Art as a Portal to Seeing God

I was having headaches everyday after school. It was junior high so there are lots of reasons to have headaches. It turns out, I was squinting because I could not see the blackboard clearly.

This was the early 1970’s, and glasses were definitely not cool. Still, I needed to see sharply and so in Jan Brady style, my first pair of glasses were a cool wire-rimmed gold octagon shape.

The lens we look through makes a difference in how we see. Our sight could be narrow or wide open, fuzzy or sharply focused, tender or ruthless, and much in between. This is true whether we are looking at our own gifts or mistakes, our family, our neighbor, world news, national politics, or who God is.

When it comes to seeing Someone as big, mysterious and beautifully Other as God, we need ways to open our eyes and let our guard down do we can let more of him in. We may even have to look at him slant in order to see more deeply.

This is where music, movies, architecture, nature, paintings, sculpture, photography, poetry, and art of every kind has the potential to help us connect with God in fresh, deep, faceted and surprising ways.

Art has a way of touching more than our minds and helps us speak in images, feelings, and textures.

Here are few paintings to rest your eyes on.

Take your time and open your heart.

“Flowers for the Pulpit” Robert Gwathmey (1903-1988)

“Arran” Phil Greenwood (1943 -present)

Author’s photo of “Tears of Christ” by Mako Fujimura at Gonzaga University Exhibit.

Architecture is another portal to seeing God, one that is often overlooked. Perhaps not missed in European cathedrals with Gothic arches and the Gospel stories in stained glass windows. Certainly, those are beautiful and make us look up. But we also have an opportunity to see and encounter our good and beautiful God in humble everyday architecture like our towns, homes, and farms in their surroundings.

I am particularly fond of farmhouses, old barns in fields, porches of all kinds, and smiling dormer windows. These scenes remind me of living in Holland as a child and help me see God’s sheltering ways, his provision, and his loving eye on me, his sparrow, wherever I fly. City lights, bridges, and gardens also speak to me of God’s light, humble friendship and endless creativity.

Here are a couple of images with architecture that invite us to pause and see God among us in everyday life.

“Saintes Maries de la Mer” by Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890)

A friend’s garden. Photo by Terri Conlin

Old barn with a chicken coop. Photo by Terri Conlin.

Looking at art as a way to see God is not to be hurried. It is a slow work.

This kind of seeing invites us to stop our fast-moving life and pay attention to color, light, texture, pattern, movement, and setting. And any emotions that rise when we quiet and focus our gaze. I tend to want to move too quickly to meaning-making, but this kind of holy seeing called visio divina, takes time and tending. It takes lingering, something we make time for in spiritual direction.

Of course, we can simply enjoy our moment with art and move on. Not a single thing wrong with that.

Delight is one of God’s dreams for us.

But in visio divina our lingering and imagining opens up another layer of seeing. God wants to be known and befriended. Given the time, space and attention, he will be seen and known in some deeper way.