When I was a child I was fascinated by the tension and hope of sending a message in a bottle "out to sea."  I've always loved the ocean - wild, without boundaries, unpredictable, undefined, and really deep.  What a great place to send all of our deepest longings.  There's some safety in that.  But what if we held out hope that our bottle would be found?  I'm not sure what this says about me, but I think there's some beauty in it. 
We all have longings - things of which we hope and dream.  I've been thinking a great deal about this lately.  As I look at the community I love and the church body that is my home, I am stirred to hope for something more.  Not merely from discontent, but from a place of great hope and gratitude...from a place of vision and faith.
Over the past year, through His kindness, the Father has engaged me in a conversation about the beauty of the messy process of creating and the messy process of life.   He's showing me the beauty in the messiness of community.  Living in and creating in community.  If the Holy Spirit in us knows and searches the deep things of God, and I have "the mind of Christ," then I want to say this out loud (I Corinthians 2:1-16).  I'm longing for a more visible creative community.  I'm longing to walk through the creative process with more people - a big step for a prideful, rebellious, self-consumed introvert (who knows she is well-loved by her Father).
I do love to paint alone-  solitude and personal worship is so precious.  I just sense that the Father is calling me to step out a bit and to invite others to do the same.  I've been listening, wrestling, crying out, waiting and really going crazy with passion.  It's eating me alive in a good, but un-doing sort of way.  Have you ever been so uncomfortable or "hungry" that you knew not even your favorite vice would satisfy?   Praise Him that He has replaced my desire to seek temporary comfort with a desire to stay here and be...undone.
Part of my realization has to do with the messages I sent down the river in countless old soft drink bottles when I was a child.  I've always longed for more, I just couldn't name it.  As I've listened to the Father's wooings over the past months, the topic of our conversation has dealt with community, repentance, revival, and the beauty of the creative process.  I don't know what He's going to do in this place I love.  But, I wonder if I hope too much ?  I hope not!
I'm actually writing today as I did when I was a child.  My messages were tied to my hope.  I do not know how many times I wrote little notes, carefully placed them inside old soft drink bottles, tightened the cap and sent them out.  I threw bottles off bridges into the Pea River or the bay in Pensacola.  The theme of all my efforts to communicate came back to me a few years ago when my mom called with unexpected news.  After almost twenty years, one of my bottles had been found.  Really?  A six year old boy in Florida was exploring the riverbanks near his family's fish camp when he spotted a bottle with a paper inside it ... a message.  The bottle was covered in mud and algae but after cleaning it off he could clearly read the note inside.  The date read July 22,  1982.  The note followed: 
"Dear whoever:  I'm glad you found this bottle. 

  
 Today, I am incredibly thankful for those who journey with me- you make life here sweeter. 
  Your willingness to walk with me is a precious gift. 
  Your ability to see, to hear, and to understand is a treasure. 
Especially valuable to me is your strength- you fight for me.  Would I be so bold with you. 
I am humbled by the gift of traveling companions. 
You make me laugh-  you draw me out-  you make me long for more.

   Well, I've decided if I don't say something-  the rocks are going to do it for me.  Am I the only person longing for so much more today?  Is anybody out there?  I've also decided I have more passion and capacity for emotion than any one person is supposed to have, and since I'm not painting today I have to get this out RIGHT NOW...somehow!
   This has been a busy fall - full of color, depth, rich relationships, and lots of creating.  When I paint I know I am really alive- it is the language of my soul.  I'm finding more beauty in the process than I have ever known and I guess it's what is stirring so much inside of me today.  I really don't care if anyone reads this.  I realize I am too much for the average person to handle anyway so, here's what I'm really thinking.  
   Now, faith is the assurance of things hoped for...perceiving as real the facts which have not yet been revealed to the senses.  This is what the process of creating has done for me (especially this past month).  Jesus has been brought near.  Faith has made more real the things that are invisible!  In creating beauty, my soul is responding "Amen"-  "the stories are all true!"  (thank you -Andrew Peterson).  This process - the mess and the tireless hours I've spent covered in paint, with aching shoulders, back, knees and hands has changed me.  I'm not who I was.  
   I do worship through the act of painting.  It's part of who I am.  I can't escape it or apologize for it.  Sometimes I think I'd rather be a musician or writer, but I am who I am.  Today, I am dreaming BIG!  I am begging the Father to show up in our church through the arts.  Not through fancy art shows or well presented exhibits packaged all pretty, but through the messy, uncomfortable, gut-wrenching process!  Where are the artists, musicians, and writers in our church body who are hungry for Jesus and burdened for the lost?  Who long to see him show up and change lives through worship?
   Since Sunday's "Behold " service I've been holding my breath.  I am not satisfied.  Actually, I am left more hungry than ever.  I can not communicate in words how desperate I am right now, begging the Father for more!  Yes, I know I'm longing for heaven.  But beauty brings light into the darkness, and we are called to restore.  We are called to this place-  for this time-  for these good works which He has prepared in advance for us. . .and there is strength in numbers.  Who will join me?  Seriously!  (this feels like the finale in Les Miserables).
   On a more personal note, I was really stretched to participate in the worship service on Sunday through the paintings which were used (it was a big step for me).  Jason knew this when he asked me!  But, I must say I would not trade the discomfort and pain for anything!  If anything, by God's grace, I want to lean into it!  I don't want to miss anything He would say to me right now!  His word has become my life-line!  In all honesty, I have come face to face with the kindness of the Father which I've never known like this before.  Why has He so richly poured this kindness on me?  I know who I really am.  I see my flesh.  I am humbled and broken and I have been forced to wrestle with this extravagance poured out on me.  Why would He invite me to the table?  He even invites me there to feast on HIM in the presence of my enemy (my flesh).  
   He invites us both to come.  He loved me when I was only my flesh.  PRAISE JESUS, He makes all things new!  The idea of "beholding the Lamb" is still running around in my heart and head.  The music that Jason chose was so rich and beautiful.  I just wish those who came on Sunday could have walked through the process of creating with me (not to say that I'm ready for that).  The finished paintings were NOT THE REAL BEAUTY!  I am ready to break the silence and I am longing to be poured out like a drink offering for my Jesus!  To the end of HIS glory! 
Impatiently waiting . . . and very uncomfortable,
gina