As far back as I can remember I’ve read biographies. I love them. Especially biographies of artists. I’m always longing to relate, emulate, to be inspired or spurred on by them. Without fail, each one disappoints me. In fact, I usually get very depressed at some point in each reading. Seriously. . .Georgia O’Keefe really sent me sinking. I was so unpleasant to be around, snappy even, as I worked through the grit of her life and decisions, yet at the same time, she inspired me. Such a paradox.
I’m sure I’m not alone here, especially as a culture and how we look at heros, it’s an ancient phenomenon really. It’s built in. We crave an ideal or physical example of a life lived without hypocrisy, but we are broken, incomplete and fallen creatures and ultimately no one person, beyond Jesus, will ever fully satisfy our longings. Much can still be learned from the flawed and with each biography no matter how disappointing, I walk away better for having read it, gaining insight and hopefully avoiding the same snares.
Seems like an appropriate time of year to remember this inclination and to hold tightly to Christ and lightly to those I admire.
**Painting: Annunciation by Rev. James Disney