It's 3:03AM

Lord, teach me to rest.

crippled creativity

Reader: you have no idea, but it took me ten minutes to write this first sentence. Type one word, delete... type a whole sentence, delete... repeat. What is this anxiety that builds up when I'm about to create something? The verbalization of a thought, the creation of something frightens me for some odd reason. Perhaps it's the fear of creating something less than perfect. A fear that my creation might be a quiet reflection of my own imperfections. Fear of failure. I've spent many nights spent revising,fine tuning video projects. But rarely satisfied.

In my professional life, I face another blank slate. As director, I have freedom to put policies into place and design a program. You are the director, says my boss. Fear of failure. I have so many ideas, so many thoughts, so many dreams... but my insecurites are squelching my passion. This gnawing fear kept me staring into blank pages, blank video project timelines.

Once I created, I'd start hacking away at my creation with revisions after revisions after revisions. Never satisfied. Fear of failure. Insecure.

I like this video

Broadcast 2000 "get up and go" Full from Jordan Clarke on Vimeo.

28

Keith Green was only 28 years old when he died.
Jim Elliot was only 28 years old when he died.
Both of them did great things for Jesus.
Both of their wives went great lengths to continue living the legacy of sharing Christ's love.
Both were wholly committed to Jesus Christ.

If we asked them about all the great missionary works they did, I imagine they'd boast about their love for Jesus. I don't' think they'd boast about the missions work they did. Their radical commitment, the fruits of their labor... were all an outflow of a single heart-wrenching devotion to Jesus Christ. As Piper says, it's about "white-hot" worship. Not about missions. Missions exists because worship doesn't.


I turn 28 in about 6 months. Let me follow in the footsteps of Love.

Piano

Half of my childhood was spent practicing the piano. "Imagine you're in a meadow", said my teacher. It was for a part in the song that was meant to be idyllic and soft; a moment that would replicate an imaginary wandering through a meadow. The song would descend and move toward angrier notes. "Imagine you're angry.. at something.. at someone...", he'd say. The notes crescendoed and waited in anticipation for the emotions to surge through. What was I angry about? Anger conjured up as I thought of last night when dad fought with mom. I marked off on my calendar each day they fought. Last night was the 20th time this month. "Okay, descend.. descend...let the notes fall in gentle willowy whispers". The anger transformed into a strong, gentle longing for peace.

"Stop playing! It's awful!", my brother would cry. I'd yell back, "5 more minutes!!!". The imaginary meadow, angry memories and quiet longings for peace slowly began drawing back into the recesses of my mind.

amen.

“Beware of your ceaseless striving after a righteousness so great that you no longer appear as a sinner in your own eyes and do not want to be a sinner. For Christ dwells only in sinners.” Martin Luther

after all our hands have wrought, He forgives.

sin is intensifying around me and over me. in the midst of this battle, i hear Christ saying, he's won.. he's won..he's won. there is no longer anything impossible for him.

he's redeemed me from the miry clay. from the affairs. from foolish threats of divorce. from petty friendships with the world. cheap tastes of freedom.

he still beckons me to come. his plans are better. he plans to have me as his own.

God, i pray that I'd be yours alone.