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I’ve been thinking through this whole, you know, creativity thing…a lot of thoughts.  I don’t think I’m going to try to keep this coherent…it’s just going to be a lot of verbal spitting.  I think that God makes some people creative, and others more creative.  I think the only ones of us who are not creative are those that don’t care to be.  I think that if/when you are the creative type you exude creativity on some level…you don’t have the option.  It comes out of you, even when you try to repress it in the mundane.  When a creative person finds themselves unable to be creative, for whatever internal or external reason, you will see them become frustrated, angry, depressed.  So I think there’s maybe three kinds of people, now that I think of it…those that aren’t really creative and don’t really care, those that are creative and struggle with expression, and those that are creative and express, whether they want to or not, whether they can make a living through expression or not, whether people ask them to or not, whether anyone ever cares or not.  The first group is ignorant to the blessing and the curse…and sometimes ignorance is truly bliss.  (I’m not using the word ignorant in a derogatory way here.)  The third group is what it is and doesn’t try to be anything but what it is.  There is hardship, certainly, but the mandate to express overpowers the roadblocks.  I believe I am in the second group, and I think this group has it the hardest.  This isn’t a pity party…I’m trying to think through this.  I am a creative person, but I think that sometimes my creativity is old news, is plain…I am viewing it as someone else might, through the eyes of a potential consumer of my creativity.  By consumer, I mean viewer, listener, beholder and/or purchaser.  I’m not creating because I must (as the third group does) but because I have the capability, enjoy doing so, and very much want to be known, even if just by myself, as a creative person.  Those in the third group are oftentimes conscious of the consumer, but would go on creating regardless of the consumer’s interest.  Those in the second group always have the consumer in mind, even when they very much wish to be free of the consumer’s perceived presence.  If I make music, will others like it?  Will it be something that someone else might be interested in?  If I make visual art the same questions pop into my head.  Sometimes I wish I could either not care if I was creative or not be able to control the urge.  The hindered, self-conscious, overly critical middle ground is a difficult place to call home.  So, I guess the big question is this…as I believe one who is creative can never ditch their creativity, can someone in the second group graduate into group one?  I don’t think writing the hit song, “making it”, and not having to work a traditional job necessarily means graduation in this case.  I mean can a person lose the self in the process and become overwhelmed by the art they have been called to produce?

Sometimes I think that I’m creative but just don’t have the time or resources to adequately express my creativity.  But then, upon having that thought, I wonder if, simply by virtue of me thinking that, it means I’m really not that creative after all.  I mean, most of the “creative” people I know have only been able to express their creativity through hard work, sacrifice, at all odds, without proper resources, and by simply grinning and bearing it…because they’re creativity would not settle for anything less than full expression.  Does being “creative” necessarily entail the need/desire/ to express said creativity?  Is the fact that I’m thinking this much about it mean that I’m way too analytical to be truly creative?  Ok…I need to stop…

Short post here on something that’s been bouncing around in my head since this weekend. I had a pretty low day Saturday…one thing led to another and I found myself in the toilet of negativity, calling to my savior, Eeyore. Sunday morning arrived and within a few minutes of being in church I was profoundly struck by the similarities between myself and the Jews of 33AD Jerusalem.

We all are, presumably, familiar with the events of Palm Sunday. Jesus arrived at the edge of the city, hopped on a donkey and entered the city to an outpouring of support and praise fit for a king. Days later, Good Friday…they killed Him. There was obviously a misunderstanding there…some disconnect in the Jews’ expectations of the King they wanted and the one they were getting. They wanted a King, like David of old, to put down their oppressors and establish Israel to its former glory. They got a King that had little interest in human hierarchy and structure until and unless it had a negative impact on the “least of these” or interfered with human hearts being set free from spiritual slavery.

So, where am I seeing myself in this? And what does this have to do with my negative turn this last Saturday? I, too, like the Jews, want a King to put down my oppressors (my debt, my house that refuses to finish the remodel I started on it, my frustrations with work, my normal marital challenges, my general sense of being overwhelmed and out of control) so that I can be free of it all and enjoy a victorious life. I want a King of my circumstances. But Jesus wants to be King of my heart in the midst of my circumstances. It doesn’t mean my circumstances are “good”, necessarily, but it means that my heart is infinitely more important to Jesus and He is perfectly ok operating within the circumstances to get to my heart. When my expectations of what Jesus wants don’t line up and my life isn’t getting any easier, because circumstances aren’t changing, I am bound for frustration and despair. The truth is…when I really get it…when He has my heart and I am satisfied with that, my circumstances lose their hold on me and I on them. I am satisfied in the midst of chaos. I have peace. Please, all of you, remind me of this! Often!

Hope is a magical thing. Similar to other elements of the Christian life, hope often runs counter to what makes sense, both from a cultural and an experiential perspective. Quickly list off in your mind or on paper the top 10 or more reasons why you don’t hope, or why you lose hope. It’s probably a very rational and defensible list. But look closely…see any commonalities? In my mental list I see things such as “What would cause the outcome to change now when none of the circumstances have?” “A+B has always equaled C for me in the past…why would they suddenly equal D now?” “These are just common problems we all have, why expect that I would be different or that now would be different?” My list is all based around what I’ve done, what I’ve had done to me, what I’ve seen others do. It’s a man-made list based entirely on man’s capability, and what hope is there in that?

The opposite of hope is submission, cynicism, bitterness…and sometimes even the lesser-known evil of rational pragmatism. It’s a submission that means defeat, that all is lost and the stronghold has been captured. A trust in man’s capabilities will ultimately lead me, time and again, to this point. Why keep fighting if there’s nothing to fight for, right? All assets, capabilities, supplies and resources have been expended and I am still being attacked. I have no other options at my disposal, except one. Hope. Hope rolls in like a storm…from a place and at a time not at all expected, or previously experienced, or culturally prevalent. Hope says fight. Hope says fight because not only has the stronghold not been taken, but it never can be and that all claims against it are fraudulent, merely designed to discourage and defeat me, and nothing more. Hope says that I am not alone against my adversary…I’m not alone in that others are fighting, and have fought against the same adversary, and that he is already defeated. Hope says that what currently doesn’t seem or feel real or true is actually more real than my all-to-often accepted “reality”. This is the life of the Christian, then…to fight on in the midst of darkness, when all seems lost and we are utterly abandoned by all that we’ve come to rely upon. Hope.

I found out this morning that I have a torn meniscus. Not a huge deal, really, and I’m sure I’ll be able to get it fixed pretty easily. After getting the call from the doctor with the results of the MRI, I took a look online at what a meniscus actually is and found this picture.  I can’t look at this without thinking of how amazing it is that a knee actually works…I mean, look at all of that?  And that’s just one joint…I have 229 others.  Fearful and wonderful…that’s how I got put together.