Under the Surface

A few weeks ago at my church in Los Angeles, a friend led a group of creatives in an art therapy activity that incorporated listening prayer. Paints, crayons, oil pastels, and background music were provided, as well as a question: “Lord, what is a lie I am believing, and what is the truth You want to give me instead?” 

I love prayer and creativity, but I was nervous about participating in this activity for one reason: making visual art has at times really stressed me out! (That might sound silly coming from a creative person, but perfectionism is silly. Doing something I’m not trained in or necessarily gifted at can bring up a lot of anxiety for me.) 

I grabbed some paint supplies and decided to paint an ocean, not because I heard a lie or a truth (I honestly didn’t make the time to listen), but because I’d painted some oceans before with decent results. Making the effort to be creative, I folded a piece of paper in half, thinking I could paint an ocean scene on the front and use the inside of the folded paper as a journal. I placed a large green paper beneath it so I wouldn’t get paint on the black tablecloth covering our workspace. I began to paint, feeling a palpable anxiety but also not wanting to miss what the Lord had for me from this activity. My ocean looked okay, and the clouds in the sky above it did too, but I didn’t feel like they were good enough and painted over them.

The ocean I painted from anxiety

Thinking I might start over, I lifted up my paper and then saw the green paper I had laid beneath it. Jagged edges of multiple colors created an asymmetrical frame, a result of the different colors I had used when trying to paint a sunset sky. Light pink contrasted brightly against the green of the paper, a paper I chose not because of its color but simply because I didn’t want to make a mess. Suddenly artistic possibilities rose up within me because of this surprise. I began doodling and writing on the green paper, the lies within me suddenly clear: “I have to be perfect. I can’t be in a process.” And truth started to emerge instead: “Process is okay. God is working. I’m learning. Be.” What had been created accidentally, quietly unfolding under the surface, was much more interesting than what I struggled to paint from my perfectionism. And God used it to unfurl banners of truth in the darkened sky of my mind. 

What emerged underneath

As you go about your day after reading this, perhaps you could ask the same question, the one I may have ignored but that He didn’t ignore –

Lord, what is a lie I’m believing, and what is the truth You want to give me instead?