a hundred times only to take note of it on the hundred and first look. Some passages I come back to over and over again. Many I pass over and others pull me like a moth to a flame. And what about the inspiration behind a particular verse? Luckily we don’t have to ask someone else about that. For the Holy Spirit who inspired each and every verse will reveal that inspiration to us.
What passage is speaking to you right now?
Maybe you’ve passed it over many times, but right now it’s pulling you in, shaping your heart and sharpening your mind. Perhaps it’s providing you comfort or strength in hard times, or encouraging you to press on in your path. Maybe you have one that no matter how many times you read it, it moves you. It’s become your life verse.
Maybe you’ve never had the experience of gazing upon a passage of scripture and having it pull you in. To you, that all sounds just a little hinky. Perhaps we (those kind enough to have read this far) can jump start your experience.
If you have been stopped in your tracks and had your attention grabbed by a scripture, will you share it here? (You know- under Comments?) It won’t ask you for any personal information. You can even leave your verse anonymously if you like. But if you share, perhaps someone else could be caught up in a moment. Go ahead, type out the whole thing. Together, we’ll provide a gallery of beautiful works to strengthen, encourage and enlighten.
Okay, fine- I’ll go first.
My mother is an artist.