Goodbye, Elevator

Lent has arrived once more.  In past years I’ve given up chocolate, meat, and Facebook, and all of them have been challenging in their own way to say the least.  It made me realize that I don’t need chocolate, I hate Facebook, and I would never be a vegetarian.

However, I still consume excessive amounts of chocolate and check Facebook way too many times every day.   During the 40 days last year it was a relief for me to not have Facebook at all.  I didn’t waste my day away doing nothing and it gave me time to do important thing in my day—plus I wasn’t consumed with information about everyone else’s lives. 

This year I decided to do something a little different.  I didn’t give up something that I can consume, and I didn’t give up social networking or media or sweets. 

I gave up the elevator.  Well, elevators period. 

Goodbye, Elevator.

But “the elevator” mostly refers to the elevator in my dorm.  I live on the sixth floor, so six stories of stairs is a sufficient climb.  I figured if Jesus died on a cross for my sins I can easily climb six flights of stairs every time I leave the dorm or come back.

People view Lent in different ways.  Some people get rid of the things that distract them from their faith, while others give up things that are unhealthy for them in order to honor the body Jesus gave them.  I wouldn’t say the elevator distracts me from my faith and I guess it can be considered healthy to not use it, but I mostly gave it up to have a constant reminder of what Jesus did for me. 

I figured I can also use it as I time of prayer.  Taking the stairs takes longer than the elevator, so why not pray every time I’m climbing them?

It’s going to be good for me to get off my lazy bum and add a little more exercise to my life, and a little more one on one time with God.  Sometimes I get so busy running around I don’t take time to thank God for everything I have, or time to pray for my friends and family.

Overall, it’s going to be beneficial.  I’m a little worried I’ll end up going somewhere and having to climb to the 40^th story of some building, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.  And if it does happen, I’ll just be praying the whole time. 

If I like this enough, which I think I will, I might just make it a habit.

It would be a good one to keep.  

From Dust to Dust

“The years go by like stones under rushing water.  We only know when it’s gone.”

-NEEDTOBREATHE

“Weep not for me, for in Glory I wait for thee.”

-Anonymous

I took a God walk today.  I grabbed my Bible, threw on some comfy clothes and exited through the back of the dorm.  I had a feeling I knew where I was going, I’d been there once before (not very long, and totally a different story) so I wanted to go back again.

I’m not sure why I was instinctively driven there.  Maybe because I knew it would be quiet and because I knew I would be alone.  I knew that the wind would be my only companion, and God if I could somehow find him.

I know that it seems silly that I would have to go find God.  He’s omnipotent, but it feels like I’m actually setting aside time for him when I talk a walk and plan on meeting him somewhere, like I would meet a friend at a coffee shop on a summer day. 

Except today was no summer day, and I was sitting among graves. 

Cemeteries give many people the heebie-jeebies but I find that it’s a place where I can sit and think among a hundred people who already understand what happens after death.  I know what I’ve been taught, but I can’t help wondering about the validity of it.  All I know right now is that when I have God, I have peace.  When my emotions are raging he is what settles me and puts me back on track.

That’s why I went there.  So I could talk to God among a group of people who already know the truth.  It’s a strange way to be comforted, I know.

I picked my way through the gravestones and among the grass while listening to trees that sounded like a creaky porch swing as they blew in the wind.  A few loose leaves were tripping on the ground and rustling in the grass.  Birds were singing and the wind was brushing against my back, picking my hair up from its warm place against my neck and touching my face, cooling my nose. 

I could finally think.  And there were so many things to think about.  My Bible remained tucked under my arm as I continued to walk and take in my surroundings, breathing in the Seattle winter air.

I sang Be Thou My Vision quietly to myself and found a place to sit.  I opened my Bible to Psalm 23, one of my favorite Psalms when I was young and it remains so.  “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.”

He restores my soul.  Sometimes I need to take time to breathe and remember where my breath comes from.  He is the one that has the power to take it or leave it.  He is the one that has the power to truly love and heal me.  I continued to read through the Psalms, since they were the prayers that I couldn’t seem to find and put into my own words. 

I turned through Psalms mindlessly, occasionally watched at the wind flipped pages, not in the mood to stop it from doing so.  Then I read Psalm 90:3-6. 

You turn men back to dust,

saying, “Return to dust, O sons of men.”

For a thousands years in your sight

are like a day that has just gone by,

or like a watch in the night.

You sweep men away in the sleep of death;

they are like the new grass of the morning—

though in the morning it springs up new,

by evening it is dry and withered. 

That verse directly correlated with the song I had been listening to by NEEDTOBREATHE.  These days will soon be over, I will be gone before I know it.  I will be just one more among these graves.  Yet while I’m alive, I’m extremely blessed.  I’ve been given the power to love. 

It turns out the cemetery was exactly what I needed.

Time to think,

Reflect,

and let myself come full circle once again.  

So Much to Give

Written on Sept. 8, 2011

the moth: caught behind the glass of the fireplace,

its wings frantically fluttering,

panicked, knowing there is no way out.

and i watch, knowing i can’t help him.

he runs along the glass, flying up

then falling.

and he’ll most likely do that

until he can’t

anymore.

Written Today

Sometimes I’m that moth.

I do the same thing over and over and get nowhere.

Then today, I found a quiet place.

I settled down and read my Bible.

I wrote in my journal and prayed.

I left my phone in my room and got away.

When I came out 2 hours had passed.

God has so much to say,

So much to give.

He is ever pursuing me and today I gave him time.

It makes the biggest difference.

It results in happiness & energy.

It fills me with love,

And now I’m overflowing.

Now I can say bring it on.

This won’t be easy, it never is.

But if God is on my side

Who can ever be against me?

Search me, O God, and know my heart;

test me and know my anxious thoughts.

Psalm 139:23

Drawing Without Sight & Learning to See

During art last night we diligently practiced our “blind contour” skills. Contour drawing is only drawing the lines of an object, in as much detail as you can. Blind contour is doing this while you aren’t looking.

Ha, that’s a good one, I found myself thinking when my professor explained that activity. I don’t really understand this.

Apparently a lot of other people didn’t either, since they kept sneaking glances at their paper while they were drawing (so did I, if I’m being honest). I just couldn’t figure out how in the world I was supposed to actually draw something without looking.

Eventually I figured out it didn’t matter what I drew, it mattered what I saw. It’s amazing how much detail I began to notice once I was required to stare at an object and explicate its various lines with my eyes.

The tiny cracks in a teapot became splitting crevices on pavement.

The tiny veins in a leaf of ivy became Jack’s beanstalk etched against the sky.

I could see everything.

The blind contour drawing of my shoe was by no means an accurate representation, nor was the drawing of my hand or the soup can.

(The picture below is my shoe.)

But within those two hours I was learning how to see in a completely different way.

My professor sent us outside to draw an element of nature and I chose a lone vine of ivy. At this point she gave us permission to look at our paper for a reference point every time we started a new line. But she still wanted us to draw with our eyes and pay close attention to how the lines moved and formed.

That vine of ivy became an entire world as I depicted the patterns.

How can there be no God when there are worlds of detail etched upon the earth everywhere I look?

When my professor talked the first day about the connection between faith and art I didn’t understand what she was talking about. I knew I could pray through art when I played the piano or drew, but I didn’t realize that there could always be a spiritual process involved with art.

Until last night.

I must have drawn that vine of ivy for an hour or so. People passed me on the street wondering why I was sitting with a giant sketch board facing a vine of ivy and drawing it. I must have looked stupid—but I didn’t care what they thought.

Here was the final product:

I was entranced by the process, and captivated by the beauty that God gave this world.

I can’t begin to picture heaven if the earth is this glorious.