I Wield A Wild Pen

I live out in the middle of nowhere, far from any settlements of civilization. Because of this, I occasionally attend church in Springfield, Illinois via the technological marvel which is the internet. I'm able to watch a live stream of Pastor Eric Hansen's sermon without leaving my country cottage. I watch Hansen's sermons because he used to pastor my church back home, so I'm fairly familiar with him, though that was many years ago.

A while back, he gave a sermon with the tag line "wield a wild brush." He used the metaphor that we are each born unique individuals and should live our lives as though we were painting a unique and beautiful masterpiece. However, as we grow up, many of us conform to the ideals and expectations of society and culture. Our intended masterpiece becomes a cheap, simple paint by numbers facsimile that can be purchased at any bargain store. Our lives, our "masterpieces," end up mundane and indistinguishable from those of everyone else around us.

Hansen challenges us to defy this trend and utilize the gifts and talents God gave us to live a unique and radical life. He dares us to wield a wild brush, painting outside the lines with an infinite array of colors to create a truly unrepeatable work of art. Don't wait until it's too late. For once you're dead, that's it. No one will paint your masterpiece for you after you die. Only you can do it. Don't deprive this world of your masterpiece.

He admits that the church tends to stifle such creativity. There's a system and an established way to do things within the church. It's hard to get outside of that. But we must try. There are so many creative ways to preach the gospel besides a minister speaking from behind a pulpit every Sunday. We should seek venues outside of that familiar comfort zone in which we can use our gifts. Then we can wield a wild brush.

This message spoke to me quite a bit and I took it to heart. But, I changed it up a little and made it more specific to my certain abilities. Instead of a brush, I wield a wild pen.

Every year the Assemblies of God hold a Fine Arts Festival for its youth. Entries in all sorts of categories compete at the district level and then may go on to the national level. In 2004 I wrote a short story that's usually summarized as being about dead missionaries and fire breathing dinosaurs in the jungle. It clearly presented a message, but did so in an obviously unorthodox way. My mom seemed quite shocked when she read it, inquiring as to how in the world I came up with such a story. I shrugged. It all came rather naturally to me.

Before submitting it, my mom handed it off to Kathy, the woman who was more or less spearheading Fine Arts in our church, to read. It wasn't until a few months ago that she enlightened me about her initial impression of that story. She didn't get it. She didn't understand it or see how it could go anywhere in Fine Arts. It was just so weird, bizarre, and unusual that she wasn't sure what to make of it. It wasn't until months later, when I read my story in front of the congregation one Sunday, that my tone and inflection made the piece come alive and gave her a better understanding of it.

At the time it was too different and beyond typical church convention for her. She wasn't prepared for it. She wasn't ready for it. For it had been written with a wild pen.

You see, in 2004, I won first place at the national Fine Arts Festival in the category of Short Story. My Christian message encapsulated in a tale of dinosaurs and death apparently captured the attention of the judges. If I won for nothing else, it was for being unique.

Shortly after, Kathy conscripted me to try my hand at writing several short skits for the youth to perform. I churned out a number of scripts, but they were all rejected and were never performed. As she told me recently about my story, she also admitted that she just wasn't prepared for those types of skits. Neither, presumably, was the church in general.

But times have changed and somehow she became attune with the unusual lines my pen scribbles across the page. This past Christmas she asked me to write the annual Christmas play that she would direct. This was quite an honor and I worked hard to produce a script of quality. The final product was certainly unique in terms of story, content, and performance. Several elements were included in the play that I never would have dreamed would be seen on the stage. I may have put words to the page, but Kathy dared direct a wild play.

People came. People who probably wouldn't normal show up to a small church Christmas pageant came. Many were surprised and taken off guard. It also grabbed their attention, for this play did not fit into the normal, paint by numbers mold.

The experience and success of the play turned a casual notion into a solid resolve. I can't let myself fall into a paint by numbers life. God gave me a wild pen and I must wield it. So, I'll begin attending seminary this fall so I may learn more about this deity I worship and more effectively utilize this talent. In the meantime, I've recently written some more skits for the youth back home. Two of them will be competing at nationals later this summer.

Anybody who reads this blog knows that my ideas may be as radical as my words. But a wild pen means nothing if it lacks wild ideas behind it.

I wield a wild pen.
Beware, be cautious,
For it is dangerous.

- Mitch Alfson