The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 33

It was chilly outside, but Timothy was warm inside and out. It was one of those wonderful mornings when everything felt right. He had no sorrows and no cares. He was just happy to be alive, happy to be a child of the living God.

The cool breeze swept the lad's hair away from his face. It was the softest touch Timothy had ever felt. It was still a bit dark from the earliness of morning, but he could see on the horizon a slender strand of gold which was growing beneath the sky's twilight-blue.

A cheerful smile dawned over his little face. When he felt the wind gently surround him, he could imagine that it was God's way of taking him in his arms the way any father would. And when he saw the sunshine casting out the darkness of night, he remembered how Jesus' holy light and love had cast out the darkness of his life when he had become a Christian.

"Ain't it jolly, Arthur?" Tim asked, glancing over at his friend with a grin. The light reflected in the young man's ocean-blue eyes as if the sun was dawning inside of them as well. A gentle smile touched Arthur's lips.

"It is remarkable, like a marvelous painting!" he answered.

"I'd like t' meet the painter what made this paintin', wouldn't you?" the little boy asked, sighing in hope and contentment.

The words woke a new feeling in Arthur's heart. It had been growing within him for several days, and like a young seedling, it was just about to burst out of the muddy earth and reach toward the heavenly light.

Yes, I would! he thought to himself. But there were so many rocks in the soil of his heart, so many stumbling blocks which hindered his struggling faith. Oh, how I wish to meet such an artist, such a Creator as the one whose heart imagined this sunrise and brought this perfect child into existence. If I only knew there was such a being. How can I believe in what I cannot see or feel?

Timothy watched the clouds of a sorrowful doubt cross his friend's face, and he rightly guessed the man's thoughts. The boy gazed up into the height of the sky and fell to thinking as hard as he could. I wish he knew God as well as I do, he yearned. But he finks he needs t' see 'im t' know he's really there. As if it weren't enough that God made the whole world an' all the bunches o' fings in it!

Ever since Arthur had begun to teach him about the marvels of Earth, the boy's heart had been filling with more and more amazement toward his Creator. God had made so many things; more than the eye could ever see. To Timothy, all of creation was an undoubtable display of God's existence and power. Every work of art has an artist. But this artist couldn't be seen, not yet at least. Was that a good enough reason to think he wasn't there?

"Arthur, I seen a nice paintin' in the gallery yesterday," the little boy began. "An' I looked t' see if I could read the name at the bottom, but d'ya know what? There weren't one!"

"Then the artist must have chosen to remain anonymous," the man remarked with a smile.

"What's 'nom'nus?" the boy laughed in good humor.

"It means that he left his name off of the painting on purpose because he didn't wish for people to know who had made it."

"But if there ain't no artist t' say he painted the picture, then 'ow do we know anyone painted it at all?"

Arthur gave him an amused smile. "I believe you are clever enough to answer that question on your own," he said with a laugh. Timothy laughed with him. Yes, he was clever enough. But strangely, even some of the cleverest scientists in the world had been blinded to obvious facts because the truth was too simple to believe.