writing

Today’s Word: Fallow

Steve · June 22, 2014 · 13 Comments

Yesterday I shared with my spiritual direction peer supervision group that the last month or so I have experienced a lack of energy to do the things I really want to do. Following a period of intense prayer and productivity (I just finished a nine-month Ignatian 19^th annotation retreat and a graduate program in spiritual direction) I was experiencing difficulty and dryness in both prayer and writing.

At that point, one of my wise colleagues pointed out the need to “remain fallow” once in a while, to step back from even the best of things in order to replenish ourselves. When I looked up the definition of fallow, I was amazed at how well it matched my own situation:

Fallow: Plowed and harrowed but left unsown for a period in order to restore its fertility as part of a crop rotation or to avoid surplus production.

The truth is, I all too often equate my spiritual health with what I am “doing.” How many blog posts? How many pages in my journal? How’s that book project coming along? The planning for next fall’s retreat? These are all important things that need to get done, but they need to flow from my “down time” with God. They are the result of silence and prayer, not the source.

What I’ve come to realize is that it’s okay to not be productive for a while (and that’s a tough one for me). It’s okay to simply sit “fallow” with God in prayer, without agenda or even words, knowing that God is plowing and harrowing me, leaving me unsown in order to restore my fruitfulness at the time only God controls. God’s work, God’s time.

Ask yourself in silence: Do I need to make some time to just “be” with God?

Today’s Word: Poetic

Steve · October 16, 2013 · 1 Comment

station — Looking Jesus in the Eye. SJG photo.

“The Church must be a poetic community,” theologian Walter Brueggemann once wrote, meaning — in my mind anyway — that if we are going to reach the people around us with the Gospel, we’re going to have to move beyond the standard rhetoric and capture their imaginations through our creativity, poetry, music, and art. We must be able to offer more them more than dogma and argument. We must be able to show and tell them who Jesus is in new and creative ways, following the lead of Jesus himself, who taught most effectively not with shouts of indignation but rather with simple parables and gentle acts of hospitality and healing. Jesus taught by feeding people and by looking them in the eye when he spoke. In the Beatitudes, he reached them by giving them a beautifully poetic list of ways they could live more blessed lives. Like a good rabbi, Jesus taught using the power of story.

Jesus can be hard to see and find in our busy, self-centered world. So it’s the job of the Church — that’s us — to prayerfully, gently and clearly bring him into the light of day in the midst of darkness. By telling his story in new ways and by relating the stories of our own lives and the movement of God in them, we stand as poetic, creative witnesses to the life of Christ, professing a loving, forgiving God who is Immanuel, who is “God with us,” who is the Incarnate, living, creative and creating Word.

Ask yourself in silence: How can I tell the story of Jesus in a fresh, creative, artistic way? How can I make Jesus and his good news understandable and attractive to someone who desperately needs to hear the story?

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?

A call for guest bloggers: Writing as a true spiritual discipline

Steve · May 11, 2013 · 3 Comments

“When I see your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and stars that you set in place...SJG photo.

“Writing,” Henri Nouwen wrote, “can be a true spiritual discipline. Writing can help us to concentrate, to get in touch with the deeper stirrings of our hearts, to clarify our minds, to process confusing emotions, to reflect on our experiences, to give artistic expression to what we are living, and to store significant events in our memories. Writing can also be good for others who might read what we write.”

So…I’m embarrassed to see that I’ve not posted anything here since December 29. Ach! I have no real excuses, other than a busy work schedule, a couple of graduate classes (I’m completing a graduate certificate in Spiritual Direction at Aquinas Institute of Theology here in St. Louis…) and, oh yeah, I’m about to become a grandpa for the first time! (Although, admittedly, I had very little to do with that last one and I can’t blame him or her for my blog-crastination. Watch for a photo soon!

I’m planning a regular (hopefully weekly) summer series of short blogs, the theme of which I’m still considering and mulling over. In the meantime, I thought I’d give some of you a chance to share your writing on this site. (And I know from hearing from some of you that there are some very good writers out there among my subscribers).
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Holy as a Day is Spent: Our Awareness of the Sacred Around Us

Steve · July 1, 2012 · 5 Comments

flower — The fecundity of life, by Steve Givens

I got out this morning for a walk in the woods near my house before I found myself in the midst of yet another scorching, humid St. Louis summer day. The temperature peaked at 108 the last few days, and more of the same is promised for today.

I was accompanied on my walk this morning by the music of singer-songwriter-teacher-activist Carrie Newcomer, with whom I have had the pleasure to work and learn a few times. As I entered the canopy of the woods, I was greeted in my ear buds with Carrie’s beautiful hymn to the sacred all around us, “Holy as a Day is Spent,” a song that never ceases to make me stop and consider where I am and how I’m taking up space on the earth at the moment. More than anything else, though, the song asks us to see the sacred in the ordinary, beautiful things of daily life. Near the end of the song, Carrie sings:

Holy is the place I stand
To give whatever small good I can
The empty page, the open book
Redemption everywhere I look

Unknowingly we slow our pace
In the shade of unexpected grace
With grateful smiles and sad lament
As holy as a day is spent.