brilliant!

Having recently been challenged to see worship and creative expression through an intergenerational lens, I find myself inspired by two places on the web.  Adie Loves Polly is the photoblog of 4-year-old Adie, who takes pictures with her polaroid camera named Polly (she has a good eye and takes some rather charming photographs, in the vein of her very own mother).  I adore that she been given her own camera - and a blog too!  

Further:

The Blog WeeMade is another visual blog that showcases the mini masterpieces of kids from all over.  I've said it before, we are all artists!

He is risen!

Again, my most favourite scripture, ripe with meaning on this joyful day:

Since, then, you have been raised with Christ,  set your heart on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.  Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.  For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.  When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you will also appear with him in glory.

{Colossians 3:1-4}

{What a joy it was to stand face to face with God's people today, singing the praises of Jesus, our Saviour!}

without singing

Three days after my doctor put me on vocal rest (to heal my teaching-ravaged singing voice), I found myself at a Sunday morning gathering, feeling admittedly, a little bit off.   All around me people were singing, and I wondered how I could participate in this corporate act of 

(musical) worship.  My first inclination was to shut my eyes tight and pray, and I did.  But once I opened my eyes, I found there were quite a few ways for me to meaningfully engage with the music.  I became very aware of my brothers and sisters around me, and found it was kind of encouraging to listen and watch.  I smiled at some, and noted some newcomers to greet after the service.  I winked at one of the girls I mentor, and was heartened as I watched her close her eyes and sing with feeling.  I prayed for my family around me, and realized that as part of the congregation, their singing was my singing.  Watching and praying was oddly fortifying, and I felt very much that I was worshipping with the body of Christ.  I may have been silent, but we were not.

The next week, I came ready to worship without singing, and was flooded with all sorts of ways to worshipfully engage the music component of the gathering.  Without a voice, my posture became significant.  Simply raising my eyes upwards or bowing my head, lifting my hands or touching my heart, all became ways to demonstrate my love for God.  I focused my attention on the qualities of God we were singing about and found myself ruminating at length on the meaning of the words.  Certain phrases jumped out at me, and spurred me to pray silently, or open my Bible.  (Once in a while I cheated, and sang out a lyric or chorus that I just could not keep in!).  Many times we sung lyrics that spoke of the song of the heart, and I knew that my heart was indeed singing, even though my lips were silent.  

How great is our God, sing with me, How great is our God 

All who sing, how great, how great is our God!

Name above all names, He is worthy of all praise

My heart will sing how great is our God!

{'How Great Is Our God', Chris Tomlin}

on long tubes, action plans and egyptian mummies

Today a voice specialist doctor inserted a long tube with a light on the end of it into my nose and down into my throat.  As he moved it around and peered at my vocal chords, all I could think about was how during mummification, the ancient Egyptians would put a long hook in the nose to pull out the brains.  

On a positive note, he pronounced my vocal chords healthy, and free of nodes or lesions, which makes me happy.  I am on vocal rest for the next three weeks (Confession: I've already cheated a little, even though tonight I only played guitar at band practice).  If I rest my voice properly, I should be able to sing again at the end of all of this.  If I don't, that doctor will have to use the tube again, which is incentive enough to change my errant ways.

And so, here is my action plan for the next three weeks:

• Use non-verbal cues in my classroom, and plan out my instructions in advance, so I can say them with the least amount of talking.
• Schedule significant vocal rest into every day.
• Quit singing in the car.  Hide all the Feist & Sufjan Stevens CDs, and listen only to difficult-to-sing-along-to albums, like Radiohead's Kid A, and The Album Leaf.  Listen to talk radio if necessary (ugh).  
• Continue to think of meaningful ways to engage Sunday gatherings, Wednesday night MG and personal worship times without singing.
• Absolutely NO coffee, caffeinated teas or beverages of any kind.  Drink water!

in quietness and trust (isaiah 30:15)

today at church 

i worshipped God without singing

because i have laryngitis and

cannot sing

i closed my eyes

i whispered ragged prayers

i put out my hands

i listened and looked up

a seed

I can't take intellectual credit for the definition of worship that I love the most;  I overheard it at a coffee house, a snippet of conversation displaced, like seeds blown by the wind, and planted into my own conciousness.  And so, as I flipped through ReadyMade magazine, and sipped my (grande non-fat no-whip one-pump sugar-free hazelnut white chocolate) mocha, I heard a phrase that has stayed with me, and informed my own idea of worship for many years: 

"Worship is touching God's heart, and inviting God to touch ours."

Years later, I am still working through the significance of this statement, recognizing and confessing (often!) my self-centered ways, and seeking to please God in all the arenas of my life.  

"Therefore I urge you, brothers [and sisters], to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God.  This is your spiritual act of worship." Romans 12:1 

we are all artists!

I've always shied away from calling myself an artist.  Let's face it: I'm not one who routinely creates groundbreaking paintings or records hit songs.  And yet, I am always artistically engaged with the world around me.  Everywhere I go, I take note of interesting compositions, graphic colour combinations, lyrical moments, and photographs waiting to happen (In fact, during my soul-crushing commute to work, I keep my camera handy to capture those fleeting moments that would otherwise pass me by in a whirl).  I am constantly humming new melodies, creating thematic mix cds, or filling my sketchbook with all manner of whimsical drawings.  So while my so-called "art" may never be curated in a gallery, I think it is safe to say that I am very much an artist.

All this to say that, in my mind, we are all artists.  Within each of us is the creative spark. We are image-bearers of God, one whose public art installations (reference: ocean tides, the stars reflected on water, bioluminescence, or newborn babies) are staggering.  Some of us (like me) are perhaps more tuned in to the art all around, and some, more naturally gifted at the technical/practical making of art.  But all of us yearn to create - or at least, to appreciate - and no act of artistic expression is insignificant or lacking value.  With the right tools and a little inspiration, all of us have something creative to put out into the world, and the people, around us.  What's more, our creative endeavours speak of God's own character, and thus have the capacity to touch not only those around us, but God's own heart.

Further:

www.learningtoloveyoumore.com

www.photojourneywithgod.blogspot.com