Angela Parlin

We Will Make Art: A Million Little Ways Blog Tour & Giveaway

November 21, 2013 By: Angela Parlin

I am excited today to participate in the Revell Books Blog Tour and bring you this review of my latest favorite book—A Million Little Ways: Uncover the Art You Were Made To Live by Emily P. Freeman.

This book is a masterpiece. And the author will tell you in its pages—So are you.

There are not many authors who make me want to read their books twice. Right in a row. Like finish page 212, breathe, sigh, open back up to page 11 where the writing begins, and start again. But this is my experience with A Million Little Ways. Yes, I have a stack of other books waiting to be read—but this one’s too good to put down just yet.

The first thing I noticed when I pulled this book out of the box was a question on the back cover.

“Do you desperately fear you have nothing to offer the world but secretly hope you’re wrong?”

“You were born to make art. You were made to live art. You might not see yourself as an artist, but you are—in so many unexpected ways.”

Emily makes the case that we are all artists, made in the image of God, who first created. So yes, this book is for traditional artists. But it’s also for people who do anything…it’s for all of us.

“You are an image bearer with a job to do….You are art and you make art.”

Emily suggests readers stay right where we are, and look in five different places—where we will begin to “uncover the art [we] were born to make”. She speaks as one who has been with Jesus, has learned from her journey, and is willing to share generously with her readers.

You will adore her honesty, and maybe even gain the courage to admit your own interior messes in the presence of others. Which frees us all to love each other and be who we really are, doesn’t it?

Some of the ways I make art these days…

In the end, Emily encourages us to release the art we were made to live. She says to show up—as we are, where we are and believe God wants to come out of us in a million little ways. Art, much like love, is “yourself ALIVE in the world, for His glory and for the benefit of others.” I hope you will read this book, because it has reshaped my thinking…in a million little ways.

And now, because I was given a free copy of this book in exchange for my honest review, I would love to give it away. Leave me a comment–just tell me a line from this review that piqued your interest in the book. I’ll pick a winner on Sunday November 24 at 5 pm. Until then…

“We are His poem, and we will make art.”

Update: Giveaway winner is Kim K.!!! Congratulations, Kim!

Grace in Stillness

November 19, 2013 By: Angela Parlin

I waved goodbye to the stillness of the lake and headed toward the beautiful chaos I call home.

It was a quick weekend retreat with a few admirable women. We met at a friend’s cozy cabin, surrounded by trees and overlooking the water. It was an opportunity, a gift to spend a number of hours alone with the Lord, praying through different scriptures. But the best part of that was the listening.

I didn’t touch my laptop, my day planner, the TV. I didn’t answer questions by the handful or serve my littles a meal or pick up all their things. I didn’t run from event to event or keep anyone on schedule. Time at the lake was a different, wonderful rhythm.

Jesus often left the chaos of the crowds and went off alone to pray. He also left that solitude to meet people’s needs. We can imitate Him by spending time at home each day away from our crowd, in His presence. But so often I find that time rushed. Which is a by-product of a life spent rushing.

“When I am constantly running there is no time for being. When there is no time for being there is no time for listening.” –Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water

We are clock-watchers, schedule-keepers, and list-makers. We are phone-scanners, instant-messengers, and facebook-checkers. Our lives are a series of events. We breathe shallow. This is our usual rhythm, and that of our neighbors.

Most of us know we need margin. We know it won’t appear out of nowhere. But we still fight the urge to say yes to every invitation.

I don’t know about you, but it catches up to me. Sometimes I know I’m worn out, but I just keep swimming.

What would happen if we did less? Would we miss too much? Would our kids? Or would we all gain something more?

Psalm 46 ends with this amazing grace–Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations; I will be exalted in the earth.

Another version says, Cease striving.

It’s okay to stop striving, to stop keeping up with everyone else. Because He is God and He will be exalted.

In all my running, when it’s busyness gone wild, what exactly am I striving for?

And when striving, who exactly do I trust in?

In Hebrew, the word translated “be still” could also say Let Go.

Letting go is the heart of stillness, and herein lies our struggle to be still and listen.

May we let go, and acknowledge that He is God.

Hope, Possible

November 12, 2013 By: Angela Parlin

Is it possible to walk into this November Tuesday, with a posture of hope?

Even knowing of the typhoon. And the 10,000 people.

Is hope possible when Syrian children still wander as refugees? When littles taste terror and wear scars of war?

Can we hope despite plane crashes and famines, cancer and nuclear bombs?

Hope is “the feeling that what’s wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best” (Dictionary.com). Can we believe, even though the horrors continue and we see no soon resolve?

I was 22, when I signed up for a Bible study. I showed up to a room full of women over 50. And then there was me, fresh out of college, with a fancy new job and a handsome new husband. Life was nothing but good.

But then, women told their real life stories. They had lost parents and friends. Cancer had stolen their sisters. And many years before, one woman’s tiny baby stopped breathing in her hands.

You’d better believe I left there, praying. Their stories made me scared. But 15 years later, what I remember most about those women was the way they carried on–with hope.

God tells us there will be pain here. There will be suffering. Disease. Disaster. Hatred. War.

But we want to read on past that in our Bibles, don’t we? Because we don’t want to bear those losses! I know I’m not the only one who prays, Lord, please, don’t let me go through something like that.

Today, the world is heavy with disaster…but may we live light, because of hope. Because we–who believe–were at one time enemies of God, and alienated from Him. But Jesus fought for us. He brought peace between believers and God Most High. And Jesus will bring peace again. He’s the only real hope we have.

Will you move into this day, this night, with hope? Just don’t keep it all to yourself. Give some hope away today.

Let us pray for the suffering. Donate our dollars, even when they feel small. And whatever comes, Do not move from the hope held out in the gospel.

*If you want to provide urgent relief for typhoon survivors, click here to donate to Compassion International, who are there, in the Philippines, spreading hope.

We All Fall Down

November 8, 2013 By: Angela Parlin

The last of the maple leaves fell today.

Autumn winds pressed, making red leaves dance, and they all found places to land. Now they scatter across the lawn, at the mercy of children who push them around and stomp them. It feels a lot like poetry.

“Before the leaves can mount again

To fill the trees with another shade,

They must go down past things coming up.

They must go down into the dark decayed.”

—Robert Frost, In Hardwood Groves

There’s a mysterious beauty in all this falling, an embedded reflection in the cycle of seasons.

Jesus talked about seeds falling to the ground to produce more seeds. About death leading to life.

Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. –John 12:24-25, NIV

Jesus was getting ready to produce more seeds, to give life to all. Like the kernel of wheat, He fell down to His death before being raised up to glory. His first disciples also followed Him to physical death, as martyrs. But there’s an important spiritual principle for all of us here.

To truly follow Jesus, we will be fully committed to Him, leaving no room for self-concern. This is what it means to “hate our life” and die to ourselves, in order to live.

Back in January, I asked God for a word for this year, and I immediately knew it was Victory.

I thought this meant that He wanted to bring me victory in some area of my life. When I think about victory, I usually think of winning, triumph, or success. I don’t think of surrender, of falling to the ground, or dying.

But each time Victory came up this year, the message was clear. Victory is found in surrender, in yielding, in dying.

Victory means allowing His strength to shine through my weakness. It’s taking joy in smallness. It’s giving up control, and falling into Jesus.

Doesn’t that seem a little upside-down? It didn’t line up with my idea of victory–as success. But sometimes we have our definitions all mixed up in this world.

So I stood outside this morning, watching trees release leaves at the peak of the season. I thought about how the leaves all fall down and the remaining branches look dead before they fill up with life again. I hope I’ll always remember fall as an illustration of surrender.

Grace~The Plunge {Five-Minute Fridays}

November 1, 2013 By: Angela Parlin

Today I’m linking up with Lisa-Jo Baker and the Five-Minute Friday crowd for the prompt, Grace. Feel free to join in!

~GRACE~ pool2

Long ago, I jumped into the pool. The water covered me. All was right with the world, and clear. This pool was not like any other. It didn’t make my hair turn green, or my skin prune, or my teeth chatter. I wanted to stay forever.

I didn’t stay in though. I retreated to the steps. For a while, I remained on the first step, where only my feet sank. Later, I stepped down further, and the water covered more of me. Now and then, a little courage would propel me forward. I would leave the certainty of the steps and swim nearby.

But I never went far, because of my fear, and because of the voices.

Some of the voices shouted from outside the pool–warning me, taunting me, lying to me. They said, Get out, or at least stay there where it’s safe. Other voices came from those sharing the crowded steps. They were afraid, and so was I. Sometimes I shared my fears and became a voice they heard.

Every once in a while, some juvenile swimmer would defy all our feelings, would swim past fear and paddle past doubt out into the heart of that pool. Humbly, triumphantly, even desperately they swam out into the deep end.

And there they’d stay. They grew at home in the deep end, and never returned to crowded steps at the edge of the pool.

We looked at each other, bewildered. How could they swim so far? At least here, on the steps, our feet had something to stand on. What if they got tired of swimming, what then? I didn’t understand.

But I watched their courage afloat. Instead of paddling hard, they were holding out hands to one another, their eyes fixed higher.

How many times I wanted to go! Little flashes of inspiration, big mountain-top moments, a Word that struck something deep within me…I wanted to try the deep end of the pool for myself. But the voices holding me back, they didn’t stop. They shouted loudly when I felt inspired to go. I had developed a voice of my own by then, too. A reasonable voice, which reminded me to be content and live within my abilities.

But then I noticed what all the brave floaters’ eyes were fixed on. I saw the Lifeguard. His eyes caught mine, and I turned away. When I glanced back, He was still watching. Waiting. Yes, you. And then He said my name! Come!

This was more than a little flash of inspiration. This was the moment I stopped cowering and took the plunge. I started living. I barely paddled, but with eyes fixed on the Lifeguard, floated to my new home, at the deep end of the pool, the pool of grace.

After grieving for the years of misunderstanding–time when life was right here, so close, and yet so far away–I learned to move about effortlessly, and full.

It didn’t take long to discover that grace would take a lifetime, or more, to fully grasp. So I would remain. Trusting, at rest, afloat the rest of my days in the infinity pool of grace.

STOP.

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We Will Make Art: A Million Little Ways Blog Tour & Giveaway

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Grace in Stillness

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Hope, Possible

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We All Fall Down

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Grace~The Plunge {Five-Minute Fridays}

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Compassion International

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