Lessons from My Father ...

Not everyone has a father on earth who sets an example for them of what God's love as a parent is really like.  Far too many people have traumatic experiences or empty voids where genuine 'father figures' should be.  I'm fortunate that my story is different, and that by a stroke of luck I was born to a dad who sets the fatherhood bar high enough that you know it has to be pretty close to God's intention.  On Father's Day it felt appropriate to spend time reflecting on some of the life lessons I've learned over the years from my own dad, all of which, in the end, reflect back to God.

You don't owe anyone.

Every dance I ever went to, my dad told me the same thing as I walked out the door: Just because your date bought you a ticket, or a corsage, or dinner, or drove you, you don't owe them anything.  You are in charge of you, and you don't owe them for taking you.  I know at the moment his goal was to empower me to protect myself from pressure from my dates, and it did.  But the lesson extended beyond that, and empowered me as an independent ruler of my own choices in all situations, with all people.  I have never felt that I've owed another person something of myself that I don't want to give.  I know my value, and I won't be convinced by pretty words or ugly threats to take any actions I don't want to, regardless of context or circumstance.  Some call it stubbornness, and I'm sure that personality trait is involved as well.  But I like to think a large part of it is that single sentence reminder each time I walked out the door with anyone - No matter what, you don't owe them anything.  The message was clear: I am my own person, my choices are my own to make, and if others don't like it, that's their problem, not mine.  Because at the end of the day, I only answer to myself and God.  (Galatians 1:10)

You can do anything.

As the dad of two girls, and an attorney in the specific field of discrimination, my father had an inside track on why instilling this from a young age was so important, but he didn't do it alone.  Both of my parents showed and told us regularly that women were every bit as capable as men, and that we should never let anyone discredit us for something out of our control, like our gender.  I wanted to be president, I wanted to change the world, I wanted to make my opinions known and heard and followed, and I knew without question that I could.  That lesson may have backfired on them when I extended it to not letting my age disqualify me from knowing how to parent, and began challenging their own rules and consequences, but what can I say?  It's what they taught me, and it's served me well, whether in a classroom full of vocal guys or a conference room with people of higher clout.  (Galatians 3:28)

Love without judgement.

My dad lives life on the straight and narrow.  The stereotypical 'choir boy', if the choir boy were a tow-headed country boy with a muskrat trap under his arm.  He's kind, personable, doesn't drink or swear or lie; he's the epitome of professional at all times.  Yet he doesn't require that of the people he surrounds himself with.  His family, friends, and co-workers span all lifestyles and personalities, from the off-color to the proper, from the drinker to the teetotaler, from the bachelor to the family man, and as a child I watched with interest as my straight-laced squeaky clean father loved deeply, laughed loudly, and listened intently to people who were nothing like him - without losing any sense of who he was.  His friendship was never conditional - no one had to clean up their act for him, he took them how they came and found value in them just as they were.  His choices were for him, their choices were for them, and the two didn't have to be the same.  I'm wired like my dad - I watch my words, I'm polite to a fault, and chocolate is my biggest vice.  I'm so grateful he taught me to exist comfortably in spaces and with people who are vastly different from me, and to allow for diversity of thought and action in the lives of those around me, loving people for who they are without judgement.  (Romans 14:4-12)

Be skeptical.

A favorite family story is when I carefully prepared a magic show for my dad, I believe for Father's Day, actually, and at the end of each trick instead of acting amazed, as one does for a child's magic show, he proceeded to analyze and expose exactly how I had done each one.  At that particular time, I hated his skepticism - it really ruined my magic show!  But in life overall, I've appreciated a mindset that seeks to find the truth above the glitz of a showy performance.  Now more than ever, the ability to sift through opinion and rhetoric and outlandish claims to something tangible and true has proved invaluable.  My dad is never swayed by the show, but waits for the proof, and it allows him to remain a steady source of perspective in the midst of what could be chaos.  I believe a bit more in the magic of things than he might, but always with a healthy dose of his skepticism that keeps me from being swept away by whims, fads, or persuasive personalities.  In our faith more than anything, how important it is to be able to tell the difference between truth and trick!  (1 Corinthians 10:15)

Think deeply.

In a similar vein, my father taught me to think deeply about the world around me, and not grow complacent in my knowledge.  Maybe it's a lawyer thing, but conversations with my dad have always been deep dives, not surface level wading.  I learned from him that there's value in pondering things, in seeking to go further in my understanding.  He's always reading new things, listening to new ideas, questioning concepts he's long held to be true.  An NPR broadcast in human form.  My dad has always been one for a deep philosophical discussion, and what it taught me is that I don't need to be afraid to have my thoughts challenged.  Whether I agree with something or not, I can only come out better on the other side if I take the time to engage with it, discuss it, and think critically about it.  There are no easy answers in this world, and as soon as we think we know something, that's likely when we need to dig a little deeper, listen a little closer, and challenge our perspective a little more.  (Proverbs 2:2-5)

Faith is personal.

I went through a period of my life where I lost my appreciation for this lesson.  It didn't feel zealous enough for me; it seemed too content with potential differences in theology.  To be fair, I think over time my dad has learned there are times being more public with our faith can be important.  But the lesson I got from him at a very young age was that above all, faith is personal.  The Bible bears it out - David's faith is shaped in the solitude of his time on the run, the religious are told to pray in private, the great heroes of the faith were folks whose relationships with God were built in the quiet of a field, in the privacy of their homes, in moments of personal significance.  My dad's faith was built that way.  Sure, he prayed out loud before dinners, and attended church, and spoke about God.  But I know his faith was shaped in the quiet moments away from us all, the times I caught him praying when he didn't know anyone was watching.  Faith isn't a church thing to my dad, it's a God thing.  Church is a tool, but God is the goal, and his faith is something personal between God and him.  He gave us that freedom too - my faith growing up didn't have to look like his.  He understood innately that it would be something unique between me and God that he wouldn't need to know, or dictate, in order to trust.  As I've gained more faith experience, I've returned to this insight and example, and I strive daily to match it for my own children.  (Romans 14:22 MSG) (ESV)

Life is beautiful.

I'll always remember the day our family was driving along a rural road just before tornado weather hit, and my dad, who was driving, suddenly squealed and pulled the car over to the side of the road.  He hopped out of the car, looked up in amazement at the sky, colored with a uniquely beautiful pre-storm hue, and continued to excitedly exclaim in giddy incredulity at the beauty of it.  When my dad sees something incredible, he lets it be known.  It seeps into his spirit in a child-like and contagious way.  And in spite of all the things which ought to jade us in life, he never ceases to see awe-inspiring beauty in the world.  To watch him with a baby is to be in the presence of God - adoring and enamored and engaged to the point where the baby is the only thing that exists in that moment.  I've had the privilege of walking with him through a forest in the Midwest, along a beach in Florida, and across the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, and the look in his eyes is the same in each - it's the look of someone simply in love with God's creation.  Luckily for me, this lens seems to be genetic, because he's passed it on to me.  (Psalm 19:1-6)

And there you have it - a few life lessons from my father to me, and now to you.  A few truths to remember as we navigate this world.  You don't owe anyone.  You can do anything.  Love without judgement, be skeptical, think deeply.

Faith is personal, and life is beautiful.  Enjoy them both this Father's Day and beyond.

A Change in Perspective

While listening to a smattering of prayers and pastoral-led readings at church a couple weeks ago, I noticed the frequency of a certain type of word:

• kingdom
• power
• throne
• rule
• conquered
• triumphant
• reigning
• sovereign king
• exalted
• ordered
• authority

I couldn't help but be struck by the implication of these words.  There's something telling about Christianity that we reference spiritual things in these ways.  Christianity and Christian texts approach spirituality from the perspective of those with a ruler mentality, and the language we use reflects that mindset.  We view Christ as a King, a ruler, one who has conquered things, and that commands our respect and admiration.  We promote our relationship with God as a path to becoming conquerors ourselves, triumphant and exalted.

Not that there is no basis for these terms biblically; there are plenty of verses which, at least in the English translations, use these exact words.  They aren't 'unbiblical' terms, but I wonder if our focus on them is.  God is described in so many ways beyond these, yet our Christian songs and sermons so often zero in on the concepts of victory, power, and authority almost as though they are the point of our faith.  The Bible is explicit that love of others is always the point.

The kingdom mindset isn't as prevalent in some other religions and spiritual perspectives.  Earlier this year as my children and I studied Native American culture and philosophy, we came across what's known by certain Native American tribes as "The Words Spoken Before All Others" - an address which is routinely given to open and close all important gatherings.  It's a lengthy statement of gratitude to the various natural and spiritual elements, put into place by the Creator, which are at work throughout creation.  In expressing gratitude for these life-giving elements, and connecting themselves to the spiritual, the tribes repeatedly use the following words:

• balance
• harmony
• together as one
• support
• care
• provide
• sustain
• teach
• refresh
• guide
• one mind

The focus here is a stark contrast to the conqueror mentality.  It views the Creator not as One ruling over, reigning triumphantly, or vanquishing enemies, but as what is named: the Creator.  One who provides for, sustains, and unifies those in the Creator's care.  There is no victory or battle, but harmony and support.  There is no ruler mindset here.  At least not the kind we're used to.

To be fair, an appreciation of the power and ultimate authority of divinity isn't absent in other global spiritual disciplines.  There is a natural understanding in most faiths that God has power and authority.  Even in "The Words Spoken Before All Others", power and strength are referenced occasionally, as they are undeniable in the created world: "Water is life.  We know its power in many forms."  But power and strength are not the point.  The point, in spite of the Creator's obvious authority and power, is gratitude for, and unity with, the rest of creation.

"Today we have gathered.  We have been given the duty to live in balance and harmony with each other and all living things.  So now we bring our minds together as one as we give greetings and thanks to each other as people.  Now our minds are one.  [...] we turn our thoughts to the Creator and send greetings and thanks for all the gifts of creation.  Everything we need to live a good life is here on earth.  For all the love around us, we gather our minds together as one and send our best words of greetings and thanks to the Creator.  Now our minds are one." - The Ohenten Kariwatekwen (Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address or Words Spoken Before All Others)

Of course there are Christian texts which focus on the same.  A quick internet search of "one mind bible verses" will show that the concept above is found throughout our own spiritual text, for example in Philippians 2:

"... make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind." -Philippians 2:2

Yet I wonder if it would serve us as Christians to more intentionally set aside the language and mindset of rulership; I wonder if we ought to put purposeful effort into viewing God less as conqueror and more as Creator.  We model ourselves after the God we worship - should our aim be to become victorious or to become caretakers of the hearts and lives around us?  I believe we know the answer, but it's perhaps not an easy one in the Christian spiritual culture which has been built up over centuries.  It may be far past time to learn a few spiritual lessons from those who view God another way.

Unfortunately, that pervasive conqueror mindset has already relegated many of them to the past.

To All The Mothers ...

Motherhood takes many forms.  From creatures in the animal kingdom adopting orphaned babies outside of their species to step-mothers, grandmothers, families with two mothers, and mentors who serve as mothers, there are myriad paths to motherhood.  And yet the significance of the task remains the same - mother figures play a pivotal role in the shaping of our childhoods and lives.

image credit: Sukree Sukplang/ Reuters.com

Whether with your mother figures today in body or only in spirit, hopefully this is a day of knowing, because of their influence, that you are loved and known and cared for.  And in turn, that it inspires you to become that influence in the life of another.  It takes a village, as they say, and so much of the way we end up viewing the world is because of the relationships we have with those who have come before us.

Mothers have lived life, have seen and experienced so much more than we often know, and have stored up insights and perspectives we need.  God often cites the importance of keeping note of the things we've learned through experience for the specific purpose of passing it on to the children in our care:

"Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them fade from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them." - Deuteronomy 4

"...these words which I command you today shall be in your heart.  You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up." - Deuteronomy 6

"Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. ... his mother treasured all these things in her heart." - Luke 15  

Proverbs 31 is known for its description of an admirable woman - strong and hardworking and wise and compassionate.  But did you know that Psalm 31 begins with a recollection of words of wisdom offered to King Lemuel by his mother?  It's described as "an inspired utterance his mother taught him":

"Listen my son! ... Listen, my son, the answer to my prayers!  Do not spend your strength on women ... It is not for kings, Lemuel - It is not for kings to drink wine, not for rulers to crave beer, lest they drink and forget what has been decreed, and deprive all the oppressed of their rights. ... Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute.  Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy."

What an utterance!  I picture Lemuel's memory of these words, piecing them together from casual conversations held throughout his childhood where his mother voiced nuggets of advice sprinkled into the daily mundane moments of parenting.  Children remember those passing comments, the repeated refrains and mantras we pepper into our time with them almost without realizing it.  They take in the character of who we are, and find it in the recesses of their mind giving them guidance when they're grown and ruling over a nation.

The work of passing on hard earned insight doesn't fall only to mothers, but to any who find themselves in a parental role of influence.  To all those in a position to nurture, advise, care for, and raise a child, thank you, and happy Mother's Day. ❤️

San Sebastian

I've sat on this post for a week, intentionally.  Memories of spiritual trauma sometimes need time to marinate before being formed into words and sent out into the world, and even though the ones sparked by this post are minor in the grand scheme, they take a particular mindset to delve into at times.

Here's the thing - churches are flawed places.  Filled with flawed people.  As many have experienced, organized religion often becomes, in the hands of flawed people, an institution focused on exercising unfounded control and judgement on others' lives.  A place where we're told it's acceptable, and even desirable, to make definitive statements of spiritual judgement on the life of another; where we hear it's our role to evaluate the spiritual validity of another's thoughts and actions, and determine on their behalf the quality of their personal relationship with God.  Sometimes this happens out of a sense of misguided love, sometimes it's more purposefully manipulative, but regardless of the motivation, the result is usually the same.

The pain and trauma of having those around you speak negatively into your life with an authority claimed to be of God is uniquely difficult.  I think perhaps it's one of the gravest emotional wrongs we can cause one another - speaking for God in judgement of someone else.  God's not asking that of us, and the arrogance and audacity it takes to do so is a topic to be saved for another day.

For now, a walk down memory lane takes me to a boardwalk in San Sebastian, Spain, where I was traveling by myself after a long and frustrating few years in my church community.  At some point in most of our lives, we face uncertainty about whether we're on the right track in our lives and relationships, and after a lifetime of confidence in my faith and a God I knew well, doubts were beginning to creep in.  Years of hearing that the way I related to God was wrong, the places and ways I chose to do ministry weren't meaningful, the people I loved weren't worthy, my personality itself was sinful ... those things wear on even the most steadfast of people.  Maybe those constantly confronting me were right.  Maybe I was displeasing God.  I found myself broken, and questioning, and mulling over all these things in prayer as my music played on shuffle to the rhythm of the crashing waves in front of me.  And suddenly my music became my prayer:

"I haven't slept at all in days / It's been so long since we've talked / And I have been here many times / I just don't know what I'm doing wrong"

"What can I do to make you love me? / What can I do to make you care?"

As my prayers and doubts channeled themselves through its lyrics, this song walked me through letting go of the requirements others were putting on my relationship with God.  At a time when the "Christians" in my life were filled with judgement, gossip, slander, and expectations, it was easy to forget that none of those things describe God's heart or desires for me.  How often do we let God become defined by those who claim to represent spiritual things?  We find ourselves jumping through hoops or fearing conversational minefields, eventually believing this is what God wants from us.

But that mindset is unsustainable.  Whether out of exhaustion, or frustration, or hopelessness, we realize the hoops are unreachable, and any conversation can be exploited in a minefield.  It's a system designed for failure.

"There's only so much I can take / and I just gotta let it go / And who knows, I might feel better / if I don't try and I don't hope"

The Corrs brought my perspective into alignment in the bridge, which I'll share again here: 

"No more waiting, no more aching / No more fighting, no more trying ..."

"Maybe there's nothing more to say / And in a funny way I'm calm / Because the power is not mine / I'm just gonna let it fly"

There's a sense of relief that comes in letting go of pressure to do or say the "right" things to be acceptable to God.  A freedom in knowing our lives and faith aren't things to be curated or controlled for the purpose of gaining approval.  Freedom in Christ - isn't that what we claim it's all about?  The power rests with God alone, and isn't our burden to carry.

Every person's relationship with God is unique.  In my life, God chooses to speak to me through lyrics and nature.  If the beginning of this song was my prayer to God, the end of it was God speaking back.  After three and a half minutes of asking what I could do, what I could say, what I could change about myself to gain God's favor, the response was as simple as this:

"Love me."

Over and over, those lyrics resounding again, and again, and then fading into infinity.  That's what it boils down to.  No more.  No less.  It's worth another listen:

This was the beginning of the end of my allowing others to speak for God in our relationship, and although there was excessively more pain to come, as spiritual manipulation doesn't tend to roll over quietly, I left San Sebastian changed.  God had spoken with crystal clarity.

"...[W]hich is the greatest commandment ...?  ... Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.  This is the first and greatest commandment." - Matthew 22:36-38

That's it.  That's the requirement God has given.  In the times when the church stands in your way, and those around you begin to add to the message of grace, forgiveness, and love with requirements for your faith, remember the words of God alone.  God doesn't need you to jump through hoops or fit a certain ministry mold.  Let no one add to the message of God or distort the grace of Christ with their own demands.  (Proverbs 30:5-6, Galatians 1:6-9)

One Day ...

I'm irritated tonight honestly.  I want to share songs by Black artists which don't have injustice, oppression, inequality, or civil rights as their theme.  And I will.  But not tonight.

Those themes are unavoidable in 2020 and 2021.  I sit here continually brokenhearted over the state of violence in our country as I read headlines of the third mass shooting in as many days, analysis of bodycam footage of the killing of a 13 year old boy, remembering the recent death of a local unarmed Black man, all while the nation awaits news of a verdict in a trial for the murder of George Flyod.  And I know that beyond the theme of violence and the excessive prevalence of unnecessarily destructive weaponry, the themes of injustice, oppression, inequality, and civil rights are right there at the surface, inextricably linked.

When the nation has seen forty-five mass shootings in a single month, and our prisons are disproportionately filled with black and brown men charged with nonviolent minor crimes and held on unaffordable bails, it ought not be offensive to say: Our system is broken.

So why speak about things like injustice and oppression on a blog devoted to the intersection of faith and the arts?

Because these issues are intimately close to the heart of God.  Verse after verse of the Bible tout the virtues of justice, fairness, equality.  Chapter after chapter speak to God's disdain for oppression and systems which exploit the powerless.

"This is what the LORD says: Do what is just and right.  Rescue from the hand of the oppressor the one who has been robbed.  Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless, or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place. ... Woe to him who builds his palace by unrighteousness, his upper rooms by injustice ..." - Jeremiah 22:3, 13

When people throughout history have faced persecution and injustice, we as a species have turned to the arts, to express what can't be said, or won't be heard, in other venues.  The spirituals sung by slaves being robbed of their God-given humanity and dignity.  The protest songs of those fighting for equal rights.  The pleas of the psalmist, hiding out in caves from those who sought to harm him.

We turn to verse, to song, to poetry, to filmmaking ... ways to give voice to something which must be spoken if God's sense of justice is to be believed.

The movie Selma raises the voice of the life and work of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and John Legend's song for the movie, Glory, featuring poet and rapper Common, connects that history with the present day.  Yolanda Adams' version is even more powerfully expressed:

" ... to the degree that you share the sufferings of Christ, keep on rejoicing, so that at the revelation of His glory you may also rejoice and be overjoyed." - 1 Peter 4:13

I look forward to a day when those who have been oppressed throughout time are lifted above me in the glory of God.  I haven't faced true injustice; those who have deserve the place of honor God promises.  In the meantime, I can do my best to lift their voices and causes above my own.

"... make my joy complete by being of the same mind, maintaining the same love, united in spirit, intent on one purpose ... with humility consider one another as more important than yourselves" - Philippians 2:2-3

If you are reading this blog as a person of faith, I challenge you to sit this week with your Bible and seek out God's views of injustice, oppression, and inequality.  They are deep and wide, and we as a faith community need to breathe them in until God's view is our view.  I'm not there yet, personally; I'm not speaking from a high place on the mountain of insight, but from the base of it, seeing the climb ahead.

If you're reading this from a different background - perhaps curious about faith, skeptical of "God's truth", or simply interested intellectually in the intersection of faith and arts, please know this: God is clear about the evils of injustice, and reserves the greatest honor and glory for those who society has wronged.  Christian faith is unequivocal on this.  Everything and everyone who shows you something different is not speaking for the God of the Bible, and those who spend their lives fighting for justice and equality, whether through a lens of faith or not, are.

"Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong.  Learn to do right; seek justice.  Defend the oppressed." - Isaiah 1:16-17

A Rudimentary Understanding of Sakura ...

Cherry blossoms are on my mind this week.  Understandably, as they're blooming beautifully right now in nearly every yard I see.  In addition, our COVID-times temporary homeschool geography unit is currently studying the Northeast region of the United States, including Washington D.C. and its stunning cherry blossom trees, and the kids and I created canvas paintings this week of cherry blossoms.  On top of all that, we've been filling in some landscaping gaps left by trees hit with disease last year, and a weeping cherry blossom tree is near the top of my latest google searches for what to purchase.

Needless to say, I have cherry blossoms on the brain.

The word for cherry blossoms in Japanese is "sakura", and they carry significance to Japanese history and culture in ways I surely won't understand in a day.  But as I've looked into the symbolism and importance of sakura, they've become even more beautiful to me, as I think most of God's creation does when we take time to sit with it, study it, and reflect on it.

"Day after day [the skies] pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge.  They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them.  Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world." -Psalm 19:2-4

Sakura are known to be a sign of spring, a symbol of renewal, and a reminder to embrace the delicately fleeting yet beautiful nature of life.  They blossom yearly in Japan between April and May, around the same time as the start of the Japanese school year, when everything feels fresh, and young hearts and minds are full of new hope.  As in the U.S., the springtime awakening of buds and blossoms brings a sense of renewal; sakura indicate the end of winter and another beginning.

The symbolism of sakura goes beyond that, though.  Cherry blossoms are a springtime showstopper, to be sure.  Stunning beauties, they can take your breath away when in bloom.  Yet their bloom is spectacularly short lived.  A cherry blossom tree blooms for merely ten days, before those tiny petals gracefully float and swirl their way down to the ground on the breeze.  In Japan, this serves as a reminder of the fragile beauty of life; the ephemeral nature of a moment of joy.  Japanese appreciation of sakura is linked to the Buddhist concepts of mortality, calling on viewers of the blossoms to exist in the present moment, because it will be all too fleeting.

This thoughtful natural reminder of life, death, renewal, and hope, is so cherished in Japan as to be the national flower, and the inspiration for countless works of art by Japanese poets, painters, filmmakers, and musicians.

"Gazing at them / I've grown so very close / to these blossoms; / to part with them when they fall / seems bitter indeed!" - Saigyo (Japanese poet & Buddhist monk)

As I see the cherry blossoms in my town in the United States this year, I hope I take a breath longer to appreciate their delicate beauty.  To observe them a little more carefully, a little more intentionally.  To reflect for just a moment longer on what it is to love something so beautiful, for such a short time, and to see in that reflection a glimmer of perspective on my own life in this beautiful world.  To see, in a flower, a fresh start, a new hope, a renewal of spirit ... and at the same time an urgency to be present, to be mindful, because the beauty of spring - for whatever you wish to take spring to mean - will one day fade, and float away into the breeze.

"Cherry blossoms fall / when the time is right / I too will fall / when it is time to go" - Roy Isami Ebata, 1919-1990

Easter 2021

I typically share art in this space which is less overtly spiritual than what I'm choosing to share today, on this Easter Sunday.  My reasoning is always that overtly spiritual art often feels inauthentic to the lived experiences of those who don't consider themselves religious, and even many who do.  My goal here is connecting God's truth to universally relatable situations and feelings, and the polished picture of perfect trust and happiness sometimes presented by Christian artists is unrelatable to the vast majority of us who live the messy lives of reality.  There's a fantastic book on art and the Bible, by Francis Schaeffer, which, in part, explores this disparity and addresses some of the issues with "Christian art".

Occasionally, though, there are works that lean toward the overtly spiritual which still manage to resonate deeply, because they carry that critical piece of authenticity.  They don't shy away from human doubt or fear; they aren't worried, as Schaeffer puts it, that they might "fall off the end of the earth" by pursuing challenging questions about God or faith or life.

Easter should challenge us.  Easter is a celebration of the story of a man who was brutally killed by an angry mob, then resurrected from the dead, who now brings salvation and eternal life to the world if one only believes.  That should challenge us.  That should give us pause and cause us to question, wonder, and yes, probably doubt.  It should cause us to dig deeper, to ask questions, to seek answers.  Again, as Schaeffer says, an "infinite, personal God who is really there" can handle it.  And if not ... wouldn't we want to know?

Poet Joanah Madzime explores topics like these with vulnerability and artistry.  She digs into what many Christian artists steer clear of.  She tells God directly, and honestly, that she's done.  She's over it, and has a compelling list of reasons why.  In the midst of boldly confronting the audacity of faith, she creates a striking conversation:

What would your honest conversation with God be today?  You're allowed to have it, whether you consider yourself religious, spiritual, agnostic, or atheist.  None of us will fall off the end of the earth by speaking honestly, in all the messiness of life, with a God who may or may not be there, and may or may not respond.  We have freedom to be authentic.  It can take any form; some of us call it journaling, some call it venting, some call it praying.  But above all, let it be called honest, because faith, or art, or life, without honesty doesn't benefit anyone.