Monday, 16 November 2020

Tender Heart

Tender heart,

you bleed all over

this broken, hardened world,

holding the shards

of yet another hope,

shattered beyond repair. 


Aching heart,

drawing so tightly 

within your paper-thin walls—

an illusion of shelter

between a cruel world

and your lifeblood.


Courage, dear heart,

your spirit bears

within this gift of pain

a gentleness so strong

to die a thousand deaths

and still know how to cry.


Wednesday, 12 August 2020

A New Song

 

The journey of grief is a cyclical one. I keep finding new thoughts and perspectives on my mom's death that bring the grief back to the forefront again. A few weeks ago it was the realization that I didn't really get to have a birthday. So I wrote a little birthday song for myself.

Friday, 7 August 2020

Mommy Moments: Nana Knows

*discussing with the children for the fifteenth time that dogs can’t have chocolate because it makes them sick*

5-year-old: The only dogs that can have chocolate are the dogs in heaven!

Me: ... yeah, maybe.

5-year-old: (shrugs) nobody knows.

3-year-old: Nana knows!

Mommy Moments: Cuddles?


Just trying to sneak in a little lie down while the kids were playing, and my thoughtful 3-year-old brought me a rubber chicken head to cuddle.

Thanks?

Friday, 17 July 2020

Beautiful (for D.S. and all the others)

My friend,
You’re beautiful. 

Your smile,
The way that laughter bursts out of you,
The light in your eyes
When you talk about the things you love. 

You’re beautiful. 

I am so sorry
For a world that judges you
At a glance,
A world that rejects you
For a different image,
A world that is blind
And selfish
And deeply broken. 
I am so sorry. 

I think you’re beautiful. 

The shade of your skin,
The colour of your eyes,
Your hair, and size, and shape,
It’s perfect. 

Who you are—
Inside and outside
You are worth so much more
Than they have told you. 
My voice may not mean much,
But I know
The Master Artist thinks so too. 

Have you seen it?
Can you dare to believe just how precious you are?
You are precious,
Just the way you are. 
Every part of you
Wonderfully made. 
A masterpiece.

Beautiful. 

Saturday, 27 June 2020

Dying Church


Last year I created a painting that I called "Dying Church". Three months in the making, it is the most time-consuming piece of visual art that I have made. I meant to share it here with all of you a long time ago, but life gets busy, and to be honest I was a bit nervous about sharing it. "Dying Church" is meant to be thought-provoking and challenging - not a feel-good piece of art. And that's a bit intimidating! But I also think it is important to raise difficult questions, because that is a part of how we learn and grow. So with that preamble out of the way, I'd love to tell you more about my painting!


"Dying Church" was created as a multi-staged painting, with each stage accompanied by a short poem. To see all the stages and read the accompanying poetry, you can visit my website: leanewinger.com.

I created this painting as I wrestled with the question - Can a church die? How does that happen? And why would God let that happen?

This is the most evident in the walls of the church in the painting. They are literally crumbling and falling down, but no one seems to be noticing or doing anything about it.


The stained-glass windows tell us a little bit about this church. The righthand window symbolizes money, and the window beside it represents safety and security. While neither of these things are inherently bad, they become very problematic when they are idols being worshipped in the church. The centre window has itself been broken. Once, it represented social justice, but a social justice that obscured Christ, and neglected the centrality of what he did on the cross. It is a stark reminder that even good and important things can become idols that turn our hearts away from the One True God.

The accompanying poem ends in a very dark place:

dust rises
choking out the light
lost and empty, staring
into nothing

It reflects that hopelessness that I feel when I see just how broken and apathetic the church can be. But even in this ending, there is a glimmer of hope; a hope that can be seen if we return to the beginning of the poem:

out of nothing
everything
brilliant light
a voice


Because, you see, God can work with nothing. He's done it before. Even if we fail, and all our efforts and good intentions crumble away, that is not the end for God. He can do far more with our nothingness than we could ever imagine. Christ came so that we may have life, and sometimes before we can truly accept that we need to realize how dead we are, how helpless we are without him.


The theme of death and rebirth is found in the second stage of the painting - Nebula. Both the graveyard of dying stars, and the nursery of new stars, Nebulae are hauntingly beautiful, and a reminder that we do not need to fear death, because we know the maker of new beginnings.


Christ's sacrifice reaches even us. No matter how much we have failed, or how much we or our churches are falling apart. That is why we still have hope, because our hope is not in ourselves. Our hope is in our Creator God, who can make something out of our nothingness. Our hope is in Christ our Saviour, who died to give us life.

As a complete work, "Dying Church" is a sobering call for the people of God to wake up, to put away our idols, and to reach out to the hurting and disillusioned world that we have left outside our crumbling walls. It is a call to not turn our backs on the saving work of Christ, but to find our identity and hope in the one who gave himself for us and who can make us new.


Monday, 22 June 2020

Angel

Angel with the broken wing,
Was the radiance of heaven itself
Merely the flickering of a fluorescent bulb,
A tarnished halo dimly reflected
In some long forgotten dream?

I loved a mirage.

A room of mirrors - is this the truth
Or another twisted image
Unknowable
Somehow beyond my reach
And fading further away.

Lost in the dark
With faded photographs
And crumbling memories

I want my angel back.