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Posts Tagged ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’

I am a writer. I play with words—a lot. I rearrange them. I delete them and replace with more suitable ones. I shape them into phrases and sentences for hours on end. I love to tell stories and paint pictures with them, hopefully touching others’ hearts in the process and giving them a small glimpse at least of the loving heart of God. I am so grateful for this gift of writing, yet I also find myself in awe of those who can create via some form of visual art, in all its infinite variety.

This year at our church, Parramatta Baptist, our pastors have sensed God calling us to focus on the theme of ‘Ask, Seek, Knock’, as Jesus invites us to do in Matthew 7:7-8:

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.

So recently, they invited us all to commit ourselves to ask—to pray by name for God’s transforming presence in others; to seek—to pursue more of God’s transforming presence in our own lives; and to knockto appeal for the places and lives that we long to see open more to God. As I listened, I realised this was no man-made challenge they were giving us all—there was nothing of the ‘You should do this’ or ‘You must do better’ about it. Instead, we were being freely and joyfully invited to be part of God’s purposes for us as a body and for others. And what a unique, creative way they found to do just that!

One Sunday, we arrived to find several tables dotted around the chapel and on each were a pile of small, oval-shaped pieces of vinyl in grey and brown shades, along with some felt pens. As well, right in the centre of the church was a bright red wheelbarrow, decorated with fairy lights. As the service progressed, we were invited to commit ourselves to ‘ask, seek and knock’ by writing our name on one of these vinyl pieces and placing it in the wheelbarrow.

IMG_20190303_101333209That day, and on two further Sundays, around four hundred people did just that. Then last Sunday we arrived to find this beautiful piece of artwork installed in our chapel, with all those signed pieces of vinyl arranged to form the soil from which the tree of God’s kingdom would grow, flourish and bear fruit. It was created by our ministry assistant, Jo Sterland, a gifted artist and graphic designer, who blesses us and others in so many ways with her God-given gifts and abilities. Yes, now we could see, depicted clearly and beautifully for us, what a vital role we each play in providing that fertile soil of prayer to grow God’s kingdom more in our own lives and that of others. Truly, a picture paints a thousand words, don’t you think?

Yes, it’s a privilege to write or paint or create in any way for God. But it’s also a great privilege to be part of that living soil of prayer, as we focus on our amazing God who can do so much more than we can ever ask or imagine!

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Now how could I as an author ever agree with that? Words are so important and …well, so necessary. Besides, a thousand words aren’t very many when all is said and done. Even ten thousand, which I’ve also heard used in this saying, would be only around a tenth of the number in one of my novels. No big deal.

Yet even I can’t deny a picture has the power to hold one spellbound in a moment. In fact, I experienced it myself only this past Sunday at our church. As I went to sit down and turn my mind to the service about to begin, I noticed a beautiful scene at the front of the chapel. It was very simple—but oh so powerful.

What I saw was a large, wooden cross, with one end of some heavy, deep red material draped around it and the rest left to flow down from the arms of the cross towards a wooden bench below. On the bench was a large, earthenware pot, glowing warmly in the sunlight that filtered down from a skylight above. But this pot was broken, with only half of it remaining upright on its base. The shattered pieces were still there, some half in place, others lying at crazy angles nearby. And behind one of these pieces, at the centre of that broken pot, I could see a lighted candle.

My gaze travelled down from the broken piece of pottery then to the communion table below. In the centre of the table was a shiny, silver goblet filled with red juice and beside it, a round loaf of bread.

No words were needed. Already, with Easter approaching, I had been feeling that familiar, gentle melancholy that seems to creep over me each time Good Friday approaches. Yes, the celebration of the resurrection would come, I knew—but until then, I wanted to remain in that place of remembering Jesus, the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

So I sat and reflected and became aware of great thankfulness rising up in me. Humbly, I identified with that broken pot at the base of the cross. Painfully, I remembered how Jesus’ blood flowed down from that cross straight into my heart, cleansing me and setting me free. And I rejoiced too that, like the candle flame flickering behind that shard of pottery, God’s Spirit is now alive in me, comforting, encouraging, illuminating my way.

We were invited to celebrate communion—to walk up to that table, tear off a piece of that perfect loaf and dip it in the goblet. I watched as, one by one, people came forward reverently, reached out and remembered yet again with gratitude that most amazing sacrifice of all. I soon joined them, Jesus’ own words ringing in my ears:

This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me. …

This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you. (Luke 22:19–20)

This Easter, may you too see the cross with fresh eyes and be amazed, humbled and renewed all over again. Yes, the picture I saw was worth a thousand words–more than a thousand words.

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