When I was a teen, I had the incomparable benefit of being able to visit the Louvre. The artwork I saw there stunned me and left an indelible imprint upon my heart and mind. I’ll never forget the hushed and solemn atmosphere of that beautiful place, as good as any church for engendering feelings of reverence and awe in me.
Some of the paintings were small, like the Mona Lisa, and others covered entire walls of the enormous palace. Battle scenes in life sized proportion stretched out before me, Biblical scenes came alive in vivid color, historical vignettes brought my studies to life, and countless portraits caused me to stand in studied wonder.
As a teen, and as an adult, I have been a devotee of the Impressionist Movement and the works of art it spawned are among my very favorites. The feeling of movement, the bright colors, the fresh subject matter–it all combined to create what I think are some of the most beautiful works of art in history.
So it’s no surprise that I think of God as an Impressionist. The divine artist at work in my life is no doubt holding his palette, dabbing at my life with the quick, practiced strokes of Renoir standing in an open field, marking down each vibrant red poppy.
One truth about Impressionist art is that it is best taken in at a distance. Because of the nature of the flowing colors and sense of motion, the images only coalesce and make sense when looked at from a few feet away. The true beauty and vibrancy can only be appreciated from the proper perspective.
This is true of my own life as well.
Like a small child at a museum, however, I stand with my face practically pressed against the paint, unable to make heads or tails out of what I am looking at.
Step back, God calls. Step back. See my hand. See, I am still at work, I have not rested nor forgotten this painting. You are my masterpiece, and I will complete what I have begun. Come, draw close to me. See from my perspective.
And, wonder of wonders, the closer I am to him, the more I see the big picture. The better my focus becomes, and I can relax and trust the master artist. His plan for this paltry piece of canvas, stretched across the years I am given, is better than any I could conceive.