I can't look to my family for spiritual heritage. My family took me to church...but only me. Or, at least, it only stuck with me. I don't have any great family history of spiritual ancestors or anything like that. My family is a place of brokenness, hurt, anger and sin.
I've never really felt like I can look to my culture, either. I'm developing some sense of cultural identity; and growing a lot in how I relate and love cross-culturally. I definitely have some cultural heritage: we're basically swimming in theologians, hymn authors, church founders, and missionaries. But for far too long my people has played a leading role in causing division and hate between groups. There's another way, and I'm seeing hints of what it is: to descend from the places of power and privilege sin has secured us and to lift others instead.
God has already healed me of so much in the short time I've been following Him, and I know that He was so much more to do in my life. He's healed me (is healing me) in areas I've had so many struggles; worship, purity, emotions.
I used to be a bit of a writer in high school. I wish I still was but I never take the time to write anymore. I guess I was okay -- certainly not amazing by any stretch of the imagination, and even "good" is giving myself a lot of credit. Though, I did once get published in our literary mag. But it was a funny poem I wrote. I mostly wrote sketches -- short stories that would just involve a few characters and one or two scenes at the most. They were very heavy mood pieces.
“Do you know how the old artists did paintings? The masters? The ones that you see in museums worth millions of dollars?”
“No,” he said.
“The ‘master’ painter would usually only paint part of each piece of work. He would start them. He would paint the main subject. Think of it was an outline of a plot to a novel. But his students would always finish those paintings, working together. Each one of them would work on a single part of it – maybe something as simple as a one-stroke blade of grass, or as complex as a lightening storm…or a face.
“The point is, these paintings are massive, corporate works. They are truly masterpieces, and not because they’re beautiful – beautiful is fleeting. It’s redefined every generation. They’re masterpieces because so many people were involved. Each person working on the canvas had their own unique style, and the masterpiece was formed by all the different people that touched it.”
“And?”
She ripped the sketch of him from her book and put it aside. Then she sketched a quick outline of a body and slid it across the table to him. “Living is simple,” she repeated. “This is you. This is you alive.” She taped the picture. “Simple. You want to know hard? Hard is filling this picture out. Hard is being someone.
“Hard is finishing this drawing. You can be anyone you want to be. You can even be the one God means you to be. God is your master painter. And each person you know will have their own affect on your life. Maybe they’ll paint a storm…or maybe a ray of sunshine. Or maybe just a blade of grass. Hard is being your masterpiece.
“Hard is not fading away into an empty, lonely world just because you’re hurt. You don’t have to be trapped by your pain. You don’t have to be trapped by who you are and who you hate. Do you have the courage for that? Maybe I’m idealistic, but I know you do.”
I've never been a big fan of poetry. I didn't like it because there was no plot, or resolution, or obvious character arcs. But I've realized more and more that my relationship with God these past few years is less of a story and more of a poem.
My heritage is God. It's this huge God and this group of people gathered together to worship Him and make His name known. Every tribe, tongue, and nation. It's 17,000 people screaming in the New Year at Urbana and it's refugees gathered outside their church in the middle of Malawi. See, I think there will be light shows and rock concerts in the new creation. But I also really look forward to the acapella and the campfires.
Palibe ofana ndi yesu. And next to Him, everything is a loss.
