Guest Post: Jo LeGare | Reblogged from jo’s lunchbox
I have read somewhere that a painting is worth more than the sum of its parts. It is not just the canvas that is worth the fame and recognition, it is the landscape painted, the thoughts behind the brush, the swirl of colors on the artist’s palette.
Sometimes, when I am struck by a particularly beautiful shade tree, or a multifoliate rose, I turn to my laptop and my reference books for research. I like knowing the difference between a damselfly and a dragonfly; which trees in Texas bloom in the summertime (crepe myrtle, I have seen a lot of recently); or what type of seed mourning doves prefer so I can hear them coo every morning.
I like knowing little things about this world—it makes me love God more.
I may never be good at sketching the curvature of an equation, or of braiding my hair, but I at least know that my surroundings are so much more than the sum of its parts.
During one of my rabbit trails, I found myself reading about famous sycamore trees. I wasn’t reading about Zacchaeus, but about a man named Joseph Hampton. In 1744, he settled in the Shenandoah Valley with his two sons and lived in a hollowed sycamore tree. That sycamore tree wasn’t just a shade tree for man’s respite from the sun, it was a home. Three men lived in a tree! Ha! I would like to do something like that one day: to find a tree and love it enough to make it my home.
In turn, I thought of something much more impressive.
Imagine a man, unassuming in his looks and craft, simple in a world of bright, kaleidoscopic complexity. He is a tradesman, humble in man’s estimation. He has no need of impressing people, just as he has no need for a fine education or house. He just casts his net on one side of the boat and gathers fish, only to walk to the opposite side to cast out another. He will soon be called by the greatest Teacher who ever walked this earth to follow Him, the exact One who would redeem mankind for Himself. Here, at the feet of Jesus, he is called Petros, because he became courageous and firm in Christ. Here, God used a fisherman to confound emperors and giants of men.
Here, he is worth more than the sum of his parts.
I think God, in all of His gracious majesty, has made us greater than the sum of our parts. He has allowed us to confidently claim His Son, Jesus, as our identity. He has given us refuge in times of trouble, like the Hampton’s sturdy sycamore. We have no right to such a blessing, but He does it without measure or merit to us. He just extends His nail-scarred hands to me and says,
“Little girl, I say to you arise!”
I love the sound of mourning doves. They barrel their thick chests and coo right out their nostrils. They are the sheep of birds and I love them.
Jo is a junior at Texas A&M University and delights in writing about things she loves, including traveling, children, poetry, and Christ. Most of her time is spent at her kitchen table writing, mentoring young junior high school girls, or sharing the gospel on campus with Cru. She frequently updates her blog at joslunchbox.weebly.com.