Life Is Performance Art

Image of God

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.  – Gen 1:27 KJV

We don’t need an image/representation/idol of our invisible God simply because He has already provided one (actually, billions of images).  Each of us is an image bearer.  Maybe not a complete picture of God, but we have the family resemblance.

You’ve seen it.  You watch a family walk across the parking lot and almost die laughing as you notice that they all walk the same.  You have your mother’s eyes, your father’s nose, Aunt Ida’s height and your grandfather’s facial expressions.  Family resemblance not only includes physical characteristics, but mannerisms, speech and habits.  Much of it is a matter of genetics, but often some of the most telling features are acquired through observation and imitation.

Dissonance

Despite our family resemblance to our Father in Heaven, their seems to be a disconnect between who God is revealed to be and how humanity operates.  While God “demonstrates His love for us (Rom 5:8),” we have demonstrated that “every imagination of the thought of [our] heart is only evil continually (Gen 6:5).”  Every family has a black sheep, but God’s seems to have several billion.

How can the children of a creative God be so destructive?  How is it that a God of order has children who bring chaos and confusion?  Why is it that the children of a God who call us to “come reason” are so unreasonable?  Clearly, there’s something wrong here.

Juxtaposition

Performance art is many things, but, regardless of the methods and media employed, it is calculated to change attitudes, behaviors and perception.  By interacting with the “audience” and inviting participation, performance art becomes a real event in a real space in a real time.  Though composed of abstract concepts and components, it becomes very concrete.  It does not allow for a passive response.

When we pray “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done,” we declare our intention to see the Love and Truth of our Father replicated here on earth.  Our lives become performance art juxtaposing God’s kingdom with the kingdom of this world.  And the dissonance should be shocking – just like our big brother Jesus.

If we live Truth among all the lies and demonstrate Love in the midst of hate it will be shocking/noticed/memorable.  It is a life that invites participation in the kingdom of God and demands an active response.  Instead of being an event with beginning and end, it is a continuous performance drawing attention to the absurdity of the human plight simply by a life well lived.  Not shocking for the sake of attention, but inviting the “audience” to join the performance or at very least to declare where their allegiance lies.

I am made in His image.  I am art.

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Dad . . . Still

We don’t always understand all the places we are connected to our most vital relationships.  It can be a long and often painful process of discovery on the journey through The Sadness.

Letter to my siblings:

August 28, 2012

It’s been a year since dad died, and I still discover new ways that I miss him.  I never really understood the amount of strength I drew from that relationship, and the varying ways that expressed itself.

I was just doing a nasty bit of car repair.  I had a leak in the  inlet pipe to the water pump.  Unfortunately, on this particular engine, you have to pull the intake manifold to get to the pipe.  That necessitates the removal of multiple components just to get down to the manifold.  I didn’t want to do it.  It was a big job.  It was a tough job (for a simple shade tree mechanic).  I need to talk to dad about it – wait … that’s not an option.

I searched the forums.  I talked to two professional mechanics.  I didn’t like what I heard, but the job had to be done.  I found a potential short-cut where the inlet pipe could be slid out from under the manifold without having to remove the intake.  That was the answer!

I started the process with new hope – only to have that hope crushed and the second state in which I found myself was worse than the first.  It was impossible.  The job was too big.  It was out of my range.  I had invested $60 in parts and 4 hours in labor and had accomplished nothing.  The car was still undriveable.  Situation hopeless.  I need to talk to dad about this – oh … yeah … that’s not going to work.  The old familiar “Sadness” crept back in.

If dad was around, I would have called him.  We would have talked through what the book said, what the forums said and what the mechanics said.  We would have talked about the potential problems, the most obvious areas likely to fail and what the most disastrous outcome would be.  Then he would have said good luck and told me to call him when it was finished.  And I would have gone and done it – whatever it takes.

So, I went and did it.  It was hard.  There were unforeseen difficulties (who knew I would have to remove the ignition module to get to the bolt in the rear center of the manifold).  I had to go buy the manifold gasket (twice – the dog ate the first one (I would have loved to tell dad that story)).  I put it together.  It worked.  The first time.  No issues.  I need to tell dad about it …

I never realized how much of my self confidence was based in my dad’s faith in me.  Those phone calls weren’t just to pick his brain, they were to bolster my assurance.  Most of his knowledge and experience I was able to reproduce with a little internet research, but his confidence in me …  Exactly the kind of realization I would normally call dad to discuss – oh … yeah … not happening …

Every day a new realization.  Every realization a new reminder that he is not there.  Man, I miss him.

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Free to Grieve

There seems to be a lot of grief around me in the last few weeks. The letter below I just sent out to someone who recently lost a family member. It is not to a close friend, just a recent acquaintance really – someone I prayed with.  Someone who does not yet know all the places grief can take you or leave you.

Recently, I ran across blogger Teryn O’Brien. I like her writing. She has devoted the month of November to the topic of grief. I like her post “5 Ways to Minister to Someone Who Is Grieving.”

November 5, 2013

K,

Grief is a strange thing.  It never happens quite the way we expect it to and it works differently for everyone.  It’s okay if your grief isn’t “normal”.  It’s yours and you are entitled to it.

I read once that the normal period of grief is 18 months to 7 years depending on the nature of the relationship.  The problem is most folks want you to “get over it” in 6 months or less.  You don’t have to “get over it,” you just have to go through it.  And it’s sneaky.  You never know where, how or when it is going to descend on you.  That’s okay.  It won’t always be that way.

I lost my dad a little over 2 years ago and it taught me so much about grief that none of my previous experience or training even touched on.  Not that I have “completed” the process, but I have grown to understand a lot about myself and my relationships.  It’s amazing what will spark a memory or bring on The Sadness.

Fortunately, we do not mourn as those who have no hope.  Though we may walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, we don’t walk alone.

I wrote a few things over the last couple of years beginning the day my dad died.  Mostly it was for myself and to some degree my siblings.  You can find it at jimtheyouthguy.com and click on the Grief link.  Sometimes it helps to see and hear that someone else has felt the same way.  When you said, “It sucks,” it reminded me of the letter I wrote to my siblings on the first Father’s Day without dad.

Yes , it sucks.  And it sucks in ways you don’t even understand yet.  It’s okay.  It won’t always be that way.

May our Father supply all Grace and Peace to you and your family at this time of need.

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What My Dad Taught Me about My Dad in Heaven

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

What my dad taught me about my Dad in Heaven

This is a replay from our first trip to Guatemala.  You can read more here.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Up a little early this morning. About to go see if there is some coffee ready. Ian asked yesterday, at the end of the devotions he led in the morning, “How do you see God’s love for you?” I don’t think any of us answered that question. We talked about how we were moved by what we saw and experienced. Several people mentioned being grateful for our ‘stuff’ when we see how others live. We were even awed at being able to serve as Jesus’ hands and feet to touch these lives for this small place in time. But, I don’t recall anyone saying how they saw God’s love demonstrated for them personally.
For me, I think it is in be allowed to work with God. To be there when he does his ‘thing’. To even contribute some small part to his work. To be a part of God’s working, God’s ‘interfering’ in the lives of men, women and children.
My dad did that for me. He let me work with him even when it made things take twice as long to get them done. Even when it meant he would have to go back and redo everything I had done.
God’s an awesome dad. He lets me learn by watching him work. He lets me learn by trying things out. He lets me learn by messing things up. And he’s always there with the ‘great job’ and ‘I love you’ even when I get it wrong.
How does he show you love?

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