42 Ways to Tell God Something

This idea is from the section on the Psalms. The Psalms talk about meeting God in a spacious place, and convey that in their diversity. They are a space to meet God in medias res: right where you are in the story. Joyful, winning, grateful. Angry, heartbroken, confused, alone.

I started playing with this list the other night, thinking about how sometimes talking to God is hard. It made me think about why talking to anyone is hard. How to break the ice, how to take a chance.

Sometimes it’s the somebody, maybe it’s the something.

If it’s somebody you already know, maybe it’s because there’s tension in the air. Assumptions. Actual known grievances, on both sides. Maybe you haven’t talked in a long time, and it gets harder to think about where to start a conversation every time you entertain the idea.

If it’s somebody you don’t know and you’re trying to start a new conversation, there can be even more unknowns. Maybe they’ll think you are so not cool. Or worth their time. You can wonder if you have anything to offer them, or if you’re just another obligation.

And then, there’s the something.

It’s hard to be vulnerable. It’s a risk to speak something hard to someone––a confession, a heartbreak, a fear, a hope. It’s scary. Sometimes kids say hard things while hiding under the covers. Sometimes grownups something hard in a note.

These things can all be true of talking to God. Maybe playing can help: an other-than-expected beginning to a conversation can help express, articulate what’s getting in the way.

God speaks all the languages we speak. English, Tagalog, ASL, body language, art: use what you’ve got. God is always loving and is game for the conversation.

Thus, 42 (at the moment) ways to tell God something. Got some others? Do they hit right? Wrong?

Update on where things are

Well, we’ve officially announced that Play Book has a home at Rabbit Room Press! About 15 months til I turn this book in. If you would like to support the process, your open ears and financial support are the wind beneath my wings. It’s been amazing to see that the majority of paid subscribers join at the Founding Member $100 level, where you receive an early signed copy of the book. Crazy. Gives me courage.

• I just had two great weeks of writing in St. Louis and I’m back in my Nashville groove with some essay drafts. I’m grateful to our friends Eric and Emily for their dear friendship, the hospitality and letting our kiddos run as a pack, at camp and your home, for two weeks. Let’s do it again.

• Illustrator

  Sophie Killingley
  and I are catching some serious vision, and it’s inspiring us both. (She said so. Just quoting.) We talk so much (online, she lives in England), not just because we like each other, but because it really helps us lock into the aesthetic, the point, the story we’re telling together.

We talk about why I super like this:

And this:

And also this:

And for Play Book, especially with this poem that hearkens back the canyon story from the second half of this post, it’s this. I love it so much.

Early draft, y’all. Not typeset. But we hope you enjoy. Is this too much in one post? I think I’d rather give you too much.

• Also, we are delighted that Sophie’s coming to Nashville in October! We are going to spend some concentrated time getting stuff done. And wouldn’t it be awesome if this one grant came through and I could go have a UK work week with her in the early spring?

Alright, then. I’m lining up our July speaker, and I’ll share that next week. If you have time to go hear my talk last week with Dr. Brian Edgar, author of The God Who Plays, it was a joy.

I want to say again, thank you. Having you along for the ride is making this a lot more fun. The comments, the conversations, the questions. It’s the best. If you know anyone who’d be interested in talking about play and God at play, pass it on.