In the Bible studies recently, we have been looking at John’s words on light and darkness and truth and lies. (1 John 1:5-7; 1 John 2:3-11, 1 John 2:21-23) I was recently struck by a lyric in Rend Collective’s song ‘Joy‘: ‘the dark is just a canvas for Your grace and brightness.’ So often, when we pass through dark times, we feel afraid and abandoned, but we really see light best when there has been darkness; the contrast makes the light even more amazing to us.

Last week I visited the Millennium Gallery in Sheffield, a free museum of art, craft and design that celebrates Sheffield’s stainless steel heritage through some wonderful exhibits and sculptures. At the moment, there is also an exhibition on printmaking which runs until 15th June. (You can view some of these here, but  you really need to see the full size prints to appreciate them!) Printmaking is the process of making artwork through printing and incorporates etching, lithography, engraving, mezzotint, aquatint, monotype and monoprint and there were examples of these different art forms from a variety of Sheffield artists on display. To say I was bedazzled is probably an understatement. The variety and scope of work on display were amazing.

My favourite artist in that section was Neil Woodall, whose landscape prints of scenes were object lessons in light and darkness. There were three prints on exhibit and a video explaining how the first was made. (You can watch the video here.) The scenes were ordinary: trees, sunlight shining through trees or on water, birds flying. There would be no point posting a photograph of them here, for the size and quality I could give you could not capture the nuances and movement captured in those prints. Even the prints visible on his website are pale comparisons of the real thing.

From all this, I learnt that printmaking is a messy business! His workshop looks like my worst nightmare: big machines, toxic chemicals, ink-stained hands. I watched him painstakingly re-shape work: intricate, delicate, finicky work that seemed at odds with the size of the equipment he was using. I saw the labour involved: turning the huge wheel to press the image of the metal plate onto the paper. I saw the precision, the care, the re-working which was necessary. I saw his quiet satisfaction at the finished product. I no longer wondered about the price tag on that product when I saw what had gone into creating it!

I learnt so much from that time. The closer you got to the print, the less impressive it looked. It was, after all, an object lesson in light and dark, in black and white. No colours on this print, no distractions from the creation simply from light and shade. Close up, it looked like its component parts: blotches of ink and less ink in some places! But when viewed from the correct distance, the scene from God’s creation shone out in splendour.

Our lives are like this. Viewed close up, as we pick over the pieces of our choices and decisions, as we view our bodies in the mirror, they do not look promising. We see the blotches. We see the sin. We see how often we make the same mistakes, fall at the same hurdles, fail to love as we are loved. We become frustrated and feel helpless. There is so much mess. All we see is the mess.

But God is working in our lives, just as the artist works on those prints. There was no mess to be seen in the finished product. And the finished product, viewed from the right distance, was mesmerising, entrancing and so, so beautiful. So it will be with our lives: Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.’ (1 John 3:2)

Take heart. God’s not finished with us yet. (‘Create In Me,’ Rend Collective)