Walk by the Spirit

"But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.  For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do."  Galatians 5:16-17

This is the memory verse that is next up to bat for me on my phones nifty scripture memory application.  Which means that I typed it in myself some weeks ago, though I don't remember what my thoughts were at the time.  When it came up on the screen Saturday morning, I was struck by how simple and yet how powerful of a message is contained in these two little verses.  At first glance, it seems to be a simple prohibition against living in the flesh- in other words, living for the here and now and satisfying the sinful desires of the natural man (or woman).  

But after looking at it again, I realize that the passage tells us not just what to do, but how to do it.  Which is awesome, because it answers to the promise in 1 Corinthians 10:13 - "There has no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted above that you are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that you may be able to bear it."  What is our way of escape?  Living by the Spirit.

What does this mean?  Matthew Henry says, "By the Spirit here may be meant either the Holy Spirit himself... or that gracious principle which he implants in the souls of His people and which lusts against the flesh."  

And how do we accomplish living by the Spirit?  Matthew Henry again: "The best antidote against the poison of sin is to walk in the Spirit, to be much in conversing with spiritual things, to mind the things of the soul, which is the spiritual part of man, more than those of the body, which is his carnal part, to commit ourselves to the guidance of the Word, wherein the Holy Spirit makes known the will of God concerning us, and in the way of our duty to act in a dependence on His aids and influences."

So basically we are to live in a spiritual state of mind all the time.  Christianity is not a on-again off-again thing- and it's not enough to have devotions once a day and go to church once a week, either.  If we are to live by the Spirit, we must zealously pursue spiritual things until our hearts are in it. We are to live in a constant state of dependence on God, which is the only way to really escape sin.  

It makes me think of a passage from Stepping Heavenward that talks about committing even the smallest of daily actions to God, as a way of checking that we stay within His will.  It seems this would also be a good way to keep from slipping into a worldly state of mind.  Of course, I don't mean, and I'm sure that Matthew Henry and Paul didn't mean, that we are to walk around with long faces and pray for hours a day. Rather we should live with a joyful awareness of God's presence and prayerful submission to His will at ALL times.  

I think of how often during a day I think of things I want to say to my husband.  Can you imagine if we set up fifteen minutes each morning to be our only talking time for the whole day? Our relationship would fall apart, and love would cease to grow between us with so little to go on!  How much more should I talk to God.  As hard as this goal is to accomplish, I can only the blessings that would come if I could ever learn to truly walk by the Spirit.

Sneak Peak

This month I have been incredibly blessed both by the things I've been learning and doing in school, and enough extra time to participate in NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month.  Here is a very short story I wrote for school using characters from my novel.  Constructive criticism is welcome!

            The day before my first audition finally came.  I felt as though I was walking on air.  Adam said this was a literal truth, as I practiced my kicks and jumps in the hallways at school. “I just hope I’ll never have to hear ‘Danced All Night’ again once this is finished,” he added, referring to the song I’d been working on with my voice teacher.  But then he smiled his one-sided smile and bumped his shoulder against mine.

            “I really do appreciate all the help and support,” I told him, slipping my hand into his as we headed towards the high school cafeteria.  “You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.”

            “I know,” Adam grinned.  He tried hard to come across as tough by keeping his red hair a tousled mess and delivering snarky one-liners at every opportunity.  But he ruined the effect by dating me.  I was a home grown country gal with honey-blonde hair and an addiction to vintage 50’s clothing. 

            After school, Adam dropped me off at the big blue farmhouse where my family and I had lived all my life.  I waved goodbye to him on the front porch, then paused to breathe in the scent of pine and growing things.  It was so beautiful here, with the expanse of sky overhead and the trees hemming us in on all sides.  It made me wonder why I so desperately craved the flashing lights and crowded rooms of stage life.  With that thought, a rush of nervousness for tomorrow washed over me.  There was only one cure for that kind of anxiety, and I knew exactly what it was.

            I turned and went inside, the screen door banging shut behind me.  Mom was in the kitchen, and I greeted her hurriedly before rushing up the narrow stair way to my attic bedroom.  The little room had a wooden ceiling that came to a point in the middle and was wall covered in blue and red wallpaper from my childhood.  I tossed my backpack on the bed and grabbed a bulging folder of CD’s from the window seat, flipping through them until I found one labeled “SONGS TO SING AND DANCE TO” in pink sharpie.  This I put into the boom box on the floor, plugging in my headphones and putting them on over my hair.

As the first couple of notes of a Mahalia Jackson gospel tune began to play, they had a kind of healing effect on me.  I picked up the CD player and drug it over to the vanity table where my makeup and cosmetics sat, tilting the mirror back so that I could see myself in the reflection.  I grabbed a bottle of hair spray to use as a make-shift microphone and began to sing into it, belting out each note with reckless abandon.  I didn’t care that it probably sounded terrible at first, I just sang to release the built up tension and excitement in me. 

After that it was a Disney love song, followed by a classic Kelly Clarkston don’t-mess-with-me tune.  As I sang, I played all the parts, from self-righteous gospel singer to Princess to empowered female pop star.  It wasn’t that I was acting; I was feeling through the music.  In the space of half an hour I traveled through time to many different parts of the world, and to some worlds that didn’t even exist.  And as I became those other girls, it was as though I could feel everything they felt.  Almost as though I was making up the words rather than reciting them from memory.

By the time the CD finally skidded to a halt, I was exhausted.  In the sudden silence that followed, I sank onto the stool in front of the vanity and looked at my flushed face.  It no longer seemed such a sacrifice to walk away from one cozy life in the woods.  On stage I could live countless lives and stories, and be countless different people.  Perhaps there were nobler callings, but this was the truest part of me.

            The next day Adam picked me up at ten o’clock and drove me to Federal Way for my audition. “I’ll be right here waiting for you,” he told me as we parted ways in the parking lot.  We were at a local High School, and the place seemed eerie without any students in it.  I followed the sound of a piano to the theatre, which was much bigger than our school’s auditorium.  The room was mostly black, with a spotlight on the stage.  I slid into the front row and waited for my turn to sing.

            “Allison Morris?” they called at last.

            “Here,” I squeaked, scrambling to my feet. 

            “You’re next,” said the director, a middle-aged woman with a striped scarf wrapped around her neck.

            I hurried up the steps to the stage and stepped into the spot light.

            They asked me what I was going to sing, and I answered while handing the sheet music to the pianist. 

            “Miss Morris,” asked the director, peering out at me from behind a desk set up in the center isle.  A small lamp lightered her face from below, casting odd shadows across her cheeks.  “Why do you want to play the roll of Eliza Doolittle?”

            “I don’t want to play anything,” I replied.  “I just want to BE her, for a little while.”

            “Very good,” she replied, smiling a little.  “Let’s see how you do.”

            The pianist began to play, and I opened my mouth and transformed.

Six Reasons Why

As I look out my window on this election morning, I see piles and piles of leaves blanketing the ground and a light fog hanging over the rooftops of this town.  It is a magical sight, and makes me think of waking up at my parent's house on Thanksgiving morning to the smell of cooking turkey and the sound of the parade on TV.  Every season of the year has it's magic, but none is greater than this.

And as I eagerly await the results of this election, more out of curiosity than any kind of strong hope one way or the other, my sluggish mind is trying to wrap its self around post-modern ideas about writing as presented in my online classes.  It's the last thing I want to be doing right now.  Falling asleep next to the space heater, reading some C.S. Lewis, or bundling up for a run in the crisp fall air sound far more appealing.  But I know that I'm learning a lot at this school, both by way of technical craft and by way of philosophy, if only by learning exactly what I am not.  So before I go back to competing with far greater minds than mine on the online discussion boards, I feel the need to establish very clearly why it is that I write.

I write to capture beauty.

Philippians 4:8 - "Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy- meditate on these things."

I understand that life is not all sunshine and roses.  Indeed if it were, there would be no such thing as plot!  Grief, suffering, physical pain, emotional pain, and war all have their place in the tales of this world.  Writing about these things in order to make a point is all well and good, but I will not explore scenes of misery, death, decay, and disorder merely for the sake of exploring them.  There is always hope in this world, because Christ came to save sinners. I want to find the beauty in things and capture them in words, transporting readers to a world which is broken, but worth saving- just like ours.

I write to move people.
Words are powerful, and the right story can help us to deal with things that we have trouble facing in real life.  Emotions aren't everything, but they can also lead to actions, and if I can inspire just a few people to have more hope, faith, or joy in this life than I will be satisfied.

I write to show the triumph of good over evil.
It might be cliche, but I've read too many books and seen too many movies where the line between good and evil is blurred.  Main characters have serious character flaws, all in the name of realism, but they are excusable because of his ultimate triumph.  The bad guy is only a few shades darker than the hero, or perhaps in the end he was a better man all together. These are not the kinds of stories I want my children to grow up reading!  I wish more people would write stories about the knight in shinning armor, who struggles against the evil within him but ultimately does what is right.

I write for a healthy escape.
For now, the escape is for me, but maybe someday it will provide escape for others, too. I'm not one to bash social media, but I do think we live in a time where the temptation to waste time is paramount.  Engaging in stories keeps my mind sharp and imagination fresh, which is profitable in it's place.  It also helps to keep me sane in a world of to-do lists and endless engagements.  Too much reality isn't good for anyone!

I write to provoke thought.
Novels may not be the best forum for preaching, but they can be a sort of "trojan horse" to convey important ethical, moral, and Biblical lessons.  I hope not just to write fluff which tickles the fancy of the reader- I want to leave them with something to chew on.

And last but not least...

I write to reflect the glory of God.
Our God is a God of beauty, of creation, of imagination, and of stories.  The first and most fundamental plot structure is that of this world- created, fallen, redeemed, and one day, restored.  I recognize that there may be far more important tasks which God may have for me to do than writing stories, and I certainly don't think of this as a heavenly calling or anything like that.  But I believe it glorifies Him when His created beings exercise the creative capacity He gave us to create things that magnify His creation, His work, and His person. I hope that the things that I write will cause my own heart and the hearts of others to love Him more!