Today is Sunday, my day of REST. So its time to have some fun and think about something unusual, out of my normal life pattern. Rarely do I get to listen to some of history’s greatest creative prodigies talk freely about the creative process. This interview with Bill Evans (1929-1980) is worth watching. He was a brilliant and innovative jazz pianist, and one of the most influential creative forces in the history of jazz. His insights into the creative process extend way beyond music. In this video he is talking about jazz technique, but I’m thinking about my life, relationships and work. Notice his persistent idea that the jazz innovation emerges from truth. Here, an artist talks about truth in the realm of music much in the same way that a theologian talks about truth in theology. To me that’s
In “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for …” (Hebrews 11:1) In the closing weeks of World War II, the American cruiser U.S.S. Indianapolis was churning westward in the Pacific Ocean en route to the Philippines. Just after midnight, an enemy submarine emerged into the balmy air and launched two torpedoes into …
THE GREATEST IMPROVISATIONAL ATHLETE in my generation was Ervin “Magic” Johnson, the great point guard of the Los Angeles Lakers. When Magic was gliding down the court no one in the world had any idea what he was about to do with the ball. Whatever he did usually shocked everyone, including his teammates, and it almost always generated baskets.
As great as he was, it would be impossible for Magic Johnson to
Each morning, we are offered the chance to rise up and worship the Creator. He is so vast and glorious, and yet he is concerned today with the smallest details of our lives. Nothing is beyond the reach of the Artist’s paintbrush. Woven into the entire fabric of divine revelation are tantalizing glimpses of
WHEN I WAS AN 8TH GRADER, OUR SCHOOL’S DRAMA TEACHER suggested that I try out for the school play. I signed up and was given a part. My role was to carry a ladder onto the stage, climb to the top, and pretend to change a light bulb. From atop that ladder I was to speak two lines.
WEEKS BEFORE THE PLAY, my imagination began to conjure up disastrous scenarios.
IN JUNE 1944, WHILE WAITING TO BE EXECUTED in a Nazi prison cell, Dietrich Bonheoffer wrote some of the most soul searching poetry I’ve encountered. The marching boots of certain death approached with each tick of the clock. In this condition of unimaginable anxiety, his words plunged with unmasked veracity into the freedom of truth. In one poem called Who Am I? he wrote the following lines: