Awakening to Beauty
Balthasar van der Ast Stilleven met schelpen en herfststijloos 1593-1657
It’s that time of year when our senses awaken again to beauty. Though winter has its own beauty, there is just something about spring. New life, new growth and warmth, all come together to somehow make us feel alive again after the long, dark and cold days of winter. Every time I see redbuds coming out in the spring, I cannot help but think of my mother.
She adored redbuds and every spring her enthusiasm never waned for their bright beauty and the vernal hope of spring. That woman loved beauty. Her entire life, she loved beauty. Even when she was in the middle of her battle with Alzheimer’s, she was still awake to the beauty around her. Whether it was singing a hymn, or filling her home with little trinkets that she found lovely even in her confused state… she was constantly surrounding herself with beauty even at the end.
Figures of Christ – Echoes of the Divine in Literature and Film
The Bible can be understood, in part, as the great overarching narrative of humanity’s relationship with God. It is a story in four acts: Creation, Fall, Redemption and Restoration. Woven throughout the testaments is the figure of Christ.
The figure of Christ, regardless of our understanding or knowledge of the biblical narrative, has permeated the worldview of mankind since well before recorded history. Somehow, deep in the very essence of our being we long for Messiah. We look for Him in nature and in human relationships. We see there merely echoes and fingerprints. Most of all we look for Him in our own narratives, the stories we tell ourselves and each other that help us make sense of the world, and in the stories we create to merely entertain. Joseph Campbell reduces these echoes to single idea, a hero with a thousand faces.
The Foundling House has asked a few of our readers and contributors to share their own favorite Christ figures, or Christ images from literature, film and comics. Here are some of our picks.
Read MoreFinding Wonder Every Day
As I was going through a sort of hard time in my life a little while back, I looked at the world around me, and wondered how people could be smiling and laughing and enjoying life, when my future looked so bleak. I had worked so hard to get to my job and the place where I was. But it turned out I didn’t like that place I was in, and the only way I saw to deal with it was to do just that: deal with it. Get through the days, feeling as little as possible, and trying not to think about my disappointment in the life I was living.
Working in such a secular environment, it puzzled me even further that if I was the one who was a Christian and had the light of Christ inside me, why was it that these people who didn’t know Christ had this ability to enjoy their lives so much more than I felt I was capable of? Well maybe they liked where they were. Or maybe they didn’t. But it is more probable that I was ignoring everything the Bible has ever told me about embracing life for the short time I am in this world.
You see, the Bible calls us to so much more than just getting through every day, like I was doing. We are called by the spirit to live in the moment and participate in life, because we never know what will be coming next, and we have no hope to truly control what does.
Read MoreMiracles and Monuments
Have you ever had one of those moments where you felt like you finally got what life was all about? Not just life in general, but your own specific life. Have you ever seen, just for a minute, what might be going on behind that miraculous curtain of purpose, and afterward, you knew exactly what to do next, and why? Maybe it sounds too good to be true, but I think I’ve had a few of these revelations in my life. Thing is, I don’t always recognize them while they’re happening. Like those winding mazes we used to solve on the back of a kids’ menu, sometimes the path is easier to see once we’ve made it to the end.
Read MoreAn Interview with Wild Harbors
Chris and Jenna Badeker are calling it quits. Kind of.
The husband and wife duo have been playing shows as Chris & Jenna for years in addition to other facets of their careers. Jenna has been a leading lady in a venerable big band outfit. It’s hard to tell, but there might be a picture of her meeting a president at a show. Chris maintains an inspired art and design gig. There’s certainly a picture of him with a penguin, which is nearly as cool, depending on how you feel about presidents. The running thread through all of it has been their folk-pop pairing. Now though, Chris and Jenna say Chris & Jenna are done. They’re stepping up their game with a new album under the moniker Wild Harbors, produced by Andrew Osenga.
Now entering the make-or-break week of an exciting Kickstarter campaign, the pair were kind enough to sit down and answer a number of my questions.
Read MoreA Serendipitous Meeting
Sprawled on a multi-colored quilt on a grassy hillside in Wilmore, Kentucky, my three kids and I were rocking out to the Lost Dogs in concert. We came with our church youth group, which had traveled to Ichthus Festival at Asbury College near Lexington. It was a trip they took every spring, to camp out, hear national youth speakers, and enjoy Christian rock music. As one of the adult sponsors, I enjoyed the music as much as the kids did.
The Lost Dogs were one of the bands I’d been looking forward to seeing that year. The group was comprised of musicians from other bands that were their main vehicles; and Lost Dogs was a side project. The lead guitarist was Mike Roe, of the 77s—a band I had followed for several years. I enjoyed the 77s eclectic style of hard-edged, bluesy, even acoustic and folk music. I had seen both the 77s and Lost Dogs several times.
I felt a connection with Mike Roe’s songs. He wrote honestly about his Christian journey, with both its failures and its graces. One time when I was struggling with a particular sin in my life, I heard Mike’s confessional song, “The Lust, the Flesh, the Eyes, and the Pride of Life,” in which he sang the words “drain the life right out of me.” The message pierced me, and I soon reached a point where that sin repulsed me and I released it to God. That was a turning point in my faith journey.
After the concert, I went to the merchandise tent and chose an olive green Lost Dogs t-shirt. I walked back to our blanket, sat down, and pulled the t-shirt on, but, in the process I knocked off my glasses and broke the frames. I examined the frames and it looked like they could be fixed, but I would need some glue. The small canteen on the grounds had none, so I had to leave the festival grounds and look for a store. I told my kids I was leaving and walked out to the parking lot about a half mile away. I found my car and drove out past the exit booth and through the little town of Asbury, looking for a drugstore or department store. I didn’t find one on the main drive and decided to go a little further. I soon found myself on the expressway and drove till I was near Lexington. I don’t remember all the turns I made or how I wound up there, but I finally spotted a Walgreen’s.
I found the glue to fix my glasses and got in the long line to pay. Unexpectedly, I heard a voice behind me exclaim, “Nice shirt!” I turned around and let out an involuntary gasp. The speaker was Mike Roe.
The Habits of Love
I hadn’t planned on writing a love poem for Valentine’s Day. Having already secured a reservation at a fancy Italian restaurant, as well as purchased flowers, chocolates, and a card, I thought I was on top of it. I’ve been married for 20 years, you see, so I’ve had lots of practice. Over the years I’ve learned that my wife doesn’t want a gift for Valentine’s Day—she wants quality time with me, along with a heartfelt message penned by yours truly. Usually, I write a note in the card with as much fervent sincerity as I can muster; and I really do work hard on those notes. It means a lot to me to communicate to her exactly how I feel. So, again this year, I sat down with pen and card in hand, and attempted to do the same thing. But I was met rather quickly with romantic writer’s block. All the things I wanted to say felt trite or like I’d said them a thousand times. It felt futile. So, I took a break and scanned Facebook for a few minutes. In my scrolling, I came across a post about writing love letters by Jonathan Rogers (the wisest guy I know when it comes to writing). Could this be my salvation? Jonathan felt my pain and spoke my language. “Here’s my advice to the love-lorn writer: stop trying to describe what’s going on inside you, and instead depict what you see when you look out from your eyes.”
Jonathan said to be concrete; to stop writing about what I feel, and start writing about what I see. As an example, Jonathan quoted Jennifer Gresham’s poem “Missing You.”
The blue cheese dressing rattles
inside the refrigerator door, half-empty.
I thought about opening it,
drenching each red-green leaf,
just to fill my mouth
with something that you loved.
Jonathan’s response to that poem: “You don’t write that kind of poem by looking in your heart. You write that kind of poem by paying attention to what you see when a heart like yours looks out on the world.”
So I didn’t write a love letter at all. I wrote a love poem instead, using Jonathan’s advice. Here’s what was written in Janna’s Valentine’s Day card that night.
I don’t know if it’s a defect
in our mattress, or simply
twenty years’ practice
reconciling
in the middle of the night,
but you and I always seem
to end up back together
by morning.
Fried eggs with runny middles (but not too runny).
A glass of juice before the kids wake up.
English muffins with strawberry jam.
Rumpled sheets.
A bathrobe and a space heater.
To describe love is to betray it.
Why speak about it when you can see it?
If you’d like to read more of Jonathan Rogers’ weekly letters about writing, you can sign up to receive them here. Or if you’d like a chance to develop your own good writing habits, you can sign up to take one of Jonathan’s courses online, by visiting this link: http://www.jonathan-rogers.com/online-writing-courses/
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