Today I was driving and couldn't figure out what I want to listen to. Typically I'll pop on a good podcast like On Being with Krista Tippet or NPR's Ted Radio Hour. Sometimes I'll venture over to Pandora and listen to some music. This morning I found myself not knowing what I want to listen to. It felt like my head was already full.

It got me thinking about the walk I took last night. I had a similar experience. Walking in the cool air without headphones I noticed the sound of my breath, the sound of the wind, the sound of the trees, the sound of my walking. It seemed odd for a semi-urban neighborhood to sound so still.

As I walked without headphones all the things that have been churning and spinning and processing in my head all day connected like links in a chain and spilled out of my steps. It felt cleansing.

So as I was driving today, and my thoughts began to clear and I began to feel better, I started to realize that this quiet is what facilitated that release for me. And it made me realize how important quiet is for my internal health, and yet how hard it is to make room for seeming nothingness. It feels good to have the busyness of sound around me. It at times gives me a sense of familiarity, which is comforting when when its not good for me.

I used to think silence meant hearing nothing so I could think nothing so that my mind would be completely clear. But I wonder now if quiet is more about opening a valve inside myself, and giving myself room to notice what is already taking place inside of me. And even more, allowing Jesus who's already loving me there to meet me in the quiet, in the connecting of all the swirling thoughts and emotions. Ultimately, even as scary as it can be to enter, in the quiet I am not alone.

Share with me in the comments.

I long for those experiences. And yet it wasn't that long ago I was able to name what had been missing for me in my church experiences for so many years: beauty.

Each time I see or step into a cathedral or stained glass chapel I find myself unconsciously responding to the reality of God, his love through Jesus, and that we're all in this life and world together. It (quite literally at times) draws my eyes up and drains the anxiety from my shoulders. God uses beauty to hold me in his truth.

Not all churches can meet in frescoe-d spaces, but we can be mindful of the power of aesthetics in our gathering spaces. We can invest our attention, time, and resources into fertilizing the artists and opportunities around us so beauty can grow in our midst. Perhaps it's one of the best things we can do when our ears are tired of hearing, and our messages and advertising sound increasingly so similar.

Beauty is not a luxury - it is a life sustaining necessity. I forget that truth so often until I'm again caught up in its firm hold. Let us imitate our Creator and make our church, our communities, and our world beautiful again. ​

Christine Lee Smith
Founder of Epiphany:Visio

After a 3-day delay in Austin, Texas earlier this week due to 15" of rain in 7-hours, and some fried flight tower electronics, I (Christine) got home to get sick. All the stress, frustration, tension, and processing I did to hold it together spent me. My body quite literally gave up and said, "No more."

I hate landing on my back like that. It makes me feel weak and helpless, because it makes me weak and helpless. And I love my strength -- it's a great gift, and also a great defense mechanism to avoid tending to my own needs. I believe, in the moment, I have no needs. Which is utterly false, but I need to believe it when I'm in that mental state. Occasionally Jesus lets me get away with it, for a little while. This time my body tapped out, and I surrendered. It was painful. 

And then as I started to feel better bit by bit I found the temptation to jump back in (I can be really stubborn), but this thought stopped me in my tracks: I may be healed, but there is the after affect of recovery. The siege on my nasal cavity has ended, but now is the phase after the party once all the guests are gone: the clean up. I'm still not operating at 100%, my body still needs rest.

I'm now being invited to recover, now that the healing is done. I'm being invited into a physical therapy of sorts -- both in my body, and in my soul. And it's odd to me, but so true, how my body leads me to see what Jesus may be inviting me to internally: recovery. 

It's an oddly beautiful little miracle: Jesus used my weakness to show me his kindness. He's not the one demanding me to get back on the path. He's the one inviting me to linger a little while longer in stillness and rest. 

Take a moment and settle into your seat. Breathe deeply. 

• What do you notice about your breath?
• How is your body?
• Where does noticing these things lead you?

I'd love to hear from you. Share your own thoughts or experiences in the comments. 

Tonight we had our first Sacred Space: An Evening of Prayer and Quietness Together. It was simply that: a time filled with journaling, praying, sharing. It was utterly refreshing and filled with calm settling.

Crayons, markers, our photo cards, and a projected image filled the first part of our time together. Then we prayed through the Thursday Compline in the Celtic Daily Prayer book. At the end we shared a piece of where Jesus led us in our time.

And when I got home, to a surprise delivery of an order I'd forgotten was arriving today (All Desires Known by Janet Morley), I started flipping no through the book. I discovered a poem called Sacred Space. Seemed fitting. And I was surprised by how drawn in I was by this poem as it captured my heart for starting this event:

Holy God,
whose presence is known
in the structures we build,
and also in their collapse;
establish in us a community of hope,
not to contain your mystery,
but to be led beyond security
into your sacred space,
through Jesus Christ, Amen.

Like a kid who knows they're going to Disneyland, I can't wait till next weekend. It's the second Art & Prayer workshop. The first one in October was so much fun, powerful, and connecting we decided to do it all over again with a new group (and few returning) of amazing people. 

One of my favorite parts is not that we learn a lot of amazing things about Jesus, how he connects with us in prayer, and how beauty is a very helpful tool in helping us go deeper in our faith journeys (and we do all that) but we get to experience together the power of praying in this new way. We meet together as we meet with Jesus. It's a communal experience I love to be a part of and witness at the same time.

If you've ever wondered how beauty or art impact your spiritual life, or maybe you're feeling a little spiritually dusty right now, this experience may be for you. If you're sensing a tug on your heart, check it out and learn more, or register, on this website at: http://www.epiphanyvisio.com/events.

Registration is still open. Space is limited. Reserve your spot today. All are welcome.

Last spring I injured my left foot three times within a three-month time span. Starting with an overextension in yoga, followed by a screen door gash, and finally a hyper-extended big toe. It was not a good season for my left foot. 

I knew the injuries would take time to heal. So I waited, and waited. Over the months my foot healed from its various contusions and lacerations, mostly. I got along fine, mostly, even resuming yoga, not noticing I had altered my walking patterns to accommodate the occasional returning pain or discomfort. Until I my husband lovingly gave me a foot massage the other night. Within minutes I nearly jumped out of my seat from the pain shooting through my foot. I was keenly aware of how not healed my foot was in this moment. I made a doctor's appointment that week. 

Today I went to meet my new doctor, honestly not expecting much. After a few routine questions, and examination, she about determined what was wrong: a damage to some nerve endings, followed by continued swelling from my foot's encounter with the corner of the screen door. Alone, she said, I probably would have healed fine and well of each. But together they were a little much for my body to process, and each kept me from fully healing. With treatment she thinks I have a great chance at full recover. Thankfully, she said, I didn't wait too long to come in and see her. 

After I arrived home I noticed for the first time since all this hub-bub I was able to walk with full pressure on my foot. It was amazing. I felt relief enter from the top of my head to the bottom of my foot. It was like the tension I was unconsciously carrying drained from my being. I was literally at peace. Delight. Joy. Gratefulness.

Sitting in this contented state Jesus' healing the paralyzed man at the pool came to mind. Jesus literally asked the guy: "Do you want to get well?" 

The man doesn't scream "YES!" with relief (which is what I picture on the flannel-graph in my mind). He tells Jesus why he hasn't already been healed. I almost wonder if the guy felt like he'd been caught for being there for so long (38-years, John 5 tells us) -- maybe even feeling like Jesus was accusing him of taking up too much space. And from the continuing conversation (Jesus completely healed him on the spot), Jesus was not accusing him, but simply asking if he wanted to be healed. It seems like such an obvious answer, but in my experience it's often not.

My foot is a simple example of just that reality -- I've been limping along for nearly a year, thinking it wasn't a big enough deal to get help with, doubting help or relief could truly even come. I never asked Jesus to heal my foot. If he'd asked me, I probably would have sounded a lot like the paralytic. Thankfully Jesus took me by the hand and led me to the beginning of my healing. Then I started to think of all the other times I've never bothered to ask Jesus for healing, in relationships, in difficult feelings, in trying circumstances. 

Feel free to journal your responses in your prayer time, or reflect briefly here on the blog in the comments section. We'd love to hear from you.

• When have you assumed a situation or circumstance was not a big enough deal to bring to Jesus?
  
• Where in your life is Jesus asking you: Do you want to get well?
  
• How does it feel to consider inviting Jesus in the mess with you, to ask for his healing touch?
  

In this project you're exploring who Jesus is to you, today, in this moment. Not necessarily what you believe about Jesus, but how do you experience him? This project helps us look at our relationship with Jesus and explore it more deeply. Who do you see when you picture Christ? It's only through the place of truth of our perception (this is how I really experience Jesus) that we can accept the truth of who he actually is. We move through perception and experience to truth.

If you did this project, or are thinking of doing it:

• What was the experience like? Or how do you imagine it will be?
  
• How is it to think of Jesus in this context?
• What was the most surprising, or uncomfortable, part of the project?