The Butterfly on the Wall

I walked into the room of the local art center, excited.

     My Mom and I were passing by and had stopped in to see an exhibit full of fellow high schoolers' artwork. I couldn’t wait to see what was hanging on the walls. I hadn’t connected with any fellow artists in a while—or even seen their artwork, as I was about to do now—and I finally had something to compare myself to. Maybe I would pick up another idea, or something would spark my interest in a different medium. Frankly, I just love looking at other people’s artwork, no matter their ability. Whether it’s the five-year-old that I babysit or the sketches of Alan Lee.  

     When I stopped to look at the first picture, however, I was a little confused. After a moment or two, I moved on and felt even more confused. Soon it wasn’t just confusion, but disbelief and horror. Had I walked into the right room? How could this be the art—the thoughts and the loves—of kids my own age all over my town? How could this—the blood, the skulls, the empty eyes and the humans in agony—be the type of thing that teenagers were thinking about?! Being a young adult can be emotionally difficult, I get it, but did this really help?

      It didn’t take long for me to start to feel sick. I couldn’t believe I’d just walked into all this expecting to see beauty. I had been hoping for a new way of looking at things, though. And it sure was that. I was looking at something that God had created for pleasure, but man had twisted into horror.

     I was ready to leave when a picture caught my eye. I walked over, a little caught off guard by the difference between it and all the other pictures in the room. The picture was of a butterfly. It was simple. It was minimalistic. And it shone like the sun. To top it all off, the beautifully winged creature was surrounded by Bible verses, the references of Scripture boldly sticking out in the dark room. This girl had drawn something simple. It most likely hadn’t taken long. But it was easily the most uplifting thing there. Though I had almost missed it, I couldn’t look at anything else once I’d seen it. The butterfly on the wall was the light in that dark room. 

      I haven’t forgotten that experience and I pray I never shall, for it reminded me (and reminds me every time I think of it) why we create art. We, as Christians, create art to share our hope with people who have none. We create art to show people that there is such a thing as hope, and, hopefully, we are able to share where that may be found. And while our art will never be perfect because we are marred human beings, if we create with the right intentions, I believe that God will use our art to share true beauty.

     Unfortunately, the Enemy also realizes the power of art as a way of expression. He has turned it into a way to outpour grief, terror and despair. That is why, in this darkening world, we must never stop creating. And never stop creating for Jesus. In His Sermon on the Mount, He said, “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden…let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” Matthew 5:14-16. (ESV.)

     Any art: music, writing, painting, drawing, dancing etc. can be used to bring glory to God. It shares beauty and points people to the real Hope. So use your art to be that city on the hill. 

     Use it to be the butterfly on the wall.