from a tangle of thoughts,
writing yields order and focus
from a misshapen lump of clay,
sculpting yields shape and form
from a rigid block of wood or mass of stone,
carving yields movement and realization
from soundless air,
song yields resounding emotion
from a bland canvas,
painting yields enlivened color
from dust and ashes,
The Creator yielded life.
we are like our Father. we must create. art in all forms is amazing to me because it makes concrete those things of the Spirit. it is a projection of the things unseen, yet shared throughout humanity.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Saturday, July 5, 2014
fissures
At what point do our hearts break for the world?
Is it in an instant?
Is it a buildup?
Is this question like asking at what point grains of sand become a mound?
Does it happen after watching too many violent news reels?
Could it be the weight of the words from the radio bearing down and creating more and more fissures in the fortification surrounding our fragile hearts?
Is it all of these things at once?
My heart seems to have a habit of breaking and mending.
It is tender, but it is resilient.
It is interwoven with the threads of the life-giving Holy Spirit.
I listen to the news, and it hurts.
I listen to the news, and sometimes I cry.
I listen to the news, and sometimes I despair.
I listen to the news, but it always leads me to pray.
I cry out to my God for this world because there is no fixing it without my God.
I listen to the news because even though it hurts, I would rather be aware than be numb.
I would rather ache than be filled with bubble-gum happiness.
I would rather experience heartbreak over the conditions of the world and know that my joy and hope are not confined by those conditions.
I pray to my God; God is the source of my hope for a new day, a brighter future, peace, and love.
I know that prayer is more powerful than I may feel it to be. So, I do what I can, and I pray.
So as for "the news,"
I have to know. I have to be aware.
I am interlocked with those who are hurt and those doing the hurting.
Our flesh is the same substance, and our souls are the same mystery.
The same God hears all our suffering, and the same God cares.
Is it in an instant?
Is it a buildup?
Is this question like asking at what point grains of sand become a mound?
Does it happen after watching too many violent news reels?
Could it be the weight of the words from the radio bearing down and creating more and more fissures in the fortification surrounding our fragile hearts?
Is it all of these things at once?
My heart seems to have a habit of breaking and mending.
It is tender, but it is resilient.
It is interwoven with the threads of the life-giving Holy Spirit.
I listen to the news, and it hurts.
I listen to the news, and sometimes I cry.
I listen to the news, and sometimes I despair.
I listen to the news, but it always leads me to pray.
I cry out to my God for this world because there is no fixing it without my God.
I listen to the news because even though it hurts, I would rather be aware than be numb.
I would rather ache than be filled with bubble-gum happiness.
I would rather experience heartbreak over the conditions of the world and know that my joy and hope are not confined by those conditions.
I pray to my God; God is the source of my hope for a new day, a brighter future, peace, and love.
I know that prayer is more powerful than I may feel it to be. So, I do what I can, and I pray.
So as for "the news,"
I have to know. I have to be aware.
I am interlocked with those who are hurt and those doing the hurting.
Our flesh is the same substance, and our souls are the same mystery.
The same God hears all our suffering, and the same God cares.
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