Behold the King: Jesus in Every Book of the Bible

By Lora Mae Miller

While at a conference at O.R.U., Oral Roberts gave a sermon where he named Jesus in every book of the Bible. Lora was fascinated at the concept. At the prompting of the Holy Spirit, she painted a portrait of Jesus for every book of the Bible. Friends encouraged her to share some of the wonderful experiences with the Holy Spirit – thus, “Behold the King” became a reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098033071

Book preview

Where does one begin to tell the story of a lifelong love affair with Jesus? I was privileged to be born into a wonderful Christian family, in the Baptist parsonage in Coatesville, Pennsylvania, on my father’s twenty-seventh birthday. I was the youngest of three children—Dona, Lowell, and Lora. My father was the pastor of First Baptist Church, and I was literally born in the parsonage.

The words of the old song, I love those dear hearts and gentle people who live in my hometown come to mind whenever I think of my childhood in Coatesville. There were four distinct and beautiful seasons in Pennsylvania, and each one holds very precious memories of my first twelve years. As Liddie Fudim says, Recall it as often as you wish, a happy memory never wears out.

Beginning with summer, since I was born in July, the warm carefree days of summer conjure up scenes of playing on the swings in the back yard. I recall playing cars with my brother, Lowell, making roads in the dirt under the swings. My best pal, Nancy, would run down Fifth Avenue meeting me at the halfway point. We’d play paper dolls or take our dolls under the big weeping willow tree in the side yard of the parsonage, or we’d push our doll carriages up and down Fifth Avenue. We spent many a pleasant hour playing in the parsonage playroom. When dusk arrived, the neighborhood kids gathered on our big wraparound porch to play Mother, may I or hide-and-seek. Our family frequently spent summer evenings with some members of our church, and we played kick-the-can or caught lightning bugs in Mason jars with holes punched in the top. Often the evenings ended with homemade ice cream. I especially liked chocolate, probably due to the fact that one of my favorite places to visit was Hershey, Pennsylvania. I was convinced that God made chocolate in heaven (but the devil put the calories in when it landed on earth). As an adult I returned to Hershey with my husband and children. Touring the chocolate factory, our son, Scott, quite innocently remarked, I want to be a kiss inspector when I grow up. We all had a chuckle over that!

Another fond memory from childhood is The Cow. On the way from Coatesville to Philadelphia, we always stopped at The Cow in Exton. There was a statue of a huge cow on the roof of the restaurant marking its location, and as children, we eagerly looked forward to stopping there for ice cream. Another favorite summertime treat was Iceleys at my grandparents’ home in Coraopolis. They served gigantic ice cream cones for a nickel. Summer and ice cream automatically go together, as far as I’m concerned.

The trips to New Holland to play miniature gold, getting luscious homemade potato chips in the process, all contributed to our summer evenings. Sitting on the back porch with Pop, my maternal grandfather, who lived with us, listening to the haunting minor key strains of Jewish music drifting from the synagogue across the street. Pop had a green thumb, which helped propagate the many beautiful roses we had. He and I would walk among them, telling them how beautiful they were. They seemed to thrive on our praise. (I still do this with my own roses today.)

When the family took trips by car, we loved to read the Burma Shave signs. My favorite one was Beware of the wolf, Red Ridinghood. But Grandmama, he smells so good. Burma Shave.

In autumn we’d rake piles of leaves and jump into them before burning them, the pungent odor permeating the entire atmosphere. Sometimes Nancy and I would venture through the graveyard on the way home from school, keeping our ears perked in case the curfew whistle blew from the Veterans’ Hospital. If it did, we knew to hightail it home. It was especially daring to walk through the cemetery, the days waning as winter approached, but even spookier on Halloween. I’ll long remember the Halloween Nancy and I were walking through the graveyard after school when we approached an open grave. An eerie voice spoke, What are you girls doing here? We ran like crazy! Looking back, it was obviously a gravedigger, but at the time, we were sure it was a real live ghost. You can be sure it was a good long time before we went that way again!

What fun Halloween was in those innocent days of yore. Mischief Night, the night before Halloween, was when we soaped windows, drew scary faces on the sidewalk with chalk, or played ring and run at the neighbor’s front door. On the thirty-first, we went from door to door in our own neighborhoods dressed in our homemade costumes. If they couldn’t guess who we were, we got treats of homemade cookies or fudge, cinnamon taffy apples, or popcorn balls. The young marrieds at church often had big costume parties at the parsonage later in the evening. Lowell and I would peek down the front stairs to see the costumes or sneak down the back stairs into the kitchen to sample trays of refreshments.

Thanksgiving recurrently found us on the Pennsylvania Turnpike amidst snow flurries, on the way to Granny and Granddad Lunn’s house in Coraopolis. There all the aunts, uncles, and cousins gathered for a feast only Granny could prepare. She was a cook par excellence with four boys and a girl of her own; she knew how to please the palate.

Fall drifted into winter, and winter snows drifted into our yards. There was a fence separating our yard from the large yard of the house next-door, and snow would blanket the ground, covering the fence, putting cotton caps on the fence posts. Mother told us that kindness was like snow—it will make beautiful anything it covers. Snowflakes are one of nature’s most fragile things, but just look what they can do when they stick together. When it snowed several days in a row, then drizzled rain, making a thin crust on the snowbanks, it was great sport to see who could walk on top of the crust without breaking through. We could hardly wait until school let out so we could hurry home and go sledding. What a treat to get to go with the big kids. My brother would lie belly-down on the sled, and I’d lie on his back as we zoomed down Fifth Avenue on our Flexible Flyer, runners recently waxed with bread wrappers. The city closed off certain streets so the kids could safely sled. We’d be forced to go home when it got so dark we couldn’t see, or we got so numb we couldn’t feel. Of course, we had to make a few snow angels in the process. We always had loads of fun when our world looked like it was wrapped in ermine.

Christmas was joyfully anticipated, and we had at least two Lionel train sets with oodles of track and accessories. Both our grandfathers, as well as prominent church members, were railroad men, so they seemed to vie for the position of who’d come up with the latest train paraphernalia. We always decorated the tree on Christmas Eve, and the crowning glory at the top was not a star but a lit cross. We loved putting up the manger scene too. Often our paternal grandparents came for the holidays, which added to the fun (and the gifts.) Christmas Eve found us hanging up our stockings. Isn’t it amazing that most kids excitedly hang up their stockings at Christmas, then it’s another whole year before they hang up anything again? Not much sleeping was done that night, but we were still up bright and early Christmas morn. We were allowed to retrieve our stockings, which were filled with apples, oranges, nuts, occasionally a tangerine, and some ribbon candy. The years Granny and Granddad came, there was often saltwater taffy from Atlantic City. We weren’t allowed to open any presents until Daddy read the Christmas story from the Bible and prayed—a tradition my current family has carried on.

Spring was long awaited and glorious in Pennsylvania with crocuses peeping through the snow. Spring is when the sun smiles, melting the snow, and the earth greens back. Daddy used to comment that spring was when Mother Nature decided to liquidate her frozen assets. May was Mother Nature’s way of apologizing for February. The first robin sighted was an exciting discovery and a harbinger of spring, followed by daffodils, tulips, forsythia, and fuzzy pussy willows. So many sights, sounds, and colors—the sudden thunder shower followed by brilliant rainbows, floating pea pod boats in the rain-filled gutters, and jumping in the puddles barefoot, to see how high we could make the water splash. If we were going to be out long, Mother wanted us to be sure we wore our thunderware (raincoats) and galoshes (which I hated). We frequently gathered on the front porch to watch God’s fireworks as lightning flashed and thunder rolled. God’s bowling or Angels are moving God’s furniture were a couple of classic explanations. I always liked to think it was God taking our picture. Then the fresh rain-washed air was so sweet to smell, the sky a robin’s egg blue with gorgeous puffy clouds inviting imaginations to conjure up things in their configurations. I learned it’s never cloudy outside if the sun (Son) is shining in your heart. We looked forward to being able to hang the washing outside on the clothesline. There’s nothing like the smell of fresh line-dried sheets that have been kissed and whitened by spring sunshine. We could barely contain ourselves once the snow had melted; we dug out our roller skates and skated up and down the street—forever losing our skate keys. When a sudden downpour would dampen our world, our spirits were never dampened because we took our skates to the parsonage basement where we skated to our hearts’ content in the big concrete floored rooms.

Seems like puppies and kittens were born in spring. Nancy’d bring a kitten dressed in doll clothes in her doll buggy, and we’d have a live baby to stroll with up and down Fifth Avenue. Kittens were cute, but I much preferred puppies. I once heard Daddy say, spring is when a boy mantis sees a girl mantis and finally realizes what he’s been praying for. It was years before I understood what he meant.

Easter was a glorious celebration of Christ’s resurrection and the coming alive of all that had been gripped in winter’s death. Mother always made us new outfits. We loved going to Sunday school in our Easter attire. Hats and bonnets were the order of the day, and now white gloves and shoes were allowed. I almost always had black patent leather shoes for Sunday school and church, polished to a high gloss with the best patent leather cleaner of all time—Vaseline. While Mother and Daddy presided at the Easter sunrise service, we kids looked for Easter eggs and played with the new Easter toys Mother had made from old scraps of material or new scraps which matched our new outfits. Christ the Lord Is Risen Today and Up from the Grave He Arose were always sung, along with anthems, cantatas, and pageants. The whole town seemed to reverberate with the joy of His resurrection. We’d greet each other with, He is risen! And the reply would be, He is risen indeed. Oh, that it would be that way today! It’s hard to find cards with Happy Easter on them anymore; it’s Happy Spring.

All the memories were not pleasant. Watching Daddy go off to war—gone over three years—taught this little girl to diligently pray. The whole family hung on every word Daddy wrote from England, France, and everywhere else he was stationed. Our house was an air-raid shelter, and when the awful sirens blared, our blackout shades came down and all the lights were extinguished. Men in helmets rushed to our basement with buckets of sand. I never understood all that was going on; I only knew the adults said our little town was on Hitler’s bombing list because, Lukens Steel, located in Coatesville, rolled the largest steel plates in the world at that time and they were very vital to the war effort. While Mother opened the cellar doors to admit the helmeted wardens and made sure all the blackout shades were down, I’d run to my grandfather’s room, crawl up on his lap, rocking away the time till the all clear whistle blew. The only visible light was the green eye on Pop’s radio as we listened to Gabriel Heater and the news. We’d rock and sing, Tramp, tramp, tramp the boys are marching. / Adolf Hitler’s at the door, and we’ll get a submarine and we’ll bop him on the bean and there won’t be any Hitler anymore. Anyone remember that?

I also became acquainted with jealousy during World War II when Daddy wrote home about a little English girl about my age with whom he played so he wouldn’t miss me so much. I remember sending vitamins to her because food was more scarce there than it was here. Eating bread and milk lots of nights instead of meat because meat, sugar, and gasoline were all rationed made me appreciate the fresh fruit and vegetables the Amish and Pennsylvania Dutch farmers peddled from door to door. I remember Pop’s generosity with his own stash of sugar when mine ran out. While Daddy was stationed in England, he received a letter from someone in the congregation assuring him all was well at home because, Your wife is carrying on with the deacons. Later, when Daddy was wounded and flown back to the states, Mother flew to the hospital in Robin’s Field, Georgia, to be with him. We were so happy when Mother returned, and Daddy shortly thereafter, to resume his pastoral duties. I also remember for several years after the war was over, awaking to Daddy’s screams and then Mother coming to our bedsides with a flashlight, telling us not to be afraid—Daddy’s just had a bad dream about the war. In an effort to alleviate our fears, later in the day he’d tell us that a nightmare is another name for a pillow fright, which we thought was funny. So many memories packed into my first twelve years.

Daddy served the Lord all his life, as did my mother. He preached and taught the Word from age sixteen almost until his death at age eighty-six. Mother was licensed to preach during World War II while Daddy served in the Air Force as a chaplain. I had their constant example of service to and love for Jesus always before me. Christ was as much a part of our family as were my brother and sister. I loved being a preacher’s kid. I enjoyed sketching and drawing in church while Daddy preached and Mother sang in or led a choir.

Both my parents were very talented and gifted. Art, music, and poetry were especially prevalent. My father wrote pamphlets, books, articles, and sermons. As Patricia O. Grady wrote, A weaver of tales, he shuttled words back and forth across the loom of his imagination. That was Daddy. He had a wonderful sense of humor and enjoyed a good play on words. He often said that a sense of humor was God’s inoculation against insanity. I firmly believe it. After all, the Bible says, A merry heart does good like a medicine (Proverbs 17:22). Another of Daddy’s sayings was, Happy is a person who can laugh at himself. He will never cease to be amused. I recall him showing me a booklet he wrote while in college in the 1920s. It contained misconceptions (today we call them bloopers) his classmates had put as answers on tests in his religion classes, where he and Mother helped grade the papers for the professors. It never ceases to amaze me that some of those old puns are still making the rounds.

At one point in his career, he wrote the Parables of a Pundit, which were written up in the newspaper on a regular basis. His book, Pilot to the Sky, about his World War II experience, is part of a collection the Family Research Council in Washington, DC, has on file for use. You see, Daddy was an artist too—he painted beautiful word pictures!

Mother was equally talented. She had a lovely singing voice. She played the piano by ear. She had a natural ear for harmony, and our family enjoyed many an evening singing around the piano. As I grew older, Mother and I often sang duets and then others joined us for trios and quartets. I was so proud as a teenager when Mother was nominated for Missouri Mother of the Year. She was also an excellent seamstress and taught me to sew on an old treadle machine. Daddy, in a book of puns he put together, wrote,

A dressmaker is not all that she SEAMS to be, even though she has a RIPPING good time and is always on a TEAR. Some say she is a PIN UP girl, others say she’s STUCK UP. These puns are just SEW SEW. Did I STICK you one?

My folks traveled across the United States to conduct revivals, with Daddy preaching and Mother singing. For almost sixty-two years they shared their faith and love at home and abroad. Daddy also had a radio program in a few of the states where we resided. Occasionally Mother and I would sing on the program. Because of his discipline in radio broadcasting, Daddy knew how to keep his messages lively and concise. He often stated that if you can’t say your piece in twenty minutes, you’ve wasted your time because people can only stay focused for twenty minutes at a time. Joco Grand put it this way: The attention span of a typical human is ten praises, six promises, and one preachment.

After Daddy died, I found some choice sayings in the margins of his Bibles and on little note cards he stored there—for instance, Please, Lord, fill my mouth with worthwhile stuff, and nudge me when I’ve said enough. Little quips used in my own vocabulary and in my writing generally come from something one of my parents said at one time or another, or notes jotted in their Bibles or found in their notebooks. When I know the source, I’ll give the credit, but the authors of most of the things are unknown to me. Bob Phillips wrote, If you steal from one author, it’s plagiarism; if you steal from 2 or 3 authors, it’s literary discernment; if you steal from many, it’s masterful research. We’ll let it go at that. Whatever the source, I hope you’ll get a chuckle or a blessing. My parents left me a rich heritage. I feel God really blessed me with not only wonderful and talented parents but with the desire to create—be it by painting, drawing, sewing, or writing.

The Bible was the focus of our living and our rule of faith and practice. Daddy wrote a thought-provoking series of sermons titled This I Believe, fourth in the series being I Believe in the Bible. I want to share part of it with you.

As I grew older, I used to envy people who knew the exact date of their born again experience because I didn’t know mine—Jesus had always been a very real part of our family. I always knew He was God’s Son, and I believed in Him. I clearly recall, as a small child, asking Mother and Daddy why I couldn’t take Communion. Since Daddy was behind the pulpit and Mother in the choir, I usually sat with a lady I called Aunt Sidney. When the Communion trays were passed, they always passed over me. My parents explained that Communion was for church members who had made a public profession of faith and had been baptized. Both of them explained the plan of salvation and the meaning of the elements in Communion. I assured them that I believed all that! Baptism was the next step, but when I was about three, I had almost drowned in quicksand when we were on a Sunday school picnic, so baptism by immersion was fearful for me. I did want everyone to know that I believed in Jesus and told my folks that everyone already knew I did, but Daddy insisted that I should be baptized. On Palm Sunday 1945, I was. Even though I had to be put under the water, I knew my Heavenly Father and earthly father were with me, and the fear dissipated. My hair hardly got wet. What happened to me is described so beautifully in Romans 6:4–5 in the Message translation:

When we went under the water, we entered into the new country of grace—a new life in a new land! That’s what baptism into the life of Jesus means. When we were lowered into the water, it is like the burial of Jesus; when we were raised up out of the water, it is like the resurrection of Jesus. Each of us is raised into a light-filled world by our Father so that we can see where we’re going in our new grace-sovereign country.

I love that description, don’t you?

All through my school years I continued to draw, paint, and sketch. I loved to draw people around me in church, and when Daddy called me to task about it, I assured him I heard every word of his sermon and liked to give the main points back to him. I was beginning to think I had a call on my life, but I didn’t know what it was. When I was in high school, I did my first real oil painting. Because of my good grades, I was allowed to take a three­-hour vocational art class, which challenged me to experiment with all mediums. I discovered I liked charcoal sketching and painting in oils—my favorite subject, people. Our teacher tried to get us to do abstract. Since I prefer realism, I remarked, I remember when the artist had to suffer, now it’s the viewer. It wasn’t appreciated!

Our vocational art teacher liked us to draw or paint from both still life arrangements and live models. One day she arranged several familiar objects in front of a draped cloth and told us to paint it as we saw it. Some very carefully sketched what they saw before they got out their oils. Some used chalk first, while others went directly to their tubes of paint. Some used large brushes and bold strokes; others used smaller brushes and fewer, daintier strokes. Some were like photographs in detail, others very abstract. No two paintings were alike, yet we were all painting the same objects. Not only do we have a variety of colors on our pallets, we also used a variety of brushes. God, the Master Artist, needs big brushes (evangelists, pastors, teachers, writers of anthems and hymns, biblical expositors and apologists) but also the smaller brushes to fill in the details with the beauty and variety of their lives lived for Jesus. I have no problem with the so-called contradictions of the Gospels or anything else in the Bible. Each writer reported things through his own personality via the direction of the Holy Spirit. Our different approaches to the same objects to be painted is very much like our Christian walk. There are many denominations and ways of keeping the faith and interpreting the Bible, but we must allow for the differences in people’s personalities.

Work out your own salvation in fear and trembling. (Philippians 2:12)

God, the Master Artist, comes into the classroom. He puts the model, Jesus Christ, before the class to paint Him as they see Him. Each aspiring artist has his own palette of colors. Each approaches the subject in his own unique way. Some emulate, some distort, some copy exactly. Some keep their gaze fixed on the Model; others keep their eyes on their canvas, glancing at Him occasionally. As long as the model is Jesus Christ, surely we can allow for another’s views.

At about this time, my father was pastoring a church in Springfield, Missouri, and they were building a large new edifice. A couple in the church wanted to give a life-size portrait of Christ to the church and asked me to paint one for them. After much agonizing prayer, I finally agreed to do it. I titled it, Come Unto Me, patterned after Warner Salman’s, His Presence. I wrote to Mr. Salman to get his permission to copy his idea. He wrote me a lovely letter, which I treasure highly. Unfortunately, the couple who commissioned me didn’t like the painting when it was completed, and I was crushed! The church decided to use it anyway, and it was put inside the main entrance, at the end of a long hallway, with indirect lighting all around it.

Shortly after it was in place, an alcoholic whom my father was counseling called the parsonage late at night and begged to see him. Daddy said he’d meet him at the main entrance to the church, unlock the door, put on the lights, and take him to the church office where they could have privacy. The church was always locked at night and the lights off, but when Daddy arrived, he found the man on his knees weeping, facing the painting which was mysteriously lit. Who unlocked the door and only turned on the lights around the painting? The man said when he arrived and found the door unlocked, he assumed my dad was already there. Instead, all was very dark—but at the end of the hall, there was Christ with His arms outstretched, beckoning to him. He said Jesus spoke to him very clearly and stepped out of the painting saying, If you come to Me, and meet Me halfway, I’ll deliver you. The man gave his heart to the Lord and was cured of his alcohol problems. Even though I’d originally been hurt because the people who commissioned me hadn’t liked the painting, the Lord still used it for His glory. My momentary hurt was well worth one changed life! I was hooked! I desired to paint Jesus more and more. I wanted a salvation or changed life for each painting. What a joy that would be!

I spent two years at Southwest Missouri State where I majored in art. I was a member of Delta Phi Delta, the honorary art fraternity. I spent my last two years at the School of Architecture and Allied Arts at the University of Oregon where I met my husband, Brad. I graduated cum laude, with a double major in art and psychology and a minor in sociology. I like what Frank Lloyd Wright said, If you invest wisely in beauty, it will remain with you all the days of your life.

Over the years my father had collected paintings of heads of Christ. He was often invited various places to share the stories connected with them. He had some very unique portraits. I always loved looking at them and hearing about the artists. After he retired, he asked each of us kids to let him know what we’d like of my folks’ possessions so they could give them to us before they died. This they did for our birthdays and anniversaries. I told him I wanted his collection of the portraits of Christ. He gave them to me, and I’ve added to them.

Photo of Lora Mae Lunn and her painting Come unto Me for the Springfield News and Leader—April 1955

Several years ago, Brad and I were attending a seminar at Oral Roberts University, and Oral gave his famous Fourth Man in the Furnace sermon where he went through every book of the Bible and named Jesus’s role in each book. I was intrigued by this concept and, thinking of my collection of the heads of Christ, said to myself, Wouldn’t it be neat if someone would paint a portrait of Jesus for every book of the Bible? Then I dismissed the thought from my mind. A few years later, the pastor of the church we attended went through each book of the Bible and gave his ideas of names for Jesus in each book. Again, the thought came to me, as before, of how great it would be if someone would paint a series of portraits like that. Then a still, small voice said, Why don’t you do it? The voice persisted. I argued off and on with God for several months—then I gave in and obeyed.

The process of doing each painting was long and involved. I first read the book of the Bible I planned to illustrate, searching for Christ and a name for Him in that particular book. I often had to read it several times, praying the Holy Spirit would reveal to me what I was looking for. Naturally it was relatively easy in the New Testament where Jesus was in the flesh but a little more difficult in the Old—but He is there—in every book—from Genesis to Revelation.

After I’d read the book and found Jesus and what He portrayed in that book, I asked God to help me visualize Him. Next, after I’d sketched my idea of Jesus, I’d reread the book, usually in several different translations, and pick out the things I wanted to symbolize. Here’s where the Old Testament was easier because there are many concrete objects, but a lot of the New Testament is ideas, and they’re more difficult to depict. When I decided what symbols I wanted to use, I looked up all the facts I could about the objects in Bible dictionaries, encyclopedias, at the library—wherever I could find information—so that the symbols would be historically, as well as biblically accurate. Then I’d sketch the symbols and arrange them the way I liked around the head of Jesus. Finally, I transferred it all to canvas and began to paint. The actual portrayal in oil didn’t take very long, but all the research and preparation was what was time-consuming.

At that time, I was helping to care for my mother who was recovering from open heart surgery, so I didn’t have a lot of free time to paint. All the grandchildren called Mother Granny Lightning before her surgery, so you can imagine how devastating it was for her to be virtually immobile. It was a very stressful time for all the family, but it made my times of painting Jesus a precious time of peace and communion with Him, which I desperately needed! It took me approximately five years to complete all sixty-six books of the Bible.

The first painting I envisioned was not Genesis but Acts. I was baptized in the Holy Spirit in the early 1970s, and the book of Acts came alive to me like never before. Back then, reading my Bible, I developed such a hunger for more of God that I kept asking for His fullness, not really knowing what I was asking for. All my life I’d had what some people call psychic experiences, but I always considered them spiritual. I used to have very vivid dreams—often dreams that came true—and I felt God had a desire to communicate with me. Most of these things I kept to myself, but I did share some with my parents, who were very understanding. They told me to remain open to the leading of the Lord.

Before we were baptized in the Spirit, we were living in the Chicago area, and Brad was teaching an adult Sunday school class. We were following the Baptist material, and they were doing a study on the book of Acts. I remember Brad asking the class, Why don’t we have that kind of power today? We have the same Holy Spirit they did. No one seemed to have an answer, so Brad and I began studying all we could about the Holy Spirit. I was amazed that references to the Holy Spirit were not just in the New Testament but in the Old as well. He seemed to jump off the pages as I read from Genesis to Revelation underlining everything about the Spirit of God.

To make a long story short, we were baptized in the Holy Spirit, and I developed an insatiable hunger for the Word and a deeper intimacy with Jesus. When we get to the book of Acts, I’ll go into more detail about the infilling of the Holy Spirit. For years, every time I’d begin to doubt my initial experience, God would wondrously prove to me how real it was.

There was a ditty going around Charismatic circles at that time that I just loved:

If you have the Word without the Spirit—you dry up. If you have the Spirit without the Word—you blow up. But if you have the Word and the Spirit—you grow up!

I had read through the Bible many times prior to doing this project, and I’ve read it in various translations and paraphrases, but the knowledge I’ve gained and the unique closeness I’ve felt to the Lord while doing these paintings is something I cherish—something no one can take from me. I’ve gained a whole new understanding and appreciation of the scriptures while doing the research for the different symbols. God is indeed a mighty God and His Word a wonderful tool for living!

*****

Don’t leave your Bible on the shelf where days will take their toll of dust and mold and mildew on your poor neglected soul.

Did you hear about the artist who drew his own conclusions?

Read the Bible—prevent truth decay!

A Sunday school teacher asked her class of five- and six-year-olds if they knew who was the first man mentioned in the Bible? Little Johnny, who was proud of his new reading ability, quickly opened his Bible, then raised his hand. Chap 1, he replied.

A farmer had his pet pig stolen and was very disgruntled. He named him Inky because he was always running out of his pen. (Lunn’s Puns)

Sign in front of a church: We offer Eternal Fire Insurance.

Nothing is permanent but God and change.

Don’t put a question mark where God puts a period.

A Bible that’s falling apart usually belongs to a person who isn’t.

The way we’d sing a couple hymns if we were honest—

I Love to Talk about Telling the Story.

Pillow of Ages, Fluffed for Me.

It’s been said that as we grow older, we grow more like the place we’re going.

One weatherman to another, It sure looks stormy—there’s not a sky in the clouds.

Archeologist: A man whose career lies in ruins.

Free will is God’s gift of a do-it-yourself kit.

Seen on a Bible display: When all else fails—Read the Directions!

No God—No peace. Know God—Know peace.

One snowman to another, Some of my best friends are flakes.

Earth is so kind that just tickle her with a hoe and she laughs with a harvest. (Douglas Jerrold)

Seen on a T-shirt: Teachers have no class in the summer.

What do ghosts eat for dessert? Scream puffs.

What do zombies drink for breakfast? Decoffinated coffee.

Genesis: Jesus the Creator

Earth—Genesis 1:1, 2 (KJV)

Day and night—Genesis 1:5 (KJV)

Fruit (apple)—Genesis 1:11, 3:6 (KJV)

Seasons—Genesis 1:14b (KJV)

Sun, moon, stars, and planets—Genesis 1:15 and 16 (LB)

Fish—Genesis 1:20, 21 (LB)

Rainbow—Genesis 9:13 (NIV)

Genesis

Jesus the Creator

I believe God is the Supreme Artist, the Divine Creator, and He sees all His creatures and creation as His workmanship (Ephesians 2:10). There was a young man in one of my college art classes who desired to paint in oils. He read all he could on the subject and bought the finest equipment. Nevertheless, when he began to paint, it was obvious he didn’t have much talent. In frustration, he slammed his brush and palette down. The teacher came over and stood beside him, encouraging him and even helped him with his strokes. What a difference it made in his work when he followed the advice of a real artist. That’s the way it is in our journey through life—if we will listen to the Master Artist, God, and let Him help and direct us, our life painting can be more beautiful too.

Yes, He’s the Artist Creator. Jesus was right there with God the Father creating everything. The Amplified Bible says it so plainly:

God said, Let Us (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) make mankind in Our image, after Our likeness…" (Genesis 1:26)

Can you imagine what it must have been like? What a Creator He was and is!

We too can be creative. I read somewhere that life is a great big canvas and we should throw on it all the paint we can, using all the lovely colors God has given you. The more color you use, the less drab your life will be.

Speaking of creativity, the late Jamie Buckingham put it this way:

Creativity is the search for a better way. The creative person is always asking, How can I improve? Such a question nearly always produces improvement. Neither geniuses or nature do things the same way twice. Genuine creation grows out of a relationship with the Creator—who continues in us the process begun when the earth was without form and void. Seed sown in the flowerpots of our minds will, when they sprout, always reproduce in the shape of the Source—not the pot. (Charisma magazine 1990).

Genesis is certainly the book of beginnings. It details the creation of all things, with man as God’s crowning glory. The creative work of the Godhead is divided into two groups of three days. The first three days chronicle three types of divisions—light from darkness, water above the earth from water under the earth, and land from sea. The second three days: things above (the solar system) and things below (fish of the sea, birds of the air, and animals, including man). In reporting on the creation of man, he is different from the animals, in that the Lord breathed into man’s nostrils the breath of life and man became a living being (Genesis 2:7b, RSV). I pity those poor people who believe we descended from monkeys.

Darwin’s Mistake

Three monkeys sat in a coconut tree

Discussing things as they’re said to be.

Said one to the others, "Now listen you two,

There’s a certain rumor that can’t be true,

That man descended from our noble race.

That very idea is a disgrace.

No monkey ever deserted his wife,

Starved her babies or ruined her life.

And another thing you’ll never see,

A monk build a fence around a coconut tree,

And let the coconuts go to waste,

Forbidding other monks to taste.

If I put a fence around this tree,

Starvation would force you to steal from me.

Here’s another thing a monk won’t do,

Go out at night and get in a stew,

And use a gun, a club or knife

To take some other monkey’s life.

Yes, man descended, the ornery cuss,

But, brother, he didn’t descend from us.

(Author Unknown)

All God’s creative acts were done in six days, then God rested, setting an example for us to follow. Genesis also tells of the fall of man and the temptation by Satan. Most of us are quite familiar with the story of the serpent tempting Eve who, in turn, convinced Adam to sin. The important point to note in this story is that in succumbing to Satan’s ploy, man disobeyed God. His sentence for sin was death but that He also gave over the rule of the world to the enemy of our souls. God meant for man to rule, but Satan thwarted the plan. However, God began His plan of redemption as stated in Genesis 3:15, speaking to Satan, And I will put enmity between you and woman, and between your seed and her seed; He shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise His heel" (NKJ).

Genesis also tells of the first murder, Noah and the flood, the beginning and diversification of languages, and many other firsts. The preexistent Christ is mentioned not only in Genesis 1:26 as co-Creator with the Father and the Holy Spirit, but also as the victor over Satan in chapter 3 verse 15. He also is the covenant maker with Abraham in later chapters. Christ is very evident in the whole book.

One of the stories in Genesis that I like is found in the fifth chapter, verse 24.

And Enoch walked with God; and he was not; for God took him. (KJV)

Enoch’s best friend was God. As he looked at his firstborn, Mathuselah (who at 969 was the oldest man in the Bible), he was awestruck at God’s goodness. Enoch’s walk with God was consistent. He was devoted to God. He was determined to live in agreement with God all his days. It’s been suggested that they were such good friends that one day Enoch walked so far with God that it was closer to God’s house than his own so he just went home with God.

An all-time favorite is of Noah and the flood found in chapter 6. Most everyone is familiar with the story. God was so fed up with the sin of mankind that He was sorry He’d made man. God told Noah to build an ark. I recall Daddy asking us where Noah struck the first nail in the ark. (He liked to challenge us with biblical questions.) When we couldn’t answer, he replied, Why, on the head, of course. We never knew when his sense of humor would kick in, but it often did. God destroyed all living things except Noah, his family, and the animals he instructed Noah to take into the ark. The beautiful rainbow reminds us of God’s promise never to destroy the whole earth by flood again. John Cheney once said, The soul would have no rainbows had the eyes no tears.

I’ll paint you a rainbow to hang on the wall,

To brighten your heart when the gray shadows fall.

On a canvas of joy outlasting the years,

With a soft brush of sweetness to dry all your tears.

I’ll paint you a rainbow with colors of smiles

That glow with sincerity over the miles.

On a palette of words I will tenderly blend

Tones into treasures of sunlight and wind.

I’ll paint you a rainbow that reaches so wide,

Your sighs and sorrows will vanish inside,

And deep in the center of each different hue,

A memory fashioned especially for you.

So lift up your eyes, for suspended above,

A rainbow designed by the fingers of love.

(Grace Easley)

After a big rainstorm in Lake Havasu, Arizona, where my parents were living at the time, there were often flash floods. After one such rain, Brad and our son Scott went wandering out into the desert. The rain had brought out some awesome sights. They saw flowers so small you could hardly see them. Brad took a picture just to show people how tiny these little flowers were compared to a penny.

The story of Noah shows us that God always provides a way of escape for His righteous remnant—it’s a principle portrayed from Genesis to Revelation. An interesting sideline discovered by my analytical husband is that one of the people destroyed in the flood was Methuselah, the son of Enoch. Since he was the oldest man in the Bible, he certainly could’ve complained about getting old.

Chapter 11 of Genesis tells about the Tower of Babel where God confused the languages of mankind. Man sinned in his desire to build a tower to reach into heaven so they could make a name for themselves. They built a monument to themselves and their pride, desiring to rule themselves and those around them rather than allowing God to rule. We haven’t changed that much through time, have we? It became not only a tower of confused languages but a tower of judgment against their prideful desires. We should beware of trying to be equal to God, full of pride and trying to rule ourselves.

Abraham is called the father of faith by many. What makes him that? He obeyed God. He wasn’t more honest or of a perfect character; he simply took God at His Word. In chapter 14, Abraham meets Melchizedek, to whom he pays tithes. This man with the strange name is the king of Salem and a priest of the Most High God. The New Testament refers to him as being a supernatural being. Some even feel he was the preincarnate Christ.

In Genesis 15, the story of Abraham having doubts about God’s promises is so like most of us. My father had a man in one of his congregations who suffered severe financial loses in the stock market. He was complaining to Daddy.

Dr. Lunn, everything is gone! All is lost!

Daddy replied, Oh, Bill, I’m so sorry your wife died.

No, my wife is fine.

Oh, then, your children were in an accident—your home burned?

Of course not, he interjected.

Have you come from the doctor and he’s discovered you have an incurable disease?

By this time the man was irritated but realized what Daddy was implying. I guess I do have much for which to be thankful, don’t I?

When Abraham doubted God and was feeling sorry for himself, God told him to count the stars. Abraham realized he had to look up—the right direction—and that God had given him much more for which to be thankful. He was to count his blessings as he would count the stars. As Abraham attempted to count the stars, God told him he would make his descendants that numerous. The scripture says, He believed the Lord; and He reckoned it to him as righteousness (Genesis 15:6, KJV).

The tale of Sodom and Gomorrah is a warning to our modern-day society with its proclivity toward homosexuality. Genesis 18 and 19 tells the sordid story. Abraham interceded for the cities, but God destroyed them because of their gross sins. Abraham’s bargaining with God to spare the city if fifty righteous people were found there, going clear down to ten righteous, which could not be found, shows not only how much God abhors this kind of evil but that He will eradicate a city or nation because of it. In case there is any doubt as to the heinous sins of Sodom and Gomorrah and the reason for their obliteration, another Old Testament passage clarifies it: If a man has intercourse with a man as with a woman, they both commit an abomination. They shall be put to death; their blood shall be upon their own heads (Leviticus 20:13, NEB), and Jude 1:7 in the New Testament states it, The fornication of Sodom and Gomorrah and the other nearby towns was equally unnatural, and it is a warning to us that they are paying for their crime in eternal fire (JB).

The narration of Abraham being willing to sacrifice his son of promise, Isaac, at God’s command, shows us his complete trust in God. It gives an Old Testament portrayal of God’s willingly sacrificing His only Son, Jesus, for us. Abraham’s statement in Genesis 22:8, My son, God will provide HIMSELF a lamb for a burnt offering… (KJV), is clearly prophetic of our sacrificial lamb, Jesus.

In the thirty-seventh chapter of Genesis is the story of Joseph, his coat of many colors and the jealousy of his brothers toward him. He was a dreamer and many of his dreams were prophetic in nature. I often feel like my father left me a coat of many colors in the heritage I received from him. Since I was born on his birthday, we shared a special bond, and much of my thinking and many of my spiritual characteristics came from him. We both have had prophetic dreams and unusual happenings connected with the spiritual world.

Out of jealousy, Joseph’s envious brothers sold him to the Ishmaelites and he was taken to Egypt. God took all the adverse situations in Joseph’s life and wove them into a tapestry of His favor. God has done that for me too and He’ll do it for you. His allegiance to God eventually led him to a position of great prominence and authority in Egypt. God honors those who honor Him!

Who was the straightest man in the Bible? Joseph, because God made a ruler out of him. All jokes aside, God was well pleased with Joseph’s unyielding subservience to the Most High God, our Creator.

There are so many wonderful stories in Genesis; one could write a book just about them.

Not too long ago, as I was enjoying the beauty in my garden, I reflected on Jesus the Creator. God certainly wielded a mighty paintbrush!

God’s Paintbrush

I sat and pondered for a while

Why God made things so lush

All around His beauty unfolds

As He, the Master Artist, wields His brush.

In nature as we look about

We see the rainbow’s hues—

Red, orange, yellow, purple, green,

Shades of indigo and blues.

He took from His master palette

The brilliant shades of red,

From the scarlet of the cardinal’s wing

To crimson roses in a bed.

He continued with blushing apples,

Lush and crisp and red;

To the very blood within our veins—

Yes, even the blood that Jesus shed.

Using orange He fashioned pumpkins,

Sectioned oranges, a citrus delight;

The wings of many a butterfly

Show forth orange as they take flight.

Yellow was a favorite—

He made the sun, a luminous ball;

Daffodils, forsythia, buttercups—

Beauty so profuse. He made them all!

Another favorite must have been

The many shades of green—

Trees of all types, grass, bushes, herbs—

Proliferate the verdant scene

In the wide expanse of heaven

He put varying shades of blue.

In the oceans and lakes, again He used

This lovely color too.

The bluebird soaring in the sky

Flashing its azure wings,

The cornflower waving in the field—

The eyes of a mother as to her baby she sings.

A sapphire twinkling in the light

Blueberries with sugar and cream

The blues sparkle and glisten;

God likes this pigment, it seems.

Indigo, a combination of violet and blue

Is profuse in the wildflowers.

The mountains as darkness falls

Show indigo shadows proclaiming the hours.

Purple with its hues and tints

Is known as a majestic thing.

Grapes, plums, pansies, orchids,

Wisteria vines in the spring.

All these and more are shades of purple,

Like the blooms of the Jacaranda tree,

The columbine, crocuses, asters,

Amethyst stones, as pretty as can be.

The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

Joined to create a palette so diverse;

The infinite combinations are many—

The art displayed throughout the universe.

(Lora Mae Miller)

*****

I believe in the big bang theory—God spoke, and bang…it happened.

I’m so worried about Adam, Eve told the serpent. He’s absent without leaf. (Lunn’s Puns)

Were Adam and Eve banished for eating fruit or for raising Cain?

What kind of car does God drive? The Bible says God drove Adam and Eve from the garden in a fury.

At the Social Security Office, Adam is known as 000-00-0001.

Just because God created us from dust is no reason to treat another person like dirt.

Define rescind. It’s the first thing Adam and Eve did after they were expelled from the Garden.

If Adam and Eve were alive today, they’d probably sue the snake.

At what season did Eve eat the fruit? Early in the fall.

A little boy opened the big old family Bible with fascination. Suddenly, something fell out, and he picked it up, looking at it closely. It was an old leaf from a tree that had been pressed between the pages. Mommy, look what I found, the boy called out. What have you get there? his mother asked. With some astonishment in the young boy’s voice he answered, I think it’s Adam’s suit.

How did God keep Adam and Eve from gambling? He took away their paradise.

What time of day was Adam born? A little before Eve.

The only thing Adam would recognize if he came back today are the jokes.

What made Adam a famous runner? He was first in the human race.

Eve was the first woman who could honestly say, I haven’t got a thing to wear.

Adam was created first…to give him a chance to say something.

One thing Adam didn’t have to worry about was Eve comparing him to the man she could have married.

What is it that Adam neither saw or had but he left two for each of his children? Parents.

When was radio first mentioned in the Bible? When God took Adam’s rib and made a loudspeaker.

This country doesn’t need a third party. It was the third party that ruined things in the Garden of Eden.

A doctor, an engineer and a lawyer were arguing about which of their professions was the first mentioned in the Bible.

The doctor said, My profession was first—God made Eve by extracting a rib from Adam, the first surgery.

No, spoke the engineer, my profession was first. Think of the engineering it took to create everything out of chaos.

Gotcha, said the lawyer. Who do you think caused the chaos?

Who made the first walking stick in the Bible? Eve—when she presented Adam with a little Cain.

At the senior citizens center there were two lines in the cafeteria—one for wheelchairs and one for those without handicaps. They were labeled Cane and Able.

If Noah had listened to modern-day weather forecasters there would’ve been only a 10 percent chance of his building the ark. Thank goodness, he listened to God!

Famous last words by Noah’s neighbors: No need to set up the tent. It won’t rain.

What was Noah’s theme song? Row, Row, Row Your Boat.

If Noah had really been smart, he’d not have taken two flies aboard the ark. He also was a trusting soul taking two termites.

Noah was the best financier in the Bible because he floated his stock while the whole world was in liquidation.

What animal took the most baggage into the ark? The elephant—he took his whole trunk while the fox only took a brush, and the rooster, a comb.

What fruit lasted longest on the ark? The preserved pairs.

How do we know Noah had a pig on the ark? Because he had Ham.

When was money first mentioned in the Bible? When the dove brought the green back.

Teacher: Do you know who built the ark?

Student: Uhh… No. Uhhh…

Teacher: Correct.

When the lion left the ark, why did he cross the jungle? He was hoping to get to the other pride.

Why couldn’t they play cards on the ark? Because Noah sat on the deck.

Since the ark was built in three stories and the top story had a window to let the light in, how did they get light in the bottom two stories? They used flood lights.

Things I learned from Noah:

Don’t miss the boat.

Remember that we are all in the same boat.

Plan ahead. It wasn’t raining when Noah built the ark.

Stay fit. When you’re six hundred years old, someone may ask you to do something really big.

Don’t listen to critics, just get on with the job that needs to be done.

Build your future on high ground.

For safety’s sake, travel in pairs.

When you’re stressed—float away.

Remember, the ark was built by amateurs—the Titanic by professionals.

No matter how bad the storm, when you’re doing God’s will, there’s always a rainbow waiting.

What kind of coffee was sold on the Titanic? Sanka.

Those who walk with God always reach their destination. Signed, Enoch.

Methuselah’s bumper sticker: Be Kind to Senior Citizens.

A father was reading Bible stories to his little son. He was reading about Lot’s wife. He read, Lot was warned to take his wife and flee the city, but his wife looked back and became a pillar of salt. Wow, the little boy exclaimed, What happened to the flea?

Theme Songs for Biblical Characters

Adam and Eve: Strangers in Paradise.

Adam and Eve’s fall: The Party’s Over

Noah: Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

Esau: Born to Be Wild

Methuselah: Stayin’ Alive

Sarah at Isaac’s birth: You Make Me Feel So Young

Isaac’s being sacrificed: Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off.

Exodus: Jesus the Passover Lamb

Birth of Moses—Exodus 2:3 (KJV)

Burning bush—Exodus 3:2 (KJV)

Name of God (I Am)—Exodus 3:14 (KJV)

Pharaoh of Egypt—Exodus 4:21 (KJV)

Passover (blood on doorposts)—Exodus 12:3–11 (KJV)

Pillar of cloud and pillar of fire—Exodus 40:34–38 (KJV)

Exodus

Jesus the Passover Lamb

Exodus is the continuing saga of Jacob’s family begun in Genesis. It tells how the family grew from seventy people to millions. It also tells of their bondage in Egypt. The book can be divided into three parts: the supernatural liberation of Israel, the miraculous journey to and sojourn at Sinai, and the supernatural receiving of God’s law. Each of these sections is filled with the astonishing acts of a wonder-working God.

The majority of the book of Exodus centers on the life of Moses, who was a foreshadow of Christ. He was a deliverer of God’s people. The Passover Feast was initiated. The whole concept of Passover points to Jesus who is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world (John 1:29). If you ever get a chance to attend a Passover seder, you’ll be amazed at the symbolism and how Jesus fulfilled it all.

On the night of the celebration of the Passover seder, I find the symbols another confirmation of Jesus as the Passover Lamb. When the Jewish children ask the age old question, Why is this night different from other nights?—and the father answers with the story from Exodus, telling how they are now no longer slaves of Egypt, God delivered them—we, as Christians, can readily see that Jesus Christ delivered us from our slavery to sin. Prior to Passover, all the traces of leaven are removed from the home. Leaven represents sin. Once again, Jesus the Messiah removes all sin from our lives as we accept Him and His atonement. Regular bread is replaced by the matzah.

The Passover seder is prepared and the table set for the unseen guest, and an extra cup of wine is set out. Some Orthodox Jews say this place is for the prophet Elijah, and others say it’s for their coming Messiah.

On the seder plate, in the center, are three pieces of matzah, wrapped in a linen cloth. Around the edge of the plate is a lamb shank bone, bitter herbs, a mixture of crushed nuts, apples and spices, a roasted egg, horseradish, and parsley with celery or lettuce. These all have symbolic meanings to the Jews. The lamb shank bone represents the blood of the lamb which was placed on the doorposts of the Israelites homes while they were in Egypt, so the