Selah

My favorite find from today's walk

"God writes straight in crooked lines, and man cannot evaluate them as he lives on one level and can see from only one perspective. We are not the final arbiter of meaning. What looks absurd within the limits of time may be luminous within the scope of eternity."

Abraham Joshua Heschel, A Passion For Truth

Millie, my Granddaughter

Bookmarks for Christmas

Yesterday began week two of Christmas break. There's coffee and books, midday walks in the wood, and painting. There is also time to rest, and think. Yesterday I read- "The decisions you make today will impact someone's tomorrow."

Derwin L. Gray.

I've been looking at the symbolic meanings of the Hebrew characters in the word 'selah'. Somewhat of a mystery to scholars, the word is a musical notation whose meaning has wandered. Selah is composed of three characters. The first letter, the samech, was the picture of a hand on a staff; symbol of support, cycle, ring. The lamed, an ox goad, symbolized learning and teaching, control and authority. The final character, the heh, represented arms extended and symbolized spirit, wind and word. Pause, crescendo or musical interlude are the translations most agreed upon.

I think it's good to have words that cause us to stop.

They are like finding the perfect pebble.

Here are a few photos of the wood where I walk:

Birthdays

My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow in the sky;

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old, or let me die!

The child is father of the man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

William Wordsworth

1804

A short note to those I teach-

The world you know will change and you will wonder where it went.

I blew candles out tonite. Again. How quickly the annual lighting occurs. The significance of a birthday changes every year. This year I wondered, "Why candles?" (My cake had only 3 this year, probably due to budget and fire code).

Nostalgia is dangerous. Today it occurred to me that when a student talks about a former teacher they 'loved', they almost always mention a specific assignment associated with that teacher. The sum of said teacher becomes encapsulated within said assignment and that teacher is wonderful. I wonder if I have any of those students out there? Or, better yet, I wonder how many of those former teachers were told they were wonderful in the moment. I confess to having former students who were wonderful and I never told them so. The danger of nostalgic memory? Singular moments glorify or vilify people.

Slowly, I am beginning to understand some of my students.

Here's a thought from C.H. Spurgeon-

"We are foolish to expect to serve God without opposition; the more zealous we are, the more sure are we to be assailed by the myrmidons of hell."

myrmidon \ˈmər-mə-ˌdän, -dən\

one who executes without scruple his master's command

Reality

"You are an endless ocean and a bottomless sea.

Your thoughts define me, this is my reality."

Jonathan David Helser

antique n-tk

Of, or belonging to, the past; not modern.

By definition I am an antique, though I am wrestling with that title. The young people who fill my classroom don't care much for antiques. They are, in many ways, as much a mystery to me as I to them. Therein lies my dilemma- relevance without compromise, i.e., meeting them where they are while maintaining righteous standards. It is difficult for this old dog to teach these young dogs old tricks in new ways. But, I am learning that attentiveness is a reciprocal arrangement. The level of a student's attention toward me is directly related to mine toward them. I watch them. I listen to them. Theirs is a world of witches and vampires, violence and drugs, sex and crude humour. I feel ill equipped. That is precisely where Christ fills the moment. He speaks to me in ways I can relate. Wednesday morning He yelled at me.

I was reading Mark, chapter eight- the account of Jesus feeding 4,000 people with 7 loaves of bread and 'a few fish'. After this miraculous banquet, Jesus and His motley crew climbed into a boat. The story unfolds in verse 14-

'And they (the disciples) had forgotten to take bread; and did not have more than one loaf in the boat with them. And He (Jesus) was giving orders to them, saying, "Watch out! Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of Herod." (Religion and Government, but that's another lesson He is trying to teach me!) And they began to discuss with one another the fact that they had no bread. And Jesus, aware of this, said to them, "Why do you discuss the fact that you have no bread? Do you not yet see or understand? Do you have a hardened heart?"'

(And then, Jesus spoke the next verse to me, loudly!)

"Having eyes, do you not see? And having ears, do you not hear? And do you not remember...?

He is still trying to teach me the fact of His sufficiency; His ability to exceed the visible 'possibilities' I call facts. I had been fretting over the amount of gas in the car ( at the current price, we use $10.00 daily). I had been struggling with issues of relevance and generational discrepancies in my classroom- a separation of almost four decades.

Eyes. Ears. Memory.

I am concerned for my students. On an infinitely higher level, so is Jesus. So, tomorrow I will put my armour on, go back to the classroom and watch and listen and remember.

Taking off Shoes

"Earth's crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God; and only he who sees takes off his shoes; the rest sit around it and pluck blackberries."

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Last night I decided I would stay home today. A 3-day head cold had peaked. But, this morning I felt better and I went to work. As I was driving in, contemplating the difference one day makes, the Spirit of God said, "Don't make tomorrow decisions based on today circumstances" (a variation on Matthew 6:34).

Being teachable is hard. Being teachable while teaching is harder. But, this week while teaching, I learned something; this week I remembered something (maybe learning is a form of remembering)- we all want to be heard. From the hungry babe to the elderly parent, our voice goes out. The word therapy comes from the greek word- therapeia, which means 'to be attentive to'. May I see with my ears as I remove my shoes.

"L'art c'est un combat- dans l'art il faut y mettre sa peau."

(Art is a battle- it costs one the skin off one's back)

Millett

gestalt

Random thoughts regarding value keep showing up. I just read that the monetary value of the elements found in the average human has been placed at $4.50 (depending on the daily market). Obviously, the

intrinsic value of a human being is of infinite worth. Years ago I read a story about an artist who kept one of his own paintings hanging above his drawing board. One day a man came to his studio and, after looking around, asked, "How much for that one?" He was pointing to the painting above the drawing board. "It's not for sale." The man, quite wealthy, pulled out his checkbook and said, "You

don't understand, just name the price and I will pay it." The artist smiled as he looked at the painting and said, "No, you don't understand. That painting makes me happy. It keeps me going. It is not for sale, at any price."

One of the joys of a teacher is watching students grow into their potential. My students keep me going. They keep me humble. Here's a lesson I learned last week- learning is based on receptivity. My receptivity, my willingness to receive is directly related to whether the lesson offends me, and, the level of offense.

Last week, one of my students looked me in the eye and said, "I liked my old art teacher better." How do you respond to

that? I said, "O.K." Later, that same week, a parent let me know that one of my lesson choices was wrong and offered a 'better' alternative. In both instances I immediately took offense. For days I chewed on their words and came to this conclusion- taking offense is a choice, a cognitive reaction that is possible to overrule. In a moment of time I can delay my response or remain silent- an aspect of "taking every thought captive." Then I can learn from someone's comment (or opinion). Who knows? Maybe God is trying to teach me how to teach.

"I know, O LORD, that a man's way is not in himself; nor is it in a man who walks to direct his steps. Correct me, O LORD, but with justice; not with Thine anger, lest Thou bring me to nothing."

Jeremiah 10:23,24

Relevance

Recruitment Ad for Antarctic Expedition

Sir Ernest Shackleton, 1914

"When first conceived, an idea is a breakthrough; once adopted and repeated, it tends to become a cul-de-sac." Abraham Joshua Heschel

After fourteen months of unemployment, I am teaching again. Last week I wanted to quit. That, I suppose, is the life of a teacher. Like Sir Shackleton's description of an expedition, the wages tend to be small (no one becomes a teacher for the pay- you can make more money by managing a Taco Bell) with long months of complete darkness. But then it happens, the moment every true teacher yearns to see- the phenomenon known as the 'aha' moment, when the veil is parted and the light comes on. In my life, the Lord puts enough distance between the 'aha's' to keep me going (too many, too often might make me prideful).

During the summer, while still unemployed, I was visiting Hugh Gill. He looked at me and said, "You will be teaching soon, but not like you've ever taught before." He spoke prophecy over me that day. Now I am teaching with the good folk at Trinity Christian Preparatory School, or Trinity Prep for short. It is an amazing and challenging place. The old ways of teaching seem different here. Some of them don't work at all. Hugh was right. I have been praying for strategy. God is re-teaching me how to teach. Yesterday He reminded me that He made my students uniquely unique- as only He does. I cannot approach them with a 'bread' recipe, i.e., "If I follow these steps a perfect loaf will result." No, if I can teach them anything it will be to embrace their uniqueness, to explore the possibilities of what it means to be made in the image of God, the possibilities God Himself has instilled within them. The methodology then will not be learner-based or curriculum-based but God-based outcome.

There is a war being waged against our youth. The forces of darkness are building walls, attempting to erect gates around young minds. In 1986 Elie Wiesel was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his book Night. As he accepted the award he said this:

"We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Sometimes we must interfere."

"This is the rock on which I will put together my church, a church so expansive with energy that not even the gates of hell will be able to keep it out. "

Matthew 16:18

The Message

Portrait of a Student

Alex Jamison

Bearing Reality

1909-S V.D.B.

Designer: Victor David Brenner

Diameter: 19 millimeters

Metal content:
Copper - 95%
Tin and Zinc - 5%

Weight: 48 grains (3.11 grams)

Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children

Hidden, excitedly, containing laughter.

Go, go, go said the bird; human kind

Cannot bear very much reality.

Time past and time future

What might have been and what has been

Point to one end, which is always present.

T S Eliot- Four Quartets: "Burnt Norton" (1935)

Last night I asked my Dad about the time he bought a penny for a hundred dollars. He went to the bank and asked to borrow $100.00 (in the 1960's you could actually do such a thing). The banker behind the desk was a doodler- scribbling and drawing on a pad while talking to customers. Without looking up, he asked, "What do you want it for?" "I want to buy a penny" said my Dad. The banker stopped doodling and looked up. "Carter, your crazy." And with that my Dad borrowed $100.00 and bought a 1¢ piece- a 1909-S VDB. I still remember the first time he showed it to me. I asked why it cost so much. "It's rare" he said. "The mint only made 484,000." That sounded like a lot to me. Years later he sold it, for $100.00. In his words, "I had three kids who needed groceries." At the time, that amount was equivalent to a monthly mortgage payment.

The 1909 VDB penny was revolutionary- it was the first time in US history an actual person's image (Abraham Lincoln) was placed on a coin for circulation. In February, 2001, a 1909-S VDB penny, Grade MS-66, sold at auction for $5,750.00. It is a curious thing to me, the way we humans assign value to things, from the price of a penny to a loaf of bread. My prayer list grows daily with the names of friends and family, every name representing a soul with needs. A few of the names have dire financial needs and, at the moment, their value as human beings appears depreciated- perhaps, in their minds, worth less than certain pennies. Visible reality has a way of overshadowing the Reality Christ carries. "What a fathomless wealth lies in the wisdom & knowledge of God! How inscrutable His judgements! How mysterious His methods!" Romans 11:33.

To those of you on my list, from Germantown, TN to Mobile, Alabama... to those sinking under the weight of a present reality you are unable to bear, you are much loved.

"This I know; God is on my side! I praise God for what He has promised; yes, I praise the Lord for what He has promised. I trust in God, so why should I be afraid? What can mere mortals do to me?"

Psalm 56:9-11

Armistice

“For love is exultant when it unites equals, but it is triumphant when it makes that which was unequal equal in love.” 

Sǿren Kierkegaard

“You can tie two polecats together by their tales and throw ‘em over a fence- they’re together, but they don’t have unity!” 

Julius Washington

The Lord reminded me of something that happened in Memphis, years ago. I was in Midtown pumping gas into my car when a homeless man walked up and asked, “Clean your windshield?” “I don’t have any money.” I said. “Oh, it doesn't  always have to be about that!” And, with a bottle of cleaner and crumpled newspaper, he cleaned my windshield. As he walked away, he said, “God Bless you, brother!” An unemployed, homeless man blessed me, an employed homeowner. He saw a need (my windshield was filthy) and he took care of it. As I thought about that my mind went to John 3:30, one of my life verses, and I realized- There is still a lot of Me in me! 

I hear talk of a second reformation- a time for the Church to be the Church. Perhaps the Church needs an

Armistice Day; a time for individual factions to meet on common ground at the foot of the Cross. It would, of course, have to begin with me.

Inscription dated Easter 1922

The New Testament, A New Translation by the Reverend Professor

James Moffatt, D.D., D. Litt.

Latent image \lā-t^ənt\ \ˈi-mij\ 

an invisible image, produced on a sensitized emulsion by exposure to light, that will emerge in development.

“Because God is outside the realm of time He can Kingdomize your past.”

John Cava

‘When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I argued like a child…’

I Corinthians 13:11 Moffatt

There is on my right forefinger a small scar. You would have to look closely to see it. I have other, more impressive scars.

Forehead- Montgomery Bell State Park, Church Camp

Forearm- Camp Boxwell, Boy Scouts of America

Scars happen, especially to boys. Each has a story; some are interesting, some gross, and some- just plain old dumb. The scar on my finger is the result of rebellion. Sin leaves scars. In my Junior year of High School I was handed my report card- a couple of D’s, one or two F’s. What would I say to my parents? A friend of mine had the same dilemma. One of us said, “Let’s run away!” It seemed like a good idea at the time. And that’s what we did. For me it would be the second time. He had a car and, between us, we had a few dollars. We headed south. When the car ran out of gas we left it on the side of the road. It was dark, somewhere in Mississippi, when it happened. We were walking down a two-lane road. Behind us we heard a car and stuck our thumbs out, hoping to hitch a ride. As the car passed I felt a pain across my knuckles. When I pulled my hand back I could see by the moonlight that my fingers were bleeding. The car antenna had rapped my fingers like a whip.

Now I have children. Now I understand why my parents wanted to know where I was, who I was with, what time I would be home, and why they were so upset when lied to. Now I grieve over the anxiety and pain I caused them. They were doing their utmost to be godly parents. They never did anything to deserve a prodigal son. I praise God for their patience, and their prayers. We who claim the name of Christ are, somewhat, like latent images. “At present we only see baffling reflections in a mirror, but then it will be face to face; at present I am learning bit by bit, but then I shall understand, as all along I myself have been understood. Thus, ‘faith and hope and love last on, these three,’ but the greatest of all is love.” And so, like the prodigal in Luke, chapter15, I say to my Pop, “I have sinned against heaven and against you. Forgive me.”

No Knead

id quod visum placet
'that which pleases when seen'

Thomas Aquinas' definition of beauty

Here is the easiest bread recipe I have found-

In large mixing bowl dissolve

1 pkg. dry yeast

2 tsp. salt

1 1/2 cup water

slowly add

3 cups plain flour

stir until blended, but no more

cover tightly with plastic wrap, let rise 12-14 hours

turn out onto floured countertop and using floured fingertips spread into 12" square

fold over 1/3, from left to right, repeat from right to left, forming a rectangle
cover with towel and let rest 15 minutes

Fold top 1/3 down, bottom 1/3 up, forming a square

Cover with towel, let rest 45 minutes

Place round, covered baking dish in oven, preheat to 500F

Gently place dough in baking dish, cover, reduce heat to 450F

bake 3o minutes

Remove cover, bake additional 15 minutes

Cool on rack...look for butter.

Ineluctable-
\ˌi-ni-ˈlək-tə-bəl\ impossible to avoid or evade.

“On the human imagination events produce the effects of time.”
James Fenimore Cooper, The Deerslayer, opening line

“We are so little reconciled to time that we are even astonished at it. “How he’s grown!” we exclaim, “How time flies!” as though the universal form of our experience were again and again a novelty. It is as strange as if a fish were repeatedly surprised at the wetness of water.”

C.S. Lewis, Second Meanings in the Psalms

I just received a book in the mail from someone I have not seen in years- a beautiful copy of The Deerslayer, illustrated by N.C. Wyeth. Immediately, I could see the giver’s face in my mind and hear bits of the last conversation we had. Time is strange business. I can return to a day from my childhood without leaving my chair. I can ‘foresee’ today, before it unfolds, spending time in planning and preparation. We explain time with expressions and ‘isms, like- “Time is money!” or, “I can’t afford to spend any more time on that!” (especially valid if you’ve ever ‘spent’ time in a court of law and decided to argue with the Judge). How about- “Time flies when you’re having fun!” or, the opposite, “I spent a week in that town one night!” There is time’s elusive nature- “I can never find time to do that!” And yet, for humans, time is ineluctable. Job cried, “Since his (man’s) days are determined, the number of his months is with Thee, and his limits Thou hast set so that he cannot pass.”

Being unemployed for an extended period gives a fellow opportunities to reflect; time to think about where time is being allotted. Jesus said, “for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” When I was younger I believed that time was an enemy- a deadly foe who would one day overtake me. Having passed the half-century mark, I see time as a gift- a gift I want to be a better steward of. Of course, as an artist, I continue to struggle with priority and validity- ‘Shouldn’t I be doing something worthwhile?’ (i.e., something that puts bread on the table), and the wrestling match between guilt and excuses begins another round. The making of art, in some respects, is as great a mystery to me as the making of humans by an all-sufficient, all-knowing God. Why bother? I can’t fully explain it. In fact, I remember something James Thurber said, and smile. He said, “It is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers.” And so, as a struggling artist, here are a few of the questions I ponder-

“Who is my audience?”
“What are my goals?”
“How much do I charge? Should I always charge?”
“Where do I see the art landing?”

(Is the final destination the wall of a home or museum, a book or the internet, or, should I cast the art on the surface of the waters, as Solomon suggests?)

This morning I read- “Sow with a view to righteousness, reap in accordance with kindness; break up your fallow ground, for it is time to seek the Lord until He comes to rain righteousness on you.” Hosea 10:12

Considering Emily

Lake George, New York

as seen from Black Mountain Summit

integrity \in-ˈte-grə-tē\
from Latin integritat-, integritas, from integr-, integer entire 1 : firm adherence to a code of especially moral or artistic values 2 : an unimpaired condition 3 : the quality or state of being complete or undivided

“There was never a good knife made of bad steel.”

Benjamin Franklin

“Many human desires are coterminous with their object. A person desires a good meal and- as though by magic- the person’s desire for a good meal seems to end at just about the time the good meal ends. But our desire for beauty is likely to outlast its object because, as Kant once observed, unlike all other pleasures, the pleasure we take in beauty is inexhaustible. No matter how long beautiful things endure, they cannot outlast our longing for them.”

Elaine Scarry, On Beauty and Being Just

Emily Dickinson was born on December 10, 1830. When she died, nearly fifty-six years later, Emily's sister discovered 40 hand bound volumes in a locked trunk. They contained almost 1800 poems in Emily's handwriting. That is 32 poems a year for 56 years. Emily's ability to articulate emotions astounds me. And then, she makes this statement- "I have found the words to every thought I ever had-but One-". And throughout her words is seen the enigmatic 'dash'. Deirdre Fagan said, "The dashes become a thread between the sayable and the unsayable, a caesura between life and death, a pause, a gasp, sometimes a chasm over which one must make a leap of understanding, all of which critics have pointed out."

Artists live in a world of dots and dashes (for, after all, a dash is just an impatient dot that kept going). I wonder- in the mind of an artist is the dash between needs and desires removed? Or, like a bridal veil, is the dash less rigid- more breathable- allowing reason and emotion to brush shoulders? Why write 1800 poems, without recognition or pay (published, of course, posthumously)? When I consider this I remember a Dutch painter who completed nearly 900 paintings in the last 10 years of his life, signed Vincent, and sold only one.

Integrity

According to Ezra Pound, the Chinese word for integrity is xin, a set of calligraphic 'dashes' that combine two thoughts- man and words- taken literally, a man standing by his words. Perhaps this issue is one of integrity- a knowing of purpose and staying the course. Perhaps the mystery of the creative nature is summed up in Emily's dash.

We never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies-

The heroism we recite
Would be a daily thing,
Did not ourselves the cubits warp
For fear to be a king.

Emily Dickinson
1830-1886

From Cave Art to Moon Art

Identity \ī-den-tə-tē, ə-
probably from Latin identidem repeatedly, contraction of idem et idem, literally, same and same
1 a: sameness of essential or generic character in different instances b: sameness in all that constitutes the objective reality of a thing
Merriam-Webster

To paraphrase John and Paul, "It was 40 years ago today..." I was curled up on the floor of my cousin's house in Illinois (from his front yard you could see the Gateway Arch, St. Louis), watching history in the making- a man walking on the moon. Every sci-fi book I had ever read was reality before my very eyes. Years later, my great-uncle A.W. (Ambrose Wood) met Neil Armstrong and asked for his autograph (for me). To Michael, he signed.

If you haven't read David Taylor's recent post, 3 Reasons Human (should) Make Art (click here), stop reading this and do so now.

Humans, throughout time, leave evidence behind. We are the creatures who (seemingly) find joy in the expression, "I was here." From the hand print on a cave wall to the footprint on the moon's surface, the conversation of the ages continues.

1God's glory is on tour in the skies, God--craft on exhibit across the horizon.
2Madame Day holds classes every morning,Professor Night lectures each evening.
3Their words aren't heard,their voices aren't recorded,
4But their silence fills the earth:unspoken truth is spoken everywhere.

Psalm 19:1-4 The Message

13/13

“Accept the way God does things, for who can straighten what He has made crooked? Enjoy prosperity while you can, but when hard times strike, realize that both come from God.”

Ecclesiastes 7:13,14

“Anything large enough for a wish to light upon, is large enough to hang a prayer upon: the thought of Him to whom that prayer goes will purify and correct the desire.”

George MacDonald

Today marks 13 months and 13 days of unemployment. Prior to this benchmark, my titles have included:
Grocery bagger, construction laborer, car wash manager, gas station attendant, firefighter (volunteer), photo lab technician, wedding photographer, sales clerk, stone setter, sandblaster, designer, shop foreman, diner waiter, hotel bellhop, headmaster, teacher, artist, songwriter, grand jury foreman (federal), adjunct, and unemployed.

I have made tombstones and baptistery sculpture, led small study groups in back rooms and performed for large groups on an island in the Amazon. These are the things I have pondered over this 13/13 period as I have pursued employment. I have applied for jobs that range from Toilet Cleaner to University Lecturer*, to no avail. Then, one day, the Lord said to me, “Apart from Me, you can do No thing.” Nothing.

There are vines growing in the trees beside our deck, Muscadine, I think. Vine branches are clingy. They are not particular. These branches have attached themselves to a Dogwood, Sycamore, Poplar. Wild, uncultivated vines. We are like those vine branches, making attachments to things, people, places, ideas. Terri keeps reminding me, “God has amputated us from the world.”
Pruning can be painful.

Jesus said, “I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in me, and I in him, he bears much fruit; for apart from Me you can do nothing.”

*There are interesting correlations between these two positions.

Shall the thing made say to the Maker,

"Why did you make me this way?"

Romans 9:20

"It is true that all men are created in the image of God, but Christians are supposed to be conscious of that fact, and being conscious of it should recognize the importance of living artistically, aesthetically, and creatively as creative creatures of the Creator. If we have been created in the image of an Artist, then we should look for expressions of artistry, and be sensitive to beauty, responsive to what has been created for our appreciation." Edith Schaeffer, Hidden Art

A large portion of my life has been in pursuit of all that I am not, but wish to be. One day it occurred to me, what if I pursued, and wrestled with, an understanding of what I am? What would a 100% Michael Carter look like? A creative God made me in a particular way because He had specific plans and purposes for me.

We just returned from upstate New York. For ten days we were surrounded by the glory of God known as the Adirondacks, a trip made possible by two families- the Hopkins and the Knechts. These families are starting a school, Augustine Classical Academy, and invited us to pray about becoming a part of the school faculty and family. After much prayer, conversation, more prayer, and walking the ground in a new place it has become evident that God has different plans for my family and me. But, the trip was a blessing, a gift from the Hopkins, the Knechts, and the Lord.

Former home of Kurt Vonnegut

Alplaus, NY

While there, we saw Kurt Vonnegut's former home, we explored downtown Saratoga Springs, home to Caffe Lena, America's oldest coffeehouse (where Bob Dylan was a regular and Don McLean played American Pie for the first time in public). We experienced Lake George, where we hiked Black Mountain and canoed to a few of the islands. We even spent a day in Vermont. Even now, back in South Carolina, memories flood and I thank God for allowing our lives to cross paths.

Now another chapter begins.

Benchmark

Black Mountain summit






Emma and me atop Black Mountain
Lake George, NY

Sam

Caffe Lena, Saratoga Springs, NY


'Therefore encourage one another and build up one another, just as you also are doing.'

I Thessalonians 5:11

Visibilty

Ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia.
Where Christ is, there is the Church.

“Jesus promised His disciples three things- they would be absurdly happy, completely fearless, and in constant trouble.”

F.R. Maltby

There are few things more exciting, or challenging, than watercolor painting with a roomful of five-year-olds. Ask any Kindergarten teacher. The word ‘unpredictable’ expands in meaning when you hand over cups of water and trays of paint to sixteen pairs of eager, little hands. One day, while giving an art lesson to a Kindergarten class, I asked, ”Does anyone know where color is first mentioned in the Bible?” A little girl raised her hand and said, “When God said, ‘Let there be light’.” I was stunned. My first thought was ‘Divine revelation has been granted to this child!’ Later, I remembered having presented a lesson on color theory the week prior, but, the fact that a five-year-old had seen the connection still made my heart skip a beat.

Words fascinate me. Sometimes I am curious why specific words are used, especially in Scripture. This morning I read these words in Ephesians-
‘To me, the very least of all saints, this grace was given, to preach to the Gentiles the unfathomable riches of Christ, and to bring to light what is the administration of the mystery which for ages has been hidden in God, who created all things; in order that the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known through the church to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places.’ 3:8-10.

The word translated ‘manifold’ is, in the Greek, polupoikilos. Another meaning is many-colored. The wisdom of God is many-colored, as mysterious as light itself. Painters are shadow-chasers, for, in painting, the depiction of light is realized by the shadows formed. John tells us that God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all. Just as the visible spectrum is revealed when light passes through a prism, and is but a fraction of the electromagnetic range, my visibility of the many-colored wisdom of God is revealed when I pass through the shadows of life. And sometimes it helps to talk with five-year-olds.

The Betrayal of Christ

Caravaggio

A Violent Respect

Isaiah 40:31

allegory\ˈa-lə-ˌgor-ē\
Middle English allegorie, from Latin allegoria, from Greek allēgoria, from allēgorein to speak figuratively, from allos other + -ēgorein to speak publicly, from agora assembly

1: the expression by means of symbolic fictional figures and actions of truths or generalizations about human existence ; also : an instance (as in a story or painting) of such expression

“Art never responds to the wish to make it democratic; it is not for everybody; it is only for those willing to undergo the effort needed to understand it.” Flannery O’Connor

“Scripture tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our mind, not the removing of our mind.” Steve Thompson

The Rabbis of old pursued scripture in a fourfold manner, approaching the text as though mining precious gems. First, they examined the surface; the simple or literal meaning, called Peshat. Then they considered the suggested meaning, the Remaz. The third level, Derush, was arrived at by deductive reasoning. Finally, the allegorical, Sod, was explored. The first letter of the four levels, PRDS, are the consonants in the word Paradise. If the four layers could be plumbed, it was believed that the joy of paradise would fill the soul.
As I pondered this I remembered four questions, based on the writings of Francis Schaeffer and others, I have students consider when viewing art:
1. What do I see? (Literal level)
2. What is the artist trying to say? (Suggested meaning)
3. Does the medium match the message? (Deductive reasoning)
The 4th question may be the most challenging, for it is this question that reveals the artist’s nature. Francis Schaeffer posed the question in this way-
Is the work valid?
Question 4 speaks to truth and honesty, i.e., ‘Is the artist being true to his nature and worldview or has the artist found a way to market an ability? I am not sure what the term ‘Christian artist’ means but I do have a concept of what it means to be a Christian who is an artist. It means that, as an image bearer who identifies with Christ, when I approach a canvas or digital palette, I have a responsibility to the good, the true and the beautiful. Flannery O’Connor said it this way-
“St. Thomas called art ‘Reason in making’. As grace and nature have been separated, so imagination and reason have been separated, and this always means an end to art. The artist uses his reason to discover an answering reason in everything he sees. For him, to be reasonable is to find, in the object, in the situation, in the sequence, the spirit which makes it itself. This is not an easy or simple thing to do. It is to intrude upon the timeless, and that is only done by the violence of a single-minded respect for the truth.”

Kyros and Redemption

"That which has been is that which will be, and that which has been done is that which will be done. So, there is nothing new under the sun."

Ecclesiastes 1:9

syn·tax \ˈsin-ˌtaks\

Middle French or Late Latin; Middle French sintaxe, from Late Latin syntaxis, from Greek, from syntassein to arrange together, from syn- + tassein to arrange
1 a: the way in which linguistic elements (as words) are put together to form constituents (as phrases or clauses) b: the part of grammar dealing with this2: a connected or orderly system : harmonious arrangement of parts or elements

It began, as things sometimes do, with a small thing.

On the front page of the Fort Mill Times I read Recycling Sparks Ideas For His Art. The article introduced me to Douglas Sparks, a local sculptor who recycles found objects by welding them together. For weeks I kept the article until one day I read it again. It occurred to me that I needed to meet this man. I drove to 124 Confederate Street, home to BacInTyme Coffee Cafe, where, according to the article, a few of Mr. Sparks' pieces resided. There I met the sculptures, and I met Georgia Harper Ehrenberg, founder and owner of the cafe. If you ever visit Fort Mill, SC (or if you live here), BacInTyme is a must-stop. Walking in feels like coming home, and Georgia carries the aroma of Christ. After conversation (and a good cup of coffee) Georgia told me where I could find Douglas Sparks.

A few blocks away, Mr. Sparks welcomed me as only a southern gentleman can. He said, "Pull up a chair." We talked about the hills of Kentucky and moonshine, childhood stories and cemeteries. Finally we talked about art, the thing that brought me there.

"I don't feel like making anything right now." he said.

"I know that feeling well." I said.

Time ceases to be when kindred spirits sit together. The Greeks called it kyros time- synchronicity-quality with quantity. That was last week. I saw him again yesterday. He was building deer stands. I photographed some of the yard art and asked, "Do you have a plan before you begin a piece?"

"No, I weld two things together and go from there."

"Like a story that writes itself?"

"Yeah, like that."

He smiled. I knew from the moment I saw his work that I wanted one of his sculptures. Choosing was the hard part. I don't have a yard, presently, so I leaned toward the smaller pieces- a dragonfly with knife-blade wings, a spoon-winged ladybug, a turtle with an iron skillet shell. I finally decided on 'Sparky's Firefly', a winged creature composed of a lag screw, masonry nails and butter knife blades. It makes me smile.

Elaine Scarry in On Beauty and Being Just, said, "Matisse never hoped to save lives. But he repeatedly said that he wanted to make paintings so serenely beautiful that when one came upon them, suddenly all problems would subside." There is something serenely beautiful about Douglas Sparks' sculpture, a simple elegance in redeemed metal.

BacInTyme Coffee Cafe, 124 Confederate Street

"It is the perennial debate, born in the Romantic era, between the beliefs that all creative acts are born of A) some transcendent, inexplicable Dionysian act of inspiration, a kiss from God on your brow that allows you to give the world The Magic Flute, or B) hard work."

Twyla Tharp, The Creative Habit

On Slowing Down

"Caring about what you are doing is considered either unimportant or taken for granted. On this trip I think we should notice it, explore it a little to see if in that strange separation of what man is from what man does we may have some clues as to what the hell has gone wrong in this twentieth century. I don't want to hurry it. That itself is a poisonous twentieth-century attitude. When you want to hurry something, that means you no longer care about it and want to get on to other things."

Robert M. Pirsig

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Tuesday morning was spent with Hugh Gill. It is always good to be with a godly man. The thing that impressed me most about Hugh is twofold- he loves the Lord and he is not in a hurry. I met with him to take photographs for the cover of an album he is working on; flute worship- a series of original songs performed on wooden flutes. Currently, the project stands at 4 songs, an EP. Hugh told me the final album will contain 12. He also told me he has given away hundreds of copies (I received my copy through a friend). During the conversation he would play one of his songs. He held up a small flute and said, "I think there's a song in this one." Time slowed as I listened. Several hours passed. At one point Hugh expressed concern over, in his words, a misconception among Christians. He said, "I am not a servant. I am a son of the Living God who serves, and there is a large difference." God speaks to me in a number of ways. Tuesday morning He spoke to me through Hugh Gill.

the garden

friend \ˈfrend\
from Old English frēond; akin to Old High German friunt friend, Old English frēon to love, frēo free 1 a: one attached to another by affection or esteem

"No longer do I call you slaves, for the slave does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I have heard from My Father I have made known to you."

John 15:15

Thanks to my young friend, Andrew Baur, I have a garden. In my personal effort to reclaim language, there are words I do not use lightly. The word friend is one of them. There are many acquaintances in my life....few friends. And, in the true sense of the word, that is as it should be. As I was listening to a lecture by Gregory Wolfe on beauty the word 'friend' came to mind. The lecture, The Wound of Beauty, is a must-hear (click here for free download). In this talk, Wolfe's discussion ranges from Hans Urs von Balthasar to Flannery O'Connor. His comparison of Goodness, Truth and Beauty to Faith, Reason and Imagination is marvelous. But when he began to discuss the tension in art between realism and idealism my mind said,"This applies to friendship!" I began to remember those in my life, past and present, I call friends. And I thought of Andrew. You see, the reason I have him to thank for my garden is not that he helped me plant. He encouraged me to plant. That is something friends do. Which leads me to guitars, something the Lord has used over the years to encourage me and remind me that He is a friend. Years ago I gave my guitar to someone who needed it. Time passed and a friend, knowing I did not have a guitar, gave me his. The next year we went to Brazil together on a mission trip. While there, one of our interpreters asked if he could play my guitar. As I watched him play, the Spirit of God whispered, "Give it to him." So, I did. At the time, Terri and I were teaching a couple's sunday school class. When members of the class learned what I had done they chipped in and bought me a new guitar. That one stayed with me a little longer, but, during an education conference in Moscow, Idaho, once again that still, small voice spoke and one of the teachers at the Logos school carried an Ovation guitar home. This happened while friends and I were working on an album in Memphis. And so, before the next session I asked Rusty McFarland, the studio owner, if I could use one of his guitars. He asked what happened to mine. I told him and his response was, "Humph, God would have to send me a telegram before I would give a guitar away!" A couple of days passed. Rusty called me, saying he needed to see me at the studio. I could tell from the tone in his voice something was amiss. When I walked into the studio, the expression on Rusty's face confirmed my suspicions. "This has never happened to me before," he began, paused, and continued, "but while I was in the shower this morning, God told me to give you my guitar." It was a vintage Guild, a thing of beauty. By far the best instrument I had ever held. A year passed. I was headmaster of Shekhinah, a classical Christian school. Every morning we began the day with praise and prayer, with me on the Guild, until one night someone broke into the school and stole it. When I told Rusty he cried. A few months passed and Rusty called, inviting the family to spend the weekend with he and Carol. They had moved to the country, outside Ashland City, so Rusty could be near Nashville. That weekend he presented me with another Guild, a cutaway. He had told my guitar saga to a songwriter friend of his (who toured with Reba McEntire), and after thinking about it said, "Well I've had a good year. Give him this one." It was the guitar he moved to Nashville with, the one he toured with. Years later, you guessed it, that beautiful instrument changed hands. While our oldest son, Joshua, was attending Visible School in Memphis I handed it over to him. The guitar I currently play is a joy, partially because I helped build it. The Lord may let me play this one until I can pass it on to my son Samuel. I hope so. The thing I have learned is this- friends, like the guitars in my life, come and go. My role is not Owner but Steward. And, as I grow older I understand the value in esteeming someone. So, thank you Andrew for being a friend.