Picture for a moment your eyes fastened on a canvas. You are alone in a museum (the docent shut out every other visitor for you) sitting for hours. You cannot look away as you have been arrested by your perception and vision of what stares you in the face.
The nuances of color, light, shadowing, texture, tone, boldness, demureness, and simple awe have penetrated a place in you that you were never aware of. You see history, geography, lakes, oceans, streams, rivers, music, architecture, humor, labor, sweat, tears, laughter, blood, elation, pain, yet you cannot put your finger on any of it, but see perfectly all of it.
It is impossible for a human to conceive what stares you in the face. The evidence of a hand uncommon to man is irrefutable. You see in this painting the beginning of life, the beauty, the wars, the suffering, and you see hidden between the notes behind the rocks…..
…your life, in all it’s successes and failures, it’s light and darkness, your doubts and fears, your love and scorn which you thought were a secret. How is this even possible you ask as you rub your eyes hoping to awake, but it is no dream, as your conscience indicts you as you hate such beauty.
What looks like a dot smaller than a grain of sand reveals itself as all the achievements of man are unfolded in perfect order. You are ready to faint seeing all the so-called geniuses of the world as no better or worse than a thief or a prince. The works of Monet, Picasso, Dali, Rockwell, all sitting among heaps of scrap compared to a single raindrop. You cannot tolerate one more moment of such mental torture and unvarnished truth.
It looks like an Award winning video but nothing is moving. You wonder if anyone else has seen this, and if so, what have they seen? You still cannot look away as all perception of time is lost. You look at your watch. You have been enjoying that masterpiece for 67 years.
You look in the bottom right hand corner of the painting because you knew it was there. Yes. In ink. Your signature. Your name. And in that moment of unannounced honesty it hit you to your shame but delight because of the revelation of and to your self:
To deny life as the masterpiece planned and executed by Another, you have signed your name to his work, partaking in the greatest fraud known to man. You have denied the Master His own handiwork. You have made claim to a painting not your own.
Fortunately, He understands, as He so graciously gives you your next breath. Thank Him, and use it wisely.
(ps- to my atheist fan club, the simplicity of this post should prove most delicious to the hunger pangs of the intellect. Only God can satiate that. If life isn’t enough proof…….)