I love this painting, Claude Monet’s Impression, Sunrise, painted in 1872, quite possibly the painting that launched the whole impressionist movement. It’s marvelous. Sharon and I first hung a print of this painting when we moved to our condo in downtown Seattle. The painting was like looking out those big windows, sometimes into the fog, sometimes out over the blue Sound toward the Olympics, over the city as it would wake up each day. We would watch the ferry from Bainbridge arrive very early in the morning.
I had just retired from my work at Seattle Pacific University. We were pulling up roots, all of it necessary, of course, but still painful. This painting became for me a symbol of that moment, the sky filled with the fog of uncertainty about what might lie out ahead, the water a little choppy, the horizon a bit gloomy. I think I identified with that guy in his little boat, striking out over the waters alone, not sure where I was headed, not sure I was in control of anything anymore.
But wait, look again, do you see that sun peaking through, that little sun, promising so much out ahead? Sunrise must be on its way!
I stood in front of this painting just the other day, now hung in our place in Pasadena. It seemed to speak vividly once again. Without question the fog hangs heavy for all of us today. Nothing seems certain. How much more suffering will there be, will it strike home, will financial stress drive many into despair? We don’t know. We’ve got lots of data, as we are fond of saying, but we really don’t know. This is a time of waiting. This is a time that calls for patience.
The great twentieth-century poet Rainer Maria Rilke, wrote a series of amazing letters, from 1902–1908, to a young budding writer who asked for advice. Rilke says a lot of wonderful things in these letters, about learning a craft, about living life fully, but his call for patience, as a mark of growing maturity, has always lingered with me. Being an artist, Rilke says, like living well, means,
ripening, like a tree which doesn’t force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid that afterward summer may not come. It does come. But it comes only to those who are patient, who are there as if eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly silent and vast. I learn it every day of my life, learn it with pain I am grateful for: patience is everything!
I admit patience has never been my strong suit. I want to fix things, right now. And I’m tired at the moment of being patient. Will summer ever come again? Can we spot the little sun breaking through the fog? Well, we can’t force the answers we want to hear right now, can we? Rilke is right: We must grow in patience. Like a tree, grow from deep within. Summer will come again. Don’t you see it?
As usual, I find myself turning, from a great painter in this case, from a poet, to the beauty of the promises of my faith. Listen to this from the prophet Hosea:
Let us strive to know the Lord,
whose coming is as sure as the sunrise.
He will come to us like the rain,
like spring rains that water the earth.
Here we are waiting too. Here we must also grow in patience. But as we wait, we are encouraged to do something: “Strive to know the Lord.” What does that mean? I surely need the data, yes, but maybe I need a different order of knowing, too. We could turn to prayer, real prayer, for example. We could read the Psalms, follow our Lord in this season to the cross, all the way to the garden of resurrection. Yes, strive to know the Lord. He will come, sure as the sunrise!
So as we look out over the waters, look squarely into the fog, we see, there is that sun faintly breaking through. Patience is everything.
Again today His Word remains true that is still saying,
“I AM blessing you and keeping you;
I AM making MY face shine upon you,
And being gracious to you;
I AM lifting up MY countenance upon you,
And giving you peace.”
Thus writing His name both on us and in us.
This blessing is not dependent on the weather, the political climate, or trying times like the current pestilence and economic downturn. He remains faithfully with us no matter what the day may bring, as long as the seasons continue on the earth, even through the end of the age. Are we remaining in Him – in the Secret Place of the Most High? If so then we can rest assured that He is forever blessing us and keeping us…. As we remember these words and serve Him joy and gladness of heart for the abundance of everything our countenance is lifted up along with His.
A beautiful, timely word. Thank you…
Phil, Thank you for drawing us to reflection and to God and His Word!
Phil, I just read your wonderful piece on the need for patience during this health crisis. You wisely suggest this time can be an opportunity to “know God” during the order to “stay-at-home.” Truth be told, I lost most of my patience while driving in Seattle traffic! Your wisdom came on the heals of my pastor’s comments this past Sunday regarding our restricted movement. Rather than feeling we are wasting time, he wondered aloud how we might better use the time. Could it me a time of rethinking how we live our lives? Could this lead to re-prioritizing what’s important? In our harried, fast-paced lives, are there some things we could let go? Places where we should spend more time? Relationships that need to be nurtured? He ended his remarks by suggesting we could either leave this time of mandatory inaction disoriented or reoriented. Each of you have left me with much to consider. Thank you.
Phil,
As always, you are thoughtful and prompting us to think more deeply, more beautifully.
I am struck by the sunrise that we are waiting for, for Easter, for the resurrection, for Jesus who meets head first, all of the pain, the death, the sin and he is bending history towards justice. He is bending history towards justice as this morning I am also hearing about World Vision’s plans to help those in Africa as COVID-19 is coming their way. I feel the darkness and the fog as I hear that Kenya has 50 ICU beds, Uganda has 42, Rwanda has 32 and Liberia has none. I heard a co worker talk about being at a Zambian hospital as one baby was taken off their only ventilator and another put on because it had a higher chance of survival. Yet, Jesus is responding, moving, preparing for his Kingdom to come to our dark place and bringing his light. I too am waiting and drawn by this sunrise.
Thanks for your inspirational reminder.
Blessings,
Doug Taylor
So beautiful, Phil, and relates to my readings this morning: Lamentations 3:22-23 – ” …his compassions never fail. They are new every morning…” and Romans 5:3 – “We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials for we know that they are good for us–they help us learn to be patient.”
Thank you, Phil, for your commentary on such a beautiful painting and the Rilke quotation.
Phil. your moving meditation has me imaging all of us on that boat, maybe a bigger boat. The waters still choppy, fog heavy; still lonely, still small in the grand scheme of this mess. But we are together. Thank you for your view of that brilliant orange dot–catching even its hints scattered over the sea gives me hope for this night.
(The first part of that Rilke quote is in a small frame on my desk…What kindred spirit!)