obedience

Seeing and Being Seen

Abuse Survivor, Art, artist calendar, bravery, calendar, Children, courage, creativity, curiousity, Faith, grandchildren, hope, obedience, Redemption, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, walking, wisdom, writing

Jesus Saw

My grandson wanted his mommy to stay home. It took a bit to help him get to a place of accepting it would be the two of us for just a bit. I held him close, hand on his back and my cheek against his head.

“I know. I know.” I said.

Homemade pizza for breakfast softened his little longing and then within minutes he said , “G’Ma let’s paint!” 

I painted. He continued his fascination with paper and Elmer’s glue. 

Earlier,  my not yet daylight drive brought thoughts that became a string of connectedness and a new way to see a longing I’ve always known. 

The longing to be seen.

Late afternoon now and I’m thinking of how the hurts we experience or the lack we may have known are parts of stories we do very well to come to terms with even if we’re never able to make them make sense. 

I walked without sound other than the leaves rustled up by the wind. I realized I should never go back to noise in my ears on my walks again. 

I’m beginning to think more clearly, to love making sense of things and then putting words to them. To love writing again. (Doing my best to have intentionality in writing here)

A memory came as I walked. One so clear it could’ve been that very October day so many years ago.

There are countless memories I can’t grasp and I’m afraid even more I wish my mind would loosen its grip on. 

I told a friend yesterday that I often think of quitting when it comes to creative expression. I told her I knew I could not. I knew I never would. I knew it might always be a painful thorn for me, the reality of the way it pains me emotionally to feel unseen, worse yet ignored or rejected. 

I know the reasons why and that knowing helps me take very good care of this tender ache. All the same, I wish it did not pain me so after so very long. 

I remembered that memory too hard to share, better kept to myself and I told myself gently it’s a gracious miracle that you are here and that you’re an artist. 

And that little chat with myself as I walked is a beautiful truth.

I certainly know it’s only my “being seen and known” by God all along the way that has both equipped me and generously given so very much. 

I heard two women on a podcast today talking about mountains and valleys. I heard one talk about Moses not making it to the promised land after all he’d struggled to do in obedience and all the years of wilderness wandering with people he was called to lead who were not always grateful followers. 

The podcast hosts talked of how that seemed to them so very wrong, so unfair to Moses. But who are they, who are we to get to decide how far God will let someone’s dream/calling come to fruition? 

After all, God is God and we are not. 

I listened as the woman continued. She had a catch in her voice as she began to share the realization that gave her immeasurable hope. 

She read about another time Moses is mentioned. This time he is right beside Elijah and alongside Jesus as our Father God proclaimed, “This is my Son”. 

And so, the realization came that after forty earthly years, Moses did not enter the promised land but we get to be sure he made it. The promise was fulfilled. 

I remembered this podcast while walking and I remember driving back home on the same “grandma day” road as I felt my eyes become wet with tears. 

A thought came. 

I will be painting in heaven, in heaven I will paint. 

I remembered the early morning thought alongside this confidence. I thought of my longing to be seen, how I’m trying to understand the need in ways that I can grow from. 

Three people came to mind. The man paralyzed on a mat, Zacchaeus, and the woman with the blood stained clothes. 

I thought of the man lying flat on his back while others bathed in a pool that led to healing. Because he’d been an invalid for so many years I wondered if there were days others tried to either convince him to try or actually helped him into the water and then, after a while he’d developed a reputation. Maybe onlookers concluded he’d accepted his debilitating condition, no need to try, just look away.

But, Jesus came one day and told him, “Get up”. Sort of I know you’ve been here a long time and it makes no sense now to try, but I see you. I want you to try. 

“Jesus saw him laying there…” John 5:6-7

I think of a tax collector, a man with a reputation who maybe wanted to undo all of his greed motivated wrongs. A man climbed a tree just to see Jesus. Jesus looked up. Jesus saw him and changed his life. 

“And when Jesus came to the place, he looked up…”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭19‬:‭5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I think about the woman in blood covered garments in the midst of a curious throng. She didn’t want to be noticed by anyone, just get close to Jesus. No one paused to see her, a woman desperate and dirty. But, Jesus felt her reaching for him and then he turned and saw her. 

“Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, “Take heart, daughter…”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭9‬:‭22‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’ve just finished up three collages layered deeply with torn paper and another painting has been sealed. My idea for abstracts telling the story of God’s enclosure of us in His fold is in the initial brushstroke phase. 

I’ve just proofed the 2026 Calendar and I’m a bit joyous over its beauty. Even more over the hope that the artwork inspired by “Whatever is lovely…” (Philippians 4:6-9) will be a hopeful mainstay for others. 

You can purchase a calendar here:

2026 Calendar

“Artist and writer”, a tagline on a letter I just sent as an introduction to my writing hopes. 

I won’t lose heart. I will always hope and hope I see others in ways that they need.

I pray my words and my art offer hope.

Listen

Abuse Survivor, aging, book review, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Holy Spirit, hope, love, memoir, obedience, Peace, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder
The Still Small Voice

I pulled her book from the shelf with the others, dusty and turned with the red spine toward the wall, because I like simplicity, only the ivory color exposed.

How do I know which books are there?

I have to be a seeker.

On the first page is the author’s signature and a note from when we met years ago,

“God 1st!”

This morning, well rested, I glanced over and saw the book waiting for my devotion of seemingly wasteful time to sit still and read. There’s so many other things to do.

Coffee first and journaling then I turned to Colossians and a familiar few verses.

“Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.”
‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3‬:‭2‬-‭3‬ ‭

A resigned and contemplative shape of a woman in the left margin and notes to self on the edges about how to love others, how to think, how to live.

Now I’m just thinking about the thinking part, about setting my mind on things above.

And the page I could fill of all the things I want here on earth more than I want God.

Naturally, I made a list because I so love a list.

Then summed up what I believe these verses are saying and what this book waiting to be read again, adding new underlines and “oh’s”.

We want “bestness”

To be our very best

and so we look for the path to being best. We look everywhere for evidence of such “bestness” and we don’t really have to look for long.

A screen will pop up with suggestions for pros to help you with being your best. Your inbox will give you instructions from someone who’s an expert on what is the measure of your best and they’re ready to bring you along.

A podcast will guide you in understanding your “number”, your personal markers of trauma and will offer to help you erase that mark in time.

Toward Hope Collection https://thescoutedstudio.com/collections/lisa-anne-tindal-1

These are helpful, they are valuable and yet, not givers of that certain and essential quiet hope that feels like a tender and sweet secret.

Seems we’re all aching, yearning, researching, and striving for “bestness” and maybe in our quests we drown out or subtly buffer the expert voice within, the quiet unwavering, not “in your face”, unchanging, uncomplicated voice of God, our Creator, the very author of our unfinished book.

We have a bend towards not being needy, of believing we should be far enough along to not need and absolutely not to ask for help.

We (maybe just me) are timid in acknowledging we still struggle, we still look for evidence of our value in many things, we still wish we were farther along in our walk with with God, after all.

We resist circling back and beginning yet again which is crazy because it’s in the necessity of just us and God knowing this that we can have a sweet and private revival.

It’s a simple Sunday. The birds are singing. It’s a stay home day.

Later, I’ll open the book with my name inside and I’ll begin again, the wisdom in the admission of the need for revival.

“I Want God”, by Lisa Whittle

https://www.lisawhittle.com/books

Because I’m sixty-three years old and in my life, I’ve done a whole lot of growing and am a pretty good “knower” of me.

But, God knows me better.

Knows me more.

You too.

We are loved.

Continue and believe.

God knows you more, loves you with a merciful call every day.

“When you turn to the right or turn to the left, you will hear his voice behind you to guide you, saying, “This is the right path; follow it.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭21‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Wounded Weepers and Seekers

aging, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, Holy Spirit, obedience, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

I wondered as I refreshed my memory on the prophet Jeremiah, why he’d been marked with the identity of the “weeping prophet”.

“You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.”
‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29‬:‭13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

His call was to restore the people he loved to a relationship with God the creator rather than pursuit of other gods and things.

He wasn’t very successful. His success was committed obedience regardless.

Strange Waking Words

Jeremiah asks, “Is there no physician there? Is there no balm in Gilead…why then has the health of my people not been restored?” (Jeremiah 8:18-22)

On Tuesday morning, God woke me with a promise, “there is a balm in Gilead”.

A lingering cough and congestion with no other symptoms caused me to decide I’m getting older and I just don’t bounce back as quickly. Still, it was strange to wake with that very first thought.

Clearly, my heart was in need as well as my body.

Still, strange if it’s difficult to believe what you can’t see…that Jesus lives within us, the Holy Spirit…the comforter.

So, to be told, “Lisa, there is a balm in Gilead.” (just that clearly) was to remind me of the Healer of all my wounds, those already well and those in the process of true wellness.

I had no idea. I understand balm as sort of a salve like Neosporin but no clue about Gilead.

I discovered there’s no verse with this promise, only one that questioned why wasn’t there, why was there no balm?

And old hymn came from this same wondering of someone long ago…

“There Is A Balm In Gilead”

Traditional Spiritual

There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole, there is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.
Sometimes I feel discouraged and think my work’s in vain, but then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole, there is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.
If you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul, you can tell the love of Jesus and say, “He died for all.”

So, I sketched a wounded and contemplative woman in the margin, the words alongside her…There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole.

She’s thoughtful, a wonderer.

That’s a beautiful promise.

Listen

Lord, I was near enough to your heart to hear this the other morning. Draw me nearer, I pray. Help me to be a seeker.

Jeremiah penned the verses adorning well wishing cards at graduation, the ones that proclaim we all have a purpose and I wonder; actually, I believe he questioned his purpose when it didn’t pan out, when it seemed it nor he made a difference in his calling.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”
‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29‬:‭11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There’s not always a straight path, life circumvents what we hoped would be our future or at least would give us hope.

Jeremiah wondered why there was no healing, no physician, no balm in Gilead and centuries later, someone penned the words to a hymn that promised healing, one that said, there wasn’t a balm then; but, then came Jesus.

And Jesus woke with me the words to that very song.

Strange? Not at all.

A wounded seeker He knew was in need.

Continue and believe.

You are so very loved.

Glimmers

Abuse Survivor, Art, birthday, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, obedience, painting, patience, Redemption, Vulnerability, walking, wonder, writing
Home

The way it shimmered caused me to pause. If the movement made a sound it’d be like the rhythmic lapping of the water caused by my body in the pool.

The slight breeze from the air conditioner vent caused a silver dancing curlicue in front of me as I drove.

I was captivated.

What before would prompt brooding, a sign of acceptance, I saw as beauty.

One or three thin strands of my hair, not brown but grey.

Dancing in my periphery.

I’m talking about turning 63 like it’s tomorrow and at the same time overjoyed to discover the biblical meaning of August, my birth month, is “restoration”.

I’m considering the bravery of not feeling old, instead feeling ready.

I have thoughts to share with others, I encounter people who engage with my story and with others whose plight tells me my story might bring comfort,

Might compel them to keep living

To keep growing older.

To continue and believe.

This month I’m leaving WordPress.

I’m thinking of change, of blogging about not just art, but my thoughts on faith on my art website. I’m tender over it.

I love my blog. Still, it makes sense as I acknowledge the overlap, the connection, God’s instrumental hand on my life. Maybe he’s calling me to simplify,

maybe he’s calling me to growth.

My writing and my art will abide together in the same home.

I don’t know which direction my art or my writing will go.

I just know I’m captivated by the glimmers.

Glimmers of hope

That say “keep going”.

If you’d like to follow me as I move forward, visit the About page at http://www.lisaannetindal.me and SUBSCRIBE.

Already Known

anxiety, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

It’s both awesome and awful to realize just how completely we are known by God

From our first breath to here.

I stood at the kitchen window and noticed the lime green glow of Spring on the grass.

The trees.

I remembered the sycamore tree, the hand sized leaves and the broken branches.

Thirty-plus years ago, I cut down branches heavy with green leaves and decorated a tiny cinder block room.

There was a grand plan. I’d be teaching children about the man who climbed the tree to get a chance to see Jesus, Zacchaeus.

It would be my first time as a Vacation Bible School teacher and I was intent on winning best decorated classroom.

The first night, a line of children trailing me down the hall, I giddily swung open the door to discover a disaster.

Leaves wilted and woeful covered the floor and the stench was unbearable in the poorly ventilated room.

I don’t remember teaching the children about a greedy man who got to see Jesus and then fed him supper.

I remember who I was then and am grateful to be not quite the same today.

Just as Jesus knew Zacchaeus was hated by many, was sneaky, corrupt and greedy, He knew I was just learning back then.

Just learning what matters to Him.

Not fully grown, but fully known.

We are already known. The secrets, the shame, the actions we take wrongly motivated,

Jesus is not surprised and doesn’t keep a record. It’s we who do.

My mama used to say, Lisa, stress’ll kill you. I’m here to say I believe its not so distant cousin, shame is more fatal.

The Woman at the Well in the heat of the day encounters a man who shouldn’t be there. She calculated her replenishing of her water to go to the well when she could go unnoticed.

She is surprised by a man who tells her he can help. He has a certain kind of water that won’t run out, she’d never have to be sneaky again in coming to the well.

“Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭13‬-‭14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

She’d never have to be thirsty again. She decides to accept the stranger’s offer.

“Please, sir,” the woman said, “give me this water! Then I’ll never be thirsty again, and I won’t have to come here to get water.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And we know Jesus wasn’t talking about a cool drink of ice water on a humid day. He was talking about the refreshing peace of an abundant life.

Jesus tells the woman to go and get her husband and come back. She tells him she’s not married and he answers with “I know.”

Then he tells her what he does know. That she has a reputation and is well known for being with husbands of others and is now with a married man.

Whoa! or “How dare you?” she could’ve said.

She was brazen after all.

But he continued to enlighten her and she listened, connecting his gentle wisdom with the possibility he might be the Messiah.

So, he told her that indeed he was.

“The woman said, “I know the Messiah is coming—the one who is called Christ. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.” Then Jesus told her, “I Am the Messiah!”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭25‬-‭26‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Then she is overjoyed and goes to tell all the townspeople what they already knew about her she’d tried to avoid.

The reputation she tried to cover was now a proclamation…you’ve got to meet Jesus!

“Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me all that I ever did.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭39‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There was no shame anymore, only her story.

Only a tax collector’s, a disciple’s who denied and regretted, a woman’s wearing shame and a lascivious reputation.

A woman like me who didn’t know anything about the value of the story of Zacchaeus, only wanted to be noticed because of trees in a room.

God is patient. He already knew and knows our journeys.

Yesterday, I stood in the parking lot with a woman. As women our age do, we caught up on the lives of our children. We compared wisdom and we exchanged worries.

She asked me to keep writing.

Said she needed my storytelling.

My story of rescue and of tripping and getting back up gradually as I learn.

Today, when you recall your own mistakes, missteps and wrong motivations, will you pause with the truth of being known?

Will you accept the grace that has never said give up, go your own way or isolate in secret shame?

And he gives grace generously. James 4:6

Will you decide to know that being known is love?

You’re already known.

Continue and believe.

Walking Thoughts

Abuse Survivor, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grace, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, walking, wisdom, wonder

“Endurance is not a desperate hanging on but a traveling from strength to strength.” Eugene Peterson

Why am I less moved by the sky, the clouds fluffed or swept like a feather?

Out walking yesterday, I wondered.

Just a few years ago I was moved by gnarly branches on an old pecan tree, scattered white blooms on the asphalt trail or maybe a solitary leaf dried so completely by the sun it glistened metallic.

Noticing God, I called this.

Why so hurried in an irritable way now?

A daily habit that over time seems to be sort of furious?

Walking too fast, too angrily hurry, hurry, hurrying to some better destination.

Better days?

The place with no remnants of pandemic.

The better place, the place with no residue or remembrance of what happened or who or what didn’t come through.

Couldn’t be counted on.

On Wednesday, my path crossed a Target shopper leaving. Her phone on her cheek, she passed me, quick as a rabbit and I overheard her tell somebody “what the Republicans did today!”

And I wondered, when did we ever in our lives finish up a midweek shopping trip and urgently report to someone what a Republican did today?

A woman, about my age, distressed on a pretty day about the government.

We are different now.

I am learning.

Learning still. I can embrace a thought that now makes my response to trauma make more sense.

I can befriend these surprising revelations.

I can toss them over in my mind and see the value in finally beginning to understand my own tender heart and behaviors.

I can allow truth to make sense.

Today, the sky was striated pink and to the right rested the remnant of moon, a crescent.

I couldn’t look away.

It kept getting better.

Too splendid to capture in a photo, I stood solid footed and I watched.

Unhurried, only noticing.

Noticing God again.

Maybe that’s what obedience is and not some frenetic race to keep on, keep on, keep on.

Maybe obedience is noticing splendor, noticing God.

Knowing that where you are in this very never to be repeated moment.

You are loved.

Continue and believe.

Pass it on, this slow walk called noticing.

“And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Walking this way again.

Noticing.

You are loved.

It’s my hope that you know this.

Powerful Things

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, birds, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mixed media painting, obedience, painting, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I did the most silly, most powerful thing the other day. I changed the description in my Pinterest profile back to what it was originally.

Powerful? Silly? Yes, both. I edited the words characterizing me as an author and artist and I went back to the grander aspiration.

Hope.

Works on Paper

Lisa Anne Tindal, artist returned to “Artist and writer longing for a little white house near the ocean.”

Longings leading my heart back to me.

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭16:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“Come back, daughter.” my Heavenly Father keeps saying to me.

My Notes app became my diary at the beach, a call to smaller, more lasting things.

Nothing aspirational only thoughts of those around me, my line of thinking, line of prayer meandered from galleries, Italian art tours, and pricing my art in a way that measures its worth not just a sale.

We walked down the quiet street and discovered a white heron, gracious in its stance. The creek was quiet, the bird shaded and shielded by old overgrown cedar limbs as I knelt with a three year old resting against my chest.

I told her I was so happy for this gift, this peace today in a white elegant bird.

So, my prayer because God hears them. If possible and good for us, I’d love to have a seaside house for those I love to gather.

To gather again.

To search for the white bird daily.

White Bird

To paint on paper bags, be surprised by God again, to be visited by birds and song.

Aspirations so small and mighty.

So settled, not seeking.

So confident of my heart’s desires being known by my very kind Father.

Last weekend, I responded to the question of when I became an artist with the truth of flunking out of college, losing my art scholarship because of hard things and harm and then working hard as a helper of families before, in my 50’s, coming back to art.

There’s truth there, but even more in the realization,

I’ve always been an artist in the very same way I was told “You’ve always been brave.”

Paper Bag Works

I did a powerful silly thing. I changed my Pinterest bio back to the true, although dreamy thing.

To be an artist with a little white house near the ocean.

To gather. To paint.

To search for the white bird with my family.

“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Esther

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Story one in the series of “Weak Made Strong” monthly blogs

Recently, I heard someone speak of the “Strengths Finder” assessment and I remember years ago taking the test, being given the guide book to better understanding your strengths and making changes to make your weaknesses less weak.

I can’t recall my scores, but I began to think of attributes of mine that I considered weaknesses.

Naturally, I made a list. Just as quickly, I countered each trait with a contrast, a different view.

Sensitive, too transparent and “in my head” became empathetic, authentic and contemplative.

I reframed my barriers to the real life evidence of my tools. I rethought the hardships life had caused me to be avenues towards resilient strength.

Esther was orphaned by both parents and raised by a cousin. She found herself amongst a bevy of beauties competing to be chosen. She was a listener and an observer. She paid attention. She recognized that courage often cannot often be delayed.

I think of the well known verse,

“…Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?””
‭‭Esther‬ ‭4:14‬ ‭NLT‬‬

A verse that’s prompted many of us to be brave, be wise, be responsive because we believe whatever circumstance that is calling forth our bravery

We were chosen for it.

And that acceptance of whatever brave thing it is, is strength.

Is weakness moving towards strength.

I am far from a theologian, even less a historian. I simply love reading the stories of women who had lots to overcome or lots to move beyond. I rarely expound on the interpretation of scripture. I’m not wise enough, but I sure do love seeing myself in others.

Women who had weaknesses, but became strong.

What holds you back?

For me, it’s age.

I decide I’m not “on my mental game” enough to be the things God keeps telling me not to pack away. So, I keep them close, I don’t give up. However, I am very slow to try again.

What can you resume or bravely begin that you’ve convinced yourself it’s not yours to do, you’re just too weak, too old, too unskilled

too ___________.

I hope you’ll follow me here for a new story of a woman in the Bible each month.

Women (and men) like us,

Weak made strong.

Gentle, Be Gentle

Children, confidence, contentment, Faith, family, memoir, obedience, Prayer, Vulnerability

Out walking without music or talking in my ears, I thought of prayer.

I prayed for betterment of me, things I’d acknowledged and lessons accepted, although hard and jolting, their truth.

This is growth. This is good.

So, how I wondered, is the right way to pray for those important to you, because of blood, heart, soul, breath and truth?

Or those you care for either in person or just because of similarities.

How do you pray for those who believed, but aren’t so sure these days, these days that will be honest with us if we’ll let them.

truth that came

Or for those who refused to ever believe in a way too mysterious truth.

Gently, you pray.

“Gentle, gentle…” I said countless times to my granddaughter.

It was their second meeting and the kitten wasn’t quite sure.

The toddler was excited, emphatic and ready.

The kitten accepted her.

Give and take, trust building gently.

Friends

I thought out walking, no noise save my breath and my steps.

The best prayer?

The prayer that’s gentle, the one that asks God to come near, says it is safe.

You’re safe.

A prayer that flows from a thought and

either reminds or acquaints.

Either way, the prayer I will pray is the one I’ve only newly begun to know.

You are loved. You are known.

And like a P.S. after the amen

I’d say Lord, help them know this sooner than later even though any time is good.

Be gentle, my Heavenly Father.

Be gentle and come near. Invite a reunion or a relationship.

A remembrance, gently.

All along, you’ve been loved.

Glad you’re here. Stay near.

What a gentle Lord I know.

Lord, help those I love and those I don’t know to know your gentle love.

A Better Fame

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, Forgiveness, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mixed media painting, obedience, painting, Peace, rest, surrender, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Who can you think of past or present who is famous because of their peace, the most indescribably unknown person you know?

“These are treasures no bird of prey can see, no falcon’s eye observe.”
‭‭Job‬ ‭28:7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“Bethesda”

I spoke with an author of three books recently. I sensed the ache in his voice as he told me about his writing after I talked about mine, the children’s book inspired by Matthew 6:26. We agreed to sell a lot of books, you must be famous, have a website with a bookoo of followers and be good at talking about yourself.

Just the conversation between us about self/book promotion was hard.

Before sunrise today, I thought of just how contradictory that seems. I’ve read lots of Christian books, some sort of trendy and insubstantial and some very resonant and worth returning to.

I thought of how we, as far as I interpret the words of Jesus, are not supposed to want to be famous.

When we say

“Make Jesus famous, not me!”

We’re supposed to be able to mean it.

And yet, an agent won’t return an email and a query goes unread because you have less than 5000 Instagram followers.

A few weeks ago, I had a skip in my step, a sense of a really cool possible art opportunity.

Time passed and it faded to “oh,well…”

I’ll reference trauma once here and that’ll be it.

If your needs went unnoticed as a child or young adult and you get well enough to try expression of your needs and talents again and nothing happens…

You decide it’s better to be invisible again.

Because invisible is what you know.

But, now this self-awareness feels less achingly deficient and more like

a better fame.

A realization of what I decided was my “treasure” was not my treasure at all.

Years ago, when I began writing, my heart set on a memoir about the possibility of hope, I was starry-eyed and optimistic and I told myself don’t be a chatty little woman who writes about Jesus.

Be authentic. Be real. Be truthful but not so truthful you hinder another’s hope.

And I thought I’d write a book about it all.

Now, I realize I may not.

Because the truth, my truth I am learning to be okay with is,

I don’t think I want to be famous. I think I’d rather be quiet.

That admission may be the kiss of death to being a published author or it may be the breath of heavenly fresh air to a weary striving soul.

Because writing, painting, being a published author are not my treasures, my peace and my peaceful sharing of my healing are. They are the treasures I hold and occasionally share in hopes of stirring curiosity over the same treasure for others.

I won’t stop writing and I won’t stop painting, often with crayon.

I’m just certain being a person who can be found by name on Amazon as an author or who has art that can be searched for and purchased has given me a taste of fame.

But never has fame made me famous, instead only made me wanting more.

Thirsty for recognition, parched for praise and aching for a dollar sign saying success next to something I made.

Eight years blogging. I suppose it’s fitting to write honestly today.

That feels like a quiet celebration.

Keep writing. It’s good to continue quietly and to believe.

Because healing is not dependent on fame, only on believing, believing like the lame man on the banks of the Bethesda.

“When Jesus saw him lying there, he knew that the man had been crippled for a long time. Jesus said to him, “Do you truly long to be well?” The sick man answered, “Sir, there’s no way I can get healed, for I have no one to lower me into the water when the angel comes. As soon as I try to crawl to the edge of the pool, someone else jumps in ahead of me.” Jesus said to him, “Stand up! Pick up your sleeping mat and you will walk!” Immediately he stood up—he was healed! So he rolled up his mat and walked again! Now Jesus worked this miracle on the Sabbath.”
‭‭John‬ ‭5:6-9‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Be well.