What in the world is a 
   'PRISONER OF HOPE?"                                                                                                                             
                             "Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion!
                              Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem!
                              See, Your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, 
                              gentle and riding on a donkey....
                              (HE says, "I SEE you" ....."you're NOT too much.")
                               He will proclaim peace to the nations.
                               His rule will extend from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth. 
                               As for you, because of my covenant with you,
                               I will free your prisoners from the waterless pit. 
                               Return to your fortress, O prisoners of hope;
                               even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you."  Zech. 9: 9-12
      Today, I was stirred toward awe as I sat with my small group. 
One of my friends read this scripture as we meditated and celebrated all that the Father is doing in our community. 
I love that term "PRISONER OF HOPE!" 
What a strange and winsome captor- and yet, I am trapped in this relentless, and churning HOPE....... it's how I know that I am alive!  There is much to be celebrated. 
I see new signs of life.
    There is a big part of me that is sure that the Father could not be THIS GOOD - or even- THIS REAL. 
How could HE be?
But, there is a movement in our community toward redemption through beauty that brings this same hope....  I'm sure of it!
     Yesterday, as I was reflecting on the the extravagance of the Father's love through the events of the past week, I was reminded of a wedding I attended about ten years ago on a farm in Nashville.  This event was a special occasion for several reasons.  It was the wedding of a dear friend- a precious sister that I had discipled and poured my life into when I was a single.  On top of that, her dad had been my boss (and pastor) when I lived there a few years before.  This man was the real Jesus to me.  Maybe not the Jesus that shows up in storybooks and churchy paintings or crucifixes but, in my eyes he was the "real deal."  He was a people magnet.  It was incredibly life-giving just to follow him around.  He was FREE.  He drove an old  jeep, always had bed-head, and shot straight and to the point.  He knew how to love people well! 
Needless to say...  he was my hero.
     On that beautiful afternoon I watched him walk his beloved daughter down the isle.  I was captivated by the imagery:  the beauty of the ceremony, the perfect day, and the stunning bride.  Sinking into the emotion of a FATHER like THAT-  GIVING away a daughter like THAT...it was breathtaking! Everything was perfect.  
     When he reached the front of the congregation with his daughter  he turned to face her  and take his "other" role as pastor.
He was facing us (the audience).  I sat, overcome with emotion,  tears streaming down my face.  I was caught in the tension of all that was happening before me.  Wrestling with my longings, dreaming of a better place, and wondering what THAT kind of  love was like?  Feeling HIS emotions....
                and more that anything-....... sitting in the void of my own story.
     He began the ceremony.  He looked tenderly into his daughter's eyes.  He engaged the two as a couple.  He continued...
until, he glanced up and looked straight at me.  He was distracted.  He glanced at them and back at me.  He stopped.....
he looked at me again and said,...
              "Gina Hurry-  I SEE YOU- ...... I know you.....I know ........ "
in the middle of HIS precious daughter's wedding, he stopped to tell me that he SAW me.... that  HE "got" me. 
On THAT important day.  He stopped for me....?  One girl who felt like she was "too much."
He stopped to SEE and to care and to enter in.................

     This week I'm reminded that Jesus entered in. 
He STILL enters in.  He SEES.  Even as the wedding feast is coming....  in the midst of the chaos -He sees.  
We are not "TOO MUCH!"   As that river flows from the sanctuary(Ezekiel 47) He is promising to free us from our waterless pit. 
He is coming soon.  The river is rising.  I heard a rumor today that there are even people fishing there......  
REJOICE-  PRISONERS OF HOPE!  "He was sent to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and to release from darkness the prisoners..."  by His grace, would we DO the same- 
 My prayer today for my church home is that we would take the time to SEE. 
By HIS grace would we ENTER IN. 
Would we be humble enough to put away our self -protection and risk to serve one another in love.  
Would we dare to DREAM big!  
Would we dare to listen well.
Would we dare to pursue conflict.
Would we dare to submit ourselves to HOPE? .... to be IT'S prisoner?
Would we be freed in the gospel to take our eyes off of our smaller story.......and dive in to this deep river that is rushing by!  What a gift to be loved and SEEN.........
      



  
     

     Now, what?...........
"Go after a life of love as if your life depended on it- because IT DOES!  GIVE yourself to the gifts God gives you."(1 Cor 14)
      I'm wrestling this morning.  I'm Somewhere between FAITH and PMS.......? (just keepin' things real)
Wondering if I am crazy to hope for such big extravagant gifts? 
Or- am I asking too little of the ONE who holds everything?
     The spirit in me is groaning-  and that would be fine-  if it wasn't so loud.  
I read this morning that "Faith is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living.....it's our handle on what we can't see."
     "Each one of these people of faith died not yet having in hand what was promised, but, still believing.  How did they do it?  They saw it way off in the distance.........but, they were AFTER a far better country..."(Heb.11) (I love that word- "AFTER")
     I don't know what He will do with the many desires in my heart for the community I live in and love but, I do know that He IS moving.  I know what "I think I want"......but, He knows best.  He sees clearer.
I am looking toward the banquet table.  I know with certainty that when I sit down in my seat at THAT table that these will be the stories that are told.  This journey will be a memory of His goodness and a reflection of His faithfulness.  We will know the many ways he went before and behind us.  We will also see clearer.
We will tell of how the artists "led the way for reconciliation, humility, and the recovery of hope."  (~M. Fujimura)
    "Indeed a wedding feast IS coming.  And WHO besides the artists would God tap to orchestrate it's song and color and texture and vibe?  Who besides the artist would He trust to fashion the bridal gown and prepare the hors d'oeuvres?
Who besides the church- the consumate bride- would God ask artists to serve?"  (~Cindy West)

     "The artist is a servant who is willing to be a birthgiver.  In a very real sense the artist should be like Mary who, when the angel told her she was to bear the Messiah, was obedient to the command.
      Obedience is an unpopular word nowadays, but the artist must be obedient to the work, wether it be a symphony, a painting, or a story for a small child.  I believe that each work of art, whether it is a work of great genius, or something very small, comes to the artist and says, "Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me."  And the Artist either says, "My soul doeth magnify the Lord," and willingly  becomes the bearer of the work, or refuses;  but the obedient response is not necessarily a conscious one, not everyone has the humble, courageous obedience of Mary."  ~Madeline L'engle

     The creative process is such a mystery. 
Sometimes it does resemble the beauty of childbirth.
There is a romance in the conception,....uncertain and undefined incubation,... growth, change, wrestling, pain, tears, joy....and satisfaction...(sometimes). 
There is something that is before me today that I can not label or name yet 
but, it is here- 
            saying something....  sometimes whispering-  other times- shouting! 
I'm just wondering what obedience looks like?  How can I be obedient and open-handed with this if I can't define it?
Because this time,... it is more than a painting. 
     There is this desire I've mentioned before to walk through the creative process with more people- 
(only if i like them :)
I would love to have a real, tangible PLACE to do that-  but, not JUST for me.
I'm longing for a PLACE where artist, and musicians, writers,....and all kinds of creative minds could over-lap.  
A PLACE used as a messy art studio, a gallery, and a "stage" for those who have a song to sing or a story to share.  
A PLACE  for wine-tastings,  book clubs, intimate dinners-  and even seminary classes.... 
a place to ask questions-
A safe place- a refuge.  
A HEALING place....... 
And so many other things I'm sure I haven't even dreamed of.....
Because there's no real name for a place like THIS (besides Heaven/or~ maybe Franklin, Tn.)  I keep coming back to the images in my head from Ezekiel 47.  I've spent a good amount of time there over the past weeks.  I can't help but OWN some of that story for my church home.
     Yesterday while I was spending some quiet time with the Father in the sanctuary,  I turned back to that chapter again. 
The first part is talking about water that is flowing out of the temple.  As the chapter unfolds... the water is rising...it is growing deeper...ankle deep, knee deep, then waist deep,....until it becomes a rushing river that no one can cross. 
This time my heart stopped on verse 6. 
               "He asked me,'Do you SEE this?"
YES-  I SEE! 
All around me-  I SEE!  A RUSHING RIVER!
The gospel of truth is rushing through this sanctuary.  The Holy Spirit IS changing lives-  including mine.
And the river is still rising-
     The following verses bring even more hope-.......
He says that everywhere this river flows- everything will live!
He describes trees on the banks of that river...and the fresh water flows to them - causing them to continuously bear fruit.......
and those trees are covered in leaves that are for the healing of the Nations!
     WOW!  He's speaking to the mystery of THE NOW ~AND THE NOT YET!
WHAT GLORY!  WHAT BEAUTY!  WHAT POWER! 
So, here we are in the NOW.......and the now what?
The invitation to create is clear.  The invitation to community is clear.
And the SANCTUARY is where it all starts.
This is the image that inspires me to dream today.
To smile.
I SEE the river.
I can imagine the trees, the fruit, the leaves.
I can feel the light breeze coming up from the river......
who knows-  I might even pick up a paint brush tomorrow.........


 

Well, there's a first time for everything.  As I write this, I am scratching my head in disbelief.  What is this thing called "reconciliation" I have walked through today?  This mystery?  This feared giant?  A gift....?  Even though I am completely exhausted, I am sitting in such deep freedom, gratitude, and relief tonight!  I won't bore you with all the messy details (it would take much too long) but, I will say that this afternoon I saw beauty made from the ashes ... and once again, my faith is lifted.
Why is conflict so hard to face?  Is the Father pursuing us through conflict with other people he has purposely placed in our lives?  Somehow the threads He's weaving in my heart all seem to have a theme.  I have to believe He is drawing me closer through kindness, which seems to be His favorite indulgence.
Last weekend, as part of the culmination of the small group study "Waking up Grey," I went away on a retreat with my small group.  What a sweet time of community and solitude (I'm considering this time an early birthday gift from my Daddy).  As I was basking in the beauty of the lake and all that was around me, I became fixated on this beautiful, thick, old tree stretched out above me.  There were thousands of bare branches reaching upward in every direction.  My heart became engaged as I talked with the Father.  As I began, I told Him, "Daddy, these branches are like the many ways my heart is going after you.  I am pursuing so many things for You."  I stopped cold realizing I was unfolding my works before Him.  I was bringing my record of righteousness to Him... and I didn't even realize it!  As I paused, there was a smile, and the whisper in my heart gently said, "No, dear one, these branches represent all of the many ways I am pursuing you with good gifts and you aren't willing to receive them."  What?!? 
As I sat in that moment I was reminded of the character in Green Eggs and Ham who wouldn't "try" the gift that pursued him because he thought he wouldn't like it.  In His kindness (and sense of humor) my Father began to flood my mind with all the many ridiculous excuses I use to protect myself from really living and from intimacy with Him: 
"I don't drive after dark, or in the rain."  
"I don't like seafood, because it smells too fishy."  
"I don't wear fingernail polish because it makes me feel smothered." 
"I don't swim in lakes because you can't see the bottom," and the crazy list goes on and on.  

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.