Author: Niki

I find it easier to express myself through the written word. Writing is a form of self-expression for me. I have difficulty trying to write and speak in the words of others. I don’t want to forever cut and paste someone else’s voice. Grafting their words into my speech, as though they were my own.

I want to express myself through what I choose to say and what I choose to write.

I was speaking at a church a few weeks ago. I was talking about the unity of the Trinity and how it speaks of the unity we are called to have with one another as the body of believers. I shared how I believe that it doesn’t really matter what words are used to describe this unity. Whether you use phrases such as ‘the Body’ or ‘Family’ to describe the unique relationship we as believers are called to live. It’s not how you say it that matters. It’s how you carry it. It matters more how you live it out than if you used the ‘right’ phrasing.

Regurgitation is not the same as understanding. Neither would it mean that I was walking it out. I could memorise every one of Christ’s words, but would quoting scripture make me anymore spiritual? Or would quoting Brene Brown make me anymore vulnerable?

You will rarely hear me use the word ‘kingdom’ to describe anything. How could I condense the beauty and fullness of who we are called to be with one adjective? Also, I’ve heard that word used to describe everything from the Church, to meetings, to socializing, to music, to movies, that now I’m not really sure I know what that word means anymore.

I’ve always been kind of different. And for the longest time I saw that as a negative. To me being different meant not fitting in. Not belonging. It meant being the perpetual outsider.

I have come to see myself as somewhat of a reluctant non-conformist. I don’t want to squeeze myself into a box. I don’t want to comply with rules and expectations that I disagree with. I want to take hold of the boat and give it a good rocking, but I know that people tend to freak out when boats do that. (I have noticed that people who claim to love a good boat rocking (i.e. hate ‘Religion’) have a habit of losing it when it’s someone other than them selves are doing the rocking.) I don’t like conflict. I tend to avoid it.

What if to truly express myself equates to challenging the status quo? What if being myself would invite the conflict I so fear?

I have lived with the belief that the less seen or heard I am, the safer I am. Safe, but barely living.

The Oxford dictionary defines self-expression as; the expression of one’s feelings, thoughts, or ideas, especially in writing, art, music, or dance.

Essentially expressing your truth through a creative medium. This could explain why creativity is such a massive exercise in vulnerability. You are, for all intents and purposes, putting yourself out there.

I have read that creativity wounds in childhood are some of the deepest wounds that people carry into adulthood. It only takes one remark from one adult for someone to put their pencils or paints down for good. I wonder how many adults think they are not creative simply because long ago someone told them they were not.

I have had people tell me that I am not creative/visionary. A while ago when giving a suggestion once to a leader, I was explained to about how creative/artistic people think. There have been a few times when I have had some people state to me that creative/visionary people are not administrative and administrational people are not creative/visionary. In the context of them talking about my administrative abilities and their lack thereof. Which they brought up, not me. Thank you for the backhanded compliment I guess (I am punctual and know how to tap buttons on a calculator… In scripture, the Apostle Paul refers to the spiritual gift of administration, and later says that if you don’t have a particular spiritual gift, you can ask God and He will give it to you.) I am a details person. And yet out of the 34 strengths listed in Strength Finders, Futuristic is number four in my results. Us details people can have big dreams and big ideas too! Just like how creative people know how to tell time or can tie their own shoelaces. Using being a “creative’ or a “visionary” person to justify one’s own laziness is…not only remarkably insulting to creatives and/or visionaries it’s…just…argh! Lazy isn’t a personality trait. Deep breaths. Okay. Cathartic rant over.

I am creative. I am visionary.

I won’t let others tell me that I am not in order to anchor their own narrative.

Their self beliefs don’t have to be my beliefs.

I will instead choose to believe in the way I come alive when I am self-expressive.

I will believe in my passion to explore different creative outlets.

I will meditate on the dreams in my heart and the visions in my head.

It’s not because I’m not a visionary that I do church admin. I do church admin because of my vision for what my local church community could be. Vision gives the mundane a purpose.

I am convinced that true creatives carry an element of the prophetic in their expression. They draw our attention to the truth of our reality, no matter how painful. But they can also inspire us with imagery of what could be. They don’t always entertain us. They can cause us discomfort, awkwardness, even anger. It’s not all hand holding and staring at the clouds. There are times when self-expression looks like putting on your gloves and fighting; for yourself, for what you believe. It looks like climbing up the cliff face, digging your bloodied fingers into the crevices, refusing to let go. It looks like standing back up after you have been knocked back, crashing down.

Self-expression can be terrifying. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m more afraid that people won’t read anything I write or that they will. I am afraid of being misunderstood. I am afraid that it won’t be good enough. I am afraid of my vulnerability being used against me, or my vulnerability making people so uncomfortable that they avoid me. The very definition of vulnerability is the quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally.

But as scared as I am, I want to be creative in a way that creates movement. I want to be able to express myself more fully and more honestly. I want to inspire that same yearning in others. To become seen and heard and fully alive as fully themselves.

 I’ve heard it said that struggle and difficulty make us stronger.

But in all honesty, it doesn’t feel that way to me right now. I don’t feel strong. Right now I feel weakened by heartbreak, by sorrow and by disappointment. I feel like a broken vessel emptied of strength.

I’ve heard it said that the struggle we go through prepares us for our calling.

But what if it doesn’t? What if there is no purpose in the pain? What if this is simply part being alive?

I remember being at ministry school being told that on average students start to thrive after two to three years after graduation. I am about to hit that three-year mark. And I am feeling anything close to thriving. This is one instance when I don’t want to be an above average student. There are a group of students from said ministry school ministering alongside our church at the time of writing. You may judge me, but I have chosen to have very little involvement with this team of students this year. Their presence reminds me of how I am not thriving outside of the cultural bubble of ministry school.

I wish that I were stronger. I wish that I could bury it down and perform for you. Wind up the music box and watch me dance.

Why are the broken ones considered the strange ones?

I wonder how long a winter season is supposed to last. I have been on the edge of Spring so many times in the past several years. I have glimpsed it. I have tasted it.

I wonder what Christ must have felt like that evening in the garden. Broken and shattered. With even greater sorrow awaiting him.

What does it mean to share in the sufferings of Christ?

Is there something of an intimacy with Christ that we only get to experience in that place of fragility?

What did it feel like to be Christ, alone in that garden? Abandoned and rejected by those who had committed everything to him. What disappointment did he feel when his friends slept through his dark night of the soul? Did Christ experience hope in the midst of his suffering? Or did He see himself as surrendering reluctantly to the will of another?

Pain is insufferable without hope. Without hope we could never participate willingly, freely in the full experience of our pain. I would rather dull my pain with distraction. I would choose to participate in the resurrection over the crucifixion any day.

When Christ was crucified he was naked. His hands nailed to a wooden beam, he couldn’t cover himself. He couldn’t hide. The public display of pain can be a shameful experience. We are exposed and can do nothing to cover ourselves. We feel humiliated and ashamed. Misunderstood. Even with people singing the praises of (other people’s) vulnerability, the awkwardness is palpable.

I want to make a giant neon sign and hang it from every building. Don’t praise vulnerable. Be vulnerable.

How many of us ever allow ourselves to identify with Christ in this way?

Would our knowing that we can experience a deeper sense of intimacy with Christ through the embracing of our suffering, help us to see our suffering differently?

“…The act of staying and living in our place has an impact on us practically, of course, but also on us theologically. It’s not always sexy to stay put, is it? In most of my church tradition, no one ever mentioned the holy work of staying. No one talked about how the places where we live life matter to our spiritual formation, how we are shaped by our communities, by our rootedness, our geography, by our families, and by the complex web of connections and history that emerge only by staying…”    Sarah Bessey in Out of Sorts.

I don’t think that there is officially a spiritual discipline of staying put. But if there were, I think that it would be in the list of most difficult disciplines to practice.

I often hear people talk about the sacrifice of going.

But for me, and I think a number of us, when it things get harder, it’s harder to stay. In those times leaving can seem like the easier and, dare I say it, better alternative. Staying and working things out involve holding hands and wading through the mess together. Letting people see who you really are. Staying involves holding onto your pain and not hiding from it. It involves having those brave and difficult conversations. It involves risking your heart and testing your hope.

More often, there is a greater sacrifice in the staying.

My natural response to scary things is the flight response. My natural inclination is to turn tale and get out of there as quickly as possible. So staying requires fighting against all my normal impulses. When I walk into a room my brain automatically maps out all of the exits. Staying put takes discipline. Breathing exercises help.

I have learnt about how to stay put physically. But I am still learning how to stay present in the place where I stand. Who doesn’t fantasize about winning lotto and quitting your job and sailing away into the sunset? Sayonara suckers!

Staying put requires hope. Hope that things will get better here, where you are. It means not longing for the greener grass of distant pastures. The grass is greener where you water it. Yes but why work at tending to the grass at your own feet, when you can more easily benefit from someone else’s hard work somewhere else?

It isn’t fashionable to talk about staying put. You know what is sexy? Mission trips. Overseas mission trips are sexy. And people who go on them are exotically anointed.

Don’t get me wrong; I do enjoy hearing about exciting events in far off lands.

But I also want to hear about the stories of the people who are outworking the kingdom where they are. I want to sit at their feet and listen. And maybe even take time to wash those tired feet as an act of celebration. Thank you for staying!

Thank you for shining a light in your schools, your workplaces, your homes, your churches, and in your communities. Thank you for visiting the sick, for holding the heartbroken, breaking bread with the lonely, for encouraging the weary (even as you had your own weariness to bear), for celebrating birthdays and weddings, and for showing up to funerals. Thank you for welcoming people into your homes. Thank you for cooking meals, counseling teenagers, coaching kid’s sports teams, for fundraising, for volunteering, thank you for serving and loving people in your community.

Sarah Bessey sums it up well:

“…We can embody the Gospel by going, absolutely, but we can also embody the Gospel by our roots, by our unhurried community development, by our family meals and our wanderings. Some of us embody the Gospel by staying put.”