No Great Master |

by Laura Fischer
April 22, 2014

At our last meeting for Children of the Wells, I volunteered to write the blog for Easter weekend. It seemed like a subject that would be rife with ideas, and I thought I might be able to write something about my involvement with the Easter program at my church or something. But once I actually started thinking about what to write for this blog, I was stymied. Nothing that occurred to me seemed at all interesting or unique. What can I say about Easter that hasn’t been said a million times before?

For one thing, Easter is…huge. It’s just huge. It’s the most holy, the most sacred day for Christians. As countless preachers and priests and Sunday School teachers have taught their disciples over and over again, it’s the best news in the history of the universe. Jesus isn’t dead. He’s alive. And because of that, those who accept the gift of His salvation in humble penitence can have no more fear of sin and death. It’s a story that has been told in thousands of ways over thousands of years, and deservedly so. What poor words can I add to the immensity of this cosmic history, this epic comedy, this grand narrative that reaches from the beginning of time and on until the end of it? My offerings are few and pitiful in the face of this glory.

My church’s Sunday School Easter program was last Sunday. My contribution for that was in helping to adapt an anecdote that preachers like to tell into a ten-minute drama, then directing it (as well as playing piano for a few songs). The anecdote is about a father who loses his son to war, then receives a painting of his son which he instantly prizes above all others, even though he owns pieces of art worth millions of dollars.

In the second scene of the story, the man dies and his collection of art is brought to be sold at auction. Art collectors from around the world have gathered to bid on priceless works. Then, these rich and powerful people are shocked when the first painting presented is not a Rembrandt or Monet or Picasso, but that painting of the man’s son, created by an amateur no one has ever heard of.

The line I put into the mouth of one of the bidders was this: “Who painted that? It was no great master.”

Funnily enough, it’s that line, of the entire program, which has stuck with me the most profoundly. Who made that? It was no great master. The same can certainly be said of any of my creative works, including that little drama, and certainly including everything I’ve written for this website. Many of my writings have been worked on and even finished without anyone else seeing them, because I fear that no one will value my work. As I write this, two projects are waiting in my hard-drive to be published, and I continually talk myself out of setting them free because I’m afraid of them being rejected or ignored by the world at large.

The father in the story valued that amateur painting far higher than anything else he owned. When the painting is finally sold, for the princely sum of ten dollars, the auctioneer declares the auction over, to the shock and horror of the bidders. The explanation? “Whoever takes the son, gets it all.”

The application is obvious to anyone who has grown up in the church. Whoever accepts Jesus as their savior also receives…well, everything. Life and light and joy, not just in heaven but now and always.

Now, though, I am becoming aware of a less obvious lesson in the story. “Who painted that? It was no great master.” Yet that poor piece of art was highly valued by the father, because it was a gift of humility and love, the best thing the giver had to give.

So let me also be aware, now and always, that my poor pieces of art are also prized by my Father, even if they are flawed and lowly, even if they do not glow with the touch of a master artisan. Even if, perhaps, they are not always created with Him in mind.

I am created in His image, and so I bear an imprint of His creativity. May I always use it in His honor. It’s a lesson I would do well to remember.