Thought I would Share...

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I read this lovely little blurb tonight while working on some dance ministry homework, and thought I would share. Clumsy at times, I can definitely relate to breaking vases, or really anything else for that matter. Hope this gets the wheels turning, beginning to think about God's love:

God's Transforming Power
Once whilst traveling I found a lovely oriental jar in a market. It was beautiful and I knew it would go wonderfully in our home. I took great care of it, carrying it with me in the plane so it wouldn't break. As we stepped out of the taxi in front of our home, I placed it carefully on the ground. As I turned after getting the other bags, I promptly trod on it. I heard that dreadful tinkling noise that meant of course that it was broken into many pieces. I was so disappointed but stayed up late into the night piecing it back together. My husband couldn't see the point of going to so much trouble to fix it; however, he hadn't chosen it, or carried it, or loved it.

Even though over the years you can see the glue marks, it still serves as a reminder to me of our brokenness and of God's love in putting the pieces back together. Left alone the human spirit is like a piece of that jar, shattered and useless. But in God's eyes it seems to be a picture of our wholeness.
-Author Unknown

So this got me thinking about how great God's love really is. And then, I realized that His love transcends merely 'putting the pieces back together.' If compared to a jar, vase, or pot, those who are in Christ actually become entirely new jars, vases, or pots! New creations, in other words. God's ability to (re)create, renew, refresh, restore, and more absolutely astonishes me. I can hardly begin to get to the bottom, or top, or sides of this kind of love, but I do know that it's worth swimming in. Just a thought. Feel free to share any comments, thoughts, etc, below.

    

A Life Hidden & New.

 

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The morning was raw. Those first moments of waking from a deep sleep and trying to walk to the bathroom without falling over into a coma are often brutal.

As soon as the rich, dark coffee hit my veins though, the tides of that day began to turn. The ‘on’ light to my brain clicked alive, there was hope after all. I know, it’s a bit dramatic, but for me it’s often reality. And on this particular morning, my mind began to go on autopilot, asking things like,

“What do I need to accomplish today?”

“Really, if I don’t accomplish something today I might just wither up like the flower in that vase over there.”

My mind was going through a checklist, even though I just moved to a new city, have no ‘official’ job yet, and have a juicy summer to explore. But with unlimited amounts of caffeine at my disposal, my mind plugged along, and I decided a trip to the local library was in order. It was a type-A moment.

My drive to the library was nothing ordinary. Gigantic mountains loomed to the west, draped in fresh morning sunshine. Luscious trees and greenery exploded from my peripheral vision, and there was no shortage of early-rising bikers and runners lining the sidewalks. I wondered who they were and where they were going.  Already my steel resolve to ‘accomplish’ without distraction cracked.

Just as I was about to walk into a building filled with thoughts and ideas worthy of dissection, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Are you a Colorado voter?” a very soft-spoken, middle-aged woman probed.

Against my impulse to just run into the building and ignore her obvious interruption of my ‘accomplishing’ mode, I sighed, very loudly, and replied, “What is this petition for?”

Noting my overt annoyance she kindly explained that it was to help land an issue on the fall ballot to increase funding for K-12 education. Hmm, an issue I genuinely cared about, and I was about to shrug off the opportunity to fight for it, all in the name of my own ‘accomplishment.’

Her gentle mannerisms and patience with my self-seeking attitude caught me off guard. They soothed something in me in such a way that I felt convicted for failing to see the needs of those around me. There is always something to ‘accomplish,’ even if that something comes along completely out of my control.

As the week wore on, my God faithfully began to open my eyes to the fact that this life is no longer just my own, but that He gets to live it through me.

His life explodes from me in lengthy conversations with my sister Jennifer, who is fighting to complete school amidst a difficult season of test taking and making a long-distance relationship work.

I see His life bubbling to the surface on runs with my good friend Emily, whose beautiful spirit and perspective are refreshing in a world filled with gunk.

I hear His life in the words of my husband, who tells me that I have the freedom to cry, even though I secretly know it freaks him out to see girls cry. Even so, he patiently comforts me and listens without judgment. (How did I get so lucky?)

His life is displayed as I watch my dear friend Missy comfort her two-month-old son, who is an adorable, chunky little hipster.

Life is not found in accomplishing things or checking things off of a to-do list, though those things are important. Life is not even always found in doing. And thank goodness, because we don’t always do good things. Real, exciting life doesn’t even come from keeping a set of rules to a tee.

Life leaps out of a Person, Jesus Christ. And when this person is Alive inside of us, we become more than a biologically alive human being. Who we are is alive in Him. A new story full of new life opens, a new identity is forged. An identity rooted in unconditional love and a grace so huge it takes eternity, starting now, to explore.

“Whoever seeks to keep his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it.”    Luke 17:33

The Borders Inside.

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The phrase, “The arts have the power to break borders,” has graced my ears many times. That is, the arts have the power to tear down barriers between different people groups, where no other language has yet been able to, in order to spark a genuine connection between these people.

Like that first spark when creating a campfire just as the dusk snuggles in; it is a flicker of light and hope.  And this concept has always fascinated me. Perhaps because it uses creativity as a palpable tool for effecting lives on a massive scale.

To my surprise, this ‘creativity spark’ ignited, perfectly timed, at a smaller level within myself. The wonder of movement demolished a barrier that I’d constructed, one that hindered my ability to receive from God.

Let me explain. This season is peculiar to me. I’ve just moved to a new city, to be surrounded by little that is familiar – things like close community, the feel of driving familiar roads, places that are special to me simply because of the shared memories created there. This lack of familiarity screams adventure to me, but all in the same breath it brings moments when I feel like I’m floundering. It breeds new exploration, new community, new memories, fresh movement and space and breath. And, at times, freshly squeezed pain.

And so, with these brief pinpricks of uncertainty over the past couple of weeks came a frightful response: close off all vulnerability to my Creator. After all, He’s the one who led me here. What is He doing?

It almost reminds me of the frustration I felt as a child when playing that dreaded ‘bop-the-squirrel-on-the-head-game’ at arcades with my cousins. I hated that game because I could never predict when a little plastic rodent would rear its ugly head, and then just as quickly disappear before I could reach it. Like those pesky rodents, the moments of raw pain at leaving a place I loved seem to arise with no predictable rhythm, and without a way for me to squash their existence. And, since I’ve been here, I’ve struggled. I’ve fought to embrace this place with grace, with longing to devour the new with a distinct guttural passion familiar to me. I have little events or activities to distract myself with.

In one such recent moment, God broke through and spoke to my heart. He told me to dance. Not for anybody but Him. And so I listened and let the movement flow forth from the River of Life.

Something very living and awakening happened. The one who molded each star in the heavens allowed me to come to this place, simply because He knows that I will almost always do things in my own strength if left to my own devices. But in this breath, I needed Him even to dance.

There was a deep communication with my Maker that I can’t put into sensible words. It was delicious. I delighted to explore all different types of movement: balletic, jumps, skips, angrily frustrated choppy, jerky movements, contract and release, turns, leaps, letting gravity pull me to the ground.

And for those moments it was as if something in the deepest parts of myself that needed to be uplifted was, and was also deeply understood and embraced by my loving God. It was as though He let me know that He empathized with me via dance. There was a healing moment, right there in that place, as a daughter danced with her Creator.

Raw and honest, He saw me, loved me, inspired me, and moved with me.

A song that inspires:

Waiting Beneath the Rush

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A night full of dreaming.
A head in the clouds.
Clamped inside - pressure.

A day in Freedom,
aware of this new,
creation.

Morning quiet,
stillness-
remembrance-
of a girl,
waiting beneath the rush.

To speak & move
alert,
brimming with life,
freely active.

Sometimes, letting gravity lead,
is like breathing,
after being in a smoke-filled room.
A breath-
Rejuvenate.
A welcome respite,
for tired muscles.

An Illustration of Freedom

Like real life, dance is multi-dimensional, never flat. It draws something from the very depths of my being and ignites the person that Christ created me to be.

It reminds me that the Lord adorns those that He loves, as a symbol of the beautiful mystery Who lives in His new creations - namely Jesus Christ. The creator, beauty-maker, ferocious healer, our God. His Spirit faithfully leads.

He is in us, and we are in Him. He dances over us, He is faithful to no end.

For me, there are moments onstage when I've expended so much energy that I feel like I'm going to puke. Heat molecules dash to escape my pores, as if I were a little engine. In the midst of all this dashing, leaping, spinning, hoisting, movement, is the Spirit. Though He is active, He also brings an inner stillness, a grounding force. He allows me to see beyond the exhaustion to dance.

In life, He allows me to see more than mere circumstances into a Joy that comes from knowing I am made new. Because of Him, I have the ability to choose freedom, when before I did not. Movement can illustrate this freedom.

I am in Him, and He is in me, and it is my honor to dance and live in my Creator.

"If we are faithless, He will remain faithful, for He cannot disown Himself."
                                                        -2 Timothy 2:13

A poem for my mama

No Battle can I fight,
without His footing,
His words,
hugs,
Life.

Blue sky was trying to escape,
from the snow-packed sky,
it almost made me laugh,
to see winter and spring fight.
A song called 'Pure' graced the morning,
because He has the power to strip away all,
making it bare,
to bring it back to life,
and that is my prayer.

To fear nothing more than the Lord,
my God.
His dance is called, 'Beautiful,'
He delights in the children He formed,
His embrace is near.

"To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone. On the white stone is written a new name that no one knows except the person who receives it." Revelation 2:17

Butterfly on a Kitchen Counter...

Butterflies in full bloom are majestic, like little fairies
splatter-painted by God. I looked at a dead one last night, my room
mate found it on a bike trip. So intricately hand-crafted by the Lord,
that my mind began to creatively wonder, what caused this butterfly's
death? How long had it waited for that beautiful set of wings? It was
beautiful laying on that kitchen counter, but also out of place.
Truly, it belonged flying through the air, with magnificence on
display
Sometimes, our own stunning and wonder is kept at bay, as we let
ourselves or others relegate our beauty and prowess to inappropriate
places. Much like a delicate butterfly lying dead on a kitchen
counter. Our minds are sponges, absorbing the sensory info,
conversations, experiences, etc, throughout the day. A lot of these
things may lie to us, slowly eroding our ability to believe the Truth.
Slowly inhibiting our ability to fly.
Yet, there is a filter, if we choose it. Marvelously creative,
infinitely intelligent. Upon viewing some of His designs we might
think- 'Gross, who would craft an insect that lays in its own spit? Or
that sucks blood?' When we stay in these questions alone, we with
subtlety begin to shove our own wonder into a box. We limit. We crave
comfort and false understanding first.
Then we try to fly, but we find that little chunks of our wings are
missing. We can't see the whole picture, so we ignore what of the
picture we actually can see. If we can't understand God, then we make
Him to be smaller and less significant then is the Truth, or we ignore
His existence altogether. When this happens we are like a stunning
butterfly, lying dead on a kitchen counter. Forfeiting the wonder of
who we are in Him, for the perceived comfort of death.