outsider art

Yesterday evening I enjoyed a conversation with my beloved which piqued some reflection about my identity. I've often considered myself a "jack of all trades but a master of none"; in essence, no one really knew what to do with me: the jocks received me as a left-side hitter and forward only, the intellectuals were suspicious of me until I sat next to them in literature and philosophy classes, and the artists tolerated my non-vibrato alto and amateur photography skills.

Even though I was welcomed into various circles, I quickly got the sense I didn't belong--and often not on account of its members. Belonging to a group often required an emphasis on certain characteristics and a subsequent reduction of others. At the door of acceptance, I flashed my credentials and with a nod was asked to abandon the undesirables to enter.

I've been contemplating the Creator-creation relationship in conjunction with my outsider status, and I realize that every group or human relationship I entrust my identity to will leave me marred because the holders don't truly know or love me in the way my Maker does. There is a special relationship between an artist and his work that cannot be replicated in even a marriage or close familial bond.

The Artist knows every detail, imperfection, and strength of his work, and the art he makes does not reflect its own glory or take pride in the reviews of critics. The art reflects the creativity, purpose, and love of its Creator; I take comfort in knowing I will never understand the mysteries of others, nor will they ever fully understand mine. They are reserved for the Artist.

"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."

-Psalm 139: 13-14 (ESV)