The Renaissance

"I'm scared that I'm really not going to find what I'm looking for, that I'll continue this search for God but find Him nowhere. That's why I enjoy being in a comfortable place, because I'm always so scared that God is not going to be with me when I need Him. So at least I'll have something else when God ends up to not be there...to not care...

This is terribly tormenting and frightening...yet I know of nothing else to do. I cannot go back, so I can either choose to stay where I am (full of pain and sorrow) or move forward, hoping for a better life. I want to choose the latter, but I'm still afraid. I hope this fear can be beaten, for I fear for my soul...

Yet hope remains. There is a God and I will find out who He really is...to me." ~ Matthew Kent


That was written seven years ago.

I rarely dwell on the past, to be honest, but I suppose one would have to discount all the things in my repressed subconscious for that to be true. But I digress. I had quite a different voice back then and was quite a different person. Much more hopeless and hapless! I have much compassion for him and others like him, for his inner struggles and uncertainty, for his fear and despair that often seemed so confusing.

And yet, I was him.

Life seems so different now. It's hard to imagine how I might see things in another seven years! I've certainly found God and yet what I've found is much different than I had anticipated. I know a little bit more, sure, but in other ways I know much, much less than what I thought I knew. And yet somehow there is a fullness to that. I seem to know less and yet have more.

As this reality came up in a discussion last night, the image that unfolded was that of the Renaissance artist, Michelangelo, sculpting David. In one sense, as each chisel blow rendered more and more marble to the heap of rock on the ground, there was less. But each time the chisel struck, something new was revealed, bit by bit, until what remained was an incredible vision of infinitely greater significance and beauty than the stone block from whence it came.

It seems frightening to think that the 'truths' we hold onto might one day be chipped away to reveal something else, something deeper, and yet how else could it be? If it is Truth we are looking for we must be willing to carve away the ignorance of our 'already knowing'. The difference between us and Michelangelo is that we do not know what will be uncovered, only that something is hidden that desires to be revealed. And for this sculpture to continue on we must be willing to let go of what we see before us, to let the chisel fall where it may.

We do not carve this image alone but rather with the world around us. As we engage with life in vulnerability and authenticity, the rough edges become smoothed away and we become more excited to discover yet even more! To ever assume we know what will be revealed is the point where the mystery is extinguished, where creative passion is drowned in the waters of certainty.

And yet while this mystery cannot be fully known it can be experienced. That is the good news! And it is in this experience that the fire of creative passion is kindled and we find ourselves compelled to continue carving out a vision that our eyes have never seen but that our heart yearns to reveal.

Do we have the courage to open our hearts wide enough for this unending revelation to become manifest in the world? Do we have the courage to offer ourselves fully - body, mind, and soul - in utter vulnerability and humility to Life itself? Do we have the courage to embrace a vision greater than our minds could ever imagine?

If not, let us not be dismayed for courage can be discovered when we least expect it. It is always already there when we need It most.

May we not quench the fire of Spirit.