Soul Painter

I have this great idea for a screenplay that I'll write some day, percolating in the back of my mind. It goes like this:

(Cue “Chariots of Fire”- inspired score)  

EARLY MORNING, 1906 INDIA:  A handsome young British soldier sits at a desk. On the stained wooden surface before him, colored inks bottles, pens, and paint brushes lay scattered about. He raises his sparkling eyes, and through tears of joy surveys an explosion of color and shapes dancing outside his window: brilliantly colored blooms of yellow Indian poppies, purple sweet peas, magnificent red poinsettias, and large jacaranda trees – the richly ornamented landscape of Bihar. He ponders how to present a gift worthy of his beautiful bride-to-be, Clara.

In the fertile mind of the groom, the true-life James S. Freemantle, an idea begins to form. He will carefully letter and paint his way through every word and phrase of all 150 Psalms – and he's not even a religious man. He just can’t find better poetry to present his love.

(Cue music change) - This isn’t exactly a 100-yard dash between Eric Liddell and Harold Abrahams. Much more like a marathon that will take a lifetime. Years of excursions, in and out of the army, produce more drawings: the Golden Temple of Amritsar, the sea villages and harbors of Turkey; evenings observing spectacular sunsets and bright moon risings. If his drawings are any indication, Freemantle especially enjoys Psalm 19:

“The heavens proclaim the glory of God; the skies display his craftsmanship. Day after day they continue to speak; night after night they make him known…God has made a home in the heavens for the sun. It bursts forth like a radiant bridegroom after his wedding…”  (19:1,5)

Perhaps the story of James Freemantle may never grace the silver screen. But the results of his years of passionate work now adorn the pages of a beautiful anthology of The Psalms of David, dedicated to “my beloved Clara.” A published copy now sits upon my nightstand - a gift from our dear friends, Joe and Janelle when we moved away five years ago. And each morning, between the teeth brushing and the coffee pot, I try to take in a new page.  

Miserable Psalms?

I confess, Clara wasn't the only beneficiary. I hadn't always loved the Psalms. As Dan Allender likes to say, our stereotypes and jokes have a way of revealing some "sprinkled contempt.":

“It's just like those miserable psalms, always so depressing..." (God, according to Monthy Python)

 
Hopelessness is depressing - we've all been there. But Freemantle’s story invites us to see more - much more. And when we look, we find the  Psalms to be rich, even over-flowing, in all expressions of the heart - a virtual “emotional outlet” for many a thirsty and joyful soul. From the depressed and lonely traveler who picks up a Gideon’s bible in a hotel room (and finds a kindred spirit in the lamenting psalmist), to the joyful choirs of the redeemed, who have tasted the precious sweet wine of grace (and are thankful to sing of it), the Psalms have it all.   

So think of it this way: if God asked you to paint an expression of your heart right now, with words, what would it look like? Would you default to the standard “I’m fine, we’re all good” that you give your neighbor or co-worker? Or would you see that God actually invites your picture to be real – even messy?

Take your morning’s sin of quarreling with a family member, just before you ran out the door for "more important things." David, the fellow-murderer of Psalm 51, has some words for you: “Have mercy on me O God, according to your unfailing love…”   

Or maybe you feel like you’re the only one in the world with an anxious heart as you ponder the future this afternoon? The Psalmist of 131 can relate, as he reflects on the tender “mothering” of our Father God who quiets us in his arms: “I don’t concern myself with matters too great…I have stilled and quieted myself as a small child on his mother’s lap.”

Or a surprise illness has you turning to the sweet comfort-pictures of Psalm 23 (a psalm for the living in the “shadow of death,” where “goodness and mercy” still pursue us because of a pursuing God). No wonder Calvin calls the Psalter “an anatomy of all parts of the soul.”

A More Glorious One

But as impressive as each Psalm is as a work of art in itself, and as a voice for our full and honest range of emotional expression and confession, the Psalms are aiming at more. And they ultimately do so by focusing our hope, as CS Lewis would say, “further up,” to a mysterious "Suffering Servant" who can relate to our deepest fear:

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Psalm 22:1)

The unfathomable part? This cry of utter dereliction from the cross is His, so that it does not have to be cried by you. And see how that cry is answered with a great word of hope from the Father:

"He has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; He has not hidden his face from Him but has listened to His cry for help." (22:24) 

Two Psalms later we read again of Him who has climbed the unclimbable mountain for us:

"Open up, ancient gates! Open up, ancient doors, and let the King of glory enter. Who is the King of glory? The Lord, strong and mighty; the Lord, invincible in battle." (24: 9)

There is Gospel (good news), entwined like one of Freemantle's flowering vines, all through the Psalms, richly set in poetry and song. The laments are plentiful: I can’t get to God, for I am unworthy, sick, harassed, and helpless. But the hope is overflowing (like the cup of Psalm 23): Christ is my Conquering Warrior, Redeemer, Wonderful Counselor, and Friend, who was forsaken for me. In doing so, He defeated my greatest enemies, sin and death, at the cross. But His Father did not abandon Him to the grave; He was raised, and then He actually leads me in his train of spoils all the way and through the gates to God Himself. 

In this way, the Psalms reveal a God who invites us to pour out our hearts - often best expressed in poetry - for though we are bought, we are still in a battle. But wonderfully, they don't only give us words - they point us to a greater hope outside of ourselves. This hope is powerful, for it connects to Somone greater than me, transforming our culture's tendency toward “self-esteem and me above all things.” As Lewis writes in Mere Christianity:

"Look for yourself and you will find in the long run only find hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ [everywhere, and in the Psalms] and you'll find Him, and with everything else thrown in."

Christ is the true Bridegroom, the Lover of our souls, the Sun around which we were meant to orbit.

James Freemantle finished Psalm 150 in 1934 - the year he died. After a lifetime of beautiful pictures reflecting a glorious God, he penned these final words:

"Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord." (150:6)

Here at the end of the Psalms, we see the only fitting response to an Amazing God. Hmmm.... maybe I should write that screenplay after all.