Sacred

   "All that belongs to the Father is Mine; this is why I said, 'The Spirit will tell you whatever he receives from Me.'" John 16:15

  The Meeting House has been doing a teaching series on Spiritual Practices. Our own church has encouraged people to come forward to share their own spiritual practices as a way of encouraging each other to explore the possibilities. Tomorrow, I'll be sharing how art has been one of the richest, deepest spiritual practices in my life. It's hard to whittle it down into a three minute blurb but, hopefully, what I've written out will suffice. In saying that, there's always room for some adlibbing if needed. (Smile.)

  What came out of writing tomorrow's little speech was rather astounding. 

  I went to college for graphic design but never worked in the field. Something held me back.

  

  My ex wanted me to sell my art and was rather frustrated when I only did a few custom pieces for friends. Creating art takes time. It is nothing like picking up a book and reading a couple of pages then putting it back down. There's an intense focus, the zone, which blocks out everything but what is being created. Having to interrupt it makes getting back into it nearly impossible. Not having the time to achieve such heightened focus makes creating art nearly impossible.

  Not only that, but it is exhausting. I've likened it to tossing hay for a day. I can acknowledge that he, as a non-artist wouldn't understand this. Life as a mom, a farmer, a wife, held me back.

  There were other reasons as well. I was terribly critical of my work and lacked confidence in my abilities. However, this morning came with the realization that even though I didn't walk with the Lord for most of my life, the biggest thing that stopped me from making the art into a marketable product was it simply felt wrong to do this.

  For the same reason I never threw out a Bible even though it wasn't something I ever read. Somehow it felt wrong to toss one into the recycling bin or garbage.

  As a small child, I knew the love of the Lord..."Jesus loves me, this I know." This got lost as the darkness in the world swallowed it whole. Doubt and contempt were born in the empty, "age appropriate," Anglican ritual of taking first communion. Judgement, bitterness and shame made me feel church was no place for the likes of me. I had no room in my life for the likes of them, either.

  The Lord has forgiven much. I have forgiven the youth pastor who was ill equipped to teach thirteen year olds about the real meaning behind Holy Communion. Especially ones that were already broken and lost. 

  

  Nevertheless, I heard...felt?...the Holy Spirit's guidance at various times; this sense of "something isn't right." It was impossible to ignore although if pressed, it would have been impossible to articulate why something felt wrong.

  As a believer, the art has flourished and grown. So has my confidence. The critical eye has been mostly corrected. (Smile, that's a work in progress.)

  But here's what's different: rarely do I draw or paint anything that isn't part of a prayer or celebration of faith. I will create something for someone else but it is always a gift, a blessing given, never something I get paid for. 

  Now I understand why the art was held back for all those years and why the world feared it. The art was kept apart from the world because, like all blessings, skills and talents from the Lord, they are sacred. 

  Oh, Lord, thank You for the gift You have entrusted into my keeping! Help me always remember just how precious it is.

  Something special happened today. There's a knowing in the deepest part of my heart. Even though most of my life was lived apart from Jesus, He was never very far away and His Spirit was always with me.

  All I have left to say is: To God be the Glory! AMEN!