The Hard Work of Our Art

I'm not sure which of the two I'm looking forward to seeing more -- Orlando's new performing arts center or the ballet Coppelia, about a magical dancing doll. 

Thanks to my friend Marilyn who graciously offered me her tickets to the ballet, it’s a night out for the girls in my family to celebrate my mother’s birthday and for my eight-year-old niece Devon to see her first ballet.

While we wait for the curtain to rise, my mother and sister say they don’t really recall the difficult seven-year project that made this building a reality. 

But I remember it since my office is nearby and I often drove by the construction zone, watching the slow progress.

I remind them that a church was originally standing where we're now sitting. The church had to agree to move across the street. Then the church’s building had to be demolished. Next, the city built the church a new building. And finally the new performing arts center could rise from the rubble.

There were plenty of delays, setbacks and funding problems along the way.

I don’t know about you but I’m often dazzled by what seems like sudden success, terrific talent or amazing art. 

I celebrate the fabulous finished product, marvelous opening night performance or splendid gallery of work.

But often, things aren’t quite what they seem.

I’m not clued in to the Saturdays spent practicing, the days of discipline and the years of training that are the backbone, holding up what’s on center stage. I don't see the falls and failures, brick walls and dead ends, flops and disappointments. 

Lately, what’s been capturing my attention are websites of artful ideas turned into blooming businesses, blogs with insightful writing and thousands of readers, and inspired creatives leaving corporate jobs to pursue their lifelong dreams. 

Maybe you’re thinking {like I am} that you couldn’t be farther from some of the things you really want to do, and you're not even sure how to get there. 

Your mind tells you it’s unfeasible, you’re not capable, and everything’s impossible anyway, so why not just get back to your normal life and leave your hopes in the dust so you can have some peace from these thoughts?

{Is that just the voice inside my head or do you hear it too?}

Sometimes I think this place in our hearts and our minds is where the fight happens for our dreams and maybe, for our lives. 

This weekend I read the story of Nehemiah in the Old Testament. {It is an inspiring little book and well worth the read.}

Nehemiah spent years working a corporate job as the king’s cupbearer when God planted a dream in his heart to rebuild the demolished wall in Jerusalem. He would need all of that experience for his new roles of engineer, architect, organizer and cheerleader for this arduous task. 

The opposition was great as his plans were mocked and his work was criticized. But he refused to become discouraged because his dream was bigger than he was. It wasn't about him. 

It was about the history that God was writing for his people.

And it's my history he's writing too. 

But when I feel like I do it all wrong, mess up opportunities, and my dreams seem ruined, I wonder how much God is really involved. I want to give up, I lose heart and I grow tired of persevering. 

This is the fight in the dark, without the glow of the stage lights, to keep my faith, to stand, to hold on.

But just because I can't see him through the shadows, doesn't mean God isn't there, behind the scenes of my life, hearing me call out to him and working out his purposes for me. 

I have decided to anchor this truth in the deepest part of my heart: "All of my life in every season you are still God."

Because things can look quite different when the stage is set, the dancers take their places, the lights come up and the curtain rises on all that God wants to showcase in our lives.

As the ballet ended and we walked out in front of the performing arts center lighting up the night sky, I remembered Devon’s words before the evening started.

We’d gathered at my sister’s for a quick pasta dinner. 

Devon, so excited about her first ballet, picked up a glass from the table and held it high. “Let’s toast to our night at the ballet,” she said. 

We clinked our glasses and I thought, isn't that what it’s all about? 

Dreams emerging from the rubble, faith to show us the way, and the art of telling our beautiful stories.

I'm linking up with my friends at Holley Gerth's place at Coffee for your Heart. Click the image to read more posts!