Musings.

"The best equipping is living

in My presence,

My hand that never lets go of yours. 

Discuss everything with Me... Remember that 

I am on your side, and that I have overcome the world."

Often I live as if I'm on the losing side of the battle. I find myself focusing on my insecurities and I allow the little nagging thoughts of doubt take root and idly observe as they begin to bloom. 

I've been reading through John; a chronicled account of Jesus' coming and going, of His passionate and radical and beautifully messy lifestyle. I find hope in that, because I can identify with the messy. I identify with the characters that encounter Him; with the woman at the well in chapter 4 who is caught up in something that she tries to hide and He calls her out in love, drawing her in to drink of His wellspring, calling her into true life. 

I identify with the blind man in chapter 9 who, without question, did exactly as Jesus instructed and was able to see for the first time, tasting the freedom of His gift fully.

And while I find a common ground with many of these ancient characters, I take heart in the fact that my God is indeed the Father of all, that He is Mighty, Strong, a Wonderful Counselor and a God of unabashed Love. And I find that, rather than taking up the mindset of the defeated, He has given me the Spirit, and  "He who believes in Me [Jesus], as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water". (John 7:38) 

We constantly live in a place of war within ourselves; trying to decide whether to follow our hearts or follow that which we know to be true. We borrow advice from the deep places in our hearts and believe them to be absolute truth without testing them first, however, Jeremiah 17:9 challenges that very concept;

The heart is deceitful above all things,

and desperately sick,

who can understand it?

You know what strikes me? Not even the fact that my heart is deceitful above ALL things, but that it is desperately sick. My heart. My heart, which has been seeking and craving and running after God for years. My heart, which I want with every part of me to believe is good and whole and pure. But even in saying that, I know that my assumptions are incorrect. 

I am flawed; I am desperately sick; and I am grateful for this.

Because that gives me a chance to be like the blind man; to be in a place of humility and raw desperation where my Jesus can place His hands over me and instruct me towards healing. Because He promises that in my belief of Him, He will equip me with the Holy Spirit, which will flow from me like a river of water, quenching the dark and spreading light within. Because my flaws are the very things He is going to heal when I enter into His kingdom for the rest of eternity. Because when I am passing through His gates into His glorious, unleashed presence, I will experience Him like never before.

I know that in Him I am on the winning side. That I don't have to strive to fight the battle in my own strength, but that He is next to me grinning, effortlessly holding up His defense against the enemy and urging me to do the same, drawing from His unending strength. 

He is my Champion. He has overcome.

Consider a Jealous God

My heart cries out for more today. It screams for something deeper; something more vivid and alive. Something that I can grasp onto and hold, take it in as if it's my very own breath that I'm embracing. Something--no, Someone--that will hold me and keep me and birth in me a wild and abundant and lovely passion and burning for life.

I have been home in Washington for five weeks now. I left YWAM Destination Paradise in Belize five weeks ago with a heavy and faltering heart. I left with an angry and despairing and hurting spirit. I left with a sense of bitterness and frustration; towards others, but mostly focused towards myself.

I was reading in Hebrews 12 a few days ago and verse 3 kept playing over and over in my mind.

"For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, 

lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls."

When I left DP, I was weary, discouraged. I hadn't been considering God and His passions and heart for me, and I fell into a state of thinking that was so inwardly focused that I couldn't see what He was speaking over me. Since being home, I have found that peace again. I have found the rest in Him that I have so desperately been craving, discovered once more the excitement and intimacy with my Father. He has been speaking into me life and color, breathing into my weary soul and reviving the joy within that is so natural for me. My heart is still in a process of healing, of finding a place where I can communicate healthily with those whom I have hurt and who have hurt me, but within this process I am learning to focus on God's peace and humble myself before Him daily, hourly, in every moment, because according to Deuteronomy 4:24;

"...the Lord your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God."

and

"Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken,
let us be thankful, and so worship God with reverence and awe,
for our God is a consuming fire." (Hebrews 12:28-29)

My God is a jealous God. He is a God thirsty for my love, hungering to get to know me better and craving my company. Who am I to deny Him His glory? It was foolish of me to step into sin and convince myself that He wasn't watching, that I could repent later. It would be foolish for me to run from that. Instead, I'm walking into His presence with a sense of utter peace and joy, because His grace and His love is bigger and more passionate than I could ever imagine. He is reining me in and teaching and growing and stretching me, and as this happens His restoration and His will for me encompasses me and burns in my heart; calling me and prodding me ever towards His feet, towards the throne, towards His beauty.

Eruption.

I forget that this life is temporary. I settle into patterns and thought-processes and embed in myself a desire and a drive that line up with the idea that this moment in time is all that there is...that my actions and thoughts and words won't affect people. That I can do or say or think anything I want and it won't go further than me and my mind and my immediate surroundings.

How wrong I am to assume. I've been living out this pattern of supposition for the past six months, and am barely on the brink of realizing what it means to push outside of myself in certain areas. This month has been wild. It's been full of frustration, of confusion, of freedoms and of revelations. One of the joys (and curses) of living in community is that most of your life is on display for all to see. And when you mess up--when you make a wrong decision or aren't careful about guarding your heart and mind--everyone knows. It's equivalent to standing center-stage at a concert and knowing that every eye is on you, knowing that if you miss a single note while singing or hit the wrong chord, someone will always know. There are no secrets when you're standing center stage.

I recently made some poor decisions within the relationships that I've built, and I haven't realized until this past week just how badly those decisions affected the entire community. My actions and decisions hurt those around me, especially the girls within my small group and the women within the staff. I broke the trust that had been built between us and I refused to acknowledge it. I lied to myself, convinced myself that I wasn't hurting anyone, justified my actions by telling myself that I was following my heart. None of those lies held, however. The mitigation of my actions within my own mind deteriorated as I looked into the eyes of those that I've hurt, heard their words as they expressed their frustration and anger, felt their pain radiating from them as they asked the tortured questions; "Why was I not good enough for you?" 

I can't undo what's happened. I can't take back the ache that I've caused in the lives of those around me. I can't take away from the fact that I did mess up. I won't minimize the pain of the circumstances; my own heart has been broken throughout this process. We had a meeting involving the entire staff and student body last week, and I had the opportunity to own my shit in front of everyone. I splayed myself out and took the fall that I knew had been coming, and as I looked around the room, I felt a shattering inside of me. Out of 30+ people, I could count on one hand those who would look me in the eye. I felt the anger and betrayal emanating within the room and the walls within my own heart crumbled. I will not deny my actions, but I can and will be proactive with where I presently am. I will walk forward and continue to move, continue to be open and vulnerable, making a conscious effort every day to be one hundred percent authentic in my words and actions as I converse with others. I will choose to walk in light when I've been walking in darkness. I will choose to be filled with integrity and an honesty that transcends that which I have been walking in.

Relationships are building again, trust is being reconstructed, and I find myself being able to truly smile within the past few days. Joy is something that I have to embrace daily, but the beauty of this entire situation is that it's a story of redemption. It's a story of the fascinating and wonderful and breathtakingly passionate love that my Father has for me and for those wrapped up in this.

I'm still processing and will continue to process and write, because this is just the beginning of the journey, and He is just furthering His work to perfect me. I will take heart in the fact that He has overcome the world (John 16:33) and that He will continue to refine me in the process. In everything, I will not forget that He has been broken so that I may be shaped into some creature of beauty and wholeness. I choose to embrace Him and to walk forward in the freedom that He continues to so gracefully provide; head held high and proceeding humbly before Him.

Forfeit.

You know what the greatest tragedy in life is? It's someone whose god gets smaller and smaller with each passing day.

Maybe it's time to stop placing four-dimensional limits on God. Maybe it's time to stop putting God in a box the size of your cerebral cortex. Maybe it's time to stop creating God in your image and let Him create you in His.

The more we grow, the bigger God should get. And the bigger God gets, the smaller our lions will become.

- Mark Batterson

I'm currently reading a book called 'In a Pit With a Lion on a Snowy Day', written by Mark Batterson. It uses the story of Benaiah, from 2 Samuel 23. All we know about Benaiah is this:

Benaiah son of Jehoiada, a valiant fighter from Kabzeel, performed great exploits. He struck down Moab’s two mightiest warriors. He also went down into a pit on a snowy day and killed a lion. And he struck down a huge Egyptian. Although the Egyptian had a spear in his hand, Benaiah went against him with a club. He snatched the spear from the Egyptian’s hand and killed him with his own spear. (2 Sam. 23:20-21)

This book focuses on the fact that Benaiah followed a lion into a snowy pit... and killed it. Generally, one would never follow a lion down into a dark, snowy, cold pit with the sole purpose of killing it. Snow inhibits us as humans, it makes us cold and stiff. It's hard to maneuver in. And in the dark of a pit, it's even more slippery than usual because it's potentially crystallized into ice. Lions have superior vision to humans in the darkness; their eyes let in more light than ours, and they can see in the dark. They have four huge, sure paws and a thick fur coat to protect themselves from the cold. Clearly, the lion had the advantage.

Yet Benaiah wasn't fearful enough to run away from it; rather, he pursued this lion into it's own territory and killed it.

This is a wonderful analogy for my own personal fears. As I'm reading this book, I've been mulling over the fact that I have so many more fears underneath my surface than I imagined. I was sitting on the end of the dock last night, staring out at the deep black hovering over the sea, and I was intimately aware of the fact that I had fear welling up inside of me. I spent a good amount of time trying to decipher what the fear was from and I realized that, just as this book states, I've been putting my God into a four-dimensional box. I've been containing Him within the realms of my mind because that's what I understand. I can't understand or fathom the greatness of Him when He is outside of the confines that I've placed Him in.

This past week has been one of many such realizations, and I am actively taking a stand against the fear that so easily entangles me. I'm coming against the fear that my Father cannot protect me. I give up the control that I so desperately want to have, because I trust myself... and I choose to trust Him instead. I break the fear of failure, the fear of being hurt. I claim the freedom that has always been here, has always been placed in front of me, and I choose to dance in His wild and beautiful and fierce and loving presence with an expectancy of more life, of more depth.

I had a vision of myself dancing and twirling on top of the ocean, clothed in garments of silver, my hair flowing behind me, streaked with purple and gold, my eyes burning with an intense joy. A single crystalline tear traveled down my face, and I grinned. That was it. No explanation came for a few moments, and then I started to pray it out, and it made so much sense. I want to dance in the royalty and the raw, wild joy that He has given me. I will let myself be vulnerable, let my emotions show like that single tear on my cheek, clear and shining and real. I will let myself do the impossible; dancing on water and laughing in the face of the fear that says that I can't.

I will not forfeit my dreams for fear of the unknown. My dreams hold a weight of enormity; they speak of passion and they cry out for adventure. I will not quench or silence these dreams and ambitions because of the fear of inadequacy. I will tame my fear. I will walk in His freedom. And I will kill the lions within, because in Him, I can slaughter beasts and love the unlovable in the same breath.

My God will not be placed in a box.

Take Flight. Breathe In. Crush Fear.

I'm really good at running.

I'm exceptional at sprinting, actually. Away from hurt. Away from potential heartache. Away from frustration and away from misfortune. I flee from pain and I search for bliss. Not joy, mind you, but bliss; the encasing, short-lived, euphoric state of mind where no hurt can find you... and generally, I'm apt to find an avenue into that place of rapture. But then that feeling of ecstasy evaporates, and I'm left to abscond again, growing farther and farther away from myself as I try to escape the bitter reality that life sometimes is.

This week, I wanted to run. At some points, everything inside of me was screaming at me to take flight--to turn to the beach, to let my legs pump and my breath flow and the adrenaline carry me to a place of bliss. My mind wanted to shut down, to stop caring about what was happening around me, to enter that place inside of me that is pure imagination, where I can construct and breathe life into something around me that seems safe. But in all reality, I can't do that. I can't leave.

That's something I've learned working here; I can't run. I can't just pick up and check out of what's happening at the moment. For one, what is happening here--however intense, however chaotic--it's happening under Jesus' name. He encompasses every move here, whether it brings glory to Him or not. He can't help it, His presence just automatically permeates everything. All that is going on isn't necessarily from Him, but He is always encasing every situation, and that which is evil and disgusting is shown for what it really is in a heartbeat. The deception game doesn't work too well here. But then, I'm getting ahead of myself.

This week has been draining. Every day has been a constant battle for truth and healing. It's been amazingly breathtaking. He has been amazingly breathtaking. He has propelled us as staff members forward through a web of deceit and hurt and given us ears and eyes to hear and see the truth as lies unfold before us. He has given us strength to wake up every morning, ready for a new day. And He has taught me that it's okay to face pain head-on. Granted, it's not my pain that I'm facing, but He has still given me a will to fight for His children, a passion to see freedom break through the hurt and the confusion that so easily entangles. This past week has been full of a pain and a confusion that I've never had to face before. I've never dealt with the circumstances that we're in at the moment. I've never walked through some of these things with people. In essence--I have no idea what I'm doing, or how I'm going to do this.

But then...that's the beauty of it, isn't it? Because when I end...that's where Jesus really begins to work. Where the Father floods His grace on me and those around. When the Spirit is allowed to completely flow through me and wreck my heart for Him, and make me thirst for more of Him in my depravity. And so I stop running. I slow down... I take a deep breath. The adrenaline drains and I begin to feel the exhaustion steal in. My heart rate slows and my eyes grow heavy, my limbs almost too weary to propel myself along...and suddenly, the hair on my arms stands up. 

I feel a burst of energy come from thin air, crashing into me and taking my breath away, even as it gives me the strength to keep gasping for the oxygen my body so eagerly craves. My muscles start to strengthen, seemingly of their own accord. I suddenly have the will to fight, the will to keep walking in the direction I was headed in the first place--away from bliss, into this messy, painful, hard, beautiful, crushing lifestyle called missions, where some days you don't get to rest, some nights you're pulled from your sleep and you can feel the enemy crushing down on you, you can see dark shadows in the room trying to oppress you, and all you can do is pray and pray in earnest faith, knowing that these dark beings have no power over you if you can just open your mouth to speak His name... where sometimes you're jerked from your dreams by a knock on the door, and suddenly you're throwing on clothing to rush into some unknown emotional or mental territory with one of the students.

But in those moments I realize that this is really what I love. I wouldn't change this. Even when I'm waking up to a knock on my door at 1am. Even when I'm sitting on the end of the dock crying in anguish for the hurting souls gathered on this base. I wouldn't change any of the pain, or the hurt, because along with it comes great growth, and great joy, and an even greater sense of His presence and Spirit. Because even though, yes, this is hard...I know that it is fully worth it. Every second of it. All the tears, all the laughter, all the silly moments I have with those around, all the sad hugs shared, all the smiles and wry looks given and sarcasm and dancing and singing and twirling together.

I suppose the appropriate thing to say is that I have previously been fantastic at running away. But Jesus is teaching me to saunter, to savor the moment--whether filled with sorrow or joy--and to take it one step at a time, letting all the hard moments be erased with every laugh, with every smile that shows itself.

And so I stop sprinting. I slow down...I take a deep breath. And I let His touch sear like a million wildfires inside of my soul.

My Salvation Lies in Your Love

I get scared.

Especially when I realize that my talents and character and all the things that I pride myself on are nothing more than dust. 

My talents fail me. My character fails me. My thoughts--my very flesh--it will always, always fail me. I can not rely on myself. 

I can rely on my God. I can rely on the fact that day after day, no matter where I am, what I'm doing, He will be there, right next to me. He will always be the one taking my hand and helping me up, leading me over mountains and through the deep recesses of the earth. 

And even better, when I am feeling weak and terrified and am worrying that what I am about to do will fail me, He gives me His voice. He gives me His strength. He gives me His hands, and His feet, and His heart. 

And when I feel like I'm being attacked, like life is getting too hard, he steps in carries me. He rides the heavens to help me. And He promises to do it again, and again, and again...

Because He loves me.

Jesus, YOU are worthy. Take my life and let it be used for Your glory. Take all of me, everything, my faults and my failures and my joys and my strengths. And Jesus... run with it. Shape me. Create, and re-create, and  chisel away, and bring forth your sweet fragrance in my heart, in my life. 

Because I love you. 

And I desire more.

Oh What a Day is Today!

You ever have those moments where you're sitting somewhere (this time I happened to be in a crowd of people, in the middle of church) and you get a thought that just completely blows your mind? I was walking to my chair during church after grabbing a cup of coffee and filling my water bottle, had almost made it, and one of those thoughts hit me.

Before I go further, you have to realize that I'm not the most graceful person on the face of the planet. One of my friends tells me that I have "helmet and crayons" moments. I always seem to wind up in awkward or messy situations. (Like getting mashed potatoes in my hair and steak in my eye (what?!) during a date in high school... who does that?) Also, we have a pretty small church, ranging from about 100-175 people, in a room smaller than a gym, where you can hear everything that's going on.

Anyways, earlier today I'm almost to my seat, cup of coffee (no lid... bad choice) in hand, and am about to slip into my row of chairs when one of those mind-blowing thoughts hits me. It's so mind-blowing that I decide to drop my water bottle. In the middle of church. While the pastor is talking.

As I drop my water bottle, the hand holding the cup of coffee jerks a bit, and hot coffee splashes over the rim and drenches my fingers. I stable it with the other hand, effectively drenching that one in coffee as well (I'm still standing in the middle of the aisle, and people are staring. And I'm getting coffee everywhere, including all over my forehead as I wipe my hair out of my eyes) and I can't figure out how to get my water bottle off of the ground without flashing everyone because I'm wearing a short-ish dress, so I just sit down in the nearest chair, giggling hysterically as my friends around me are all trying to contain their laughter and my pastor is trying not to be distracted.

Thankfully an older gentleman across the aisle retrieved my water bottle for me, and I was able to find something to wipe my hands (and forehead) off with. 

Point of story: Life is messy.

I can't share the realization I had at the moment, because I can't put it into words, but you'll probably get that later this week. For now though, it's been amazing to realize just how human I am today. I have not had one non-awkward day this entire week, though I think today was by far the most hilarious. 

Sometimes I feel like I'm looking through lenses that are slightly out of focus and a little off, and maybe the frames are bent and they don't fit right over my eyes. I feel like life is a little like that--disjointed and battered, and if you focus on one thing for too long it just starts to hurt and make you dizzy. 

Basically, I just want to tell you not to worry about it. Life is messy. I know I am messy! (Ask any of my old roommates...) And if you focus too hard, or try to do everything at once, you might end up like I did today; in the middle of a crowd, at a loss for what to do, too overwhelmed to do anything but laugh (or cry), and completely embarrassed. So don't worry about it. Go with it, give it to God, and let Him be the one who directs you. Learn to laugh at yourself and your mistakes, and take them in stride. Easier said than done, yes, but it's worth it. 

Don't worry about it. :)

There You go Making my Heart Beat Again

My day has been consumed with Skype dates, writing music and doing dishes. I look out the window into the overcast fields and see rain throwing itself from the sky and exploding into a million pieces onto the ground, gracing the face of the earth with its watery freckles. My brother and I are singing country music and exchanging playful banter while we hang out and laugh together.

Basically, it's a typical day. Except for one thing. 

All day, God has been speaking His exquisite, colorful love over me. I have slipped into His presence and have been standing in it all day. He whispers little things to my spirit and my flesh breaks out in chills, my mind coursing and climbing and plummeting to new depths and heights, exploring the things He's revealing to me. His voice has been present all day.

Recently I've been having a number of revelations, which you can tell by reading my past posts. A few weeks ago I felt like I was underwater spiritually; gasping for Him to breathe His air into me while swimming away from the surface, sabotaging myself of the one thing I desired the most. 

Today I broke surface. I've been striving for it for a week and a half and finally, I made it.

My heart has begun to beat again.

He fills my lungs with His sweet breath and I inhale... savoring the scent of His presence. And this is just the beginning. If I keep looking toward Him, I will soon recover from my bout beneath the choppy waters, and I will learn to climb into a boat with Him. I will learn to sail with Him and to explore new territory, all the while looking to the sky, looking up, breathing in, exhaling the poison from my system and taking in the wind and the oxygen He's provided for me. 

He's showing me what it's like to be a burst of vibrant color amidst the thunderstorms that are thrown in my face. And the most exciting part? In Him, I can be unstoppable. And I can provide color. 

So really all I need to do is breathe, and climb in this boat, and unfurl the sails, and let Him be my heartbeat.

This is What it Looks Like to be Real Sometimes.

I'm so incredibly small.

Sometimes, I get frustrated because I can't eat what I want to eat. Sometimes I get frustrated that I live in a state that has rain 90% of the year. (Made that statistic up... but it's probably true.) Sometimes I get frustrated because I don't like my clothing. Today was one of those days.

I found myself in my room, standing helplessly in the middle of a pile of clothing, upset because I didn't want to wear any of it. I felt like my clothing was outdated, out of style, old. I felt like it didn't fit just how I wanted it to, or it didn't look as good as last time I wore it. 

And then I realized what I was doing. Honestly, how utterly sick is it that I stand in the middle of a warm, carpeted room with three windows, a bed, closets, mirrors, shoes, a couch, on the top floor of a rambling farm house, and I am upset about my clothing choice? I know people--I know children--whose clothing is ripped, and baggy, and fading, and literally falling off of their back. I know people whose only house is a couple of random pieces of wood set up together and placed against a concrete wall. I know people who have no place to sleep at night, except for the cold, hard ground under the trash on the side of the street. Yet here I am, standing in my room whining because I don't want to wear my striped shirt today, and I can't find clean socks. 

It saddens me to remember that before I fell in love with God I was a selfish and haughty, proud human being. What saddens me even more than that though, is that I have found myself slowly slipping back into that same cycle. 

The fact that "fitting in" or being "in style" concerns me even a little is almost a warning flag to me. It's not a bad thing to be stylish, or to be able to relate to people. However, I find myself questioning my motives when that is consuming me, and I know that I have gone too far when I step back and see that I am in a situation like the one I found myself in today... standing in the middle of a heap of blessings, and complaining because I don't have more, or better, or bigger, or prettier. 

How did I become this? The realization of where I had let my attitude drift to started a whole new round of frustration, and with it determination. So today, I wage war. I don't know how to be any different than the selfish woman that I am on my own, and so I make a choice. I will cling to my Jesus harder and fiercer than before, because without Him, this life of mine is worthless. I don't want to be proud, or haughty, or selfish, or flaunt myself in any way, and so I cast those cares aside and I claim freedom from those. I want to live a life of servanthood.

I remember the sweetness of His presence and the sound of His voice in my spirit, the rush of His wind against my skin and the colors He painted around me. I remember visions He has given me and His promise of more to come. I remember Him being so much that I literally cannot describe Him. I am so thirsty to return to that place where I could sit in His presence and feel His peace and His heartbeat and stay there for hours without becoming restless. So once again, I sit before Him, a pitiful human, and I offer myself up.

I mentioned in my last post that I am ready for whatever He has for me, and I truly am. I am a broken, tired little girl, but honestly... that doesn't even matter. Because where I end, He begins. Where my spirit is full of frustration, His is full of grace. When I don't know what to sing, He places a melody in my heart. And that, my friends... that is extraordinary.

Storytelling.

Art. It's something that I've always wanted to be good at. As far back as I can remember, I've admired art. I've always envied good artists, or those who are so creative that everything that they do or say seems beautiful, just because you know they have amazing art skills.

This week, I embarked on a journey to find out why this meant so much to me.

Sometimes my life is so messy that I just want to create; to be in control of something that is beautiful, and perfect, and flowing, and meaningful.

And so I begin to draw, and to paint, and to write poetry and songs and short stories, I begin to collage pictures together that represent something noble and beautiful to me. I begin to strive for perfection, and every single time I am disappointed. I look back into my sketch book and look at the pictures that I've previously drawn--sloppy and misguided figures that vaguely resemble the picture I remember having in my mind at the moment. I move away from drawing and enter the musically-oriented door in my mind, stepping into a room that I know well, full of instruments and melodies and intricate harmonies that if I could just write down, if I could just figure them out long enough to get one stanza out on paper, out in the open, I know I would reach success. But even this isn't attainable.

I found something out this week. Life is messy. I am messy. Therefore everything I create will be messy, or flawed at some point. With this realization came another decision: I give up. I give up trying to attain perfection. I give up trying to control life. I give up my desire to be more talented than artists around me, because that desire will just drive bitterness and frustration deep into my soul.

However, I will not give up creating. I will not give up painting, and drawing, and writing, and singing, and loving every second of it, because that, too, would drain me completely. Rather, I will change my focus. I will not create perfection.

I will aspire to bring into sight or sound that which is lovely, beautiful, flawed, fierce, speaking of the One who created every talent that I, and those around me, possess. I will tell stories. And I will continue to seek His face as He brings me farther along this path, closer to His presence, to His art.