My Approach to Art: Get Ready and Wait

Breath for the Bones Book Club: Thoughts on Chapter 6

Within all of creation there is potential for beauty and chaos. We only have to look within ourselves to see these two forces at work. Nature illustrates it daily, with its wind that can either make the tree branches shimmer or uproot the whole mass as if it were a mere twig.

We may pretend otherwise, but the world and all in it is unpredictable. Our world reflects its Creator, who is also unpredictable.

Unpredictable doesn’t mean untrustworthy, however. On the contrary, God’s actions never veer from the holiness and goodness of His character, although the means He uses are ever new. It is God’s heart that we can trust.

I have come to find peace in the wildness of God. If God were predictable, I would be able to corner Him, box Him in, control Him. That sort of god deserves no respect. The true God, however, cannot be managed or tamed. These qualities are most shockingly seen in God’s unending, untamed love for us, displayed at the cross of Jesus Christ where His perfect life is given so that sinful man might be reconciled back unto this wild, unpredictable, loving God.

Consider this conversation between the characters in C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe as they discuss meeting the Great Lion Aslan, who is a sort of Christ figure:

Lucy: “Is he safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”

Mrs. Beaver: “That you will, dearie, and make no mistake, if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”

Lucy: “Then he isn’t safe.”

Mr. Beaver: “Safe? Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ’Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

In our attempts to feel safe with an unpredictable God, we might redefine Him to our own liking or ignore Him or take on an air of (ignorant) bravery. But this does not change God—for He is the King, I tell you.

And why change Him? For although He isn’t safe and predictable, He is good. And He wants us to draw near to Him.

As a Christian artist, I come near to this good yet unsafe God because He is my Muse. I create by His nudges and promptings—which are also unpredictable. And that’s the adventure of working with God. Luci Shaw explains it like this in Breath for the Bones chapter 6, “Listening to the Muse”:

Spirituality is very like the creative impulse toward art—often fickle and unpredictable. We have an untamable, undomesticated Spirit (whom we tend to trivialize and formulize in order to feel safe), and the artistic and spiritual gifts from his holy hand are not to be summoned with a flick of the wrist or a pleading tone of voice. (Shaw 79–80)

As I see it, the work of the artist, the Christian who is an artist, is to get ready and wait. For “art and belief are not conveniences, nor do they call to us at convenient times” (Shaw 81). God is not on my timetable; I am to adjust to be on His.

I get ready by listening for my Muse’s call on the wind, by seeking to commune with Him in quiet and solitude, and by seeking to know Him (and not merely use Him for my artistic purposes).

And I wait for my Muse to inspire and move and infuse my creative offering for the unsafe yet good, untamable yet trustworthy God.

_______________

Meet the Club! Read Other Breath for the Bones Chapter 6 Posts
Queenie at Rancho Ruperto

Join our book club discussion each Thursday.

 

Living Life as Story

You’ve likely noticed the themes of creativity and story appearing here recently. Our book club has been pondering Luci Shaw’s Breath for the Bones, which follows creativity’s footprint throughout our lives and identifies God’s embedding of story and drama throughout history. We’ve pondered metaphor and parable and analogy; we’ve met the God of Story, and we’ve celebrated imagination.

As is often the case when the heart is ruminating on a topic, the topic begins to emerge in all sorts of ways and in unlikely places. So it is for me with the themes of creativity and story—I have started to see them pop up again and again. God is opening my awareness to how true it is that history is truly HisStory.

Story was front-and-center again last week, in a presentation by author Donald Miller. I had the pleasure of attending his book tour stop for his latest release, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years—which ponders the nuances of life as story and ourselves as the characters in that story.

Here are a few notes from his talk:

A good story requires sacrifice and conflict.

If our lives are to be a good story, one that tells much of Jesus Christ the Author of our faith, we cannot shrink back from sacrifice or conflict. It will take sacrifice to conquer conflict.

God has introduced conflict into our lives, into our stories . . . and that conflict does not disappear by walking with God. How we handle conflict will affect the beauty of our story.

God is calling us to pick up our pens and continue to write a good story with our very lives.

What has stayed in my heart from Miller’s talk is the encouragement to live with passion for God’s name. Even when my heart is tugged upon to act or speak or write in a way that will help others and tangibly show the love of God, I tend to hang back. The reasons are many, but when they are lined up in text, I see them for what they are: excuses rooted in fear.

Miller prods us, as followers of Christ, to get involved in the script of our lives. As a follower of Christ, as one who has been bought and redeemed for His Story, I should be all the more free to take chances in this story and place my trust in God who is at once the Director, Author, Manager, and Audience.

I am a terrible actress, so I take comfort in the reality that life is no game of make believe, reserved for those who are talented thespians. Life is real; it is more than a play. But as each day (each scene?) unfolds, I can take my cues from the God who lovingly watches my every move and listens to my every line and coaches me to live a better story.

 

Give Water: Clean and Simple

The Walt Disney World Half Marathon is Saturday, January 9, 2010. I’m registered. That’s 13.1 miles. Of running. [Yes, I am a little scared.]

Why would I do such a thing? Well . . . I felt cornered. You see, I was sensing God’s lead to stretch my small bounds of discipline and discomfort. Running was the training ground, not only for my body, but also for my mind, heart, and will. When it comes to running, there is no doubt: I need God.

So I set my goal on something that seemed unobtainable and for which I would have no option but to depend on God’s strength and help. A half marathon fit that description. So I registered for the Disney race, trusting that Disney characters and “It’s a Small World” would help me forget that I am running for two-plus hours. Then I started shuffling about more consistently (otherwise known as training). And God helped me overcome some major mental blocks that had previously prevented me from running more than 20 minutes at a time.

Then a friend (hey, Shannon!) told me of Active:Water, an organization that helps athletes use their disciplined efforts to raise money for Blood:Water Mission to combat the water crisis in Africa. Mike and I love the work being done by Blood:Water; I couldn’t turn away from the opportunity to help them help others.

All donations go toward clean water efforts at Blood:Water Mission. Will you help? See my fund-raising page at Active:Water. And please pass the word!

 

Don’t Forget to Dream

Breath for the Bones Book Club—Thoughts on Chapter 5

In a recent post by Gordon Atkinson on High Calling Blogs, Gordon tells us of Gabi, whose achingly beautiful vision to serve God by loving kids in Uganda is enough to rouse the most callous of hearts. After hearing just a bit of Gabi’s vision, I too, like Gordon, am left wondering about the smallness of my own life, not just in terms of accomplishing and doing, but also in the dreaming.

Dreaming is a form of imagination: It engages the heart and mind with a vision of what could be. There is great value in the heart’s breaking and longing of something grand for the glory of God and the love of others.

Sadly, dreaming and imagination are often the practices of youth. As most grownups do, I have neglected my imagination in favor of the practicality and probability that floats upon the calm waters of likelihood.

But Luci Shaw calls upon the necessity of imagination in the creative life in “Celebrating Imagination,” chapter 5 of Breath for the Bones. She says that “not only is imagination helpful to us as observers and interpreters of life, it is an essential part of the creative act that brings life into focus for us” (Shaw 72).

To bring life into focus, imagination (dreaming) is necessary. They are hope embodied. So God uses imagination and dreaming (that He embedded within us) to coax our eyes to see and our ears to hear what is just beyond this earthly existence.

In his letter to the believers in Ephesus, Paul reminds us why it is safe to hope:

“Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen.” —Ephesians 3:20–21

If God is able to do far more abundantly beyond all I can ask or think, shouldn’t I have some very lofty requests and thoughts? God created us with these abilities—certainly we cannot out-ask or out-think God. So why do we hold back? Why don’t we live large for God’s name? Why aren’t there more dreamers like Gabi in the world?

Why do we forget to dream?

Some Christians are leery of taking God at His Word in the asking and thinking beyond what is practical, fearing we might look to God as our magic wish machine. Shaw soothes such worries with the caution that our imaginations must first be “properly exercised” (65) to be useful and in step with God’s purposes—think trained and tethered to the Spirit. Here she also applies C. S. Lewis’s phrase “baptized imagination.”

With dreaming and imaginations aligned with God’s purposes and ways, we are free to let our asking and thinking rise to the clouds. And just as God coaxed me into the broad pasture of wild dreams, so I am to coax others there through the words God places in my heart and soul.

And what of the dreams that whisper to our hearts—the dream to help a neighbor, a troubled teen, a struggling widow, a run-down neighborhood, a starving country . . . what do we do with these inklings of the extraordinary?

We nurture them. We take them to God and ask Him to refine and purify the dream and our very hearts as well, so that all might be to His glory. We take steps forward, steps back. We pray and pray. We wait. We get counsel. We adjust our lives for something bigger than ourselves. And then we dream some more.

_______________

Meet the Club! Read Other Breath for the Bones Chapter 5 Posts
Queenie at Rancho Ruperto

Join our book club discussion each Thursday.

 

Guest Post: The Beautiful Imperfect

Breath for the Bones Book Club: Thoughts on Chapter 4 by Queenie from Rancho Ruperto
This week’s book club post is provided by my dear friend Queenie. Without her, writing group would be terribly lonely. For more from this tender heart, visit her blog.

I grew up attending a small, rural, old-fashioned church with bare wooden pews and a cappella singing. Currently, however, I go to a largish church with a modern, comfortable sanctuary, three services, and concert-style worship music. I didn’t realize how much my sensibilities had changed to match the latter until I attended a weekend program whose trappings reminded me strongly of the former. I was both intrigued and repelled by the unpretentious, unapologetically homespun feel of the weekend, and I couldn’t stop thinking about my ambivalent reaction.

Society encourages us to seek success and its trappings. Even when it comes to church, we want to be a part of something that is prosperous and respected. Give us the polished, the professional. We’re looking for hip and highbrow, not anything imperfect, out-of-date, or, God forbid, tasteless. The problem is that I think that somehow these are the very things we do, indeed, need.

Why?

When we experience what is less than aesthetically ideal or technically flawless but which comes from the heart, we are reminded of the person behind the offering. We glimpse the truth that we are human, imperfect, even frail. And that those around us are exactly the same as we are. What’s more, we remember that Jesus has called us to love each other, weaknesses and all.

We may not want this. Our style-driven culture craves neatly-packaged worship experiences that enhance the decor of our lives. But I’m convinced that instead of a perfectly-manicured Christian assemblies, what we need is some hard work and mess: dirt beneath the fingernails of our lives with each other, if you will. I need to hear my neighbor praising God next to me, whether or not she can carry a tune. I need to know that everyone’s help is required to make the next church activity function (whether or not we can all can do our jobs perfectly). I need to be sure my fellow churchgoers know and care about my life, whether or not I have it all together.

What does this have to do with Luci Shaw’s Breath for the Bones chapter this week? In Chapter 4, “Learning From Story,” Shaw addresses the crucial role of narrative in divine revelation, reflecting on the fact that story gives truth flesh and bone, something tangible which our minds—and more importantly, our hearts—can apprehend. In many ways, that which is simple and imperfect provides these stories as well, the stories of ordinary lives lived in humble ways for our humble but extraordinary King. As we see and participate in others’ stories, it becomes clear to us that we need to add our own story, for without it the narrative is incomplete.

Like a simple and human-scale get-together, stories have endings that don’t always tie up neatly. The truth which story offers is not a thoroughly-analyzed, 5-point outline that can be projected on the large screen with attention-grabbing graphics. It’s a patient, earnest truth that slowly takes root in and transforms the rotted detritus of a person’s heart. It’s found in the non-glitzy narrative of Jesus, a less-than-gorgeous guy (“He had no beauty or majesty that we should desire him.”) from a seedy sort of place (“Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?”) who nevertheless expressed the most powerful reality of all: God stooping to our humanity to show his love—the only truly perfect thing in this world.

_______________

Meet the Club! Read Other Breath for the Bones Chapter 4 Posts
My post featured at Rancho Ruperto

Join our book club discussion each Thursday.

 

To Catch a Metaphor

Metaphor catching isn’t easy. They can be sneaky, tough to follow. But that was the task before us in Creative Stretch #3. So I grabbed my gear and got my hunting tools ready.

First, you have to know what you’re looking for. So I kept my mind fixed upon the definition given by Webster’s:

Metaphor: a figure of speech in which a word or phrase literally denoting one kind of object or idea is used in place of another to suggest a likeness or analogy between them.

And then I kept my heart’s lamp set on the God of all wisdom, the One who spoke breathtaking tales of parables never before heard. Jesus is the Author I want to emulate.

With these filters in place, I set out to catch a metaphor.

I looked in all the obvious places. In the sky. In the waters. In the clouds. In conversations. In the hum of our household appliances. In kids. In my work. In the costumed participants of a 5K race.

In all those places, no metaphors could I find. They must have heard me coming and took cover under the rocks and behind the curtains.

My tracking skills must be off, I thought.

So I looked to my husband. He’s got a keen eye for such things. (Under his practical exterior, he’s got the heart of a creative.) I was right to ask him for help on my metaphor hunt, for he had already caught one while he was in Chicago. Here’s what he trapped for me.

Chicago has many homeless people, many who approach unknown passersby for a cash handout. To whom should we give? Whose life stories do we trust? Are we funding addictions rather than meeting needs for food, clothing, and shelter? Such questions abound when approached for help—because we do not know the thoughts and intentions of another person’s heart.

What if we give and it’s to their detriment? If we give will they have what they need to get off the street? Such questions abound because we do not know if the people we help will be helped enough so they don’t have to come back and ask again tomorrow. We want to give more than a momentary handout; we want to give the gift of a new life.

People of all means approach God for a handout. They don’t know Him, but they come to submit their requests. They want more money, more attention, more popularity, more notoriety, and more success. They want better relationships with family, friends, and coworkers. They want world peace and food and clothing and shelter. And a puppy.

Sometimes, in God’s providence, these requests come to fruition. But ultimately, God wants to give more than a momentary handout. He wants to give the gift of Life found in Jesus Christ.

Even so, God quite often bestows blessing upon those who just want the handout. It’s this love without strings that we need to mimic as the Spirit leads us.

And that’s what was found on my metaphor hunt.

_______________

Read Other Creative Stretch #3 Posts
What sort of metaphor did you catch? Share it in the comments or leave a link to your post and I’ll add it here.

Watch for the next Creative Stretch—coming soon!

 

Swatting the Bug of Discontentment

Hollow voice begging for the ever elusive “more.”

Grasping hands that are already plenty full, plenty busy.

Empty stomach that’s just been fed.

That’s how I describe the bug of discontentment. He’s tiny, but oh-so-persistent.

Have you ever been bugged by him? I have. If I don’t pay attention, he coaxes me to shop when I don’t need another material thing, eat when I’m not hungry, and feel lonely when God is always near.

My friend Leah over at practicing joy has a three-post series on how to shoo him away by moving from discontentment to contentment. You won’t find a formula there, but you will find powerful Truth. And Truth is better than formula any day.

See what she has to say. You’ll be inspired and enlightened—and by God’s grace, a bit more content.

Contentment, Part 1
Contentment, Part 2
Contentment, Part 3

 

Creative Stretch #3: Metaphor Hunting

Creative Stretch posts encourage “the care and feeding of the imagination and the spirit” (Luci Shaw, Breath for the Bones).

Many times I have had the pleasant surprise of experiencing God’s nearness when I haven’t really been looking for Him. He crashes through my toughened senses to capture my attention in some unexpected way—perhaps the way the sun is breaking through the clouds or the way geese land upon the waters. Then I remember the truth, that God is real, that He is near.

I’ve also watched scenarios play out before my eyes and can almost hear the whisper of the Lord, “Watch this, Erin. There is a parallel truth here.” Then a metaphor unfolds, all delicate and newborn for me to pluck and treasure. (As was the case here.)

Both of these usher the holy into the commonplace, teaching me to see God more fully.

In Breath for the Bones, author Luci Shaw says “metaphor doesn’t explain but illustrates something true by showing us something else that illustrates the same truth” (Shaw 52). She expands upon this, explaining:

Metaphor is imagination serving truth. As we are seeing, God consistently uses this imaginative way of helping us to translate what we may think of as abstract “spiritual truth” into something accessible and possible, and real. (Shaw 49–50)

For this Creative Stretch, let’s allow our imaginations to serve truth. Ask God to open your eyes over the next days, to show you the divine tucked in among the earthly. What sort of parallels do you find? What metaphors are discovered?

For an inspirational kick-start, check out this recent offering by Leah.

Then set your eyes to see and your ears to hear, and come on back to share how God broke into your little world.

___________

Yes, today is Thursday, and it should be book club discussion day—but we’re taking a one-week hiatus.

Come back next Thursday for discussion posts on chapter 4, “Learning from Story.”

 

Breaking the Static Cling of Worry

In Bible study today, worry was our topic—worry about people, places, and things . . . concern for safety and health and comfort and work . . . apprehension for living in faith while fearing what that sort of life may require.

Worry is a nuisance, certainly. It is also, in its worst forms, faith-stealing and action-crippling. God knows this. So worry is addressed in the Word to give us some instruction and hope. And Jesus, being Peace embodied, combats worries on our behalf when we cozy up close to the Truth.

We looked at a passage from one of Peter’s letters (2 Pet. 5:6–11). In it, he tells us how to combat worry. Here’s the passage from the Amplified Bible:

Therefore humble yourselves [demote, lower yourselves in your own estimation] under the mighty hand of God, that in due time He may exalt you, casting the whole of your care [all your anxieties, all your worries, all your concerns, once and for all] on Him, for He cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully. Be well balanced (temperate, sober of mind), be vigilant and cautious at all times; for that enemy of yours, the devil, roams around like a lion roaring [in fierce hunger], seeking someone to seize upon and devour. Withstand him; be firm in faith [against his onset—rooted, established, strong, immovable, and determined], knowing that the same (identical) sufferings are appointed to your brotherhood (the whole body of Christians) throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace [Who imparts all blessing and favor], Who has called you to His [own] eternal glory in Christ Jesus, will Himself complete and make you what you ought to be, establish and ground you securely, and strengthen, and settle you. To Him be the dominion (power, authority, rule) forever and ever. Amen (so be it).

And here’s what we learned about combating worry:

1) Get Humble Before God
Humility helps me recognize God’s mighty hand and my need to come under His sovereignty and rule. From this perspective, I see that life is not all about me and my preferences (shocker, I know!)—but rather, it’s about making God’s name known and magnified. When worry has me, I am giving in to the unbelief that God is not bigger than the things troubling me in the moment. John Piper says this in Battling Unbelief:

Jesus says that the root of anxiety is inadequate faith in our Father’s future grace. As unbelief gets the upper hand in our hearts, one of the effects is anxiety. The root cause of anxiety is a failure to trust all that God has promised to be for us in Jesus.

2) Cast Worrisome Thoughts on Him
Worry is sticky; it isn’t easily shaken off. Sort of like the static cling that is innate to those packing peanuts . . . I push them away but something keeps them coming back. Jesus neutralizes the static cling of worry, severing its pull. Casting all my cares on Jesus is the only way to tame them.

3) Be on Guard
I am called to be well balanced (not off kilter), temperate (not unrestrained), sober of mind (not irrational), vigilant (not lazy), and cautious (not reckless). Why? Because when situations tempt me to worry, I can easily let down my guard and become easy prey for the enemy of my soul, who wants to devour my very life.

4) Stand Firm for God
When life gets hairy, my whimpery voice gets the better of me. In such moments of self pity, I have joined sides with the enemy and I stand with him accusing God of being unkind and unfair. I forget to stand firm with the knowledge that God has warned me of the sufferings to come, which He recycles for my good (in time). I must remember that God is about the business of making me holy—not happy . . . although holiness will produce exquisite joy that trumps happiness any day. Holiness-making is no pain-free process; I want to trust God’s work (and heart) even as it stings.

5) Remember Who’s in Charge
God’s hand is mighty. He cares for me, affectionately and watchfully. He is the God of all grace, who imparts all blessing and favor. He has called me to His own eternal glory in Christ Jesus. He Himself will complete me and make me what I ought to be. He will establish me, ground me securely in Him, strengthen me, and settle me (and all my anxious thoughts!). He has all dominion, power, authority, and rule—forever and ever. Amen and so be it! This reminds me of the powerful video made from a message by S. M. Lockeridge that he gave in 1976.

After hearing Lockeridge describe my King, no worry has a chance.

 

Life Lessons from Scaredy Squirrel

Breath for the Bones Book Club: Thoughts on Chapter 3

This summer I participated in my library’s reading program called A.R.K.S.—Adults Reading Kids’ Stuff. One read in particular has stayed with me; it was a picture book called Scaredy Squirrel. (You simply must click over to see Scaredy Squirrel’s sweet little face before going on! Then come on back . . .) Here’s a synopsis of the story:

Scaredy Squirrel was frightened of lots of things: bees, sharks, aliens, and the like. So he stayed in his nut tree to make sure nothing happened. And that’s exactly how his life went: nothing happened. One day he fell out of his tree after being startled by a bee. In the midst of this abnormal day of happenings—in the midst of his falling—he discovered he was actually a flying squirrel. He never knew he was capable of flying, capable of adventure, until he was forced out of his safety zone. After this historic day, he determined to work a bit of adventure into his routine, to discover the life outside his safe nut tree.

What can we learn from Scaredy Squirrel?

• Pursuing safety as the highest goal will rob you of a full life.
• Staying at home to avoid unlikely dangers is not a guarantee dangers won’t find you.
• Hiding in a safety zone prevents you from discovering hidden personal traits.

The lessons are true . . . but the story is better, isn’t it? Won’t you remember Scaredy Squirrel far longer than the lessons I listed?

What is it about story that captures the heart and soul and mind—and memory?

Luci Shaw explains that our creative Creator designed us to grasp and comprehend life through story, through metaphor. In chapter 3, “Meeting the God of Metaphor,” of Shaw’s Breath for the Bones, we are brought back to this mystery of grasping the deeper hidden things of life through pictures and parables and illustrations.

Metaphors remind us there is more than what we can see and comprehend—even as metaphors attempt to explain something mysterious by saying “this is like that. In fact, in metaphor, ‘this’ is ‘that’ ” (Shaw 45).

Metaphor whispers to us that there is more.

Children’s picture books often weave a grand tale around the framework and structure of life lessons. The hope is that children will begin to see beyond the story to the deeper, hidden meaning to learn how to best live life.

As grown-ups we often forget the power of story. We no longer develop elaborate stories to act out. Work has become practical and logical with little story to be found. Remember the stories we acted out as kids? Where there was evil to conquer and good to protect and love that overcomes every obstacle? We’ve become way too proper and sensible in our old age.

I agree with Shaw though—“in the sacramental pattern of life, everything means something, everything may be a pointer to the holy” (53). The power of story remains; we just need to do a better job discovering it. The apostle Paul spoke hauntingly of our inability to see the real story of eternal mystery hidden beyond the veil of this life, reminding us that there is evil lurking who wishes to keep us grown-up and practical so that we forget the power of Story—God’s Story of redemption in Christ: “The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelieving so that they might not see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God” (2 Cor. 4:4).

Maybe being grown-up has become our safety zone, our hideout in a nut tree. Up high, we can observe life unfolding all around us; we can see dangers from a mile away; we can create a monotonous routine to keep everything in check. Grown-ups are good at this. And the enemy tells us this is how it should be.

But I want to be like Scaredy Squirrel. I want to discover the hidden talents I don’t know I possess. I want to see “the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ” and be enthralled by His beauty. This will require a leap from my safety zone as I seek out the hidden treasures locked up in the “sacramental pattern of life” that become “a pointer to the holy.” I need to choose to see, choose to think metaphorically.

Thanks, Scaredy Squirrel. You taught me that it’s better to fly.

_______________

Meet the Club! Read Other Breath for the Bones Chapter 3 Posts
Queenie at Rancho Ruperto

Join our book club discussion each Thursday.