Sure of All I Hope For

"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." Hebrews 11:1

The past few days have made me incredibly alive to the certainty of all that I cannot see.

On Thursday morning, the Nebraska Arts Council staff and I piled into a ginormous red 12 passenger van, with Suzanne, our fearless leader (and fearless driver) at the wheel. We were headed to Kansas City for a staff retreat. It was comical to be squeezed together throughout the trip, Suzanne making countless traffic blunders as she maneuvered the monster in ways that left me, a far less confident driver, in awe.

That afternoon we went to the Nelson-Atkins Museum Art, and it was one of the most fulfilling museum visits I've ever had because Suzanne gave us an assignment. I usually feel so overwhelmed in big museums, so it was nice to have a focus. I didn't see all of the art; but there was a lot more meaning to the art that I did see. After an official tour, we were set loose with camp stools and clipboards to reflect. One assignment involved color- we had to choose our favorite hue and find three pieces that used the color in different ways. My selections involved an effervescent sunset, a deep grief, and a crisp stroll in the winter.

We had to select one area of the museum to re-visit and reflect on, and I chose the area with the stained glass. I have so much respect for the artform because I had to create a stained glass piece in Art Forms I in high school and it was the most technically difficult art project I ever did. Stained glass is God-inspired- it requires His light for the piece to truly reach its full glory. And because of the religious content of the windows, it was so much more than just colored glass. The pieces had a radiance of truth about them.

My favorite assignment asked us to think about our skill sets and what attributes we bring to our individual jobs. We had to find a piece of art that best symbolized or personified this. I chose a painting of a woman at a piano, head bowed, sheet music in hand. She isn't actually playing. It's as though her head is bowed in reverence to the beauty of the art and the honor it is to be able to create it. The painting didn't speak to my skills, but to my passion. I'm in the arts because I see art as a profound way to shed light on God's kingdom on earth. The ultimate Creator. By creating we add to the beauty; by living life to the fullest in our relationships, community and our work, we also add beauty to the story around us and, whether we realize it or not, aid to usher in the kingdom here on earth.

Thursday night, then, we saw an amazing play depicting the likes of old movie stars like Orson Welles and Vivien Leigh. Yesterday we met some colleagues in the arts administration world, went shoe shopping (dangerous with a staff of nine women!), ate some extremely fancy chocolate, and headed back to O-town.

I was home about ten minutes before meeting friends to travel to Lincoln for an Andrew Peterson concert. As always, it was great. I always hear echoes of heaven in his music. He made us laugh, ponder and sing along. And once again I was reminded of the certainty of all that I do not see.