Through Stained Glass: Creative Creatures

(I shared these words the other day via a different blog post. I continue to sit with this reflection, especially as I prepare for another afternoon creating with junior high students. Yesterday we asked them what makes their heart sing--or what brings out their inner creative genius. You wouldn't be surprised that music and play are often what inspire the children to create. Each time we spend with these students, I find myself wondering about what I am creating...and I don't mean work-related. I must admit, my outlines for our summer Bible study on Revelation have been pretty impressive, my creativity isn't limited to the church. I hope the words below cause you to pause and consider what creative dream you're giving life to these days!)

Growing up, I didn’t think I was a creative person. Looking back, of course, I see this isn’t true. I had a big and wild imagination. I loved creating games, writing short stories and making them into books, and building Wiffle ball fields wherever I could on my parents’ 8+ acres of land.

Yet, all I ever was told, explicitly or implicitly, was that I was an athlete. Being in the band was lame. Artists were strange. Woodshop kids were the ones you stayed away from when school was out.

Goodness—how embarrassing and hurtful those stereotypes were (and are).

What I realize now is this—I was too afraid to venture out beyond the narrative I chose, which also happened to be the one handed to me. Fear prevented me from scratching that itch to create something off the baseball field. I was too afraid of being judged by my peers and not being as good as those creators I secretly envied. It is no wonder why I identify with the purple fear guy in the movie 'Inside Out'!

It’s taken me 20+ years, but here I am finally acknowledging that I am a creative person. I think Brene Brown says it best when talking about being creative: 

"There is no such thing as creative and non-creative people, only people who use their creativity and people who don't." 

We are all creative beings--after all, aren't we created in the image of the Creator of the Universe? I agree that:

 God is endlessly imaginative and creative. Those who are intensely curious, open, and creative are probably deeply in touch with the One who continues to generate all the “ten thousand things” that surround us. (Richard Rohr)

I read these words today by @questlove, and the truth that all of us are creative people warmed my spirit. Creativity requires time, energy, and believing (even just a little) that we are creatives.

Creative Quest by Questlove

Change. 

Creativity.

Community. 

Imagine if we all started from the place of creative affirmation and not productive judgment? The world would probably be a little more fun and beautiful--a bit more like God hopes it would be!

Friends, I encourage you to create something today. Then, be bold and release it into the world. Don't be afraid--you aren't alone in this creative endeavor. We are all participating with you. That's why it is important that we change our narrative by participating in the larger one rooted in Scripture—that we are co-creators with the Divine and can change the world.

Through Stained Glass: Tecumseh's Take

Writing with no thumbs is challenging. I hope to send dis bloggo to
my editor next time around. Until then, here is one doggos (Tecumseh) take
on the summer thus far with my hooman who is your pastor!
Look at my reading material? 

Henlo, frens.

Guess who dis is? It is Tecumseh—or as dad likes to callz me—the GenralL.

Dis is my fewst time on da computer, pardon the type-Os. Having no fumbs makes dis difficult. Mayb I will have da Queen spell check it for me when I’m done.

I think dis is da part where dad says sumding about peace and jesus and henlo. So, you are lubbed!

NEwayz, dad is off at the kirk house again, so I thought itd be a good time to share sum of my thoughts wit you. Dis idea came from a little pile of notes some critter left at dat place. All of his notes and papers were signed, “Da Church Mouse.” Dat duy was clever, and funny. If I met him now, I’d give him a high-paw! My favorite was how he called da preacher duy ‘Bonz.’ Does ne1 know why he did?

Dad and I had school last night (Monday). Dis is round two for this doggo—my hooman says he wants me to hang out in the study at church and go on visits with him when I get bigger. I says to him, “As long as those other hoomans gib me treats and scratches, I’ll go anywhere!” My hooman is a pretty good servant to me and my sister, Chloe. Doe he is not home as we’d like, the hooman still takes us on walks and gibs us love.

Lately, da hooman been carrying around lots of books about creativity. De other day he was droning on and on about sum guy name Pierre Teilhard de Chardin—all I kno is dat hooman speaks in French and did phiblosody. NEwayz, my hooman says de Chardin has this quote about the earth, which has been his inspiration for “The Center of Creativity and Community.” Dat hooman said, “The world is round so that friendship may encircle it.” Wut my hooman hopes da students at The Center create da most is friendships. Da other night my hooman went on and on about all da art the kiddos are making—paintings, poetry, and pictures wit sumding called a “polaroid”!?! Not sure wut dat is, but sound delicious!

Three days last week my hooman was gone for 13 hours! Thank Dog some frens came over to let me and da Queen out. I can tell he really likes what he is doing. I know he worries about some of the messes left in da room you hoomans call the parlor and CE bilding. All I really caught in dat monologue was something about bar-b-q. Once he started on about da Bible and Revelation, I went back to eating his book.

Well, my paws are cramping from all dis typing. I kno my hooman hadn’t written on this blog in a while and I thought I’d help him out and give you all a bit of a ‘wuts goin on.’

I hope to write again soon. Until den, keep your snouts to da ground and send your fren Tecumseh (dats me) all da treats.

Cump

Through Stained Glass: Good Friday

“Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.” John 19.25b

Anyone who has attended a Good Friday service at the First Presbyterian Church over the past five years has probably noticed a piece of art.

It is the one with the Marys.

It is a black and white picture. Everyone is wearing black except for one of the Marys. It’s probably the mother of Jesus, but I like to think it is the Magdalene. What is so striking is that this figure is in white, and the artist has shown her overcome with grief and nearly collapsing. The pain she holds in her body is noticeable and unbearable. I daresay, when you look at it long enough, you feel her pain and torment in your body and soul, too. Off in the distance.. off to the right… is Golgotha, “the Place of the Skull.” The crosses are empty. The sky is transitioning—from light to dark. The agony, the pain, and the trauma experienced that day is palpable.

If I’m honest, the artist’s depiction of this scene following Christ’s crucifixion isn’t why I bought the artwork. In fact, why I did has very little to do with the depiction at all.

Look closely.

Closer.

Closer still.

You’ll see there is a crack in the glass. It cuts across the Mary wearing white. It cuts right across her heart, even. This blemish is why the artwork was 75% off. The store where I purchased it had placed under a sign that read, “Damaged.”

Sure, if there wasn’t a crack, I would have likely appreciated the artwork but kept on walking. But it was this crack in the glass that captured my gaze, and right there, in the middle of the store, I wept. This stunning piece of art that was once good enough for some hefty price was reduced and declared bad because of a crack.

Good Friday. The day Love was executed for doing just that… loving.

Good Friday. The day the Marys wept, and the day we weep at the many cracks in our lives.

Good Friday. The day—as Frederick Buechner puts it—that is anything but good.

Today is the day the people who know God through Christ have permission to give ourselves over to the sadness and the many tragedies in this world… and in our lives. Today is the day we can selfishly and selflessly name what grieves us. Today is the day we can name those moments when we ask, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Today is the day we can acknowledge our humanness, because in the crucifixion of the Christ we can name the humanness of the Divine.

Don’t get me wrong, I know resurrection is coming. I know Mary Magdalene will be the first apostle and will bring the confusing good news to the men who denied and wandered away from Jesus in the hours he needed them most. But, I also know that in order for the good news to be good, we have to name the bad, weep with the bad, and sit with the bad…

… and perhaps, like the Mary in white… have the bad place its scar right over our hearts so that on the third day, we might see what resurrection, restoration, and redemption to our Spirit-beloved and God-created values shall be.

Through Stained Glass: Who Are We--Everything

Guiding us this Lent is the question “Who are we?” On Wednesday’s we are learning what it means to be ourselves and to live as God created us to be. This is God’s desire for us—to be our true selves. To be our true selves, as we have discussed and continue to discover, means allowing God to find and reveal our true selves to us.  

            Did you know that in both the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, the heart is the place of divine movement where spiritual transformation occurs?

            The question asked of us a few weeks ago was, “What does this door to your heart look like?” I asked those participating to create a piece of art describing the door. Some used poetry, some painted pictures, and one even created a piece of music.

            The follow-up question was: What is on the other side of the door?

            For next week, we will explore what stands in the way of opening the door to others? Or to ourselves?

            It is my hope you will participate with us.

(Below is the description to my artwork above. The poem is a work in progress, as we all are.)

Mine is a door weathered and worn.

The years show.

It is a heavy door that slams as it closes—always.

The wood has faded and is rough as a cat’s tongue.

Still, the doors are noticeable. Admirable.

The handle is black, metal, cold. Silver in some places. Used.

Even if it is unlocked, it doesn’t open at first. A good tug is required.

The frame is vintage before it was cool. Standard and strong.

Cement and brick highlight the details in the woodworking.

The big bad wolf didn’t even bother to try. Sturdy. Often unsteady.

An original door. The conversation will happen.

“But the cracks are where the light gets in?”

The way is paved with Truth. Half-truths. Promise. Sarcasm. Fear. Hope.

“And where the energy escapes.”

The door is beautiful, a little messy, and charming. Dependable.

Notice the steps—a bit wonky and chipped.

The sun glares off the glass; what is on the other side is its reflection.

Ivy clings, weaves its way around the arch and waterfalls through, too.

The door is more than wood; it is the place where Wisdom enters.

Slipping messages under the door is easy since the sweep was swept away.

The threshold is all but gone; the jamb is unemployed.

Puzzling this door still works.

The hinges need oiling; the transom bows out; the strike plate picked too many times.

Love knocks on this secret door—

The door remains, though it changes, too.

Transparent, yet opaque. It is a knowing place only accessible by unknowing everything.

The Door of Divinity, yes—a channel of love.

Great Door of Love. Heavy Door. God, the 'Opener and Closer of Doors'--

“I am the gate…” Jesus 

“I am the Door…” Buddha

“A door opens in the center of our being and we seem to fall through it into the immense depths which, although they are infinite, are all accessible to us.” Merton

 The Center is on the other side.

The door swings free.

 The door is locked.

Listen.
Ask.
Wait.

The voice behind this door is my revelation, too:

“I will come in and eat with you, and you with me…” 3.20

The Voice calls out to everyone; it knocks on this weathered and worn door.

Knock. With Wisdom, it is never a joke.
Open it--everything, everything, is waiting for you.