Life in the Gallery

This past weekend, Margo and I took Beth to check out a college near D.C. As it turns out, we only needed about 15 minutes on campus to realize that this wasn't the place for Beth.

But since we were already in the metro area, we decided to swing along the National Mall and check out the cherry blossoms in full bloom. It was a beautiful day, and the trees really are spectacular.

Of course, our trip landed us smack in the middle of the annual Cherry Blossom Festival, which meant sitting in total deadlock by the time we reached the Washington Monument. Even the sidewalks were in deadlock! At least the view while we waited was breathtaking.

That got me thinking... Hundreds of thousands of people enduring the stress of such crowds just to soak in the beauty of a bunch of flowering trees. And every single one of them somehow knows instinctively that those trees are beautiful and worth seeing.

That same week, as we kicked back at home, we were watching television when a close-up of a leapord's face came on the screen. Everyone in the room reacted; there were a couple of "Ooos!" and "Ahhs!" along with one "Rewind, rewind! I wanna see it again!" (I'm telling you, High Definition and Digital Video Recording is simply amazing tech!)

We paused the image on the face of the leapord, admiring the shape, the subtle golds and blacks of his fur, the complex and random pattern of his spots, the ferocity of his gaze. He was magnificent... and I'm betting anyone else who watched that creature with us from their own homes agreed.

You know, if ever we needed convincing of the existence, intelligence, and awesomeness of God, all we have to do is check out the crowds gazing across the Grand Canyon, or strolling through a local zoo, or cutting wildflowers to bring into their kitchen, or buying an annual pass to our National Parks, or sitting quietly in the haunting shadows of the towering Muir Woods.

Certainly random, designer-less evolution could not have generated such a universal appreciation for aesthetics and a particular love for the wonders of nature. I suppose you could argue there is some psychological benefit from picking out certain colors for the walls of our homes, but it's hardly the kind of thing that qualifies as a "survival of the fittest" development. Loving the twisting shape of a tree, or the hush of a heavy snowfall, or the way sunlight glistens off the ocean waves... That didn't come by chance. SomeONE put that recognition of beauty in us by design.

What's more, our love for music, for art, and for other human attempts at creativity give us a glimpse at the desire to connect with the Creator in some way. Think about it: How many of man's artistic endeavors is an effort to capture or communicate the greater art found in creation? In my office I have a painting of a couple of birds sitting on the limb of a birch tree. Yet they're just images of the more wondrous reality. Those birds just sit there in two dimensions and pigment, while outside the window there are zillions of living, breathing birds to amaze us. Artists can try to capture a glimpse of the reality, perhaps even communicating some unique perspective or emotion in addition to their skill. But there is a great Artist and Creator that is merely reflected in even the best human endeavors.

Here's a more geeky way of thinking about it: If you're a fan of fiction with fantastical themes -- scifi, fantasy, etc. -- have you ever noticed that all the aliens and mythical creatures men create are really elements pieced together from the Creation all around us? So that ancient Greek chimera may be a monster, but it's pieced together from a lion, a snake, and a goat (original works from a greater Creator). Those aliens invading the earth in the Saturday matinee? They look a lot like a cross between giant flies and lobsters, don't they? Humans find it very difficult to create anything original without first drawing on the artistry of the true Creator.

So I'm choosing to look out the windows whenever I can this week. Even while working on other projects, I want to gaze at the cosmic gallery of the greatest Artist of time and space. And as I see the flowering trees dancing in the gentle breeze, it dawns on me that Father made all of this in just six days. I can't wait to see what he has in store for eternity!