Hearts Painted by the Word Again and Again
The job of painting the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco is never-ending. I heard once that they paint it end-to-end, but by the time they get to the end—however many years that may take—it is time to start over. In reality, though, sections and portions of the bridge are prioritized according to need. Regardless of strategy, the bridge is never not being painted. It is one of the primary maintenance jobs. Why? Why is the seemingly mundane and monotonous act of painting, in fact, a task of utmost importance to sustaining the structure? Because the air coming in from the Pacific Ocean is incredibly high in salt content and will wreak havoc on the structure if it is not properly sealed with paint. Exposed segments can lead to corrosion, which can lead to structural failure, which can lead to disaster.
A team of thirty-four people make it their life’s purpose to paint the Golden Gate its trademark “international orange” color. They climb ladders hundreds of feet in the air, hang from harnesses and baskets suspended over the vast waters, and risk their lives to put paint to steel. One brush stroke at a time, up and down, up and down, back and forth, back and forth, year after year. Every bolt, every rivet, every beam, every crevice, every cable gets covered. The safety of the bridge depends upon it.
The first time I read through the entire Bible, cover to cover, it took me 570 days. Verse by verse, chapter by chapter, book by book, I eventually made my way through. Methodically and steadily, I was determined to read it in its entirety. Some parts did not make sense or did not seem relevant, but I kept reading. Some parts seemed contradictory or perplexing. I kept reading. Some parts seemed like balm to my wounds. I kept reading. Some parts put me to sleep. I kept reading (after my nap, of course). Some parts made me cry. I kept reading. Some parts left me confused. I kept reading. No matter whether the text seemed logical or illogical, no matter whether it wounded or healed, no matter whether it seemed relevant or irrelevant—I kept reading.
As the workers paint the Golden Gate Bridge stroke by stroke, similarly I paint my heart with the Word of God verse by verse. It is a never-ending process. Just when I think I have finished, it is time to start over. What I painted a year ago or two years ago or ten years ago now needs a fresh coat of paint. So, I go back and paint. If the foundations, cables, and rivets of my life are to hold up under all the environmental pressure from the outside world, I can’t afford to not have God’s holy word painted on the walls of my heart. The salt content of the world around me is high, and I am in desperate need of protection from rust and corrosion and all the things that threaten the safety of my spiritual infrastructure. Bitter attitude? Paint it. Unbelief? Paint it. Pride? Paint it. Critical spirit? Paint it. Lust? Paint it.
A thousand times over, we must paint all the beams and bolts, all the nooks and crannies, of our hearts with God’s word. And just when you think you are done? Start all over again. That attitude you painted a year ago with the word has been corroded and chipped by the weight of the world. It needs protection from rust and breakdown. It needs a fresh coat of paint. So go back and paint it. You find a cable of unbelief in your mind showing age and wear. It needs a fresh coat of paint. So go back and paint it. Yep, that bitterness you harbor in your heart? It needs a fresh coat of paint, too. So go back and paint it.
You paint and you paint some more, because your heart, soul, and mind are never not in need of being painted by the living word of God. “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb. 4:12). While that living and active word is sharper than any two-edged sword, it also doubles as a paintbrush when held in the hand of the Master Painter.
Yes, some days you will get sick of painting, get sick of reading the same passage you have read two dozen times before and the two dozen times before that. Other days you will feel like one of those painters hanging suspended by a rope hundreds of feet above the ocean, your head spinning from the dizzying heights and the mysteries of God. Still other days you think you will go mad from the monotony of reading yet another biblical name you cannot pronounce and, quite frankly, do not care one whit about. And, if you are really honest with yourself, some days you will tell yourself maybe it is just easier to live with the figurative rust, to embrace the inevitability of its advance, to let the salty ocean air of this world take over. But still—you must paint. And you can never stop.
Does this persistent act of painting our hearts and minds rest solely with us? Does our perseverance in studying the word of God come about merely through our own willpower? As the apostle Paul often says, “By no means!” It is a joint endeavor between God as the Master Painter and us. Yes, we are called to faithfully hide God’s word in our hearts (Ps. 119:11) and to diligently seek his face through the study of Scripture, but it is God who ultimately saves, transforms, and sanctifies us. As we work in partnership with him and in submission to the Holy Spirit, we will find that it is God who sustains every brushstroke applied to our hearts.
I remember my college pastor asking once, “Do you remember what you ate for dinner last Monday? How ’bout a month ago? Do you remember what your mom made you for breakfast when you were thirteen? Do you remember what you ate for lunch when you were four?” The answer to all those questions was likely no. He went on to say, “You may not remember exactly what you ate last week or last month, a year ago, or ten years ago. But you do know you are alive today because you ate, meal after meal, one after the other, you ate. And all those meals added up to sustain you.”
We may not remember every verse we have ever read in the Bible, when we read it, where we were when we read it, or what lesson we needed to learn from it. But by reading it, day in and day out, we will find that it sustains us and holds us together, just like the paint that holds the Golden Gate Bridge together.
Just before Moses’ death in the Old Testament, the Lord appeared to Moses and instructed him to write down and teach the Israelites a song that both recounted the faithfulness of God to his people and the unfaithfulness of the people to their God. It was a song that was to serve as a witness. Moses sang the song to the ancient Israelite people and when he was done, he pled with them, “Take to heart all the words by which I am warning you today . . . For it is no empty word for you, but your very life, and by this word you shall live long in the land” (Deut. 32:46–47). The Word of God is not empty. It is your very life.
Stroke by stroke, verse by verse, paint the tresses and the bolts and the support beams of your life. And then paint them again. And again. And again. From one end of your life to the other, keep painting. The Golden Gate Bridge may be painted international orange, but if you paint your life with the Word of God, you will paint it blood red. “[Jesus] is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is The Word of God” (Rev. 19:13). It is with this Word, the person of Jesus Christ, that you paint the canvas of your life.
Courtney Yantes spends her days as an event planner, coordinating events and conferences designed to inspire change and promote access for people with disabilities. She graduated from William Woods University with a bachelor’s degree in history and a master’s in business administration. She enjoys writing, traveling, and generally organizing anything she can get her hands on. She is a lover of all things Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and relishes a life free of social media accounts.