Sunday morning has come and gone, and I’m relieved. Preparing for my message on Epiphany was invigorating and rewarding. It was also tiring and hard. My final exams extended all the way to December 22, and I had a lingering case of study-jadedness. Several passages from the Bible had been assigned to me, but it took prayer—serious, repeated prayer—before I could get my thoughts down on paper. It took more prayer, prayer from my family and friends, for me to get those ideas refined. And then there was New Year’s Eve...
All told, my “epiphany” message was not one. In other words, it was not a thing of oratorical beauty that materialized, fully formed, in my mind. It did not arise in a swirl of creative inspiration or an ‘Aha!’ moment. I found myself thinking of Annie Dillard’s memorable words in The Writing Life:I drank coffee in titrated doses. It was a tricky business, requiring the finely tuned judgment of a skilled anesthesiologist. There was a tiny range within which coffee was effective, short of which it was useless, and beyond which, fatal.
Wow, did she get it right. Sunday morning, I was convinced that the success of my message (delivery, energy) depended largely on the precision of my coffee dosage. Fortunately, I think I assessed the durability of my stomach’s lining accurately enough (thank God).
It’s ironic that “epiphany” can be such hard work, that “inspiration” can be so labored. And the irony gets even better. Despite my mental fatigue and expert coffee treatment, the question ought to be posed: Who did the work?
Despite the content of the last several paragraphs, I would hurriedly reply God. God did. The irony, then, is not that I was forced to do God’s work for him. Rather, it’s that divine direction, even in the case of a 30-minute message, usually arrives through my exertion. It’s no accident: the inspiration is God’s—and he wants me to sweat and think and bang out words on my keyboard late at night so I can have it.
Having thought about this a little, I’m all the more amazed at what we call “epiphany”—those moments when God speaks to me in a direct, irrefutable way. And the clincher? We don’t work for them!
Yet another reason why epiphany, when it arrives, is divinely special.
Monday, January 02, 2006
Inspiration is Hard Work
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6 comments:
Elisa, you may be right. Occasionally, even I question my coffee habit. But as they say, the show must go on. ;)
Lindsay's feeling well, thanks for asking. Not a lot of morning sickness or adverse effects. Of course, she might have a slightly different perspective - but she's definitely very into this pregnancy thing. A very responsible and healthy mother-to-be.
Haha...I love your take on who does the work in inspiration. You are so right! Inspiration might be fully a gift of God, but it comes through perspiration, and that ought not to be underestimated. It seems it's human nature to always want things the easy way, though something tells me we wouldn't be truly appreciative if God actually gave us inspiration without sweat on our part.
Glad you survived Sunday. ;-)
i highly doubt that this will make near as much sense to anyone but me but your thoughts on working for epiphany reminded me of a passage in Reflections on the Psalms when Lewis asserts that the anchient hebrews really had no sense of an afterlife...because after all if all had been reveled at the on set why would there have been any "panting" after gods presence? just to be with him rather than to have an "after-life insurance policy"....i am finished rambling...M2M shuffles off in search of cup of hot, bitter, brown water
it’s that divine direction, even in the case of a 30-minute message, usually arrives through my exertion
Even better than exertion, divine direction arrives through obedience. And this should come as no surprise to us. Hoe many times in scripture does Christ say something to this effect: having eyes, they see not, and having ears they hear not, because of their rebellious hearts. We forget and need to be reminded that even the most basic revelation of our senses is divine.
For me, the irony is that an epiphany may be nothing more than my rare moments of true obedience, when my eyes are opened and the world that has been there before me all along is (to whatever small degree) beautifully and graciously revealed.
I always feel that, admidst the hard work of a paper, etc., which I have been struggling with for hours, comes an intellectual parting of the Red Sea. The moment of clarity when you see your product and its proper direction; this is what I have always called epiphany (recall my blog title). So, I dig you thoughts.
Uh-uh?! (inarticulate sound of appreciation and puzzlement)
If some of you had spoken up sooner, I might have been forced to use your illustrations in my talk.
J, your thought that sweat increases the flavor of inspiration is definitely true. Just the same, I look forward to the day when "epiphany" won't be so elusive...
M2M, your thought would make an interesting post topic. If the longing for moments of sharp, delicious insight depends on the immediacy of our needs, how do we reconcile epiphany with heaven? In other words, could heaven make us passive? I'd answer, Definitely not. But the question is a good one - maybe it's worth a Blogger Limelight discussion.
Gymbrall, your take on epiphany as rare obedience is sweet. I especially like this sentence:
"my eyes are opened and the world that has been there before me all along is (to whatever small degree) beautifully and graciously revealed."
And OC, as a fellow student, I've learned to wait for those "intellectual partings of the Red Sea" as well. Examples of epiphany are all around us!
Thanks for the good thoughts. The readers around here have such a ridiculously high IQ.
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