Art, Worship, and Jesus

I walked my dog this morning while the dew was still on the grass blades.

Though the roses aren’t in bloom yet, that old hymn came to mind, the one that reads like a story, a testimony.

Even if you’re familiar with the verses, don’t skip the reading of it. These words remind you who your Savior is.

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.

He speaks, and the sound of His voice,
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.

I’d stay in the garden with Him
Though the night around me be falling,
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling.

And this has me wondering, why wouldn’t we worship on the Wednesday before Good Friday? Why wouldn’t we let our praise and offerings waft right up to Him today? So I ran errands and drove to meetings, and as I did so I tried to worship in song, and in thought, and in prayer, and in fellowship.

Just look at those lines there. The third stanza.

He speaks, and the sound of His voice,
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.

Beautiful, poignant language.

I once heard someone say that they didn’t understand why people felt the need to write poetic type pieces.

“Why can’t you just come right out and say it in a normal, outright, clear way?” they said.

And my response to that is…

“Why would all painters everywhere use only one color every time they painted?…the same brush strokes?… the same type of canvas? If they did this, there would be no thought, no variation, no creativity pointing us to a wildly imaginative and creative Creator. The arts would be a bore and people would be stupid.” 

Sometimes, or even a lot of the time, art and words and creations should make us dig around a little bit, move slower, crawl around. There’s something to be said about the piece of work that makes us sit and think.

Tonight, I’m squeezing this post in between tending food on the stove and grilling meat on the deck. The dog escapes every time the door opens. The boys are helping my husband with the jungle that is our front yard. The girl has been reading, and chatting, and helping Mama here.

We’re about to do showers and lay these young ones in their beds. I have plans of reading a few old Jesus hymns to them tonight. They’re all lollygagging a bit so I don’t know if that will actually happen or not. Lord, help us. But I long to settle into all these Easter themes with them, and so I shall try.

Find a good hymn, a new song, a painting, a post before you lay your head down tonight….one that speaks of His coming, or His serving, or His healing, or His teaching, or His dying, or His raising again to victorious life.

May your perusing and your dreaming be slow, sweet, and revelatory.

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