My parents are here visiting, and I am reminded how much I really like them. How much fun we have just laughing...old jokes, new puns, sweet times. I know most people think I am much like my mother. I see so many ways in which we are quite different. and yet...the things we share are remarkable. intimate. worthy.
I love having them here. (sweet sigh)
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
First Showing
I got to see a wondrous sight today - my daughter's art hanging in a gallery. Wow.
As I wandered about, looking here and there, I must admit to being cautious. You never know what you will see in an art gallery: nude paintings that are graphic, lewd poses, twisted sculptures that reveal too many illicit medications, or just plain bad art. Sometimes I get surprised with something sweet, poignant, or just plain funny. Lately, though, not so much. It seems that the minds of so many have become so jaded and worn, they can only find things to criticize or debauch, instead of things to motivate and entrance. Today was no exception.
This was an art gallery at the college she attends. Much of the art was from students that had been in classes for several semesters. Frankly, just to be allowed to display there was an honor. When she applied (strongly encouraged by her teacher) we were totally thrilled. She is, after all, only in her second semester of photography class. We love her photography. She has a way of making something simple leap out of the photo and grab your heart. This was something simple: hands. Her grandmother's hands. Yet the message they offered was deep. There is such beauty revealed in these simple black and white photographs, it causes you to pause and wonder: what story are my hands telling? You'll have to decide for yourself what the story is when you see them - that's the beauty of art. You can participate. Which is why I am so leery when entering a gallery - I may not wish to participate in what is being offered. I am after all supposed to be sanctified, am I not? Anyway, to be encouraged to apply was amazing. To be chosen to be shown, and have a chance at an award: breathtaking.
So here I was, wandering around, secretly trying to see if anyone saw what I did hanging on the wall behind the reception desk. MY daughter's artwork. Next to what some might think was similar work, but it lacked the depth, precision, and story that hers offered. No competition. And while I didn't find that hers had won an award, I was no less touched and awed by the fact that it hung there. Her first showing. Splendid, I might add. As I walked away, I wondered how such art is rated. If by the heart, then hers had first place.
As I wandered about, looking here and there, I must admit to being cautious. You never know what you will see in an art gallery: nude paintings that are graphic, lewd poses, twisted sculptures that reveal too many illicit medications, or just plain bad art. Sometimes I get surprised with something sweet, poignant, or just plain funny. Lately, though, not so much. It seems that the minds of so many have become so jaded and worn, they can only find things to criticize or debauch, instead of things to motivate and entrance. Today was no exception.
This was an art gallery at the college she attends. Much of the art was from students that had been in classes for several semesters. Frankly, just to be allowed to display there was an honor. When she applied (strongly encouraged by her teacher) we were totally thrilled. She is, after all, only in her second semester of photography class. We love her photography. She has a way of making something simple leap out of the photo and grab your heart. This was something simple: hands. Her grandmother's hands. Yet the message they offered was deep. There is such beauty revealed in these simple black and white photographs, it causes you to pause and wonder: what story are my hands telling? You'll have to decide for yourself what the story is when you see them - that's the beauty of art. You can participate. Which is why I am so leery when entering a gallery - I may not wish to participate in what is being offered. I am after all supposed to be sanctified, am I not? Anyway, to be encouraged to apply was amazing. To be chosen to be shown, and have a chance at an award: breathtaking.
So here I was, wandering around, secretly trying to see if anyone saw what I did hanging on the wall behind the reception desk. MY daughter's artwork. Next to what some might think was similar work, but it lacked the depth, precision, and story that hers offered. No competition. And while I didn't find that hers had won an award, I was no less touched and awed by the fact that it hung there. Her first showing. Splendid, I might add. As I walked away, I wondered how such art is rated. If by the heart, then hers had first place.
Monday, May 18, 2009
In HIS light
He was a burning and shining lamp, and you were willing to rejoice for a while in his light. John 5:35
I was thinking about how we can be so content to shine in the light of another - a good sermon, good worship, praying with another. These are all good things, but not the needful thing. The needful thing is to spend such sweet time in the presence of Jesus ourselves, that WE shine. Truly, it is Jesus who shines in us - yet when we spend time with Him in prayer, in the Word, in meditation of His Word, we get to shine. We get to be the light, the vessel that overflows with joy and the Spirit.
I don't want to be content to rejoice in another's light, but to BE light myself.
I was thinking about how we can be so content to shine in the light of another - a good sermon, good worship, praying with another. These are all good things, but not the needful thing. The needful thing is to spend such sweet time in the presence of Jesus ourselves, that WE shine. Truly, it is Jesus who shines in us - yet when we spend time with Him in prayer, in the Word, in meditation of His Word, we get to shine. We get to be the light, the vessel that overflows with joy and the Spirit.
I don't want to be content to rejoice in another's light, but to BE light myself.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Distracted Disciple
Watch this, then we'll talk:
Retreat is in 2 weeks. I told someone that I didn't think I could wait that long for a touch from Jesus. I got to praying, and thinking about what I'm holding back, what I'm keeping in reserve, how I got to be in this place. I figured out that it doesn't really matter. What matters is what I'm going to do about it.
Repent.
How about you? How's the flame inside you for Jesus? A spark, and ember, or a full-on bonfire? Are you living your life as if Jesus is returning TODAY? Or are you putting off until tomorrow what you should have accomplished last week?
Well, it's time obedience and praise were the first things on my list. Not to mention more time in fellowship with the One who owns me body, soul and spirit. Remembering that I have been bought with a price, redeemed. Ransomed. Raised from the dead to new life.
Now, to live it! Fervent Love in action.
Retreat is in 2 weeks. I told someone that I didn't think I could wait that long for a touch from Jesus. I got to praying, and thinking about what I'm holding back, what I'm keeping in reserve, how I got to be in this place. I figured out that it doesn't really matter. What matters is what I'm going to do about it.
Repent.
How about you? How's the flame inside you for Jesus? A spark, and ember, or a full-on bonfire? Are you living your life as if Jesus is returning TODAY? Or are you putting off until tomorrow what you should have accomplished last week?
Well, it's time obedience and praise were the first things on my list. Not to mention more time in fellowship with the One who owns me body, soul and spirit. Remembering that I have been bought with a price, redeemed. Ransomed. Raised from the dead to new life.
Now, to live it! Fervent Love in action.
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