Why Smokey the Bear has Issues with God

Solomon’s temple got the firestorm of God’s glory. Elijah got his sopping altar lit, and eventually a chariot of fire. The early church got baptized in tongues of flame. And then there was Sodom and Gomorrah… The Israelites got a pillar of fire by night. Abraham got a firepot in God’s covenant with him. Moses got a burning bush.
I got a long trail of overlapping matchsticks…each one burns out with just enough flash to ignite the next.
Incendiary dominoes.

I’ve been asking God to reveal his will and “call” for my life since I was about thirteen. Over a decade later, I still don’t have a large or clear answer. Maybe because I am too fond of outlines and schedules. Maybe because my perfectionism would’ve used a divine directive to strangle me. Maybe because I will die soon—who knows?
Still, I have found the direction I’ve needed to get to this point in life, doing things that (so far as I know) have honored that ethereal concept of “God’s Will.” I figure I’ll get specific as soon as He does.

In general terms, a theme that stands out in my life is communication. I remember being maybe 5 years old and my dad emphasizing that “communication is the key.” He was probably trying to get me to verbalize myself instead of getting frustrated, but communication has been a common thread throughout my life. Starting in elementary school, I’ve created skits and songs and choreography, taught children’s Bible studies, developed curricula, participated in children’s ministry and theatre and mime, even preached. These activities certainly didn’t reach beyond my immediate circles, but they filled gaps. I was the oldest child, yes, and my parent’s church involvement pushed me into plentiful opportunities, but the part I liked was not the spotlight. Overall, I wanted to communicate something worthwhile in a way that was new or different so it would grab attention, and eventually, hearts. [Please don’t interpret my lack of desire for fame as some sort of humility—I just have NO desire to deal with the hazards of notoriety and publicity.]

As for specific means of communication, I’ve always loved words. This certainly intensified as high school ended. College saw me in multiple writing classes—penning words and concepts for the sake of communication, not the hope of getting published. I especially loved metaphors and symbols and allegories because they offered some sort of tangible representation of spiritual realities.

My freshman year, I made my first collage. I loved how one picture holds so many words. I loved how the disconnected pieces merged to form a glue-bound whole. It reminded me of myself, of life. Eventually, I started combining words and pictures and metaphors and symbols. Creating collages (and creating in general) is JOY for me—and a way I connected to God.

Psalm 19:1-3 states “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night, they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard.” I love how God is heralded by his creation, which includes me! Creation speaks of its Creator—and the creations made by the created speak of the Creator. My contributions help communicate God.

For the purposes of this small group—and for the lack of a larger command—my idea is to create a collection of at least twenty five 8.5x11 “illustrated poems” to compile into a book-ish sort of thing. Each collage will have some sort of communicative purpose—a lesson I’ve learned or a truth that God created, and an artfully written explanation. I think I’ll call it “Snippets.”

So—what do I have in my metaphorical hand to help this project materialize? A box of old National Geographic Magazines, bottles of rubber cement, newly sharpened scissors, some cardstock, and a God who is willing to create with me.

As Psalm 119:105 states, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.” I have often ruefully noted that it does not state that God’s word is a set of eternal streetlights or a light for the map of the rest of my existence. Overstatements aside, God does not always guide through his more dramatic methods. Maybe I’ll have had an incinerating shrub yell at me by the time I’m eighty, but until then I will follow this long trail of matchsticks…
And though I follow, we walk side-by-side.