The best book of poetry begins with "In the beginning..."

Poetry is a powerful form of language... of writing... of art. An honest poem can cause a reader to burst out in pure laughter; it can cause them to weep tears of sorrow and pain. A raw, real, all natural poem pulls at the heartstrings of the reader. They connect. 

Poetry is powerful. It is writings of one observer, read by another. A poet is a creator, and the best poet is our Creator. And the best book of poetry begins with "In the beginning..".

This idea of the Bible as one giant work of poetry has come about in the past. Past sermons I've listened too, talks I've heard, discussions I've been a part of; needless to say I've heard this idea before. But it did not come to full reality until I attend a conference this past April. The focus of the conference: connecting arts to the heart of God.

Over the course of the two day conference I witnessed the lyrical songs of Josh Garrels, attended workshops on the sacred art of listening, creative writing as a spiritual disciple, and the many purposes of song.

The discussion, the seed planting idea of the Bible as poetry was brought forth in one the main sessions. When Tim Mackie read the piece below from Isaiah 30: 9-18. It was during his reading that I become head over heels for the poetry of our Creator.

THIS is what sold me, convinced me...
[Bring out the inner poet within you as you read this aloud]:

For these are rebellious people, deceitful children,
     children unwilling to listen to the Lord's instruction.
They say to the seers,
     "See no more visions!"
and to the prophets,
     "Give us no more visions of what is right!
Tell us pleasant things,
     prophesy illusions.
Leave this way, get off this path,
     and stop confronting us
  with the Holy One of Israel!"
Therefore this is what the Holy One of Israel says:
     "Because you have rejected this message,
          relied on oppression
          and depended on deceit,
     this sin will become for you
          like a high wall, cracked and bulging,
          that collapses suddenly, in an instant.
     It will break in pieces like pottery,
          shattered so mercilessly
     that among its pieces not a fragment will be found
          for taking coals from a hearth
          or scooping water out of a cistern."
This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says:
     "In repentance and rest is your salvation,
          in quietness and trust is your strength,
          but you would have none of it.
     You said, 'No, we will flee on horses.'
          Therefore you will flee!
     You said, 'We will ride off on swift horses.'
          Therefore your pursuers will be swift!
     A thousand will flee
          at the threat of one
     at the threat of five
          you will all flee away,
      till you are left
          like a flagstaff on a mountaintop,
          like a banner on a hill."
     Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you;
          therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.
     For the Lord is a God of justice.
          Blessed are all who wait for him! [Isaiah 30: 9-18]

Words are powerful... they shape futures, they change lives. Poems are words. The words of the best book of poetry can shape futures and change lives.

You, you with your humility...

My someday child I picture you with your head resting upon the pink hued pillow, curls filling the empty void of space around your sweet face. Lips perfectly lined as you dream sweet dreams, counting sheep as they dance along in your mind.  

As I stand alongside your bed, watching you sleep, I let these thoughts fill my mind. Words of prayer being whispered into the still room. Child, remain humble. Hold tight to the humility you posses at the young age you are. Clench it in your fist and never let go. Have the patience of calm. When you face the trials of busy, of exhaustion, of failure hold tight to the ship flying the flag of patience. 

credit to Elizabeth Blank Photography

Be kind. Be gentle. Hold fast to gentleness. Do not let the winds of this world pull gentleness and grace from you. In your humility, patience, kindness, gentleness... love. Love those who need love; love all for we all need love. Find the little, the small, and love on it. Love in weakness, in loss, in beauty.  

Be the light on the hill. Shine for your Creator; the one who has crafted the being of you. Shine! Shine your light around the world. In the being of you be what you are called to be. Even in the darkness of uncertainty, in fear. Step out on the edge and try. Try, fail. Fail and learn. Try, try again, and conquer. Conquer the world with love.  

My someday child with your soft curls, your porcelain skin fill yourself with humility, patience, kindness, gentleness, and love.

Searching for your story

When you are stuck, you desire a place of creative inspiration. A place filled with overwhelming creativity. A desk overlooking a garden filled with bright colored poppies. A quaint coffee shop on the corner between Central and Eighth. A room where rustic wood lines the walls, covered in vintage black and white photographs.

Photographs of stories. The wrinkled hands of a Navajo woman. The portrait of a flapper girl from the twenties. A "in the moment" snapshot of a young girl wrapped in the beauty of the ocean, searching.
How often we search. We search for meaning, words, stories, lives. We search for people, spouses, children. We search for meaning greater than our own. For faith.
We search.
Now I search for the words to type because I am stuck. I am stuck without words. My writing has halted, stalled.

In one month I will search for adventure. I will wander the mountains, the open field, the mighty big sky. I will search the sky for faith. I will stand arms open. Listening.
Listening for the words I seek. Standing in the purple field of love, from the handiwork of a Creator who loves me. Even in the weeks I fail to bow my head and whisper up a silent prayer. The days I fail to acknowledge a might greater than mine. He loves me.

I am tired of searching. Aren't we all. We see the photographs lining the wall and think they won in their search. Yet the Navajo woman searched for a place to call home as her land was swept out from beneath her. As her culture, her language was torn away from her in rooms boarded with rules. Searching for HER story in the midst of it all. The twenties flapper searched for beauty, for love. She threw herself at the word, searching for acceptance. The young girl at the ocean searched for a stone, a shell. For a smile and a hope.

Add your photograph to the wall. Will you be bent over a typewriter searching for a story. Huddled over a cup of tea searching for the words to say. The life to live. Here is a hint: stop searching for your story and start living it.