The Blank Canvas

God isn’t hard of hearing; he’ll hear all their cries. God isn’t blind. He who made the eye has superb vision, and he’s watching all you do. Psalm 94:9 TPT
“A picture is worth a thousand words.” This quote has been used and reused millions of times, is found in different languages, and is familiar to most people. Without a picture to illustrate the point, it has probably taken a few million words to unravel the meaning of these seven words.
Long before George Eastman launched the Kodak camera that revolutionized the “one picture is worth a thousand words” generation, itinerant painters roamed the countryside in search of the wealthy, influential leaders of the city. Those were the ones who could afford to have their portraits painted. These “folk artists” came with varying degrees of talent and abilities.
Early American poet and writer Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr, called these painters “Thugs of Art.” Holmes wrote, “Recollect those wandering Thugs of Art, whose murderous doings with the brush used frequently to involve whole families, who passed from one country tavern to another, eating and painting their way, feeding a week upon the landlord, another week upon the landlady, and two or three days apiece upon the children, as the walls of those hospitable edifices too frequently testify even to the present day.”
Regardless of Holmes’s criticism of these roving painters, they left a vivid picture of early American life. Their brushes captured the stories of life and personalities across the country. Few would be remembered as a Rembrandt, van Gogh, or Monet; yet their pictures were worth a thousand words. It is a different time since now we capture our stories with an iPhone. I have to be a master storyteller since my phone has over 19,415 pictures and another 1,341 video clips, mostly of grandchildren.
Time is the key to a portrait painter’s success as he or she strives to know who is in front of them. It requires multiple settings to identify the characteristics that should be captured on canvas. The painter needs to know his subjects, who they are, their character, and their passion. Edward Burne-Jones stated, “The only expression allowable in great portraiture is the expression of character and moral quality, not anything temporary, fleeting, or accidental.” Aristotle similarly said, “The aim of Art is to present not the outward appearance of things, but their inner significance, for this, not the external manner and detail, constitutes true reality.”
Sitting before God, the Master Portrait Painter, you realize how realistically He captures our picture. The Psalmist writes, “Lord, you know everything there is to know about me. You perceive every movement of my heart and soul, and you understand my every thought before it even enters my mind. You formed my innermost being, shaping my delicate inside and my intricate outside, and wove them all together in my mother’s womb.” (Psalm 139:1,2;13 TPT)
If you were sitting for your real-life portrait, what would he capture?
Hannah modeled brokenness before the painter as he captured her in prayer. “In her deep anguish Hannah prayed to the LORD, weeping bitterly.” (I Sam. 1:10) David modeled sorrow, “David pleaded with God for the child. He fasted and spent the nights lying in sackcloth on the ground.” (2 Sam. 12:16)
Susanna Wesley, mother of nineteen children, nine of whom died in infancy, endured a difficult marriage and primarily raised the other ten children single-handedly. Susanna was a world-class educator, prayer warrior, and she believed that Christ’s Great Commission to the nations began at home with her children. Two of her children, John and Wesley, would be used by God to spark a spiritual renewal.
“Whenever Susanna Wesley wanted to pray in her busy household with the demands of ten children, she simply pulled her apron over her head…Susanna’s children quickly learned that when her apron was over her head, their mother was not to be disturbed. In this unusual posture, she would pour out her heart to God.” (John Whitehead, from The Life of Rev. John Wesley)
Would an artist capture us on canvas as portraits of disciplined prayer warriors?
Abram and Sarai had a good, status quo life until God said, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.” (Gen 12:1) Abram and Sarai modeled obedience before the painter. Obedience led to their transformation, and later, this was signified by name changes. Ultimately, this led to the birth of a nation. “Despite the fact that he was 75 and, even though his elderly wife was barren, Abram put his faith more in God’s voice and in his character than in his current circumstances. God promised to show him where to go. To make something of his heart and his life. To bless people through him.” (Jill Weber)
Would an artist capture us on canvas, leaving our comfortable life to go where God said?
John Stott, theologian, pastor, and writer, started each day praying the fruit of the Spirit in his life. Just as an artist sitting before an empty canvas, Paul beautifully captured in Galatians 5 the picture of two different trees, the rotten fruit that falls from the tree of godlessness, compared to the life-giving fruit from a Spirit-filled life. “Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” The fruit of the world results in bitterness, despair, hunger, and sickness. The fruit of the Spirit results in life, beauty, filled, and healthy.
Would an artist capture us on canvas as portraits of Spirit-filled vibrancy?
Lord, today find us open and vulnerable to your touch. As you paint our portraits, we pray that you will find us filled with the Spirit, gentle, kind and seeking you with all our heart, mind, and soul.
We want our final portraits to resemble Jesus in every way.
God is great!

























