This book ate my whole head.

I am reading The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron for a small group I just joined. I just wanted to put it out there and say the first twenty-ish pages of this are amazing. That is as far as I have gotten, in part because I read the introduction. (PS- the intro was good too.)
I have two things from the first twenty that have kicked me in the face.
First, is part of a list that Cameron says to read every day to remind yourself of basic spiritual principles of creativity. the whole list is fantastic, but this particular one made me super nervous. I actually felt my heart rate go up.

It is safe to open ourselves up to greater and greater creativity.

AHHHHHH! Eve typing that makes me nervous. Safe? Are you sure? I long for safety/ My lawyer husband tells me I am one of the most risk adverse people he has ever met.... and he is a lawyer. Well poop. he is totally right. I pack my carry-ons just so, so they are easily navigable in case I am suspected of carrying liquids in beyond the proper amounts, or heaven forbid the rouge nail clippers that could be stashed. Today I mentioned to him that I was considering getting an apple cozy. YES. An apple cozy. Like a tea-cozy, but for an apple so it doesn't get bruised in your bag. I thought it sounded brilliant... he gave me the amused/slightly-wierded-out-but-still-love-you look. He's so gracious with my psychosis. After lighting a match and blowing it out, i have been known to run it under the tap before throwing it in the garbage. I don't want garbage fires. I also regularly check my drug interactions online. There are a number of other things I don't stress about, but there are plenty of things I do. Just tonight I stepped outside the cross-walk lines when crossing the road, and due to a convo last night, actually said to myself out loud "ah! contributory negligence!" because if a car were to hit me when i was out of the lines... well it could be viewed as contributory negligence! I AM A MESS!

SOOOooo- when someone claims to me that something is SAFE, especially something that I know I love but that can be terrifying and soul crushing and plain hard at moments, I kind of have a freak out. There has to be some tidy painted cross-walk lines for me to walk in during my creative excursions so that I can't be hit by nay-saying and then told my negligence was contributing. SAFE!? Where's the crossing guard and the zebra walk way?

However, I get it in my head somewhere. If God is the essence and author of all creation and creativity... the true source and light... and God is in some always 'safe' (and I don't mean that in a cross walk way) or good... then it follows that opening up myself to greater and greater creativity would be safe. And good. Not to mention very moral and right. Becoming more like Christ- the God-man... source, light, creator in flesh is our calling and my destiny.

Yes, yes it is, but paint me scared anyhow.

I have learned that God's version of 'safe' is ever clearly not American and ever clearly not backed up with the type of benefits package that may or may not include dental. Safe... yes. But NOT the definition of it that we know well.

Still, I am going to read that everyday, and let it ruminate (like a cow) in my brain stomach.

*sigh*

Alright. NUMBER TWO! This was a good kick in the mouth. Not sure how that works, but I imagine is something along the lines of a kung-fu super fan getting a wicked bloody nose from his venerated hero. I have never been a super-fan, so that is pure conjecture.

Right. Well. The second moment was when reading about two of the tools for recovering creativity. One is the 'morning pages' which i am not going to explain, because it is complicated, and the other is the artist date. The quick and dirty explanation of the artist-date is going out for two hours or so and doing something that furthers your love and momentum of your art.

When this was being explained to me at our small group, our fearless leader told me "this is something you are really good at." This first off shocked me... i have a hard time admitting I am good at things and to be called out right then and there was unexpected. After it was described and what could count as that.. art exhibits, craft projects, a good walk to search for inspiration, trying something new... I realized I generally am pretty good at this.

As i read the book I think I identified why I am good at this. Cameron describes this practice as quality time spent with the thing you love. She likens it to when families our couples go to counseling and are asked "so, do spend quality time together?" This month at NCC we have been going through the LOVE series and one of the things in our resource pack at the beginning of the series was a link to take the 5 Love Languages quiz. i have tried to read that book over and over again without success. Honestly I think my main problem is that the cover is generally heinous in my mind and I feel embarrassed holding it much like i am wearing a grandma sweater. The website is MUCH more pleasing to the eye and I didn't feel as if I had wandered into the thrift store valentine section without a way out. Phew! So I took the quiz, and quality time was my top love language. When I read Cameron's description of this tool I thought "aha! that is probably why I am somewhat innately good at this. I show my love through quality time, and art is something I love." My husband and art galleries are some of my favorite things that, if i were not properly watched, I might add into a song after "girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes."

Sure, this is a pat on the back to me that my creativity is perhaps not completely blocked, and clearly, by Cameron's appraisal, salvageable at the very very least. I am determined not to take this innate good thing for granted, but kick myself into keeping doing it.

So. That's that. This course is eating my face like real Thai food spice. It burns so good.
B

Surrender

Sometimes it is time to put up the white flag and surrender. This past week has been one of those weeks culminating in leadership retreat at NCC.

I love NCC. I love it for a number of reasons... none of which I am really going to mention right now... but there are a number... a big number.

This past weekend was leadership retreat. NCC pours a lot into their leaders, which is part of a sort of food-chain that grows purpose-filled leaders, and strives to make disciples that love Jesus. We have only been back in DC for a week and were pulled into leadership retreat and accepted with open arms. Even though our lives are messy right now, it is so good to be back with people who are working with what they have where they are right this minute. It encourages me. Sure, they aren't perfect, but if they were i would be worried.

As the final session of leadership retreat would down, there was a time of confession asking what we needed to confess to God and give to Him in order to go "All In." I knew that this was occurring at the end of the week-end, in part because I used to help plan this event. Still, I managed not to connect the dots on things God has been working on my heart with this week. I was reading in Mark some more this week. (Let me once again reiterate that i am a lousy Bible reader. I love it when I do it, but i definitely am a binge Bible reader, and still am working on getting better at that. ) This week I read over Mark 8 a couple times. In the first chunk it details a time when Jesus feeds four thousand people from a few loaves and fish... one his oft referenced miracles. Shortly after that miracle, he and his disciples are on a boat and the disciples start worrying about where the bread is going to come from for their upcoming meal because, well, they are on a boat. Nothing like forgetting snacks before a trip in the middle of nowhere. Jesus ends up scolding them roughly saying "Seriously guys? Have you learned anything from the experience we just had together? You honestly are still concerned about bread when I just fed a bazillion people with next to zip." Jesus even asks them how many baskets of leftovers they picked up, and the amounts are something in the neighborhood of BASKETS full. Still, the disciples seem to not quite connect the dots.

The disciples and I have a lot in common when it comes to my tunnel vision. As a literary device the disciples are you and I. Let's not dumb down the brilliance of the complex stories of the Bible. I see myself so clearly in this story this week, because provision is something that I have wrestled over praying for and have struggled to have even tiny faith about. That mustard seed that Christians talk about sometimes seems so intimidatingly real and solid compared to the faith I am trying to belch out of my soul. Like the disciples my eyes and ears have failed to function on the spiritual realm. I have had huge disconnects in seeing God's miraculous provision for me and accepting it. I have even been able to acknowledge it to other people with my mouth but not been able to accept it with my heart and there are a couple big uglies of sinful junk heaps that seem to get in my way over and over again. Pride. Fear. Motives. Those three things keep me from fully living in God's plan for me, and this week I could feel God laying into me about my sin issues in those areas.

I hate talking about sin. Part of me is very "I'm-okay-you're-okay-whatevs-it's-all-good-blah-blah-blah-hippie-hair-and-flowers" and I am coming to realize that that part of me is not sanctified. Sin is not okay, and not only not okay but it is really hard to talk about and difficult to define. What is a sin? I am not talking about what ARE sins... that's an easy thing to look up in a concordance or google the poo out of... but what is a sin. I am pretty sure it was my husband who, when asked this said "anything that keeps you out of community with God and/or others." I have generally tried to use that as a working definition, and it sucks. I want to be holy and set apart, but i am a messy mess. I have a hard time admitting when I am wrong, and I try to justify everything at all times. Somehow my inner self is still 6 years old and has to hit other kids back when they smack me and call people names and cry when i don't get my way. So when God is pushing at my concrete heart get really bent out of shape and upset. Then when I am given a chance to confess these sins that God is pulling out of my death-grip, it is often those very same sins that get in my way of confessing. Pride. Fear. Motives.

When that time came this weekend, I don't think I have ever felt more realistic about my issues, and honestly that seems like the biggest blessing. When God chooses to humble me in public, i usually turn into a crying snotty mess, and I find that extremely embarrassing, like being the kid in the dunce hat in the corner of the classroom. This time since i was paying attention to God working on my heart, I actually had a brain when confession rolled around. On the thinker to feeler scale I am truly a thinker. For most people who know me, that sounds bizarre since i am also fairly emotional, but i do make decisions based on thought and reason and not feelings. I don't trust my guts to tell me what to do, and my feelings lie when it comes to morality. So, having confession while still have a brain that isn't completely drenched in sad and panic chemicals was wonderful. I could truly recognize what it was that God wanted from me and how I was worrying about bread after witnessing a miracle.

Ian and I have been living out of suitcases for about two years, and have never been in serious want of anything important. We've had food, a roof over our heads, and we've been healthy. We've had BASKETS full of blessings above and beyond, and I still I lie awake at night wondering about where my bread is going to come from.

In Mark 9 there is all sorts of crazy that happens. Jesus brings the crazy where ever he goes. About half way through the chapter a man comes to Jesus asking for healing for his demon-possessed son whose life has been threatened by the seizures that happen to him. The father says something along the lines of "if you can heal him, will you please show us mercy and do so?" and Jesus replies "If I can?" (nothing like insulting God incarnate) and tells that man that all things are possible for those who believe. The man's reply is beautiful. “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

This really challenges me and my pissy American-feminism and spoiled-middle-class-brat self. When I insult Jesus by saying "If you can provide for me, then would you please do that?" and God provides for me in a way that challenges the sins that bind me, I respond Him not with "help my unbelief!" but rather with lashing out of temper tantrums because i want a hand-out and not something that helps me. I want Jesus to do my homework and whisper the answers to me during the test. I want God to train for the race and do the weight lifting and puking in the streets and then when my even comes, for Him to pull a Freaky-Friday body switch and let me win the race. What i don't get, pretty much ever.... is that he ALREADY HAS. he took my place in death, and I just can't grasp that because I have not experienced the final prize of his sacrifice.

So here I am at almost 2 a.m. pouring my guts onto the computer, because i need to remember this. i need to remember that i have confessed these things and that God knows that I know because we've been working on this, and now it is time to notice it and let it go in daily life. It's time to not wonder where the bread is, but to exclaim “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” And upon hearing that prayer Jesus healed the boy in the story, and I can trust that he heals me.

B