The more I tell my residency story, the more I recognize the ways God has worked in and through my life. Perhaps other believers come to the same realization. God works, sometimes with tempests and big fish, to draw me closer to himself and his purpose. Other times, he uses quiet moments, small stones, loaves and, yes, more fish, to direct my mind, heart, and hands toward him and his glory.
Big Storms
Of course, my tempests and stones look little like the literal things. Storms, though, have swept my life. Some threatened to break me up as surely as the storm God hurled at Jonah. They hit, and I despaired, wept, yelled, wrote angry poems. I sank, sometimes for weeks or months at a time until I remembered I belong to Christ. He made me, and he, not anyone else, determines my worth and value. I cried out to him and, while reaching “shore” was still hard, he was with me—as he always was. I simply forgot when the waves crashed and the seaweed strangled.
However, not all storms arise from the same place. God always controls them; he’s sovereign over all things. Still, some storms come from him while others belong to me. I go the wrong way, spend time with the wrong person, and end up in a hurricane of my own making. God and I, though, aren’t the only players in motion. The enemy, the devil, bears responsibility, too. He doesn’t want me to follow God’s call on my life and does everything in his power to distract me from it.
All storms, though, no matter their source, lead to a point of decision: Will I cry out to God or try to make my own way? Too often, I choose the latter. The storm worsens, shredding sails from masts and gusting sailors overboard. I feel as though my body could break. It hurts to breathe; my stomach muscles ache as though I’ve performed crunches for seven days straight.
When I finally realize I should step away from the wheel and let God take control, I cry out. Realization dawns, much as it must have for Jonah in the fish or the lost son in the pigpen. I feel like such a fool, and yet I can’t let that emotion guide my next actions. If shame motivates me, I will only try to manage the storm myself. If, however, I repent of my foolishness and call out to God, he hears me and replies. He might let the storm continue for a while, but he is present in a way I’d missed. Lightening streaks the sky, and I marvel at the One who created it—he controls the elements, and yet, he’s right here, with me, in the storm.
Small Stones
God uses big storms to restore me to himself, but he uses small stones, too. David declares, “The battle is the Lord’s,” and fells Goliath with a single, smooth stone. Elijah hears God in a “gentle blowing.” God’s people hear him in his Word, the Bible. These little stones, little ebenezers, little memorials, little testaments to God’s mercy and grace.
For me, the stones take form in the arts, people, events, and books, including the Bible. Art has been a constant in my life, a sort of common grace. It started to grow into something more than that when I discovered poetry in college. In poetry, I began to work through my doubts, fears, and anger. The poetry eventually became a spiritual act, so much so that one of my graduate school professors questioned me about it during my oral defense.
Another stone rests with the church and specific people within it. Craig and Ginger Corley, for example, poured into my life at the right time. God sowed dissatisfaction in my heart, urging me to find a church that rooted itself in the Bible. He gave me Three Rivers, a church grounded in the Bible and art. Craig, the pastor, painted pictures with words. In doing so, the Bible again became vibrant and alive and altogether lovely.
That time, perhaps more than any other, marks the beginning of my journey toward a passion for art (creativity), faith (theology), and the church. It’s not the only time, though, and it’s not the only church. Other churches, including my current one, exhibit a love for the arts and artists.
Books and events serve as reminders, too. Creative Missions showed me how art could work inside the church to go outside the church. Because of that trip, and my support of an overseas missionary, I started to see how art could serve God’s global purpose, of his glory filling the earth. As for books, my collection started with Rory Noland’s The Heart of the Artist and continues to expand. (I foresee needing a new bookshelf for my study of creativity and theology.) These books grew my vision and established guiding principles, such as the idea that I am to steward my artistic talent so that it glorifies God and serves people.
All the stones lead somewhere, although I’m not sure of the destination. I know the next step, or stone, occurs with the residency at The Austin Stone Community Church. As I move toward it, I look back and stand amazed at my little stones and big storms. God has used them and is using them to accomplish his good purpose, not because he has to, but because he wants to. He loves me, and he gives me these beautiful stones and devastating storms, again and again, to remind me of it.
Image: Mr.TinDC (Creative Commons)