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Space For The Glory Of Nothing

February 22, 2012 in Faith, I'm Learning with 1 Comment

“The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still” (Ex 14.14).

When I think about things in life that feed my soul (aside from spiritual disciplines & time with family and friends), my top 3 in no particular order would be:

  • Reading fiction
  • Writing
  • Silence

(Honorable mentions: coffee, music, a good dark beer, and Friday Night Lights…)

IT’S COMPLICATED

But anyway–I’ve been thinking a lot about that third one, silence. On one hand, I love silence. I’m a night owl and I sit up late at night sometimes and soak up the glory of nothing. It’s so very good for me. (I once told my wife that silence was my favorite sound. She said, “Gee, thanks.” I’m great with words sometimes.)

But, it’s more complicated than that. Because like any good complicated human being, I also hate silence. And I bet you do too.

What I mean is, there is some kind of deep resistance to the very idea of it. I love it, but I still have to make myself do it. I have to come to some kind of mini-burnout or have a knockdown drag-out with myself to actually sit still and be quiet for more than 20 seconds.

So why are we so uncomfortable with silence? And I don’t mean just the absence of sound, but the absence of activity. Just being and not doing. I mean, I can’t even sit at a red light for 5 seconds without feeling the urge to pull out my iPhone. I need help…my therapist wife even says so. But let’s move on from that, shall we?

I bet I could convince both of us that we need more silence in our lives, and you might even nod your head in agreement. But actually doing it? That’s a different story. So what’s underneath our aversion to silence? I’ve got three ideas:

1) Silence is awkward. And, well–let’s be honest. Awkwardness is the cardinal sin of our culture. (Awkward silence, anyone?) Is there a quicker way to feel ostracized from “the crowd” than being awkward? (Unless you’re the really funny, cool kind of awkward, but that’s a different topic.) This awkwardness makes silence extraordinarily uncomfortable. I recently watched a short film where the first 15 seconds was an old woman staring silently at herself in a mirror, and I was like “Agghh! Someone do something about this! Do you not realize how uncomfortable this is?”

2) Silence is unproductive. Busy, busy, busy we are. And busy=important. Who doesn’t want to be important? You know what the problem with sitting still is? You don’t get anything done. Nothing marked off your to do list. What a waste!

3) Silence is exposing. You know what happens when I sit completely still and try to focus on doing nothing? Things come up. Mainly, things I’m trying to avoid. Things I’d rather not think about or deal with. Things I’m putting off. The Holy Spirit starts moving His finger around in my heart. And then I’m like, “You know there was a reason I was avoiding that…”

But despite all these reasons that make silence uncomfortable, I believe it is something we must fight for. And fight for it we must, because everything is working against us. For most of human history there was space carved out for silence: the day would end, the sun would drop, people would go to bed and all would be quiet. But now there is noise everywhere. TV, Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, your phone, the interwebs–these things never have to turn off if you don’t want them to.

But again, I don’t think you will pursue the discipline of silence because you realize you need to. Logic might make you think, but emotion makes you act. Unless you actually want it you’ll never genuinely pursue it. But how do we actually want it?

CUE MEN IN BLACK, OF COURSE

What if I put my Men In Black flashy thing in front of your face and made you forget everything we just talked about. And then I took off my glasses and said, “Hey, I bet you’re tired, aren’t you? If not physically, then soul tired.”

And you would reply, “Uh-huh.”

And then I would say, “Do you feel frazzled all the time? Like life is an unending series of distractions vying for your attention, and you are exhausted from trying to keep up?”

“Uh-huh.”

And then imagine that I proceeded to tell you that God has something for you. A gift–something to restore your soul. To remind you that you need a break and that you’re not self-sufficient. That things can get done tomorrow. That He will use this gift to speak to you, even if it is sometimes uncomfortable. That through it He will teach you that you are more than what you accomplish…”

Would your mouth be salivating yet?

DON’T BE A TRIFLER

So I say we try to reframe silence. That we see it as the sobering and centering treasure God intends it to be.

The discipline of nothing. Such a beautiful idea.

And over time, I hope that we learn to press into the awkwardness, to embrace the glorious lack of productivity, and realize that if things keep coming up it’s because they actually need to be dealt with. And that doing so is actually a good thing.

What a novel idea–that what God wants for us is actually for our good.

I love what John Wesley said:

“Do justice to your own soul; give it time and means to grow…else you will be a trifler all your days.”

And well, who wants to be a trifler?

Let’s make some space for the glory of nothing in our lives. Deal?

This post was inspired by the Luminous Project, a conference for creatives and communicators involved in faith-based work. For more about it, check out the Luminous website. If you’re interested in attending the event, use the promo code “luminousLOVE” (case sensitive) to get 30% off. Sign up here.

My Personal Standard Of Beauty

February 14, 2012 in Family, I'm Learning, Marriage with 7 Comments

Well. It’s Valentine’s Day. I figured this would be as good a chance as any to share something I’ve been thinking about lately…one of my favorite things about the way God has designed marriage.

 

Impossible Because It’s Fake

It all started when I watched a short Youtube video about how media and advertising have been affecting our culture’s general standard of beauty (the impossibly flawless list of ideals that our society deems as most important to being judged “beautiful”). It sharply reveals (with specific examples) that in fact, many of the images of beautiful people we see on television and magazine racks are not only the work of professional make-up artists, but also significantly doctored by Photoshop. One model even said something to the effect of “I wish I looked like me.”

So all of these airbrushed, fake images that our culture props up as the standard you have to live up to breed nothing but despair, even for the very people whose actual image is used. Because even they can’t live up to it. Much less those of us who are not professional models.

But this is not God’s design for beauty. He did not intend for beauty to be judged by ridiculous, impossible outward standards and for us to feel an insatiable lacking that will never be filled.

 

We’re It For Each Other

To help combat this, he created this thing called marriage. This thing where two people commit to each other til death do them part.

And just like the picture we get from Adam & Eve in the garden, the plan is that we’re it for each other. My wife is the only gal in the world for me and I’m the only man in the world for her–just like we were in a garden together without another human yet on the planet. Once we tied the knot on October 20th 2007, we literally became each other’s standard of beauty.

 

Sucks For You Tim Riggins…

Sure, there are other fish in the sea, but there is a massive problem with every one of them–none of them are Kristi Gilstrap Clements. Sure, I sometimes think other women are attractive. But you know what their glaring and insurmountable problem is? They don’t look like my wife! They are not my wife. And therefore they are forever inferior to her. Sucks to suck.

I have a personal standard of beauty, and it looks exactly like this:

 

(Sidenote: why did she pick me? No clue.)

So we can watch Friday Night Lights, and Kristi can say that Tim Riggins is a hunky stud-muffin (I mean, he is, right? Who wouldn’t say that?). But you know what Tim Riggins’ problem is? He doesn’t look like me. Even with his six-pack abs, his flowing hair, his irresistible dumb-Southern-boy accent and the way he says “cawwledge” (read: college). He may be taller than me, more muscular than me, and more charming than me. It doesn’t matter. You know why?

Because he’s not me–the man that Kristi happens to be married to.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it Tim Riggins…

 

The Fantastic Implication

So I don’t have to mope around all insecure because I don’t look like Tim Riggins. And Kristi doesn’t have to do the same because she doesn’t look like whoever she might be tempted to compare herself to. Isn’t that fantastic? I can be me and she can be her and we can both be thrilled with that.

And the crazy thing about this whole setup is that it actually works. I mean it–it’s not just some unattainable religious ideal. The way God has designed marriage to work is constant companionship and presence. Daily reminders of each other–falling asleep and waking up, leaving for work and coming home, going out on the town and staying in your pajamas. Fallen human nature may make you think that such an environment would cause you to grow tired of your partner and want new or different, but I find that incredibly, the opposite is actually true–Kristi actually grows more and more beautiful over the years.

I’m not kidding. I’ve always been enamored with her, but there are days now when I’ll walk up on her getting ready and be genuinely stunned by her–struck at how gorgeous she is. She more and more so becomes my literal standard of beauty and others pale in comparison in a way that is just hopeless.

Because they don’t look anything like her. And they never will.

And that makes me very happy. I’ve got my own one-of-a-kind, personal beauty queen. And if you’re married, you do too.

That is a really, really cool thing. God must be a genius or something.

 

Happy Valentine’s Day to my personal beauty queen. I delight in you babe. 

The Slow Work Of God

February 10, 2012 in Faith, I'm Learning, Jesus with 4 Comments

In my conversations with people around Recovery, one of the most prevalent themes is frustration over the pace of their progress. “Growth doesn’t happen overnight” has become one of the mantras that we repeat often. We want to change, to grow, and we want it now. But most of the time, growth doesn’t ride on the snaps of fingers.

The Importance Of Zooming Out

When I’m talking to people about this, I always tell them to zoom out. Don’t obsess over how frustrated you are about your recent failings and how little you seem to have grown in the past few weeks. Instead, zoom out and think about how far you’ve come in the past year or two. Most always, when they hear that their perspective is broadened and they admit that they are a completely different person now than they were back then.

Metaphors Galore

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the New Testament uses all sorts of farming metaphors to describe spiritual life and growth. We as modern Americans think fruit just magically appears on grocery store shelves, so we don’t really get it. But if you’ve ever had a garden, you know. There is a lot of waiting. You plow and plant, then you wait. You water, and you wait. You pluck up weeds, and you wait.

And then one day when you’re not even expecting it, you see a little green bulb sprout. Before long, that little flower turns into a little vegetable. Then you watch it grow day by day and eventually it’s ready to pick.

We should probably do more farming. It would be a good reminder that growth takes time. That we can and should do what we can–plow, water, and weed–but the real deep work of the heart is God’s work. And just like a garden, it may be slower than we want sometimes, but in the end it’s all worth it because there is even more growth in the process. He does good work in His good timing.

This poem below is very encouraging to me and I hope it will be the same for you.

May we all “accept the anxiety of feeling…in suspense and incomplete” and “above all, trust in the slow work of God.”

The Prayer Of The Jesuit Priest Teillard de Chardin.

“Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way
to something unknown,
something new.
Yet it is the law of all progress that is made
by passing through some stages of instability
and that may take a very long time.
And so I think it is with you.
Your ideas mature gradually. Let them grow.
Let them shape themselves without undue haste.
Do not try to force them on
as though you could be today what time
– that is to say, grace –
and circumstances
acting on your own good will
will make you tomorrow.
Only God could say what this new Spirit
gradually forming in you will be.
Give our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.
Above all, trust in the slow work of God,
our loving vine-dresser.
Amen.”

God Gave Me A Black Eye

February 2, 2012 in Faith, I'm Learning, Jesus, The Gospel with 5 Comments

Friday I got a nasty black eye.

The wind was blowing hard, and when it does so at our house it often catches our storm door on the front porch, blows it open like a tornado, and knocks this bench off of the porch.

It happened on Friday and the bench broke after falling off the porch. So I decided to go outside and fix it. On the way out, I heard Kristi say, “Brandon, wait…” I knew she was going to tell me not to fix it. But I’m a man, you know, and I wanted to fix it.

So what did I do?

I pretended that I didn’t hear her and kept walking outside. I went around the porch, picked up the bench, and started to put the screw back in.

Right at this time, Kristi naturally came outside to tell me not to fix the bench because she was going to throw the piece of junk away.

But…as soon as she opened the storm door, guess what the wind did?

Yep.

It caught the door. And I mean it caught it. I have no idea how non-hurricane winds can make that thing move that fast.

I looked up right in time to hear the whoosh of the door and see it slam into the bench.

But not in time to move before the bench slammed into my eye and knocked me on my butt.

Oh, it hurt.

And after Kristi made sure I was okay, she laughed. I mean, you kind of had to. I’ve been telling people that it was kind of like a scene from Final Destination, except thankfully I didn’t die.

It was funny, I have to admit it.

But I’ve been thinking about how I’ve changed over the years and how God has grown me. I swear, in high school I would have been absolutely convinced that God gave me a black eye. It was what I deserved for ignoring my wife. It was punishment.

True story: in my senior year of high school, we lost a playoff football game that we were supposed to win. And I was convinced that we lost because I had done something wrong the week before.

I mean convinced. For years.

But I don’t think that way anymore.

And I think that is grace.

Because the more I have grown to know God, the more I see Him as a loving father. I realize that He does discipline His children like Hebrews 12 says, but in a loving way and not in an “I’m out to get you” kind of way.

Like a conversation I had with someone recently, where they said that they were always afraid to respond to God because they thought He just wanted to punish them. That He was waiting with a hammer and an anvil. And I got to remind them that instead He was on a cross, taking the hammer Himself so we wouldn’t have to.

I don’t think He was standing there on Friday with lightning bolts in His hand saying, “See what you get when you ignore your wife punk!”

No.

I think He was slapping His knee, sharing a very good-natured laugh with me and Kristi about the ridiculousness of it all.

The Danger Of Testing God

January 27, 2012 in C.S. Lewis, Faith, I'm Learning with 4 Comments

This may sound trivial or “duh” to you, but one of the things that I’ve been re-learning lately, much in part to the book A Praying Life by Paul Miller, is that God really is there on the other end of the line. He is active, engaged, listening…and this is the often forgotten part: responding. It reminds me of what C.S. Lewis says in Miracles:

“An ‘impersonal God’–well and good. A subjective God of beauty, truth and goodness, inside our own heads–better still. A formless life-force surging through us, a vast power which we can tap–best of all. But God Himself, alive, pulling at the other end of the cord, perhaps approaching at an infinite speed, the hunter, king, husband–that is quite another matter. There comes a moment when the children who have been playing at burglars hush suddenly: was that a real footstep in the hall?…Supposing we really found Him? We never meant it to come to that! Worse still, supposing He had found us?”

Don’t you just love that image? Pulling at the other end…approaching at an infinite speed.

It seems very like God to remind us of this. Especially when we get lost in our rituals and habits, and you lose sight of the fact that there’s a real person on the other end of this relationship, and then He somehow taps on your shoulder or busts open your little bubble and you get that same jolt that you get during scary movies.

Maybe I’m just weird, but I hope some of you know what I’m talking about.

It is a crazy wonderful thing that God pursues. That He taps and whistles and pokes and yells, through a thousand different things to get our attention. Because we drift, forget, become numb and sleepy.

But the difficult thing about God being a real person happens to be the fact that, well, He’s a real person. Not a construct or a fetch-boy, but a real, wise and self-sufficient being. He can’t be pigeon-holed or bossed around. He can say “No” and not do things exactly like we want Him to. Just like other people.

If He was a robot, you could make Him yank the other end of the rope when you wanted Him to. (But you’ll be glad to hear that He’s not a robot.)

If you don’t believe me, do an experiment. Go up to a random stranger and instruct them to take off your smelly shoes and give you a ten-minute foot massage. See if they comply.

You’re back already? That didn’t take long…

So…that fact makes me really wary when I hear people talk about testing God. Specifically when people get really stressed, frustrated, or confused and they’re like “Okay, GOD–if you’re really out there then I need you to do _______ to prove to me that you’re really there.” It’s essentially drawing a box, giving God a time-frame, and then standing there to watch the box.

And I suppose that sometimes God goes along with it. I’ve heard stories.

But I’ve also heard stories of bitter and cynical people who believe God bailed on them because He didn’t show up in their box in their timeframe. Like a story I heard recently about a guy who was laid off from a ministry, and after praying and searching for a job for several years, he didn’t find one that he wanted. So he bailed on God and doesn’t want to talk about Him at all now, with anyone.

And that makes me cringe. Because if I’ve learned anything about God, it’s that He generally doesn’t fit into boxes.

So, please remember that the next time you are standing there, staring back and forth between your watch and a box in the sand, growing more bitter and jaded by the minute.

You just never know.

He may be doing jumping jacks behind you.

 

Waiting And Winning

January 23, 2012 in Church, Faith, I'm Learning, Midtown with 4 Comments

Our church (Midtown Fellowship) has been meeting for five years. We have 450-ish members, 60-something small groups, and around 800 people coming.

And we have never (except for a VERY brief stint) had services on Sunday mornings.

Can you believe that? (Just in case you don’t know, that is extremely rare.)

We’ve begged and pleaded with God to give us a space to meet on Sunday mornings. Because that’s when most people want to attend church services. Especially older people and families with children.

But for five years He said “Wait.” He certainly still blessed us in unimaginable ways. But with that seemingly very important thing, He said to wait.

So we did. And He still blessed us along the way.

And then yesterday, we finally had our first Sunday morning service (in addition to 4 other Sunday night services).

I’ll admit, none of us thought it would take five years to get that prayer answered.

But you know what we learned through it?

That God and His timing are worth waiting on.

That He’s good in the meantime.

That you don’t have to meet on Sunday mornings to be the church.

That sometimes you appreciate things more when you have to wait on them.

That God provides for us. Even with a bunch of young people and a ridiculously shoestring budget. He provides.

So. I bet there is probably something in your life that you are waiting for. Something you are praying and yearning for.

Maybe it’s a new job. One that you don’t hate.

Maybe it’s an acceptance letter from your dream school or a contract with a publisher.

Maybe it’s a husband or a wife.

Maybe it’s having a child.

Maybe it’s ______ , one of a thousand different things.

I have good news for you.

It’s not that if you just wait long enough, you’ll definitely get _______. Sorry. I could tell you that, but it’d be a lie. I don’t know if God will definitely give you what you’re waiting for.

The good news is that, in short, He is good and you get Him. A Father who gives good gifts to His children. And He grows and changes you along the way.

That’s actually better news than “You’ll definitely get _______.” Because He knows what’s best for you. You can trust Him. And He very well may give you _______ eventually.

But it’s okay if He doesn’t, because ______ is not a cure-all and it’s not the point and you still get Him. He is the real treasure and prize, so anything else is just icing on the cake.

He would have been good if we were a “Sunday night church” forever.

And He’ll be good if whatever you’re waiting for takes a really long time, or even never comes.

Because you’ll sit there without _______ and come to realize that you’re okay without it though you once thought you’d die if you didn’t get it. You’ll see that you have depth and relationship with your Father and you’ll be resolved that the immovable peace that He brings is better than a thousand _______’s.

So. The good news is:

If you have Him, you win either way.

Mandy Moore Led Matt Chandler To Jesus?

January 17, 2012 in Faith, I'm Learning, Jesus, Stories with 7 Comments

I don’t know of any person alive who’s faith has been more of an inspiration to me than that of Matt Chandler (pastor at The Village Church in TX). I don’t even listen to his podcast religiously like many people I know, but God has used his preaching to grow and influence me in profound ways, and for that I am unceasingly thankful. Seeing his love for Jesus, his dogged proclamation of the gospel and the fact that God is the great reward and prize of the Christian faith, and especially his faithfulness and maturity while battling a life-endangering brain tumor has challenged me to no end.

So it’s crazy to think about the way he actually met Jesus.

Have you ever seen the movie Saved, with Mandy Moore? If you have, then you know exactly what I’m talking about. She plays the role of a very cheesy, over the top, insincerely over-zealous Christian who is just honestly sad to watch. The funny thing is, her character reminds me a tad bit of myself in high school. (Don’t worry, I definitely wasn’t as crazy or weird. And I was much more sincere and actually loved people. And I had friends:)

But I was very zealous like her. I would stop anyone and talk to them about Jesus. I once led a stranger in the sinner’s prayer in the parking lot of a gas station. If I felt any kind of inclination at all to talk to a particular person, I would turn my car around, go out of my way, do anything. It didn’t matter. I’d rather interrupt my whole day than bear that guilty feeling of “I should have talked to them but I didn’t.”

Those of you who know me know that I am different now. I would lean more on the side of relational evangelism now–that you should ideally get to know people, serve them, and invest in relationship instead of just whopping them over the head with “Do you know Jesus?” And I kind of shake my head thinking about some of the things I used to do, like the guy in the parking lot. I didn’t even get his phone number! What was I thinking? I guess I was just like, “Alright, see you in heaven!” Yikes.

But when I hear Matt Chandler tell the story of how he came to faith, it makes me feel better. He grew up in a non-Christian home, then moved from San Fransisco to Texas in high school. And one day while getting dressed for football practice, the guy beside him literally says, “Hey, my name is Jeff, I need to tell you about Jesus…do you want to do that now or later?”

What? Mandy Moore led Matt Chandler to Jesus?

I’m sure Jeff was more sincere, and that he did build relationship over time. But still. That’s one of those things where I would step in to someone I knew and be like, “You probably shouldn’t do that…”

But God used that guy’s boldness, and now Matt is probably one of the greatest preachers of our time.

That just goes to show that it’s God who is doing the real work, through or sometimes in spite of our meek and wayward attempts.

And that is very freeing.

So, what about the guy from the parking lot? Maybe I just confused him–made him think that all he had to do was say a magic string of words to punch his ticket to heaven. I really hope not, but maybe that’s what happened. Or…maybe he really met Jesus that night. He might even be the next Matt Chandler for all we know.

Either way, it’s great to know that:

a) God loves that guy,

b) He has certainly pursued him in many other ways than me, and

c) He doesn’t need me to reach him. 

That’s very good news.

Because if Mandy Moore can be used to lead Matt Chandler to Jesus, what do we have to worry about?

(If you aren’t familiar with Matt, or even if you are and haven’t seen this, check out the video below titled “Jesus Wants The Rose.” It’s one of my favorites.)

 

The Power Of An Image

October 28, 2011 in I'm Learning, Writing with 3 Comments

I saw this picture last night on Facebook, with the description below:


The night before the burial of her husband 2nd Lt. James Cathey of the United States Marine Corps, killed in Iraq, Katherine Cathey refused to leave the casket, asking to sleep next to his body for the last time. The Marines made a bed for her, tucking in the sheets below the flag. Before she fell asleep, she opened her laptop computer and played songs that reminded her of “Cat”, and one of the Marines asked if she wanted them to continue standing watch as she slept.
“I think it would be kind of nice if you kept doing it” she said.
“I think that’s what he would have wanted.”

I have to be honest, I shed a tear or two. Something about it just hits you, you know?

Then I thought about how I am primarily a writer/reader. What I mean by that is I think, process, and learn best through written words.

But man, how valuable can images be? I’m sure a good writer could describe the weight of this scene well. But there’s something about the picture that just punches you in the throat.

I saw an article recently about Eugene Peterson. Before going into the ministry, a friend of his who hated the church because of bad experiences told Eugene that if he became a pastor it would be the end of him. So what did the friend do? He painted a portrait of Eugene with a black robe on, Bible in front of him–as a gaunt and very sick man. He wanted him to see what he thought would happen to him if he insisted on being a pastor.

Don’t you think that image haunted him? Here’s what he had to say:

“I still pull it out occasionally and look at those vacant eyes, flat and empty. The face gaunt and unhealthy. Willi’s artistic imagination created a portrait that was far more vivid than any verbal warning. The artist has the eyes to connect the visible and the invisible..”

I still love my words, but both of these things have me thinking about the power of an image. And they have made me more thankful for my fellow artists–painters, photographers, designers, videographers, and the like. Keep it up, friends. You never know when a picture or painting or video will stick with someone for the rest of their life.

john wesley, finishing well, and old men

April 6, 2011 in I'm Learning with 2 Comments

I just finished reading John Wesley’s Journal for class, and I must say it was fantastic. Some of it was tedious, obviously, because it was a journal. But seeing the progression of his life, his heart for the gospel and how God used him was incredible. What got me the most, though, was the account of his dying days by an eyewitness at the end.

While reading it, I was reminded of the unfortunate fact that I don’t really know many old men. I would probably give a big toe to know some really godly old men and just be able to sit around and listen to them talk and tell stories. But God did let me do that through reading the end of Wesley’s journal, and it was remarkable to hear him describe his decaying body while it seemed that his passion for the Lord grew even stronger.

In the eyewitness account of his death, there is a story from the day before he died that almost brought me to tears. His friends and family are gathered around his deathbed and he keeps trying to work up the strength to speak, because he has something he wants to tell them. He struggles mightily to do so, and finally he cried out:

“The best of all is, God is with us;” and then, as if to assert the faithfulness of our promise-keeping Jehovah and comfort the hearts of his weeping friends, lifting up his dying arm in token of victory and raising his feeble voice with a holy triumph not to be expressed, again repeated the heart-reviving words, “The best of all is, God is with us!”

Oh for the grace to finish well.

put yourself there

October 1, 2010 in I'm Learning with 0 Comments

You know what I love to do?

A lot of things, but I won’t bore you with all of them at the moment.

But the one thing tonight is that I love to write.

It could be a passion. It could be a calling. It could be just something that keeps me sane. Who knows. But I do know one thing. I think God knits us all together in special and awe-inspiring ways, and He gives to each of us avenues of self-expression. Ways to process what is going on in our lives and our minds. To make sense of a mess, to communicate the incommunicable. Language is a tricky and burdensome thing, to be sure, because there is a weight, an emotion to life that just can’t ride out on the backs of words, whether spoken or written.

But it does help. Of that I’m sure. Even though I can’t always get everything out, I can feel the relief of just putting myself on paper.

I think that’s the value and God-ordained purpose for art. To express the inexpressible and keep us all out of the loony bin of self-imprisonment.

God’s given you a gift. A gift that’s ultimately for Him, but also for yourself and for the world.

Maybe it’s writing, like me. Put yourself on paper then.

Maybe it’s music. Put yourself in a song or melody.

Maybe it’s drawing or painting. Put yourself there.

Maybe it’s cooking. Put yourself there.

Maybe it’s sewing or photography or dancing.

Maybe it’s the most random thing that no one would ever think of. But it’s you, and you feel it. Unmistakably.

Put yourself there.

Serve our relentless God through your gift, and know Him better through the joy of creative interaction.

Give yourself that gift of expression that calms your soul and makes you feel the breath of God on your neck.

And give all of you to others–all of the unknowable and inexpressible parts that can only be expressed through a song or a story or a painting or a poem or a meal or a letter or a picture or a dance or a whatever.

Put all of you in it, and don’t be mistaken. The expression, no matter how profound or unsightly or mediocre, is not the gift.

You are. And there is nothing better to give.

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