Art Revealing Truth: We like free stuff

"It takes a lot of guts to have nothing at your age! Yeah, most people would be ashamed! But you've got the courage to just say, 'The hell with it! I'd rather have nothing than settle for less." 

(Elaine May, Ishtar)

Cover Art by Cody Andreasen. Still the greatest.

For the next couple of days the Kindle version of my novel Altruism in Gophers is available for free download on Amazon. How silly would you be if you didn't download it and tell all your friends to do the same? (So silly, it's embarrassing. Don't let that happen to you. Go download it. Seriously. I'll wait.)

 Since I published the novel a year ago, I've received wonderful messages and phone calls from readers letting me know their thoughts about it. I'm humbled by how many people of disparate ages and situations have told me how much they related to dear Winston in his loveable loser-ness and how they were rooting for his success. Such conversations thrill me. I love talking about the ideas presented in stories. I love that a story will reveal, often unintentionally, a greater truth.  It is especially gratifying when others find the stories that I have written worth talking about. My love tank over-floweth in such conversations.  So, to all who have taken the time to reach out and let me know your thoughts--even if it was only to object to a certain conclusion,--I appreciate it.

 One question that I am often asked is, "So, how long did it take you to write it?"

Then it is my turn to feel embarrassed at how slow I am at getting my thoughts together; at solving the imaginary problems that I created.
"Depends on how you count," I answer, stalling for time. "Just writing? I have no idea. Probably not too terribly long. Since I first had the idea? Since I first started? Years and years." I used to feel ashamed about this. I would see how prolific some writers can be and I would feel like I wasn't working hard enough. (And certainly, there are days when that is the case.) But I have come to learn some things since I inadvertently began this craft.  Paramount among them is this: It takes as long as it takes. Does it frustrate me that the graphic novel project I wrote in an afternoon and submitted without editing was picked up for publication, whereas the other graphic series project that I spent years upon, yet languishes? You know it does. But I am less cranky about it than I used to be because I am less insecure.

There is a fickleness to the creative process because art is revelatory. Like a painstaking archeological dig, it is exposes to view what is hidden and buried.  It connects humanity through our shared recognition of experience.  A good book, a brilliant film, a beautiful painting or a powerful song have the ability take our internal insular experience and connect us to others who have felt the same things. Art makes connections between people where no obvious connections exist. Some writers have the ability to do this swiftly while others--like myself--do not.

 Altruism in Gophers took a long time to come together because, like its protagonist, it is a late bloomer.  But the occasionally barren and often lengthy nature of my creative process is not your problem. This is a fast-paced culture, after all. You can download the kindle version of Altruism in Gophers and be reading it before the current minute runs out. You, dear reader, were not the one with the ideas hanging out in the recesses of your mind for years and years. You just get to enjoy the finished product. (Free! Free! Free! in this limited time offer...) Go to Amazon and check it out.

The Drowsiness of Evil

"Now my beauties, something with poison in it, I think, with poison in it. But attractive to the eye and soothing to the smell. Poppies. Poppies will put them to sleep. Now they'll sleep..." 

-The Wicked Witch of the West

There is a scene in The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy and her friends must cross a field of poppies in order to reach the Emerald City which lies within their sight on the horizon. The poppies are beautiful and seemingly harmless, and the path ahead looks pleasant and easy. Dorothy and co. enter the field without trepidation. They do not know that the poppies have been enchanted by their enemy, the Wicked Witch of the West. As they wade into the field of flowers, an unnatural exhaustion begins to overwhelm them so that they lie down and go to sleep.

It is easy for Christians living in the wealth and comfort of the Western world to regard persecution as something that other Christians experience. Missionaries tell us their stories. The news (sometimes) reports the suffering and violent hardships experienced by Christians in other parts of the world and we look at our own pain and think that nothing we’ve experienced qualifies as persecution on that scale. We aren’t being martyred. No one is bursting into our homes to slaughter us lest we renounce Christ. We aren’t second class citizens. We don’t have to pay a special tax because we’re believers. Occasionally, we get mocked on television or sidelined politically. But when we compare ourselves to Christians elsewhere, we might think we’ve got nothing to either worry about or show for ourselves.

When we believe this, we are in danger of placing our suffering and experience somewhere beyond the context of Scripture and risk being deceived. The book of Job reveals the role that the spiritual realm plays in human suffering. Job was persecuted by Satan for his righteousness. While his family, his livelihood and his health all suffered, his anguish was spiritual and psychological in nature. The kind of persecution experienced by Christians in the wealthy and comfortable nations of the world is less overt than the outright violence experienced by some of our fellow believers. It is subtler, easier for us miss. The Wicked Witch of the West’s bewitching of the environment was no less a snare to Dorothy and her friends than the flying monkeys sent to harass and them on other parts of their journey. Sleepiness was arguably the most effective tactic. It was the one they didn’t recognize; making it just as deadly to Dorothy’s purpose of reaching the Emerald City as outright attack.

Christians are also looking to reach a glittering city on the horizon. And while it may look like we’re just crossing a field of flowers, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a deadly enemy lurking nearby.

“Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” (1 Peter 5:8)

Hearing God When You Can't Hear

People get nervous when you tell them that God spoke to you in a dream. I get that. There is no way to fact-check a dream. Dreams are purely individual experiences and so their interpretation is utterly subjective. The divide between ‘delusional’ and ‘spiritual’ is a little too hazy to be comfortable for anyone. Even so—God speaks in dreams. There’s a multitude of examples throughout the Bible. As such, we cannot ignore dreams—at least—we should not ignore certain dreams. I had one the other night. A dream so vivid, so unsettling, that I awoke certain of the fact that it was not one of the usual half-forgotten dreams that generally populate the night. This dream made me uneasy because while it seemed to be a spiritual dream, it wasn’t pretty. It was disgusting, actually. It is the only dream in which I can ever remember smelling anything. Visually, too, it was assaulting. I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure my theology had totally prepared me for God speaking to me in a dream about horrifying plumbing problems. 

It is a good reminder: God isn’t particularly concerned about our notions of propriety.

The dream stayed with me as I went about my morning routine. I didn’t understand it, but I wanted to. As I prayed—asking God if there was something there for me—the meaning of the dream fell into my mind like life-saving supplies air dropped behind enemy lines. God was telling me that I had placed certain hopes in the wrong place of priority in my life and it was making a huge disgusting mess of where I live. 

This was a transcendent revelation, but it was not the kind of revelation I was expecting. I wanted an answer as to why my hopes didn’t seem to be coming to fruition and when I might expect a little light on the horizon, so to speak. Instead, God told me I was wrong. My hopes weren’t wrong or sinful, but rather what I had unknowingly done with them. I didn’t mean to let these hopes—represented in my dream as carefully wrapped bundles of white gauze—block the drain and back everything up to the point of contamination. I thought I was doing well.  I thought I had everything in order. I thought I was right according to God and everyone. 

But I wasn’t.

Here’s the stark reality: It is pride that keeps us from hearing from God. We can call it other things; mask it with the appearance of different problems. Nevertheless, deep down at its root, it is pride that hinders our ability to hear what He is saying. Pride forms the impenetrable earplugs that block out everything but our own assessments. Pride is coming up with alternate explanations to avoid surrendering our plans and judgements to God because it feels like it would be the death of us to do so. Pride doesn’t always look haughty, sometimes it looks perfectly reasonable. Pride doesn’t know it is proud. It just thinks it is right.

“The source of revelation-knowledge is found as you fall down in surrender before the Lord. Don’t expect to see Shekinah-glory until the Lord sees your sincere humility.” (Proverbs 16:33 TPT)

God never lies. He will not participate with you in a fallacy. Whether it is in disordered hopes or a false view of our own importance or insight. He is always speaking exactly what we need to hear. If we aren’t hearing Him, then we know that somewhere pride has gotten in the way. And, perhaps, if you are like me and a subversive pride has so stopped your ears without your being aware of it, the mercy of God might just drop a dream into your head to wake you up.

(A version of this article was published in the March/April 2019 edition of live magazine. Check them out. )