Living your Story

Am I living a great story? In reading different blogs and books lately, I keep running across this question. As a storyteller, am I myself living a great story?

I should be.

I have some goals in my life right now, one of the major ones being to become a published author, a creator of stories. But what if I never get published? Does that mean I am not a storyteller? No—I will keep writing stories no matter what, because I am a writer and stories can change the world.

But is my life going to be about telling  stories or living a story? I want to know how to live a good story. What my life should be filled with outside my writing time, and how that life pours into my writing time, because it’s all of part of who I am. What lives am I affecting when I sit at home on a Christmas break, when I go out to run errands, or when I just dance in my room? Am I affecting lives other than my own? That is the question that runs deep in all of us I think.

I don’t have all the answers, and I can’t tell you I’m necessarily spending my time as I should, treating people how they should be treated, and living a good story. But I want to.

And then today I thought Maybe living a great story has more to do with how in love I am with God than with anything else. Now that’s a thought. Maybe the more I fall in love, the more real and exciting and purposeful my story will be. I think this is more true than I can see right now. I felt like God wanted me to read part of Song of Solomon this morning, like He just wanted me to know how much he longs for me, for my presence and my love.

Could it be that simple? To live a great story is to live a life in love with the Creator? What else could be the key, really? Isn’t this what makes us come most alive?

In the midst of my storytelling and story living, I desire to be constantly aware of God’s love. If I am, who knows who might come alive today?

Sneak Peek "Colin's Vision" from my novel in progress

Disorientation didn’t quite seem the proper word, but rather a gross understatement for the way Colin felt. He didn’t know where he was, only that he was alive. Maybe. The images in his mind were slowly fading away, but he felt from the experience that he had just lived 100 more years, though not so much in earthly time. He couldn’t really think of any further explanation for it, just that there was nothing in the world that could be compared to what he had just felt. It seemed like it had been so long since he had dwelt on the current Earth, and that’s why it took him a while to reorient his mind, soul, and body. The memory hung onto the edges of his consciousness, still so real. It gripped him and he actually didn’t want it to let go.

            It was more of a tangible experience than merely a series of images. He didn’t know when it began, but he remembered finding himself kneeling on a dusty hill, tears streaming down his sweaty face, though he didn’t know why he was crying. But then something stirred inside of him like he was remembering who he was or where he was, and he looked to his right, where two women dressed in dirty robes and headdresses knelt beside him, also weeping. He recalled his name then—John. But he wasn’t John. But he was; he knew it like he knew his favorite color.

            Looking up he became aware of the darkness around him, yet there stood three prominent objects against the blackened clouds. They were rough hewn crosses, each with a man hanging on it. His eyes were riveted on the one in the middle, for immediately comprehension came. It was Jesus. Jeshua. His best friend, dying there in agony. There was a sign above his head that drew his eyes. He couldn’t recognize the markings on it at first but then his mind told him again that he was John and of course he understood Hebrew. It read This is Jesus, the King of the Jews. The sudden realization of the mockery that was taking place stung his eyes and caused more tears to flow. Through the haze over his eyes he saw an ominous black cloud with an outline of neon light bordering its billowing edges. The cloud nearly overtook the light, yet the light remained. Somehow that thought set his heart ablaze, then he looked into his best friend’s face. That was precisely the moment when Colin, or John, lost all sense of time. It was too real to be a dream, but too sensational to be real.

            Yet it was real. His mind screamed no but his thoughts didn’t seem to carry as much weight as they once had. They were just…insignificant in light of all this.

            He heard, as if the words were literally reverberating inside his brain, a loud but strained voice call out “Eli! Eli! Lema sabachthani?” It was Jeshua, right? Or was it him? He couldn’t tell the difference. The next thing that invaded his awareness was the threatening presence of evil, and then his eyes found them. Demons.

            They were taunting Jeshua as he died, and they were taunting him. They swirled around him and hissed into his ears until he could hear no other sound. He wanted to cover his ears with his hands, but he couldn’t move them.

            “He has forsaken you! He has forsaken you!” They whispered harshly, followed by cackles of satisfaction.

            He couldn’t move; the mocking seemed to go on for an eternity, and all his eyes could see were dark, hideous forms moving in circles about him. Then, after a seemingly endless amount of verbal torture, a thought finally made its way somewhere into his being, and it outmatched the voices. He had to say something.

            He had to say something back!

            Somehow he gathered all the reserves of his strength and made his lips move. “Nooooooooooooooo!” he called out, reaching toward the middle cross. “Nooo! He has not left me! He has not left us!” As his arm had reached out, it parted the circle of demons and cleared his sight in front of him. He could see Jeshua’s gory form and knew he was dead. But there was life. There! Above him hovered two glorious beings bathed in light which pushed back the surrounding darkness, seeming to invalidate it completely. One of them looked at him with understanding and compassion in his eyes and he knew it wasn’t the end. Wait—he always knew that, right? He believed in God, right, the God who was alive and active?

            The angel held his gaze and said, “My name is Lucius. And this, my friend, is far from over.” The words filled him with so much peace that he hardly noticed that the demons had vanished. He felt he was in this state for another unidentifiable amount of time, and then he was fading away.

            The next thing he knew was that he didn’t know anything. Just the lingering experience that was no more in the past than the things he had yet to go through.

            No, disoriented wasn’t quite the right word.

Jesus

What is it like to sit down and spend time with Jesus? This is one of my favorite things to do. This morning I had this picture of him just sitting down with me like a friend, just to talk and to be together. But I noticed something different than if I were with any other friend.

It was the way he looked at me. The fact that he knows me inside and out does not scare me; rather, it gives me security like no one else can. This is the one who created me with a bottomless love, who formed me with care and precision. This is the one in whom I find my identity and my definition. When I am with him, truly, nothing even needs to be said, though he understands when I do need to talk.

This is the one who sees both the darkness and the light in me and still looks on me with love. I am free in his company. This is the one who already gave everything up for me and who promises to never go back on his word. How can he after enduring such sacrifice? When I am with him it’s like being with a friend who knows every bad thing I have done but is still enduringly faithful.

He is not thinking about my mistakes. He is thinking about the perfection with which he created me and the Spirit of God that makes me nothing but beautiful in his eyes.

Jesus is fully human at the same time he is God, so that’s how I can relate with him. All I know is that being fully known is liberating.

I pray we all know Jesus in this way more and more. Let him bring this revelation to you in the way my words cannot.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kcle5P0lEtA

The Touch we Need

            When I think of what happened today, in my mind’s eye I see parents, broken and weeping, and through the blur that their tears have created over their eyes, they look on a world that now seems unreal, or at least seems to have lost its former significance.

            Because all they can see is their son or their daughter. All they can imagine is how it felt to hold them close with a heart enlarged with an undying love.

            A love that would have done anything to protect their child.

            What a helpless feeling to know that you can’t, that someone violently harmed your beloved son or daughter, and you can’t change that. I would venture to say that the people affected by the tragedy in the Connecticut elementary school today do not want to hear why it will all be okay. Sometimes emotion trumps logic or can tend to cloud even our deepest held convictions about life. I’m not saying that’s good, but it’s a reality that so many face when hit with suffering.

            So where is our hope? Surely it is not in the goodness of the world. Could it lie in second chances? These parents don’t get a second chance with their child. I think only God knows. I could come up with a lot of fancy words to try to explain why there is hope in Jesus, and of course I believe this to be true, but I know only God can communicate to the suffering in the exact way they need it.

            God often brings to my mind a picture of his healing when I am in a place of confusion or hurt or loneliness, and that is the image of his hand on my heart. I can almost tangibly feel it, and it seems to instantly break me down and comfort me. It’s like a deep massage of all my hurts by someone who knows and cares about them all and about who I am as a person. God knows the touch we all need.

            I just pray that each of these family members and friends of the victims will feel God’s touch, whether it is his healing hand on their hearts or a gentle whisper that speaks of an understanding that cannot be contested. Many of us have had those experiences, the times when we just can’t argue with what we have encountered, and though it goes beyond all our logic or emotions, we know it is true.

            And, perhaps, God has a second chance for these people that they cannot see quite yet. Though their children may not be, they are still breathing, and they are loved by their Creator in such an unfathomable way, just as their sons and daughters were also loved. We live in a broken world, but one that God wants to heal. That is his good heart towards us.

            Besides, he relates with our pain on a very personal level. He gave up his son to death to gain our love. If we truly got this, wouldn’t we trust him? I pray that these people can and will.

            There is yet hope.

            I came across this song by Switchfoot today that seemed to me to correspond with this tragedy in some way. I feel like the first part speaks of a father or a mother who is expressing how much their child’s heart means to them, how important it was to them when they were born. I see it also as Father God speaking to us, to the parents of the victims, even, how much he cares for their lives, telling them that he is always theirs. When it gets to the “Hallelujah” part, I feel like this is the response of someone who has received this Father’s care for them, and who is taking hold of their “second chance” by giving themselves completely to him.

            He understands.

“This is the star, this is your heart
This is the day you were born
This is the sun, these are your lungs
This is the day you were born

And I am always, always, always yours
And I am always, always, always yours

These are the scars deep in your heart
This is the place you were born
And this is the hole where most of your soul comes ripping out
From the places you've been torn

And it is always, always, always yours
And I am always, I'm always, I'm always yours

Hallelujah, I'm caving in
Hallelujah, I'm in love again
Hallelujah, I'm a wretched man
Hallelujah, every breath is a second chance, yeah

And it is always, always, always yours
And I am always, I'm always, always yours
Always, always, I'm always yours, I'm yours
Always, always, I am always yours”

By Switchfoot

Creative Expectation

If you're an artist, I'm sure you have had those moments when you just wanted to create something. It was as if there was no other option in the moment--you just had to create. You were inspired by a movie, a book, a conversation with a good friend, or your personal encounter with Jesus, and your spirit was stirred to produce a piece of utter beauty.
But how hard was it to get started? That is often the problem, isn't it? Even when the inspiration is there, the words, the moves, the lyrics, the brush strokes don't always come as you imagined them to. They don't always accurately tell of the feelings that have compelled you so strongly.
We all want to give something of value to the world. We want our words, our creations to matter to someone else, to reverse some injustice in the world, to heal a heart or two, to bring meaning to someone's life.
I am no expert, but I do know this: We have something of value to offer the world. We can change things through our art.
I have been reading some books that have pointed out the fact that so many of us are just afraid to begin, or finish something for that matter. We either feel inadequate at the start, or unqualified once we do, and we let it hinder what could be released through our God-ordained creativity.
God has been speaking to me about taking risks. Risks are about Him. Trusting Him to do through us what we know we cannot possibly do on our own. Let's do something different. I think there are a lot of dreamers in this world. I am one of them. We hear phrases a lot like "Dream big," and we think, yeah, I should dream big. Why limit the possibilities?
Exactly! But don't just dream it. Next time a great and seemingly impossible idea comes to you, try it. Don't be afraid of rejection or failure. If we never act on the dreams we have been given, nothing will ever happen, and the world won't change.
We are disqualified, in so many ways. But that fact has not caused our Creator to disqualify us. Why do you think He gave that idea to you of all people? Hmmm...
He will do through you what you can't. Just take those steps of faith and let Him bring the work to completion. When you don't know what to do next, instead of giving up, ask Him what you should do. Put the time and work in if there is a gap somewhere.
But never give up.
Our broken world is depending on the beauty that can only be released when we act on the dreams God has given us.
Let's start creating, and expect the Author of creativity to breathe on our acts of faith.

Secret Garage Forts and DC Talk

Did you ever have that place as a kid that was just your special place? Probably not somewhere the adults in your life would even want to go, but you loved it because you could make it your own? Many of us enjoyed building forts as kids, whether it was with chairs and blankets, treehouses, or cardboard boxes that we called home. I find it amusing that kids seem to be attracted to small spaces. I see this all the time with the little girl I nanny for. I’ll come out of the bathroom and she’ll be nowhere in sight, and when I start calling her name she’ll answer in that muted voice and I know she has squished her little body into some tight space, like a kitchen cabinet or crowded closet and is having the time of her life just being able to do that.

 

Kids are so creative—with their innovative thoughts on how to make a cardboard box a personalized home, or a space ship or a car, which is more common among boys. I just love the creativity and personality that is displayed through this kind of play, and I actually think it says a lot about our potential as artistic and inventive people, created in THE Artist’s, Creator’s, Musician’s, Dancer’s, and Inventor’s image.

I was just remembering last night that when I was ten my brother, my cousin who was living with us at the time, and I used to go almost every day down to this little tiny cubby room in our garage, a space under the stairs. It was our special secret place, and we definitely made it our own. Almost every day we would come up with something more to add to our little place to make it more homey, if you will. We drew little pictures and put them up on the walls, we brought down a small chair, and we would even bring our homework down there and (attempt) to do it. We started bringing music tapes and a tape player down too, so we would have music to listen to. I remember our MC student at the time always showed my brother the cool stuff he was listening to. DC Talk’s Jesus Freak was a really cool one for us at that time. I remember loving the Jesus Freak song and wanting to hear it over and over again. There was also a feature on our awesome tape player that allowed us to record our own voices onto tapes. Oh, the endless fun and entertainment THAT brought about!

I love having memories like this. I think if I went down there and took a look into that cubby again, I would find a space that I could hardly fit into now and probably find remnants of our days virtually living in there.

For all of us, fragments of our good memories still live in one form or another. I think these are good things to hold onto; I’m not talking about being a pack rat, but rather cherishing the moments that brought us joy as a child, and also letting them speak to who we are now. I know that in all of our lives there are things we want to forget too, things that bring us pain to think about. God can heal us of those memories and show us how he was there with us, but let’s also thank him for the times that have branded something fond and positive in our hearts. Those creative moments, those precious times with our siblings. The good and the bad are all a part of your story. Give God the hurt, but don’t forget the meaning behind all he has allowed you to do or experience.

And the songs, or the books that spoke to you as a child, don’t dismiss those. Something was calling you back then. It was probably God’s voice, telling you a little bit about himself or who he made you to be.

I still want to be a Jesus Freak.

The Middle of this Place

The beauty in the air
Surrounds me until I know you are there
And your love speaks through the wind
Inviting me to go on
This sometimes treacherous adventure
Where I find your life in the midst of pain
And your breath that inspires me to move
To push through the darkness in my heart
And as I cling to you, let you wash me white
In this broken place you receive me in
Your heart surrounds mine and I’m your child
Captured by a love so wild
I wish I had better words
I am astounded that you take my shame
And make me new whenever I call on your name
I’d rather live with you than with me
So remind me to see every time I shift a degree
That you are worth every part of me
Make me a pure vessel
Innocent again, unstained but with your blood
Move my body and my hands
To bring you glory in a beautiful dance
Of life and story
Author of love and life and grace
Just help me to see your face in the middle of this place

Darkness Inside

I want more of Jesus. In fact, I want all of him. I know we say things like this a lot, but I don't know how often we act on it. If He is really what we want, what are we goint to do about it?
I have been convicted recently of my pride. I have needed to acknowledge it for some time, but haven't brought myself to it until now. I see that it is worth it to face the darkness inside of me. It's not something I have to fear, but it is something that must be obliterated. So I have to die. I have to make the decisions that strain against my will.
I am desperately seeking God's help in this, because I have seen how hard it has been for me to make decisions I don't want to make. The ones in those little moments that pass by so quickly and can cause instant regret.
I don't want to ignore my pride anymore, because if I want Jesus, truly, I must change. I must become less so he can live in me. So his beauty can come forth more purely in my creativity and in my relating with people.
His love for me is so strong and he is so for me. It is the same for you. Let's not be afraid to face our darkness, for only then can we allow the light to invade.