My dear friend, Katie Calvert, has been responding to Psalm 126 through art for a couple of years. She boldly walked in obedience to the Holy Spirit’s nudging in pioneering an artistic response series at our church. When she introduced the idea to our worship leaders, they RAN with it beautifully, bringing great detail and intentionality to each artist’s story and piece. The vision of this series has become so much greater than any of us imagined and has introduced a great partnership between our pastors and artists within the church. It is a stunning collaboration and visual of Jesus at work. There was a total of ten featured artists partnering with a pastor this summer, each one responding to a different Psalm. I’m beyond grateful to be a part of a church that is working hard to welcome opportunities to work together with everyone’s various giftings within the Body! See below for my response to Psalm 139 along with my artist statement:
“YOU are fearfully and wonderfully made. YOU are known and loved.”
But… am I?
Most days, I have to fight to believe that this could actually be true for me.
I can talk about the character of God all day… passionately.
I can pour truths over others, declaring their identity in Christ and believing it wholeheartedly for them.
But to allow the Spirit to pour those truths over me and believe them? That, on the other hand, often feels uncomfortable, selfish, prideful and even sinful. I’ve believed for far too long that thinking of myself, even in meditating on my God-given worth, is sin, because I’m thinking about myself and not others. You might imagine then, that responding to a psalm for the purpose of worship in the church, with basically a self-portrait, feels deeply personal, vulnerable, and intimate.
But isn’t that exactly the character of God? Personal. Vulnerable. Intimate.
For the past few months, I’ve been walking closely with a small group of other ladies, sharing our stories and pains, and asking Jesus to help us believe His truth about who we are. One of the biggest lies I’ve realized I tend to believe about myself is, “If you really knew me, you wouldn’t love or accept me.” I’ve grappled with this lie and many others in the midst of this artistic process. I’ve spent hours pouring over this particular piece in the quiet, being reminded of our Good Father’s care for us and His kind Omnipresence in the midst of my desire to hide. It is only by the Spirit and His hemming in behind and before me that I’ve been able to experience true freedom. Art is playing a large part in that healing process.
I felt apprehensive to respond to Psalm 139 at first because it holds certain levels of weight and significance for many. I feared unspoken expectations and struggled with fearing my work may be a disappointment paired with such a well known Psalm. Yet the Lord continued to draw it to my attention so I walked onward. My husband, JD, and I began brainstorming ideas and landed on a concept with the psalm handwritten in calligraphy using Payne’s Gray watercolor. The scripture frames a person’s silhouette, incorporating the idea of His Word abiding within us. While I originally thought I should use our daughters’ silhouettes, the Holy Spirit gently redirected me and led me to use my own silhouette as a continuation of my healing journey with Him. Personal. Vulnerable. Intimate.
As I began praying through grievous ways in myself, the Holy Spirit brought to my attention that I tend to condemn myself as a defense so that Jesus and others won’t have to. I often live in the heap of ashes, in the darkness, rather than living in the light of Jesus. Through Him, I have been fully forgiven, clothed in righteousness and adorned with a headdress of beauty and restoration. He tells me: “You have permission to stand with your feet firmly planted and live in the freedom of who I have created you to be.” He knows me and still continues to want to know me. The headdress of beauty is represented in this piece as a floral crown and symbolizes Isaiah 61. In addition, as I’m learning to walk boldly in the identity God has given me, I realize this journey is incomplete and raw, which is reflected in the unfinished edges displayed on the watercolor paper. My dad crafted this frame out of sassafras and coated it with tung oil to maintain its natural state; more evidence of the Father’s hand at work. Christ has healed me, Christ is healing me, Christ will heal me.
My hope is that anyone can look at this piece and imagine themself. My hope is that YOU see this silhouette, and know that this is what God declares about you too.
As many of you have requested, you can now find this piece in our current collection!
