Last night when I came out of Metro, the sky was the perfect colour of blue. It was the kind of blue that is at the same time relaxing and exhilarating and it's like the stars and silver crescent moon are smiling so wide it hurts because they know they look so good standing with that dark cerulean. It was the kind of moment where the two just stare each other in the eye, smiling, and everyone who witnesses it tingles with that ooey-gooey lovely feeling, recognizing something that is all at once destiny and poetry and I just want to fall on the ground because this Creator blows my mind.
I'm listening to this song that I found when trying to find another song I'm so captivated by all the sounds...and I am so interested in music - what inspires it? What does it mean? How did all these sounds get discovered? Why are we scared of it, in love with it, angered by it, moved by it, changed by it? How is it such an experience to make and manipulate and create and combine and discover and dance with what is all at once harmony and cacophony. And I feel like we only half experience it. If you could see all these waves, if they were colour, if you could see and smell and feel and taste them like the ocean waves, how beautiful would that be? Imagine!!!
I think the same way that we forget how to solve math problems, or how to conjugate verbs, or the words to an old favourite song, we so often forget things when we don't practice them. And I think that so often are out of practice imagining. Even when I think I'm imagining things - it's usually imagining the future, or imagining experiences that are still within the constraints of how the world actually seems to be. And I kind of miss imagining I'm a dragon living in a floating castle and talking a secret language with creatures that my friends and I made up.
I want to imagine more than solutions for problems, or answers to questions, or my life worked out the way I want it to. I want to imagine more than just while dreaming.
I was made in the image of God who created and creates. And I wonder, when I think about the sky, and art, and words, and music, and life and the world, what can be seen in creation. I wonder what there is to know through creativity, and what there is to feel when creating and experiencing the art of others.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
Leap FROG.
I love that moment, when you jump into something and realize there is no turning back. The moment between jumping and plunging beneath ice-cold water. The moment between thinking a thought and opening your mouth and words coming out. The moment between making a chord and strumming loud and hard. I love it because it's a kind of tantalizing rush of adrenaline and oxygen expressed in fear-conquering, trust-building, heart-shaping experience. I love it because of the growth I see in seconds of stomping on silly things that have been holding me back for so long. I love it because I realize that in my small, weak, scared, broken, lie-beleiving self is a Spirit of power, truth, and strength. I love it because the freedom that comes when the chains of fear fall to the ground is so beautiful. It's like putting on a pair of new glasses on a sunny Spring day, and realizing how clear and sharp and bright the world is. It's like wearing a flowing dress and running through a field in bare feet. It's like doing somersaults twisting and twirling around under clean river water that tastes and smells and feels delicious and pure.
This weekend I found sanctuary in a camp in a forest beside a lake in Quebec, with 20 youth and leaders from Grace. And as I reflect on our talks about identity, I realize how much of my life I've spent in an identity crisis - I want to be perfect, I want to be fun, I want to be skinny, I want to be accepted, I want to be the best student, I want to be good at everything I do, I want to know all the answers, I want everyone to love me, I want to make a difference, I want to succeed.... And I realize how much of my life has been spent wrapped up in lies about myself, and desperate, frantic, ridiculous attempts to be someone and something I'm not.
I remember going fishing with my mom and brother. Tim and I would get the line all tangled so often that my mom would spend the whole time patiently untying the transparent threads. It seemed to take so long! What an experience to realize that I am at the centre of a giant, messy knot of lies. I have to sit still like the little girl waiting for mom to untie my matted hair. I have to move as I'm called to move and wait as I'm called to wait. God is slowly unwinding the mess I've made. It's scary taking steps out of the cocoon I've hidden myself in. And I'm in process of continual metamorphosis. I've spent years trying to get myself out. Trying trying trying trying. Even trying things that scare me. Even doing the motions that might match some of what is going on right now. But I can't do it myself. I'm so thankful for the patient, wise, careful leading of my Creator. I'm so thankful that He searches and knows my heart, that He holds, shields, and provides for me.
Jon used an analogy of boiling frogs this weekend. If you put a frog in boiling water - it will jump out immediately. But if you put it in cool water, and slowly raise the temperature, he just sits there. And as one of the youth famously quoted at the end of the weekend - I'm learning frogs can be boiled in a good way. I am changed and influenced by my surroundings - and that is a long and slow process. Me giving up my pride and being willing to be open, honest, weak, and imperfect is a slow process. It's a process that involves leaps of faith.
We jumped through a hole in the ice into the freezing lake. And it was so refreshing. It was so exhilarating. It was so worth the initial pain of walking on the slushy frozen surface to meet the cool waters. As I'm taking leaps of faith - even little ones, like playing the guitar during worship, or speaking French with francophones, I need to leap like a frog. Not the little green creature that may have appeared everywhere I went as a preteen. Growing takes leaps of faith in which I FROG. Fully. Rely. On. God.
God who gives me identity. God who gifts me uniquely. God who loves me despite all that I do.
Hello World. My name is Jennifer Emery. I am intimately known and loved by the God who created me, and calls me his child. I am walking down a winding path hand in hand with my saviour, Jesus Christ. In Him, I'm breaking away from fear.
And it feels...
Like rain boots in the muddy creek between blackberries and alder trees, trying to catch a frog.
This weekend I found sanctuary in a camp in a forest beside a lake in Quebec, with 20 youth and leaders from Grace. And as I reflect on our talks about identity, I realize how much of my life I've spent in an identity crisis - I want to be perfect, I want to be fun, I want to be skinny, I want to be accepted, I want to be the best student, I want to be good at everything I do, I want to know all the answers, I want everyone to love me, I want to make a difference, I want to succeed.... And I realize how much of my life has been spent wrapped up in lies about myself, and desperate, frantic, ridiculous attempts to be someone and something I'm not.
I remember going fishing with my mom and brother. Tim and I would get the line all tangled so often that my mom would spend the whole time patiently untying the transparent threads. It seemed to take so long! What an experience to realize that I am at the centre of a giant, messy knot of lies. I have to sit still like the little girl waiting for mom to untie my matted hair. I have to move as I'm called to move and wait as I'm called to wait. God is slowly unwinding the mess I've made. It's scary taking steps out of the cocoon I've hidden myself in. And I'm in process of continual metamorphosis. I've spent years trying to get myself out. Trying trying trying trying. Even trying things that scare me. Even doing the motions that might match some of what is going on right now. But I can't do it myself. I'm so thankful for the patient, wise, careful leading of my Creator. I'm so thankful that He searches and knows my heart, that He holds, shields, and provides for me.
Jon used an analogy of boiling frogs this weekend. If you put a frog in boiling water - it will jump out immediately. But if you put it in cool water, and slowly raise the temperature, he just sits there. And as one of the youth famously quoted at the end of the weekend - I'm learning frogs can be boiled in a good way. I am changed and influenced by my surroundings - and that is a long and slow process. Me giving up my pride and being willing to be open, honest, weak, and imperfect is a slow process. It's a process that involves leaps of faith.
We jumped through a hole in the ice into the freezing lake. And it was so refreshing. It was so exhilarating. It was so worth the initial pain of walking on the slushy frozen surface to meet the cool waters. As I'm taking leaps of faith - even little ones, like playing the guitar during worship, or speaking French with francophones, I need to leap like a frog. Not the little green creature that may have appeared everywhere I went as a preteen. Growing takes leaps of faith in which I FROG. Fully. Rely. On. God.
God who gives me identity. God who gifts me uniquely. God who loves me despite all that I do.
Hello World. My name is Jennifer Emery. I am intimately known and loved by the God who created me, and calls me his child. I am walking down a winding path hand in hand with my saviour, Jesus Christ. In Him, I'm breaking away from fear.
And it feels...
Like rain boots in the muddy creek between blackberries and alder trees, trying to catch a frog.
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