Wanting to be me: thoughts on Joy and Faith

I do not seek to be existential, or at all philosophical, but yesterday I experienced the odd, yet thrilling sensation of being nameless face in a sea of strangers. It was a trip to the Art Institute of Chicago. And though I have been many times, each visit is eye-opening and profound. My Facebook status later that afternoon read, “trip to the art museum= a long walk among perfect strangers and dear friends.” Am I crazy, or did I just equate paintings with my close companions of flesh and blood?

It is both an honest and perplexing observation. Looking back, I imagine that being something Anne Shirley would say—a romantic view of a plebeian past-time. But what does that say about me? Or our society for that matter? How is it that I could be situated within such a space of beauty and inspiration, and feel no camaraderie for my fellow museum-goers? I’ll take a stab. It could be that many such patrons were simply there at the bidding of a loved one—for I saw no love of art in their eyes. Or it could be that I would have nothing worthwhile to say (Doesn’t the art demand silence and reflection?). Yet I believe the reason is far simpler than that.

In an era of social networking and an ever-shrinking world, I desired to just be me. And I choose to fully encompass that role in a place where I felt most comfortable. I wish I had a name for this type of place. Because I believe we should all go there more often. I, as much as anyone, am plagued by the constant inclination to be or act as someone I am not. Yet that is not who God made me to be. He made me to be me (a reflector of His image). Odd isn’t it. If I had not felt this straining tug at my heart, I might not have sought a remedy for this madness, but to the art museum I went. I went to immerse myself in that which is created (made to reflection Creation, I believe) and experience the full range of beauty, grotesque, pain, and rebirth.

In a strange way, this makes me think of faith. I’ve been learning and relearning quite a bit about that small word this week. From Abraham to Esther to David, to Jesus—wow, those guys knew about faith in God. We (and they knew this too) cannot be who God created us to be without recognizing our identity as God’s beloved, and following Him in faith. He is sovereign. We are not. Without resting in that fact, joy cannot be ours. Sure, we might have happiness, we may even feel ecstatic at times, but Scripture says the joy of the Lord is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10).

So when I am driven to the point of an “art museum excursion,” I humbly choose joy. What more can I do for the Man who got down on His hands and knees to wash His disciples’ feet? (John 13:1-17) With a towel around His waist and perfect blood running through His veins, He who created mud took it all on Himself and washed His creation clean.