ABOUT THIS EXHIBIT
In late 2024 & early 2025, I was invited by my church (Christ Community) and Joe Gebhardt from our partner church, Projekt:Kirche to create a series of works inspired by the theme of Paradise. The aim of this work was to encourage their community & their church in Friedrichshain, Berlin. Over the summer, they preached a series of sermons on Paradise that were informed by the artwork and the community.
Learn more about the project here.
Learn more about the project here.
For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I will know fully, as I am fully known. Now these three remain: faith, hope, and love—but the greatest of these is love.
-1 Corinthians 13:12-13
-1 Corinthians 13:12-13
These verses from 1 Corinthians 13 are part of a text that is often read at weddings, since they convey the importance of the virtue of love. But for me, these verses speak to something much deeper and more radical than the notion of romantic love, and they became the grounding verses for this small collection of paintings inspired by the idea of Paradise.
I believe that Paradise is not simply a place where sorrow and suffering are forever eradicated and where hope, beauty, and goodness reign forevermore. I believe that Paradise is also available only in the presence of a particular person—Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah. It is through him we are able to begin the process of drawing closer to being face to face with God, being seen to the deepest depths of who we are, deeper even than we know ourselves, and loved fully in a way that transforms our experience of reality so completely that it can begin to bring paradise into the present moment.
The concept of heaven can bring a lot of baggage with it for many people who have had negative experiences of the church. I know it did for me, for many years. When people shared their faith with me when I was younger, it was often framed with an argument that was fear-based and tended to go something like this, “You had better accept Jesus, or you will go to hell.” That message did not feel loving, transformative, or helpful. It felt like fear-mongering. Later in life, I encountered Jesus, and when I began to see what he had actually done in his earthly ministry, and more intimately, what he had done for me, I fell in love.
That love has begun the process of transforming me, my relationships, and the way I experience life in this world. I have been a Christian for around thirteen years, and in those years, my suffering and struggle in this world have only intensified as they often do with age. And yet, the joy and wonder and beauty I have experienced have deepened beyond my imagination’s wildest desires. Somehow, these present sufferings are transmuted into something else, in brief moments or for whole seasons. “Something else” often looks like joy in the midst of sorrow, deep places of empathy and knowing with my fellow humans who I can support in ways I would never have been able to without such personal experiences of suffering, and a closeness to Jesus in his own suffering that is a gift I could never receive through a painless and self-fulfilled existence.
And so I am thankful for Jesus, and his love for me and all of creation, which gave him the strength to suffer unimaginably on our behalf. And I am thankful that Jesus was not just a man, but God in flesh, and that his suffering was not meaningless, but so transformative in its power that a wilderness as bleak as the grave is itself transformed into a lush paradise garden where we will live in the presence of love forever. In that place we will be seen, loved, and known at such unimaginable depths that shame and sorrow will be cast into the depths of the sea, never to be seen again.
I believe that Paradise is not simply a place where sorrow and suffering are forever eradicated and where hope, beauty, and goodness reign forevermore. I believe that Paradise is also available only in the presence of a particular person—Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah. It is through him we are able to begin the process of drawing closer to being face to face with God, being seen to the deepest depths of who we are, deeper even than we know ourselves, and loved fully in a way that transforms our experience of reality so completely that it can begin to bring paradise into the present moment.
The concept of heaven can bring a lot of baggage with it for many people who have had negative experiences of the church. I know it did for me, for many years. When people shared their faith with me when I was younger, it was often framed with an argument that was fear-based and tended to go something like this, “You had better accept Jesus, or you will go to hell.” That message did not feel loving, transformative, or helpful. It felt like fear-mongering. Later in life, I encountered Jesus, and when I began to see what he had actually done in his earthly ministry, and more intimately, what he had done for me, I fell in love.
That love has begun the process of transforming me, my relationships, and the way I experience life in this world. I have been a Christian for around thirteen years, and in those years, my suffering and struggle in this world have only intensified as they often do with age. And yet, the joy and wonder and beauty I have experienced have deepened beyond my imagination’s wildest desires. Somehow, these present sufferings are transmuted into something else, in brief moments or for whole seasons. “Something else” often looks like joy in the midst of sorrow, deep places of empathy and knowing with my fellow humans who I can support in ways I would never have been able to without such personal experiences of suffering, and a closeness to Jesus in his own suffering that is a gift I could never receive through a painless and self-fulfilled existence.
And so I am thankful for Jesus, and his love for me and all of creation, which gave him the strength to suffer unimaginably on our behalf. And I am thankful that Jesus was not just a man, but God in flesh, and that his suffering was not meaningless, but so transformative in its power that a wilderness as bleak as the grave is itself transformed into a lush paradise garden where we will live in the presence of love forever. In that place we will be seen, loved, and known at such unimaginable depths that shame and sorrow will be cast into the depths of the sea, never to be seen again.
I. ALL CREATION WILL BE TRANSFORMED BY LONGING AND JOY
Longing is one of the vital aspects of human experience. We long for joy, purpose, justice, love, beauty, and for these things to last forever. Longing is one of the primary experiences that changed me from a skeptic to a person who believes. My whole life, I’ve been filled with longing for experiences of beauty because of the profound transcendence and depth of truth I found there. In the presence of a great work of music or art, I couldn’t deny the existence of something greater than all of humanity.
I came to a turning point years ago when I realized that all earthly beauty is slowly passing away and just a shadow of the real thing that waits behind the veil of the unknown region beyond this life. I realized I was longing not just for beauty, but for God. I was even more stunned to learn that God longs for me as I long for him, and that, like the father in Luke 15, he had been waiting expectantly for me to come home. He has inaugurated the process of fulfilling all his promises to humanity, and he will freely pardon all our shortcomings, if only we will come into his presence, home at last. One day, all our thirsts will be slaked, and all creation will be saturated with an everlasting joy.
I came to a turning point years ago when I realized that all earthly beauty is slowly passing away and just a shadow of the real thing that waits behind the veil of the unknown region beyond this life. I realized I was longing not just for beauty, but for God. I was even more stunned to learn that God longs for me as I long for him, and that, like the father in Luke 15, he had been waiting expectantly for me to come home. He has inaugurated the process of fulfilling all his promises to humanity, and he will freely pardon all our shortcomings, if only we will come into his presence, home at last. One day, all our thirsts will be slaked, and all creation will be saturated with an everlasting joy.
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Come, all who are thirsty / Wohlan, alle, die ihr durstig seid
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“Come, everyone who is thirsty,
come to the water; and you without silver, come, buy, and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without silver and without cost! Why do you spend silver on what is not food, and your wages on what does not satisfy?" –Isaiah 55:1-2 • this work has sold |
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The mountains and hills will burst into song before you / Berge und Hügel sollen vor euch her frohlocken10x10"
For just as rain and snow fall from heaven
and do not return there without saturating the earth and making it germinate and sprout, and providing seed to sow and food to eat, so my word that comes from my mouth will not return to me empty, but it will accomplish what I please and will prosper in what I send it to do.” You will indeed go out with joy and be peacefully guided; the mountains and the hills will break into singing before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. 13 Instead of the thornbush, a cypress will come up, and instead of the brier, a myrtle will come up; this will stand as a monument for the Lord, an everlasting sign that will not be destroyed. –Isaiah 55:10-13 • this work has sold |
III. FOUR MEDITATIONS ON PARADISE
Paradise can begin in the wilderness
Streams in the desert / Ströme im dürren Lande
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The wilderness and the dry land will be glad; the desert will rejoice and blossom like a wildflower. It will blossom abundantly and will also rejoice with joy and singing. … Then the eyes of the blind will be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then the lame will leap like a deer, and the tongue of the mute will sing for joy, for water will gush in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the parched ground will become a pool, and the thirsty land, springs. –Isaiah 35:1-2, 5-7 |
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It’s tempting to think Paradise is made up only of lush gardens and that we must seek out such places of abundance in order to experience the beauty and transformative presence of God. Another prevalent viewpoint is that we have to wait until long after we die for relief—one day, all this material world will not matter anymore, and so this worldly experience is insignificant. Neither are fully true. Many of us have experiences during our lives that are far from easy, comfortable, or good. Instead, we find ourselves in the midst of a hostile and desolate landscape, emotionally, spiritually, relationally, and physically, and these experiences can make God feel far away. It is only natural that we might wonder how a good God could allow such suffering. We may also be tempted to deny the importance of such experiences since one day all things will be magically fixed, and we can fall victim to spiritualizing, trivializing, or denying our pain, robbing it of its formative powers for good or evil on our immortal soul.
Isaiah 35 paints a vision of a future Paradise that starts in the wilderness. This is vital to grasp: God’s people don’t have to escape the desolate place in which they find themselves in order to begin to experience bits of heaven. God brings life to that wilderness and into their particular, localized suffering, and he makes it a place where his people can begin to experience his presence and transformation. What must he be like that he makes even the desolate landscape into a lush garden, into a place where sorrow can no longer thrive and is overtaken by joy? When we consider Jesus’ passion, this image makes sense. It is on this road of sorrow that the Son of Man walked where these crocuses began to bloom, watered by his tears. It is through his wounds we are healed. And our passages through the wilderness are not just highways toward our joy, they are paths of formation where we get to be closer to him and his experience, being seen and known fully in our suffering, because Jesus suffered, too. And we can hope in the midst of that suffering, because the road does not end in a final death, but a promised resurrection and final renewal of all things.
Isaiah 35 paints a vision of a future Paradise that starts in the wilderness. This is vital to grasp: God’s people don’t have to escape the desolate place in which they find themselves in order to begin to experience bits of heaven. God brings life to that wilderness and into their particular, localized suffering, and he makes it a place where his people can begin to experience his presence and transformation. What must he be like that he makes even the desolate landscape into a lush garden, into a place where sorrow can no longer thrive and is overtaken by joy? When we consider Jesus’ passion, this image makes sense. It is on this road of sorrow that the Son of Man walked where these crocuses began to bloom, watered by his tears. It is through his wounds we are healed. And our passages through the wilderness are not just highways toward our joy, they are paths of formation where we get to be closer to him and his experience, being seen and known fully in our suffering, because Jesus suffered, too. And we can hope in the midst of that suffering, because the road does not end in a final death, but a promised resurrection and final renewal of all things.
Paradise is to be face to face with Love
Face to Face / Von Angesicht zu Angesich
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For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I will know fully, as I am fully known. Now these three remain: faith, hope, and love—but the greatest of these is love.
—1 Corinthians 13:12-13 • this work has sold |
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I have not always been a believer. But something about the Christian faith that captivated me when I finally had eyes to see it was this: the depths where God sees me and all my secrets (Psalm 139), all the reasons why I am who I am and everything I’ve done and left undone, have not caused him to turn his face away from me. In fact, the polar opposite is true. Jesus has given me evidence that I am loved so overwhelmingly completely in that place of full relational nakedness that I was worth dying for. If you are reading this, he sees you, too, all the way down to the deepest depths, and he loves and accepts you in ways that you cannot possibly find within yourself or any other human being in its fullest scope. And that love, while it was costly for Jesus, is freely offered to you.
That kind of love, if we receive it with open arms, is what makes it possible for all creation to be made new, because all our shame and confusion and sin cannot exist in the face of such a burning force of beauty and goodness. And when those things have been transformed into glory and clarity and holiness by God’s power (not our own), I believe with every cell in my body that we will be able to transmute the love given to us into a force that we can bestow upon our fellow humans and all of the created world, and there will be no substance down to the smallest subatomic particles that will not be transformed by it.
That kind of love, if we receive it with open arms, is what makes it possible for all creation to be made new, because all our shame and confusion and sin cannot exist in the face of such a burning force of beauty and goodness. And when those things have been transformed into glory and clarity and holiness by God’s power (not our own), I believe with every cell in my body that we will be able to transmute the love given to us into a force that we can bestow upon our fellow humans and all of the created world, and there will be no substance down to the smallest subatomic particles that will not be transformed by it.
We invest now in a future that cannot be destroyed or taken away
From Everlasting to Everlasting / Von Ewigkeit zu Ewigkeit22x28"
But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves don’t break in and steal.
—Matthew 6:20 Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord shines over you. For look, darkness will cover the earth, and total darkness the peoples; but the Lord will shine over you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations will come to your light, and kings to your shining brightness. —Isaiah 60:1-3 Meanwhile, Moses was shepherding the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian. He led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. Then the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire within a bush. As Moses looked, he saw that the bush was on fire but was not consumed. So Moses thought, “I must go over and look at this remarkable sight. Why isn’t the bush burning up?” —Exodus 3:1-3 |
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• this work has sold
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Therefore we do not give up. Even though our outer person is being destroyed, our inner person is being renewed day by day. For our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory. So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
—2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Many of us have doubts or questions about God, but they often feel like background noise—something we should deal with tomorrow (if ever). We are often distracted by the material world that is right in front of us, ignoring the unseen realm, which is as real and important as physical matter. For all that is uncertain or intangible in life, we do have certainty that we will all one day die, and our earthly life will end—all this incessant activity and material of our everyday life will not be something we can take with us. As Friedrich Schiller says in his poem, Nänie, “even beauty must perish…behold!...the gods weep, the goddesses weep, that the beautiful perishes, that the perfect must pass away.”
And yet, it says in Hebrews 13: for here, we have no enduring city, but we seek one to come. Isaiah 60 paints a portrait of that enduring city. Later, in 1 Corinthians 15:51-55, Paul imagines our finite bodies being made infinite:
Listen, I am telling you a mystery: We will not all fall asleep, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we will be changed. For this corruptible body must be clothed with incorruptibility, and this mortal body must be clothed with immortality. When this corruptible body is clothed with incorruptibility, and this mortal body is clothed with immortality, then the saying that is written will take place:
Death has been swallowed up in victory.
Where, death, is your victory?
Where, death, is your sting?
Matthew 6:20 reminds us that all will experience the resurrection of the dead, and there will be certain things we carry with us into eternity. This life does matter, and though this present moment is passing away, there are investments we make now that are eternal. Scripture shows us that these investments are collective and relational (involving cities), and they are personal and physical (involving individual bodies which are united to immortal souls). The shortness of this statement from Jesus is provocative, and it invites us all to ask ourselves what lasts into eternity when we consider all the thousands of mundane choices we face each and every day.
When you look at your life and all that is important to you, what about it will you be able to carry with you beyond the veil? What forms you and your soul daily, in small or big ways? If each and every person carries what Paul calls an eternal weight of glory, what are you carrying, and how is it forming you and those around you?
—2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Many of us have doubts or questions about God, but they often feel like background noise—something we should deal with tomorrow (if ever). We are often distracted by the material world that is right in front of us, ignoring the unseen realm, which is as real and important as physical matter. For all that is uncertain or intangible in life, we do have certainty that we will all one day die, and our earthly life will end—all this incessant activity and material of our everyday life will not be something we can take with us. As Friedrich Schiller says in his poem, Nänie, “even beauty must perish…behold!...the gods weep, the goddesses weep, that the beautiful perishes, that the perfect must pass away.”
And yet, it says in Hebrews 13: for here, we have no enduring city, but we seek one to come. Isaiah 60 paints a portrait of that enduring city. Later, in 1 Corinthians 15:51-55, Paul imagines our finite bodies being made infinite:
Listen, I am telling you a mystery: We will not all fall asleep, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we will be changed. For this corruptible body must be clothed with incorruptibility, and this mortal body must be clothed with immortality. When this corruptible body is clothed with incorruptibility, and this mortal body is clothed with immortality, then the saying that is written will take place:
Death has been swallowed up in victory.
Where, death, is your victory?
Where, death, is your sting?
Matthew 6:20 reminds us that all will experience the resurrection of the dead, and there will be certain things we carry with us into eternity. This life does matter, and though this present moment is passing away, there are investments we make now that are eternal. Scripture shows us that these investments are collective and relational (involving cities), and they are personal and physical (involving individual bodies which are united to immortal souls). The shortness of this statement from Jesus is provocative, and it invites us all to ask ourselves what lasts into eternity when we consider all the thousands of mundane choices we face each and every day.
When you look at your life and all that is important to you, what about it will you be able to carry with you beyond the veil? What forms you and your soul daily, in small or big ways? If each and every person carries what Paul calls an eternal weight of glory, what are you carrying, and how is it forming you and those around you?
Longing for the Presence of God, Finding Home, and the Transmutation of Sorrow into Joy
Valley of Tears, Valley of Spring / Tal der Tränen, Tal des Frühlings
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Psalm 84
How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord of Armies. I long and yearn for the courts of the Lord; my heart and flesh cry out for the living God. Even a sparrow finds a home, and a swallow, a nest for herself where she places her young-- near your altars, Lord of Armies, my King and my God. How happy are those who reside in your house, who praise you continually. Selah Happy are the people whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baca, they make it a source of spring water; even the autumn rain will cover it with blessings. They go from strength to strength; each appears before God in Zion. Lord God of Armies, hear my prayer; listen, God of Jacob. Selah Consider our shield, God; look on the face of your anointed one. Better a day in your courts than a thousand anywhere else. I would rather stand at the threshold of the house of my God than live in the tents of wicked people. For the Lord God is a sun and shield. The Lord grants favor and honor; he does not withhold the good from those who live with integrity. Happy is the person who trusts in you, Lord of Armies! |
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I didn’t plan to illuminate this text when I started this project, but I was working on another of the paintings late one night and listening to sacred choral music as I often do, when a song by contemporary composer Caroline Shaw came up at random after I finished another album. I immediately recognized the words of Psalm 84, and I was so emotionally affected by the song I listened to it on repeat all day the next day during my studio time.
As I listened, I realized I had never given much (if any) notice to the second and third parts of this very familiar Psalm; I had over-simplified it thematically and thought it was only about longing for God’s temple and worship. I hadn’t noticed the image of birds that build their nests in the tabernacle, seeking a safe place to raise their young. I’ve been in a season of intense grief and loss and my longing for rest, peace, and fullness in the presence of Gods hit me hard and I just stood weeping tears of joy and longing at my painting table.
As I listened to the beautiful voices and God’s word, I realized my heart grew the most tender when I listened to them singing about the Valley of Baca, or Valley of Tears, and the way that in their wanderings, God’s people pass through the valley and “make it a place of spring.” Translations of this Psalm vary pretty widely, but it seems there is a consensus at least that some kind of transformative provision is happening in this valley of sorrow, whether it’s through the autumn rain softening the earth and making the land pliable or making possible the digging of a well. Presumably, in the valley of tears, the groundwater comes in some poetic way from the sorrow itself—imagine that for a moment! I could take a long detour here into the way that Jesus’ Passion, his valley of tears, digs an everlasting well from which we are able to drink eternal life.
In some sense, I think that no matter our worldview, there is some kind of agreement among human beings that we long for something beyond ourselves-–and many of us are striving for experiences to fill that desire for belonging, for completion, for home and fulfillment. This longing is a gift, for if we were satisfied fully in the things of the world, leading an existence free from sorrow, would we look outside ourselves and our own experience? That longing has the ability to drive us into God’s presence, the only home we’ll ever have that is eternal and unchanging.
As I listened, I realized I had never given much (if any) notice to the second and third parts of this very familiar Psalm; I had over-simplified it thematically and thought it was only about longing for God’s temple and worship. I hadn’t noticed the image of birds that build their nests in the tabernacle, seeking a safe place to raise their young. I’ve been in a season of intense grief and loss and my longing for rest, peace, and fullness in the presence of Gods hit me hard and I just stood weeping tears of joy and longing at my painting table.
As I listened to the beautiful voices and God’s word, I realized my heart grew the most tender when I listened to them singing about the Valley of Baca, or Valley of Tears, and the way that in their wanderings, God’s people pass through the valley and “make it a place of spring.” Translations of this Psalm vary pretty widely, but it seems there is a consensus at least that some kind of transformative provision is happening in this valley of sorrow, whether it’s through the autumn rain softening the earth and making the land pliable or making possible the digging of a well. Presumably, in the valley of tears, the groundwater comes in some poetic way from the sorrow itself—imagine that for a moment! I could take a long detour here into the way that Jesus’ Passion, his valley of tears, digs an everlasting well from which we are able to drink eternal life.
In some sense, I think that no matter our worldview, there is some kind of agreement among human beings that we long for something beyond ourselves-–and many of us are striving for experiences to fill that desire for belonging, for completion, for home and fulfillment. This longing is a gift, for if we were satisfied fully in the things of the world, leading an existence free from sorrow, would we look outside ourselves and our own experience? That longing has the ability to drive us into God’s presence, the only home we’ll ever have that is eternal and unchanging.
III. FOUR PARABLES FROM MATTHEW 13: THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN
Paradise begins now. If there were a single, short way for me to sum up what I wanted to say with all this work, it’s probably that. And Paradise is not just a place, but a person—Jesus—and he comes to the world at present through us, at least in part. How incredible that we serve a God who has always wanted to partner with us.
Jesus placed a lot of emphasis on parables in his teaching, so that we might have eyes to see his Kingdom coming around us. I love reading the nineteenth century Scottish preacher Alexander MacLaren’s writings on scripture, and he says of the Kingdom of God and parables:
Suffice it to say that [the Kingdom of Heaven] means, in the most general terms, a state or order of things in which God is King, and His will is supreme and sovereign. Christ came, as He tells us, to found and to extend that kingdom upon earth. A man can go into it, and it can come into a man, and the conditions on which he enters into it, and it into him, are laid down in [the parables].
I’d argue that the conception of the Kingdom of Heaven should be inseparable from our conception of Paradise. I don’t think paradise will be our personal idea of perfection, or a better version of whatever pleases us or brings us pleasure. Paradise is first a product of God’s imagination. It is a place that is designed and held together by God’s wisdom. And so we should seek to be wise in the ways of God. Parables are deceptively complex and wonderful ways to remind us that we are part of this story, and there’s always an invitation to us in God’s word. We aren’t mere observers, or people who idly imagine a future paradise–instead, we are participants in the story.
Each of these short parables seem to ask: are you listening? Are you willing to look deep into these images that Jesus is laying before you? What do you see? How will you respond?
Jesus placed a lot of emphasis on parables in his teaching, so that we might have eyes to see his Kingdom coming around us. I love reading the nineteenth century Scottish preacher Alexander MacLaren’s writings on scripture, and he says of the Kingdom of God and parables:
Suffice it to say that [the Kingdom of Heaven] means, in the most general terms, a state or order of things in which God is King, and His will is supreme and sovereign. Christ came, as He tells us, to found and to extend that kingdom upon earth. A man can go into it, and it can come into a man, and the conditions on which he enters into it, and it into him, are laid down in [the parables].
I’d argue that the conception of the Kingdom of Heaven should be inseparable from our conception of Paradise. I don’t think paradise will be our personal idea of perfection, or a better version of whatever pleases us or brings us pleasure. Paradise is first a product of God’s imagination. It is a place that is designed and held together by God’s wisdom. And so we should seek to be wise in the ways of God. Parables are deceptively complex and wonderful ways to remind us that we are part of this story, and there’s always an invitation to us in God’s word. We aren’t mere observers, or people who idly imagine a future paradise–instead, we are participants in the story.
Each of these short parables seem to ask: are you listening? Are you willing to look deep into these images that Jesus is laying before you? What do you see? How will you respond?
The Mustard Seed / The Kingdom of Heaven is very small, but is grander and sprawls more expansively than you can imagine
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Your faith nourishes the world / Dein Glaube nährt die Welt
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The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It’s the smallest of all the seeds, but when grown, it’s taller than the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the sky come and nest in its branches. —Matthew 13:31-32
• this work has sold |
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We all have “mustard seed” moments in our stories – things that seem small and insignificant but that are in fact evidence of God’s powerful and pervasive work in our lives. The parable of the mustard seed is closely related to the leaven, as they are presented in a pair. There are also many moments for each of us where we cannot seem to see God at work; we are looking for something big and transformative when God is providing something tiny and full of potential. Do we have eyes to see the tiny seeds, or are we only willing to accept grand gestures?
I love the image of the mustard seed as a garden plant that sprawls so large it is compared to a tree—and the birds of the field build a home in their branches! This artifact of faith, of God’s work in the world, has grown into a home for someone else.
My good friend, the artist Emily Cramer, made a whole exhibit about the way that our personal faith stories have a deep impact on others. Our stories of radical provision, transformation, and even the practice of watching for unexpected manifestations of God’s redeeming work in the world are like food for our friends and family, drawing their gaze, piquing their curiosity, and perhaps providing a life-sustaining meal.
This kind of nourishing, transforming work is a part of Paradise breaking into this world. And all it requires of us is faith.
I love the image of the mustard seed as a garden plant that sprawls so large it is compared to a tree—and the birds of the field build a home in their branches! This artifact of faith, of God’s work in the world, has grown into a home for someone else.
My good friend, the artist Emily Cramer, made a whole exhibit about the way that our personal faith stories have a deep impact on others. Our stories of radical provision, transformation, and even the practice of watching for unexpected manifestations of God’s redeeming work in the world are like food for our friends and family, drawing their gaze, piquing their curiosity, and perhaps providing a life-sustaining meal.
This kind of nourishing, transforming work is a part of Paradise breaking into this world. And all it requires of us is faith.
The Pearl of Great Price / The Kingdom of Heaven is precious, but costly, and it is not in all things, but one person
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The Many and The One / Die Vielen und Der Eine
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Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls. When he found one priceless pearl, he went and sold everything he had and bought it. —Matthew 13:45-46
“I advise you to buy from me gold refined in the fire so that you may be rich.” –Revelation 3:18 |
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When God calls you into his presence—into the beginnings of Paradise—how will you answer? Many of us travel through life searching for beauty, for precious riches (experiences, wealth, families, and success). What if, like when Jesus called Peter, James, and John, he asks you to leave it all behind and follow him, to literally or figuratively ‘sell it all’ so you can acquire the one treasure that matters most?
I know that this part of the faith journey hasn’t always been easy for me. There are old patterns and crutches I’ve relied on to provide relief or comfort in the midst of suffering, but they’re inadequate solutions. There are treasures I have sought after that are beautiful and good, but they are not the one source of ultimate beauty, the only thing that can answer my longing. I love these words from Alexander MacLaren:
"Dear [friends], if you have been smitten by the desire to live noble lives, if you have been roused
'To follow knowledge, like a sinking star,
Beyond the furthest bounds of human thought,'
or if in any way you are going through the world with your eyes…seeking for the many pearls, I beseech you to lay this truth to heart, that you will never find what you seek, until you understand that the many have not it to give you, and that the One has."
I know that this part of the faith journey hasn’t always been easy for me. There are old patterns and crutches I’ve relied on to provide relief or comfort in the midst of suffering, but they’re inadequate solutions. There are treasures I have sought after that are beautiful and good, but they are not the one source of ultimate beauty, the only thing that can answer my longing. I love these words from Alexander MacLaren:
"Dear [friends], if you have been smitten by the desire to live noble lives, if you have been roused
'To follow knowledge, like a sinking star,
Beyond the furthest bounds of human thought,'
or if in any way you are going through the world with your eyes…seeking for the many pearls, I beseech you to lay this truth to heart, that you will never find what you seek, until you understand that the many have not it to give you, and that the One has."
The Hidden Treasure / You may find the Kingdom of Heaven when you aren’t looking for it
The man who found the treasure in the field in this parable had likely walked that path many times before, and he was likely not looking for it (unlike the man who searched for the pearl). Though their method of finding it is different, their response is the same.
Peter was called in a different way than Paul, who was not looking as he walked down the road to Damascus, when he stumbled upon the treasure of being called by God, and rather than ignoring it, he gave up everything to follow Jesus into eternal life.
Sometimes the treasure is blinding, sometimes it is a mere sparkle, but the Holy Spirit gives us eyes to see and ears to hear the call. What will your answer be?
Peter was called in a different way than Paul, who was not looking as he walked down the road to Damascus, when he stumbled upon the treasure of being called by God, and rather than ignoring it, he gave up everything to follow Jesus into eternal life.
Sometimes the treasure is blinding, sometimes it is a mere sparkle, but the Holy Spirit gives us eyes to see and ears to hear the call. What will your answer be?
The Leaven / The Kingdom of Heaven is subtle, hidden, and pervasive
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Hidden and Revealed / Versteckt und Enthüllt
16x16"
The kingdom of heaven is like leaven that a woman took and mixed into fifty pounds of flour until all of it was leavened. —Matthew 13:33
• this work has sold
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Alexander MacLaren, one of my favorite romantic era commentators, argues the parable of the leaven deals with “the inward, penetrating, diffusive influence of the kingdom, working as an assimilating and transforming force in the midst of society.”
The science of how yeast works in dough is quite interesting. First, it’s a fairly slow process. By its nature fermentation requires time and patience. The transformation is happening on a microscopic level; it’s hidden from the naked eye, though the later transformation is visible. This must mean that God works in hidden ways, slowly, and in ways that might seem unexpected or subversive.
Another requirement of leaven is contact—for the principle of the parable of the leaven to do its work, we can’t be afraid of sharing ourselves and our stories with others. If we avoid them, if we avoid talking about what we believe or consider faith a private matter only, we miss the opportunity to be leaven, each of us and the details of our lives slowly worked into the whole of the world and the fullness of the body of Christ. And eventually, it is all transformed from a lifeless lump to something that is living, alive, full of transformative potential.
Have you ever noticed a subtle change that seems to have happened overnight, but that actually took a long time to come to pass? For me, noticing dust around my house falls into this category. It often seems to me that it appears overnight! Instead, it has slowly accumulated until it captured my attention. It is tempting to think of Paradise as something that will come suddenly, after we die. It’s a place we go, something to hope in when we are miserable in our current life. You might also wonder, if Jesus says Paradise is available now, why don’t I suddenly feel different? Why isn’t my life suddenly in order, my depression gone, my bank account full, my body healed, my relationships whole? I have found a lot of comfort in this parable, imagining instead that Paradise is something that accumulates slowly, working slowly in hidden ways beneath the surface of my life. Some days, I’m acutely aware of God’s presence, and the beauty and fullness that’s available to me even in the midst of the worst suffering imaginable. Some days, it’s hard to see. Either way, God is at work, and I pray for the attentiveness to see him.
The science of how yeast works in dough is quite interesting. First, it’s a fairly slow process. By its nature fermentation requires time and patience. The transformation is happening on a microscopic level; it’s hidden from the naked eye, though the later transformation is visible. This must mean that God works in hidden ways, slowly, and in ways that might seem unexpected or subversive.
Another requirement of leaven is contact—for the principle of the parable of the leaven to do its work, we can’t be afraid of sharing ourselves and our stories with others. If we avoid them, if we avoid talking about what we believe or consider faith a private matter only, we miss the opportunity to be leaven, each of us and the details of our lives slowly worked into the whole of the world and the fullness of the body of Christ. And eventually, it is all transformed from a lifeless lump to something that is living, alive, full of transformative potential.
Have you ever noticed a subtle change that seems to have happened overnight, but that actually took a long time to come to pass? For me, noticing dust around my house falls into this category. It often seems to me that it appears overnight! Instead, it has slowly accumulated until it captured my attention. It is tempting to think of Paradise as something that will come suddenly, after we die. It’s a place we go, something to hope in when we are miserable in our current life. You might also wonder, if Jesus says Paradise is available now, why don’t I suddenly feel different? Why isn’t my life suddenly in order, my depression gone, my bank account full, my body healed, my relationships whole? I have found a lot of comfort in this parable, imagining instead that Paradise is something that accumulates slowly, working slowly in hidden ways beneath the surface of my life. Some days, I’m acutely aware of God’s presence, and the beauty and fullness that’s available to me even in the midst of the worst suffering imaginable. Some days, it’s hard to see. Either way, God is at work, and I pray for the attentiveness to see him.