S E L F P O R T R A I T

Once upon a time there was a creative mind. For six years, she spent a lot of time, effort, and money in school for graphic design. She thought it was what she wanted. Felt it was her calling. During the last semester of school, though, everything was gone. The friendship she thought would turn relationship fell apart. The jobs she wanted, she hadn’t applied for because she thought the friendship would turn relationship.

Sadly this is no make-believe story. It is a true one, with a lot of pain, but also very much marked with the art God is into. The art of redemption.

I went to school for graphic design, and for a time, I really did love it. But, as I previously said, during my last semester, it all fell apart. I had poured my heart and soul and all of me into a friendship I thought would turn into a relationship. All the other time I had went into my job as a barista and my work in the design studio. That was my life. I’d even lost my community because of simply not making time for other people.

I was so burnt out with art by the time I graduated, I needed a break. It was far from the life I had imagined I’d have upon crossing the stage at graduation. I had worked so hard. Now there was a piece of paper to show for it, a mountain of student debt, and no desire to be in a creative field. That part of me was dead.

Back at the Storyteller Workshop, right before training camp, I felt something new happening. I felt the want and need to create again. But it had been years, and what would I even create?

At training camp, one night during worship, a guy in the band, Evan, started talking of the scene in Narnia. When Susan asks if Aslan is safe if he’s a lion. And Mr. Beaver responds, “No, he’s not safe. But he’s good.“

When I got home from training camp, I watched Narnia. I got chills throughout the movie. It had been years since I watched it. The next morning at church, we sang Living Hope. When we got to this line, and I got chills and teared up…

Out of the silence, the roaring Lion

…I knew that was it. I was supposed to paint a lion. But what was I supposed to do it on? Funny enough, I’ve had a 30″ x 30″ canvas for YEARS. I’ve moved it to three houses. I’ve been terrified to do anything on it, because I hadn’t painted in years, and its a BIG canvas when you haven’t painted in that long, and what if I messed it up? I was done with the excuses. One day last week, I started painting, but it wasn’t a lion, and it just wasn’t working. I smeared my hand across the canvas, destroying the image I’d tried to create. I didn’t want to paint a lion. Where would I even start? I couldn’t just do it from my head.

I got a bright orange pastel pencil and started marking my outlines on the bright blue and green base from my previous attempt at a different image. What God can do on top of our previous attempts is worth giving over everything we’ve tried to create on our own.

I worked on it maybe 3 hours and when I stood back and looked at it, tears came. It was exactly the image I’d had in my head when I was thinking about a lion. I’d looked at one picture for reference, but it was everything I’d had in my mind.

As our squad prayed for me and encouraged me these past few weeks to create, for that to be unleashed again, once I finally got over the fear of messing up, I just started slinging paint on the canvas. And it didn’t matter. It became an act of worship. From my heart to the canvas. Even if it would have not turned out, it was a holy and sacred moment when I took a step back to look at it. Alive again. Redeemed.

Yesterday, I’d sent a photo of it to my (basically) brother, Eric. He didn’t respond to the text, but I ended up calling him after work to catch up a bit. He said he loved the painting. The colors, how expressive it was. He said, “It seems a self portrait to be honest.” “That’s really interesting. That hadn’t even crossed my mind,” was all I could say. If I hadn’t been driving, I would have fallen over at his words.

Later, I was talking to our Squad Mentor, Amy, (one of the most incredible people you’ll ever meet), and she said “Yes, it’s a self portrait. 100%. That’s Christ in you, my friend.” Tears. All of it. And then, “King of My Heart” came on, repeating the line, “You’re good, good, oooh.” FULL FREAKING CIRCLE.

He’s not safe, but He’s good.

I finished this painting last night, and I haven’t felt so free in years. MY SOUL IS FREE.

I was then talking to one of our Squad Leaders, Alex. I was telling him of these conversations as well. He told me he didn’t want to be cliche, but that with that strong of an identity being spoken over me, God has a reason for it. Identities are a strong thing. A strange thing to step into. It is scary, having such big things spoken into your life, and the core of who you are. I’m getting much less scared, and more willing to step into that roaring lion identity.

This new thing coming, it isn’t just a new chapter for my life. It’s an entire new book. This isn’t just another chapter. I will never be the same, and honestly, I never want to come back to the life I have. Not that I don’t have amazing things and people in my life. My work team is incredible, and they have truly been a family to me this year, helping me laugh and carry on during those weeks and months when it seemed I would never laugh again. The friends I have are amazing, we get to listen to one another and be there for one another in this coffee shop in Aggieville, and I wouldn’t trade the conversations I have had at those tables for anything. Bluestem will always be home. It will always be the most magical place.

I am a person working a desk job. I am not a person wired to sit at a desk for 8 hours a day. I’m living a life that I am not called to live. The first person I told about the World Race, before I’d even started praying about it, was a high school Young Life girl I’ve known since I was in leader training. Her eyes got big and she said, “GO. You’re meant to go do big things.” That sentence once spoken aloud carried more power and weight than she could have ever known. But Jesus knew. The Lion knew.

I’ve had so many people tell me, “You are meant to go do big things.” And I always kind of laugh. Not because I don’t believe it, but because to me all of the big things are really the small things. Listening to a friend when they’re going through a break up. Sometimes sitting in silence while you both cry because neither of you can fix the other, but you need each other there, just to know you’re not alone.

I don’t know what God has in store for me on the Race. But I do know two things:

It won’t be safe. It will be good.

XOXO,

Vicks.