Staring at Carpet in the Art Gallery

"All the world's a stage," Shakespeare wrote. It's an art gallery, too.

Imagine being invited to have dinner at one of the world’s foremost restaurants and ordering…a hotdog and plain potato chips. Or visiting the famed Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C., and spending the entire time reading a Looney Tunes comic book.

This morning I read an insightful observation by author Max Lucado, about our proclivity for not appreciating the wonders of God’s handiwork: “We live in an art gallery of divine creativity and yet are content to only gaze at the carpet.”

That’s not to discount the impact of stylish, colorful carpet on a room’s décor. But if you went to a prestigious art gallery, you’d admire the work of Renoir, Monet, Picasso, Remington, even Grandma Moses – not the polyester pile underfoot.

Similarly, walking out our front door we are surrounded by myriad wonders the Lord has created, but too often our response is a disinterested shrug.

A full moon spotted in the morning hours.

Consider the majesty of the Grand Canyon; grandeur of Pike’s Peak, and the “kissing camels” in Colorado Springs’ Garden of the Gods; sparkling waters of the Caribbean; thunderous Niagara Falls; a star-filled, cloudless sky; Tennessee’s picturesque Smoky Mountains; a full moon at an early morning hour; spectacular sunrises and sunsets.

Then there are manmade marvels for which God provided the imagination and innovation to build: Monuments and museums in our nation’s capital; the magnificent skylines of New York City and Chicago; the centuries-old castles and cathedrals of Europe; the stately pyramids of Egypt, Mexico and South America; bridges proudly spanning our great rivers.

Accosted daily by such splendor, beauty and endless variety, I can’t comprehend complacency toward God and His creation. The Bible says, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world” (Psalm 19:4).

What more evidence do we need?

Sadly, instead of acknowledging and adoring the God who made all of this possible in this “art gallery” we call earth and the universe, we’re examining tiny tufts in the carpet.

Returning to My Roots, Literarily

When I was a freshman in college, an English instructor affirmed I had promising writing ability and urged me to nurture it. Because of her encouragement, I changed my major to English, which seemed more appropriate for an aspiring writer.

As the academic year ended, however, I began reconsidering. Not whether to become a writer, but whether I should major in English. I remember thinking, “I don’t want to spend my life writing about flowers and trees.” So I decided to major in journalism, which meant transferring to another institution. From my very first class in journalism it was vocational love at first sight.

The other day, however, it struck me that even though I’m a journalist, flowers and trees still provide me occasional subject matter. But it’s not because I’m fixated on petals and pansies. Nearly 100 years ago, journalist and poet Joyce Kilmer (a guy, by the way), wrote a poem called “Trees,” in which he states, “I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree…. Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree.”

I’m not much of a poet, but I concur with Kilmer’s literary sense that trees and flowers, arrayed in countless colors, shapes and designs, are glorious examples of God’s creative hand. So from time to time I write about them – and photograph them – conveying by word and image a reflection of His creation.

In Romans 1:20 it says, “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities – his eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.”

Just as artists deserve praise for beautiful paintings, and composers merit commendation for stirring concertos, we should worship and glorify the God of all eternity for His handiwork. When I write about it, or capture it photographically, I believe I’m doing just that.

Sunsets . . . and Other Acts of God

Talking with a friend earlier this week, it occurred to us that God could use a public relations makeover – because apparently many people think of Him only when bad things occur.

Take, for example, the common term used in insurance policies: “acts of God.” When we read that, we know it refers to calamitous events like hurricanes, tornados, floods, and tsunamis. So we’ve become convinced unless we want our day ruined, we should avoid acts of God at all costs.

But why don’t we think of other things as acts of God? Things like sunrises and sunsets, flowers in bloom, leaves changing color in the fall, snow transforming a nondescript street into a crystalline, wintry wonderland?

What about the birth of a baby, a child laboring over a crayon drawing for Mommy or Daddy, or a couple celebrating more than 50 years of marriage – and still obviously in love with and devoted to one another?

Have you ever seen the Grand Canyon? Talk about an act of God! Or viewed a majestic, snow-covered mountain peak? Or listened as waves relentlessly tumbled onto the shore?

I love going to places like SeaWorld or aquariums, where a wondrous variety of creatures cavort for our enjoyment – sharks, rays, killer whales, seals, walruses, otters, alligators, fish of all shapes and a myriad of colors.

Yes, some acts of God result in destruction and despair, often defying explanation, but so many of His other – typically unacknowledged – acts stir up wonder, delight and excitement. He wants us to enjoy His creation; and draw closer to Himself in the process.

As Romans 1:20 tells us, “since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities – his eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.”

For Our Enjoyment

All around us here, leaves on the trees are turning an amazing array of reds, oranges and yellows. The funny thing is, as I understand it, there is no practical purpose for the color change from green.

Green leaves are the result of chlorophyll, a green pigment that absorbs red and blue light from the sun. In the fall, however, shorter days and cooler nights interrupt the natural process of chlorophyll being manufactured and replaced as it decomposes. Hence the different colors as chlorophyll breaks down and is not reintroduced into the leaves.

Scientists apparently have not discovered any useful reasons for the specific colors. They are a delight to observe, certainly. In many parts of the country, our eyes can feast on a smorgasbord of color – until rain and wind detach the leaves from their limbs and they tumble to the ground.

The same can be said about breathtaking sunrises and sunsets. The vivid reds and other hues appear briefly, greeting us in the morning and bidding us a good evening, but aside from the visual sensation, we are none the better or worse for them.

Why then do we have this ever-changing palette of nature, revealing itself to us from day to day? I think it’s a gift from God, a manifestation of His love – much like a bouquet of flowers from a husband who is not making amends for a wrong, or a parent buying a toy or a treat for a child, for the simple reason of “just because.” They are the Lord’s subtle way of saying to His children, “I love you – and don’t forget.”

“If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give…to those who ask him?” (Luke11:13).