If you are anything like me (a sinner) the success rate of your resolutions (which turn out to be nothing more than declarations, or to the contrary, don’t turn out at all) is simply zero. Upon recognizing this, I myself can be known to make the resolution about my resolution, or the re-resolution. In light of my omission, I become wrought with shamefacedness about my general lack of such essential virtues as integrity and self-accountability, and seek to pump up the gusto in one way or another, seeking thoroughness, and production. Months (or years) go by and I, of course, fail again. My reaction to this reality usually ranges from indifference to penance; for the unbeliever, or the unwise Christian (me), the pursuit of my initial resolution can easily end there. However, for those brushed with the garment of mercy, there occurs a moment between the re-resolution failure (often more grand and consequential than the previous) and the final dramatic surrender, an experience that I won’t mind re- (and re-, and re-) experiencing for all of eternity: the realization of God’s grace.As a visual artist (painter, photographer, tissue-paper-theater-prop-maker) I confront this wonderful moment often. There be I, creating from transcendental intuition in a soundless, timeless vacuum of a studio… Wait… No, there I am: in my studio (bedroom) trying to marry form and content to express the glory of God, holding out a pencil from a few feet back, one eye closed (and twitching), arms crossed, examining my 300th-or-so attempt at an accurate line, on the verge of giving up completely, when I realize, “Oh yeah! Oh no! God!” This reaction is in no way ideal, though it is revealing. In seeking to do the work of God, I forget to ask God for his Spirit and grace first, the necessary and sufficient movers of any conquest, however personal or global. Though the efforts of my heart are sincere, sincerity is not integrity, is it?
It is in this context that I admit I have begun many blogs after conversion (Spring 2008). It is in the earlier confessed void of integrity that I also admit I have not continued one of them. Blogging has been a lifelong custom for me, probably rooted in the reality of the extrovert (or the neglected younger sister) which cries, “Hear me!” As mentioned, my structuring of this pursuit was doomed from the start as it began with any variety of beginnings other than prayer. Now I find myself in the position of beginning this blog asking for God’s grace for all things concerning it: firstly, that I would actually do it, and do so consistently; that it would serve as a means to the good for all eyes who endeavor upon it, and that through it I may glorify him in all that by which he makes himself known in all his works of creation and providence.
Thanks are definitely in order here.
To God, for all things, every thing, especially these things:
For Mr. G, who was the first to plant and water the Truth within me, and whose work is the building block upon which any work I do will humbly stand.
For Jennifer Bell, who through conversation at the 2009 Women’s Retreat and her almost-novella titled Goodbye, Madagascar, reminded me that I am a writer, and inspired me beyond measure.
For the book It Was Good: Making Art to the Glory of God (Revised and Expanded) without which I would not be able to make art (or articulate any ideas on it).
For WF’s ACG (Westminster Fellowship’s Arts and Christianity Group), founders, participants and discussion leaders, who are profoundly angelic to me.
For Nancy Wilson and Elizabeth Elliot, which I am honored to reference or mimic with license, as their indirect spiritual daughter.
For the girls, who are my very heart.
For Matt, who in merely knowing him, has shown me who I am.
To exploratory topical paroxysms! (and a thesaurus heartily embraced),
Anastasia
*originally written on the hot, grey night of July 26th
