I’ve long believed that art is a fantastic way to express worship I just didn’t know how I could participate. I suck at painting and drawing. I want to be able to show my emotions, experiences, prayers and desires in living color. I have amazing landscapes and pictures in my mind. However, getting them out onto a paper is impossible. I can barely draw stick figures. I am in perpetual awe of people who can express themselves through art.
Over the past few years my photography has become a way for me to connect God. When I’m out taking photos I feel like I have a different perspective and one of my favorite subjects is nature. My favorite lens is the macro. I love getting down to the nitty gritty examining everything up close. I suppose that reveals a lot about my nature as well. I am an analytical, nitty gritty kind of person.
Yet there is something about the ability to create your art with your own hands, through your imagination, creating something from nothing. I believe that just as God is a creator, so are we. He gave us that gift so we can connect with him. I love color and to color. I get excited with a new box of crayons. A few years ago I met a friend through my blog that introduced me to a new form of art, mixed media. She is amazing. Her art includes drawing, painting, photos, cards and so many other pieces that she brilliantly pulls together to create something so beautiful and unique. I am in perpetual awe of what she can do.
One time I even won a contest on her blog and received a pack of materials to use to create my own works of “art.” I sat and looked at the pieces and had no idea what to do. It was anything but spiritual a better metaphor would be constipation. I just couldn’t express anything. So all of the beautiful pieces remain just that, pieces in a box, mocking me. I have a longing in my soul to be creative and to connect with God in that way. I think it could be powerful and liberating, but why can’t I do it?
So I’m excited about spiritual doodling. Doodling I can do. I have been a life-long doodler. It’s how I concentrate. In meetings at work people knew I was paying attention if I was drawing squiggles on my paper. It was how I stayed present and focused. If I didn’t I was daydreaming. Through college the margins of all my notes are full of doodles of trees, flowers, squiggles, and initials. Maybe that’s why I love gel pens, they glide so effortlessly across the page as I color in my streams of consciousness.
There is no pressure in a doodle. No one is going to see it but me. No one is going to judge it. I don’t have to be perfect. What I create doesn’t have to be perfect. Aaah. Perfectionism. My former line of work, marketing, is creative yet what you produce has to sell a product. The rational side of my brain argues that the marketing work isn’t personal, it’s work. But the work is my creation. The copy, art direction, and ideas are mine. They are an expression of me, how I think, how I see the world. When they are rejected I feel rejected. I don’t have a thick skin. It often feels too risky to me to be 100% open.
Let the “art” be a free-flowing prayer that no one ever has to see (hidden between you and God). – Miller
I like it! I can do that! I went and retrieved my crayons and colors pencils from storage along with an empty journal. I’m ready. I think. Luckily Miller includes some opening exercises to stimulate expression.
ACTIVITY 1: Take a few moments to draw a picture of your spiritual journey. Perhaps you may want to use a poster board for this. Consider the following questions: What color is my faith journey? Has the path been straight, upward moving, or circuitous? Where am I on the path? Where is God, my family, my friends? What does the environment of my faith path look like?
ACTIVITY 2: Consider negative components of your life (rejection, disregard, disconnection, death to dreams). Draw an image of the way God could turn the negativity into something good (rejection to acceptance, disconnect to connection, loss to growth). As you create, consider: What does it look like for God to work all things for good in my life? What shape, what colors, what space is needed for God’s transformative redeeming work?
These are the two I’m going to start with. We’ll see what happens. We’ll see if I can stick with it. Generally I get stuck and give up. Will this work help me to connect with God or just be another exercise in futility and frustration?
Miller also offers a word of caution that might help: As we explore, remember that the value is in connecting with the Creator, not in the creative experience alone. It’s not about me and what I can produce, it’s about the connection that is created. This isn’t a work that is validated only in as much as it serves as a vehicle for communication between me and God. The doodling makes me brain slow down so I can stay in the moment and stay connected to what he is showing or telling me. It will be divine doodling.
This last week I have been trying to be more diligent about “getting quiet” before the Lord. That sounds lofty and spiritual but basically it means I have been just trying to shut up and listen.
I realized that when “praying” I am the annoying child that just won’t shut up. I keep talking and talking and talking. Amazing how I never run out of things to say, or maybe just whine and complain about. I am not the most gracious or grateful of children sometimes.
I sit and my mind whirls. How do you hear God? Now that’s a big question. A few years ago I read Dallas Willard’s take on the idea, in his book aptly named, Hearing God. While contending that there are no formulas Willard believes that we can have a conversational relationship with God.
Willard reminds us that we have to start with very basic belief – that God still speaks today and he speaks to us individually. Once we reaffirm that belief we can begin the journey of “hearing” as we live a life in God’s will to notice the still small voice. In I Kings 19:11-13 Elijah was in desperate need to hear from God. He was in a cave hiding from Jezebel, who wanted him dead.
” The LORD said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 13 When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”
There is lots to be learned in that passage but what stands out first is that God wasn’t found in the storm, earthquake or fire, but instead in the gentle whisper. You can’t hear until you get still.
I suck at being still. I want God to be loud, obnoxious and obvious. I’d like God to come in an email, text, a tweet or write me something on my facebook wall. But nope, he’s old-fashioned he wants our presence, the face-to-face conversation. Why is that so hard?
Ruth Haley Barton in her book, Invitation to Solitude and Silence, says that you have to order your life for God’s voice. We have to make room, allow for the still, small voice to break into our clutter and busyness. Her spiritual director told her she was like a jar of river water all stirred up and she needed to stop and let the sediment settle.
I love that imagery. I got some sediment and it is a swirlin’
What’s your sediment? Mine is figuring out what’s next in my life, finding a job, paying my bills while I don’t have job, managing family drama, remembering who I am, holding onto my faith, remembering who God is, staying sane, not being a victim and finding joy.
She suggests setting aside time everyday, even if its just 10 minutes to sit and be still before God.
It’s an invitation to be still and sith the the longings of our heart, soul and mind. We have to let go of control, busyness, distractions and fear. We have to let ourself succomb to the desperation.
Oh now that is interesting. I hate the anxiety that builds in my soul when I don’t have a plan or the answers. I will do anything to avoid it. Trying to self-soothe in the middle of these situations get me in trouble. Barton says that we need to stay with the feelings of desperation and let it do its good work. “Desperation causes us to be open to radical solutions, willing to take all manner of risk in order to find what we’re looking for.”
I don’t know about you but my sediment needs some seriously radical solutions. I have no idea. I have no earthly way to wade my way through. Even thinking about it stirs the pot.
The rest of Barton’s book is about learning how to be still before God. I recommend it. The basic idea is to find a sacred space where you can sit and wait for God to speak. It’s not about an activity or a purpose beyond a conversation with God. We have to make ourselves available. We want God available to us but are we available to him?
[We need to]Run into God’s arms and give [ourself] to his embrace but we are carrying too much baggage and don’t know where to put it, sometimes we just need to write it all down and put it into an envelope marked TRUST, which is an act of giving it to God.
It’s about trust. How much do I really trust God? Another topic for another post.
I have tried this week to spend time focusing on God. He has been gracious with me and been very present. I can feel him speaking to me through the Bible, books I’m reading, sermons, songs and even a movie.
I’m still not great at being quiet, but I’m learning. I have taken to swimming for prayer. The monotnous rhythm and motion of gliding through the water lap after lap helps calm my mind. Every lap I pray and listen. I’m not an expert swimmer or an expert prayer-er. But it helps. I like the woosh of the water, it drowns out my own thoughts. Every turn reminds me to refocus.
I’ve found that after five days of wooshing and turning I look forward to my time in the water with God. I feel more focused, refreshed and able to face my problems. I still don’t have answers. All the sediment is still there but I’m learning to let go of more of it.