It was my first trip to Amsterdam speaking for the WCA and I wanted to see some of the best the city had to offer. I was quickly caught up with its European splendor and beauty. Outdoor café’s and coffee shops, fabulous architecture, a vast array of shops and dazzling flowers along the canals and waterways, enclosed by Holland’s famous dikes.

I had asked the person who arranged my trip whether there was anything special I should see if time is limited. Two recommendations were offered. “You will want to see Anne Frank’s house, the hiding place where she and her family had been hidden from the terror of Nazi’s seeking to exterminate all Jews.”

“Oh, and if you like art, make sure you see the Rijksmuseum.”

I asked, “Is there any special work of art I should look for?”

“Don’t worry, you will know it when you see it,” was the reply.

I have seen 3 incredible works of art that literally took my breath away and left me simply frozen in awe. One is “Miracle at Pentecost,” the 124-foot-long painting of the coming of the Holy Spirit in Acts (unfortunately now destroyed by a fire that devastated the Biblical Arts Center in Dallas). Another is “The David” by Michelangelo in Florence (the original in the Academy Gallery, not the replica in the piazza).

In the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam I saw the third.

I cannot describe the rush of thoughts and feelings—words are inadequate. There it hung on the wall and all I could do was stare with disbelief and wonder. You know what I mean—something so beautiful and inspiring that you can’t get take your eyes off it, you can’t get it out of your mind.

I turned the corner, and entered a room. There before me was The Night Watch by Rembrandt. You might think, “No big deal. Just a painting from the 17th century.” Maybe you’re right – maybe it is just beautiful to me—like staring into the hospital nursery after your first child is born thinking, “WOW – look at my child! She makes everyone else’s kid look so pitifully ugly.”

The Night Watch produced a similar reaction because it dwarfs the rest of the artwork — in scope, grandeur and depth.

But the artwork has a story beyond the surface beauty.

Though beautiful, it was later feared the work would be further damaged by the effects of the elements. In order to protect its beauty, it was covered with a dark varnish. As a result, people thought is was a night scene and hence it’s name was changed. Actually it is a scene in broad daylight, and was originally named after the main character in the work. You can read the story if you have time.

The painting is famous for a few reasons – one, it is a dramatic example of the use of light and shadow. Second, it’s story — a masterpiece covered in thick darkness later revealed in the light of restoration.

Granted, the subject matter in this portrait does not hold the mystery and power of Rembrandt’s other biblically-based works (like Return of the Prodigal Son). Maybe that is what I like about it. The redemptive power is more subtle. It requires meditation to understand.

Another reason it catches your attention is that it does not simply hang on the wall–it virtually covers it. The painting was 13′ x 16′ in it’s original dimensions (still very close after some restoration). Its sheer size and scope causes even the casual observer to pause. You might stroll past other paintings in the gallery and hardly notice some of them. Not this one. Here you stand and stare in wonder.

I sat pondering for an hour, as I did with The David and The Miracle at Pentecost, wondering, “How can someone create something so captivating, so beautiful, so stunning, so filled with wonder?” I felt like an hour of staring at it did not do it justice — like only reading the first sentence of War and Peace.

It is hard to imagine but that is how we will look at God one day. Staring in awe and wonder. And in that moment we will discover that he has been staring at us long before we ever knew he existed. Like  Rembrandt, he envisioned a masterpiece, and then painstakingly applied his brush to our canvas. The results were… Perfect.

But later, after some rough handling, the corruption of the “elements” and layers of “protective varnish” to hide our true selves, our portrait sat covered in darkness. And then we were wrongly named — by what others saw on the outside.

But God, in his grace through Christ and with the power of his Spirit, broke through to the original and made us new, removing the thick darkness and exposing our Christ-like beauty. He gave us a new name; one that reflects the light. And someday, after all the work of restoration is complete, the unveling will come.

And we shall be like him. Priceless. We will not casually stroll past by any portraits in this eternal gallery. We will stare in awe at the work of the Artist. And all the beauty in the Rijksmuseum will pale in comparison.

Lord, remove the darkness that covers me, and let your light shine for all to see.


Post to Twitter Tweet This Post