Trespass

  “Give us this day our daily bread and forgive our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not unto temptation but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.” Mat 11-13

 

  “When you enter the home, give it your blessing. If it turns out to be a worthy home, let your blessing stand; if it is not, take back the blessing. If any household or town refuses to welcome you or listen to your message, shake its dust from your feet as you leave.” Mat 10:12-14 (Thank You, Lord, I needed to hear that.)

 

   The black outline of painting number 16 lay in stark contrast against the white paper. Not knowing how long this journey will continue, I pondered the idea of having the black and white image photocopied onto some sort of heavy paper suitable for paint. I laughed at this foolishness when the words, “That’s cheating!” came through bold as the image before me.

  It would be cheating. Tracing the image and painting the outline draws me into stillness. Taking a short cut would cheat God of time spent before Him. It would steal the time needed to settle into the process so I can hear His voice.

  Using the hair dryer is ok. (Smile.) It prevents my patient labours from getting smudged and blurred. The painting is completed by touching up the places where my brush decided to wander, to trespass into places it didn’t belong.

  The two I’ve been using are at the end of their life. The brushes aren't overly expensive so the bristles begin to splay and break. It takes time to get to know a new brush and its personality. No two are the same.

 

  Hour after hour was spent walking the fence line on the farm. It was old, falling down, and not very good at keeping cows in. I patched it with fencing wire, old gates, ancient cedar rails, tree branches, anything to try and keep the cows on the property.

  As we could afford, we began installing a patchwork of new posts and wire. We wanted to top the fence with barbed wire to prevent the cows from damaging the new fencing.

  The post installer said it was hard to find. A lot of manufacturers had quit making it because demand had declined over the years.

  “Mostly,” the post guy said, “it’s because if someone climbs over the barb wire fence and gets hurt, the landowner is responsible. Even if there are, “No Trespassing” signs posted.”

  If cows get on the road and a car hits one, the farmer is responsible for that, too.

  I feel like a barbed wire fence right now.

  My Houdini cows ended up well trained. All it took was a finger pointing at home accompanied by the almost daily, angry and frustrated yell, “Get the f---- back over there!” They looked like ungainly show ponies as they jumped back over the non-barbwire fence. I could almost hear them laughing.

 I put up some barbed wire fencing a few days ago, finally stating I wanted nothing more to do with my brother. Twice I was told it was not very forgiving to cut him out of my life like that.

  It stings.

  It has sown seeds of doubt and confusion.

  It has Compliancy screaming at me for screwing up the status quo.

  It has Subservience demanding I meet another’s desire that we all get along and stay connected like "we always have."

 God knows, I can no longer deceive them or sustain the illusion. The cost is too high. I have given enough.

  Even writing that last sentence stings. Have I?

  Maybe not, but Cricket has. The barbed wire isn’t around my heart; it is because I believe she is worth protecting. 

  If my heart was wrapped in barbed wire, I wouldn’t have felt sad about having to do this. I mourn the reasons a boundary is needed in the first place. I regret having to shake the dust from my sandals even though it must be done.

  Wearing heavy work gloves doesn't prevent barbed wire from slicing your hands to ribbons when you put up the fence. Until you learn how to handle it safely. 

 

  It is a sin to continue living a lie now that I know truth. Compliancy must be discarded despite her unnerving, constant and violent outrage. She is not who God had in mind when He designed my being. Someone else’s paintbrush coloured her in until she learned how to do it for herself.

  That’s a sin, too, denying/squashing/oppressing the person God made me to be. His revelation cannot be denied. Denial permits external trespassers and internal trespassers to conspire together to destroy the beautiful artwork the Master painted on our soul.  (To tie it into todays image, they cut the lock rather than finding a key. Trespassers are never concerned that it cannot be used again. A broken lock makes it easier to break in next time. It's very comforting to know that God is more than an artist, He is a goldsmith.)

  I ask God to forgive me for my part. Please, forgive those who taught me I was limited to the colours they chose. Help me continue to forgive them even more.

  Forgive me, too, my Lord, for being an art vandal.

  Thank You for providing me with new brushes. Jesus has had them waiting to be picked up for a long time; from the moment He paid for them with His life.