Painting in Black

If you remember this painting from last week, you will see that I have made progress. Today my teacher stepped over to look at my work, and exclaimed: “Peggy you used black.” I looked at her shocked expression and asked if I had ruined the painting. “No,” she said, “you have made it come to life, but I am surprised knowing how fearful you are of using black.”
She’s right, you know. Black paint scares me. If you goof with black, there is no going back. You can’t paint over black. It can make or break your painting. When I have invested lots of time in a painting, I am terrified to ruin it.
I realized I have grown more conservative. Things worry me more. I have more fears. I am not willing to risk as much. I walk down the sidewalk looking at where I am going, lest I trip and fall and hurt myself. I don’t drive in Rio anymore. When planning a trip, I think about how I will do with all the sitting, lugging, stress, discomfort. I refuse to invest my money in anything but a savings account. I don’t embrace risk. I don’t embrace change. I have changed.
This is perhaps clearest to me in my church life. I fought for change and innovation in worship and structure for years. I was part of one of the first singing groups where the women wore pants, we used a drummer and we sang in a contemporary style. Admittedly that sounds tame now, but it wasn’t in 1970.
Now what I most want in worship in reflection, contemplation, quiet. I have changed. Sunday as I listened to the hymn being played, I thought of all I would have missed had I not grown up hearing and singing hymns. The words didn’t make a lot of sense to me as a child. But as I listened to the first hymn I learned to play on the piano, being beautifully executed this Sunday, I realized that a hymn that I found tedious and meaningless when I was 9 years old, was speaking to my soul. “Sing them over again to me… wonderful Words of Life.” 50 years later, I got the hymn. I want to hear God’s Word over and over and over again. Hymns I learned decades ago, echo in my mind and heart. Through our hymns, my past and present faith are knit together through my memories, emotions, experiences and reality. They truly are a rich inheritance.
I am sorry for the current generation who will miss out on that. I read on a website a criticism of a worship service because they sang a song that was “so old” – it had been popular last year – who could imagine singing something SO outdated?  Yeah, not me I guess. Everything seems so disposable. I really do like innovation in worship. I hate doing the same old meaningless things. I don’t want us to sing songs just because they bring back memories or because they stir up emotions or because grandpa loved them. There are lots of just horrible hymns. Still,and all, I think we are losing more than we are gaining by throwing out great theological declarations of faith set to music. I think we are losing our groundedness and commonality in worship, when everybody does their own thing. I rarely am able to join in singing in other churches these days, because I have never heard the songs that group likes. When we had a common hymnbook, that usually didn’t happen. I can hardly recall most of the chorus’ that were so popular 10 years ago. But who can forget the words of “My Faith has Found a Resting Place” when our voices soar to declare “I need no other argument, I need no other plea, It is enough that Jesus died, and that He died for me.” Or who has never found comfort from the words “Stayed upon Jehovah, Hearts are fully blessed; Finding, as He promised, Perfect peace and rest.” from “Like a River Glorious”?  I could go on and on exclaiming about how hymns have comforted and helped me in both joyous and despondent moments of my life.
Some hymns I have learned to love more in Portuguese than in English, as is the case with “It is Well With my Soul”. Others I have actually learned here in Brazil. Although I have only known the hymn “Children of the Heavenly Father” for 20 years (and that is not exactly a short time!) I have come to love it, especially the lines: “Though He giveth or He taketh, God His children ne’er forsaketh; His the loving purpose solely To preserve them pure and holy.” Yes, the language is old-fashioned, but that just makes a stronger link to those who have gone before me. Yes, the melody is Swedish, but that makes it more international. Yes, it is not triumphalist, but the theology is rock solid.
What am I saying? Like Joni Mitchell, I can say “I’ve looked at life from both sides now…”. Being in the avant-garde, and being rearguard each has its advantages. I know it’s part of the natural process of life to move to the “right” as I age. I just wish there was a nice way for us all the get along and be patient with one another as each struggle (the young and the old) to change and to stay the same. I am just grateful, at this point, that the worship at my church affords me the opportunity for reflection, thinking, being quiet, singing hymns and of maintaining a link to the past.
So while I may have found the courage to risk the use black paint, and the courage to even learn how to paint, there are some things I am just not willing to risk. And I think I am OK with that. So sometimes I’ll still use the black paint, and sometimes I won’t.