The Now and Not Yet
An exhibition based on dialogue between David Arms and Lloyd Shadrach
Bennett Galleries – Nashville, Tennessee | November 2006
I live in the “now.” I long for the “not yet.”
For years my work has been about the task of portraying hope – lighting a candle in the midst of darkness – offering a visual reminder of this hope. Now I have the desire to see what it looks like to live life with this hope, to apply it to the “day to day.” I want to see how it shows up in my life and my relationships. It is through my family and friends that I receive my daily glimpses of hope and once again I thank my friend and pastor, Lloyd Shadrach, for walking this walk with me and sharing dialogue on which this show is based.
For now, my soul remains restless until my hope is fulfilled – when my hope becomes reality and the coming “not yet” becomes my forever “now.”
Constant Cleansing
Constant Cleansing
Lloyd:
In the Bible, “water” is often used as a symbol for life. Israel walked through water from bondage to life. God made bitter water sweet in the wilderness. And, Jesus said “drink of me” and you will find life. The water in the painting rolls and swells and washes over me…reminding me I am pure, cleansed and washed of all that separates me from God…that I might have life with God.
David:
Recently, at Center Hill Lake, I was able to sit alone for an extended period of time watching and photographing the water. Not only was I refreshed, but I was soothed and calmed. There was nothing I could do to stop the flow. I didn’t want to stop the flow. I embraced the flow – the constant reminder that minute by minute, day by day, I am cleansed, washed and purified.
Strength
Strength
David:
How fragile – Queen Anne’s Lace, eggs, butterflies. But yet they are able to withstand the storms of life. Have you noticed how this flower grows in the most unlikely places to be so delicate? Ditches, fence rows, neglected fields. By grace it is given the one thing it needs – roots that go deep, enabling it to absorb the nutrients necessary to survive.
Lloyd:
David and I were walking around Radnor Lake several months ago reflecting on the fact that all of creation sings of a great and glorious Creator. And, if we took the time and effort we would see it – in the dirt at our feet, the stick on the ground, the leaf on the tree or the reflection on the water. He decribed to me then that looking at Queen Anne’s Lace made him see the arms of each branch raised heavenward, outstretched as if in adoration. When you really do look at this painting…you can hear it sing.
The Then, The Now and The Not Yet
The Then, the Now And The Not Yet
David:
As you have probably noticed, there is a vintage element in almost every painting in this show. I use these to portray the significance of reconciling the past – to be able to put it in its proper place and the rest in that in the present. I want to find peace in knowing that our hope is not in what has been, but in what is to come.
Lloyd:
It seems that I spend a great deal of energy and time trying to forget the past, or not worry about the future, and in my flurry to do both of these, I often miss the “now.” How is it that these hummingbirds sit on the past and are confident in the future, such that they can be still in the now?
My Soul Waits
My Soul Waits
David:
This was the first painting in the show. Time was passing quickly and the painting had not begun. I was waiting for the pieces of the puzzle to fall into place but it was not happening according to my schedule. When I am waiting, it is so difficult to rest in Him. It is like watching a feather fall. How slow can it go? How long will it take? No matter how hard I try, it seems I will never learn that my timing is not necessarily the best timing. Imagine that.
Lloyd:
The two words “alone” and “silent” are the walls within which our waiting occurs. As much as they would like, others can’t enter fully into my seasons of waiting. And the silence, when it lingers, can make the wait almost unbearable. I’ve never heard a feather drop.
Freedom
Freedom
Lloyd:
Why is it that if we are willing to take a look at the baggage of our past, that generally we are willing only to “crack” it open? A part of me wants to reach down and just throw the lid all the way back. And part of me doesn’t. I don’t know that we can take the past all at once.
David:
Baggage is heavy. The longer we carry it, the heavier it is. We have usually carried it for so long that it is old and worn, but we won’t let it go. We are not asked nor expected to carry this baggage – it just seems easier to carry it than to let it go. But if we lay it down, let the lid be cracked open, light will penetrate and we are able to float on the wings of freedom. This painting isn’t so much about the baggage – it is about freedom – freedom that is available to us all if we will just look to the light.
The Provider
The Provider
Lloyd:
I know that these birds cannot live without God feeding them. And as I grow older, I am becoming more and more aware that I too cannot live unless God feeds me…not red berries…but hope.
David:
When we think of provisions, we tend to think of things such as food or shelter. But without our greatest provision – hope – all others are in vain.
Eternity
Eternity
Lloyd:
David has surprised me with this painting. That is my mom in her late teens with her mother near a hot spring where she grew up in Japan. Today she is 77 and Dementia/Alzheimers is slowly taking her away. They call it “the long goodbye.” Those characters at the top are Japanese for “eternity.” Now, if the goodbye were forever…I’m not sure I could take it. But the reality of the cross, which she has embraced, tells me that our long goodbye “now” will be followed by a forever embrace in the “not yet.” I live today with that hope.
Last Supper
Last Supper
Lloyd:
I absolutely love sharing a meal with friends. So does Jesus. In fact, when I am eating with friends, I don’t want it to end. Neither did Jesus. Every meal with Him “now” reminds me that I will eat with Him and friends forever in the future.
Innocence
Innocence
David:
Innocence is a beautiful thing. It is precious. It is to be cherished. It is short lived. And still the world tries to rush it and not protect it – and it must be protected. Savor it, wrap your arms around it and embrace it.
Serving Pieces
Serving Pieces
David:
These serving pieces have such an appeal to me – not only for their beauty, but for their purpose. They are not made to remain on a shelf as an ornament, but to be used. They are not made to remain empty, but to be filled. They are not made to remain filled, but to give to others that with which they have been filled. Like us, each is individual, beautiful and fragile. Our true beauty is in that rich patina that can only be achieved by being used – used in service to others.
Lloyd:
I think about the history of this serving platter. It’s empty now, but what has it carried? On what occasions? And to whom? Certainly it has seen seasons of sadness and seasons of joy. Service is always needed in both. And what of my own life of service? It is the sense of being “poured out” that catches me when I see this pitcher. Fruit tumbling, rolling, pouring out…the pitcher tilted, because the fruit would not pour out on its own. Service is like that – we have to “lean forward” to give life to others.
Faithfulness
David:
While on a silent retreat this summer, I had a difficult evening when the quiet and loneliness had set in. It was heavy. It was intense. I was sitting on the deck in the back of the house when suddenly a summer tanager flew up and landed on the railing right in my face. Brilliant red! For as long as I have loved birds, I had never seen one of these. It was beautiful. It stared at me long enough to change my anxiety to joy and then flew away. On another evening during that same retreat, I was having another moment of unrest and anxiety. And guess what flew up and landed on that railing? A summer tanager. I may never see another one of these birds again, but it is now my personal symbol for God’s faithfulness – His gentle reminder saying “I am here.”
Life is Brief, Life is Eternal
Lloyd:
I see the scarlet thread of redemption winding and wrapping its way into and flowing out of an empty vessel. A vessel that must receive that thread and all that it entails, unable on its own to fill itself.
David:
I come as an empty vessel, but I open wide to receive that incredible gift of grace – the grace that will take me home.
The Best Day of My Life
David:
This is a paper my oldest daughter wrote in third grade after being given the opening line. It astounded my wife and me. It is so innocent and pure. She loves her life in the “now” but seems to have such a confidence in the “not yet.” So often, she seems to see and understand so much that I cannot. If only my faith could be like that of a child.
Lloyd:
It’s not just the words on paper and what those words say to me. It is the gawky, stiff, clumsy size and shapes of the letters themselves, reminding me that children probably have a clearer picture of what God has in store for us than any adult sensibilities can conceive.
Empty
David:
We come as empty vessels. Nothing to give – only able to receive. I just want to remain wide open, ready to take in the good gifts which are abundant and ever flowing – the gifts that can only come from above.
Lloyd:
The beauty of emptiness. How can that be? When you are empty, all you have to offer is your emptiness. This only makes sense if God, at the very core of who He is, is an unconditional giver. And He is!
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