As I sit down to write a blog today, this has been my process thus far. Look at an idea I jotted down several weeks ago. Try to remember why it seemed important and exciting at the time. Get a drink. And a bowl of popcorn. Iron some shirts. Look out the window at the rain. Research flights for an upcoming trip. Get another drink. Look through some scribbled notes that I put in a file. Yes, that might be something. Or not. Decide to have lunch and watch a design show, hoping that will put me in a more creative space. The show is over. Sit in the chair and start typing. Read it over and ask myself, is this really anything? Do I keep going or do I toss it out? Think about alternate careers, perhaps investing in a popcorn company. Eat chocolate. Sit at the computer again and type some more. Decide that writing something today is important, even if I delete most of it tomorrow. Wonder if inspiration is on vacation. Wish I was on vacation. Look out the window. Type more words. Delete a few. Type a few more. Get another drink. Sigh. Keep typing.
This is the process of writing for me. Sometimes the words flow a bit more easily, but many times, they do not. Process can be a bit of an unpopular word for creatives and those who just want to get the job done, but it shouldn't be. Process is a staple of life, like flour is to bread. It is different from the fast-acting yeast of inspiration. We sometimes make the mistake of thinking that we can make an entire loaf of bread (creative work) with only the airy bubbles of a leavening agent (inspiration), but it is nothing without flour (process). Process is the ingredient that we keep adding slowly, one handful at a time until we have something that sticks together, that is substantial, that nourishes. In a previous post, I wrote about how we tend to be drawn to the creation story where things magically appear when the creator speaks (Genesis 1). We are often less enthralled with the creation account in Genesis 2 which tells of crafting and toiling and partnership and making difficult choices. We love to enjoy the final products of creativity, but most times, we seriously undervalue the process by which something is created. Though process is seldom showcased, we all recognize that meals and movies and books and music and paintings and plays and the houses we live in and the communities we are part of are all crafted and developed over hours and days and weeks and perhaps even years.
When I read the stories in the Bible, all I see is process. Messy, ambiguous, unfinished process. I am reading through Genesis again, this time using Robert Alter's translation. He points out how the narratives are connected to each other. Instead of each one being a tidy tale in itself, the stories relate to what went before and prepare the reader for what is to follow. When you look at them together, patterns begin to emerge. The language found in the creation account is also found in the story of un-creation, the flood. Eve's pain in childbirth is echoed in God's pain over humanity's evil. When Abram goes down to Egypt because of a famine (Genesis 12), it is a foreshadowing of the later, difficult sojourn of his descendants in that land. In chapter 15, God says to Abram, "I am the Lord who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldees," a divine self-identification which closely relates to the one found in the Decalogue: "I am the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt." Laughter is a recurring motif in the Abrahamic story (Sarah, Abraham, Isaac, Lot, Ishmael). The hospitality Abram shows three strangers (serving the outsider) is followed by a tale of violent inhospitality (subjugating the outsider). The command to be fruitful and multiply is repeated, as is the promise that a great nation will come from Abram, but as the narrative unfolds with its stories of infertility and violence and strained relationships, we see that procreation is fraught with troubles. In addition, the lengthy genealogies inserted at various points in the narrative make the reader aware of the years and decades and centuries packed into the span of a few pages.
The Bible is steeped in process because life is process. It is pilgrimage. One second follows another, days turn into months, years become decades. Process keeps us from experiencing life in sudden, disorienting jolts and fits, allowing relatively smooth transitions from infancy to childhood, from novice to teacher, from sickness to health. Process gives us building blocks which connect one part of life with another and connect us to the world in which we live. Process provides context, constructing a narrative out of seemingly random moments. Process gives us the gift of editing, of re-creation, of reimagining, of perspective. Process is the seedbed of transformation.
Despite all the potential of process, we are prone to diminish it. One of the ways we do this is by trying to codify it. Based on past or projected success, we lay out steps to achieve a certain goal and declare that this is the way things must be done. Many people have been taught to read the Bible this way. See how Jesus did it. Or Moses did it. Or Paul did it. Break it down into easy to remember steps. Alliterate them if possible. Bam! Guaranteed results everytime in healing, discipleship, church planting, leadership, and triumphing over evil. This kind of over-simplification renders process ineffective and unsustainable, and the premise lacks any real support in the biblical text. Most problematic is the fact that it removes the element of relationship. Following Jesus is never about doing the right steps or finding the right formula. Jesus invited people into friendship, not a system.
The second way we diminish process is by viewing it as a curse instead of a gift. We see it as slow and inefficient. We often compare our process with another's and envy their apparent ease in achieving success. Of course, this is a delusion. We all have moments of inspiration and moments of drudgery, and we must avoid comparing our moments of drudgery with another's moment of inspiration. Process is a gift. Process teaches us patience and longsuffering, both characteristics of God. Process is what grants us the ability to create unique expressions out of our life experiences. Process is not a delay in getting things done. It is not inefficiency to be overcome nor inconvenience to grumble about. Process is how we cultivate a flourishing life. I cringe when Christians believe they can expect quick-fix miracles, on-demand prophetic messages, and unending material abundance. This posture of entitlement and its accompanying penchant for shortcuts have little in common with the life of Jesus, the one who came to serve, not be served. Jesus spent thirty years learning and growing and living as a human being before he ever stepped into the role of a teacher. It is this unhurried posture, this humble life of pilgrimage, that reveals the loving presence of God.
God does not show love by bypassing process. God shows love by entering into process, by becoming human and journeying with us in the ups and the downs of life, year after year after year. Process is the gift of presence. It invites us to pay attention, to be present to God, to each other, to the world, and to our own journey. Every minute of every day.
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