the ark
His calloused hands dropped the hammer to the ground. His arm was weary from swinging, his knees stiff from kneeling. He looked up. Wiping the sweat away from his forehead, he shook the sawdust out of his hair. What on earth am I doing, he wondered. What on earth am I doing. I've chopped and quarter-sawed an entire forest, dragged the timbers up the side of this mountain. I've routed and planed and chipped and tarred and bored holes. I've lifted and dragged and hoisted. What on earth am I doing- I'm building a big boat. On the side of a mountain. On the side of a big, dry mountain, I'm building an ark, miles away from any water. And, I'm bringing my family, my sons, along for the ride.
Noah paused. He shook a bead of sweat off the tip of his nose. Where would the water come from?
He picked up his hammer, a nail, and with one heavy blow drove it deep into the wood, the smell of cedar released by the blow.
Where would the water come from? Would the water come from the sky? There's no such thing as water from the sky. Our water comes like dew, covers the earth every morning. Water never falls from the sky, we have no word for such a thing.
Jehovah Jireh... I'm building your boat, you will provide the water.
Another nail.
Another.
Here is my five foot by eight foot canvas, which I assembled today. I've dreamed of doing this painting for eight years. It will be the largest canvas I've ever worked on. I will not be sharing the future aspects of the painting- the subject I am planning, where it will eventually be exhibited. I have to allow the narrative of this painting to unfold gradually, step by step, blow by blow, nail by nail, over the course of the upcoming year. I'm pleased to have you join me.
