To Paint.
Finding Him in Color, Stillness, and Scripture
by Jennifer Greene-Sullivan
Lately, I have struggled to concentrate. My thoughts have felt scattered, my emotions have felt loud, and my mind has not easily settled into the quiet I know I need. I have wanted to pray, to write, to focus—but instead, I have found myself distracted and restless. Honestly, in the middle of that struggle, the Lord prompted me to do something unexpected. He told me to paint.
The Invitation to Be Still
At first, it felt simple. Almost too simple. I ordered two coloring books and pulled out my watercolor paints—the same medium I have always loved, the same soft, fluid style that has shaped so many of my children’s books. There is something about watercolor that speaks to my inner child; something reminds me of beauty without pressure. However, what I didn’t realize was this…
Painting would require me to be still, not just physically, but mentally, and that is exactly what I had been avoiding.
Scripture in the Stillness
As I painted my first page, I realized there was space on the left for Scripture. The first verse I wrote was Liam’s AWANA verse for the week:
James 1:5 (ESV)
“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.”
The book of James has always been important to me. It is practical, direct, and deeply convicting in the best way, and in this season, I know I need wisdom—not just for decisions, but for my thoughts, my emotions, and my focus. But as I sat there, brush in hand, the Lord gently added another verse to my heart.
What My Mind Dwells On
Philippians 4:8 (ESV)
“Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable… think about these things.”
That word—think—settled into me because if I am honest, my thoughts have not been dwelling there. They have been scattered. Restless. Overwhelming at times.
When my mind is filled with whirling thoughts and emotions, I become distracted from what is worthy of praise. I lose sight of what is lovely because I am consumed with what feels urgent, heavy, or unresolved, and in doing so, I drift.
The Discipline of Returning
Painting slowed me down enough to notice. Each brushstroke required attention, and each color required intention. I could not rush it. I could not multitask. I had to sit, to focus, and to remain, and in that stillness, the Lord met me.
Not with correction, but with invitation; what He gave me is an invitation to return to a renewal of my thoughts. This renewal will allow my spirit to dwell differently and to choose what I fix my mind on in this season, in this moment, in this restructuring of who I am in Jesus.
Painting slowed me down enough to notice what my mind was actually doing.
Each brushstroke required attention. Each color required intention. I could not rush it, and I could not multitask. I had to sit, to focus, and to remain in the moment, and in that stillness, the Lord gently revealed something to me. Returning to Him is not always automatic. Most of the time, return to Jesus a discipline.
In John 6, after a difficult teaching from Jesus, many of His followers turned away. They had walked with Him. They had listened to Him. They had seen what He could do, but when His words became hard, they left. Jesus looked at the twelve and asked a question that feels just as piercing today:
John 6:67–68 (ESV)
“Do you want to go away as well?”
That question lingers even for me. Because if I am honest, I may not physically walk away—but my mind does. My thoughts drift. My focus shifts. My attention pulls toward worry, distraction, and noise. I may still be present in body, but I am not always abiding in heart. And in those moments, the question still stands:
Do you want to go away as well?
Peter’s response has been echoing in my spirit.
“Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
He did not say he understood everything. He did not say it was easy. He simply acknowledged the truth—there was nowhere else to go.
That is the discipline I am learning. Not perfection. Not constant focus. But returning.
When my thoughts drift, I return. When my mind fills with things that are not true, not lovely, not worthy of praise, I return. When I feel overwhelmed, distracted, or restless, I return again. Because where else would I go? There is no peace apart from Him. No clarity apart from Him. No life apart from Him. So, I sit with my paintbrush. I sit with His Word. And even when my mind wanders, I keep bringing it back—not because I am strong, but because He is worth returning to.
Again and again.
A Prayer from the Middle of It
So now, I find myself praying something deeper than I expected, not just for focus. I must seek closeness. I cry out to Him: “Lord, do not let go of me.” Jesus please: Pull me closer when my mind drifts. Pull me toward the Light of the world. Pull me into the presence of the Great I AM. Teach me to praise when I am tempted to complain.
Teach me to give thanks when my thoughts begin to spiral. Teach me to dwell on what is worthy of You. Amen.
Reflection
I thought I needed clarity. Instead, the Lord gave me stillness. I thought I needed answers. Instead, He gave me a brush, a page, and His Word, and maybe, in this season, that is exactly what my heart needs—to slow down long enough to remember where my thoughts belong.
#AgingEnglishMajor #QuietWithGod #WatercolorWorship #BeStill #GleaningSeason #FaithInTheQuiet #HeIsNear
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