Ancient Suffering and the Holidays

I've been reading through the ancient story of Job this holiday season. From Thanksgiving to Christmas and on through the new year I'll be slowly journeying alongside this blessed man's wretched experiences.

If you're not familiar with the story of Job, get familiar.

A righteous man, he was wealthy in every way possible: a faithful wife to navigate life beside, wealth in his land and resources, servants, and the ultimate blessing, lots of kids. And then the chaos demon entered the picture.

The Satan. The slippery angelic snake.

The demon stood before Creator God at the foot of His throne and asked about the faithfulness of Job. After all, Job was blessed. He was protected. "But stretch out your hand and strike everything he has, and he will surely curse you to your face." So, God, confident of Job's faith and of His deep and trusting relationship with the man, freed the snake to go and oppress Job. To stir up suffering. To take everything from him with one caveat, not to lay a finger on Job himself.

Sure enough, the Sabeans attacked Job, carrying off pack animals and servants.

While the news of that attack was being shared, fire fell from the sky, burning up the sheep and the shepherds.

As the only survivor was sharing the news, the Chaldeans raided his camels and killed Job's servants.

And worst of all, at that very moment, a great storm blew in from the desert, collapsing the very home that all of Job's sons and daughters were dining in, killing them all.

Distraught, to say the least, Job morurned...

"Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised."

What an incredilbe response, right? Which only enraged the chaos demon who suddenly demanded greater access to greater suffering. '"Skin for skin!" Satan replied. "A man will give all he has for his own life."'

So, God allows the chaos dragon to afflict Job with physical suffering to match his emotional and mental anguish. Ever had a season like this?

And while Job's wife, no doubt an emotional wreck in her own right, encouraged her husband to curse God and die already, Job wouldn't. And over the next thirty-six chapters, Job and his friends wrestle with the mind and movement of Creator God here in the dirt and our responses to Him.

You'll have to read it to see how it ends.

But for me, in this season, it absolutely stirs my soul with a desire to suffer-long like Job. To be so enmeshed in my faith, that the loss of every physical blessing is simply a push toward the anti-snake, the One who brings order out of chaos, the Redeemer-Savior.

It's a reminder to be earnestly grateful, with a boldness that surpasses the grievance mindset of our broken world endlessly breaking itself over venomous ideologies that strive to divide us up into skin and votes and classes and creeds, or philosophies that offer neither brotherly love nor motherly wisdom. Instead of looking down this season, I want to be grateful for my little old house, my deepening relationship with my wife, the blessing of my kids, and the thread of faith woven through my DNA and stitched into my very being and breathing.

How's your soul this holiday season?

What are you grateful for in the midst of wounds and struggles and fears?

No, I don't want to be Job. But I do want to be like him.

imago Dei & Creating Controversy

One of the things I love about the arts is also a pseudo-controversial one today.

See, I believe that you and I, we’re imago Dei. We’re created in the image of an Eternal God. Considering that we have one source to our lineage, no matter how complex our unique tribe and tongue historical journeys have been, we’re connected. Rooted. Not necessarily in experience, though more than you and I will ever understand. But rooted in being.

And our innate desire to create in our context is the overflow of this ancient journey.

From those ancient drawings in those caves in France. To the massive stone structures at Gobekli Tepe. We create. And when we create and travel and meet and lay down new roots, we share and learn and we adopt and adapt. This is the nature of creating something “new.” This is the nature of creating alongside others who were also made in the image of a creative Creator.

Who or what is inspiring you to create what you’re creating right now?

Who are you flattering with your ideas, designs, and works? Who’s flattering you with the work they're doing inspired by your own?

At the end of the day, there isn’t a single thing any of us are wearing, eating, displaying, driving, utilizing, or being entertained by that doesn’t have roots beyond and before us.

Let’s lean in. Adopt. Adapt. And build.

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Wanna spend some time brainstorming, discovering, reframing, goal setting, and clarifying your current creative season or project? Reach out at creativistacoaching.com and let's spend a season exploring together.

Doesn't Get Much Better Than Now

I don't know about you but the least sexy, the least adventurous, the least exhilarating mountain-top engaged spiritual writing experiences have yet been some of the most fruitful and rewarding.

When I set out years ago to discover the writing habits of dead authors (and some living ones too) I had in mind images of authors spending weeks by the ocean, skipping meals, writing by candlelight, sucking down coffee by the yak-load, and finally emerging from the shadows with perfect manuscripts ready for print and universally cherished by their editors, publishing companies, and even themselves.

Turns out I was a little off the mark with that assessment.

Don't get me wrong. There are some incredible works produced through some incredibly quirky circumstances, but for the most part, the longest lasting, timeless, most endearing, impactful, ultimately memorable contributions have been the result of people simply putting in the work despite their circumstances. Instead of waiting for inspiration to strike by the ocean, they simply made time to recreate the ocean in their mind (or whatever their muse-like inspiration was), sit down, then bring it life several hundred words at a time until the work was done.

And then rise and do it again.

And again.

And you know what? Some of the shine can wear off in the process.

By the time the seventh draft of chapters 17-21 are complete, the adventure can feel more like the end of a long road-trip in a broke-down station wagon running on fumes and without AC in the throes of an Ohio summer in August. Right? Know what I mean? Deadlines and personal accountability and healthy habits and alternate projects and jobs and family routines and running out of coffee or toilet paper... real life in the valley consumes the mountain top high of a fresh work in progress.

And, yet, at the end of it all, the fruit of a project well produced in the slog of a daily rhythm is undoubtedly better than waiting for the beachfront property to come available for that three-week personal writing fest that never actually materializes. And the stories you write in your mind, at your desk, each and every day, word count by word count... these are the products that you not only build one day at a time, but products that build you into the writer, the creative who out-creates the one still waiting for the perfect circumstances to create.

Listen, sometimes, for some authors past or present, those whimsical beachside, mountain-top, foreign-culture writing fantasies become real writing experiences. Awesome. But for most of our favorite authors through time and space, they simply clocked in at work then came home, shared in life with their families and, when time and space allowed, sat down and wrote after the kids went to bed. Sexy? Nah. Fruitful? Absolutely.