Head - Heart - Soul

“When the work takes over,  then the artist is enabled to get out of the way, not to interfere.  When the work takes over, then the artist listens.”  - Madeleine L’Engle                                              

Often times a song, poem, or piece of writing comes to me as if I have known it forever.  When it is a song, I call it a God-song, although I should just go ahead and call any art God gives me a piece….there you go a God-piece.  One that I can’t take credit for, but one that I merely opened and presented…much like untying a ribbon and gently loosening the wrapping paper to reveal the beautiful gift hidden inside.  I remember the first time my mind was enlightened to the fact that God gives us these works of art as gifts.  For right brained (creatives) like me, we often need to simply let the piece (song, poetry, sculpture, painting, dance, etc) be what it was meant to be.  It wasn’t until I read "Walking on Water" by Madeleine L’Engle that I realized that as an artist, I was really just a messenger.  The one who carried gifts, opened them and then presented them.  Pretty much a vessel.  Below is the newest gift that God gave to me in a time of discouragement.  I pray that it will be a gift to you.  If you are weary, let it be like water to your soul.  It is after all a God-piece.

Sometimes we have a broken heart.  A heart that longs for more.  A heart that is saddened by reality.  A heart that aches for fulfillment of promises that seem too much like fiction to believe in anymore.

At times we are fractured.  Like an egg that is cracked, with yolk and white running out the fissures that appear.  It’s a leaky mess, and we haven’t got the faintest idea of how to go about sealing it back up again.

Our head tells us it’s time to give up.  It doesn’t logically make sense to carry on.  The history shows that not enough has changed to make a huge difference, and simple math shows us that there have been more bad years than good, therefore making a very unpromising ratio. Our heart just keeps crying.  It can’t seem to decide how it feels, shadowed by confusion.  It hears our head telling it the logical truth, but it hears our soul whispering that there still is hope.

Ah yes, the soul.  The part of our humanity that causes us to believe that there is more.  The part of us that says there is hope when our head and our heart have given up.  The soul is the part that God touches.  Where He reminds us that He is bigger than we are, more powerful than we are, and that His plans for us are good.  The soul is what makes us feel that maybe we aren’t so doomed after all.  That maybe, just maybe, these cracks and fissures, rather than being a detriment, can be useful, to let the light shine in where there seems to be none.  From there the heart begins to bubble with hope, and the head begins to be persuaded that maybe it can fudge the numbers.  

Awake our souls, God.  Cause us to feel You with our hearts, to believe You with our heads, and to know You from the depths of our soul.