There, then, is the role of the amateur: to look the world back to grace. There, too, is the necessity of his work: His tribe must be in short supply; his job has gone begging. The world looks as if it has been left in the custody of a pack of trolls. Indeed, the whole distinction between art and trash, between food and garbage, depends on the presences or absence of the loving eye. Turn a statue over to a boor, and his boredom will break it to bits–witness the ruined monuments of antiquity. On the other hand, turn a shack over to a lover; for all its poverty, its lights and shadows warm a little, and its numbed surfaces prickle with feeling.
Isn’t it amazing how God loves us when a pack of trolls were bored to tears with us and let us fall into disrepair?
I rediscovered this little song recently by Mr. Rogers, “It’s You I Like.” Remember it? If we can put aside the Gen-X visceral gag reflex we have to all children’s programming, this is one beautiful song. This is “being incarnational.” This is love!