Joy Comes In The Morning

TEARS, losses, disappointments, and heartaches paint the human experience. Yet, none of them go unnoticed by our heavenly Father. He, who sees the sparrow fall and clothes the field flowers, also said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (Jhn 16:33). 

So what do we do with all those painful emotions, memories, and losses?

I decided to try expressing some pervading emotions on canvas, though only on an 11×14 size, because I didn’t want to “waste” a larger canvas. All my windows looked out on grey clouds and persistent rain that day. I felt the same weather within myself. Though I share my house with two happy Havanese pups and two chirpy, sometimes annoying parakeets, this empty house still feels the profound loss of our sweet Conrad. I wanted to express the torrent of tears flooding my insides. 

I had just finished reading the book of Exodus, where God gave wisdom and understanding to certain people to do all the work of constructing the tabernacle. “Every skilled woman spun yarn with her hands and brought it: blue, purple, and scarlet yarn, and fine linen” (Ex. 35:25). So “Moses summoned Bezalel, Ololiab, and every skilled person in whose heart the LORD had placed wisdom, and everyone whose heart moved him, to come to the work and do it” (Ex. 36:2). It struck me how God gave people skill and wisdom to people to do His work.

The use of pure gold, blue, purple, and scarlet yarn and finely spun linen repeated that description until the last chapter. Then “The cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle… For the cloud of the LORD was over the tabernacle by day, and there was a fire inside the cloud by night, visible to the entire house of Israel through all the stages of their journey” (Ex 40:34,38). Hmmm, the LORD remained with them “through all the stages of their journey.”

Hebrews says God now reveals Himself through the person of Jesus Christ. Jesus told His disciples He had to go to His Father so He could send His Holy Spirit to live within them. Therefore, God’s Holy Presence dwells within us every day forever. It’s a fact, not a feeling. Until He releases us from these bodies of flesh, we continue to experience human frailty. But Jesus says, “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Mat 28:20). How wonderful that Jesus promised never to leave or forsake us through all the stages of our journey (see Heb 13:5).

So with renewed confidence, I picked gold, blue, purple, and crimson colors from my acrylic paint box and dripped “tears” from darkened blue and purple skies. An accumulating blue sea rose to meet a crimson sunset. Or was it a sunrise? Perhaps both since we look to the end of our present world and the beginning of eternity. I covered the canvas in layers of color but stopped short of satisfaction before evening.

The next day, I sat in my studio, looked at that painting again, and decided to try redeeming an apparent failure. Hours later, it came to life with bright yellow and white radiating beyond the tears. The earlier downpour became “Weeping may endure for a night, but JOY comes in the morning” (Jhn 30:5). Yes, JOY comes in the morning! The finished painting expresses sorrow and rejoicing through form and color. It illustrates the coming joy I see through my tears. The cross stands, dripping with its former occupant’s life-giving blood and water. He who took all my sins upon Himself makes way for a new morning of everlasting glory.

I thought I had finished this expression of my heart, but it still needed more. A shadow beneath the cross needed definition, and a bowing figure formed under my brush. The heavenly sunshine grew to represent church windows. As my tears turned to joy, I added hands raised to glory. 

I sat back, and suddenly, I saw the vivid orange and yellow sunset as the flames of hell! Oh no! I turned from the disturbing scene and asked the LORD to please give me a way to change this metaphor. That night, the idea of transforming the orange to a soft crimson pink came to mind. So today, I made the last changes, added my signature, and offered it to God.

I needed to express this grand theme on a vast canvas painted with large brushes and sweeping body movements instead of using tiny brushes in my trembling fingers on a small canvas. But this joy begins through a knothole view to remind us of our enduring hope.

Now I’m tired but at peace. 

I will exalt you, LORD, for you lifted me out of the depths and did not let my enemies gloat over me. LORD my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me. You, LORD, brought me up from the realm of the dead; you spared me from going down to the pit. Sing the praises of the LORD, you his faithful people; praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning (Psalm 30:1-5).

Autumn Redeemed

I FEEL IT. Not just the early morning autumn chill but the late autumn of life. Like leaves so bravely once able to resist, l feel gravity’s pull to release my tenacious hold upon all things young, strong, and vibrant. Like gnarled branches, my skin and bones feel the weathered passing of time.

While still young and strong, I painted this tree and sky in a spontaneous rush to use up old house paint samples. So I moved quickly to paint the negative space (sky) over the positive space (branches), which gave it an ethereal, fade-in-and-out appearance.

I’ve always loved this picture because it surprised me to see the colors blend together into one living whole. The tree became part of the sky, and the sky a part of the tree. One gust of wintery wind through the last lingering amber leaves and frost-tipped branches wedded autumn with winter. The large boughs contrast the lace of delicate twigs.

Today, I turned to the last chapter of King Solomon’s book of Ecclesiastes, where the wisest of men says, “Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth.” Youth passes so quickly, and we find ourselves in the autumn months too soon. Like leaves, by some malevolent force beyond ourselves, we involuntarily let go of our youthful appearance, physical strength, earthly pleasures, and what we will be when we grow up.

Solomon so poetically warns us to seek our Creator before the following twelve descriptions come upon us: (Insights added from Matthew Henry’s Commentary)

Seek God before:

1. While the sun and the light, the moon and the stars are not darkened. “They look dim to old people, in consequence of the decay of their sight; their intellectual powers and faculties, which are as lights in the soul, are weakened; their understanding and memory fail them.”
2. And the clouds do not return after the rain. “When the weather is disposed to wet, no sooner has one cloud blown over than another succeeds it, so it is with old people when they have got free from one pain or ailment, they are seized with another.”
3. When the keepers of the house tremble. “The head, which is as the watch-tower, shakes, and the arms and hands… shake too, and grow feeble, upon every sudden approach and attack of danger… easily dispirited and discouraged.”
4. The strong men shall bow themselves. “The legs and thighs, which used to support the body, and bear its weight, bend, and cannot serve for traveling as they have done, but are soon tired. Old men… in their time strong men become weak and stoop for age.”
5. The grinders cease because they are few. “The teeth, with which we grind our meat… cease to do their part, because they are few. They are rotted and broken, and perhaps have been drawn because they ache… and this infirmity is the more considerable because the meat, not being well chewed… is not well digested.”
6. Those that look out of the windows are darkened. “The eyes wax dim… ordinarily the sight decays in old people as soon as any thing, and it is a mercy to them that art helps nature with spectacles.”
7. The doors are shut in the streets. “Old people keep within doors, and care not for going abroad to entertainments. The lips, the doors of the mouth, are shut in eating, because the teeth are gone.”
8. When one rises up at the sound of a bird. “Old people rise up at the voice of the bird. They have no sound sleep as young people have, but a little thing disturbs them… they cannot rest for coughing, and therefore rise up at cock-crowing… or they are apt to be jealous, and timorous, and full of care, which breaks their sleep and makes them rise early.”
9. All the daughters of music are brought low. “They have neither voice nor ear, can neither sing themselves nor take any pleasure… Old people grow hard of hearing, and unapt to distinguish sounds and voices.”
10. Also they are afraid of height; And of terrors in the way; “They are… afraid to go to the top of any high place, either because, for want of breath, they cannot reach it, or, their heads being giddy or their legs failing them… Fear is in the way; they can neither ride nor walk with their former boldness.”
11. When the almond-tree flourishes. “The old man’s hair has grown white, so that his head looks like an almond-tree in the blossom. The almond-tree blossoms before any other tree, and therefore fitly shows what haste old age makes in seizing upon men.”
12. The grasshopper is a burden and desire fails. “Old men can bear nothing; the lightest thing sits heavily upon them, both on their bodies and on their minds… Perhaps the grasshopper was some food… but even that lies heavily upon an old man’s stomach, and therefore desire fails, he has no appetite to his meat, neither shall he regard the desire of woman.”

What a dismal picture! Yet, that is Solomon’s poetic point—to seek our Creator while our eyes, ears, and minds remain sharp. Why give our youth, strength, and vitality to fleeting, momentary pursuits or pleasures without birthing a relationship with God?

Yet, I see redemption of old age in what we learn from our mistakes and failures (if we will still remember them). King Solomon most likely described old age from experience. His wisdom echoes through time to warn the young not to wait until the loss of all earthly things, including our minds.

I could personally lament all the ways I relate to Ecclesiastes 12. However, you have your own stories to know what Solomon and Matthew Henry wrote about only too well. Suffice it to say, we thank God for medications, glasses, hearing aids, sleep tabs, doctors, modern medicine, supplements, etc. 

Yet, when old age has already crept in, Paul encourages us with these words: “Therefore, we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal” (2Co 4:16-18).

Despite the shortened earth years left to us, a glorious eternal future awaits us! God promised us unimaginable joys and pleasures with indescribable happiness and peace. Years ago, when my husband took a new job selling insurance, he became discouraged over the slow financial return. His boss told him, “I just look at all the money that will come in over time, and mentally live there.”

Paul said the same thing when he wrote, If then you were raised with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God. Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth (Col 3:1-2).

The aged and deeply grooved trunk in my painting illustrates the passing of time. Unseen roots hold the tree fast until spring arrives with new life. Psalm 1 says the person who won’t take ungodly advice, stand with sinners, or sit with scorners is blessed. It goes on to commend the one who delights in God’s word day and night. Then it promises, “He shall be like a tree Planted by the rivers of water, That brings forth its fruit in its season, Whose leaf also shall not wither; And whatever he does shall prosper.” 

We, too, can send down unseen roots into streams of living water, or not. God says through Jeremiah, the “weeping prophet,” “My people have committed two sins: They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water (Jer. 2:13). 

Like autumn leaves, we often cling desperately to our perceived earthly securities, only for them to be swept away with the first winter storm. Yet, just as the silvery frost on lifeless limbs hints at the coming beauty of snow, our heavenly Father enrobes us in the pure white righteousness of Christ.

Each season brings its own adornment. We watch in wonder as Creator dons the summer trees with the lushness of green foliage, only to set them on fire with autumn, blanket them in the silvery frost of winter, and adorn them with spring blossoms. 

Our life seasons also change, and we all grow old, notwithstanding an untimely death. So we do well to see the beauty that arrives with each season and see each day as a gift of grace. Although trees go on from season to season for hundreds of years, the psalmist says of us, “The days of our lives are seventy years; And if by reason of strength they are eighty years, Yet their boast is only labor and sorrow; For it is soon cut off, and we fly away… So teach us to number our days, That we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psa. 90:10,12).

When we packed up our home before leaving Alaska, we had a garage sale to lighten our load. Some things were hard for me to let go of until I became keenly aware of a still, small voice say to my heart, “Let it go, dear one, let it go.” Through those loving words, the Lord gave this autumn leaf the trust to let go of treasured earthly possessions and securities. Since then, my life continues in a series of having to “let go.” Oh, but there is so much more to gain! Though now, much remains unseen, the day comes when my faith will become a visible eternal reality!

Not only does wisdom remember our Creator in the days of our youth, but certainly before we “fly away.” Oh, to gain a heart of wisdom from a long life while we patiently await our glorious and final transformation!

Transformation

Dear ones,

Today, I offer you a white rose. Unopened. Painted over a hurriedly sketched black background, it stands in demure but clear contrast to the darkness. The fully pregnant rosebud holds promise. The veined leaves celebrate life.

White represents holiness and purity, as the Son of God clothes His bride in the wedding gown of His righteousness. He took her filthy rags upon Himself and exchanged them for His absolute purity. By her faith in Him and His shed blood for her, she becomes His white rose, unopened, unadulterated, pure and holy, and full of potential and promise. As each petal opens beneath His love, it will reveal what no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor entered into the heart of man, things which His Father has prepared for those who love Him (see 1Cor 2:9).

The darkness surrounding the rose only makes His righteousness given to her stand in contrast to the lies, deceptions, wickedness, and destruction around her. Like a light in the darkness, she reveals who He is, bringing glory to the Triune God.

This rose embodies righteousness unearned, holiness unfathomed, and purity unattainable by human effort. He designed and created her for His glory and for eternity.

His fragrance wafts around her, and she whispers, Breathe on me, Breath of God. Fill me with life anew That I may love what Thou dost love, And do what Thou wouldst do. Breathe on me Breath of God, Until my heart is pure, Until with Thee I will one will, to do and to endure (Edwin Hatch 1878).

Creator whispers back, I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh (Eze 36:26). Oh, what comfort to know He transforms this rose from what she was into what she will be. His work, strength, and love accomplish what we cannot even imagine, much less do in our strength.

It was, On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, that Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” And with that, he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit” (Jhn 20:19-22).

Each delicately folded petal holds a promise to be revealed and celebrated for all eternity. So may this rosebud remind us to wait patiently until He comes for His own and transforms a black and white painting into living color for eternity. 

So, I needed to paint another rose—a glorious rose in full color as we shall become, multiplying in beauty and reproducing in number. Not an easy task that fell far short of “glorious.” In fact, after many hours of trying to paint the perfect, glorious rose, I gave up in defeat. Even my human determination could not win this time. So, I finished it up on a computer paint program and called it good. Just another redeemable lesson to remind me that all the self-effort in the world can never truly transform us. Only a miracle and the grace of God can make us new.

Nevertheless, you get the message as Paul tells us, I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God (Rom 12:1-2).

Each word in the preceding scripture begs us to embrace its powerful significance in our lives. God intends to move us from a black and white existence into a full-bodied relationship with Himself. He says, Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also (Jn 14:1-3).

Rejoice with me, dear ones. Stand up and lift up your heads because your redemption is drawing near! (Luk 21:28).

Unveiled Mystery

Mystery envelopes this painting, which holds much more than meets the eye. It began long ago when I salvaged an outdated Olan Mills Portrait from my husband’s employment. After I soaked and peeled off the paper, I covered the raw canvas with layers of white gesso.

Not wanting to waste anything, I saved the sludge from the bottom of my brush cleaning can and covered the white gesso with this neutral brown-gray paint. Once it dried, I added a layer of soft blue around the perimeter. Next, I randomly added flower-sized splotches of pink, yellow, white, purple, red, and orange, plus greenery.

After perusing painting books, I decided to transform those splotches into roses. Unfortunately, I never liked painting flowers because of the detailed precision required to make them believable. Yet, I took up the challenge to conquer my lack of confidence and inability. I did this for fun and practice, without any plan for an accompanying blog.

I asked God to help me visualize the structure of a rose and transfer it accurately onto the canvas. Layer after layer of imposed paint daubs created shadows and highlights, creating the appearance of 3-D roses. My trembling hands scoffed at my attempts to work on the details, yet, determination won. Then the background took form, and joy rewarded my hard work.

I recently realized I’m more of an illustrator, which means the illustration needs to emerge from a story, not the other way around. Now, what spiritual encouragement could I glean from a bouquet of roses? I wasn’t even sure about the result—was it too colorful? Maybe I should have made them all the same color. Why did I paint so many instead of just a few? I berated myself for being such an over-achiever.

Finally, I offered it to the Lord and said, “I want this painting to glorify You and encourage people. What do You want me to do now? What is the analogy, the mystery behind these roughly painted flowers?”

I could almost hear Him laugh. Nothing is too hard for Him, not even analogies for amateur artists. I knew He remained with me throughout the process. He held my hands for the details and stilled my shaking brush once it touched the canvas. He kept my phone steady enough to center and not blur the photo. Then He quietly revealed its mystery, one thought at a time. 

First of all, I know God redeems our past. He does not waste anything and uses the sludge of our sin to make us aware of our need for a Savior. “(The LORD) who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion (Psa 103:4).

Next, I sent a photo of the roses to my granddaughter, Anna, and asked her to give me her first impressions. She insightfully wrote back, “My first impression of the roses was one of how beautiful different colors and types of roses can be together, just like a mix of people from different backgrounds and stories can make a beautiful community of friends and family.” 

Oh, she is so right. We are God’s bouquet—all different colors, and each one is as valuable as the next. Though we are all still “in the rough,” God promised to continue and complete His work in us. He is the Redeemer who not only redeems my paintings but His children. Like each rose, each life is a masterpiece of His design and purpose. He promised to use all the circumstances of our lives to conform us to the beautiful image of His son (see Rom 8: 28-29). And He created each of His blood-bought children to reflect the Master’s heart of love and grace.

As we hang paintings on our walls for others to enjoy, God makes us visible to the whole universe of angels and human beings (see 1Co 4:9). Paul writes, “…it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose… ‘children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.’ Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky” (Phl 2:12-15).

Not only are we on display to the whole universe, but we, like roses, symbolize God’s love in the world. Just as white roses mean purity and holiness, God calls us to live in purity and holiness. Red roses mean passion and sacrifice, which speak of His passionate love and sacrifice for us. As yellow roses mean wisdom and joy, Jesus is our wisdom, and the joy of the Lord is our strength. Pink roses mean gratitude and peace, while we express gratitude to the Lord for His peace that guards our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, purple or lavender roses mean wonder, awe, and change for the better. Is that not precisely our response to our Almighty God, who reconciles us to Himself and transforms us into the image of His Son?

In the Song of Solomon, the rose of Sharon symbolizes the beauty of King Solomon’s lover. Our eternal Bridegroom also sees us, His Church, as His beautiful Bride. Receiving His love, she confidently says, “I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys” (Sol 2:1). 

Michael Bradley writes, “Nowhere in the New Testament is Jesus actually referred to as the rose of Sharon. However, He is symbolically referred to as the rose of Sharon by many. The rose is considered the most ‘perfect’ of all flowers. Jesus is totally perfect in His nature and personality. [Through Jesus] God is trying to tell us of the personal love relationship He wants to establish with each and every one of us.”

The mystery in this painting of roses unveils our unique part in God’s beloved bouquet. Jesus is the perfect rose given to us by the Father to reconcile us to Himself. Each petal gradually opens to symbolize the unfolding spiritual wisdom we gain daily as we follow Him. Together, we form God’s masterpiece to reveal Him in a dark and unbelieving world.

This 1912 hymn by Charles Austin Miles expresses the relationship God has always wanted with His children—intensely personal, loving, conversing, and joyful.

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.