So much Vibrancy!

How did I let this practice of blogging slip away? I just re-read much of it, and there is so much vibrancy. So much promise. So much emotion and truth. So many crystallized fragments of wisdom that briefly flashed past this distorted looking glass of mine. They would have dissipated into the aether never to be remembered had they not been codified here.

WRITE IT DOWN!

That's a challenge to you. To me. Let's get back to it.

The Sacrifice

How do you know when you have given enough?

When can you say, "I need?"

I might die before you right now,

But I will do so for you.

This is Sacrifice

And I give all

Empathic

This last Sunday I was opening our worship service. It can so easily be a role call of announcements, a greeting, a perfunctory prayer. But that misses the point doesn't it? We are there to WORSHIP not go through motions. Far be it from me for any part of our service to be perfunctory. So regularly on Sunday mornings I find myself prayerfully reflecting on my week, and looking for what God might have me share with my congregation.

For two weeks now I have been immersed in Dante's Inferno. Visceral and pungent images of hell have been lingering in my peripheral consciousness. Needless to say it has been a dark season. Saturday night I was praying with another, and I was so touched by an evident sin in their lives that I began to weep. Visions of hell make the presence of passing sins like envy or that ever persistent pride much more frightening.

WE ARE NOT MADE FOR THIS STUFF. LUMINOUS BEINGS ARE WE!
(pardon the Yoda Paraphrase)

Dante intentionally matched his poetic stylings to the coarseness of his subject. At times he is rough and vulgar. But this is in direct proportion and ratio with what he is describing. I take heart knowing Paul does the same thing. Sin IS vulgar stuff. There is one circle where the identity of a soul cannot be discerned because it is so self smeared with sh*t. That was the image that was in my mind Sunday morning as I opened our worship service. Luminous beings self smeared with sh*t. Rough? Yes. Vulgar? Yes. True? ...

How is it with your soul?

As I delivered my opening monologue and call to worship I was on the brink of tears in empathy. The chief aim of man is to glorify God and enjoy him forever. We do not have glory to offer to God. He IS glory. He IS glorious. We are simply reflective. We are made to be mirrors of His glory. We are shiny, if you will. But in the fallen state of sin we are smeared, dulled, tainted. And the sad part is that we are often so ashamed of our souls appearance, so humiliated by our depravity, that we refuse to return to the only one who makes us clean! There is no joy in the life of an unrepentant Christian. Unrepentant we are miserable like Adam choosing to hide himself from He who can see all things. The only one we delude is ourselves. Our chief aim is to enjoy Him. To do that we must know Him and be known by Him. He does not stand in judgement of those who will re-turn to Him. He waits with open arms. His mercies are new every morning.

We create this time and place each week on a Sunday morning for one purpose. To commune with our God. It is an sensitive group ritual. It is a rhythm of life and faith. Let nothing keep you from turning yourself over into His care. Whether you are prepared, ready, distracted, beaten, or self smeared in sh*t... Recall that your true self is shiny. Re-turn now to the cleansing flood, His cleansing blood.

Worship your God.

Unto A Point

"It is not by might, and not by power, but by My Spirit" says the Lord of Hosts.

We are under-girded and enabled unto a point!

Singularity!

Unity!

Co-Heir

I attended the International mentoring Conference, and participated in the creativity as mentor workshops. I was overwhelmed. Interacting with the people from around the country and world who were there and seeing the images I created impact their spirits blew me away.
Here are some comments I received about the co-heir image:

"It is so alive, the movement."

"I feel invited in."

"The spiral of people and the way it extends off the canvas makes me feel like it is a larger picture. There are more people involved in this connected chain. I am in that picture somewhere."

"The wounded hand in the center... It is all about that isn’t it."

"There is something of the resurrected body here."

"If I saw this when I died, I would be happy."

"The bowing/worshiping figure captures me."

"They are all connected!"

"This is the great cloud of witnesses, I am urged to run the race."

As I reflected on the conference, I realized that the co-heir image is where I AM. Where I want to be. I sketched a joyous picture “out of the mouth the heart speaks.” I could clearly say that Christ is what has overflowed from my heart. “No longer sin reigns in me.”

I had a hard time drawing light, joyous, happy images before. For the next several days that was all I could draw. I had connected with an inner place of great peace and joy. It felt sustaining. I made the co-heir image my desktop. Every time I look at it I feel reminded that Christ stands inviting me into that place of active joyful engagement.

Transitional

This is a yearning. A transition between sin and co-heir. A picture of repentance. A picture of found peace.

Sin

I had presented my sin image to my small group and saw that it did not just portray my sin. It sparked a discussion about sin that was real, honest, open. It allowed people to comment on what they saw about sin in that image. Many times what they saw was different from what I saw or felt as I made it. They were putting their own understanding and processing of sin into the image. It was an effective tool for delving into the heart of a difficult to discuss topic.

Here are a collection of comments I have had about the sin image in several contexts.

“That eye says, ‘ Don’t you look at me.’”

“That eye says, ‘I can’t believe I did that again.’”

“I am at one time repulsed by this image, and unable to look away.”

“This is sin in a person who knows it is bad. Sin could have looked seductive, but this is a view of sin as incredibly damaging.”

“That’s not what I thought it would look like at all. It looks pathetic. I thought sin would look more proud, angry and strong.”

“It looks sick, diseased, heavy…”

“Erik, that image has been in my head all week. It is something about that eye. I want to focus on the co-heir image, but I can’t get past the sin image.”

“Erik, I told my kids about the image. They want to see it. Can I have a copy?”

“I am comforted to know others feel the way I do.”

My eyes are welling with tears as I remember the insights that people shared as they processed the image. It really does have facility. God used and spoke through my art. I am moved. Humbled.

Callous Attention

I have been spending time focusing on discernment related to God’s leading in my art as a means of communication with the world – Speaking His Word! In general terms I have discovered a very tangible peace and contentment in this abiding exercise of attentiveness. That is how I would describe discernment. It is simply attentiveness and presence. It is a sort of positional listening and looking. This is so because God is always present, always revealing, always proclaiming. We simply forget to see.

Maybe it is an over-stimulation of sorts. I can “not hear” my four year old with great acumen. He can be standing right in front of me, asking his question repeatedly, and I will not hear him at all. I have developed a sort of callous attention when it comes to the frequency (used both ways) of his voice. This is not a good thing, but it is true.

Callous attention. This is the condition of sin when it comes to our senses. We have callous attention when all around us God is screaming our names! Urging, beckoning, cajoling, exercising every method to make himself known. Touch me! Hear me! Taste me! See me! Know me!

Yet His everyday revelation is subtle. This is the oxymoronic strangeness of God. He speaks with a screaming subtlety. A subtlety like radio waves for a person without a radio, or a WI-FI connection for a person without a device to connect. I am a sign saying "HEY! FREE WIFI!"

Discernment isn't a skill we can develop. It isn't an exercise, or a practice. It is a gift. One we simply have to be open to receive.

Are you open?

Step Two

So I am in the center of His will, right...

Rebounded, repented,
surrendered, accepted.

And now all is exuberantly peaceful. Quiet. Eyes closed or just unfocused. I can literally feel a bristling ascension of sensation that seems to come from my center, curve around my chest, under my arms and across my back at the base of my scapula where it meets my spine. The sensation nestles there briefly between my shoulder blades and I have to roll my head back and tighten my shoulders. My eyes focusing now, upwards to Heaven.

Hello Abba. It is an embrace.

Sometimes I lift up the day in a practice of examen. Sometimes I offer praise. Sometimes I intercede for someone. Always I wait. And whatever comes to me I accept and engage before Him with a calm assurance of His trustworthy love and unchanging proximity.

If this were the whole of communion it would be enough. But he does not leave us here, at least not for long...

(to be continued)

Step One

"How do you reconnect with God?" she asked.

It was a good question. He can seem so distant. He can seem unapproachable.

"I don't know." I said, "It's different."

"Sometimes it's a special word from a verse or passage, or a feeling that whelms in me when I see a great sunset. Sometimes it's more formal prayer. Once it was a pine cone that made His presence known. He's spoken to me in visions and through my illustrations. But when it comes right down to it, I feel like I have a switch in my brain. I can flip the switch, turn my focus inward, and just know He is right there with me. That capacity is always there if I will remember to use it."

Now C.S. Lewis gave great metaphors and illustrations of spiritual principles with a disclaimer essentially saying, if it doesn't help - forget it. It's not like it is inspired. Here I give the same disclaimer:

God isn't "out there" in any sense that precludes Him being "in here." The Holy Spirit is a vital part of prayer because God is jealous. God is jealous. I think He is jealous for Himself. We have been given the Holy Spirit. In giving Him to us God has created a tension and a longing within Himself. The three persons of the God Head live in constant communion. When I choose to be in sin, separate from God, I take the Spirit with me. That causes tension. When I become aware of that separation, I can turn inward to the Spirit, and relinquish control to Him. Then like a magnet, the Spirit carries me directly back into the full presence of God.

Sometimes I feel like the Spirit is bottled up in me. Chained to a wall. Rapping his finger on the plain oak table in the barren room of my selfishness, sitting there, resigned to being toted around like a discontent toddler at the mall. But in those moments when I become aware of what I am doing, and turn that switch, it is like I have handed the key to the cell block over to my prisoner, and He immediately unlocks the door, clears the debris in a single leap and runs for me - with me - back into the presence of the Father where He is received with widespread waiting arms, and me along with Him. Every time.

Every time.

Nothing about the process seems foreign to me. Though it is remarkable. In giving the Spirit to us God has stretched himself (so to speak). And the jealous elastic rebound of that stretching carries me right into His center.

Then things really get good! (to be continued)

Thoughtless

Late at night, and I want to collect my thoughts.


But I have no thoughts.


There is a dull pain below and behind my ears. My eyes strain at the blinding blue light of my laptop screen as it burns away my peripheral vision contrasting so sharply with the dark room beyond. You can faintly hear the nuk-nuk of a pacifier soothing a restless infant.


No thoughts.


Maybe I should draw, but that would mean I'd have to get up. Not likely. Besides, I've been sketching some wiry dragon like faces lately. I feel like it is an image of sin again. Maybe evil, because it is outside of me this time. corrupting. I don't want to draw that now.

And what about the doubter and the wall builder. No! No. Stop.

I should pray. Rest. Turn the inward sight to the Holy One. Be still and present. yes.


There's a thought.

Contentment

Among the other projects I am musing over and working on, the spark of a new one has sprung. There is no surprise that much of art blossoms from that which is passionate. Strong emotion lends itself to verse and symbol. It is easy for me to put pen to blank page when I am bubbling with inner angst, or seething with a rage demanding a cipher, or even when my heart is fluttering with new love. But, what of a passionate contentment? What of an unbridled peace? What of exuberant tranquility of spirit? Has this ground been covered?

My mind swings to Walden. Others may have trod this ground before I guess. I’m not sure.

Today I feel unshakable. There is nothing driving me. Nothing is exceedingly wrong. Nothing is exceedingly right. In truth I am getting over a lingering cold, and am physically sapped. My family is together plodding through the rough and tough fist months of our third son. We are also musing and sighing at his coos and gurgles. Work is on a tight deadline, and I come home drained. School is a persistent yet fruitful exercise in diligence and good scheduling. Forays into Spiritual Direction have had me anxious. But I am unshakable.

I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine! I am the branch attached to the vine. I am vineyard producing good fruit. It just isn’t harvest season, and I am good with that. The verdant young shoots are evident. Everything is promise. I am not just good. I am exceedingly, passionately, exuberantly content.

It isn’t an absence of sin or temptation. It’s just recognition of journey, and refusal to take my eyes off of the truth. A master is at work and its good to be the clay.