An art lesson reveals pattern-making secrets of the Christian life
“Pattern yourselves after me as I imitate and follow Christ” (I Corinthians 11:1 Amplified Bible)
Last fall I began teaching art lessons to some little friends. Looking for a simple theme, I decided on leaves. We’ve been doing everything imaginable with them: printing, sketching, painting, and even cooking with them. Recently the girls coated the clean undersides of camellia leaves with different chocolates. Once set, each leaf was pulled away to reveal a veined and realistic chocolate copy. Brushed with gold dust, they looked pretty on cupcakes.
In each lesson, I search for a spiritual truth to share. For this occasion, I thought of Paul’s words to his friends in Corinth: “Pattern yourselves after me as I imitate and follow Christ” (I Corinthians 11:1 Amplified Bible). Paul was saying to his friends, “This is how you look like Christ—watch what I do and copy me. I’m following the example of Christ himself.” Disciples both imitate their teachers, as they see Christianity in practice, and they also follow Christ’s example in the Bible. Over time, the pattern or image of Christ becomes evident in their lives.
The chocolate leaves are a good example of how a pattern is formed. To get a good likeness, the chocolate has to be melted and creamy but not runny. In a similar way, for us to take on the pattern of Christ, we must be pliable and soft, yet with enough firmness to take an impression. Runny chocolate drips off, which reminds me of those who stick a little but lack interest in the long process of discipleship.
There are other similarities. The chocolate is smoothed with a small spoon across the underside of a leaf—where the veins are distinct—and left to harden. In a similar way, we get close to Christ in shadows and unseen places. Over time, the details of his life become noticeable in ours as we firm up. The likeness only happens to those up against him; those who keep their distance don’t pick up the details.
And finally, chocolate and leaves are not the same—the two are different in substance. At our best, we look similar to Christ but are only a pattern of him, an impression of his presence in us. We have our smudges, unevenness, and occasional chipped edges.
I hope the lessons will change the way the girls look at the world. Years from now, perhaps the intricacy, usefulness, and patterns of leaves will cause them to marvel at God. Leaves are everywhere, growing on the Arctic tundra and in ocean waters, on the edges of volcanoes and in Alpine meadows. They’re diverse. They can be huge, like those wonderful leaves on the Chinese parasol tree, or they can be tiny, like the little ones on the thyme I grow for the kitchen. They can be as hard as the needles of a spruce tree or as plush as lamb’s ear. Leaves are depicted in paintings and on fabric, and their shapes appear in architecture and on decorative objects. Leaves are in food, medicine, and landscapes. When you begin to think about the variety of textures, sizes, and shapes, it’s not long before a sense of wonder takes hold.
Art and leaves. A simple approach, yes—an anchor to the natural world. In the coming years, when other kids set out for an adventure with a selfie stick and phone—expecting nature to serve their purposes—I hope my girls will go with a walking stick and sketchbook, expecting nature to show them God. It’s easy to make a sunset or snowy mountain the backdrop of our story, but the truth is, we’re all in the backdrop—the context—of his story. All around us are living patterns and lessons about a divine imagination.
Equipped with curiosity, there’s just no telling what they’ll find.