Like a Mustard Seed

This little concept sketch about faith was developed for a "make a gift for < $5" exchange. I'm not completely satisfied with it. The woman as "Faith rooted in prayer" needs to be a bit more stylized.

Play Me

You are the sun

I am the moon

You are the word

I am the tune

Play me!

I was invited to the Denver stop of Neil Diamond's world tour tonight. And for the record, NEIL DIAMOND ROCKS!

Yes, my 30 year old sister and I rocked out with a bunch of grey hairs as the 67 year old Neil out did himself with a non stop, no intermission, 2 1/2 hour show. We were teethed on this guy's music. Our father lived and breathed Neil through the 80's.

He's got to be up there among the best song writers to ever live. He has an uncanny ability to reach down into the depths of a situation and make you feel it down to your toes. With that rich raspy voice and gift for melody he exudes Joy, Pain, Loneliness, Love, heartbreak, patriotism...

and Faith.

I noticed something tonight... A red thread in his work. A presence of the Holy. A wrestling with God, a questioning, then a discovery! And in the later work a coming home, a rest and a peace.

This was no Evangelical worship fest, but it was indeed a God honoring christian concert. His body of work speaks for itself. Consider this artist's song of salvation. She is the Holy Spirit.

PLAY ME



She was morning

And I was night time

I one day woke up

To find her lying

Beside my bed

I softly said

"Come take me"

For I've been lonely

In need of someone

As though I'd done

Someone wrong somewhere

I don't know where

Come lately

You are the sun

I am the moon

You are the words

I am the tune

Play me

Song she sang to me

Song she brang to me

Words that rang in me

Rhyme that sprang from me

Warmed the night

And what was right

Became me

You are the sun

I am the moon

You are the words

I am the tune

Play me

And so it was

That I came to travel

Upon a road

That was thorned and narrow

Another place

Another grace

Would save me

You are the sun

I am the moon

You are the word

I am the tune

Play me

The subtlety and beauty of these lyrics astound me. The task of the artist is to tell it slant. We communicate in ways that compel attention, but are not pregnant with clarity of meaning. A little discernment is required. Perhaps a work of the Spirit. Consider Christ's Parables!

No question this song gained popular acceptance as a song of romantic love and a muse. But this song is a beautiful prayer of submission and humility before God. God is the source, he is a mere reflector of God's glory. God is the message, he is colorful presentation - an instrument in His hand. And Neil offers his prayer: Play me!

This is my prayer.

Check out his lyrics from the last few years. They are more blatant in their content. These songs were new to me tonight:

Man of God, Pretty Amazing Grace, Hell Yeah

These songs aren't on his greatest hits albums. In fact his last few albums have barely gone gold, after having had a stream of multi platinum. They are worth another look though. This man is pointing us to God.

Emergence

God, I am in Love with you. I desire nothing but you. I want to die so I can see you right now face to face. You have my all. Where else can I go? You not only have the words of life, you are the lover of my soul. There is no way I can be taken out of your hand. Hardship may come. Doubt and pain likely lie before me. But come what may, I choose to say blessed be your name. I am yours.

You are faithful... when I am faithless. You are strong... when I am weak. You are impassioned... when I am apathetic. You just ARE. period. And I can't get enough of knowing you.

I pursued you and found you where you were to be seen. But there were places I did not look. Places I thought were out of bounds to you. (Imagine that) That is why I was in awe to find you within me, shaping down to the depths, guiding up from the abyss, and emerging victorious! I was shocked to see you in my own reflection. But I am not shocked anymore. I believe what you have told me. I know who I am. I am yours. I see that it is true! Lord, point me where I am to go.

You patch the broken vessels. You breath life into the dust. You restore that which was fallen. I am living proof.

Don't just be in me, Lord Jesus. Live in me.

Trees Walking

He looked up and said, "I see people; they look like trees walking around."

Did Jesus' power wane on that day he healed the blind man's sight? My theology says no, but that day it took two tries to achieve clarity of sight.

A traditional interpretation tells us Jesus uses different means to the same ends, and His more earthy means do not negate His divinity or omnipotence. In other words, it wasn't a screw up.

A little spit.
A little mud.
Rub it in the eyes.
Two tries

- then the man could finally see clearly.

While true, that interpretation sidesteps something. What is the point of Christ's methods, and the intermediate outcome? As I understand God's workings, He seems to care so much about journey and the means. The journey and the means of getting there are just as important as the destination and the end. And in this healing passage we encounter such a strange mid point on the journey - people like trees walking around.

We could be rational - scientific! Maybe the first try healed his eyes allowing the light to reach his brain, but a second healing was needed to fill his brain with all the necessary neural pathways and signs and symbols to understand what he could now see. Maybe...

But what if the middle step wasn't a deficiency or an accident? What if the man saw something true? What if he saw something real? A deeper alternate discernment that is not of the eyes? What if it was granted temporarily to him so it could be recorded in Scripture for all of us?


What if we, indeed, are the trees walking around?

The type of a tree is used again and again in God's revelation. There's the tree of knowledge of good and evil - the gateway to depravity. There's the burning bush - God making himself visible. There's the hyssop branch used to brush the doorpost with blood - marking God's people to be passed over. Then of course the Cross - God's chosen instrument of salvation. Vines and branches, bearing fruit, mustard seeds, withered figs, on and on. And this blind man sees people like trees walking around.

I don't mean to push a mixed metaphor too far, and I certainly am. But we could do a lot worse than seeing people as trees walking around.

The other night I had a vision. A dark tree was split by a light descending which unfolded into a book with one red page. The tree splayed open, and several lights emerged from the book, encircling it. There was a serene and vacant village in the background.

As I put the vision to paper, the act of working it before the Lord opened some new details: a wash of red, the blood of Christ; the curves of the supine branches touching the red, the use of hyssop at the passover; a hint of green, new life in Him; and then I had a real sense: I am this tree.

This calling to speak God's word exercised through artistic gifts is to make the invisible God visible - to make God accessible. It is His work and I am a vessel - sort of like a burning bush. But understand. It is not just me. I am not in this alone. I am this tree, but we are the trees! (here I mean the church) We, collectively, are God's vessel of visibility. We are the burning bush. We are branches dipped in blood applying grace to the lives of many. And we are the instrument of both Christ's pain and of God's salvation.

Split

I am the tree
Split by the Word
Shot like Lightening
Bone and Marrow
Soul and Spirit
Phased

I am the tree
Splayed all to see
Calm and frightening
Light and Dark
Turmoil and Tumult
Assuaged

I am the tree
Dipped in the blood
Like hysop brushed
Post and Lintel
Red right and center
Page

HD JESUS

What shall I say the kingdom of heaven is like?

There was a man who didn't have cable television. He didn't have Satellite Television. He didn't have an ATSC over the air HD tuner. He did have a television that was HD ready, but it didn't have the hardware to tune a signal on its own. It could still display an HD image if he could find a way to pass one to it. When he watched TV, he watched a low resolution analogue signal picked up by a pair of rabbit ears. But come February 17th, 2009 his system gave him nothing but static. Crystal clear vibrant images were beaming throughout his home, but he was not able to discern their presence.

So will it be for all those without the Spirit in the kingdom.

~

Spiritual discernment is sensing (looking, listening, feeling) for what God is saying in a given time, about a given thing. When your antennae are up, God can be heard and seen most everywhere. But, we don't all have the same hardware (or maybe I should say firmware). So many lack the tuner to pick up the HD JESUS all around us. Many others haven't configured the settings on their set top boxes, so to speak.

I've talked with my kids about praying to God, being with God and listening to Him - hearing Him guide and direct. I share with them the things God is teaching me. They are still young, so I have to keep it pretty simple. I love the story of young Samuel in the temple getting up in the night hearing God speak, and thinking it was Eli. I've encouraged them to be listening for God. A few days ago my wife told me that Isaac confided in her, "Mom, I can't hear God talking."

(I love this because it means He is trying to hear God!)

"What did you tell him?" I asked.

"We talked about how God speaks to us through his Word, and how it isn't always an audible voice." Then she asked me, "What would you have said?"

I would have said, "I think you will someday, if you really want to. We don't really listen with our ears. We listen with our hearts. We listen in Spirit." I would have told him that we learn how to hear God by spending time with Him, by trusting in Him, and the best place to start is to ask for His help to hear, and start reading and knowing the Word.

At which point he would have smiled and nodded and asked me to fasten his superman cape around his neck so he could fly off and save the day!

The coming of the Spirit of God at Pentecost was like this technology switch that is forthcoming for us. The old way of relating to God ceased. A new way had begun. This new way was better in every possible category.

What will you spend to make sure you can watch your TV come February? And how is your God reception?

Caiaphas

Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them,

“You know nothing at all. Nor do you understand

that it is better for you that one man should die for the people,

not that the whole nation should perish.”

He did not say this of his own accord, but being high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus would die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but also to gather into one the children of God who are scattered abroad.

Caiaphas was the leader of God's people. As such he exercised the gift of prophecy. What a profound prophecy he made! God let him in on something Jesus kept secret from all but His closest disciples - that He would die for the people. Caiaphas was given foreknowledge of God's plan. See that truth for what it is.

"You know nothing at all..." he proclaimed. It seems based on his prophesy he felt confident he did know something. "It is better for you..." he said. It seems he understood that the reason for the prophecy was the good of God's people. "One man should die for the people... not that the whole nation should perish." he boldly asserted, mirroring God's actual plan for the salvation of us all! But it's the next verse of John's gospel that gets me:

...So from that day on they made plans to put Jesus to death.

WHAT! How do you go from being a leader of the people of God, and hearing the prophesy of God, to being on completely the wrong side of God's plans? Caiaphas could have been like Nicodemas and honored Christ for the sacrificial lamb He was. The burden for carrying out the execution of Christ could have fallen on someonelse's shoulders.

Two things seem very clear to me from this passage.

1. God speaks His truth to the leaders of His people.

2. Even if they can and do hear God speak, a leaders sin can twist his thinking toward a wrong interpretation and a wrong course action.

Do you think the burden of guilt for Caiaphas' role in executing Christ landed him in Hell?

"Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers,

for you know that we who teach

will be judged with greater strictness."

Lord have mercy on us all. Protect us from our sin, and lead us into right interpretation, and right course of action.

Being Buletproof

You have heard it said,

"Be transparent,"

but I say to unto you,

"Be vulnerable."

Transparency is one directional. Vulnerability is open to a reaction - good, bad or ugly. Transparency is safe. Vulnerability can get you hurt.

"Let me in," He said.

"I can't really love you, because you never

gave me permission to hurt you."

I had never really thought about the difference between transparency and vulnerability. I had always valued being transparent.

"Why not?" I thought. "My worth and identity do not hinge on what you think of me."

I could tell you anything because I didn't care one lick what you thought. I saw this as a strength. I thought this was what self assured honesty looked like. I was bulletproof! And if you zinged one past my defenses, that would be the last time you were allowed to be that close.

Transparency can be an unassailable see-through fortress. I dwelled in transparency throwing out peace signs, platitudes and pebbles, protected from the wounds of the crowd or worse yet the wounds of a friend.

"Why would you let that person in?" I would ask when she was grieving the wounds of a friend. "Didn't you see this pain was coming? I don't understand."

"Wounds will heal," she said, "but in the wounding and healing we begin to know and love each other."

Christian faith is about relationship - relationship with God, relationship with others. And, relationship requires vulnerability. If I don't give you permission to speak into my life, with all of the risk and even assurance of pain that being open will bring, then you can't really know me. You can't really love me. I won't let you.

I see this from the other side now too. I can't reach you if your world is only see-through. The messy giving and receiving of love and pain is the hallmark of authentic Christian communion. Don't believe me? Then look at His hands, His side. That was vulnerable. That was love.

It doesn't get more open and receptive than Christ on the cross extending forgiveness for our sins.

Some say to be more Christ like we need to love more. I think the real deficiency is being vulnerable enough to receive. It is a sacred art.

Prayer, Hell, The Gospel, and Monsters

Tonight three different people asked me how my week was going.

"Fine, Just fine. Everything is fine!"

Not my exact words, but that is a close translation of intent. A round of golf, the latest digital camera, work, fine... just Fine.. Thanks for asking! Yet inside I am thinking... "Could we get out of here? I would love to talk with you more."

It wasn't obfuscation. My facade hid nothing dreadful or demeaning. Maybe it was laziness? Or just that the time wasn't right to let it all hang out. The shell is a bit of self enforced incubation. Timing is important. But I feel like a chick with a crack in its shell. I am driven to hatch.

I'll start with some innocuous details... *crack*

So how was my week?
MONSTERS!

Jack and I are working on a book. "Jackson's Monster Alphabet Book" is the working title. Here is a small sampling:

He is trying to get me to do the Greek alphabet instead, but I am pretty determined to stick with English. We can break into foreign markets once this one is a commercial success! :P Though, Lambda is for Luw (I AM DESTROYING!) would likely make a pretty good monster page!

So how was my week? *crack* *crack*
HELL!

I am in bolgia nine of the eighth circle of Hell. Here sowers of discord are repeatedly sliced apart for all eternity by a demon wielding a giant sword. As much as reading this work affects my mood, what must Dante have been like when he was writing it? I recall C.S. Lewis commenting on the darkness of Spirit he persisted through when writing the Screwtape Letters. While fiendishly clever and fantastic, Screwtape was just a minor demon compared to those black wraiths that inhabit Dante's Inferno.

So how was my week? *crack* *crack*
THE GOSPEL!

You can't dwell in Hell for long before you find yourself craving merciful fare. Some thirty chapters from four Gospels full of Christ's parables, prayers, healings, pronouncements, promises, rebukes, and even a transfiguration have kept me from drowning in darkness this week. But still every time Christ talks about Hell, or the place where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth, I find myself cringing, "That place is REAL!" Methinks we take it too lightly.

So how was my week? *crack* *crack*
PRAYER!

God gives direction, but he doesn't always tell you where to plant you foot on that next step. I am not anxious to know, as much as eager. I think it's time to widen the circle...

*crack*

*crack*

*crack*

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!

Gethsemane

I am sad about God's call
The loss of what I have
Yet briefest thought
of what lies ahead
and His constant care
brings me peace.

So sad and peaceful,
moving... Moving...

I long to bring them with me
I know the destination
my heart rends for them
with them
their hardship is my own
their pain pierces me

Father, hear my plea
Gethsemane

Two Divine Comedies

I had a conversation this week that prompted me to pick up a few books from the library.

I am down to the 7th circle of hell in inferno. Talk about stunning imagery. Dante's poetry makes the putrid depths of hell viscerally real. I am excitedly anticipating paradiso. The nagging annoyance in all of this is the time required to put images to paper. If I could let you look inside the images of my mind, what would you say? The demands of everyday life make the time to create a physical representation of mental imagery hard to find.

The second book I was prompted to pick up is The Princess Bride.


I have been retelling the story to my sons from memory for the last week at bedtime. It has been remarkable watching their enthralled faces and disbelief at some of the plot twists. I shared my story telling adventure with a friend and he said I should definitely read the original. I never have. Though I love the movie. I can't wait!


INCONCEIVABLE!

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.

The dust of the earth

Settling dust gathered in heaps

erected lumped and crumbling

Pushed so by the makers hand

particular, present, stumbling

Yearning for a greater sense

enveloped, set ablaze

Blown up in a swirling dance

toward universal raised

Glinting rainbow sparkle

the Son shines radiant through

Each particular speck reflects

His radiance anew

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.

Word vs Image

It strikes me that language and the written word are just as suspect as imagery - just as incapable of clarity or purity of thought. Yes, Christ did make the Word known and we recorded it in a book. Yes the Scriptures are sacred, inerrant, inspired, etc. Yet our interpretation of that word leads to vastly different conclusions. I’m not talking about gross heresy here necessarily. Even within the pale of orthodoxy, there are differences of interpretation which show words to be imprecise, and wanting. I realize I loathe this imprecision. We were made for understanding. These broken vessels (language, human bodies) are poor for holding truth, and they are poor for dispensing truth.

Poor.
Poor.
Poor.

Come Lord Jesus, quickly!

Confession

Art has become an exercise in confession. It is making the most personal public. (James 5) If art is worth anything (for me) it is fueled by the emotional reality and depth of a moment, and an attentive presence to that depth, and a yearning to express it. Words are good. Conversation is good. Visual art (in the act of creation) is better yet, another means of communication. I am giving birth to a tangible reference of a real moment in time. Not intellectual discourse, but a direct presence of the heart and a direct expression of the heart. This is artistry. Sharing it is communal confession.

Expectations

I expected to see the fruit of artistic expression as an appropriate outlet for stress. I found that I did indeed feel relieved and refreshed through practice of art. I used to fear that being artistic meant I had to live in strong emotion. Instead I find that through art I can experience, express, and move on with emotion. Emotion leaves the tormented place inside my head, and finding expression, it takes residence on a piece of paper where I can reflect on it more objectively.

I expected the practice of artistry would provide time of silence, solitude, meditation, and reflection before God. I encountered this in spades. I have fallen in love with my sketch journal. Not only as a place to record ideas, but a tool for remembering and marking what God has shown.

I expected to gain a new model and praxis for artistry as part of a wholly surrendered Christian walk. This was a struggle. I had many doubts about the holiness and usefulness of art in life and ministry. I had relegated it to icing, instead of the core cake of my life. Indeed, as I surrendered my pen back to the Lord, I have found new joy and life in being a Christian artist. This has not replaced the call or yearning for pastoral ministry; it has colored it. It is now rendered lifelike, real, vibrant, and personal to me. I am very excited about this.

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)

Raised

Baptism is a profound mystery. I love how God has left us physical cues (clues?) to his inner workings. We are burried in death and raised to new life in Christ. It is symbol. It is a statement of faith. It is an ordinance, a sacrament, a thing of beauty.

Leave it in the dust

Did you know that it is hard for me to receive?

I like being self sufficient. I don't stand up in church in need to prayer; but I probably should more often. I love the support of friends and God. I love knowing that in a crisis they will be there for me. Yet, I strive to stay out of crisis. At times I want to burn out just so I can feel that love, just so I can leave my self sufficiency in the dust.

Leave it in the dust.

Similar Things from Dissimilar Sources

Similar things from dissimilar sources
Soul in constant search of purchase
Hold on to something...
Wrong!!! Let Go.
It is the clasping grasping fear
that blocks the ear to hear
Cling to rock and twig and branch
Rely on muscles strained and cramped

He lets go of his purchse and relies on the wind
arms outstretched he feels it invelop him
and he looks back at his rock
as it grows smaller and less significant with distance...
With a chuckle he thinks,
"What a funny thing to cling to."

Like dust it dissolves and carried away
The wind has his faith.
Weightless, backward and the sting of loss.
As he begins, his purchase within himself is turned to dust
it dissolves and carried away
The wind has his faith.

Weightless forward now he sees his destiny
looming in a fog of atmosphere
The Flames!
Like a meteor to earth he burns:
the dust is carried away.
The face of the wind and his outstretched soul
reaching through the flame
unchanged in Spirit
purified in mix

I believe in you
to pull me through

Take my hand and find your purchase
This rock is unchanging
and these muscles do not tire!

Fascination Frankenstein

The man on the road listens to your impression
and sees himself within.
He sees where you were blind,
He holds the corner piece.

Light not taste or smell
simply touch, see and hear
no sounding grape our
tasting yellow hybrid brings
dissimilar distraction
and miscued interaction

unintentional
quite exceptional?
no... but somehow yes
Fascination Frankenstein!
What is it we combine?

The smell of moonlight
The glow of gravy
Perversion of proper position
Connection from intuition
Veiled in wind...
A language long forgotten
and a lesson still to be learned
Veiled in wind...

Comes the Rosetta stone, The answer!
Laplace! Get the answer!
The Reason! Long hand...
see where you went wrong
The resolution and absolution...
My God It's the Man!

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.

The Truth

We fight, we rest
We run, we weep
We grind ourselves up
We turn and turn and turn

He scolds, He holds
He comforts, He molds
He heals, He persists
He stays firm and firm and firm

We learn

Here I Raise My...

Are you ever struck by a word?

I had a moment last spring where a word became a focal point, a harbinger of clarity, a perfect title for a project!

Ebenezer

I've loved the hymn, “O Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” I remember when my worship leader stopped mid verse and asked, "Does anybody know what an Ebenezer is?" He went on to explain that the prophet Samuel had erected a stone on the field of battle after Israel defeated the Philistines to commemorate God's help (1 Samuel 7:12). The word Ebenezer means "stone of help." And to be sure, God's help is an awesome thing to commemorate. But God's help wasn't the concept that grabbed me last spring. It was something else about a stone of help, something in the means and something in the remembering.

Among other duties Christian Artists make Ebenezers. We create that we might remember.

Too easily the memory of God’s faithfulness fades. The prophet who visualizes clearly, “this was important and must be remembered,” is serving well by making a signpost, an object, a remembrance. Maybe it’s a painting, or a song, or a poem, or a verse carved above the door. And maybe, just maybe it is a blog.

There is much much more to say, but here is to good beginnings!