Posts Tagged ‘aesthetics’

A couple of years ago at the school I worked, the theme of the year had to do with aesthetics … things to do with artistic beauty, or things that are pleasing to the senses. I have to say that my original thoughts on this theme were rather … ‘artsy-fartsy’ with little weighty depth. Upon further explanation, my perspective changed.

This theme came out of Creation, the amazing, ordered, pleasing world that our God has created. How could I argue with the beauty and order we experience every day?

Throughout the school year the word ‘aesthetic’ surfaced a number of times in a number of ways, each time drawing me closer with the realization that being made in the image of the Creator, meant that I was handed down a creative gene by my creative father.

When I read the following words, by Bonnie Gray, at her blog site, Faith Barista (which serves up a “double shot of faith”), I experienced that unplanned response of “ahhhh.”

I read the words,

I knew the words,

I had lived the words and knew them to be true in my own experience.

When you get closer to what truly moves your heart, you will touch the places that are still tender.

Because that creative place where you feel most safe is often where you’ve gone — when you’ve been most wounded.

Where do you go – to find safety, to express pain and beauty, in your world?

It’s there — in those private places of freedom — where you meet with God and your creative self speaks.”

… where you meet with God … and your creative self speaks …

Um, that speaks to me!

And now is the rest of the article, by Bonnie Gray:

“I sat there, at one spot on a table that stretched long, parked adjacent to other tables, wrapping us into a square donut of seats.

Faces blinked back at me from across the room on the other side. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

I was at an artists meeting that night.

And I was the keynote speaker.

I walked into this room with two legs, I began.

But, if you could really look deep inside me tonight…

I took a big, shaky breath.

You would see that the legs to my soul… are broken.

My lips start to tremble and my hands start to cool and shake, even though it is a warm summer eve.

I gulp and continue.

The reason is — because you see — I’ve spent a lot of the hours of my days this year in my bed.  In my home.


Not because I don’t love to be with people.

But, because of panic attacks.

They were triggered by memories that have come alive — doing something I’ve always loved.

Something I’ve always dreamed of doing.

Writing a book.

This is how I introduced myself to a group of painters, designers, illustrators, poets, musicians… writers.

It sure didn’t sound inspiring to me at all.

At one point, I even had to stop and collect myself.

I was overwhelmed by the surreal experience of recounting my story out in the open.

Even as I shared my story, I questioned whether there was any value in exposing pain that has been endured so privately.

I felt for sure I was making everyone feel uncomfortable and awkward.

Until I saw one woman’s eyes start to tear.  Then, another man’s head dip, in a knowing nod.

There is beauty behind the pain.

These are the words I found myself speaking into the room with my new friends.

When you get closer to what truly moves your heart, you will touch the places that are still tender.

Because that creative place where you feel most safe is often where you’ve gone — when you’ve been most wounded.

Where do you go – to find safety, to express pain and beauty, in your world?

It’s there — in those private places of freedom — where you meet with God and your creative self speaks.

When I finished speaking, I ended by asking if any parts of my story resonated?

The first question broke the silence.

“Have you always known you were a writer?” Someone asked.

I pause for a moment, to consider my answer.  And the response I chose to give sparked a beautiful response — stories flowing from everyone’s childhood around the table.

I’ve always been a writer, before I called myself one.

Writing has always been that one thing in my life — since I was a little girl — that no one could ever take away from me.

I didn’t have to be good at it.

I didn’t have to think about it.

Writing is just what I did.

It’s the most natural thing I can do.

The artist in me is a little girl.

“How about you?” I scan the gazes of new friends who suddenly feel closer than the space between us.  ”When you do your thing — play music, paint, design, blog about fashion, take cooking videos, build models, write, take photos — when you create — are you doing what came most naturally to you, as a child?”

Energy suddenly stirs the room, reminding me of the wind of the Holy Spirit that once blew through a room full of disciples gathering together.  They began speaking in a way that was different — that drew people from the outside closer in.

That’s what art does.  It connects us to each other, in those places we are most vulnerable, opening what is private, finding language for what’s unspoken. For what’s important and real.

Everyone started telling their stories — of themselves — as little girls and little boys.

What they’ve always loved to do.  Before they knew what it was called.  Before it became a struggle to claim artistic enjoyment as God’s legitimate imprint of Himself in us.

The artistic you. I discovered this is everyone’s continuing journey of faith.   To touch the artistic life we all hide deep inside. It’s the artist’s way.  The child in you.

Is there an ember of God’s creative voice flickering in you?

What is the one thing you’ve always enjoyed doing as a little girl, that felt most natural to you?

Take a moment to see yourself as that little girl right now.  Where is she and what does she like to do?

As you picture her, let your heart find its way back to where it longs to return.

Because that artist in you is God’s little girl.”

For I am mindful of the sincere faith within you…
For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God which is in you… 

For God has not given us a spirit of timidity,
but of power and love and discipline.
2 Timothy 1:5-7

Read Full Post »

As we drove down the road that we do not often drive, I spotted a new home still being constructed. Situated on top of hill, it had a perfect view of the reflected setting sun upon Washington’s Mount Baker. “Oh, what a perfect view I said to my husband,” and barely before I finished my declaration, from the back of the van, my son said, “that house has a perfect view.”

Hubby and I looked at each other, laughed, then shared my similar comment with the occupant of the rear of the vehicle. Then my son and I decided that if the two of us were to build a home, our first priority would be the view.

As I ponder that moment in time, I see similar characteristics in my son and I. We long for beauty, we are aesthetically needy individuals. We desire to have an appealing view in our life, and to be looking toward something that pleases our eyes.

I also see in this similarity, how this characteristic we share, is contrary to my son’s position in football. You see my son plays defense, and when you play defense your job is to hit, to tackle, to do anything possible to ensure that the opposing team is prevented from completing their intended play, and advancing towards the goal posts. When you play defense you have your back to the view that is the goal of your opponents. You are, in essence, trying to alter the view of the game, by changing the direction that the ball is going.

I also see that this characteristic we share is contrary to my position at work. I work as an Educational Assistant in a high school. I work with students who have diagnosable struggles to accomplish their school work. When you work in this field your job is to unlock doors you do not see to rooms of gifts and abilities that may or may not exist. I constantly work with my eyes blindfolded to how far this student will go, I cannot fathom the view that is the potential.

Despite how blinded to where we are going, what my son and I share is a focus on a view that we both know exists, despite our inability to see it while we are doing our jobs, focusing on our tasks, living our day. We are able to do this because we know the view is out there, and we know that it is beautiful beyond our imaginations. So, we soldier on with the anticipation of what is to come.

This is the Christian experience of daily living. God has given us a view of not just eternity, but of a life lived with Him. It is beautiful beyond our imaginations. And, despite the fact that our view is obstructed by the realities of living in a sin-filled world, despite the fact that it sometimes seems as though we are blinded to the future. Despite the fact that it sometimes seems as though our view is behind us, our faith in the existence of what is to come, and of the beauty that awaits, motivates us to soldier on, in anticipation of the view to come.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
Hebrews 11:1

Read Full Post »


Behind every strong woman, are all the other women that came before!

What Are You Thinking?

Theology is life. Learn to live well.


looking for wonder in everyday life

Sixth Seal Ministries

Life and Times Through the Lens of Bible Prophecy

Amazing Tangled Grace

A blog about my spiritual journey in the Lord Jesus Christ.


Giving a unique view and input on information to help individuals establish a concrete perspective on terms, words, topics and the world around them.

Following the Son

One man's spiritual journey

Fortnite Fatherhood

A father's digital age journey with his family and his faith


encouraging space to think deeply

Life- All over the map

A family journey through childhood cancer and around the world

A L!fe Lived

seeking the full life that only Jesus offers

J. A. Allen

Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins

The Mustard Seed Kingdom

A Blog of the Evangelical Anabaptist Partners