Learning to See

Art has always been a part of my life—and it began with my mom.  My mom is an artist, and she taught me how to see. Not just to glance at something and move on, but to slow down, to notice, to pay attention to color, texture, feeling. She helped me understand that art isn’t just about what’s in front of you—it’s about what happens inside of you when you encounter it.  Because of her, I’ve carried that way of seeing with me wherever I go.

I remember walking through the Museum Brandhorst in Munich, Germany and coming face to face with Campbell’s Soup Cans by Andy Warhol.  At first, I did not see the appeal—rows and rows of soup cans. It felt so ordinary. But the longer I stood there, the more it drew me in. It made me think about everyday life, about repetition, about what we value and why. It wasn’t just about the cans—it was about what they stirred in me.

And then there was another moment, in a very different place.  Standing in the Louvre Museum, in the heart of Paris, surrounded by centuries of history and beauty.  There I saw the Mona Lisa — smaller than I expected, yet somehow holding the attention of everyone in the room. And I saw the Statue of David — so strong, so detailed, so alive in a way that’s hard to describe.

Two completely different experiences.  Two completely different kinds of art.  And yet, both moments reminded me of what my mom had been teaching me all along:  Art is not just something you look at.  It is something you experience.

And that brings me back to this quote that I read recently:  “It is the viewer of the artist’s work who finishes the work.”

Because the soup cans in Munich don’t mean the same thing to everyone.  The Mona Lisa doesn’t speak the same way to every person.  David doesn’t evoke the same feeling in every heart.  The artist creates.  But the viewer completes.  And I can’t help but think about how true that is when it comes to Jesus.

There are so many images of Jesus—through art, through scripture, through tradition. Each one offers us something, but none of them are the whole picture.  Because Jesus is not just meant to be seen.  Jesus is meant to be encountered.  And when we encounter Jesus, we bring everything with us—just like my mom taught me to do with art. Our questions. Our experiences. Our joys. Our wounds.  Some days we see comfort.  Some days we see challenge.  Some days we see grace in ways we didn’t expect.

And maybe that’s the invitation.  To keep looking.  To keep noticing.  To keep allowing what we see to shape who we are becoming.

I’m grateful—for my mom, who first taught me how to see… for the moments around the world that deepened that vision… and for a Savior who continues to meet us in ways that are personal, powerful, and still unfolding.  Because the work isn’t finished.  Not in the gallery.  Not in the sanctuary.  Not in us.  It continues—every time we pause, every time we look, and every time we allow God to meet us right where we are.  See you Sunday!

Peace, Pastor Tracy