~ God told me to be an artist, week 10
Friday 3rd February.
I feel I have a lot to explain this week when it comes to this blog, the title and the cover image they are all a bit strange aren't they? This week was wonderfully bizarre so it seems only fitting that the blog matched this.
I'll start with the title, there's a hammock on my laptop, I got a word from one of my good friends Kirsty after our prayer group. She commented that she had a picture in her mind as we were praying for me of a hammock stretched across a laptop and that Jesus was inviting me to rest in him instead of trying to force my way through all that has been in my heart with work in this season.
Now as generous and kind a gesture this is, it goes completely against my internal rhythm and structure. I'm a grafter, I wade through the trenches until I figure it out, usually at the expense of my body, mind and spirit. It seems I am somewhat of a glutton for punishment, a addict of the grind. I like to push myself to the limits, but also unhealthily beyond it into something dangerous. I like to be in control.
The problem with this way of operating is that you are significantly limited in what you can actually achieve. Don't get me wrong, human strength can produce fairly impressive things however, it is never going to compare to the supernatural possibilities of partnering with the maker of the universe, the original creator. When I receive a dream or a vision from God of what could happen in my life and through my life I begin almost immediately to analyse through the lens of human potential. I ask myself the following questions, could I actually do this? Would this be possible given my current qualifications? I usually end up at the same final question, do I have the resource to do this?
The answer to all of these is usually no, or definitely no if I think about doing it alone. Another interesting thought process I often have is starting to imagine myself doing all I could dream about and how people will admire me if I do in my own strength. My perfectionism kicks in.
The truth is, the internal base of perfectionism is rooted in the need for human approval in order to be valid. If you struggle with perfectionist tendencies the gift of an image or vision from God can easily become tainted by selfish desires. In my mind a dream can become warped or beaten into submission by the real root of perfectionism, crippling self esteem. A once spectacular picture quickly fades into a lost potential, a forgotten dream, trampled by human dysfunction. How sad.
As you read this you've likely experienced something like this yourself. Whether you believe in God or not dreams can pass you by because of fear, rationalisation or the limits of perfectionism. It's painful to allow the rivers within you to wash them away, but faced with a deep struggle and potential failure many of us choose to release our dreams back into the ether, hoping no one will judge us for letting them go.
So what's this got to do with a hammock on a laptop? I thought about this image a lot after hearing it. I thought about the invitation to sit, be still and listen to what God has to say about my dreams as opposed to batting them away almost instantly. I'm in a new season after all I thought, perhaps this is the time to allow some space between dreaming and deciding whether it's practical or not. When I worked in HMP Pentonville we worked with many individuals who struggled to manage their anger. We would run relaxation, mindfulness and various other courses that helped people learn how to create space between a rising feeling and their physical response to it. We would explain that if we're able to broaden the gap between feeling and response we have more time to decide how we are going to act. Perhaps it was my turn to listen to my own advice, I realised that I need to learn how to create space between my dreams, the emotions they engender and my response to them.
Maybe this was where the hammock came in? That maybe God was inviting me to sit with him whilst he either shows me more of what's to come or strengthens me to endure the unknown a little longer.
As I mentioned last week I have a rising sense that something is on the horizon, that if I can continue to bare this in-between space I will see the miraculous on the other side. I always have the option of tapping out or trying to push through in my own strength, but what about trying something new?
What about resting in Him? What about allowing his peace to wash over me as I feel restless? What about allowing him into the places in my heart and mind that don't believe these dreams will come true? What about climbing into this hammock and spending more time in stillness with him? What about remembering that his strength is made perfect in my weakness?
What about allowing myself to not be the answer, but look to the one who is?
Ouch, that last one hurt. I've been figuring my life out for so long when no one asked me to. I've been fighting against a cruel and relentless tide for so long.
So what about it? What about climbing into the boat with Jesus and allowing him to calm the waves. What about spending time with him and allowing him to show me what to do and where to go.
I know I have my role, my part to play, but it seems that previously I've been trying to play all the parts, including God's, no wonder everything has felt capped or like it has an expiration date, I can't do everything. I'm not God. None of us are.
Now I promised I'd explain the cover image too. February 1st begins the month of Februllage. A daily collage challenge brought to us by Edinburgh Collage Collective and Scandinavian Collage Museum. It has a prompt for every day in February and invites collage artists of all levels to participate and share their creations. I love it, and this year I've made space to actually do it which is very exciting!
Here's the prompt sheet for this year if you want to give it a go.
As you can see, the first prompt was FISH. I looked through my collage supplies and felt a bit stumped for a while. I decided to make an A6 postcard a day for the challenge but couldn't figure out how I was going to make a good fish collage.
I do what I always do when I'm a bit creatively stumped I just look through magazines, take my time and wait for inspiration to hit.
I couldn't seem to get going so I began cutting out images that caught my eye. As the pile grew the images started to speak to one another and I began to see how things could work. I tried a few variations but eventually realised I wanted to use the image of the deckchairs by the water and put the fish on them instead on in the sea. The phrase, like a fish outta water, sprung into my mind and I knew I was onto something.
I printed a picture of 2 sardines at the size I needed them and spliced the image so I could sink them into their deckchairs. Here's the final image again.
I giggled to myself, the image is just like me, in a place I normally wouldn't be or survive, like a fish outta water, surprisingly still here, still going. I looked again at the sardines reclining in their chairs and thought about the hammock word I'd received from Kirsty. Everywhere I looked and in the art I was making there was an invitation to be still, to pause and know that in the rest would be where I would find the answers I was searching for. I love it when themes emerge when God is trying to communicate something to you. The consistency of this message to rest still leaves me feeling a little unsure, a little uncomfortable, but hey, this new territory has been about what this discomfort can teach me and what God is going to do through it.
I sit here still knowing that there will be a moment soon where all I'll be able to say in awe and disbelief, God did it.
So for now, I'll keep pressing on, asking him what part he needs me to play and spend a more time with him in the stillness as he guides me through.
Like an image of a fish in a deckchair, it shouldn't work, but somehow it does.
See you next week, Cath x
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