Nathan:  My lord, I have a story to tell you.
David: Say on.
Nathan:  There were two men in a town, one was very rich and the other very poor.  The rich man had great flocks of sheep.  The poor man had only one little ewe lamb.  This lamb was like a member of the family.  His kids grew up with the little lamb and played with it like it was their sister.  The poor man cared for it and let it drink out of his own cup.  They even took naps together with the lamb sleeping in his arms.  Well, one day, the rich man had a friend in town and he wanted to prepare a nice dinner.  Instead of having his servants butcher one of his own sheep to prepare for the meal, he went and stole the ewe lamb from the poor man and butchered it for their dinner.
David (furious):  As surely as there is a God in heaven, that man deserves to die!  But not before he pays four times over the value of the ewe lamb and THEN he deserves to die for his utter lack of pity!
Nathan:  That rich man was YOU.

*****

Every time I read this passage in Scripture I think about the power of Nathan’s story.  He didn’t come to the king and say, “Listen, bud, you screwed up bad.  You coveted someone else’s wife, you killed an innocent man and committed a monumental act of injustice.”  Nathan could easily have done so.  Many times the prophets did address the kings in that straightforward manner.  And David would have listened.  But not here.  Nathan brought a finely crafted word picture to cause David to feel the full emotional weight of what he had done.

Imagine being David as he listened to the story.  I know it makes me burn every time I hear it.  My response to the rich man taking the precious and innocent treasure of the poor man is immediate anger.  Such wanton cruelty.  I can think of all kinds of interesting (and not very merciful) things that rich man deserves.  And David knew the context even better than I do.  Why?  Well, for one thing, he was a shepherd.  Given his temperament, I can only assume that he got attached to a lamb or two himself.  He knew what it cost to raise them and he could appreciate the joy the lamb brought to the family.  He was a family man too.  He could imagine only too well the grief of the poor father when his children were robbed of their playmate.  He was also a big champion of the underdog.  Who were those mighty men of his?  Drifters and outcasts, many of them.  He took them in and made something out of them.  He was always one to lift up the heads of the weak and the innocent.  The utter arrogance of the rich man must have made David fairly burn with fury.

David had gone inside of the story.  The word picture was so well crafted and so suited to his design and life experience that it drew his emotions fully into scene.  He was furious at the rich man.  There was no going back from what he was feeling, and when Nathan sprang the punch line on him, he saw his own deeds in an entirely new light.  How on earth do you continue to deny or ignore your own behavior when you have now seen it so clearly from the other side of the fence?  What do you do when you have fully condemned your own actions with your righteous reaction to the picture?

You pray a prayer like David did.

Word pictures are a powerful vehicle of truth.  When a story connects with something we know and have experienced, it can take our emotions to a place they would not go if we’d been told the concept in its own plain state.  We can relate to the picture and it sinks into a deeper place.  God is an absolute Master of word pictures.  He knows our language, our design, our experiences, our dreams, and our failures.  He knew David’s heart and what it would take to bring about a level of repentance that would become a model for humanity.

Think of the times when God has used a word picture for you.  It doesn’t have to be a rebuke like it was for David.  Many, many times God uses pictures and stories to help us see something about Himself or the way He made us.  Sometimes He uses them to instruct us.  Many of the times He has spoken to me through a picture it has been in the context of a written story.  One of my favorites is from a story called ‘The Bridge” by Jeri Massey.  There is a ballad in the story that is perfectly suited to me.  The author had no idea that it would connect with me so deeply, but God did.

When I think about this amazing facet of God’s nature, I ponder what it looks like for me.  How can I craft better word pictures for people?  What does it look like to weave together what I know about their design and experiences to engage their emotions and cause the concept to go deeper than it would have gone otherwise?

This is a topic I will continue to explore in the coming months as I look at different stories in Scripture (including this one!) and life.  We will explore some of the elements I can already see about crafting good word pictures and I look forward to discovering more.  I would be delighted for you to join me and for all of us to learn how to take this extraordinary tool to a new level in our lives.

Yesterday was a cave day.  It had been almost four weeks since I had done any writing, and I was looking forward to getting back into it again.  I don’t think I stuck my nose out of the door until after dark.

I began the day working on a chapter that was towards the end of the book.  It is a chapter where I take a step back from the individual implications of our connection to time and broaden the view to look at history.  There is a particular point in western history that stands out to me as pivotal in the way we relate to time as a culture.  But then I came across an illustration I had used that took me back to the personal level.  Well, then I got to thinking.  Maybe this illustration belonged in the first chapter, where I share my own story and how I ended up exploring this topic in the first place.  So, I abandoned world history (TEMPORARILY) and went back to the granular.

The title of Chapter One?  Disconnected.

All of the chapters have a first draft completed, but I knew there was a lot more work to be done on this one.  It couldn’t just be abstract concepts, taught in a detached manner, as if I was telling you how to hang a picture with an earthquake safe hook and cable.  I needed to tell you what I had lived and the frustration of knowing there was something missing, and having no way of knowing what it was or how to get it back.

I dug in.  With the help of a good friend who is also a writer, the chapter improved considerably throughout the day.  I did ok through most of the process, until I reached the last two sentences of the chapter.  Then I realized that my emotions were getting quite unruly.  I had not identified with my own journey quite on this level.  I have always just been driven, driven, driven to find the tools.  I needed to do some more processing myself.

And that’s the way this whole book has been.  I began writing on Christmas Day in 2013.  The lion’s share of my personal energy and time in 2014 was funneled into the writing process.  But it wasn’t just writing.  It was growing.  It was healing.  It was coming to know the God I was writing about in new and different ways.  I begin to understand even more that a creative work can be an expression of your life.  I am writing a book for you, but God is writing my story through it.

The year ahead of me fills me with anticipation for where this process will go.  Before the year is out, I hope to have a finished product!  Or, perhaps more accurately, a printed book in my hands and in yours.  This topic will only have just begun.

For the moment, though, I will pull myself back out of the world of the abstract and do something very concrete.

Build a schedule!  

It has now been a month since I returned from England, and God has been busy.

For all intents and purposes, I had finished the first draft of the book.  But I wasn’t feeling very exuberant about it.  In fact, I was feeling pretty discouraged.  It felt like it lacked something to hang it on.  The concepts were all well and good and a reader could certainly walk away with some tools they didn’t have before.  But it lacked a backbone.  Not a good place for a book to be.  Limp and flimsy is not quite what I had envisioned.

Three weekends ago, I was grinding away on the manuscript, trying to make some headway, when I got a bad case of the fidgets.  I needed some big Post-its Notes, and pronto.  Thankfully, I keep a stash on hand and was able to get some on the wall in fairly short order.  It seems that it was a Holy Spirit moment, because I can’t recreate how the thoughts came together, I can only say that they did.  God took some concepts from a book I had read and showed me how the fractal approach they used would give me the framework I needed for mine.  It was brilliant and it had nothing to do with me!  It was one of those moments when you realize that the answer was sitting right next to you all along and you just didn’t see it.

This brought a new infusion of life and I was excited again.

What’s more, I also wondered what it would be like to build every book on a fractal.  It wouldn’t have to be the same number that I chose for this book, but what if all of my creative efforts were somehow connected to this universal set of patterns?  They are clearly present in music.  I suspect they are also in architecture and other forms of art.  I wonder what would happen if I looked at my other favorite pattern, the Golden Ratio, through the grid of fractals?  This idea of using the existing structure and its properties has some very interesting possibilities.  I am excited to see where that goes, and how to find the practical application in other contexts.

Meanwhile, the wonderful world of theories and abstractions wasn’t the only place where God was working.  He was sticking His fingers into all kinds of places.  Really earthy places.  Pretty plain and simply painful, some of them.  It seems that every week for the last month and a half (including the one in England when I was supposed to be writing!) has unearthed some huge area of personal growth and healing.  I have been spending more time putting myself back together than I have doing much of anything constructive.

And that has been tough.  On the one hand, I know that what has been happening is hugely important.  One of the events was so close to the core that it left me feeling quite “at sea” for several days.  This is really big stuff for my life.  But I have a book to write, God.  Can you stop messing with my life for at least five minutes and let me write it?

This weekend was a real struggle.  I wanted to work on the new idea, but it just wouldn’t.  Finally, I talked to God about it, which I should have done about three hours earlier than I did.  The sense I got was that I can’t go there yet.  I need to let the idea soak some more.  That wasn’t quite what I wanted to hear.  So, we had a longer chat.  You know how that goes.

At the end of the day, I had to come to grips with a timeline that is different from the one I envisioned.  I set about writing a book.  God has set about transforming lives, including mine.  He cares about this story even more than I do.  He cares that people find Him, by some means or method, when they read it.  He knows what that takes, far better than I do.  He also knows that my temperament pushes me to produce, and not let it drag on for ten years.  Now I need to embrace a new dance, a new rhythm, a cadence that is heavenly orchestrated.

So, I will. (Though it might take a couple of tries with my pesky soul before I reach sheer perfection on this one!)

I am home again in California, sitting at my desk with little stacks of “to-do” piles all around me.  I returned from England on Saturday evening and am still catching up.  And it’s not just trivia, either.  My spirit and soul have a thing or two going on as well.

The first part of the trip with my Dad and brother was blessed with lovely weather, smooth travel and lots of amazing things to see in the cities and countryside.  I took them to several places I had already been, which was no hardship for me.  One of those was the Jewel House in the Tower of London.  Something deep within stirs me to tears every time I go there.  I am reminded of the kingship of our Lord, and one of my favorite pieces of symbolism in the British regalia is the orb with the cross on top.

On the first full day we were there, we went hunting for the place where the Caldecourt family bakery once stood.  According to the instructions given by some family members who still live in England, we found it.  Unfortunately, it’s a bit less inviting than it was all those years ago … it happens to be a corner slab of a parking lot in Tottenham.  But it is still a piece of our past, and we stood on the same ground as our ancestors.  That is pretty cool!

We took in a lot while we were there.  We enjoyed the London scene and all the history and amazing architecture, but I think there was a collective sigh of relief when we got to the Cornish countryside and could hike a trail without stepping on three people in front of us.  We all fell in love with pasties.  Oh my.  Talk about addicting.  Every day we looked for a pasty shop.  My mouth is watering just talking about it.  I wonder if any of those sturdy Cornish miners ever made it to California to leave their savory recipes behind?

On the Sunday before the guys left, we visited Salisbury Cathedral and caught the second half of the service.  That was a special treat and my Dad shared with me later how much it moved him to sing the songs they had chosen.

Then God gave me a precious gift.  On the way home, my Dad wrote me a long e-mail sharing how much he had enjoyed the trip and how it had impacted him and some things he could see God had been doing. Yay, God!  It had been my hope that there would be more takeaway value than just sightseeing, as enjoyable as that is.

My original plan for the second half of the trip was to work on the book.  I had rented a car and was going to try to get it and me up to the Midlands in one piece to have four full days to scribble to my heart’s content.  Sherwood Forest was calling me.

Well …

Do you remember a certain newsletter I sent out just before leaving where I said there might be a bait and switch?

Right.  Sometimes it pays to listen to one’s own self.

The entire trip had been somewhat strange in terms of my emotions.  It was not what I expected.  On my drive up to the Midlands, I tried to sort out what was going on.  Just before I left God had showed me something pretty significant related to my design, so I knew that was in the background.  Plus I had all the week before to ponder.  So, there was a lot swirling around.  On Monday afternoon and evening I tried to get myself sorted out and transition to the new focus of writing.

On Tuesday I tried to write.  Most of the day.  I went to the forest.  I walked and listened for THE spot for writing.  I found something passable.  I scribbled.  I paced and talked out loud and tried to organize my thoughts.  I ate some chocolate.

It just wasn’t happening.  Sherwood Forest or no.

It had been a long time since I was that restless.  I just couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus on writing, and frankly, didn’t want to.  That was a big surprise, since I was so excited about writing in England.  There were things churning and finally, by the end of the day Tuesday, I realized, well … change of plans.

On Wednesday I went for a drive.  I felt there was a particular place I needed to go and make some proclamations about the way God made me and how it is good and right.  That brought some measure of peace.  But the restlessness was still there.  I just wanted to move or drive or go.  I almost did leave to wander around the country for two days until it was time to come home.  But then I realized that I would be running away.  I needed to sit down and sort it out.

So, Thursday morning I did.  And God showed me a couple of foundational, and relatively painful realities about what I had blocked for most of my life.  He showed me how a major emotional pursuit was trying to fill a spot that it couldn’t possibly fill.  He revealed an area that I needed to accept would never change, and it wasn’t supposed to.  A deep truth I had to wrap my emotions around was that I couldn’t heal away something that wasn’t broken.  To accept God’s view was pretty jolting because of the lies I had believed.  It seems sometimes that it is in the blood-letting that we also find some of the greatest life and freedom.

Thursday and Friday were days to ponder and process.  I went to the forest every day and grew to love it more each time I went.  It was different from my experience with the Sequoias.  I was immediately awed by them.  In Sherwood, the growth was gentle and soothing.  I could go there when I was restless and distracted.  I could go when I needed to sort this all out.  And I could be there when I felt the stir of life in the gnarly old oaks and stands of poplars; savoring the imagination that expected them to come alive at any moment.  It was with great joy that I blessed that land on the last day I was there.

So, as far as the writing goes I have about three and a half pages of mediocre notes.  Not much to show for a week’s time.  But as far as my life goes, a core area of reconciliation that has implications for everything.  And an unshakable conviction that the book will be the better for it.

This morning I heard the lions roar from the deck of the lodge.  Two males were on the go, looking for a place sleep away the day and making their presence known in the process.

Now I sit on a hilltop overlooking the plains, the sun coming up on the left while I look out over the hills.

Today we head back to the city.  We have come up to the hilltop one more time so I can soak in the morning sun and write while the world around me wakes.  My spirit is brimming with gratitude to the God who has met me here.  It is hard to believe it has only been four days.

One of my primary objectives in coming here was to work on the foundational chapter of the book about time.  I have been here before and knew that I had a connection with the land and the stars.  For the first two days I invested deeply in worship – saturating my room with music and bundling up at night to go out and sit under the Southern Cross.  During the day I wrote, but not on the main chapter.  On the third day I knew it was time.  I came out early again to this same hilltop and the words began to flow.  Upon arriving back at the lodge I had breakfast and asked for snacks in my room.  No lunch.  It was time to lock myself away.  I wrestled and wrote and re-wrote.  By the end of the day God had given me a new frame.  It felt right.  There is still much work to be done, but somewhere in the course of the day I hit on something that mattered.  I went into the evening with the feeling that I had done what I came here for.

I came with the goal of enriching the gift that I hope the book will be, and God has given me gifts that I hadn’t expected.  More than anything is a deposit in my spirit from this land that will affect every area of my life.  I will never worship the King the same, nor forget the gift of having all the immensity of the night sky for my spirit to expand into.  He has also given back to me a facet of my writing I still had not yet access to.  What I cast away He kept safely in store; treasuring it more than I could at the time.  It is fascinating to watch my returning love for writing and my growing love for Him increase at the same time.

As you might imagine, I will leave today with mingled feelings.  On the one hand, I am looking forward to all that lies ahead.  On the other, sad to leave the land and the people who have been good to me – including the ever patient game reserve guide who sits and reads while I scribble.

Thank you for your prayers and blessings.  I know they have had an impact, and I look forward to seeing the fruit in the Kingdom.

For the moment, I am going to disappear and savor this last sunrise, celebrating the generosity of the God who causes it to rise upon our lives every day.