May 28, 2008

Visits from God

Yesterday I looked up to the mountains that I once loved to reproduce in paintings and gloried in the fact that God is Creator. Today I feel like I don’t have to redo what He has done, nor copy it so I can take it home with me. The majesty of the Rockies is but a reflection of the majesty of God. I can appreciate them, but the compulsion to paint them is no longer in me.

This might seem like an insignificant thing, but for me I’ve experienced a release of something, even though I’m not sure I can define it. I know that it is okay to be a creative being (we are made in His image), but there is a fine line between creating from who I am—and trying to reproduce what God does. For some reason, the first seems like a way to glorify Him and the latter borders dangerously on making graven images.

This brings to mind the controversy over images used in some religious practices. In the early church it was argued that icons were graven images. Finally the Council of Nicaea (A.D. 787) declared that “images might lawfully be displayed in churches because they called up memories of their archetypes and so aroused contemplation of God and his gracious condescension to human estate, his love, his providence, and his mercy.” This Council distinguished between true worship (belonging to God alone) and veneration which might properly be accorded images. The honor paid to an image, it was argued, “is in reality directed to its archetype.”

Evangelicals wear crosses as jewelry and not consider them as icons or graven images. The empty cross ought to remind us of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ for our sins. I’m almost certain that most of the time it does not, but few would call this a sin or even an icon.

My concerns are about painting something that God has made. The Bible says that all creation declares the glory of God. When I look at creation, I often think of God, but I must confess that I usually do not think of Him when I look at a painting, either a landscape or a portrait. Yes, God created the subject matter, but an artist recreated it, and the painting usually makes me think about the artist.

Such a response could be more the viewer’s than the painter’s intention, but could this be a subtle way of robbing God of His glory? Is this what God is trying to tell me?

Looking further, I found that this might be a proper way to look at art. This quote is from a book called Written in Stone.
An idol was something crafted by a tool. Whether it was carved out of wood, chiseled out of stone, or engraved in metal, it was cut and shaped by human hands. It was a man-made representation of some divine being.
This did not mean that the Israelites were forbidden to use tools. Nor did it mean that they were not allowed to produce artwork. Later, when it was time to build the tabernacle, God sent the Israelites his Spirit “to devise artistic designs, to work in gold, silver and bronze, in cutting stones for setting, and in carving wood, to work in every craft” (Exodus 31:4–5). So what the second commandment ruled out was not making things, but making things to serve as objects of worship. This is clarified in the second part of the rule: “You shall not bow down to them or serve them” (Exodus 20:5a). The Israelites were strictly forbidden to make images of God to use in worship. Although God appreciates artistry, he will not tolerate idolatry.
The author of this book goes on to say, “This rule is clarified with a list of the kinds of idols God forbids: “You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth” (Exodus 20:4). That pretty much covers it: nothing in the sky, nothing on the ground, and nothing in the sea! In other words, the Israelites were not allowed to represent God in the form of anything in all creation.”

From that I understand that it would be idolatry to painting something God created and then let it represent God to me. It seems far better to think of the artist when viewing a painting than letting that painting represent something about God. Then why is God telling me to stop doing this? What is the correct view of art, at least for my Christian life?

More reading and I find that John Calvin said the human heart is “a perpetual factory of idols.” Rather than worshiping God “in spirit and truth” (John 4:24), we reshape and remake Him until he is safely under our control.

How does this happen? One way is trying to make God visible, in some way seen by the eyes. In a world where images have such power, this is a temptation even in the church. We tend to think that we need to give people something to see, more powerful visuals, yet God never asks that of us. Instead, He wants us to listen!

After reading an incredible book called The Humiliation of the Word by Jacques Ellul, I first realized that a media-driven world makes hearing God more difficult. In fact, my own ears often close to Him the more my eyes are engaged. This is not that I cannot hear sound, but that I do not hear God. This is why we should shut our eyes when we pray—it shuts out the visual distractions.

All this being said, I am curious that this ban from God to me about creativity in painting landscapes does not extend to quilting, even quilting landscapes. What is the difference? I am not sure why, but I know that as I paint a reproduction of what God has done, I am not hearing Him. This is purely visual, but even then, I cannot sense His glory in that painting. When I am working in fabric, the problem is not there. In fact, I can pray while I sew and easily listen to Him—and He comes through loud and clear.

I’m not sure I understand all this. I do know that God wants me to worship Him in the right way and not play around with any images that represent Him to my heart. I didn’t think I was doing that in painting landscapes, but something was not right in my reason for want to preserve what I could see outdoors and hang it on my wall indoors.

I’m certainly willing to worship Him the right way, not with any form of idols or idol making in my own mind. Written in Stone says that the only thing that can save me from any private idolatry is simple: Rather than remaking God into my image, I need to concentrate on being remade into his image. God does that by bringing me into a personal saving relationship with his Son Jesus Christ, and then using all things to shape me and change me into that image.

My devotional reading today is about being visited with God’s salvation. This is about that salvation that happens once to save me from the penalty of sin, then keeps happening as He delivers me from the power of sin. The reading starts with Psalm 106:4-6:
Remember me, O Lord, with the favor You have toward Your people. Oh, visit me with Your salvation, that I may see the benefit of Your chosen ones, that I may rejoice in the gladness of Your nation, that I may glory with Your inheritance. We have sinned with our fathers, we have committed iniquity, we have done wickedly.
When God “visits” me, my life is changed. Yet as the reading says, a person can experience such a visit only when he or she first recognizes His condemnation of sin. Truly, Jesus Christ comes to only those who know they are lost and need saving. As a Christian I also know that Jesus Christ comes to only those who have a sense of being bankrupt in all areas of life, in religion, righteousness, strength, confidence, hope. We must have all that is of the flesh stripped away by the hand of God. Then we are ready for a visit from Him, a visit that brings His saving power.

The reading reminds me that when I realize that I am nothing, have nothing, know nothing, only then will I cry out to God. Then He comes to visit me and as the reading says, “a living soul can be satisfied with nothing short of this.”

If something, anything, takes me away from God, even if it seems a good thing, that thing is not for me. It might not fit the description of a graven image or an idol, but if because of it I am unable to pay attention to the Lord, then this must be confessed as sin and forsaken.

The previous quote, that “a living soul can be satisfied with nothing short of this” was verified to me this past couple of days. In about three hours I painted a lovely little scene, probably the best work I’ve ever done, but I didn’t enjoy even one minute of doing the thing, and was troubled by that, even though the painting looks great.

In contrast, the next morning I spent thirty minutes in prayer and visiting with God. During that, I was happy, refreshed, comforted, peaceful, without burdens and blessed. I may not get the theology of what is going on here, but I do get this much: when God visits me, everything else becomes nothing—and He is Lord of my heart.

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