I have read somewhere that a painting is worth more than the sum of its parts. It is not just the canvas that is worth the fame and recognition, it is the landscape painted, the thoughts behind the brush, the swirl of colors on the artist’s palette.
Sometimes, when I am struck by a particularly beautiful shade tree, or a multifoliate rose, I turn to my laptop and my reference books for research. I like knowing the difference between a damselfly and a dragonfly; which trees in Texas bloom in the summertime (crepe myrtle, I have seen a lot of recently); or what type of seed mourning doves prefer so I can hear them coo every morning. I like knowing little things about this world—it makes me love God more. I may never be good at sketching the curvature of an equation, or of braiding my hair, but I at least know that my surroundings are so much more than the sum of its parts. During one of my rabbit trails, I found myself reading about famous sycamore trees. I wasn’t reading about Zacchaeus, but about a man named Joseph Hampton. In 1744, he settled in the Shenandoah Valley with his two sons and lived in a hollowed sycamore tree. That sycamore tree wasn’t just a shade tree for man’s respite from the sun, it was a home. Three men lived in a tree! Ha! I would like to do something like that one day: to find a tree and love it enough to make it my home. In turn, I thought of something much more impressive. Imagine a man, unassuming in his looks and craft, simple in a world of bright, kaleidoscopic complexity. He is a tradesman, humble in man’s estimation. He has no need of impressing people, just as he has no need for a fine education or house. He just casts his net on one side of the boat and gathers fish, only to walk to the opposite side to cast out another. He will soon be called by the greatest Teacher who ever walked this earth to follow Him, the exact One who would redeem mankind for Himself. Here, at the feet of Jesus, he is called Petros, because he became courageous and firm in Christ. Here, God used a fisherman to confound emperors and giants of men. Here, he is worth more than the sum of his parts. I think God, in all of His gracious majesty, has made us greater than the sum of our parts. He has allowed us to confidently claim His Son, Jesus, as our identity. He has given us refuge in times of trouble, like the Hampton’s sturdy sycamore. We have no right to such a blessing, but He does it without measure or merit to us. He just extends His nail-scarred hands to me and says, “Little girl, I say to you arise!” I love the sound of mourning doves. They barrel their thick chests and coo right out their nostrils. They are the sheep of birds and I love them.
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sittin' under some crepe myrtle, eating a bagel, very happy with life! "Therefore, I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field [crepe myrtle on campus], how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore, do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." (Matthew 6:25-34) From the inside flap of one of my favorite books (and TV series), Christy by Catherine Marshall. I would create a song for this though I don't believe it is sung.
Down in the valley valley so low Hang your head over, hear the wind blow. Hear the wind blow, love, hear the wind blow; Hang your head over, hear the wind blow. There are several things that make me feel cozy. Coziness is listening to Don McLean in a hot truck on a bright summer's day, or being wrapped in an old blanket during a storm, or snuggling with drowsy babies or cats, or being on the receiving end of a loved one's smile. I love being cozy. Every time I meet someone new, I want them to feel cozy and loved. It is a sweet word because it invokes thoughts of Winnie the Pooh, slow turtles and turtleneck sweaters, spiced candles. Yet often in my state of coziness, I am inconsistent and disappointed. I notice that my blanket has holes or that my truck is stuck in mud. Soon I become a gaunt weed, pesky to my friends and my spiritual health. Coziness may bring me comfort, but it is never completely satisfying.
For when I am comfortable, I am a lotus in stagnant water, a goldfish in a small tank. I feel I am very much a mushroom—I don’t require sunlight to grow. But I desire sunlight. I desire each day to be consistently in the Sun’s presence. Ah, to soak up needed nutrients and vitamins, growing and stretching like a little flower to a source of light! I want to be as radiant as He is, content in the presence of the Son who sets hearts in eternal flames. Perhaps the greatest coziness is the fact that I will be His forevermore, and that I can live just as boldly in my disappointment as I do in His grace. I may experience the human frailty of inconsistency, but the Son is remarkably an ever fixed mark. Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. - Lao Tzu
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