identity..

I joined an art class.

I’ve never considered myself artsy fartsy.

I like to paint.

Bob Ross was my Sunday afternoons in my late teens, early 20’s.

One day, I thought I did a good job with a painting in art class in high school and a stupid jerk face boy made fun of it.

I love art.

But I’m not great at it, I’m not gifted.

I had an art teacher in high school that was not schooled in art… or teaching

My efforts were never very good apparently.

But, I love art.

I love looking at art, I love watching people make art. 

Any kind really.

What I love really, is being in the presence of creation.

How amazing would it have been to be in God’s presence when he created the world, the universe, the garden, eve, the serpent.

Creating something out of nothing is breathtaking, anytime, for anything. 

How breathtaking would it have been to be with him as he created you?

In my head I see a picture and I try to sketch it and it looks like a cartoon.

My art teacher gave me an assignment. A stack of post it notes and a charge to sketch what I see over the next two weeks. Well, tomorrow it is two weeks and I haven’t sketched a thing. I’ve seen things, and think, “wow, I wish I could draw that”

I lamented to Brad in the car on the way to church last Sunday and Iain said, “Why are you afraid to draw mom?”

I said, “because I don’t think I’m very good at it”

And Noah chimes in, “But, it’s just drawing, mom”

“I will help you mom, it’s really easy, you just draw. I will show you how when we get back home” Iain spoke plainly. No one has ever told him his creation is bad.

-

I see Birch trees dropping their yellow glitter. their white bodies with black tiger stripes looking stark and gloried at the same time in the autumn sun.

I see a neighbour’s cat in our backyard, I’m hoping he’s there to catch a mouse.

I see Iain come running to me from the school, smiling ear to ear. He had a great day.

I see Brad reading and highlighting and reading and writing and labouring a paper and a sermon in one week.

I see my friend weep as the spirit moves her in recounting Revelation. And all creation sings His praises for ever, without time or space, past or future. He is the I Am. No beginning or end.

I see Carlon laying on his bed, talking to me about his day, choking back tears and my heart burns because I know his pain. Oh my son.. I know it intimately.

I see my sister, answering my FaceTime call, talking me down off the ledge of panic and anxiety.

I see devoured turkey and stuffing. And pies… works of art.

I see Noah, hugging his friends. Boys, girls, it make no difference. If they will accept it, they get hug love.

-

These are the moments I notice. 

Not “things”. 

Moments.

They are flashes of his image, they are his creation.

What does it matter what it looks like?

Are we not created to create?

Do we seek to bring light and life, understanding and meaning to our space in this place and time?

We are creation living and breathing because he decided it so.

And he isn’t even done creating us yet.

I am a work in progress, and a masterpiece.

-

My creation is not for my own impress

-

Look what I made Abba?

Do you like it?

-

And he always knows exactly what it is

And he loves it

out on a limb..

The beginning of this year God told me to wait, and I have looked into all that can mean. Wait on him? Wait for him? What do I do in the waiting? It is a lot to figure out and my thoughts aren’t settled overnight. So, I have been pretty quiet on here lately, part busyness, part ignoring, part scared, part not too sure I should even be doing this. I really struggle with the inauthentic authenticity of blogs. The calculated sincerity, being genuine, writing to “your” audience. The marketing end of it is so disheartening and disturbing. All those thoughts and questions and answers have brought up many doubts and fears, questioning motives questioning ability, questioning calling. It’s amazing how little it takes for the deceiver to get his claws into something. When I decided to start blogging a few years ago I believe at the time, it was out of anger. I wanted to scream and I had no voice. So, I used the blog as a way to scream. I look back on some of those posts and cringe. I can remember how I felt and it drips through my words. 

I was mad that I had to move, that God sent us somewhere, and it coloured, or, blacked out, every nuance in my days. And while I have learned so much about myself and God through this, one thing I can’t seem to get my thick skull around is to not be afraid. Every time God calls me to something new, I am afraid. 

Do you have that too?

Even if it is something I have wanted, When it seems clear that it is in front of me I figure I must’ve taken a wrong turn. 

“What God?”

“No no no no, that’s not for me”

“You must have me mistaken for someone else”

“I don’t know how to do that”

“Can’t I just stay here where it doesn’t require anything of me?”

“I don’t. like. change!”

That last one Brad and I will say to each other over different situations as a joke. 

But really.

I don’t like change.

Even the first three months after Brad and I were married, I cried a lot.

How do you live with someone? It’s weird and awkward!

Right now I am wrestling with this blog, with writing, with discerning God’s call on my life. I’m great at figuring out other peoples “things”. Never so astute on my own issues.

Brad is currently preaching through Exodus and last week was all about Moses’ excuses when he met God at the burning bush and was being called to lead Israel out of Egypt. 

“But, but, but”

Was basically the gist of it.

And God was all,
“I will do, I will do, I will do”

And Moses was all,

“but I can’t speak goodly - lkdhfnsdoihfn - See?”

And God was all,

“fuh-cryin’out-loud”

I have met God at a burning bush and he is telling me to do something and I have been all but, but, but and he has been “Ok, I will..” and I keep stalling and he keeps loving and I keep hiding under my failures and self doubt and he keeps pulling away the layers and showing me how big he is..

So, um, I think right now God is all like,

“Colleen… fuh-cryin’out-loud. What’s it gonna take?”

I don’t know God. Just, I’m scared ‘cause I’m little and you’re big and you know things and I don’t and the voice in my head telling me I can’t is somehow easier to listen to then your voice telling me I can and I have a history of not following through on things and I don’t want to fail you and as much as I want this I also feel totally unequipped (good christian jargon) for what you are telling me to do.

And on Sunday when Brad was preaching (which, by the way, I told him he was a big stinky poo head for preaching this) God said to me:

“Who makes a person’s mouth? Who decides whether people speak or do not speak, hear or do not hear, see or do not see? Is it not I the LORD? Now go! I will be with you as you speak, and I will instruct you in what to say”

Now, go ahead and argue with me that I am using this scripture out of context. That God was speaking to Moses, and Moses only.

And I will say,

How dare you confine the living word to that one time and space. Your God must be pretty damn small. 

And I will realize that I like the fact that my God is so big, strong and mighty that there is nothing he cannot do.

There is nothing he cannot do.

And the sparrows are smaller than me.

And the Israelites didn’t do as God called them and they wandered in a desert for 40 years.

So, I am starting. Even though I’m scared and doubt my ability and don’t even know how to go about starting what it is I’m supposed to do. I mean, he’s really got me out on a limb here, and I’m afraid of heights.