Faith

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Art history. Why on earth did I ever sign up for this class. There are so many other electives I could have chosen, but I just had to be near Amy. Amazing how the opportunity to spend four hours a week in a dimly lit, poorly ventilated classroom can change the landscape of one semester. As I sit here listening to one more lecture on how great the masters were at preparing their canvas or applying their brushstrokes, I remind myself that next time I get the bright idea to show a softer side of myself I need to try my hand at poetry, or shed a tear at some poignant moment in Casablanca. On the bright side this is the final lecture of the semester. Then using my skills as a trained first semester art authority I need to persuasively demonstrate what great art is, in no less than five typed pages.
Lamenting this assignment I turn to watch the progress of the touch football game taking place on the lawn below the classroom window. Someone has just given their best All-American moves and scored a touchdown. As his teammates run down to join him, the cheering, laughing, and trash talking all begin. As I eavesdrop upon this scene of exuberance I am struck by how tranquil it seems. These coeds are enjoying this moment, as if this is the only responsibility they have. It is beautiful. And that‘s when it comes to me. I do understand art. Maybe not the pieces hanging in a museum, but the pieces of my life. All of the people and events who matter to me most. Every time Amy turns to flash me her stunning smile I am reminded of what true art is. The way her hair falls across her shoulder, and the tilt of her head as she pokes me to make sure I am awake. Or the pizza and laughs I shared last night with my best friend. I know I will never appreciate the lecture being given, or the fact that some sixteenth century Italian artist was commissioned to paint a ceiling.
As I stare out the milky pane of the window, I realize for the first time in my life the masterpiece of my world. How the greatest work of art was created not with brush and paint, or carved from a gnarled piece of marble, but was formed when the greatest Artist of all time spoke these simple words: “Let there be light.” (Genesis 1:3 KJV)

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