Art to Heart Prayer of Petition

Vincent van Gogh: Starry Night

©2002 by Jeff Dugan

Have you ever seen a real  night sky that looked like van Gogh's Starry Night?  I hope not!  So why would an artist paint the sky this way?  Perhaps I can answer that with another question.  When you're happy, why do you sing instead of speak?  Or when you're in love, why do you speak of roses and honey?  When we do these things, we, too are artists; we're using something that goes beyond a mere clinical, scientific description in order to communicate our feelings more powerfully than straightforward words can.  So consider for a moment that van Gogh might not have been hallucinating on the night he painted this.  Maybe he felt something so powerful that he had to go beyond the familiar to express it.

I hope I'm not telling you something new, but reminding you of something you already know as I describe the experience of being outside at night under a crystal clear sky.  There may be a hint of crispness in the air that makes everything seem clean and refreshing.  It's the kind of night we imagine when we think of a chorus of angels singing to frightened shepherds.  So you look up, perhaps to see if the angels really are there.  And suddenly you see the sky like you've seldom seen it before.  It's not just the same old sky tonight.  Instead, the blackness is a deep, rich, velvet blue that is more bottomless than any ocean.  The stars are not spots of light but brilliant, magical diamonds that dance and twirl like tiny ballerinas.  In just this special moment, the sky is somehow alive, and it seems to speak to you silently about the meaning of infinity.  Oh, how wonderful it would be if you could preserve this moment, so you could return to it again and again!

Can you begin to see why this is such a famous and well-loved image?

But there's more here than that.  Van Gogh painted this while he was held in the grip of a debilitating disease.  We can imagine that he frequently battled the fear that he would never escape his prison to true freedom.  We can imagine his battle because each of us has faced our own personal prison, whether it be disease, the loss of a loved one, financial woes, addiction, or any of the troubles that make us wonder whether God knows of our suffering; whether He will ever truly deliver us from affliction.  In such moments it is tempting to collapse in hopelessness.

Looking at this painting, I imagine van Gogh in just such a moment of despair, when he is struck by the memory of one of those amazing night skies.  He recalls the sense that he is not alone; that there is a living, infinite, loving God who sees us and knows us by name.  A God whose awesome creation reminds us, sometimes, that He has never left our side. 

And so the sky swirls across the canvas full of vitality and power that speaks of His presence.  The stars don't just sparkle; they explode in radiance.  Looking closer, we notice that the earth itself seems to respond to the movement in the heavens, forming its own living waves in the mountains and the rolling trees beneath them.  In the sleepy village, the windows of the houses glow with the same light that illuminates the universe.  The church steeple in the center seems to struggle to point to God, who is so alive in this scene.  But the little church is dwarfed by the cypress trees at the left, which seem to capture the joy of the inhabited creation around them by erupting in a living flame of praise.

Will you join me in prayer?

Lord, there is much that troubles us, but we thank you first for the tremendous message of hope we find in the world around us.   Even in the midst of our problems, we can look around us and find evidence that you have heard your people cry, and that you have already acted to calm our fears, heal our hurts, and to dry our tears.  Having experienced your comforting presence before, we turn to you again, seeking your loving embrace.

(At this point, the worship leader may lead the congregation in a prayer or a litany of specific petitions appropriate to the specific congregation and service.)

amen.