I have not written in almost three months, but I have not been silent. A few months ago I started working out again. As usual, the impulse took me by surprise. One moment I was in a lazy/binging stupor, and the next I was resolute, passionate and disciplined. My mind makes that shift quickly, but my body…not as quickly.
As I threw myself into a rigorous routine of strength and cardio work my body cried out in protest. Each morning as I stood to get out of bed every muscle would seemingly tighten and cry out in complaint. I would hobble to the kitchen, bent over like an old man. There was pain on top of pain, and it seemed that I had discovered new places to hurt, new muscles that had never been called into action.
Lately, my creative life has been a mirror of my physical one. Writing is my comfort zone, the creative place to which I can escape. It is life-giving and is fulfilling, but it is…it is safe.
God has not been satisfied with safe.
He’s been pushing me. He’s been inspiring me. He’s been motivating me to stretch creative muscles that I don’t usually acknowledge. Thus I’m forced to rely on him and the wonderful community of artists of which I am a part. It’s been painful and wonderful.
This Easter our task was to capture the essence of freedom through creativity. We set out to express the childlike, rebellious, preposterous, joyful nature of the freedom we have in Christ. And in the midst of it I learned how freeing it is to surrender to the Creator and to the beauty of a creative community. Freedom in collaboration.
This is what that freedom freed us to create…