Consider the Wildflowers: Painting to Quiet my Heart
We’re entering September, when everything feels so bright and full here in New England. The trees still have most of their leaves, which are slowly revealing their vibrant reds and yellows and oranges kept hidden under the summer greens. The fields along the sides of the Mass Pike are spotted with fading wildflowers, pops of color amidst the tall grass.
In Massachusetts, we’re used to watching as spring, summer, fall, and winter pass over us year after year. The natural world around us consents to both sun and frost without resistance, though we may carry our own hopes and opinions about the changing seasons.
Have you ever noticed that the created world doesn’t experience God’s ever-rotating rhythms as interruptions? Instead each flower and tree responds to the ever-shifting seasons according to its nature. They are willing, not willful. Yet we as human beings are practically the only ones among God’s creation who resist and rebel against the sacred times and seasons He has pre-established. Of course I don’t just mean wishing winter would slow down in its coming, but also in the changing seasons of our own personal lives.
In Luke 12:27, Jesus teaches, “Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.”
“Consider the Wildflowers 001”
For over a year now, I’ve found myself coming frequently to this passage. My mind often racing, my heart trembling with fear, I hear the Spirit’s whisper, “Consider the wildflowers.” Finally, I decided to lock in and take Christ’s words literally. I began a series of paintings centered around considering the wildflowers. I live in Massachusetts, and it’s the end of summer, so it’s not a hard teaching to follow. A wide variety of wildflowers are just a stroll or a bike ride away.
And as I’ve started this painting series, I’ve noticed a few things. First, I’m amazed at how many places you’ll see a wildflower growing. The crack of a sidewalk, the edge of bridge, a field by the road. They’re everywhere! Hidden amidst the grass, they call out to the glory of Solomon. I wonder how many wildflowers have lived and died without a human ever laying eyes on them—yet God still saw fit to clothe them in splendor.
Another thing I’ve noticed is how much quieter my own heart becomes as I sit and paint these wildflowers. I have a million things on my mind… housing, finances, elderly grandparents, immigration, government, my own grief, my friends’ grief, dread of the coming winter, business, marketing, heartsickness… need I go on? But as I sit and paint, I can’t explain what happens. A small sense of quiet creeps into my heart. A stillness. It reminds me of the Psalmist’s words, “But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me” (Psalm 131:2). My problems don’t disappear; unfortunately the racing thoughts often return later in the day. But it’s a respite, a moment of meditation. And for that I’m grateful.
I’m sharing this series of paintings especially for all who are worried, anxious, and overwhelmed. I know the feeling. I want to give you something, somewhere to go with that angst and find quiet for your soul. I hope these paintings can be one space for that for you. You can follow along on my Instagram to see my process as I create and subscribe to my newsletter (below) to get first access to these paintings when I release them.
And as you go about your day today, consider the wildflowers. They grow without labor or toil, yet are clothed in splendor by their Creator. Imagine how much more He cares for you.
