This was poetry.

The art that Andrew creates, for example, is so meaningful to me, I give out of the fullness of what I’ve received (never out of guilt or obligation) and I’m fairly sure a lot of people feel that way. Sometimes it feels like you just can’t give back enough. It’s the same reason that I bought books for as long as I could instead of using the library.

but like you, I’m trying to find a bill paying job right now to support what I wish I could really be doing and it IS a rather miserable process and reality.

First of all by thanking our Proprietor for these posts as well as everyone else here in the room for their insightful and articulate comments/discussion - this site has truly been the single most useful visit on the interwebs for me for some time now; I am grateful for it and for all involved.

And while I agree with the main points of this “series” of posts, and realize that this is a community of artists, I am having trouble reconciling the artists’ approach to money with someone who is not into creating music or books or paintings, etc. Andrew discusses all the work that goes into making a record (and it is alot of work, I know!) as justification for why he should get paid for this work with the noble goal of supporting his family - I whole-heartedly agree with this logic. But I keep asking this question in my mind…if an important goal for you is to support your family, and if being an artist makes it somewhat difficult for you to accomplish this goal (this “series” of posts illustrates the difficulty here), then maybe a different vocation should be considered? By no means am I suggesting that Andrew or anyone here stops creating!!!! I ask this question more for myself than anyone here. You see, I play bass for Caedmon’s Call and as I type this, I’m sitting in my office at work in Austin with more work on my plate right now than I can possibly get done by the end of the year - and I honestly long to be back on the road playing music with my friends for good folks like you all. It’s more fun! It’s more rewarding personally! And in some ways, it “feels” like I’m doing more kingdom work in that venue than writing stored procedures and C# code here in this office (nerd-speak!). But I’m here in this office because I need to support my family financially and with my presence (t-ball just started this week, first game is Sunday!). Because of this, in some ways I personally feel like the artists’ persuit is a self-serving one.

Most folks would rather spend their days creating music with friends, or at a coffee shop getting lost in the writing of a new world with new characters in a new novel over having meetings with colleagues on how you can fit a square peg into a round hole. Writing music and books is equally a job just as it is for me to build a website - and we should be paid for our toil. But I don’t go around asking my customers for financial support (at least not directly). Again, I’m not dis-agreeing with anything said here or dis-agreeing with artists asking for financial support at all! It’s just a bit of a conflict for me personally.

As a christian, though I struggle with this topic in my life, I do know this. We should do what we are called to do. And if you are lucky enough to realize your calling, you should go after it to the best of your abilities to glorify Him. In my case, my calling is here in this office. And I’m good at what I do. I know that He is glorified in my work, I do. I think He is also glorified when I do get together with my friends to play music as well, and even though I might have more fun creating music, I know it’s not where I am supposed to be full-time. I know that Andrew and most (if not all) of the folks here on this site are living out their calling and also glorifying Him more than they could ever know with their art. And they all should be compensated for this work.

Sometimes it’s just hard for me to accept the calling that is mine.
JM

Anyway, I’ve been following this money series…selfishly bc I’v been wrestling with similar truth as we are in the adoption process from Ethiopia. So I’ve been working on a post for my blog @ money, and have appreciated your insights. I was looking forward to reading this final post of the series.

But today. I wept. My nephew and his wife, who was 7 1/2 months pregnant, just lost their baby. A 5 1/2 lb baby girl. Horrible pain and loss, I cannot escape the weight of it. I came expecting to read a conclusion @ money. Instead you put words to the grief and sorrow and pain I have been feeling–the effects of the fall on humanity and the cry of our heart for something better. A coming King, a coming Kingdom. Thank you.

Sometimes, i think we can get distracted by the (seemingly) differences in our ‘pews’ that we hide under. We think that some are more acceptable than others, or better justified. But, it doesn’t change the fact that we all ‘hide’ because we are afraid to be seen.

It takes real courage to pursue tilling a field that we don’t recognize, understand, or can’t relate to, but it doesn’t take long before we see that underneath the surface, the soil is the same.

We all need pieces of the redemption story in our lives, and they don’t fully take root in us until the heart is pursued in love, plowed up, and planted with seeds of grace and mercy.

Sin and wounds(what makes us run for covering) usually takes place in relationships, and it is ironic that it is in relationships where we find healing and rest in the company of others. For the ‘glorious ruins’ that we are. But, it is not with out its risks. But, neither is there not risk prior to the reaping of a harvest.

it’s a gift from the Lord that we get to be part of the greater story in the lives of others whatever our chosen ‘medium’ or craft. “The more I think it over, the more I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love one another.” Van gogh.

and i love that we are now back where we started…which for you I guess…is book 3?:)

oh, and just sayin’
http://journeysofaprodigaldaughter.wordpress.com/2010/05/31/watership-down-by-richard-adams/

The chrysalis we have been watching
chose this morning to turn black
despite the rush of backpackings,
and toothbrushings
and lunch makings.

I knew this meant the time was close.
I asked the kids to delay;
to stay home with me and watch.

But they are at the scheduled ages,
of life waiting other places.
So we crawled into the van, and we talked
about digital things.

When I opened the kitchen door alone,
there it was.
Post-miracle.

Hanging perfectly hand-painted.
A map of orange, and black,
and starry night.

I cried staring at it. Watching its paper wings open and close.

I cried because this is how metamorphosis should happen.
It is how I wish mine could happen and yours,
tucked into the safety of maternal, gentle places
instead of in this war zone where glass bulls herd us into corners
so that no choices are the right ones.

What liturgy can we make
with these malformed wings
touched too soon and bent
by hateful things?

In that room with no couch,
I am digging for hope with you,
sifting through hymns
pried from a foreign land.

We have different poverties, Yasu.
But I feel bound to yours because of mine.
So I will sing the gleaning songs with you,
even if our voices shake.