How Christ Defeated Nature's Laws:

Nature is cyclical. She is a never-ending machine that favors no one. We all know this very well; we all are set to die. We all are awaiting a call that tells us a loved one is dead; we are all marching with hearts like muffled drums to the grave. Nature is cyclical, and she waits for no one.

I was born of dust, and to dust I will return. The first law of thermodynamics states that energy cannot be created or destroyed but only transferred.

My dark brown, curly hair is an energy that was not created but only borrowed from the earth. My fingernails, bitten down and ugly as they are, are fingernails borrowed from the earth. My entire body -- an empty shell -- has a debt to pay back to nature. Physically, I am made up of organic matter that will bend down and let the mud cover itself again, to be renewed sometime in the unforeseen future.

This philosophy is disturbing to humankind. We don't want to be part of a merciless, impersonal machine that never ends but always grinds. Do you know why we believe nature to be cruel? Did you ever stop to consider that animals don't struggle against the cruelty of nature? They don't buy anti-aging creme, they don't gather up riches, they don't strive for fame. Animals don't have souls like humans do; they aren't disturbed by merciless nature.

We are disturbed because we know, deep in our hearts, that every one of us was meant for more than just being a husk blown away in the wind. We were meant for more than to worship something impersonal; indeed, our hearts were designed to worship One who embodies the thought of "personal". God is love. And He loves you. Know that you weren't created to be a faceless, nameless part of a machine. To Him, you are individual, precious, and beloved -- no matter what you might have done, or what you might look like. You are a unique piece of art and God has placed you over His mantle; the highest place of honor.

Nature is cruel in her beauty. Without Christ, we are no better than the husks that cover our souls. Without Christ, I am only a type of animal with dark brown curly hair and bitten-down fingernails. But WITH Christ, I am a human loved by the creator of everything.

It took an immortal being to stoop down and succumb to nature's cycle to be able to make me human.

Isaiah 58

...is such a good chapter. That chapter God put on my heart last night and I've been reading it all day. This is what I want my life to look like. God did not call me for a life of only humility, but a life of offering all I have to others. That is my passion because that was Christ's passion. I will deny myself for the exaltation of my lowly brothers.

Today has been fulfilling so far. I cried in my last great text class. My professor is an amazing man of God. One of my friends in the class asked after his lecture, "How should we live?"

He smiled at her, and his eyes began to tear up. "My reply to that is not my own, you should know. What I'm about to say are the words of Christ to his disciples. 'Man should not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'"

I saw the look in his eyes and I knew he was speaking through the Spirit. And so I cried at the beauty of it all; of having a spiritual professor who spoke truth to me twice a week. God, I am so grateful for that man.

He spoke today about Christian artists; our calling, our art, our culture. Lately I've been really hating postmodernist culture in America; it's focus on self, self, self, self, self, experience of self, moments of self, reflection on self, expression of self. It's sickening how much selfishness is rampant in our generation and our culture. Especially in the arts. My professor said that denying the culture and showing Truth in it's purest form is the moral duty of Christian artists. I looked over to my friend Chloe who is an art major, and I grinned and said something like, "Isn't that just perfect? My whole life I've wanted to go against culture. Now I'm told it's my moral duty as a Christian artist to stand up against culture and show it the face of truth!" and we both got excited.

So now I'm seriously reflecting on the art I've created and how it relates to God. And I'm contemplating future projects and how they correspond to showing God's Truth to postmodernity. It's my moral duty; my beloved obligation and occupation.

As an artist, I strive not to express myself. I strive instead to stand and point with all my strength towards the One who gives me life abundantly. With all I am, I will proclaim that I am nothing and that He is all, and that all glory belongs to Him, and Him alone.

I can't think of any better way to show Truth to a culture devoted to self.

God's done it again.

Excerpt from an "introspection session" I wrote down on May 17, 2010.

"I need to know Jesus Christ more personally. The Holy Spirit, as well. Months ago, I had a very brief dream of standing on a warm, wooden boat. Across from me stood Jesus; he was a worn-looking man. He bent over to pick up a block of wood and a hammer. He then looked up at me, and asked for my help. My dream ended right there. I want to know this man, who needs my help. I want to help him, I really do. But I don’t know a thing about building boats – whatever metaphor that might mean. But he has started a work, and he’s asking for my help in completing it. As I wrote down this last sentence, I’m struck with the idea that maybe he has been working in the Acts arts ministry and he’s asking for my help there. My insecurities about prophetic arts are my insecurities about building a boat – I feel unprepared. Is Jesus asking me to just jump in? I think so. I believe so. Father, prepare me. I think that my journey into the prophetic arts will bring me closer and closer to Jesus. Father, tell me what to do. Holy Spirit, guide my hands as I paint. Guide my thoughts to you constantly. I pray that these sessions of introspection help develop what I paint. Jesus, tell me what to do and where to go. I want to love you, and I want to help you in what you’re doing. I want to be reassured that all of this is real and not something I’m imagining. I’m so scared of waking up in a box of my own making. But you are a God of love; something completely different than any other religious god ever created by man. Even if I do wake up in a box, at least my time spent will not be entirely wasted. May my art do what it is meant to do in your will and your path for my life and for the lives of others around me. Even if it means painting scenes of my own desolation; of my own insecurity, of my own pain, of my own doubts; let all I have glorify you. "

God is good. Seriously. I was struggling hardcore with the new concept of prophesy and whether to trust it or not. But as evidenced by this excerpt, I just jumped in because I was so sick of thinking about every detail. And now look at me. I'm in love with Jesus. I paint every time I worship (with or without canvas and paint). Life has never been more beautiful and I've never felt more relaxed and happy and fulfilled.

Wovenhand - Orchard Gate

Orchard Gate

....
At the orchard gate today
Was that tomorrow
Istenem
Make a fire
Kiss your heart
Risha
Arabic for feather

....
In this way my love
Whispers to me
Warm, beloved and still
In this way my love
Come to me

....
In a language of two hands
This
A strange poetry

....
She is turning
Turning in
From all the temples of old
From all the holds
In which its stowed
Turning into gold

....
In his way through
A sacred dimension
Not by might
Not by power
By his spirit
His loving intention

Further Up, Further In

Meditation time yesterday was awesome.
I was listening to cello music and meditating on the music and it felt like I was back at the Shire -- that kind of music just inspired my imagination to jump to the Shire. And all of a sudden, I was. I was standing in the midst of my favorite field at night, walking steadily through the grass barefoot, towards the moon. As I was walking, I felt a star fall above me, and it's brightness enveloped me. Not only did it cover me, it kept an unbroken line between me and the star in the sky. I kept walking, but I noticed other figures sprouting up around me; other people in my life. One by one, they were enveloped by their own falling star's bluish-white light.
While meditating, I lazily wondered what the falling star could mean. With a jolt, I broke out of meditation with the idea of the Biblical character Abraham in my head. The age-old covenant: "I will make your descendants greater than the stars..."
I am promised to God's ancient covenant with Abraham, my ancestor. I am a descendant of Abraham, bought through the covenant blood of Christ. I am one of the stars in the sky, walking steadily towards the moon (in my little mind the moon represents Christ) with fellow brothers and sisters.
What a beautiful God we share, brothers and sisters. Let's continue walking in the solid comfort of the covenant of Christ. Further up, further in!

Learning

I am in a constant state of learning. I am in a constant state of awe.
God has sat me down on his lap, with a big book in his hands, and is reading aloud to me as I laugh with glee at the excitement of the story and of the experience of being taught.
Jesus has been prodding my heart more and more everyday to read more about Him and about His ministry in the gospels. And I've been LOVING it. When I'm stressed or frustrated I can easily take a step back, close my eyes, and let my imagination take me to the Shire, where I find my Savior waiting for me with open arms and a smile of love.
He has so much to teach me, and I'm so willing to learn. Lately I've been sluggishly reading through the Book of John. The reading has been slow because I want to truly relish what Jesus said and taught. Instead of thinking things like, "Jesus was mysterious; I should be mysterious and stuff, too" my mind has begun changing into a different mindset; a mindset of automatically looking towards the root of the matter and how Jesus dealt with it, how Jesus taught it, and how then I can conform to Jesus in love and awe. It's difficult, but fun.

------------------------------

Once, months ago, I was a child sitting alone in a forest trying to convince herself that even though she had no idea where she was, she was alright. And that she wasn't alone. Months ago, I was a child sobbing in a vast wilderness, crying out for help, for security, for comfort, for LOVE. Weeks ago, I found a hand dripping with blood that took my tiny hand and lead me out of that wilderness and into a fenced-off area. I realized that the fence wasn't a barrier keeping me from the wilderness, but that the fence was a strong protector guarding a precious treasure from the wilderness. Not only was it protecting me, but I finally knew something I never knew before. I knew where I was. I knew that I was home. And though sometimes I wander back into the grey wilderness, I can still find that fence; I can still find my home.

Art

Jesus scribbled in the sand. No one knows what he drew or wrote, but everytime I read that passage I audibly groan in frustration because I want to know so desperately what the King of Kings bent down to write in the sands that day.
I wish I could be present there, just to peek over His shoulder and see. But, knowing Jesus, he would probably just be swirling his finger in the dirt to make squiggles and then He'd look up at me and laugh at the look of childish disappointment on my face. "Come on, Katie," He'd say, straightening up. "You're focusing too much on my drawing. That's not why it was drawn."
And then I'd look up, and see the entire situation: the Pharisees annoyed by Jesus's playing in the sand, the woman thrown into the dirt, the 10 words Jesus spoke so poignantly: "He who is without sin may cast the first stone." The words are what matter; the message is what matters. The drawing is just another utensil.
This morning, I realize that my mind and art needs to conform more to Jesus. It's all about the message, not the visible form.

Today is just glorious. What a beautiful God we have.

Purged, purified, refined

"Those who have insight among the people will give understanding to the many; yet they will fall by the sword and by flame, by captivity and by plunder for many days. Now when they fall they will be granted a little help, and many will join with them in hypocrisy. Some of those who have insight will fall, in order to refine, purge, and make them pure until the end time; because it is still to come at the appointed time." Daniel 11.33-35

I am in the process of being purged of sin, purified from its' remains, and refined in Christ. I am a rough playing piece that needs slivers cut from it to fit perfectly into the slot designed for me. My life right now is a process, and I accept that with open arms. I used to believe that I had to be perfect for God to love me. Today I rebuke that lie and I run to Jesus, covered in grime and sobbing. I cannot make myself perfect, no matter how hard I try; and now I know sweet Jesus is smiling and refining me. Every day is a war against the fleshly body I live in, but now I have God on my side.

Peace, be still

"We are apt to imagine that Jesus Christ constrains us, and we obey Him, He will lead us to great success. We must never put our dreams of success as God's purpose for us; His purpose may be exactly the opposite. We have an idea that God is leading us to a particular end, a desired goal; He is not. The question of getting to a particular end is a mere incident. What we call the process, God calls the end.
What is my dream of God's purpose? His purpose is that I depend on Him and on His power now. If I can stay in the middle of the turmoil calm and unperplexed, that is the end of the purpose of God. God is not working towards a particular finish; His end is the process -- that I see Him walking on the waves, no shore in sight, no success, no goal, just the absolute certainty that it is all right because I see Him walking on the sea. It is the process, not the end, which is glorifying to God.
God's training is for now, not presently. His purpose is for this minute, not for something in the future. We have nothing to do with the afterwards of obedience; we get wrong when we think of the afterward. What men call training and preparation, God calls the end." - My Utmost For His Highest, July 28

Way to stab me in the heart, God. As I was falling apart worried over my future and letting myself become overwhelmed with all the things I have to accomplish for my life, You threw this at me and told me "Peace, be still. Watch the garden grow." He has told me what I am intended for in my life; but now He has told me to wait and be still. I want to rush out and find studio space and get started with my life's ministry but now I realize all too suddenly that it's better to sit back and listen to the Gardener before I start planting on my own without His direction.
Okay, Abba, I'm taking this one day at a time. One hour at a time. I have come to realize that this process -- this training You're putting me through -- is my purpose. This is your ministry. Thank you.

I am love, and I have always loved you.

Went to encounters tonight and had an awesome vision I can't shake.

I am an empty, dusty clay cup. Formless and without beauty, I am simply a cup. My brim is cracked and my inside is clogged with dust and dirt that is caked to the bottom. I have a purpose, but I haven't been used for a very long time.
But now -- what's this? A clear pitcher is being lifted and poured over me. I am being filled with cold, fresh water. There's no way it can pry the dirt caked in my insides. But somehow -- miraculously -- it does. The scum quivers and parts, floating to the surface of the water being continuously poured in me. I am being filled. Not only am I being filled, but also filled to the brim. No, wait -- the water is overflowing, pouring out over my edges. The cracks in my brim are in the process of being cleaned and smoothed over. The scum that used to be caked in the bottom is being poured out onto the ground and the water that has filled me is completely clear.
As it pours out of me, though, I see brilliant colors in the water. I focus in on the colors and they are dazzlingly vivid...so much so that it's mesmerizing. I forget that I am watching water and before I know it, the water has transformed into thick paint spilling out of me at a tremendous pace.

My God has replaced the dirt in my life with his colors, his paint, and his calling on my life.

My weekend

On Friday, my God humbled me.
Saturday, I humbly looked to Him and he showed me the frail butterfly and told me to have courage. I do not have a spirit of timidity. I have a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline. This is who I am in Christ, who has called me to a life of adventure in His name.
Saturday night, I threw everything away. Everything that I considered to be me I tossed to the sky and raised my hands, simply requesting that I be used. In that windy field of golden grain, I met with Jesus Christ and gave him back the talent he had first given me. This earthly body I have now is just an empty shell; a pitiful housing for Something unspeakably radiant and immortal. I sobbed in that field -- not from sorrow, but from pain. What I saw was so beautiful it caused me pain when I realized I would never have the perfect words to tell others. The pain of Beauty is a cleansing wound.
Sunday morning, I woke up dead. I died in order to live a new freedom.

I am nothing. Thou art all.

Lots of good things going on in my life. I have a job that guarantees me 30 hours a week where I look at art all day. I'm going to a church that is gradually stealing my heart. God has been hard at work breaking down the last few barriers in my life so I can be the person I'm supposed to be.

And those barriers are tough. Honestly, I don't know what those barriers could be. Father, show them to me. Show me what barriers are in my way from becoming who I'm meant to be in Your kingdom. I yearn to throw my entire life into your hands, but Father, something is keeping me from doing that. Help me see the barriers I have placed in front of myself. I pray that you break them down completely, because I am so ready to accept the destiny you have given me.

I suppose what I'm really asking is that I be broken. Father, the image of a solitary tree in a thunderstorm has been on my mind lately these past few weeks. I am that tree. You are the storm. Wash over me; let it flood. I pray that my limbs bow and break in the wind. But Heavenly Father, I pray that while I am being nearly uprooted, that the storm will pass and that the rain will bleed into the earth and restore me. I pray the rain of blood will wash over me and cleanse my soul. Erase what I have been dirtying myself with.

I refuse to be complacent any longer. I'm in, God. Help me out.