wood and paint

This manikin has been sitting, for a long time in a box, untouched, glaring at me. There was a project associated with it - to paint the manikin in a way that reveals "your sense of or hope for what God has in mind for you to be." That was in May of 2009 - awhile ago. At first I was really excited about this project. Expression through art is not something regularly attempt, so it had potential to be fun. 

I quickly realized that I didn't know what I was hoping for God to have in mind for me to be. Fear captured my heart every time I thought about it. It's silly that a piece of wood could have that effect. But silly or not, it happened. And I wanted to know why. 

Why was I terrified to seek God's heart for me? Two main answers.

Answer #1 - 

My natural inclination is to shy away from, or avoid hoping. I was a proud member of the 'hope breeds disappointment' club and was not about to release my membership. This has been an ongoing theme throughout my life that is often revisited. The past year has included the journey of a plan daring to be pursued, and then that plan being changed more than once with an end result that looks nothing like what I imagined. And yet it is full of so much goodness. 

During a recent conversation with a friend, we were talking about burying dreams and how in doing so, you are also burying apart of yourself and stripping a piece of life away. We also concluded that it is better to feel the pain of an unfulfilled dream, than it is to experience the numbness of nothingness. 

God is teaching me to hope - to trust the desires of my heart as God-breathed. He is also teaching me to hold those dreams loosely. Such a fine balance. 

Answer #2 - 

What if there is nothing beautiful to express? 

I believe God often expresses His heart, in beauty and love, through His people. Simply look for it and you will see it. For me, I see it in a friend's paintings, other friends' photographs, words - spoken or written, laughter, music...and the list goes on. I see all of this beauty and I want God's desire for me to be a piece of that expression of Himself. This will probably be a battle I will wrestle with for some time, but this I do know - God delights in His people yearning for Him to reveal Himself through them. 

Back to the manikin. 

Atlanta, among other things, has been a place of time and space. Of a slower pace. Of learning to be disciplined and intentional with what I decide to do. In that time and space, there is room to experience quiet. To listen. And now I have a raw hope for the person I believe God is molding me into. 

My hope, is to live with my hands lifted up in joyful surrender. To radiate an expression of a God's heart. And maybe, just maybe, learn to dance without fear. 

As this hope evolved, an image also began to unfold of how I wanted to paint my manikin. Last night I sat down and attempted to make that reality. The finished product is maybe 50% of the image in my head, partly due to some necessary in-the-moment adjustments. And I'm okay with that. It seems a little too fitting.