God as Artist

The Shape in a Misshapen World Festival of the Arts was this weekend. The event was sponsored by 5 Stones and brought a community of visual and literary artists together under one roof to celebrate creativity. It was the first time we've tried something like it, and I think it was a success. We had a decent turn-out for an arts festival (you never know with such things), and the readings all went very well.

I recently attended a presentation at AU by a scientist named Karl Giberson. Among many thought-provoking points he mentioned in his speech, he talked about the metaphors we tend to use to understand God. The scientific community often uses the metaphor for God as engineer, which is a very practical position; an engineer's job is to build things that run efficiently and accomplish the tasks they are supposed to. If we view God only as engineer, though, we miss other aspects of the creator God. Not only is God concerned with how the world operates but the emotional undercurrent of creation. God is also an artist.

Why is it that we call a rose beautiful and a dandelion a weed? Why do multiple species of birds singing together sound pleasant, while multiple people singing different songs sounds garbled and chaotic? Why do mountain peaks covered in snow evoke awe and wonder while snow on my driveway evokes annoyance? There is more to the earth than just a practical tool for survival. There are objects on earth that have both a practical and aesthetic appeal - and to appreciate the creator to a greater degree, we ought to also consider His creation as something complex, beautiful, and mysterious.

This weekend's festival was an opportunity to show how we try to find shape, or answers, in our misshapen world. Just like God the creator, artists are in the business of looking for deeper meaning in the world than just the practical systems that exist. The world resonates with emotion and spirit. Artists are looking for it everywhere. In regards to poetry, C.S. Lewis had this to say, "Poetry too is a little incarnation, giving body to what had been before invisible and inaudible." We are looking for the invisible and inaudible, so that others can see it and feel it themselves.

Crater

Wrap your atmosphere around me –
I do not want to be the moon, unable to deflect
even the smallest cosmic speck. I flinch and dodge
a million bullets in a meteor shower, yearn to watch
the light show at night without fear. Without you,
my surface is sensitive – I bruise at the slightest affront,
scurry away to nurse my hurt. If I must wear
the craters of personal implosions and exterior stonings,
dress them in deep blue water with stunning clarity
so that none may question why this happened
but only know that nothing so beautiful
and pure could come without pain.

Plant in my volcanic cavity a hemlock tree
so all will witness how you’ve rooted yourself
in my explosive fragility and called me strong.

Amazing

For no particular reason, I have been amazed lately. At everything. I can't seem to help myself - the snow falls and I think, "how amazing! It's white and fluffy and mutes the world and each flake is unique and it is just so stinkin' creative! How did he think of it?!" But I guess that's not so unusual - everyone looks at snow and thinks, neat-o. But there are some things that I've gotten hung up on lately that I think if taken to their farthest conclusion would render me certifiably insane.

For instance, our bodies. Have you ever thought about how cool they are? It takes foreign objects (like brussels sprouts and pork chops and sauer kraut), smooshes it all around in one organ with these chemicals and then takes the stuff that's in those foreign objects and uses it, magically, for the health and well-being of the rest of our body. And then there's the disposal system, which I won't go into here, but let's face it - it's pretty amazing too. Beyond food and that amazing process, there's what happens with blood. Blood brings all the nutrients to all of the other interdependent organs in the body. And, some of its cells fight the bad guys that sneak in with food and air and water. And, by some amazing process, the deoxygenated blood keeps itself separated from the oxygenated blood to and from the heart, which pumps non-stop, on demand at timely intervals from somewhere around two to three weeks of existence in the womb until the very last second here.

And don't even get me started on the brain, bones, joints, skin, muscles, five senses, spinal cord, lungs, liver, reproductive system. Besides the fact that they even exist and function, they grow! They heal! They change! They weaken and strengthen! They bend and wiggle and stretch and shrink!

It's amazing. AMAZING! The very hairs on our head are numbered. We don't have to look any farther than the fingerprints on our thumbs to see that we have been fearfully and wonderfully made, unique down to the microbiological level, with slight variations to make us different but ultimately half of the population could mate with the other half of the six billion people on the planet and create a fully-functional human with some new combination of chromosomes and DNA, with her grandma's curls, her daddy's blue eyes, and her momma's unusually shaped little toe.

I think part of this astonishment and wonder comes out of watching my children grow and learn. Elvis, my son, almost died when he was born because of problems with his lung development, even though he was full-term, and whenever he chokes on a cup of water, I remember those first few days. But thanks to the help of a bunch of healthcare physicians who were on the watch those first critical days and thanks to a miraculous Healer in heaven, who created bodies that can take on almost anything and still survive and thrive as if they had normal beginnings, he survived and looks and breathes just like any other 17-month old. It's amazing.

Lydia is just as amazing as Elvis - she has all of these words that come out of her mouth - phrases and word combinations and thoughts that are unique to her mind and heart. She has such compassion and care, such love and joy, and it just pours out. I certainly didn't teach these things to her - they are innate, stored up somewhere in her soul. And... to be repetitive... she's amazing.

I haven't even gotten into the other things that bring wonder and awe -- the seasons, the sunset, the earth and its solar system, the galaxy, the universe... zooming back in to the bees and pollenation, the trees and carbon dioxide and oxygen, the water cycle, the sea star, the sea horse, the grass... I could go on and on. I am in awe.

If you have a chance each day, think about something commonplace, something you've taken for granted. It doesn't have to be anything high and lofty - it could simply be the fact that you winked, or sneezed. Investigate it - what does it take to do this? Why do we sneeze? Why do we blink? How do we see, really? What is involved from a scientific standpoint? And then, once you've seen how complex that single process is, think bigger - cloud creation, volcanoes, earthquakes, oceans, ice, islands, palm trees, sand, rocks, stars, light, sound. And now that you've effectively overwhelmed yourself, think even bigger - all of this, everything and everyone, God created. God knows. God has touched. God has breathed the breath of life in each of us. God has the power to heal us of our deepest hurts and addictions. God has the power to be larger than the entire universe and yet more intimate than a lover.

Amazing.