There is something behind everything we create. We’re all searching for it. Whatever “it” is. The passion behind every song we sing, the imagination behind every picture we make on paper, the emotion behind every single word we pen in our writing. When we create, we feel better, gaining more freedom, even though we don’t know what it is we are becoming free from. But it’s our only release to let out what we can’t contain. Often it comes out as anger because this “thing” frustrates our thinking and messes with our heads and anger is the result. But I see hope woven into the anger, not hate. Hate blackens our world, but I see a people who seek to color it. That’s hope. Hope means there’s still a chance things will get better for us, that tomorrow doesn’t have to be gray if we remember the sun that still exists behind the overcast sky.

We’re just kids looking to create something good. What happened to the simple life of a child promised to me? The child inside listened to the wrong people. They changed his name, making him believe he had to become something he was never meant to be and live a life he wasn’t designed to live. They told him to conform to the society they made or he wouldn’t survive. Manipulated and controlled, the kid inside hid behind the couch, fearing abuse. But that was long ago. So long ago in fact, most of us forgot he was there. We let the common thread that unites us, become the daily dread that grinds us down to the dust we were made from. It’s ironic how we spend the days of our youth learning how to be adults, but now we are adults spending our days unlearning everything so we can become kids again.

But hope didn’t hide. I feel a gentle breeze moving through me. The wind carries a sound, a voice actually, (you can hear it too if you’re quiet for a moment). I feel the weight of Your whisper, as it calls out to us. “You are known to Me. I am giving you a new name.” Receiving this gift, coaxes the child we once were out from his hiding place. Then we remember. Our energy begins to return and the sun peeks through the clouds of our dulled minds. Imagination fills our heads and we desire more than what we’ve seen. We realize we weren’t created to accomplish anything. Someone already did that. We were made to run in open spaces, with the freedom that comes with our new name.

Now we just get to be a kid. That’s all we have to be. We’ll be living a life that will attract the attention of other kids. They will want to get in on the fun and we have the pleasure of opening their minds. Pouring in some Living Water, they too will blossom and bear fruit, just like us. Soon, the fields we run in will have hills filled with flowers. What used to be a slave’s graveyard has become a vibrant forest where you and I can taste the sweetness of Life. The once diseased trees are blooming with fruit we’ve never seen before. Each bite splashes juice that runs down our chin, as we sink our teeth into this new found nourishment. The river won’t be polluted with the chemicals that once tainted our thoughts. No, the water is pure. We can drink straight from the source. We laugh as we climb trees and sing a new song, telling stories of our discoveries. Best of all, it won’t be a waste of time, nor will it have to end. This isn’t folly, it’s what we were made for.

Ever wonder why kid stuff is always brightly colored?

Whimsical as it is, we don’t live on a whim. Our roots go down deep and we are strikingly similar to our Father, whose will becomes our own. That’s where our joyful purpose is held. Our faith isn’t complicated, with the trusting “yes” of a child we are obedient, yet completely free. Fun as it all is though, our thoughts wander to our brothers and sisters in distress. The ones who make camp in a vast wasteland, having nothing to eat. The unfortunate, who have had their innocence stolen, smiles torn from their faces and replaced with lips taut with sorrow. What about them? They thirst and cry out with withered voices and dried throats.

Alas, there is a way. The cure doesn’t come in a bottle, but a spring flowing endlessly for all to drink. This is something no man can take away. Like an oasis in the desert, these people will awaken as children and live in a forest of their own. It may look different from ours. Their trees might have scars, but the fruit will taste all the sweeter. They will savor this new life because of their suffering. Forgiveness takes back what was stripped away and completion draws them home. Hand in hand, we shall always possess the Life unifying us under our new name. Woven into us is the simple life of a child, the common thread.

“…Live clean, innocent lives as children of God, shining like bright lights in a world full of crooked and perverse people.” – Philippians 2:15