While women have historically been bound by family obligations, household chores, or desperate poverty, there have been monasteries throughout history that allowed some to focus on their vocation without those typical pressures.
When I learned that white evangelical women are drawing and painting all over their Bibles, I was caught between judging and celebrating the phenomenon.
Should I let my child color pictures of Jesus on the cross?
How can God speak through what is soft and breakable? How can we?
Some painters mesmerize me. Albert Pinkham Ryder, Mark Rothko, and Georges Rouault, for example. Their work glows, albeit in different ways. Yet it’s Rouault I continue to follow. Why Rouault?
It is extraordinary to hear a song reverberating off stonewalls and then dissipate into thin air. The soaring beauty of ephemeral art! Sometimes I find myself holding my breath as the soloist hits a high note or that incredibly awkward person tells his testimony. Do we appreciate that moment? Because many of us are conductors of that symphony, curators of beauty and we don’t realize the importance of our position.
"Revival" usually implies a preacher with great oratory skills. Nashville's Downtown Presbyterian stokes something different.
At a historical art exhibit, I read that the images on display were intended for private devotion. Would it have been subversive of me to pray?