I think I’m going to paint my living room red. Not a crass, fire-engine red or patriotic red, but more of a rosy, brown-tinged red. I’ll know it when I see it. I can’t wait to go to the paint store today to get the color charts.
I’m painting because it’s February. Not the easiest month: taxes; grey landscapes, Valentine’s Day hype, dirty cars, and the disciplines of Lent looming. We strive to ignore the countless clichés that clutter the consumer culture: the heart-shaped pizza, the St. Patrick’s’ Day shamrocks sported by elves (no wait…. they’re with Santa. I guess it’s leprechauns), and the pre-Lenten pastel bunnies that all delude us into thinking we’re in the midst of one big, ongoing party. Forget about the heartstoppingly-clueless politicians and the Fall Fashion Shows (yes, they have them NOW).
“God is in the details,” someone said. In February, we need to make a point of seeking out beauty because it can be more elusive than in, say, June. Go for the color. Do something tactile. Buy some tulips. Paint the living room…AND the dining room.
The most stirring examples in our Scriptures of God’s concern for the world are often in the micro, not the macro. Jesus didn’t perform mass healings, waving his arms and declaring, “You’re all well now. Have a nice day.” Rather, he healed individuals, one by one. Tenderly touching the eyes of the blind, lifting up those anguished with fever; commanding “evil spirits” to leave a tortured body. Jesus healed those who got close to him.
Although getting close to God through the external and internal macro-landscapes of February can be challenging, seeing God’s work in the micro and the details is easy.
“Beauty is the way God heals his broken children,” someone observed. And in February this beauty is everywhere for the attentive eye. It’s in the wall of flowers at the grocery store; it’s in the sun that peaks through the clouds unexpectedly; it’s in the ringing bells and the soaring voices of the choirs last Sunday as they asked, ”How Can I Keep from Singing?” It’s in the faces and dedication of those caring tenderly for the guests at Project Home.
And sometimes, if we are paying attention, there are those divine, specific moments when the singer’s voice cracks with emotion, the poem brings us to tears, or the selflessness of one person’s action awes us into silence. At these times, the earthly medium, whether it’s music, words, or human behavior, can no longer contain the immensity of the message, and then we are in the realm of God. What do we usually say? “Oh my God…”
How appropriate. Even in February.
See you in church.
Barbara
