I bought a painting once. I view the moment as thisinvisible line of demarcation in my thinking. A singular moment with magnitudemany multitudes larger. I walked into a underground art shop—late at night andsaw this painting from across the room. It was as if the painting and I locked eyes from across the room.
I inquired about the painting. There was a difficult language barrier that was not going to be overcome so I was left reading faces and sorting through his responses. I purchased the painting and pointed at my camera to see if I could get a picture of the artist and the painting. I took the picture and thought about the idea of purchasing something that someone created.
I have often returned to that picture and thought about thecreative relationship between the artist and the art. How he knew every strokeand subtle hue that I would simply never catch and if I did I wouldn’t everfully appreciate it.
There’s this dichotomy between owning and possessing. Iowned the painting and I have it on my wall, but only the artist can trulypossess the painting and experience it at a deeper level.
I think that thought has stuck with me and causes me toapproach the painting for the 100th time looking for the wonder and beauty I saw in it when I first glanced at it.
It’s the recognition of the complexity that causes me to have that constant sense of wonder. I begin with the premise that this is infinitely complex and I must appreciate that complexity.
The same is true of the people in our life. We are infinitely complex and I can never truly understand someone’s story but what I can understand is that there are so many factors and so many things, feelings and subtle experiences that have shaped a person. Life is difficult and people are the products of some combination of a host of factors that exist in this broken world.
I think we can get hardened to people though.
Hardened by the daily grind of life. It’s as if the painting that use to give us a sense of wonder…well we’ve figured that painting out now.
And suddenly the infinitely complex subtle hues of color fading into each other have been viewed categorized and cast away. That sense of initial wonder has faded into a complacent sense of mastery.
Every category, every label, every preconceived notion erodes the power and authenticity of someones story. It’s as if someone began to show you an unfiltered and unedited version of their life and you said “oh I know how this one ends you don’t need to continue.
We need to know peoples stories. To move closer to them with wonder and appreciation for their innate importance. That fuels grace.
I often think if I had watched every scene of someone’s life unedited and unfiltered I would give them more not less grace. I would cry more and yell less, experience more empathy than negativity.
I think that’s why we
must approach situations appreciating the wonder complexity and
difficulty of life.
Only then when we forsake the idea that we fully understand and can categorize and sift people can we truly give others grace when they fail us.
When you think of a painter you think of someone that can truly experience the work for all it’s worth. You think of someone who sees and appreciates the complexity in the seemingly simple elements of the art. You think of someone that understands the blemishes and failures of the painting to such a degree that they are not outraged but rather find joy even with the knowledge of the mistakes.
Every time I approach the painting I want to be reminded to see it as the Creator sees the painting.
In life I want to see the same things when I see people.
I want to be reminded that an attempt to see each individual as God sees them begins with a sense of wonder and appreciation at their inherent worth and complexity.
May we see people like paintings.