40 Days of Adoration: Heart of my Heart
by Sarah Turek
He is the heart of my heart. What does this mean to me? What does this make me think of? My center, my safe place. The place where my hopes are created. The most beautiful part of me, down deep, where the treasures of my soul are hidden. The heart of my heart is my true self.
Spirit, what does it mean to you to be the heart of my heart?
I am the one who sustains you, your inspiration, your heartbeat, the song of your life. I complete you. I am the breath of your soul, the candle that is always burning. I am the oil that does not run out. I am your compass. I am the wings of your dreams.
Father, what does it mean to you?
I am your strength. I give you my power, my love, my peace, my compassion, my glory, my creativity. I am your desire for justice, for redemption, for restoration. I am the shield and defender of your hopes. My strong right hand is always upon you.
Jesus, what does it mean to you?
I am your past, your present, and your future. I am the source of your joy, your reason for living. I am the wild hope within you that burns like a star, your best friend, your hero. I have given you my heart: to pray as I pray, do as I do, and love as I love.
When He is the core of my being, my heart is like His. My soul is pulled irresistibly, magnetically towards Him.
My heart says of you, “Seek his face!” Your face, Lord, I will seek.
− Psalm 27:8
“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord.
− Jeremiah 29:13
Forty Days of Adoration: Quite Wonderful
He is quite wonderful, in His winkings.
Matthew 6: 26-28
Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?
So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?
I was driving to work last Friday morning, extra early, to meet a few of my fellow teacher friends for breakfast. I’m not a morning person, but I love bacon. I was running five minutes late per usual, and I was feeling quite crabby. But, after years of practice, changing my approach to the day is easy: lifting my gaze. I gently refocused my eyes away from the brake lights of the slow-poke car in front of me, and there He was; He was in the bud-heavy intricate branch-work of almost-Spring trees. The line of four trees created a showy silhouette against the distant horizon as they weaved up into the clouds against a crisp lavender swirly sunrise.
And I said, “Hi.” God had winked at me.
I call these moments (where heaven gives us a glimpse of the way God sees things) as winks. They must only be winks. Think of the vastness of our Father’s beauty. Four trees? But, if we let it, the beauty inevitably breaks in for us, and our ability to see and understand these winks from our creator shows us our identity.
God gave us the ability to see, to hear, to feel his winks of beauty as his sons and daughers. His homing device in our souls is our wonder. From our earliest days of observing the world, we experienced these “sudden flashes in [our] souls / like lambent lightning on snowy clouds / at midnight when the moon is full” as Edgar Lee Masters wrote. It’s how I knew God was there all along; I recognized His handiwork. You understand and recognize beauty when you experience it—we all do. It’s His trademark move.
But, even though we all experience these flashes, worry elbows its way into our world views. Seeking, revealing, making, enjoying His beauty takes a back seat to controlling, worrying, striving, comparing.
But, in the last months, I have reason for celebration in victory against worry. One of God’s winks to me was showing me how far we have come in laying down my perfectionism in exchange for more winks. God highlighted Matthew 26 to me (above) ten years ago when I was stepping onto a yellow brick road of my own. I hoped it would lead to a city where I could trust God. I understood Jesus’s promise: the Father will always take care of us. The birds don’t worry, the lilies don’t worry. They’re both content in their livelihoods. God’s got it covered. Done and done. No worry. K. Got it. I will have food, I will have shelter, I will have clothes. Good to know.
But it’s not that one-dimensional.
Notice that Jesus chooses which things he will use to get his point across. He uses images, concepts, parts of creation that speak to our hearts as understanders of beauty. He pokes gently at God’s trademark and suddenly our wonder syncs into His point. He doesn’t just say birds. He chooses “birds of the air.” Birds soaring in the sky, now these are encapsulating. These are when birds are most beautiful to us. And why does God use soaring birds to wink at us? Because they aren’t worrying. They are beautiful and they are free. Birds trust the Lord.
Jesus doesn’t tell us to think about flowers. He says “lilies of the field, in their splendor.” Not just a flower, but lilies of the field. Dressed like kings, swaying in the breeze, basking in the sun. Free. Trusting. Can’t you imagine them in “their splendor?” I see them yellow—what color are yours?
He uses the beauty He knows we understand because he gave us the ability to resonate with His beauty. And, in addition to saying, don’t fret my pet, he is saying, “By the by, beauty doesn’t try so hard. So, be beautiful.”
When we see those trees (when you look in those eyes, when you hear the first chord in your favorite song, when you feel the first warm breeze of Spring, when you hear your best friend’s laugh, when you open your eyes) let go of the striving. I let go of my tight grip on the steering wheel, and I lifted my gaze to what makes me His. My ability to stop striving and see the beauty is connecting me to trust God and trust His identity for me, as beauty-seeker. And I am more beautiful myself when I am free.
He is quite wonderful, in his winks of beauty.
Forty Days of Adoration: Majestic, Merciful, Messiah
2 Great are the works of the LORD;
they are pondered by all who delight in them.
3 Glorious and majestic are his deeds,
and his righteousness endures forever. ~Psalm 111:2-3
The word Majesty recalls the image of royalty, robes and reigning on high. The Lord himself is majestic and we are to be awe of his glory. He is above all others; he is the one true God. However, marveling at the most high God can be somewhat abstract for me at times because I can’t relate to or share his perspective.
Most recently, I’ve found that it’s his deeds that reveal his majesty to me in a much more concrete and connected way. Majesty is not only about being glorious and above all others; it is also about revealing a noble and dignified character through actions.
I’ve struggled over time, wondering where God is, and waiting for situations to improve, all according to my perceptions and desires, of course. Now, I finally understand that he is with me at all times, throughout all situations, even those that seem unbearable.
In fact, he wanted me to understand that so deeply that he dared to become man and come to earth so that he could walk with me. He was so merciful that he took a form for me to understand that it is his desire to be with me in everything: in times of trials, in times of joy, in times of waiting and in times of celebrating.
This is his nature: not only to create everything, but to be in everything with us. He does not let us flail to the finish line, hoping that we eventually discover who he is. Instead, he is so majestic that he manifests himself to join us in our journey and be with us, every step of the way.
Majestic are his deeds. Merciful are his ways. Our Messiah – the One who was, who is, who is to come.
Forty Days of Adoration: Igniter, Encourager, Dream-giver
Indeed, to this very day when Moses is read, a veil lies over their minds; but when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed.
II Corinthians 3:15-16
I lift my Bible and hold it up to the Lord. I turn in my chair and raise my head to “face” Christ.
But, rather than the veil being simply lifted, it is ignited. Burned away by the glory of Christ. I imagine the layers of flesh and death that separate my smoky understanding from His searing revelation starting to crackle and hiss.
I see the edges of a yellow parchment (a map?) turning black and curling into oblivion. Leaving only His words, illuminated by the fire of His glory. Until the words are like gleaming embers pulsing red against a slate night.
I imagine the coal black mystery and destiny of my life begin to glow from within. Stoked. Brought into neon contrast with the darkness around me by the glory of Jesus.
I imagine the hazy sleep of death that clouds our dreams evaporating like fog on a June dawn.
Christ, come. Let my worship, my turning, my adoration of you burn away every veil that obscures my holy imagination.
Come, Igniter, Encourager, Dream-giver.
Forty Days of Adoration: Abba, Beautiful Creator
Then the LORD God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being. –Genesis 2:7
I trace my knowledge of God as creator back to my earliest days in preschool. It was the first thing I learned about him, and, even in my most formative years, I took note of its significance as evidenced by the fact that it merited a daily mention. Together with my classmates, I recited a morning catechism opening each day in unison with the words, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth . . .”
As a creative type myself, I can also trace my love of an original story, song, or entrepreneurial idea back to those same years. Scraps of paper with plots, plans, or prose scribbled in my once loopy, immature script still litter my childhood room. It would not be until the summer of 2009 that I would stumble (late) into a workshop facilitated by a man I’d never heard of – some guy named Dan McCollam – and make the connection between my penchant for beautiful words and passion for originality with an actual call on my life. To suddenly see my writing, whether academic, poetic, published (or not) as a direct reflection of the Most Original Beautiful Creator (and core to my truest identity) was game changing. When “Dano” dared assert that my most powerful act of worship was my writing, or that my creativity is a direct manifestation of the most divine nature of God (and not the frivolous, inconsequential marginalia to which I had reduced it), I held my breath. And then remembered to breathe.
“Breath” by Naomi Payne (string and paint on canvas)
Inspiration: the drawing of air into the lungs; inhalation
Fast forward to this December, to an afternoon in the mountains of Asheville, North Carolina. It was one of those moments – an entire day, actually—that could inspire a corpse to write purple prose. As I watched the afternoon sun descend behind a sloping ridge, I began to envision and adore the Beautiful Creator as reflected in the unparalleled gorgeousness of his creation. I lifted my gaze upward to meet his mountainous skyline, and a simple statement emerged from the cacophonous clutter of my routine thoughts. It paused, just at the forefront of my consciousness. And stayed there.
My dearest daughter, I FATHERED all this. I fathered creation.
And suddenly, the beauty and the truth collided. I visualized something I’d been missing all these years, since my earliest recitation of Genesis 1. As I engaged in the physical act of inspiring the crisp mountain air into my lungs, it was as if I was there, in that moment, pre-Genesis 1. Pre-Adam, in the days, years, (how do you express moments outside of time) precedent to the first recorded act of heaven-to-earth inspiration we have: father to son.
And there He was, Abba first. (Artist, the Beautiful Creator, second.) He was Abba, in the act of IMAGINING us all, as only an expectant Father could. Imagining every thing, everyone, every moment together both constrained by time on earth and released in eternity. Every planet, every person, every galaxy, every animal, every dimension. Everything known and unknown, the pending, the lapsed, the pregnant moment, the ordinary, the mundane, the genius.
For all creation—our very lives—began not as a violent conflict among gods and goddesses as in so many other ancient creation myths. Our creator was not beating back chaotic darkness to satisfy His hunger for vengeance or to invoke an oppressive power structure. He wasn’t asserting and affirming his dominance simply because he could.
Rather, Abba, hovering and humming, imagining and inspiring, speaking and breathing, dreaming and singing, wanted to be a father. With sons and daughters and heirs and friends.
Abba, we adore you. You FATHERED creation and all that we know. You are fathering your children, fathering your church, fathering reconciliation and fathering revival in Chicago and beyond. Today, as in the beginning, I imagine my good and perfect Father, present and dreaming with me. I adore you because you first adored me. And that has made all the difference.
Dissing or Dis-covering Excellence? Reflections on Arts Sunday, October 31
Can excellence really be achieved in fifteen minutes?
Rome wasn’t built in a day. The US Constitution took at least four months. Erica Henry spends weeks on one blog entry for Greater Chicago Arts. The first Harry Potter book took five years, and one interview I read years ago quoted Rowling as saying that she writes an average of ten or eleven hours per day.
Even the first and greatest Creator took six days to speak the world into existence. (Who knows how long he spent imagining everything…just for the sheer delight of it.) And then the Most Powerful One rested, even if only to model self-care to those of us who think we can work endlessly on little or no sleep, fueled simply by black coffee and an inherent drive for impact.
So why attempt to write a worship song worthy of the One who is Most Worthy in a matter of minutes? Or, even worse, two spontaneous worship songs that are inspired, projected, sung, and recorded in a total of approximately fifteen?
Why put an entire congregation on the spot and rope them into such an irresponsible exercise?
Why model a seemingly chaotic, random and irreverent process when there are so many amazing existing songs from which to choose? Songs written by respected, reverent worshippers, lyricists and musicians who cared enough to spend years of their lives composing and recording said songs?
Imagine these same worshippers, laboring over the lyrics we love best line by line, letting the melodies prayerfully form and flow naturally together on the lips, keys, and strings. Conceived in the privacy of an intimate moment between artist, instrument and inspiration, it seems hardly appropriate to thrust oneself (much less a few hundred others) into such a harmoniously honest expression before it is safely nurtured and developed into the fullness of itself, who it will become on its own, absent the constraints of premature, and possibly unrealistic, external expectations.
Indeed, it feels almost unseemly to watch, wide-eyed, the wellspring of emotion and experience surfacing on a stage usually reserved for the culmination of prayerfully polished, practiced, and (dare I say it) more profound manifestations of truth and beauty. (The second song had a country twang, for Heaven’s sake…)
Think Wimber writing Isn’t He, arguably one of the most beautiful worship songs of its time and genre…oh, wait, he wrote that one in a matter of minutes on the way to the airport. And at a time when he was feeling considerably less than worshipful after a fight with his son. (Certainly, he must be the exception.)
Am I bugging you? Oops, I don’t mean to BUG you. –Bono, Rattle and Hum
Was I trying to offend most of our artists (including myself and some of my closest friends) who have poured years of their lives and resources (both financial and personal), making costly sacrifices to pursue excellence in the form of education, internships, externships, advanced training, and post-graduate degrees?
The writers alone among us invest hours, days, weeks—even years—writing, revising, re-writing, editing (and then revising again) their plays, prose, songs, poetry…and most of that remains unseen by eyes other than their own. (Or their editors, aka family and friends.)
Worse yet, what would Excellence, the Person, think?
Did I set our arts community (which plainly cites Displaying Excellence as a core value) back ten years by virtue of even attempting such an impulsive feat?
Because we all know excellence takes time. It’s a labor of love, and, for those of us who aspire to scale its exalted heights because He deserves it, it’s worth every sleepless night weighing the merits of a simple phrase, the originality of an idea or the seamlessness of a seemingly disparate connection between this or that.
For me, to promote a haphazard writing process, tossing words carelessly on a page (I think I even misspelled a few) before I’ve barely had time to even think what I want to say, much less the appropriate metaphors to use, is, quite simply, blasphemous.
And once wasn’t enough…we did it twice, in two services. And someone even posted it on Facebook, for all the world to see.
If this is the new norm, is excellence in danger?
Laura Husmann and I shared a laugh this morning over the fact that somehow, some One had conned not one of us, but both of us, simultaneously, into doing the very thing we deem impossible. Or at the very least, untenable.
For her, finishing a good painting in a few hours over two weeks is, quite simply, RIDICULOUS. It’s not her style, process, or preference. She works in private. She uses a ruler. She has a color palate and a penchant for revealing finished works when they are, well, you know, finished.
She’s a professional—educated and experienced in design, typography, and painting at a level any most of us won’t ever achieve in this lifetime. She made choices we would never choose about how to best invest her time, energy and talents. She’s worked with some of the most creative and successful artists in her field, people with whom we’ll never rub shoulders. She’s benefitted from mentorship and collaboration with people carrying some of the most transformative, inspired excellence this side of Heaven, enjoying an access and favor we’ll only ever dream about. And that’s ok.
Because our expressions will look like ours, for they are born from our experiences – those present, past, and future. (We’ll discuss the latter next week.) And sometimes, they’ll even look like His. Or be His. Those will be Real Lovely.
There are unique, surprising discoveries for each of us to make, too. Some of them will override our education, experience and skill. Some will give us pause, causing us to take a second look. And a third. Others will be envisioned through lenses scratched, polished, and new. And the expressions that follow—whether written, or spoken, or lived—are all real, even when they’re not lovely.
Some might argue they are all lovely, even when they are no(where) near classically beautiful. Because the rampant discoverers roaming around this place imagine, see, and perceive things now(here), everywhere, that we sometimes miss.
Like Excellence dancing on the spontaneous worship of a congregation willing to see Him now(here). (Personally, I’d rather see him dancing than displayed, pinned and wriggling, on a wall…wouldn’t you?)
If you missed Him the first time, look again.
Next week: Writing the future
Greater Chicago Arts: a vision revealing itself
Two weeks ago, seven leaders from our arts community (John Fancher, Laura Husmann, Josh Russell, Jayme McGhan, Melanie Pennington, Erica Henry and I) spent an incredible weekend together to begin to cast vision for Greater Chicago Arts.
Surely, the seven of us recognize and identify ourselves as part of a greater whole (pardon the pun, please). We are representing, to the best of our ability, a greater arts/creative community that includes those of you who have been being and doing your art for years now, both inside and outside our four walls on Jackson.
We also represent those of you whom we are just beginning to know, or those of you for whom creativity is stirring on new levels. Every week, I find myself taking note of new faces, or hearing fresh stories about new people “I will love” once I meet them. It’s amazing to look out over the congregation on any given Sunday and have one of those “love at first-sight” feelings. That is, I see someone and just know they are one of us. This is going to be an amazing year, folks.
But I digress, so back to the matter at hand: debriefing you on the Arts retreat.
We spent time praying, worshipping, soaking, singing, laughing, dreaming, encouraging, being honest, open and real with one another. We drank a lot of coffee. There was a fire (both literal and figurative), around which we all gathered, as well as a freedom of expression and acceptance that I have never experienced so strongly. We left our time together on Saturday closer, more envisioned, and with a lot of homework.
Together we tackled questions such as:
• Who is Greater Chicago Arts? What do we value?
• What call are we responding to? What promises? What dreams?
• Where are going? How are we getting there?
• Who else is coming along?
• What will success look like this year? Three years from now?
Needless to say, we covered a lot of ground, and have more ground yet to cover. We will continue the dialogue a bit more before we present a formal vision statement under which we can all align. A goal for this first quarter is to fully flesh out our vision, so you’ll be hearing much more on this as it continues to be revealed.
We did pen our values, pinned and wriggling (thank you Mr. Eliot), on the white board. I say pinned, because we threw out many ideas, in various modes of expression, in a variety of flavors, and still found ourselves stuck on the same main themes. It was amazing to me that a group so diverse, from a variety of disciplines and with sometimes radically different approaches and opinions, always ended up in the same camp, around the same fire.
Our talented facilitator, Jamie Cleghorn, was invaluable to the process. He spent an entire morning just listening to our hearts and transcribing what he heard so that we were free to dream, provoke, plan, and play, as unencumbered as possible. He made coffee, tea, a bagel run, and gave us a literal space to dream downtown. We had a view of Lake Michigan, walls made of whiteboard, and ceilings made of gold.
When I arrived, in fact, a tour bus had just unloaded fifty souls who were standing still as stone statues in the lobby, each with necks craned completely back, staring up at the golden domes. Their faces heavenward, each expressed a look of utter awe and amazement that seemed the perfect metaphor for our weekend Arts session. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing; neither could we at the end of the day.
I write wriggling because these are values that are alive and kicking, not dead, and will continue to evolve as we do. We will embody them all, growing into some more quickly, seeing others expressed more fully over time. One thing is certain: we will never outgrow them. We may outgrow spaces, places, buildings, and even genres, but we will never outgrow the call that is on our lives as an arts community, as creatives destined to reflect and reveal Him and His goodness from now through eternity.
When it is expressed in its fullness later this quarter, our vision will fall squarely in alignment under the vision of this House, Greater Chicago Church, because we are one. We are one church, one community with one cultural imprint, so to speak (power, presence, freedom, etc.). With many, many individuals, flavors, artistic disciplines, gifts and callings we worship and celebrate One who is worthy of all our efforts and devotion.
We present our values to you here, along with my personal gratitude and affection expressed to our vision-casting team (some of my dearest friends and contenders), as well as our broader Arts leadership and artists come and coming.
Faithfully yours,
Heather, with John, Laura, Josh, Jayme, Erica and Melanie
Wherever you go, there you are.
Where. It’s the question of the hour.
Despite being on vacation this week, I, too, am prayerfully and playfully contemplating the place, the space, the WHERE TO next. The possibilities seem infinite.
Are we being given permission to choose our own little postage stamp in this great city and its hinterlands? Or, are we being commissioned to a chosen spot so specific as to have a number, street address, complete with cross street and geographical coordinates (latitude and longitude, of course) included in the assignment? (Think Angelina Jolie’s tattoos with the exact numeric locations of her children’s birth countries…ok, I digress.)
What WILL show up on people’s hearts, slips of paper, and in e-mails this week?
You tell me. You’re probably fasting, praying nonstop and hearing very, very clearly.
Regardless, I wager no one is more excited—and intrigued—than me. As someone who has lived abroad, down south, along the eastern seaboard and the midwest (and all before the age of thirty), I am more than willing to dream unceasingly of new adventures in novel zip codes.
In fact, I was doing just that as I was running along the shores of the Atlantic this morning.
With the sound of waves and wind at my back, as well as the gulls singing their morning songs overhead, it was all too easy to free my mind from the day’s plans, musings, and, of course, the question that is on everyone’s mind this week.
In light of my surroundings, I opted to make my morning prayer less functional and more spontaneous, lifting my eyes to the horizon before me. My gaze was met with vastness–deep blue water merging into the sky’s infinite expanse. It was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. In that moment, I could’ve been looking out across Lake Michigan, eastward, with the Loop to my back and the sound of LSD’s symphonic traffic melodies ringing in my ears.
But I am here. Not there.
“Ok,” I thought, “my only question this morning is not WHERE, but WHAT. What is onyour heart today, Father?”
Almost immediately, I heard a loud, piercing shout echoing from the dunes. I stopped dead in my tracks as waves filled my running shoes and the sand beneath me swept quickly downward with the ocean’s pull. I seemed to sink five feet, waterlogged in the moment at hand.
And then I heard it again. A bit louder.
“GO CUBS!!!!!”
Seriously? Did I really hear this in Duck, North Carolina, along the shores of a sleepy, deserted beachfront shortly after sunrise?
Suddenly, there it was again, louder than both times before, and crystal clear.
“GO CHICAGO!!!!!”
I turned toward the direction of the voice, and made out the outline of a young man, seemingly miles away, waving wildly and cheering our great city. I must have looked perplexed, because he began gesturing excitedly towards his chest with both hands.
And then it hit me.
He had somehow made out the faded “C” scrawled across the front of my ancient graphic tee. A Cubs logo, it bears one letter and a faded bear cub emerging from the center of the design. Honestly, I can’t imagine how he could determine what it is from so far away. Or, possibly, the better question being what would compel him to wake the entire pier with his bellows (too much coffee, perhaps?), calling out to a stranger in the midst of a morning run to celebrate our beloved city?
“Are you from Chicago? I yelled back, hoping the wind, which had picked up considerably, would carry my voice up to him.
“NO! I just LOVE HER!” he replied with an animated shrug.
He appeared to offer additional commentary, none of which I could fully make out due to the distance between us. I heard something about Philadelphia—perhaps his hometown. What I could make out, as clearly as the morning light, was his face—it was literally beaming with excitement and delight. He continued to jabber on a bit about Chicago, and then the Cubs, his hands and head bobbing in tandem. I waited until his lips stopped moving to cease my own complimentary nodding and blinking. His gestures demanded acknowledgment, and it was all I could do to refrain from leaping towards him.
Not sure what to do next, I yelled back something to the effect of, “Yeah, Chicago’s pretty awesome, isn’t she?”
And with that, he raised both fists in the air in triumphant agreement.
I did the same, compelled by some strange unction to rally with this complete and total stranger, extolling the virtues of a city whose name is written on my heart (literally, this morning, on my workout gear.) No matter how far I travel, I will never fully leave her. Or perhaps it’s the other way around. Wherever I go, there she is.
To know her better is to love her more, to spend time with her is to find myself carried away, captive to her charms that are second to none. On this beach, I am dreaming of hers.
I love her history, her landscape (both human and geographic), her shorelines, her skyline, her authors (those exiled and present)…but all this is for another entry, at another time.
From the southern shores of North Carolina’s Outer Banks, I can report that love for Chicago is alive and well, bellowing its eternal devotion from the beaches at morning’s first light.
Her destiny seems inextricably linked with mine. What about yours?
…seek the peace of the city where I have caused you to be carried away captive, and pray to the LORD for it; for in its peace you will have peace… Jeremiah 29:7
Greater Chicago Art: The year ahead
Every act of creation is first of all an act of destruction. I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it. I do not just seek. I find.
Pablo Picasso
It’s the beginning. Again. September marks the kick-off of our new fiscal year, a time of expansion for us as an Arts ministry/movement of Greater Chicago Church. We have dreams (some ancient, some future), goals, promises and plans to realize. To render visible. There is joy set out before us. And lots of work. (A few of us will be participating in a three year vision-casting weekend at the end of this month, for starters.)
As I sit down to express where we are, where I am, in terms of the year(s) ahead for Arts, I recall a story I read somewhere about Pablo Picasso. The way I remember it, he showed his friends a Cubist portrait he had completed of Gertrude Stein. Here he was, pioneering an artistic form that would revolutionize European painting and sculpture, affecting music and literature, making himself vulnerable by giving his friends a first look.
When he unveiled it, they were underwhelmed, to say the least. Confused, they told him it simply did not resemble the woman they knew and loved. His response?
“That’s okay. It will.”
Yet when he presented it to Gertrude, her reaction was markedly different.
“He has seen ALL of me,” she remarked, “inside and outside.”
This year, let’s aim for ALL of Him. Let’s do some risky stuff, making our acts of worship both destructive and creative. Let’s wage war against fear, timidity, sameness, safety and the static reliability of the known. Let’s embrace mystery and certainty. Let’s dive head first into the provocations of truth and beauty and belief. Some may say, “that doesn’t look like Him…” but it’s His opinion that counts. Besides, maybe they just don’t know Him like you do.
Let’s do that which we cannot do, in order to learn how to do it.
Let’s walk on some water. And over some. And dive deep into some.
If we come to a Kidron, let’s heed Fancher’s words from Pentecost and step over it more fully into our identity (without so much as a second thought.) If He leads us to a river that’s rushing too fast, too high, or is way over our heads, let’s just trust Him. Force the matter and move closer to Him. If He doesn’t part the waters, well…dive in and swim deep. We have each other’s backs. And He has ours.
Speaking of swimming deep, let’s continue to get to know the One we love more intimately, inside and outside, as our first priority. Let’s spend more time WITH Him – listening, seeing, hearing, and letting Him express His heart.
Let’s care less about how “it” looks and where “it” fits and what we do with “it” and more about who He IS. Period. Lets BE with him, and let our doing flow out of that.
Here is our charge for this coming year:
Be closer. Let’s press in closer to Him – cozy up with scripture, prayer, worship and even rest. Delight in His presence. Let’s destroy any and all barriers that hold Him (and each other) at bay. Let’s experience, seek, and find more of Him, inside and outside, and communicate what we see, hear, and know as a result. As Dan McCollum shared with us this summer, what if we:
…think of ourselves as architects. Artists = self expression. Architect = designing something that will impact the future. What if we saw our art as a tool to impact culture, to transform culture, to affect mindsets, to release creativity, to present future…not past or even present.
Be community. Let’s have fun. Let’s do stuff together, with friends old and new. Bend his ear on behalf of each other, PRAY EARNESTLY for Arts, me, GCC leadership. Let’s destroy that which would seek to divide us, strengthening our bonds with each other. Let’s grow our ranks, enlarge our tent, and see an upswell of creativity in our House that leaves no area unaffected: visual atmosphere, teaching, music, PADS, intercession, Kids Church, Young Sprouts, Youth, government, Oak Park, Chicago, the world.
Be curators. I worked with an incredibly talented museum curator for a number of years. He was amazing – his passion, intellect, gifting as an artist himself – he was truly the heart of our office. He was, without a doubt, the one who knew the most about every piece of art (and artist) we exhibited in the museum. If he didn’t know or understand something, he pursued the truth with zeal like no one I’ve seen. When he discovered someone new, an artist or their expression, his excitement was infectious.
As artists and leaders, we are called to be architects and curators, alike. Violently and earnestly pursuing the Truth, the Father, the Spirit, the Word…well you get it. Taking what we know of Him, which deepens every day, collecting and communicating it in a way that is infectious, representational, transformative.
Let’s challenge ourselves to reach new levels of skill, ingenuity, and excellence this year because HE IS WORTH IT. As Greater Chicago Church, we’ve moved beyond the previous iteration of ourselves, stepping into something new. Clearing the way to express ourselves, the Church, in a never-before-seen fashion, Laura Husmann has given us a visual identity that raises a standard, challenging us to contend for greater things. I love our visual identity and branding, unveiled on Pentecost Sunday, 2010. If you weren’t there, did you get a chance to read the brand statement on the website? Here’s an excerpt:
The symbol itself is strongly directional, with heaven-to-earth perspective, focus and motion. It incorporates the idea of radiation, that the Kingdom is not to be contained or kept static, but exploding, radiating, breaking out and through. It implies our identity as a catalyst to revival in the region.
Yup. That sounds like us.
SPOILER ALERT: The grand finale is a no-brainer…
Be creative. Creativity is a person, you know. A BEing. (Come to Creativity 101 at SETand enter the dialogue.) We’ll be making space for Him in a variety of ways, including painting, writing, dance, atmosphere, blogging, filmmaking, theatre, poetry…you name it.
Throughout the year we’ll be partnering with the ministries of this House, while engaging and expressing Him beyond these four walls. We’ll go on the street with Bam-Bam, take center stage at Concordia, partner with Worship, Intercession, Kids, and challenge our newly formed Atmosphere Team to render the (in)visible more visible. (They’ll know what that means…)
Revelation 4 describes a throne room scene in Heaven that I like to think of as the ultimate studio experience. Four living creatures covered with eyes, front and back, encircle the throne day and night crying, “Holy, Holy, Holy.” This is their destiny, to take in the holiness, truth and beauty of “the Lord God Almighty who was and is and who is to come.”
For all eternity, they will perceive Him from every angle, in every light, in every situation, never running out of fresh perspective or revolutionary insights. With each new revelation, every expression of His heart and loveliness, they are compelled to worship in a way that, in turn, compels the hosts of Heaven to follow suit.
These four beings enjoy an access we covet – a posture and perspective and capability with all those eyes – to see Him, inside and outside. And he’s way deeper than Gertrude Stein. They were created with the sole purpose of taking Him in, it seems, to appreciate, communicate, enjoy and give glory, honor and power to His ALL. Their outcry, a unique expression of all that they see, inspires the twenty-four elders who are also present to throw down their crowns and praise THE CREATOR who has “CREATED all things to have their BEING.”
They are incapable of exhausting His limitless loveliness, goodness and awesomeness despite their endless seeking and infinite finding. So remind me why we should worry about creative blocks? (If you struggle with the latter, check out “Silencing the Critic” at SET this year.)
Let’s give it all away, while seeking more. Paint, write, teach, preach, sing, draw, dance, photograph, declare, create spreadsheets and songsheets, counsel couples, corporations and nations. And do it all to render Him more visible, more present, more real.
Art does not reproduce the visible. It renders it visible.
Paul Klee
Yours,
Heather
