How many times will I begin again, O’ Lord?

I can see each start and stop, each attempt to create and grow weary.  Because of life, and busyness—when my desire and Yours don’t meet up.  Maybe because the inspiration to write and be a “writer”, or whatever didn’t come to me quick enough.  My efforts weren’t received or cared for, by myself or others.  I was lazy with my craft.  I had an idea, but lost it in the weight of care or attention span.  

There are so many reasons I quit.  They all seemed worthy and good at the time.  Most, though, just slid into the rhythms of my life.

Lord, I believe this is true for all those who create.  We have a vivid vision for our life and what we are to do with it.  We are to live wild and unkempt.  Riding off each beautiful sunset, each moment that took our breath away, each point in time where we felt like we had something to offer the world from our little painted corner of it.  And it would be meaningful and useful and life changing.  In each of these rare instances, I have seen the end and thought—what does this really bring to the world?  

I saw no real usefulness in more creation and I had too much real work to do, so I stopped.  

My Petition: 

Creator of Heaven and Earth—

To begin is a scary place.  To begin, again—one that is fearful still.  The bends in the road are scarier because I remember the failure I found in those places, and I recall the shattering realization that I “could not”.  I “did not”.  So, to begin again, to walk down a dream, is heavy footing.  It is weariness creeping in too early in the climb.  It is all the creative attempts, starts and stops, that leer at you.

Remind me that you finish everything you begin, Lord.  

In me.  In my life.  The last final stroke is yours to make, and it bows to no ones time tables or expectations.  

Your making something out of nothing every moment of my life.  Beyond six days and rest—you have always been doing a deeper creation in the lives of your children.  

Remind me, Lord.  My creative spirit is not my possession.  It is not the crown of my identity.  It is simply your time-beyond-time image burning away the edges of my own need for identity and worth.  

Remind me—I create because you are re-making me.  Each day you are breaking and shaping.  You are turning me less into one who jumps in fright at perceived past failures.  You are causing me to stare resolutely into a new beginning, as blinding as a star.  For the opportunity to create and look like you, again. 

I am asking You for the strength to keep going this time.  For the discipline to create even when I don’t feel like I have anything to offer.  For the freedom to create things that aren’t beautiful, for words that don’t come easy, for pictures and whole bodies that go nowhere.  I am asking both to not take myself too seriously, while at the same time, holding onto the seriousness of a calling to create.  I am asking that these words will be bigger than me, and also remind me that I am small against your tapestry.  

I am asking that in every attempt, every step forward on this new, yet worn journey, your beautiful character of The God Who Creates, would be somehow adorned.  That you would take a feeble mind and hands, and make them into something to sing about, something glorious, something that causes another traveler to know—

There is a God in the heavens, and He is Good.   

There is a workmanship greater than my answers for meaning and purpose.  Mine are much shallower than I care to look at.  Lord, yours have always been to get me acquainted with my limits and to bring me to a place where I “can no longer”, but I see that You can.  Even as we create, we must be present with our neediness.  In our illusion of self-sufficient expression, the heart that is yours, has no beat on its own.  What can I possibly make with this mind and this heart that could make anything come to life without You, my Lord and my God?

Here is my petition, Lord.  To begin again.  To write, to create, to express who You are.  To me and in every little way in my life, again.   

Amen.