That we are like 'car window' art

This one is for all the creative types out there.

I used to wonder, "What will I do if I never get published?" Then when I got published, I'd wonder, "What'll I do if I can't sell many books?" (I still wonder that one.) That's where we automatically find ourselves. How do we get our work on good-seller lists, and then when and if we do, how do we keep it there? How do we keep interesting the general public enough to invest money into our work?

Why even bother when the shelf life of anything is so short? When I was in Sydney with my family in 2004, I bought an album from the Hillsong Church. I played it a few days ago while I was driving. It's full of songs that are no longer sung in church. They were popular at the time I bought the album but now they've been swept aside to make room for newer songs. Yet their melodies and lyrics are still as powerful and awesome as they were back then.

It can be easy to wonder why we bother expending energy and effort on anything when we know the new is always going to come along to brush the old aside? Why work so hard on something that won't last? What is true for a work of art is just as true for its human creator. Each generation quickly forgets the ones which came before. We visit places that glorify history, such as Ballarat's Sovereign Hill, but the lives of individuals who really lived, loved and toiled during Australia's pioneering era have been long forgotten. The Book of Ecclesiastes tells us, "There is no remembrance of men of old, and even those who are yet to come will not be remembered by those who follow." We are relegated to names on a family tree or remembered by single accomplishments if we're lucky.

A few years ago, I typed out my dad's handwritten genealogy for him. My grandfather, who was born in 1892, served in both Great Wars and died before I was born, was one of South Australia's most celebrated boxers. Yet now, not many people have heard of him. Maybe those who are yet to be born in my family line will say, "Oh, she was the one who wrote books."

The bottom line is this: we are just as perishable as the things we create. This blog is a prime example of what I'm talking about. We spend precious time forming our thoughts and then expressing them in posts like this which we know very well will soon be buried deep in cyberspace like layers of silt and rock sediment underground.

But I saw a five-minute film on You Tube about a man named Scott Wade who created stunning works of art on the backs of dirty car windows. He was busy making a beautiful landscape, and he could see heavy black clouds in the sky as he worked. That didn't stop him. He just worked faster to finish. The end result was fantastic, and then the heavens opened. His work of art quickly turned to mud and was washed away but the artist still smiled and bowed. I couldn't forget what I'd seen. He was wiser than me. He understood the value of beauty for the moment. I didn't at the time.

Basically, it's just an illusion that any of our work is different from the work of this dirty window artist. Today is really all we have to work with. Just because our creations might not be around to enjoy tomorrow doesn't diminish their beauty today. Every day needs its own beauty. It's sad to assume something isn't meaningful just because it doesn't last for long, or that it won't be seen or heard by many people. Yet that's just what I'd been thinking and feeling.

So keep writing those stories, painting that oil painting, molding that sculpture, composing that song or whatever it is that you do. I believe God loves it whenever we use the talents He's planted within us. He's given us today to fill with our creativity, so let's keep busy brightening today without being gloomy that our work won't be around tomorrow. How boring, dry and stale today would be if everyone stopped working just because we'll soon be forgotten about.