purpose

Today’s Word: Creative

Steve · October 13, 2013 · 2 Comments

jenny — My daughter, Jenny, creating some music with friends Phil Cooper, left, and Gerry Kasper. SJG photo.

When we create art — at whatever level of expertise and of whatever kind — we reflect the work of the Creator, the One who put that creative spark in our gut. I have friends who create music, paintings, photography, quilts, poetry, plays, novels and many other types of work that would just remain ideas if not for the effort and commitment they put into their art and the inspiration that comes from somewhere deep within them. For the creative arts may be “inspired,” but if the idea never comes to life and no one experiences it, then what good is it? It’s like walking through an art museum or gallery and thinking, “I could have done that!” Well maybe so, but you didn’t. Someone else had the idea and took the leap.

love — "All You Need is Love," acrylic and paper on canvas by Steve Givens.

The creative arts, at least for many of us who profess a Creator God, are acts of faith. When we dare to create, when we “step out the boat,” we move from safety and comfort into an area of uncertainty, for when we begin to create we don’t always know where we are going to end up. The poem begins with a single word or line. The song with a note. The painting with a sketch or with putting brush to canvas. So it’s easy enough to talk ourselves out of creating because we think we’re not talented or creative enough. But our call as artists and people of faith is not to artistic perfection but to genuine and authentic response to the call. We are called to find some glimmer of truth and beauty in the world around us — to capture the movement and color of God — and respond, to reflect that back to those around us. Not everyone finds God in the same way. As artists and creative people, our vocation is to gently lead those who view or read or hear our art to look a little closer at the world around them and see for themselves that something beautiful, loving and eternal is waiting their notice.

Ask yourself in silence: What could I create today? How can I turn a creative gesture into both prayer for myself and a guidepost to God for others?

Today’s Word: Migratory

Steve · October 12, 2013 · 2 Comments

riverlands — Just passing through. Riverlands Bird Sanctuary, West Alton, Mo. SJG photo.

One of the things I like best about autumn and winter in the Midwest is watching the migratory birds that pass through on their way to Mexico and Central and South America. Here in St. Louis, near the confluence of the Mississippi, Missouri and Illinois rivers, clouds of birds fill the sky on any given day, moving, weaving and blending together like vast schools of fish. Even as scientists and naturalists study and better understand these migratory patterns and flyways, what they really can’t fully comprehend is this: What exactly pulls these birds to fly these long routes, which remain virtually the same over years and generations of birds? What is it within them that pulls them like a magnet to their winter homes and then back to their summer habitats? It’s a mystery, but that doesn’t make it any less real.

And what is it that over and over pulls us toward this thing — this power, this presence — that we call God? No matter how much we love this life and the world around us, this pull is a gentle yet powerful reminder that we are more than what makes us human. We are migratory, souls passing through our bodies on our way to somewhere else. Like birds flying the long trip for the first time, we cannot even imagine what it is we are traveling toward, but we continue to fly, drawn by a force we can only sense as being there, as being love. It’s a mystery, but that doesn’t make it any less real.

Ask yourself in silence: In these moments of silence, can I sense the pull of God? Am I willing to lean into this pull and follow?

Today’s Word: Consider

Steve · October 8, 2013 · 1 Comment

lily — Consider the lilies of the field. SJG photo.

In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus encourages us to “consider the lilies of the field” as a model for our lives. They don’t worry much about their lives, and neither should we, we are told. But let’s consider these lilies a little more. Consider these things: The lily does not choose where it stands in the field, or which weeds and thorns grow up around it. It cannot control the weather or how much sunlight it receives. In short, it cannot change the things it cannot change, like what kind of lily it is or what color. What it can do is stand and endure. It can “bloom where it is planted” and become the lily it was meant to become. It cannot become a tulip or an oak tree. The lily is beautiful on its own, as are we all in the sight of God.

In a recent Ignatian prayer exercise, I was asked to consider these lilies and, in doing so, to consider “how much of me is mine and how much is God’s.” It’s not an easy question, for some things seem to come from neither God nor me. Unless I abuse or don’t take care of my body, I don’t really “choose” health or illness, and neither does God choose for us illness or violence against us. Nevertheless, the choices we make, the will of God, and the things that just “happen” to us as humans in an imperfect world intermingle to become what we think of as our “lives.”

What we are called to do in the midst of all this imperfection is the punch line of this particular parable: “Seek God first and the rest will fall into place.” Like the lily, we cannot change where and how we were raised or how well we were nurtured. To a great extent we cannot control our health, although we are certainly called to care for ourselves and respect our bodies and what we put into them or do with them. Our greatest desire – wherever we are in life – should be responding to the will of the gardener and master planter, the sower of the seed.

Ask yourself in silence: What are the things I most worry about? Do I worry about things I cannot change? How often do I seek God first?

Today’s Word: Clay

Steve · September 16, 2013 · 4 Comments

pot — Like a river through the soft earth. SJG photo

The thing about potters and their clay is that it’s all about relationship. A little pinch here and a fledgling pot becomes something entirely different. A little more pressure or a repositioning of the potter’s hands on the ever-spinning vessel and the clay takes on a new shape. Hold a knife to the still-soft creation and spirals cut into the body like a river through the soft earth. Relationship. No pot without the potter, no need for the potter without the pot.

And so as we circle around to begin each day anew, we must ask ourselves: are we open to the touch of the potter? Do we allow ourselves to be shaped — manipulated — by the One who made us and is continuing to make us? Are we willing to surrender our self-conceived idea of purpose and “shape” to the will of the master artisan who knows us better than we know ourselves? Are we willing to say, “yes, I thought I was going to be this…but perhaps I am being changed and I am become something else?”

Ask yourself in silence: All the questions above!

Congratulations to my friend and loyal reader Kathleen Matson of Massachusetts, who has just launched her own blog of daily reflections! Check out her site, Heavenly Light.

Today’s Word: Pilgrim

Steve · September 14, 2013 · 1 Comment

rock1 — Life isn't a destination. SJG photo

To be on a journey as a pilgrim — whether real or metaphorical, whether alone or with others — is to walk with the certainty that we are walking a road that many others have travelled before us. And so we are never alone, guided as we are by this communion of saints and common souls— this ragamuffin band — and led by the footprints, signs and traces of all who have come before us.

The wisdom we seek on this journey, while perhaps contained in the writings and experiences of these prior pilgrims, can really only be found by walking the journey and allowing the knowledge to seep into our deepest being. And there we begin to make some sense of the trip, with all its twists and turns, dead ends, false avenues and strange forks in the road. Wisdom lies in our lived and contemplated experiences of our own unique journeys. Wisdom comes in reflection, in the integration of the multitude of our sacred moments with all that we have read and heard. For faith comes through listening, through hearing the sacred word of God in scripture and in the stories of those who walk with us and before us.

A stone in the labyrinth, Mercy Center, St. Louis. SJG photo (click to view larger)

Ask yourself in silence: Am I paying attention to the journey I am on? Am I noticing the turns and watching for the signs that lead me to an abundance of life in God?