Andrew Wyeth Reminds Me of God

I love the amazing and profoundly unique, Andrew Wyeth. Though he died only a few years ago, his presence will always be palpable to those of us who love his paintings and who grew up driving the same roads and observing the same landscapes.

Muted colors characterize his style and the faces of those he paints are captured and recorded forever. It’s as close as I will ever be to Christina Olson and Karl Kuerner. Andrew loved to sit with these friends, talk to them, know them, enjoy their company and in the meantime, preserve the beauty of their souls in a two-dimensional masterpiece.



What is most intriguing about Wyeth is that in many ways he was elusive and impossible to capture. Yet somehow he was unparalleled at taking the mystery of the most ordinary people and capturing their lives with a pose, a paintbrush and a series of sketches. The wrinkles by their eyes, a furrowed brow, the expressions that speak of a hard lived life, the tattered clothes, the sullen stares and the simple rooms in simple homes...

He saw everything. He noticed what the average man would never see. Andrew’s gaze automatically observed a curtain blowing just so, water dripping from a tipped, tin bucket, a strand of wheat pointed a certain way and a drift of snow on a rolling Pennsylvania hill. He, himself, said he could live another 40 lifetimes in Brandywine, PA and never exhaust its beauty. I envy such a mind. To see, to genuinely see beyond what seems so simple and to eventually unveil something so grand. I consider life this way; I think of the glory of God this way. Day upon day passes and we miss the miracles of beauty, the scattered about symbols of His presence. We look right over top the most profound examples of God’s markings and the affirmation of His goodness. Andrew Wyeth saw mystery and striking beauty in the common things. Sounds just like God...He dresses the fields with simple flowers, takes notice of the most regular birds;He picked unschooled men, and described Himself as a Shepherd and His Word as a little seed...

In our hectic, running, spinning lives, we miss Him all the time. We ache for Him and verbalize the frustration that our God appears distant and removed from His people. But we are too distracted to see.  Yet Andrew, and his father before him, took note of hidden treasures and shaped the most priceless paintings from dusty attics, and cold, drab kitchens, making masterpieces out of objects we wander right by. Maybe the God of the universe is concealed in the common. Just maybe the glimpses of Himself will come where we are just not looking. Apparently He is not in the glitter and gold. That was never His mode of entry.

Evening at the Kuerners, one of my favorites.








(Thanks Christina for encouraging me to write when not inspired...)

Jesus Sits in the Passenger's Seat of My Car

The grand piano in our living room was set in front of a huge picture window looking out over the woods behind our house. It was always quiet in there and the sun made it so warm in the winter.  The furniture blocked off the piano so that I could hide between the back of our couch and the window. No one knew I was there and I would sit down, lean against the back of the couch, cross my legs under the piano bench and look out the picture window. The truth is, I wasn’t just being introverted. I wasn’t trying to hide. I was meeting Jesus. In my mind’s eye, I had Him sitting on the floor across from me, leaning up against the window, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a tattered, red baseball hat. Strange, but true. This was the time Jesus became so real to me. These “visits” taught me how to engage Him, be honest with Him and relate with Him like I did a tangible person.

A friend of mine was recently telling me about how much she is learning concerning Jesus and His divine power. We marvel together at His authority over the entire universe and find it fascinating that angels attend Him and do His bidding. His position is that of King and His glorious presence cannot be contained. So I’m not sure about the reverence of the jeans and t-shirt. Here is what I have realized over these years of learning to relate to an invisible, holy, personal God. In order to be able to approach Him, bear my honest heartache and joy to Him...in order to simply talk to Him, I must know Him as friend. He told the disciples that He no longer called them servants, but rather friends. The King, on the throne, whose robe fills them temple is high and holy. I have found that I must know Him as a friend in order to approach Him with confidence in His position as King. I must be humbled, aware of His might and glory, while also knowing I will not be dismissed, destroyed or condemned.

My imagination has been quite a help to me at times, especially when it comes to relating to Jesus. There are days when I’m driving along, and I glance over, picturing Jesus in the passenger’s seat, strapped in, with me. Out loud, I’ll explain how I feel, what I am stressed about or how grateful I am for such and such. I tell myself, “Either you are certifiably crazy, or someone actually hears you.” That’s how it is when you talk out loud in your car, by yourself. One day last week, I needed to talk to Him. I peered over and jumbled on my passenger’s seat were snacks, a sweater, a purse, a messenger bag and a water bottle.  It was chaos, and I thought to myself, “Whew, that looks a bit like my life right now.” Strange, I know, but for a second I thought Jesus wouldn’t be able to sit there with all my mess of stuff. I smiled, catching myself confused between reality and imagination. But a thought spun through my mind reminding me that Jesus has no problem bringing the two together, “You know I can sit here and hold all this stuff...”

In His supernatural wisdom, this was the ideal response to my odd little situation, and a perfect picture for me. All that mess, confusion and chaos...He can hold it, and gladly He does. Every once in awhile my life collects stacks of burdens and bag-fulls of despair. Strangely these can feel more real than God Himself. If I am not careful, they take over my view and I begin to think they squeeze Him out of range. But He is strong and organized. He not only holds it all for me, He replaces it with Himself, His peace, His truth, His goodness and His hope.

One thing is for sure, I would most certainly rather HIM sit next to me than a pile of tangled worries.