Darts to Doves

An Ethic of Creating, Compassion Fatigue, & Traumatic Media Consumption.

This weekend has been a little nuts. I’ve been in seminary lectures, and we’ve had family in town caring for the kids, so my schedule is slightly out of wack. That said, let’s just have a quick conversation tonight. Yall, I know this week was hard, so this conversation is a soft one. Promise. Currently there is a lot of helpful dialogue taking place about traumatic media consumption and compassion fatigue. But I also think an ethic of creation can aid us right now. Let’s talk about it. 🧵

If God is Creator, and God’s image bearers (all of humankind) are supposed to reflect what God is like, then what if in the face of violence and desolation— when we feel utterly helpless— we have it inside us already to respond through rebelliously hopeful acts of creativity?

What if we let creativity serve as the catalyst for our compassion, and channel it as a conduit for our advocacy and activism? 

Why does this matter? 

Because when we’re watching destruction get away with murder before our very eyes and we’re grasping frantically for coping mechanisms to ground us, sometimes the things that we can feel & form with our fingers, can best aid us in reinforcing our humanity in a truly incarnational way. 

And while the culture at large attempts to arm us with an onslaught of violent videos and apathetic information that we might choose which flavor of destruction we will allow our consciences to justify…

that we will align ourselves with…

What if we side with creativity rather than destruction?

What if we commit to participate in the making and re-making, restoration, redemption, reconciliation, and rebirth with our Creator —perhaps first as a way of coping— but ultimately as the path to our shared wholeness and flourishing? Make no mistake, this is not a bothsidesism. But it is an otherworldly way.

Currently creation is groaning. 

Lament is loud. 

Death is having a hay day, and I don’t know about you, my grief response to the prevalence of unimaginable suffering is making me sick to my stomach.

Yet through the liturgy of creation, we can prophetically testify to what our Creator is like, and we testify to the hope we have in God-with-us. The prince of peace. The creator of all. We can testify to the resurrection.

And what if through acts of creating, we believers get to practice participating in our ultimate eschatological destiny as we choose healing over harm in a tangible physical way? 

In Rachel Held Evans’ posthumously published work, she shared how one year, Rachel decided on an unconventional lenten practice of transforming all of the hate mail she received (mostly from conservative evangelical Christians) into origami. She described this journey as deeply painful at times. Every once in a while, she would accidentally read the words, and they stung. but through practicing the liturgy of creating and re-creating, she was able to heal. She literally transformed the flaming darts of the enemy into doves. Words designed to harm, became a dining room overflowing with beautiful paper birds.

I know it feels like too small a start. Fiddling and folding. I know it doesn’t feel like enough.

But all kingdom things start small before they grow. 

I don’t know about you, but I’m an enneagram 9 through and through. My heart craves justice and shalom. But until it’s real and here and true, I’ll write.

I’ll make art. I’ll craft. I’ll garden. I’ll create. I’ll do these things with tears in my eyes, and in communion with the Father because I am human. I am a created being. I have a creative Creator. And I am creative too.

And as I channel my energy into this book that I’m writing, I’ll imagine a more lovely way of being human by embodying one of God’s best qualities— creativity. 

So, join me if you like. 

Turn off the tv. Stop scrolling.

Make a thing. Anything.

Make no mistake, this isn’t a way to make ourselves “feel better.” This isn’t empty self-care. But it is an intentional exercise in saying “Making rather than destroying is part of what it means to be human. Instead of crushing, I will craft and cultivate. Instead of preparing for battle, I will prioritize my belonging to humankind.”

Speaking of the book, since this thing I’m working on is loosely in the neighborhood of ecclesiology, I’ve been a little concerned about my flow of thought might be received. But after spending some time in ecclesiology class this weekend, not only was the need for this message reinforced, but I also remembered how much I just really really love geeking out over systematic theology and spiritual formation. Studying theology has enlivened my faith in unimaginable ways, and I’m grateful every day I get to read and write and dwell on the things of God.

I hope this week that you find a way to cultivate peace wherever you are, you connect with God through creativity and imagination, and that you would join me in praying fervently for those in harm’s way.

May the lord reveal his nearness to the brokenhearted.

As always, thanks for supporting my writing and feel free to keep the conversation going in the comments.