what an artist taught me about losing and finding

my dad has been convincing me to take a theology class since my freshman year of college. and finally gordon created a christian theology class as part of their new core curriculum. thankfully i had room in my schedule this semester to take an elective class and found myself in a large lecture twice a week and a fifteen-person seminar led by a professor. the lectures were certainly interesting and i learned a lot through this class about topics such as community, the Church, the Trinity, etc. but what has blessed me the most was the conversation i had with my seminar professor this morning. a conversation where i left crying, tears coming from my eyes as i walked through the rain, because of the truth that he spoke to me, because of the way his words brought joy and hope to my life - even though what he said wasn't simple, what he said didn't solve my stress or frustration or longing for peace, but he showed me something better.

my professor, who is part of the art department at gordon, talked to our class on monday about how he "does theology" by creating art. he works through the complexities and questions of life through his art work. it's a way of expressing the inexpressible, of trying to communicate what we he doesn't understand, what he can't contain in a box. it's sort of how i feel about trying to write, or express thanks or other emotions in words or actions, or something because i can't contain it.

what spoke to me most was this idea of "losing and finding." my professor is a painter and uses different mediums to create pieces of art that reflect this concept of losing and finding -- he will paint beautiful images and then he will "lose" those images as he covers them up with different colors, maybe a different scene, or a different medium. it's like this process of letting go - of not really having complete control of your art, of what you're creating, but rather letting something bigger than yourself help you create this piece of work.

isn't this losing and finding so much of what life is? not only losing people, but also losing part of ourselves: our ideas of what our future is going to look like, what our relationships are, where our next steps lead, who we are? i see so much truth in this -- so much about losses (both big and small), and what are we finding in that? what are we finding within that process that is often so painful and hard?

my professor asked me the question: do you have a sense of what your vocation is alyssa? and i immediately did the typical: "i don't know i don't know i don't know" (i'm a senior. i think this is what we all say at some point during the course of this year). but his answer was this: that's not really what i meant in the sense of occupational vocation, but your vocation as a person -- who you want to become, who you want to be? what does it mean for you to live a good life?

wow.

i immediately was like "you're so right! and that's what i've been talking with the freshman in my class i TA for about living the good life and not just thinking about this in terms of a job!" but i got ahead of myself and was just thinking about occupation, about what to do.

maybe i need to instead focus on this state of being. yes, i do need to consider jobs and careers and all of that, but i want to just be. and to be a part of this art work that is life, this process of living and in living losing, and even through that loss and pain, believing in a God who calls me to lose in order to find something greater. i'm in the process of learning how to trust in this God who will lead me to something greater than myself -- something full of mystery and wonder -- and a mystery that is good and full of hope and love.

this God is not safe -- my professor said this and i remember listening to my cousin's sermon this summer saying the exact same thing.
but God is good.
i know this in the very depths of my being.

He wants to create with me, to be a part of this painting and to let go of my attempts to achieve knowledge, to get the answers, to understand fully -- but when i let go of this, i will find something greater, i will be a part of a journey, apart of a beautiful piece of art.

my professor quoted TS Eliot's Little Gidding, the last section of The Four Quartets with a piece of art which similarly expresses the concept of losing and finding, and i want to close this post with those words:

With the drawing of the Love and the voice of this Calling

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

Through the unknown, unremembered gate

When the last of the earth left to discover

Is that which was the beginning;

At the source of the longest river

The voice of the hidden waterfall

And the children in the apple tree

Not known, because not looked for

But heard, half-heard, in the stillness

Between two waves of the sea.

Quick now, here, now, always--

A condition of complete simplicity

(Costing not less than everything)

And all shall be well and 

All manner of thing shall be well

When the tongues of flame are in-folded

Into the crowned knot of fire

And the fire and the rose are one.