Archives For Imagination

“How much?” the pastor jolted upright in his leather chair.

“Forty-thousand dollars,” she said.

“But…” he readjusted his glasses, “…why would…that many wouldn’t even fit in the church.”

“You might be surprised how much it costs to ship the best orchids, gazanias, and cherry blossoms from Brazil, South Africa, and Japan. Specialty flowers, you know, are my business.”

“But…” the pastor’s hand, having left his glasses, hung in mid air, “why not donate that money somewhere else…the building fund…some missionaries…the homeless shelter?” 

“I want to give God something beautiful.” 

“But, they’ll just die.”

“I know.” 

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it again. “It just seems…” He faltered.

“…like a waste?” she said. 

He cleared his throat and looked away. 

*    *    *    *    * 

Photo 1447279506476 3faec8071eeePhoto courtesy of Jorge Zapata via unsplash.com 

As American Christians, we’re likely to sympathize with the pastor—unless, we find the same story in Matthew 26. There we find ointment instead of flowers, disciples instead of a pastor, and a woman wanting to do something beautiful for Jesus. 


Familiarity, they say, breeds contempt, but when it comes to Bible, familiarity makes us numb to the shock of the story. A year’s wages for five minutes of worship. Hundreds of poor people that could have been fed for months. Religious onlookers who thought they knew better. How would Jesus respond Continue Reading…

 

The last couple years, Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday has made me squirm. While I love listening to King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, it’s the other dream that bothers me, God’s dream, the one in Revelation 5, that salad bowl in heaven where people of every skin tone are tossed in together and worshipping side by side. It unsettles me, because my life and church look more like a bowl of Breyer’s Cookies and Cream, light on the cookies. 

 

Photo 1452693051753 f0acd4cfe723Photo courtesy of Pumpkins via unsplash.com

 

When I listen to King’s dream, I can feel good about the fact that two of my best friends have been an African American and Korean American. I can feel proud of my great grandmother from Canada who told me how her town, one of the final stops on the underground railway, helped runaway slaves integrate into society. 

 

When I listen to God’s dream, though, I find myself asking some hard questions, like whether my mostly white church should be mostly white. Or, whether it’s enough to enjoy diversity without taking any steps to heal the racial issues in my country Continue Reading…

What pops into your head when you see the word…

 

Imagination. 

 

Today, it makes me think of The Princess Bride with its ROUS’s and six-fingered man. Most of us are happy to pass off imagination to Hollywood, artists, and six-year-olds pretending to be Queen Elsa. But, when it comes to the serious concerns of adult life, imagination seems out of place. Just consider these odd couples:

 

Family + Imagination

 

Work + Imagination

             

Religion + Imagination

 Photo 1441716844725 09cedc13a4e7

Photo courtesy of Joshua Earle via unsplash.com

 

Modern-day Evangelicalism hasn’t helped. At best, when Christianity bumps into imagination the two share an awkward hug. (Facing the Giants, anyone?) At worst, while sirens blare, Christianity runs for the bunkers with truth tucked under its arms Continue Reading…

Despite what I advise patients in the exam room, I fight a constant battle to get: 

  • 8 hours of sleep
  • 30 minutes of exercise 5 days a week
  • 5 fruits and vegetables a day

So, if I’m already struggling to master those healthy habits, why would I add imagination-training to the list? 

 

Ben moore

Image courtesy of Ben Moore via unsplash.com

 

Because, cultivating our imaginations is like getting an oil change. We can run for a while without it, but at a lower performance Continue Reading…

No Demons Here

smgianotti  —  March 21, 2015

Imagining demon-possession seems unwise, so I start with the tombs. Mark’s demoniac lived among the tombs (Mark 5:1-20). Clenching my lashes together, I fight off the brightness diffusing through my eyelids. Imprints of my cherry wood desk and the crape myrtle beyond it float in my brain. The fan hums overhead and sweet air wafts over me. Not very tomb-like.

rsz_tomb.jpgPhoto courtesy of Joel Mulhouse via Creationswap.com

I try to imagine gathering bones for pillows, screaming just to hear my own voice, and gashing my chest with rocks. But I can’t, because I’m used to reading the Bible from the sidelines.

Continue Reading…

The sun seeped through my jeans, warming my legs, as I lounged on the sofa and waited for my espresso to brew. One of Mom’s holiday shortbread cookies–edible gold and made from a recipe passed down by my Scottish ancestors (or so I like to think)–waited patiently on a napkin.

 

Yesterday was a good day for relaxing, and for indulging the senses. Hearing espresso bubble its way up through the Moka Express. Pinching up remnant crumbs from the napkin and breathing the rich steam of roasted beans. Savoring the espresso’s complexity and the shortbread’s sweetness. Watching sunbeams fall into my apartment (and remembering me how badly I need to dust).

 

22940 Coffee Cup on a Window SillPhoto courtesy of Kelly Sikkima via creationswap.com

Life bursts with sensory experiences–gratuitous, copious, and lavish moments that speckle each day.

Continue Reading…