Acrylic on canvas
Around the time I was creating this painting of Park Avenue in Arches National Park, I was reading about how many things are irreversible. Arches is one of my favorite places with big skies and wonderful red rock features. It has many stone arches and other rock formations that continually change. There are plaques at different viewpoints which show how they think it looked before, when arches were solid.
Even though you can stop and look around or even find older photographs, you can’t go back. The park doesn’t try to attempt to reconstruct an arch that has given in to gravity and fallen. As many TV shows and movies have dreamt of traveling back in time, it’s still just that: a dream. So many things in life are final; you can’t undo accidents—although you might be able to clean them up and get things looking much like before. You can’t go back and make a different first impression, however, you might get more chances to interact and change someone’s opinion. You can’t go back and hug your grandma who has passed away. Death is irreversible. And yet that’s where hope shines bright at Easter. When the grave was not final. Here is what Philip Yancey says in the book The Jesus I Never Knew: “If I take Easter as the starting point, the one incontrovertible fact about how God treats those whom he loves, then human history becomes the contradiction and Easter the preview of ultimate reality.” Jesus reversed the irreversible. My hope rests in Him.