Funny face

All of us have visited festivals or theme parks where street artists are sketching faces for money. Most often the drawings aren’t true to the person but are caricatures bearing similarities with exaggerated differences. The artists are quite good and most likely can draw faces accurately, but what makes it fun is producing pictures in which one facial detail is highlighted and drawn larger-than-life.

The artist first studies the face he’ll draw, looking for a dominant feature. Maybe it’s a turned up nose or freckles or heavy eyebrows. Then he creates a picture around that feature. Passers-by enjoy watching the face come to life on paper, chuckling as the artist reveals through charcoal or chalk what facial characteristic he’ll overstate.

The one being drawn nervously awaits the end result, knowing he or she will be paying for something that resembles their reflection in a fun-house mirror.

When I was in 7th grade, my family went on vacation, and my face was caricaturized. Although signing up for one of these drawings is risky and the end result often insulting, this artist was kind. I didn’t get a nose and my freckles were pronounced, but “Davo” gave me bright blue eyes and a lovely ponytail.

When Nate was a young lawyer in Chicago’s Loop, an acquaintance was practicing his cartooning and asked if he could draw a caricature of Nate. He, too, was kind, making Nate look like Robert Redford in an action movie. He gave him the jaw line of Superman and the heavy hair of a Kennedy, and we had the picture framed and hung for many years.

To me, the most interesting part of an artist’s caricature is the moment just before he puts chalk to paper when he’s studying the face in front of him to decide what feature(s) he’ll amplify. It reminds me of how we often see ourselves. We exaggerate certain features in our minds and think other people are judging us as a caricature rather than accepting the real us.

The other side of that dilemma is our looking at someone else and judging them unfairly based on one physical feature or even just one facet of their personality. I’m disgusted to say I sometimes do this, and I know God is highly displeased when I do.

What if the Lord looked at me that way? What if he said, “Margaret, you missed a chance to help your friend today; therefore you are a lazy, self-centered bum who never lifts a finger to help anyone. That’s how I see you.”

When I fall short, God may put me in a disciplinary situation but he is always and forever the God of new beginnings. Although he’s the one person who judges with complete accuracy 100% of the time, he sees me through the perfection of Jesus Christ and sets judgment aside because of that.

An artist creating a caricature looks at me with the desire to transform my face with humorous characteristics. God looks with a desire to transform me into a person of improved character. There’s a big difference.

Although an artist’s caricature-drawing is good for a few laughs, God’s character-building is serious improvement, good for all eternity.

“May you always be filled with the fruit of your salvation—the righteous character produced in your life by Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 1:11)

Remembering the Funeral

Early this morning, taking advantage of the extra hour afforded by turning back the clocks, I spent some time thinking about Nate’s funeral. I read the blog post from a year ago, then asked God, “What do you want me to think about all this?”

His answer came in a millisecond. “Study My words, not yours.”

It’s always a relief when God answers definitively. On November 7 last year, I ended my blog with a quote from Isaiah 61, because it referenced a “spirit of heaviness” (KJV), which was what I was feeling then. Those verses were God’s answer on that day as to what I should be thinking, so I decided to meditate on that passage.

The words describe Jesus, who would “comfort all that mourn,” and having buried my husband that day, I needed comforting. Lying in bed behind a closed door that night, I asked God to shape my thoughts, and the phrases from Isaiah (see the end of this post) wrapped around me like the layers of a soothing quilt.

A year ago I didn’t study the verses or look into their Hebrew origins but simply took them at face value and accepted the comfort they gave. On a night when I might have tossed and turned until the wee hours, I fell right to sleep.

This morning, one year later, I decided to take a closer look at the Scripture using my Strong’s Concordance. What was it about those phrases that had brought me such comfort? Here are the meanings:

  • to bind up = to wrap firmly (like an Ace bandage that feels good on an injury)
  • to comfort = to feel sorry for (as God shared in my sorrow)
  • beauty for ashes = to remove despair and substitute brightness (transforming a weary face into a rested one)
  • oil of joy = to anoint with costly, perfumed oil (symbolizing fruitfulness to come)
  • garment of praise = to feel like singing again (a song God would supply)

In the year since Nate’s funeral, God has done all of those things in multiples, which makes me want to be part of the last phrase of Isaiah 61:3, “…that the Lord might be glorified.” In addition to God’s generous comfort on that night a year ago, he also placed an opportunity in front of me.

It was as if he said, “Would you be willing to show others how you leaned on Me in your time of need? Would you let people watch Scripture work for you? Would you testify to the profound things I’ll be teaching you? If you’re willing, this will bring Me glory.” I said “yes”, and sharing honestly throughout this year has brought me joy.

When I looked up today after studying Isaiah 61, it was 12:25. Even though I’d had an extra hour, I’d completely missed church!

But then again, not really…

“The Lord has anointed Me to… bind up the broken hearted… to comfort all that mourn… to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness… that the Lord might be glorified.” (Isaiah 61:1-3)

Surfing the Waves

In our family history, last November 5 was a quiet day, the lull before the storm, so to speak. It was a day wedged between Nate’s death and his funeral, a period of calm after six weeks of running hard, being sad, worrying continually, losing sleep and getting tossed by the emotional waves of disease and death.

This web site, www.GettingThroughThis.com, has a picture of a giant, crashing wave as its banner. It depicts what surfers call a “tunnel” inside of rolling water so powerful it could easily overwhelm and destroy. There’s only one way to avoid being swamped, and that’s to progress through the tunnel, but with one critical condition: to keep moving forward.

Fifteen months ago we started this site with the hope it would encourage readers who were “going through” difficulties. No two of us are dealing with the same struggles, but all of us struggle. As I began posting blogs, I had no idea Nate’s cancer would soon be the white water pounding all around us. By the name “getting through this” I’d been thinking of universal frustrations such as trying to sell a house in an unstable market or coping with financial difficulty. My husband’s death? Unthinkable!

And yet that’s what our family has been “getting through” during this last 12 months. Although we’ve been trying to keep moving forward, once in a while we’ve been caught in a whirlpool, swirling round and round in the same sad place. Because of God’s involvement, however, our “getting through this” has gradually moved forward the way an expert surfer moves through the tunnel of a monster-size wave.

“Getting through” life’s challenges can feel much like surfing. Trying to sell a house might be like managing a gentle swell, while financial difficulties could be a rougher wave-ride. But when a family member dies, we feel threatened with an overhead crash. Nevertheless, the principle of survival remains the same: keep moving forward.

But can we do it without firm footing? The technical description of how a wave is formed hints at the answer:”Wind transfers some of its energy to the water by way of friction between the air molecules and water molecules.”

Waves gain energy from friction, and so can we. When life becomes abrasive, we know God is willing to provide adequate energy right behind it. He’s willing to blow a wind of vigor and endurance into our lives more powerful than any surfing wave, so potent that not even geyser-high troubles can engulf us.

Our family has asked God for that energy and endurance a thousand times during this last year, and God never said, “Not this time.”

Instead he’s delivered and “gotten us through” our tunnel of sorrow and change, one section at a time, always ahead of a swamping crash. He’s been the one who’s kept us from going under by reestablishing firm footing on biblical truth every time we felt our feet swept out from under us. But why not? We’re children of the God who has complete control over wind and waves… both water waves and waves of trouble.

Without him, though, we would surely have drowned.

“He calmed the storm to a whisper and stilled the waves. What a blessing was that stillness as he brought them safely into harbor!” (Psalm 107:29-30)