“You do not know when His voice will come, but wherever the realization of God comes in the faintest way imaginable, recklessly abandon. It is only by abandon that you recognize Him. You will only realize His voice more clearly by recklessness.”

–Oswald Chambers from My Utmost for His Highest

I make notes in the margins of my Bible and the other day I ran into a note written “boxed in” next to a verse in Lamentations 3:7,9.  That note reminded me that a couple of years ago I had been mulling over the idea that people are suffering, putting up with difficulties and their own inability to solve or fix problems. As if they are living in a box tightly sealed, with no hope. 

I remembered thinking that if those people living in the box, with pain only knew that just outside their box, Jesus was standing there with his hands stretched out, whispering I am with you, “Invite me in.” 

Maybe when I read that particular verse I entered a kind of reckless abandon. The idea of people in boxes was one I’d come up with and had a tiny sketch on a post it. In my garage studio I had boxes of canvases, 18 x 24 inch gallery wrapped. Five to a box. I opened one and took out all five canvases and tore off the cellophane. 

I started drawing with charcoal  on the first and grabbed jar of modeling paste and started filling it in with a palette knife. Set it aside to dry and grabbed another canvas—another sketch in charcoal, more modeling paste. As I worked on each one another image would come and I moved to the next and the next. 

I remembered that we all should have a kind of shrine inside that is where we meet God and are quiet. I remembered that God even holds our tears as precious.

I had never left white canvas unpainted. I had never worked so fast.I let the idea of “perfect” and “finished” go by the wayside. I dug for collage pieces and ended up with 12 paintings done in a few weeks. 

I do believe it qualified as reckless abandon—I just could not say no. 

These people were inside the box of the edges of the canvas, but I had more ideas and so I had to make some figures actually inside boxes or squares and I searched through life-drawing sketches for ideas of postures. 

This week, thinking back to those paintings, I understand that I was praying for people and that an act of painting can be a kind of intercession. It can also be hope for communication and that those hurting people find help and maybe even love.