It’s the creator’s fantasy…
…to use the tools of the trade – words or paint or dance or music – to design the ultimate masterpiece.
…to turn passion into such artistic cleverness and inspiration into such adoration that mountains move, easels grow dark, and all other voices remain silent, at least for a while.
…to write the song to end all songwriting, or the story that all other stories are compared to, or the verse that contains the finest content of the heart.
Never gonna happen.
The heart is too large to be reduced to words or rhymes or phrases or meter.
The soul is too powerfully changing to be framed by one snapshot of expression.
The imagination is too delighted in the dance of dreaming to stop with one image.
The inspiration is too elusive and awe-inspiring to ever satisfy the poet that his work is done.
The Creator whose image we bear is too interesting to be limited to our vision-of-the-moment.
So we have the choice…
Pull up and avoid embarrassment by just not trying…
Give up because the tools in our hands are so frustratingly limited…
Dry up by not giving expression to the music and dancing and wonder and imagination and passion and love and longing and fear and delight and gratitude and expectancy…
Or…
Open up our hearts boldly, knowing that some of what is there is only appreciated by those who love us unconditionally…
Lift up our arms and move our feet willingly in the dance of the ridiculous, knowing that some loves are worthy of being ridiculed for…
Offer up what we have faithfully, knowing there are other offerings to come.
I choose the offering.
I hope I can make it better tomorrow.
I pray it can be more reflective of the beauty, truth, and images of wonder in my mind and heart as time goes by.
But on this day, I refuse to allow my limitations and imperfections to thwart the expressions of love and worship that still come calling. I will not allow the grandeur of the mountains to rob me of the satisfaction of the hill I am climbing. I will not allow the 23rd Psalm or the Hallelujah Chorus to silence the unique song or expression that only I can design.
I choose the offering.
I will sing this day the song of the finite, and dance with joy the dance of futility, knowing it will never be enough to reflect all that needs to be said. But love so amazing and life so divine makes even the flawed and the clumsy a work of art when it comes from an adoring heart.
I choose the offering.
I hope you will join me.