In the image of the creator

In the image of the creator...

  In Genesis we are introduced to God as the creator. The scripture tells how the world and all living things came into existence.  As we were created in the image of God, some of that creativity was imparted to us.  As an artist and writer- a creative individual, I always feel connected to my Heavenly Father through using my talents. When I am sketching, painting a mural, creating a gift for another or expressing the deepest

expressions of my heart, I feel a connection to God. I find that in His love and goodness, he often meets me in those moments. He speaks to me through my creations. Even when I am unaware and absently doodling, He speaks to me and my hand becomes and instrument to convey His individual message to me. 

  Recently I attended a conference where the theme was "make". As a creator, I instantly connected with this idea of connecting to God with this shared identity and characteristic. To make and create is a precious gift given to each of us. We as people like to limit and define creation to art, music, dance and literature. But each of us can create something- food, photographs, journals, disciples, environments, a laugh, a feeling, a business, a ministry, a home, a family, a friend. Creativity should be redefined as an activity where we seek to create something that expresses our new identity as redeemed, as sons and daughters of God. Creativity should be how we connect with God through the things we make in order to share the love which we have been so graciously given. Our acts of creation should be to bring glory to the original creator, to bring Him pleasure. 

   I have been reading Bob Goff's, Love Does. In his introduction, Bob asks what things I want to do or dream of doing that I haven't done. And my answer was simply creating. I often dream and desire to create things just for the sake of creating. I often plan on writing and making and expressing and I tell myself that there is too much work to be done. I extinguish the creative passion I feel by worrying about how others will receive my creation, whether they will find it worthy. I have been convicted that I am forsaking one of the most precious avenues to intimacy with God that I have.

  I am declaring this week a week in celebration of creation. The beginning to a renewed purpose in the act of identifying with my creator by expressing this inherited trait.  The art and writing I create this week will be not for the joy of and approval of others but solely to connect with and please Him. I want my creations to truly express the love, joy, rest, freedom and hope I have found in Jesus Christ. I encourage you to join me and find your way to connect with the creator.

Confessions of Where I Live

Confessions of Where I Live

  This is a picture of my home. I have lived here for most of my life and I love it. I never get tired of seeing the beauty that I get to live amongst. The creation around me always helps to connect me with the Creator. God has spoken to me so much here and in other places while I am absorbing my surroundings. No matter my location, he has always been able to draw me to himself by the colors and sensations of my environment. 

  For the past two years I feel like God has been really teaching me and showing me so much about His character, who I am and how much I need Him. I continue to disciple others and teach these things but I know He has called me to write. However, in the past two years I have not written much.  I love journals and journaling but I have resisted that too.  Sometimes my hesitancy is because  at that moment my situation is overwhelming and my words seem inadequate to express what is happening inside of me. Sometimes the effort of unpacking all of the turmoil, confusion and pain inside seems to exhaust me before I even start.  It seems easier to numb myself and push it down with the shallow promise that I will tend to that later.  And honestly I fear my own motives. This fear is the biggest reason for my silence.

  I care too much what people think about me. I care too much about my performance, appearance and just generally how I am perceived. I know this about myself and hate it. I am painfully aware of it and catch my thoughts and actions reflecting this more than I want to admit.  It is a struggle and it grieves me. I feel that there is a struggle inside at every turn, with very activity I undertake.  Am I doing this, saying this, writing this in order to draw attention to myself? Am I seeking my own glory, my own validation in this moment? And while my self monitoring is necessary and good, it stops me and holds me back.  I had stopped showing outward worship and stopped writing all because I couldn't guarantee that there wasn't some part of myself with the wrong motives. I couldn't say for certain that I wouldn't check for comments or want to be seen as holy or Godly.  I couldn't squash that part of me that desperately needed validation and affirmation. But in talking with my husband, he pointed out that this was wrong, that I was not trusting that God could use my words, my obedience despite my imperfect motives. And yes, if my major motivation is to seek my own glory then I shouldn't continue. However, there is always going to be a sinful part of me that wants to try and steal what is God's and His alone.  Dale showed me a quote from N.T. Wright later that evening that says we have to do what we know to be good because He is good and our faith needs to be in Him to bring about what needs to happen. Basically, I need to trust in His sovereignty and His promise to work out what needs to happen regardless of my imperfections.  If I withhold his teachings to me, my experience with His love, goodness and mercy because I can't guarantee my own purity then I am wrong. I am only being selfish and showing my lack of faith in Him. I am in essence saying that I don't believe He can do what He says He can. I am saying that "small me" can thwart all powerful God. Sometimes my arrogance and own sense of self importance astounds me. 

  God has been teaching me these past two years about what faith really looks like, why I am so bad at having faith and about the sins that enslave me.  He is fighting for me, my freedom and my life as He intends me to live it. I look forward to sharing more about what I have learned about the beautiful character of God in future writings. My prayer is that I am true to Him and write with an abandon that does not take into consideration how it will make me appear. I pray that I am able to bring him glory instead trying to steal it for myself.

Orchids Are Easy

    I am horrible with plants. I do not have a green thumb. It is kind of disappointing because I come from a long line of farmers and gardeners. I live in my grandparents’ old house. It is surrounded by the remains of their years of faithful gardening. I can remember this home being surrounded by beds of beautiful roses. I can remember the house being surrounded by lilies, daisies, and hibiscus. Gladiolas and hydrangeas were plentiful. My grandfather grew almost every kind of vegetable and many fruits as well. Field after field held rows and patches of beans, potatoes, corn, peanuts and so much more.  My father is a wonderful gardener. Every year around May I begin to dream about the squash and tomatoes that will be arriving from his garden. Even my mom has flowers all around their house. I seem to only be able to grow a messy house.  I enjoy the thought of helping something to grow and produce flowers or food.   I have made many attempts and I just have never been successful. I could recount my many attempts at herbs, flowers and even a garden once but everyone ends in failure.

   On my birthday last year, a sweet friend brought me a beautiful present, an orchid.  It was so perfect with its magenta blossoms and arching layers of green leaves.  I had always wanted an orchid but they are so exotic and I just assumed that their care would be tremendously complicated.  So as my friend hands me her generous gift I am just mentally apologizing to the poor plant. Here someone had grown it into a tall and beautiful flower and it now was being given to the worst caretaker.  I said thank you and hoped my apprehension didn’t show on my face.

  I was determined though to keep this flower alive. The card that came along with it said “Orchids are Easy” and listed three simple steps to take care of my orchid. I was very skeptical about the ease of maintaining such a fragile looking plant. However, I managed to keep my plant alive for several months. It survived the cat knocking it into the sink and other such perils of living in my home.  I am sure it was not always watered in a timely manner, but I really worked at tending my plant.

  We had to go away for a week. I neglected to ask my mom to water the plant. I just assumed she would when she came to care for the cat.  I had confidence that she has plant growing skills and that its care would be instinctual to her. When I returned home, all of the flowers were withering and slowly dropping off of the stem.  I tried to water it. The leaves were still green but there were now flowers, just a woody stem.  I am ashamed to say that I was kind of devastated that I had killed another plant. (I think at this point that maybe I had attached a little bit of my validation to the plant’s survival.)  I didn’t know what to do to help my orchid.  But I kept caring for it. I figured the green leaves had to mean something was still alive there. 

  Months have passed and I have started to notice new leaves coming out and new runners sprouting and growing.  I am beside myself. And to my amazement, a new stem has sprouted off of the old one. Buds are appearing and new flowers are on the way.  I showed it to my husband it utter shock and excitement. Even in places where it looked like the plant had died, new life seems to be emerging. Beautiful green runners and a purple stem are growing so quickly now.

  I was having a horrible few days this week.  It seems like a life pattern for me. I get overwhelmed physically, spiritually and emotionally.  It causes a lethargy and depression to come over me.  I get irritable and withdrawn. And I have a hard time getting better.  I was in the middle of one of these times.  I had been trying hard to work my way out of it today by forcing myself to get on with things and tend to stuff I had neglected around the house.  I caught a glimpse of my orchid as I was washing up the dishes. And anew I was struck by its amazing growth. It occurred to me that I am like the orchid. I am dead in places and it hurts and it’s ugly.  I can see where it would be easy for anyone to look at me and feel disappointed and want to give up.  Yet God doesn’t give up. He didn’t give up on the orchid and He didn't give up on me either. The power to defeat the hopelessness that is overtaking me already lives within me.  Just as the orchid still had the spark of life when it looked dead, Christ does the same for me and continues to do that for me over and over again. Even when on the outside I seem lost, miserable and unsalvageable, inside of me resides the power to resurrect the dead and bring new life. 

   Every day I wake up to that power, that love and I forget. I lose sight of what I have in Him. I am so thankful God places reminders for me. I am so glad He does not give up in frustration but instead loves me so much that He fights for me, tends to me. He is good at gardening. He is faithful to care for me. One day I will be adorned with beautiful flowers, even more magnificent than the orchid’s.  But for now its blossoms will serve as a reminder of the hope I have in the gospel and it’s restoring, regenerative and ultimately redeeming power in my life.