Imperfections and Intercessory Drawing

Brace yourselves, this post gets weird. 

I have this sketchbook. This sketchbook went to Spain with me and became a scrapbook of sorts. I drew in it on occasion, but much more often, I wrote in it or taped in pictures or knickknacks or mementos to help me remember my time in Spain. In fact, the Spain portion of the book is a pretty accurate portrayal of culture shock and homesickness. 

Whenever I did draw, it was always visual representations of how I was feeling. 

This one is how I felt when I left the U.S.; as if there was a clean hole where my heart should have been.

  

This one came from an entire week of feeling this terrible sense of dread everywhere I went. 

Continually crashing into someone's self-made walls...

This one is perhaps the best visual representation of how I felt during my semester abroad.

So those ones were all from during my time in Spain. I didn't use my sketchbook nearly as often once I got back to the States, probably because I had other outlets available to me. I didn't do any drawing in my book for over a year. Then, about two weeks ago, I started drawing again. It wasn't the raw emotional drawing I had done before; mostly just ideas for the apartment and sketches of designs I'd like to decorate with. 

Then one night, this little guy flowed out through my pencil. 

I can tell you right now that this drawing was born out of several weeks in a row of engagement notices every few days from friends of mine. As happy as I am for them that they have found the person they want to spend their lives with, it serves to remind me that I haven't found that person. That person that is completely right for me. This drawing is of two people holding the "heart" of the other. That's how I feel right now. Like I'm holding onto a piece of someone else and desperately searching for that person who has the piece of me. 

Then, a few nights later, this little gem came out...

Now here's where it gets weird. I've never felt this emotion. Sure, I have a few OCD-like tendencies, but never have I felt compelled to measure the distances between my books and notebooks and pens and the edges of the desk. I've never felt compelled to wash my hands because I couldn't cope with an obsessive thought. I've never experienced the seemingly endless task of arranging one's life perfectly in order to stave off anxiety and a sense of doom. 

But while I was drawing, I did feel all of those things. During the last twenty-four hours, I've been trying to think of a way to describe what exactly went on during the time I was drawing. I can only describe it as intercessory drawing. 

You've heard of intercessory prayer, right? From what I've experienced, intercession happens when a person puts themselves into the place of the person they are praying for and opens him- or herself up to feel the emotions, pain, and struggles that that person is feeling. From that weak place, the intercessor can more adequately pray for the person. I've been learning how to do it ever since a spiritual gifts survey from church told me I had the gift of intercession. 

Anyway, as I was drawing, I unconsciously put myself in the place of the girl I was drawing, with her ruler in hand, trying in vain to align her books and pencils just so, failing miserably, but doing it anyway. I don't think I was drawing for myself. I think I was drawing for someone else. At the end, I wondered if there might be someone for whom this drawing conveyed the emotion inside of her. 

Maybe by me putting this picture up here, you will be affected by it. Maybe you'll see it and think, Yeah, I can identify with that girl, trying to make her life perfect but failing. I know I've tried it. I always think that if I can just control some of the aspects of my life, more and more of it will fall into perfect place. If you've been reading this blog at all, you'll know that my life is never in its perfect place. But where's the need for a perfect God and His perfect love if I've already got a perfect life? 

The imperfect catches the eye not simply because it is not perfect, but because it is determined to prove its worth anyway. There is beauty in imperfection. It is less obvious, but more rewarding. More meaningful. More real. 

If you're struggling today to be perfect, spoiler alert: you can't do it alone. God will make you perfect, but it takes time. His time, not ours. Let the beauty of your imperfections shine anyway. I'll try to do it too.