Elisabeth Adams

Amazed

Recently, I started reading a book that swept me right away into another world — in a way that’s become more rare since I stopped being a teenager and started being a busy adult. Or maybe it was just the book.

Anyway, I was bound and determined to finish it before going hiking with a friend. But I have this sister. Who wanted help making guacamole. (Stick with me here: there is a point).

Now, she’s a capable young lady, it was a simple meal, and she didn’t really need my help. So why did she insist on dragging me away from my book? She got a rather grumpy me.

That evening, it came to my attention that my sister hadn’t been interested in my help so much as she was in my company. Oh! And she liked having me around, grumpiness and all.

Amazing.

But that’s not all.

Over the past year, I’ve been doing rather a lot of waiting. I knew already that uncertainty is just God’s way of getting my attention. But as the waiting lengthened and multiplied and developed wholly unthought-of new permutations, it seemed that God liked my attention rather more than I’d expected.

He was getting it. But it was grumpy!

But thanks to my sister’s Jesus-like example, I began to realize something new.

God loves my attention. My undivided attention. And yes, even my grumpy attention. Because He loves me.

Under the strong blaze of that, my grumpiness began to melt away and clear off, and a deep, puzzling peace took its place.

And now all I can think is this bit of a hymn:

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul…

What WONDROUS love is this.

Elisabeth

May 6, 2010

Writing Life

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Ebenezer

Meet Griselda.

Griselda is one of my Ebenezers, a reminder of God’s provision for His child. Five years ago, as a poor college student who persisted in flying back and forth repeatedly over the Atlantic Ocean, I lugged a tank-like early laptop around with me, figuring it’d be a year at least before I could return home and earn the money to buy myself a new one.

Wrong.

Out of sheer grace, several people banded together and presented me with a gift: this computer, a tangible reminder that God is able to do “exceedingly abundantly above all I can ask or think.”

Five years to the day after acquiring her, I dropped Griselda, dealing her a solid blow on the solar plexus. At first the results were merely whimsical: the CD drive began popping open randomly, like some high tech jack-in-the-box. The more ominous symptoms were slower in coming, but come they did.

Thanks to a whole new series of God’s provisions, I found and bought a new and improved laptop, which calmly proceeded to lap up all the time I didn’t have with set-up, incompatibilities, and sheer craziness.

Somehow I figured that a new computer meant a trouble-free life.

Not so much.

In fact, it was only one glitch in a whole series of troubles that kept me from writing when I wanted to.

A good journalist goes out of his way to actually experience the things he is writing about. A disciple of Jesus goes out of his way to follow first, and talk second. This is convicting and challenging for me as a writer and as a disciple!

Fortunately, He is involved in the process: I figure that whenever I’m writing about God, He is writing something in my life as well.

Or chiseling it in, for good measure.

Recently, a phrase from the story of the wedding at Cana caught my eye. Jesus had just turned the water into wine, so unobtrusively that hardly anyone knew where all these exquisite refreshments were coming from.

“But the servants that had drawn the water knew.”

Every day I’m served by some other child of God. And (God helping me) I write to serve them!

Behind the scenes is Jesus.

Few see how many hidden provisions make that service possible, how many unseen words are written into hearts before pen can meet paper with integrity and power.

“But the servants that had drawn the water knew.”

Elisabeth

March 25, 2010

Writing Life

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Postcard

I began to write seriously when I became a traveler. Now I’ve stopped traveling, apparently, to write. The life of a freelance writer — at least from where I sit in a rocking chair with snow falling outside my window — is not terribly glamorous or exciting. But if most of my travels are internal these days, that doesn’t stop them from being adventurous.

So let’s call this a postcard from the writing life.

Do you ever begin reading a book, and start plotting in your head to buy it, before you’ve gotten very many chapters in? That’s the way I felt about William Zinsser’s book Writing to Learn.

And why? Because he writes engagingly and humanly, vocalizing things that I’ve already thought — or at least half-thought — taking them to their very satisfying conclusion.

Take his soliloquy on obscurity in writing:

Obscurity being one of the deadly sins, anyone might suppose that serious people would labor mightily to avoid it in their writing. But to suppose this is to overlook another force of nature that almost equals entropy as a drag on life’s momentum. That force is snobbery. Yes, gentle reader (as the Victorian novelists put it when they had to deal with the darker traits), it pains me to say that there are writers who actually want to be obscure. Their principal habitat is Academia, though they can be spotted without the aid of binoculars wherever intellectuals flock. Not for them the short words and active verbs and concrete details of ordinary speech; they believe that a simple style is the sign of a simple mind. Actually a simple style is the result of harder thinking and harder work than they are willing and able to do. (p. 61)

The premise of the book is that the very act of writing demands and provokes clear thinking, making it an aid to learning on any subject. Even math and science, chemistry, music, geology and art.

There is something beautiful, it must be admitted, in reading people who are experts (and passionate experts) on their subjects, however boring I expected those subjects to be. To find out what goes on in the mind of a composer, or how personable the chemical elements can be, on closer acquaintance.

I’m not terribly thrilled, of course, with the high percentage of material on evolution. But at least he hasn’t dragged in more salacious material — an occupational hazard when you’re searching modern books on writing.

So I might not actually buy Zinsser’s book, but I’m taking something away nonetheless. A reminder of why I love to write: to take something that is (and is beautiful) and make it visible to others. To write cleanly, sparely, and logically — because it is beautiful, and because it is kind to your reader. To learn: to make new discoveries in the very act of writing, and come out richer than when you went in.

Elisabeth

February 16, 2010

Writing Life

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Tonight in Bethlehem

I love Christmas.

I love the excuse to talk about my Savior. I love the fact that the entire Western world is thinking about Him — or at least knows they ought to be thinking about Him, because it’s supposed to be His birthday.

I don’t know about you, but the more commercialized Christmas gets, and the busier my life becomes, the closer I want to get to the original story. If I could, I would get right inside it! Time travel would be really nice.

But one of the very best things about living and studying in the Holy Land was this: it gave more fuel to my imagination.

This story was a Christmas present.

It was my first holiday at home after a year in Israel, and I spent late Christmas afternoon in my room, listening to Handel’s “Messiah” and writing, writing, writing. I was closer than ever to getting inside the actual tale, and I wanted to share that with my friends.

There’s still a lot I don’t know about Jesus’ birth. Was it in December? If so, did it fall on the 25th, or Hanukkah? Or was it during the Feast of Tabernacles in the fall? What were the folks in Joseph’s hometown thinking? Was his family there when Mary’s baby was born? Did they really know what was happening?

After I’ve stretched to the limits of my knowledge and imagination, I’m still not satisfied. I need something more.

When I’m at home, I sit in our darkened living room (in fact, I’m doing it right this minute) and look at the lights on our tree. Somehow, it helps my heart to be quiet. Hanukkah lights do the same thing for me, when I’m in Jerusalem. They remind me that God’s work, while quiet, is powerful. And miraculous. And life-changing.

And honestly, that’s the best way to get inside the Christmas story: let the Author do His work inside of me.

Emmanuel: God with us.

Is here.

Right now.

Elisabeth

December 24, 2009

Boundless, Life in the Land

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Thanks

Writing for people I may never meet is not too different from sending out a message in a bottle.

I do it with trepidation, a dash of deliberate faith, and some real contentment to leave the results in God’s hands.

That doesn’t stop me, however, from looking forward to comparing notes with all of you once we get to heaven.

And then, sometimes, I get to hear from you in the here and now!

It’s not too late for thanks-giving, is it?

Good.

Because I’m thankful for you!

For Clara, who was the very first Boundless reader to write me a note.

For the many folks who simply sent along unselfish encouragement, including Alex, Christina, John, Mark, Hannah, Esther, Courtney, Talitha, Andrea-Elena, Jeanne, Sheree, Alice, Rael, Emma, Genevieve, Judith, Kristen, Emily, and Lyssa.

You encourage me to write authors who have served me.

I’m thankful for those who took the time to tell me how my writing affected them: Katherine, Dorcas, Jessica, Marie, Melanie, Nathanael, Jeremy, Elizabeth, Becky, Diana, Jen, Laura, Jason, Theresa, and Dan.

It was music to my ears.

I’m thankful for my fellow writers, who reminded me that I’m not alone: Suzanne, George, Anita, Kristyn, Danielle, and Natalie — and for Rachel, who was even willing to give me advice!

I’m thankful for Al, who suggested I read Desiring God — which not only refreshed me, but helped form the foundation for the joy and confidence in which I concluded “One Single Day.”

I’m thankful for Callie, who is praying for me.

I’m thankful for John and Mike, who are faithfully serving our country, and for Becky, Jennifer, and Johanna, who share my love of Israel.

I’m thankful for the many who willingly shared their stories, including: Dennis & Kristi, Dan & Pari, Don & Ellie, Mark & Liz, Shigeko, Bria, Anna, Sarah, James, Ariana, Kayla, Brandon, Joseph, Emma, David & Jonne, Kate, Gretchen, Chad, Blake, Peter, Kendra, Rachel & Gabe, Jason & Heather, Jeremy & Trina, Anthony & Tracy, Marie, Melissa, Dave & Pat.

Of course, there are many more to whom I’m indebted.

Most of all, I’m thankful for my Abba, who does all the creating, teaching, transforming, loving, and leading around here.

He’s good, isn’t He?

Elisabeth

December 2, 2009

Boundless

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Nurturing the Creative Life

Writing an article about writer’s block, while struggling with (you guessed it) writer’s block was deliciously ironic.

I actually took some of my own advice: I delved into G.K. Chesterton, C.S. Lewis, George MacDonald, and the book of Ecclesiastes. I prayed. I showed up and began typing.

But one of the best things I did never even made it into my article: I asked friends to brainstorm with me.

I wanted to know: What practical things do you do and what lifestyle do you lead in order to write/draw/compose/paint and otherwise be creative?

Marie has a passion for outcasts and orphans, whether in Russia, Thailand, and or New York City. She also has a passion to create: earrings, hats, t-shirts, photography, and paintings all find their way her Etsy shop. Here’s part of what she had to say:

I know God is a creator. And that is part of Himself that He has placed in me, a way that I was made in his image. We are His workmanship in Christ Jesus, created for good works… He made me this way. It is part of who I am. And I glorify God by creating and doing what He made me to do.

One of my creative outlets I don’t delve into as much is the fine art, painting, drawing side. It’s a bit more overwhelming. There’s actually a bit of fear that I feel before starting a piece… I’m not sure why. Maybe fearful that I won’t get it right… that it will be too hard.

One thing I learned in my drawing classes is that there is a point where your brain switches over to your more artistic, emotional side…where you see spatially and more clearly as an artist. Where your critic, the more “logical” side is shut up… and you just flow. When you are at this point you lose track of time (which is more logical) and you see more clearly to create… Putting on music and warming up will help an artist more quickly get to that point.

Kendra says her “personal creativity probably has more to do with idea-generating than with painting, drawing, or even writing.” Whether it’s designing curriculum, planning conventions, or creating magazine layout, she’s one of the most creative thinkers I know. Here’s how she nurtures the creative life:

*Walking is good for me because it creates space for my mind to ponder and imagine and brainstorm.
*Working with my hands (gardening, etc.), which somehow frees my mind to fly
*Taking time to take a class or do a seminar or conference or whatever. (Some of my best ideas have been generated while sitting through another long conference session or class. I got the best of both worlds: absorbing the good teaching and creating at the same time. But I wouldn’t have been free to create if I hadn’t been forced to sit still.)
*Keeping Sabbath (being diligent to enter that rest–it takes work to create truly quiet space. Heb. 4:11)
*Reading–great for the imagination! And not just fiction–my favorite magazine to read is “Entrepreneur,” which is chock-full of interesting business ideas!
*Praying–yes, really. God has given so many ideas when I talk to Him about puzzles or problems.

Peter delights in proclaiming God’s work in his life, whether with spoken or written word. Contrary to the right/left brain stereotypes, he is also involved in designing advanced math curriculum. Here’s what he recommends:

*Have conversations with the Creator
*Accept the presence of the Creator within
*Remove “static” which stifles creativity… this could be anything that dilutes our relationship with God
*Allow the Creator to use our bodies and lives on a daily basis to express HIMSELF
*For writing specifically, I am engaging in a form of communication. To be most effective, I find that I cannot be carrying on a monologue. Talking to others, especially others who reflect HIS creativity, helps me to find mine.

Elisabeth

November 24, 2009

Boundless

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(Don’t) Mind the Gap: Part 2

A radio. A sleepless night. A game of Rook.

God uses a lot of catalysts when He writes our stories.

A Bible study program. A nursing home.

He also comes up with some pretty creative locations!

Once again, I’m just the reporter for some fascinating love stories that include differences in age. Hope you get a glimpse of the trustworthiness of God in every situation!

Elisabeth

November 4, 2009

Boundless

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(Don’t) Mind the Gap

Age gaps in marriage: it’s a fascinating concept, but not altogether new to me. With a 7-year age gap on one side, and a 10-year gap on the other, my four grandparents managed to enjoy a collective 78 years of happy marriage.

But I needed some first-hand information if I was going to come up with a full-length article. So I contacted four couples, who range in age from my parents’ generation to my own. In some of their cases, the wife is older than her husband; in others, the husband is significantly older.

Normally, I request information by email, but this time I tried phone interviews…and I hit a gold mine! Not only did they have real-life insight about age gaps in marriage — but there was so much more: expectations and pursuit, submission and communication, early marriage and late, differences in culture, birth order, and spending styles…

I listened, typed, reported…

And over four hours of conversation later, that one article turned into two.

Talking to Dan & Pari, Dennis & Kristi, Don & Ellie, and Mark & Liz was such a pleasure and privilege: hearing their stories, their interaction (and in some cases, their children), laughing with them, and learning from their God-honoring lives.

Too bad I couldn’t have simply passed the headphones on to you —

but hopefully this is the next best thing.

Elisabeth

October 29, 2009

Boundless

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A Time to Waste

Five years ago, I wrote Mary and Martha’s story. Fresh from my first trip to Israel, I was living part-time in a tiny apartment in a retirement home, companion to a 97-year-old lady. There couldn’t have been a much stronger contrast. I went from radical life change to routine; having the whole city of Jerusalem for my back yard, to barely budging from the couch.

It was a hidden life, with spots of frustration, and moments of great beauty. Nothing was so beautiful as the occasional vivid flashes of reassurance: all of it was precious to God.

This story led a hidden sort of life, too. After it failed to place in the contest for which it was written, I brought it out only rarely: when I wanted some other single woman to know that she, too, was intensely precious. They made it easy for me to imagine Mary at the moment when she most emphatically honored her Savior. (And I didn’t have to look past the end of my own nose to find a Martha!) Suzanne Hadley describes it so well in her article: yes, we are vessels of honor. Man or woman, married or single, Mary or Martha.

If there was ever a vessel of honor, it was Jesus — and He seemed to think He could accomplish something through a hidden life in humble circumstances. If anyone ever had great potential, He did. But He poured it all out on my behalf, and never thought it a waste.

There might be a time for me to do that, too.

Elisabeth

September 25, 2009

Boundless

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Heart at Leisure

Jerusalem’s shuk in action. Courtesy of Wikimedia.

The shuk at rest. Courtesy of my sister.

You know those mornings where your alarm doesn’t go off, and you are awakened with an urgent call? When you resolve that issue, only to discover that you are missing a meeting you didn’t even know was taking place?

How about the days where everything is going smoothly, but you are somehow stuck? When you are dry, when you unable to produce anything creative?

I do.

I have seldom been busier and I love everything that I do! But my reservoir of courage and creativity lasts only so long before I need a refill. Sometimes, even this colorful, satisfying, demanding work that I do just needs to stop for a little while.

Just long enough for me to come away refreshed.

Elisabeth

September 9, 2009

Boundless, Life in the Land

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