A Peace of Art

After a long winter, a fine layer of dust has settled over everything in my house.  While I am not a germaphobe, I do like cleanliness.  Therefore, since I am on Spring Break this week, and we are not taking a trip, I decided that my goal for the week was to do a little Spring Cleaning.

Today’s focus was the dining room. I decided that if I tackle one room per day, I wouldn’t get so overwhelmed.  The first task was to empty and wash each item in my hutch.  I hate clutter, but you wouldn’t be able to guess that by looking in my hutch.  Inside is an eclectic collection of crystal dishes, porcelain figurines, and other bric-a-brac.  Most everything in the hutch has a history and a story attached to it.

This fact came to mind as I carefully removed six delicate cups and saucers.  These days, there isn’t much call for such tea cups and saucers.  Afternoon tea parties are a rarity in this day and age, and if something happened to me or my husband, I fear that my kids would put them on a garage sale table.  To the current generation, they are considered useless trinkets that take up space, pretty baubles with no value other than aesthetic beauty.  While their usefulness may be an arguable point, the truth is that they are priceless, and here’s why.

According to what I was told, my great-great-great grandparents emigrated from Germany.  Among the possessions in the steamer trunk were these very cups and saucers.  Thus, the cups and saucers were made by artisans in Germany, and they somehow survived the journey from Germany to my hutch. 

As I carefully washed each piece in soapy water, I ran my fingers along the inside of the cups where I was surprised to feel a bump, kind of like a speed bump, along the rim of each cup. Some wise craftsman had created the bump so that tea drinker could sip without fear of the liquid “jumping the barrier” before required to do so.  Looking closely, I marveled at how the artist so skillfully attached the handle, delicate yet strong at the same time.

As I rinsed the dishes, I wondered, Why just six cups and saucers? Was there one of each for each member of the family? Were they intended for everyday use? If not, why include them in the steamer trunk, where they took up precious room for other, more useful items? Were they a wedding gift? Were they intended to be a prize item to be displayed with pride in a new house in America? Did they anticipate entertaining new friends in a new country?

I will never know the answers to these questions because anybody who could tell me the answer is now gone.  Gone also is the craftsman who created the pieces.  As he formed each piece, did he wonder where his art would end up, and with whom?

While the creator is gone, his art remains for us, most specifically, me, to enjoy and appreciate.  That alone assures its usefulness to me.  Not only are the pieces items of beauty, indicative of the imagination and skill of the artisan; they are also anchors to my past , a tangible reminder of who I am and a chapter in the story of me. 

In the same vein, sunsets, waterfalls, lilac bushes, and even the delicate lace of dragonfly’s wings are indicative of the imagination and creativity of the Creator.  Like the cups, the usefulness of each item in the list might be arguable. However, there is no denying sensory explosion of each; their aesthetic appeal awes and humbles us.  Likewise, each is a tangible manifestation of the Creator; we are reminded of His existence and His creative expertise. Best of all, we are proudly reminded of the fact that we are related to this creative genius. His works of art are tangible reminders of who we are; therefore, we can say with pride and without hesitation, “My Dad made that!”

John Keats, the poet, once wrote:

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing…

Our Creator, in His ultimate wisdom, surrounded us with a creative palette of endless beauty and designs that cause to shake our heads at the marvelous complexity of it all.  Even so, as Keats’s poetry describe, the end result is a confirmation of the Creator and His unquestionable skill and an ensuing, indescribable peace.

Epic Fails: Falling from Grace or Grace For Falls?

Yesterday was an epic fail kind of day.  I have a particularly-pesky group of sophomores, who are extremely immature and attention-seeking.  In trying to adequately describe the situation to others, I have said teaching this class is comparable to driving a stagecoach or a wagon.  I have a firm grasp on the reins at all times because if I relax at all, I will have a stampede on my hands.

As a teacher with 22 years of experience, I pride myself on maintaining my composure at all times.  I have seen and heard just about everything, so it is usually difficult for students to lure me in.  Well, yesterday, I dropped that ball big time.  I didn’t throw furniture or drop f-bombs or anything like that. I just got angry. 

In the greater scheme of things, this fact is not really that big of a deal.  It is just a big deal to me.  I consider myself a missionary of sorts.  With that in mind, I try to model Christ-like behavior so that others can see Him through me.  That’s why I am so disappointed in myself. 

As I was reading my devotions, I discovered a kindred spirit in Peter.  Matthew 26 talks about the Last Supper and the night on which Jesus was arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Verses 69-74, in particular, describe Peter’s disownment of Christ.

Of the disciples, Peter seems to be the most passionate.  He was one of those do-first, think-later kinds of people.  In being a follower of Christ, that seemed to be an admirable quality, especially in considering the seemingly-inexplicable and odd things that Christ asked the disciples to do.  He didn’t allow “what-ifs” or over-thinking to get in the way of him doing Christ’s bidding.  In short, Peter was modeling true Christian behavior.

Even so, Peter was also human, which means he was susceptible to sin and failure, just like the rest of us. In Matthew 26, we see Peter’s epic fail.

Early in the passage, Peter told God that he would never betray him. Then, later in the passage, he proceeded, three times, to deny Christ – complete with swearing! Then, according to the Bible, when the rooster crowed, “He went outside and wept bitterly” (v. 74).

As I read this passage, I was struck with a unique and weird observation. Why is it that when we fail, we want to be by ourselves to wallow in our shame.  Even now as I write this, I am sitting in my bedroom with the door closed. I have erected an invisible wall with an equally invisible sign that says, “Do not enter.” This must be an instinctual response because it was Adam and Eve’s first impulse after sinning in the Garden of Eden as well.  They ran and hid from God.

I suppose it is because sin (moral failure) is a betrayal of God – our Father, Creator, Friend.  We are ashamed to face the one with whom we should have our closest relationship.  In considering all He has done and sacrificed for us, it seems pathetic when we fail/falter in offering up the only thing we have to give in return – ourselves.

Even in the midst of our epic fail moments, there is encouragement.  First, the fact that we have such instinctual reactions (shame, self-loathing, a desire to run) attests to the fact that we are/were/have been made in God’s image.  We have an innate sense of right, wrong, and sin.  What a blessing to be equipped with such knowledge!  Even though choice and consequence still lie at our feet, God has given us, as His creation, the ability to not only choose but choose wisely. It is a matter of will, not ignorance.

“The sense of the irreparable is apt to make us despair. If we imagine this kind of despair is exceptional, we are mistaken; it is a very ordinary human experience. . .never let a sense of failure corrupt your new action” (Oswald Chambers).

Secondly, we know that God covers our failures.  The price for our sin has been paid.  We do not have to agonize over our failures because “as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12).

God takes care of our epic fails, so we can let them go.  By running to Him versus from Him, we find forgiveness and our new, true focus.