This verse really stood out to me today. This month I'm looking at the concept of faith with my youth group - what is it, what difference it makes, what it means to have it, and so on. And then, in my preparation, I stumbled across this verse via a page listing three people who stood out for their faith in the gospels.
In Matthew 15:21-18, this lady stands out for her faith. In a time when people of her race were villainised, and people of her gender were victimised, she repeatedly and restlessly sought out the one who could help her. She trusted without hesitating. I wondered: when little things are piling up against me, do I still have the faith that pauses in trying to fix everything myself (or puts a stop on the anxiety-driven fear-mongering of myself) to fall down and know that God will help me? To know it! Because this lady had every reason to leave, or give up, or just fight everyone, and call them out - her precious daughter was being daily afflicted, and no-one had been able to help, and now there was one who she knew could. And who she trusted would - if she could just get through to him. So instead of seeing all the roadblocks around her, she kept her eyes (and her trust) fixed on Jesus. She cried out to him until Jesus' followers begged Jesus to send her away because they were so annoyed. Then she cried out some more until Jesus stopped and told her he wasn't sent to her, "but she came and knelt before him, saying 'Lord, help me.'" She tells him that she doesn't need it all, just some - she says he has enough power to feed those he was sent to feed, and with just the crumbs of the leftovers, he has the power to heal her daughter. This woman knows Jesus, and that drives all her thought processes, actions, and emotions. "O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire." came Jesus' reply. "And her daughter was healed instantly." Again: when little things are piling up against me, do I still have the faith that pauses in trying to fix everything myself (or put a stop on the anxiety-driven fear-mongering of myself) to fall down and know that God will help me? To know it!
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I want to make two points, using this painting to do so:
1) Movement. Notice the curve blowing over at the top and the peachy-white spaces smudging against each other and floating on the tips of the waves. Working with fluid acrylics creates space for this movement. And movement reminds me that things change. That negative spaces can become positive and good times should be counted as blessings rather than a guarantee. 2) Colour. I love these colours. You might also love them, or you might not, but zoom in (click on the images below) and you can see bright red that becomes deep red as it nears a particular edge; coral overlaid with dark teal lines; teal that runs through green to blue, to purple, to almost black; and flecks of gold that shine. Like, really shine. There are colours and interactions between colours that you only see when you look close, and which I, as the artist, didn't always plan for. It reminds me of the possibility of more. Points me to a God who "is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or imagine, according to the power at work within us" - if I'm willing to stop, look and notice them. Shows me that sometimes things appear when and where they're not expected. Even during annoying, anger-provoking or sad times, unexpected good ideas or occurrences can appear! As if from somewhere beyond you - and this, at least for me, is a comfort I need to be able to rely on! I just got back from a week away by the sea! It's good to be home and to catch up on all the things I didn't do while on holiday, but I'm also always sad to say goodbye to the sea. And this photo pretty much sums those feelings up for me. I imagine my face with this wistful, longing look on it, gazing out, trying to know every undulation and take in all of this expanse - which I can't possibly do - while I can.
The sea has always made me think of God. How vast it is. How powerful it is. That I could never fully take it all in, but therefore, that I could never tire of endlessly exploring it. I remember a couple of years ago, sitting out on a surfboard in Cornwall waiting for a wave to come, and I kind of feel like that now. I feel like God is allowing me to glimpse something of the wonderful plans God has for me to get involved in - out there on the horizon - and I'm waiting. But it doesn't feel like it has at points in the past: like I'm aimlessly waiting, and praying desperately that God would reveal to me what I'm to do, because without that purpose explained I'm just bobbing around. And my legs are so tired from all the treading water that I know I can't keep it up. In those moments, I've needed God to save me. And God did. But this is different. This is like sitting on that surfboard. I have the feeling in my muscles from the shorter waves I caught closer in, practice spaces, trial and planning phases. I'm grateful for the rest as I sit and feel the undercurrents of God - the motions and movements, the direction they're pulling in. I'm immensely impressed at the beauty and vastness of God as I stare out at the sea all around me. I don't mind that I'm waiting this time - sure, I'm excited and looking forward to when it does come - but I'm not anxious or distressed in this waiting, because I'm spending this time delighting in who God is and all that God has done. And possibly more than anything, I am so hopeful. I'm excited. I feel elevated. There is a sense still, while I'm waiting, that something is about to happen. The waters are starting to stir in the way they do when there's going to be a big wave. And I want it. I don't know if I'll be able to ride it in all the way; there's a real possibility I might fall. But this is the sea we're talking about. This is God we're thinking of. There will be more waves. Grace comes again and again - and the more I ride on these waves, the more exceptional those rides will become. Don't get me wrong - I've experienced both of these kinds of waiting, and I probably will again. Sometimes waiting is just really hard. We all today live in a culture of immediacy, which means that waiting for something jars with us. We start to think that maybe it won't happen at all. I have struggled with this on numerous occasions. But I wanted to share this with you all because there are other kinds of waiting too, and waiting can be a positive experience. If you're in the midst of a waiting struggle - keep praying, be honest to God with your feelings, and allow God to save you from them. And if you're in the midst of a waiting like mine on the surfboard - delight in it, document it so you can remember it in the future, praise God in it. God is a God of all our different experiences and emotions. So keep God involved in them! Sorry for the lack of a post last week - I've been really busy finding and then starting a job after finishing my Master's at the same time of preparing for and then taking part in an art exhibition! Which is what I wanted to write about today. Last week I had my first ever art exhibition. It was in central London and I exhibited with a group of 10 other people on the theme of Utopia. We all explored the theme from a sociological standpoint and a theological standpoint, and the conversations that grew out of this were incredible. I can't wait to do it again! This was my biggest piece in the exhibition: Measuring at 1m x 1.2m, it's also by far the biggest piece I've ever made! It's called Utopia: A Necessary Impossible Possibility.
My idea here is effectively that Utopia is something at the centre - at the core - which we’re searching for and yearning for, which is beautiful but impossible to fully grasp, impossible to reach and get to and put our hands on, and a mystery. But still it directs us. Around it, all the other aspects of ourselves and our lives float and mingle: some of them beautiful, others scary, others ambiguous. But they are directed into and towards the Utopia. As a Christian, the Utopia of a perfect God, and a perfect place where that perfect God will make all bad things disappear: well, I don’t understand that fully. It is impossible to fully grasp and reach, but it shapes how all the other aspects of my life fit together, flow and mingle. In the decisions that I make, I try to make them point towards that Utopia. Even though I know that I cannot fix the world and all its problems, I try to make decisions that do good, as if I could (even whilst knowing I can’t). In that sense, I am trying to bring into view something that is beautiful to others, and good, and impossibly wonderful, and mysterious. Something Utopian. Something like God. I (kind of, not really) apologise for the terrible pun... But as you might've seen elsewhere on social media, if you follow either my art Instagram or FB page - I just finished and handed in my dissertation (above)!!! It has been a long journey, with a lot of days in it where I felt I would never make it, a lot more days where I was confident I would and I was simply lost in the joy of researching and writing! But what is it that I've been working almost non-stop on for the last 4 or 5 months?? Well, let me tell you!
My abstract reads: "This dissertation offers an alternative understanding to several of the peaceful vision passages in the Hebrew Bible. Specifically, it addresses: (1) the image of transcendence in the raising of the mountain in Micah 4:1-5 and Isaiah 2:2-5, and how this relates to (or results in) weapons being made into tools; (2) the depiction of peace and security in Isaiah 11:1-9 and 65:17-25, especially prominent in the images of predators with prey; and (3) visions of utopian joy and celebration in Isaiah 35:1-10 and 29:17-24. The works of three metamodern, contemporary artists - David Thorpe, Olafur Eliasson and Paula Doepfner - are used to produce a hermeneutical lens (using the metamodern understanding of utopia, developed by analysing the art works, as a tool with which to read these biblical texts from a particular perspective). This then develops a new interpretation in an attempt to allow the biblical texts to dialogue with a contemporary generation. Thus, a metamodern reading of these visions focuses on the ability of the depictions of a peaceful future in the Hebrew Bible to estrange readers from their present reality in order to be able to critique, through the perspective of the utopia, what in their lives it perceives as negative. Furthermore, the visions as utopias function constructively as well as critically and so they also educate readers’ desires in wanting a better alternative reality. Confronted with ambiguity, violence, hope and a sense of an ‘impossible possibility’ in the passages, metamodern readers continue seeking this better alternative reality while knowing that they will never find it. Being metamodern, these individuals oscillate between knowing utopia is not possible and knowing it is the only way forward. These visionary texts, for a metamodern audience then, lead to confusion and uncertainty, but they also provide much needed hope and an authentic promise of something more to keep striving for." I have loved looking at and reading about the contemporary art and these artists, and analysing how art can help biblical scholars to both access and share meaning in a contemporary way. This allows the Bible to continue to dialogue with contemporary generations and the structures of feeling that surround them. If you are interested in reading my dissertation then get in touch; let me know the purpose for your interest and I'll see what I can do! As always - thanks for reading, and much love! |
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AuthorI'm a recent Cambridge Theology graduate now studying for a Masters in Biblical Studies and blogging about all sorts of things! I'm interested in faith, Church, theology, social action, the great outdoors and being creative, and all of those things - along with many more - come through in my posts!
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