The Timeless One

(I'm currently taking a writers class at school. One of the assignments was to write 200-400 words about the way we encounter God and connect with Him. I wrote a little poetic piece about how I meet with God in peaceful rest.) 

In the soft whispers of silence I hear my strong Savior speak. It's in the hidden corners of a world full of whirlwinds that I meet with the Prince of Peace. The Timeless One is never in a rush. 

He holds me tight as I unwind in His everlasting embrace. He trades pressure for peace, fear for freedom and hurry for hope. I linger at His feet as time seems to stand still. I dive into the depths of His gaze and let His furious love drown me. 

Only melodies of music surround me and only my pen can find the paper. Words form worlds when my eyes find the face of my Maker. I sketch the outlines of His countenance and allow the limited vocabulary of my heart to describe this Relentless Lover. The form of His faithfulness and the shape of His steadfastness paints the rest of my day. 

His loving affection pours over me like a powerful waterfall that I can barely stand. How can I ever receive a love so limitless? 

But I lean into His arms to hear His words in my ear. "And if you can't grasp it today, I will still be here tomorrow."

In rest I am found, in peace I will remain. 

Travel journal: Nicaragua day 1

Travel journal: Friday - day 1 of the Bethel Missiontrip to Nicaragua 

I lay my hands on the school seats and pray that there will come world changers, revivalist and leaders of this nation out of these chairs. Positive statements in Spanish, drawings and learning tools are displayed on the colorful walls of the classroom. The bright colors of the paint reflect the hope this ‘lighthouse’ brings. Miriam, wife of pastor Ramon, just showed us around in the school, daycare and church. Normally, these rooms are filled with many children from the neighborhood and the trash dumps, who enjoy the care, education and protection of the ministry. But now it’s Spring break, so the rooms are only filled with 14 Bethel-students who are walking around and releasing blessing. The power of intercession is bigger than we can ever imagination, so it feels like a huge privilege to be able to pray for this place. I walk around the rooms as I pray and observe. Stocks of colorful, little chairs remind me that we were just told that in a room, that’s smaller than my bedroom, they take care of 31 toddlers. We can only imagine what that must look like after the weekend, when school starts again.

The sun shines bright in my eyes and the wind takes my hair when I step outside. I look up to the sky and declare that the glory of God will shine on this place as the sun is beaming down on it, and the Holy Spirit will  move as the wind blows through the palm trees. As I walk by the kitchen and pray for more than enough food for all the kids, the words of Miriam resound through my memory. “God provide for my heroes”. She told us about her teachers, who are her heroes. They can’t pay them  as much as they would want to pay them, because the kids go to school and daycare for free. It’s inspiring to hear how the pastor’s couple are living in trust and dependency of the donations of Gods people for Gods people. I pray for provision for her heroes, the teachers, and I pray for provision for my new heroes: the pastor and his wife. 

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We’re taking a tour through Managua in the van. Through the car windows we see the environment change and become poorer and poorer, until we arrive at the dumps. Charity is surprised when she sees the streets full of colorful houses. “Wow, these weren’t here a couple of years ago!” Mario, our guide and translator, explains that Spain has supported the build of many houses for the people who lived in the dumps for more than 5 years. Where there once was nothing but dirt, dust and trash, are now cleaned out streets with small, cement houses in the colors of the rainbow. Of course everybody is excited to hear about the improvement of the living conditions of the people. But Mario also points out that these people are still in need, especially spiritually. “You can get the people out of the dumps, but you can’t get the dumps out of the people. They need a change in the way they think and therefor they need God in their lives.” We all agree, that’s the reason why we want to serve the pastor’s ministry in the trash dump  these weeks. Even though we’re driving through some extreme poverty, we are all convinced of the hope that there’s available for the country. “I love my country, I want to serve my people. My favorite part of Nicaragua is their hospitality and their social attitude,” tells Mario while we are driving past many colorful houses where families are sitting on their porch. Kids play in plastic pools to escape the tropical heat and older people are talking to neighbors. “I grew up and was raised in Managua. My favorite part is that everybody always meets outside. I would meet my friends on the corner. God has placed me here for a purpose.” The love for his nation and passion for his people is contagious. Yes, Nicaragua is a beautiful country full of potential.

©ElineMillenaar

Mission trip to Nicaragua

Colored with hope.

Green, yellow,  pink and orange. Balloons in all different colors and shapes are floating through the air, accompanied by soap bubbles and the sounds of many excited children. Some team members are painting the kid’s faces while others are carrying around little babies. We are at a daycare of El Faro, a church in Managua, Nicaragua. This is the church we serve these 10 days of our mission trip. The church has a daycare and school for children from the trash dumps and the surrounding neighborhood. Every morning we get to help them serve the kids breakfast and play with them afterwards. The future of this nations lays in the little hands of these children. It’s our honor to invest in them, because we realize that each of them has to full potential of becoming a world changer. 

The pastors of the church have already proven themselves to be world changers. Pastor Ramon and his wife Miriam lead the church El Faro, the school, the day care, the ‘sowing machine ministry’, the partnering churches in the dumps and the family of their 2 daughters and 5 adopted children. They live in genuine integrity and love in every area of their lives and the results are following their heart’s attitude. It’s just a small church, but their impact on the community is massive. They are God’s heroes, and became ours too.

Green, blue and orange. The houses beside the road are painted colorfully. We catch glimpses of the city as we drive out of Managua towards the trash dump Tipitapa. The colors of the city fade away quickly into shades of grey and brown of dirt and faded colors of poverty. We arrive at a little village looking out over a large piece of ground full of trash, dirt and burning tires. The houses of the village are made of material that’s probably coming out of the same trash dumps. The people here live and work here, they collect pieces of plastic for almost a week to sell it for less than 2 dollar. These are the circumstances that the newspapers would label as extreme poverty. We enter one of the houses and meet a family of three: Mario and Teresa and their son Domingo. We get to pray for the hernia of Mario, and his back pain completely leaves as we release the healing power of Jesus! We love on them, hug them, pray for them and prophecy life over them. After she dried her tears, Teresa proudly shows us around in her garden where she grows a couple of trees and plants for food. We are all just as excited as she is and are amazed by how well she stewards the little she has. We bless the ground and the plants to be supernatural fruitful before we continue our ‘freestyle treasure hunt’ in the trash dump. A couple of precious families, many prayers and a pair of healed knees later we are on our way back to the city again. As we drive through the village I no longer see the devastating, despairing state of the village anymore. I see many people who know the value of family better than we do. I see Gods precious children being hungry for more of Him and better living circumstances, but being trapped in the vicious circle of poverty and a poverty mentality. My heart breaks as I see that their living circumstances are way below what they should be for precious, royal sons and daughters of the King. But my heart rejoices together with Gods heart in who they are. They are not pitiful, hopeless, sad beings, they are people with great potential and who will run with whatever is given them. If success is measured in character and relationships instead of accomplishment, our Western world might be less successful then these people. Perhaps we should listen to them more and learn from them instead of labeling them as helpless without our help. I try to take off my Western glasses and look at them from a Kingdom perspective. All of a sudden I see this village in the dumps becoming green. Green is the color of hope, growth and fruitfulness. I see the ground of this village becoming fruitful and producing enough food for the families to sustain themselves. I see the ground of the heart of the people becoming soft and fruitful for the seed of the Spirit of God and creating an atmosphere of harmony, love and community. All of a sudden I’m overwhelmed by this sense of hope for this place. There’s more hidden gold in the dirt of the trash dumps than I expected to find.

Green, yellow and blue. Colorful little chairs are set up for the kids of the church. Their moms and dads and our team take their seats behind them. We are at the church in the village in the trash dump Tipitapa again, but this time for the Sunday morning service. Luckily the Presence of God is not dependent on whether you speak the language of the worship songs or not, so we dance, hum and worship with them as good as we can. One of our team members gets up to preach and afterwards our team calls out prophecies to different people in the church. Surprised looks on their faces, tears welling up in their eyes or big smiles shaping their mouths; their reactions to the words of God are beautiful. The same beautiful responses is seen on the faces of the church leaders when we meet with them after the service. We call out different words of knowledge and pray for healing for many of them. God the Healer touches their lives as back pain leaves at two people, peace comes over anxious hearts, a neck can be fully moved again, headache left and pain in the knee left and could be bended completely again. These miracles of healing are seen all through our trip, because the God Whom we read about in the Bible is still the same today. The leadership meeting of the church ‘El Faro’ ended in prophetic ministry and ministry in words of knowledge and healing. On Wednesday night we led a healing service and saw many miracles. Blind eyes opened, pain leaving and full movement and functioning of body parts again. All of that just by praying in the name of Jesus. In the last church service, our team didn’t pray alone for the sick. We asked the church members to pray with us, because it’s important that they experience that the healing power of Jesus also works through their hands and prayer. And yet again, many people got touched by Gods power and were healed! Every miracle is more than a testimony of Him being still alive and an expression of the light of His kingdom invading the darkness, it’s in His very nature to heal and show His love to His children!

Green and grey. The grey walls are steadily covered in green as we paint the classrooms of the school at El Faro. Some are scrubbing the floor, others are cleaning the chairs and another part of our team is repairing the roof of Carolina. Carolina is feeding many children from the trash dumps every day in collaboration with El Faro, but her own house is about to collapse because of the bad condition of her roof. Our whole team came to Nicaragua to bring revival and minister in love. Bringing revival looks like praying and prophesying over people, but it also looks like serving practically in love and honor. Ministry is nothing more and nothing less than love. Love looks like something and has many forms to express herself. As sweat and dirt are covering our skin, the revelation that we are being the (working) hands and feet of God is covering our hearts. We want to build the Kingdom and leave something tangible behind in the spiritual atmosphere and in the physical environment.

Green, red, orange and purple. The market is filled with colorful products inviting us to buy souvenirs or just enjoy the laid-back pace of our ‘fun-day’. We’ve seen the poverty of the country, as well as the beauty of her nature and culture. We find that beauty in a cup of iced coffee in Casa del Café, in the experience of a market inside an old castle and in the flavors of mango’s and coconuts that just fell of the trees. We find the beauty as we are floating on a boat past little islands in a lake with a volcano at the horizon and palm trees full of birds and monkeys besides the water. It feels like we’re floating through a National Geographic magazine. Our leaders don’t jam our time full with ministry and activity, but give us enough time to rest, bond as a team and enjoy this trip. And since is ministry not something you do, but an overflow of who you are, there are always plenty of ministry opportunities. The security guard of a coffee shop had no more pain in his knees after prayer and a single mom who was begging on the streets full of tourists in Grenada felt loved and seen as we prayed and prophesied over her. Ministry is not restricted to church services, it’s a lifestyle of love!

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple. All the colors of the rainbow are displayed in the rich culture of Nicaragua. Some were bright and shining, some were faded away in the dimming darkness of poverty. But from all the colors we’ve experienced this mission trip, we will always remember how one color forever painted the inside of our hearts towards nations, places and people. Green, the color of hope.

©Eline Millenaar – April 10, 2013

The value of beauty

The lovely Danae asked me to be her guest blogger for one time and write something about the power of beauty. So I did... and you can find the result here:

Click on this link for my piece about 'the value of beauty'

 “Beauty is an aspect of Gods glory which attracts the soul and rises up a desire to respond to it.”

The importance of love

Please let me remind you of what I've been reminded of over and over again: the importance of love. 

Listen with me, I can hear the heart cries around me and within me: LOVE ME FOR WHO I AM. 

In this culture of extreme annointing it's easy to love someone for what they do, what they have, what they carry or what they can give. In this culture of willingness to help, it's easy to love someone for what they need. In this culture of fast changes, it's easy to love someone for who they were. In this prophetic culture, it's easy to love someone for who they will be. But the truth is, you will not love someone when they are who they will be unless you love them for who they are right now, because the person they will be is already in the person they are now. 

It's easy to love people for what they do, what they have, what they give, what they need, who they were and who they will be. It's a life task to love people for who they are. 

If your life is a pen and you're writing a message on every heart you encounter, the most powerful words you can engrave in their hearts is: "I love you for who you are and I want you to know the One whose nature is Love." 

When my time here on earth is done and I go to my beautiful King (how I love Him!), there's only one thing I want to hear from His mouth and read in His eyes. I don't care how powerful my ministry has been, how many churches have been awakened by my preachings and books, how many bodies and hearts have been healed through my prayers and not even how many people have said 'yes' to Jesus in my lifetime. I only care about one thing and that's hearing Him say: "She knew how to love people for who they are, because she saw Me in every single one of them." 

No matter what I say, what I believe and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.

(1 Corinthians 13: 4, The Message). 

Tears are diamonds

Tears are diamonds

“Autch!” I quickly withdraw my hands as the hot stove leaves a mark on them. As cold water tries to cool down the burning, I wonder about how my fingers would look if my natural response to pain wouldn’t be to withdraw. Luckily my body reacts faster than my conscious mind does in those situations. I’ve learned my lesson, oven gloves are not just a nice accessory, but rather really necessary. Pain has taught me well.

Just as your body, your heart’s response to pain is withdrawal. When you are hurt by someone, your first reaction is to withdraw. Pain cries out for protection and restoration and it won’t stop crying until it’s satisfied. You can put it in a locked, soundproof room of your heart, but that won’t make Pain stop crying, you just won’t hear it anymore. It’s cry for protection will make you shut yourself off. Pain never wants to be repeated, no matter the cost. But what pain doesn’t make you realize is that when you respond out of hurt, the only result is more pain. By protecting yourself you miss out on the most important things you need for restoration.

To some degree, we all are afraid of pain. Some people already start crying when someone steps on their toe, while others only say “that’s unfortunate!” when a nail pierces their two fingers. But even you have such a high pain tolerance as the man in the last situation (it’s a true story), you will always try to prevent pain. Pain’s purpose is to become more careful so it can be prevented. Next time I’ll take lasagna out of the oven, I will first make sure I’m wearing my oven gloves! The more afraid you are for pain, the more careful you’re living in order to prevent it.

Pain has a very clear message and the difficult thing is that the message is true. You need to be protected and sometimes you need to be careful because the pain is an indication for real danger. But the message pain gives is not the full truth, it’s influenced by fear. Especially when pain is locked up in the soundproof room, it screams louder and louder in order to be heard, until the point that it’s message is taken into extremes. Unprocessed pain can destroy your heart once it breaks loose and the fear for more pain can wreck your life. Pain itself is not wrong, but the way we deal with it is the problem.

Pain is not bad, we’ve attached way more fear to it than necessary. We have become afraid to let people come close to us, because of the fear of being hurt (again). But only when you let people come close enough to hurt you, they are close enough to love you. I smile when a stranger says I’m beautiful, but after 10 minutes I already forgot about it. But if my best friend or my mentor points out an aspect of my identity which is admirable,  I feel truly loved. The love of the ones who are closer to you is more valuable than the love of the ones who are at a distance. That’s why you can only receive love to the extend you’ve allowed people to come close you. That’s also why you are always hurt the most by the ones you love the most. They know your weaknesses, most vulnerable parts,  insecurities and secrets. Just touching one of your wounds can be more hurtful than a stab of a knife at a healthy spot. Every time you share you heart, you’re taking a risk. You’re giving people an opportunity to hurt your inner core, but you’re also giving them an opportunity to get to know you better. To know you is to love you, so the more people know you, the more they love you.

God once told me: “You are fighting the arms that are meant to hold you.” As I started thinking about this, I saw what He meant. For years I’ve been trying to be as independent and self-sufficient as possible, until I found out this year that those were not virtues but hindrances for growth. I started to learn to express my needs and let others help me. In that process I felt incredibly vulnerable. It was scary to see how much closer people could come. Luckily I’m in a very safe environment, surrounded by people who want the best for me. But I wasn’t used to having people come so close, so I found myself withdrawing from those relationships or fighting their attempts to help me. I was so afraid of pain, that I tried to protect myself while I actually was withholding myself from the things I needed the most: love, support, understanding and protection.

Even with God this is true. We are afraid to let Him come too close, because His love opens up the doors of our heart, especially the locked ones with screaming pain behind them. But He will always give us the love and the strength to be able to process the pain. I’ve had some pretty tough weeks this month because of this very reason, but I can truly say it’s all worth it. Because of some emotional healing,  I now experience deeper levels of love for God, from God, from people and for people. I could have shut off and stopped the processes that we were working through, because it was too painful. But I learned to hold on the hands with holes who were healing the holes in my heart. I discovered that the most valuable treasures are often found in dark corners of fear and in deep rivers of tears. You can’t heal the wounds you don’t know you have and you can’t receive the things you don’t know you need. Discovering your wounds and needs can be extremely painful, but it’s the only way to healing and full wholeness.

So take the risk. Accept Daddy God’s love. Let people come close. Process the pain. Let them love you. Listen to your pain, but let Love’s message be the only one that remains. Let love come, even if the measure of love is bigger than the measure of what you think are worth. Go deep. Share your heart. Feel. Cry. Live.

 Because tears caught in the light of the Sun are always transformed into diamonds. 

Personal Papa

Papa is personal 

“Daddy’s home!” Screams and laughter immediately fills the hallway while 5 kids are running down the stairs, and jumping into Daddy’s arms. “Hey kids, I missed you! Hi precious-Paige, hi princess-Sarah, hi energy-bomb-Tom, hi strong-Stephen and hello butterfly-Bella!” Daddy gives every kid a hug while he calls them by name. “It’s date night tonight!” His voice hasn’t left his mouth fully yet before all the excited voices of the kids join him in a loud cheer.

Every time Daddy would take one of his kids out on a ‘Daddy-date’. What that looked like is different for every one of them. While he spend hours talking with Paige in her favorite coffee shop, he wouldn't dare to take Tom anywhere with four walls. No, energy-bomb-Tom and he would go to a playground and chase each other while gliding off the slides. His daughter Bella loves to be active too, but she rather takes her Dad to her ballet class and show him all the new dance moves she has learned that week. And they would wait until everybody left the dance room after class so Bella and her Dad could dance around the room. They would dance until the music stopped and the lights were turned off and Bella was feeling dizzy because her father swirled her around for so many times. Stephen would often laugh at Bella when she told him what they had done on their Daddy-date, because that didn’t sound fun for him at all. He would much rather play games with his Dad, whether that would be chess or football. Dad would play just good enough to challenge Stephen, but of course he always lets him win. And last but not least, during the Daddy-date with Sarah they would never be just with the two of them. They always are always accompanied by crayons, pencils and paint in all the colors of the rainbow. The hands of Sarah and her Dad would always be filled with paintbrushes, scissors and glue sticks, until the papers on the table would not show any white anymore. And every painting little Sarah finished is shown to Daddy. Daddy would praise her creativity and welcome her new masterpiece with a lot of “Oh”’s and “Ah”’s. Daddy would take her painting and put it on the fridge, where the surface was completely filled with her creative expressions, Daddy’s trophies.

The best fathers are personal fathers, who see the unique identity of every child and speaks his or her own language. Good Dads don’t spend time with energetic boys in the same way he spends time with creative girls. The best Dad of the whole Universe is our Father God, and yet we think that every one of His children needs to spend time with Him in one and the same way. We drown ourselves into seas of words, commentaries, Bible verses and books, while our guitar is begging us to let the sounds be lifted up as a sacrifice of worship. We tie ourselves down to our chairs to have some ‘serious prayer time’, while our feet are restless and can’t wait to take us somewhere beautiful. We lock ourselves in our closet to be able to hear Gods voice and see His face, while the images that keep coming into our mind are not allowed to be released onto the canvas in the corner of the room. Religion taught us well. 

We’ve learned that the only way to succeed as a Christian is when we are at least reading 3 chapters of the Bible, spending hours praying on our knees while a blindfold forces our eyes to remain closed and the only movement accepted is the heart moved in compassion. And then we wonder why the colors of both the interior of our churches and the hairs of our members becomes more and more gray. The (young) people don’t find the freedom to express their unique selves in Christianity anymore, so keep searching for something else.

Do we really think that our Daddy God is going to be mad at us when we instead of saying prayers that we’ve heard from others in Church, express the deepest melodies of our heart in the sounds of a singing voice or vibration of a guitar string? Do we really think that Daddy God is disappointed in us when we’re not able to spend hours in the silence of a prayer chapel, but rather drive around in our car while loud music in blasting out of our speakers, while we hear Him speak through the lyrics? Do we really think that we are less spiritual when we are not digesting 10 chapters of the rules written in Leviticus, but rather take one verse and chew on it over and over again, until we can actually taste the life-changing flavor of love? Do you really think that God is pointing His condemning finger to the mother of three small children, because she is always singing songs of thanksgiving while she’s doing the dishes, but she doesn’t have the time to lock herself in the prayer closet? Who taught us that the Father -who invented fatherhood and intended relationships to be the most perfect reflection of His character- is actually a worse Dad than the ones we see on earth? He created us in the most complicated, unique shape that can only be defined by the word ‘masterpiece’. Do we really think that He made us in that shape, so it would become difficult and painful when we’re pushed through the hole of the status quo, so we can become insecure when we don’t fit into the ‘one size fits all’?

No, our Daddy God is a personal Father. Many rules of Christianity are never given by God Himself, but created by a fearful force called ‘religion’. Father God celebrates our uniqueness and doesn’t only love us, He also likes us! Yes, the only way to  develop a relationship with someone you love is by spending time with that person. Spending time with God and developing a friendship with Him should be our number one priority in our hearts and agendas, because out of that friendship flows every good thing in life. All the desires of our heart – love, acceptance, confidence, revelation of identity, a sense of purpose, safety and restoration – are found in Him. But He is a personal God and we are unique children, so that relationship looks different for everybody else.

For me, that relationship looks like spending a few undisturbed hours every morning with my King. I love being in the prayer chapel for the whole day, just surrounded by silence and peace. My time with God is for 90% just laying down with music in my ears. I talk to Him about everything I’m going through, I listen to what He wants to say, I see things in my mind He wants to show me and I often find myself having deep conversations with Wisdom. I love diving in the Word and seeing the prophetic meaning of old stories or discovering the depths of the words in the verses, but I find it really difficult to read more than two chapters in one time. Does this make me the perfect example of a Christian? No! Does this mean everybody has to spend hours and hours in the ‘secret place’ in order to be ‘holy enough’? No! My calling is knowing Gods heart and translating the message of His heartbeat. The only way I can do that is by taking a lot of time to listen to what He wants to say, without being distracted. This is my way of connecting to God, but it’s not the only way.

Listen to what I’m NOT saying. I’m not saying that we should stop reading our Bibles, we should never pray anymore and let our alone-time with God be completely wiped away from schedules. I really do believe that everybody should have some time in completely silence, eat the bread of the Word and make our request and thanksgiving known to God! But how that looks like… that’s up to you and Daddy God. Don’t confine yourself by rules and restrictions God never intended to exist. Whether your Daddy-date looks like running 8 miles around town (I already get exhausted just by the idea!), or like splashing the rainbow on a canvas, or like sitting in a corner of a coffee shop journaling until you see Gods words interact with your written words: Daddy enjoys it when you are enjoying your time with Him! He’s too great to be put in a box and great enough to let Himself be caught by your uniqueness.

And even though our quality time with our Father is so important, if that one one-on-One meeting is the only moment we’re being around Him, we’re not developing close friendship, but a long distance relationship. Imagine how close you would be to your father if you would only see him once a week on your ‘daddy-date’, while the rest of the days you won’t even say hi to him. God is not only a Father of the Daddy-dates, but also a Father who longs to walk with us in daily life. In that way He can catch us when we’re falling, laugh with us when we’re having fun, speak through the mouths of people around us and constantly show His love in a thousand little gifts all through the day. How walking with the Father looks like is different for everybody again. Isn’t it a beautiful adventure that we can discover our own, personal way of connecting to the Creator of the Universe on the most unique way?

Let the Church shine in beautiful diversity again, so she becomes attractive to all the ones who don’t want to be contained by the walls of religion. 

©ElineMillenaar

The blessing of a burden

The blessing of a burden

Sometimes wisdom doesn't need extravagant words in poetic lines. Sometimes it doesn’t need the illustrations of examples or the colors of creative writing.
Sometimes wisdom is beautiful enough to be its own masterpiece.
 So let me share with you one of the eye-openers I received while staring in the eyes of Wisdom.

Every blessing has a burden and every burden has a blessing.
Every revelation has a responsibility and every responsibility has a revelation.

Let me unpack this gift of two sentences for you. Every blessing has a burden, because every blessing needs to be stewarded, used for the right purpose and protected in order to keep it. We often long for the blessings, but are not willing or able to take up the burdens. We often received blessings, but neglected the attached burdens by not using it as it was meant to be. A lot of blessings give us the ability to help others, so with an increase of blessing we also experience an increase of the demand for help. Add to that the responsibility of stewarding a blessing. Stewarding a blessing can look like being thankful for it, protecting it, treasuring it, sharing it or recording it. Are we willing to bear the burden of a blessing?

Every burden has a blessing, because the burden releases the blessing attached to it. Most people are not willing to carry any burden of people because they fail to see the blessing that’s attached to it. For example, intercession is a way of carrying someone’s burden, because you pray for a problem that’s not directly affecting you. The breakthroughs of the people we prayed for, are also written down on our account as our ‘fruit’ or ‘harvest’, as we call it in beautiful Christianees. When we would really realize this, we would be more willing to bear burdens. I don’t say that the reward should be your first motive, because there’s just something beautiful in sharing a burden with someone, because you look like the One who took the whole world on His shoulders only for the sake of Love. But I do say that there’s a reward of carrying burdens together with people. 

In the Christmas break, God put on my heart to pray for the students of my school that they won’t sit down and take ‘a break from God’ while they were at home, but would keep running after more of Him. While I was praying for this, He showed me that every student who gets up and started running again because of my prayer, will give me personally extra speed and strength to run even harder in my own life. This is just an example of the blessing of bearing a burden. Another one could be in the area of finances. I always had a hard time asking people for money, especially because I’m used to taking care of myself. But since I’m dependent on the donations of people for my mission trip, I learned that I’m robbing others from their opportunity of being blessed by not asking to carry my financial burden with them. Read that sentence again. You rob people of their opportunity of sharing in your blessing by not asking them for help in bearing your burden. I’ve been amazingly privileged with this chance of going to Nicaragua to love on the poorest of the poor. This trip will have a harvest that many others would love to see in their own lives, but they don’t have a chance to go. But like Bill Johnson says: “If you can’t go, send”. By giving people the chance of sending me, I let them be a part of my trip and it will make the harvest of my trip also a harvest of their lives! This new perspective on giving has both stirred up a humility to ask for help and a generosity to give in my heart, both two things that I was rather unfamiliar with before.

I can’t write about burdens without quoting Wisdom Himself: “My burden is light and my yoke is easy.” Burdens given by God are never heavier than we can carry. Yokes were always carried by two oxen, and the strongest ox carried the heaviest part. That’s why Jesus’ burden is light, because He’s carrying it with us and is actually carrying the heaviest part. It’s a privilege to share His burden, because it gives us direction on our path and a deeper level of friendship as we work together. The only burden we are meant to carry with Him is the burden of love. Let’s never refuse a blessing because we’re afraid of the burden, because every burden comes with the blessing of an increase in strength to develop the ability to carry it.

Every revelation has a responsibility, because being aware of something makes you accountable for your response. If you are walking over a bridge and there’s someone almost drowning underneath it, are you responsible for it? That depends on whether or not you’ve seen or heard the person drown. If not, than it was not your responsibility, because the problem was not revealed to you. But if you did hear that person cry out for help and you chose to ignore it, you are responsible for the cause. It’s the same with spiritual revelations. If you have a revelation that something is wrong and you still do it, you’re responsible for it. When you did the exact same thing before you knew it was wrong, it was not your fault, but a consequence of lack of knowledge of truth. There for, knowledge is somewhat dangerous and wisdom somewhat demanding, because you’re responsible to act according to what you know and experienced. But both knowledge and wisdom are priceless treasures whose value goes far beyond the price that is paid for it. In every revelation lays the wisdom in how to deal with the responsibility.

Every responsibility has a revelation, because when you choose to make yourself responsible for something, you position yourself to be given the revelations you need in order to take care of your responsibility. The same principle as the burdens and the blessings applies here. The President of the United States gets insight into the most important cases of the country and meets with the most influential leaders all around the world, because he embraced his responsibility to take care of America. Doors are opened to the people who are taking the risk to enter the hallway of responsibility.

Burdens and blessings, responsibilities and revelations. I’m absolutely not trying to communicate that you should never ask for a blessing or revelation anymore, because of the burdens and responsibilities that are attached to it. Just like I said, any blessing always outweighs the attached burden. I want to help you receive those blessings and revelations, because I’ve seen in both my life and in the lives of people around me two big hindrances for receive blessings. The first is a lack of knowledge about the preparations and stewardship that are asked of you when receiving a blessing. The second is a fear of bearing any burden, which hinders a lot of blessings to come. 

Let me end with the truth that is more true than anything that I just wrote: blessings and revelations are gifts of a good Daddy God, which can’t be earned, but are given in grace. There’s no striving into blessing. A teachable spirit always keeps learning and a childlike heart always keeps receiving.

©ElineMillenaar

Poems and tears

Words are the way my inside gets outside. And if, only for a moment, my inside contains a lot of water, a night of processing emotions turns into a couple of pages full of poems and tears. :) 

"“When does this stop?!
End this endless flow,
these waves of emotions!”

She screamed silently
while she floated
up and
        down.

But then she realized
she was addicted to the water."

--

"Even though,
the bright white
hurts my eyes

And more,
the mysterious black
scares my heart

Rather this,
then any shade of grey."

--

"I stare outside
my church window
and wonder what the
world would look like
if we truly believed
the word
was never meant to live
only inside the word.

Even its letters
scream to break out
into the reader’s life."

--

"I think there’s a good reason
that my left hand
doesn't fit into my right.

Even they understand
I need others too."

--

"I know you promised to always be my tree,
but if I come as a whirlwind,
would you still be able to handle me?"

--

"A blank paper,
waiting to be breathed upon,
proves to me
the beauty of nothing.
So empty of anything,
yet so full of everything."

-- 

"I’m too much in love with
depths
to be ever afraid of
heights." 

©ElineMillenaar

Dust

"Stains and scratches only carry stories for the ones who made them."
"The past and the present must reunite to let the future happen."
"The off-key sounds seems to harmonize with the brokenness inside." 
"Dust always returns to dust. Drowning is my only chance to live again." 

Some sentences from my prophetic, poetic story called "Dust". 
I presented it for my Creativity Track for school, this is my personal project for the writers group and my first fictional story in English. It's about someone who returns to an old, abandoned house and the description of the rooms are symbolic for the process of the main character. The house is a symbol of the heart, but the rest of the interpretation is up to you! See this link for the story: 
http://issuu.com/missglowinthedark/docs/dust?mode=window or click on the magazine to read it in fullscreen.

How I love to paint with words :)

Oh and while I wrote it I listened to these songs, because beautiful music with poetic lyrics is just the best to get your inspiration from! 

Cinematic Orchestra - to build a home

Cinematic Orchestra - arrival of the birds

Cinematic Orchestra - exodus  

Beautiful mess

“I’m a mess, I’m a mess, I’m a mess right now,

Don’t fix me up, just lay me down,

You fill me up to pour me out,

I am undone.”

-Steffany Frizzell, spontaneous song

Think of all the masterpieces which wouldn’t exist if the artists weren’t allowed to make a mess. What a loss, right? Now think of all the spiritual, mental and emotional masterpieces that don’t exist because we don’t allow ourselves and others to make a mess. Isn’t that an even greater loss than the artistic masterpieces?

Sometimes we need a mess in order to create beauty. Sometimes we value order way too much, so we don’t let the process happen. But if we want to grow, we must allow things to come up to the surface. When things come up to the surface, it can become messy, because we aren’t used to having those deep things out in the open.

A couple of weeks ago I was in one of those very messy growing seasons. It was painful, it was confusing and it sure was chaotic. A growth-bomb exploded in the room of my heart. The floor was filled with pictures and photographs, showing experiences from the past and the present. The walls had splashes of paint, all the different colors of my emotion-pallet were dripping from the walls. Through the splashes of color there were written words and sentences. Some were lies and some were truths, some were carved into the walls and some were just written with a pencil, some were ending with an exclamation mark and some were ending in a point. Question marks as big as chairs were seated at the sides of the room, asking for answers to sit in them. Fears were shivering in some corners of shadow, holding on to insecurities to cover them. Every time I decided to leave the fast stream of daily life for a moment and entered the room in my heart, I was shocked by the mess.

My character, habits and nature screamed: “Clean it up! Create order in this chaos!” But somehow I could find beauty in this big, exploded mess. I fought against the urge to clean it up, the only thing I did was walk around often to observe the things that were happening in the big messy process of growth and learn from it. And every time I walked around the room, I opened a window to let the Wind in. I trusted the One who was standing right in the middle of the mess, He knew what He was doing and knew when it would be the time to clean it up. I believed it was not only going to be okay, it was also going to create something beautiful.

And it did. I learned more from the weeks my heart was in this messy process than in the weeks my heart was orderly. The mess was necessary for God to paint the masterpiece of my identity clearer, more beautiful and with brighter colors. Because I could let the Wind, the Holy Spirit, do what He wanted to do in this process, I was able to even enjoy the process before seeing the result. I often had to make the choice to not try to fix myself or let others fix me, but just allow myself to feel crappy for some moments (but not let my feelings take over completely!). I had to choose not to search for the easy answers to my questions, but be okay to not be sure about some things and not have my opinion as strong and secure as always. I had to choose to not pretend like the pains and fears weren’t there, but face them and work through them and their causes together with God. I had to choose not to let the process end before we actually worked through the depths of the problem. I let Go(d) and the mess turned into beauty in His timing.

I want to encourage you to have the courage to let a process last for as long as it takes and to not be afraid of messes. Let your roots grow deep, even if it hurts to grow through a hard layer in the ground. Allow messes, not only for yourself, but also for others. Sometimes people don’t want to get fixed, don’t want answers to their questions or a solution to their problems. Sometimes they just need a shoulder the cry on, a hug to tell them they’re loved, a listening silence which invites them to share their hearts and an acceptance of who they are, what they’re going through and what they feel. It’s okay if the answer to ‘how are you’ is not ‘good’, because you can rather be real than perfect. Allow yourself and others to be real by not expecting perfection. The most beautiful masterpieces come out of the most chaotic messes.

“Where no oxen are, the crib is clean: but much increase is by the strength of the ox.”
                - Proverbs 

First week in Redding, California

Rollercoaster

Last few days were a rollercoaster.

I stepped into this rollercoaster Monday morning. I hugged my lovely parents and brother for the last time, wiped the tears of my face and stepped into my rollercoaster cart. The first part of the rollercoaster was already crazy. In 25 hours we travelled 14000 kilometers in 3 flights. Dragging your heavy bags all over the place, waiting for hours, going through security 10 times, looking out of our plane window at the beautiful sunset and lights of the cities, interviews at Customs, running through San Francisco Airport to catch your last flight (which we almost missed because our second flight had a delay): traveling is stressful, fun and exhausting.

So there we were. Sitting on bench at the very small airport of Redding. Three lonely roadtrippers with 6 bags around us and a guitar on Roos’ lap.. We’re singing songs like “So could you put your bag on the floor. Judie do your duty. We’re heading to Redding.” Just one look at my face would tell you that I’m exhausted and excited. Exhausted because I have hardly slept for the last 32 hours. Excited because we finally arrived in our new hometown. Adventure is in the air. We see a car coming, and there is Kaitie, our roommate. We share some hugs and we already know that we’re going to love her. When we had put all of our baggage in the car (except for my foot, which I stuck out of the car window. No joke.) we drove to our new home. And wow, it looked even more beautiful than on the pictures. Huge L-shaped couch, big kitchen, light sleeping room: we felt so lucky. After some getting-to-know-each-other-talks, we dived into our beds for our first night in this roller coaster called ‘The Bethel-adventure.’

The crazy rollercoaster went on the rest of the week. Waking up early, meeting lots of new people, learning the American culture and learning so many new things. Sometimes it feels like I’m walking in a movie, everything is so American! J We’re eating pizza, having movie nights, driving through Redding with loud music and open windows and we’re going to Starbucks, I think all the stereotypes I’ve had about America are true so far. Our apartment begins to feel like home and I love it that our neighbors and other people are just walking in and take a seat. Everybody is feels welcome, because everybody is welcome.

I haven't laughed so hard, danced so crazy, sang so loud, met so many new people and said I love you so many times in the last months as I did in this week. Everybody loves music, so we often end up singing and dancing and playing the guitar when we hang out with people. I love the quality time with my roommates and neighbors, I really want to discover their hearts and share mine.

We walked to our school Wednesday, it was a long, hot, but beautiful walk. We’ve met a lot of Bethel-students on our way, somehow people recognize each other as Bethel students. Partly because of the accents of the international students and partly because of the ‘Jesus-eyes’ and the joy on the faces of the people who go to Bethel. Redding is flooded with Bethel-people, it’s like having a huge family meeting in one town. Everybody is so nice and always willing to help or to give you a ride. No offence, but comparing to the people in Holland Americans are like angels.

Friday we went to the lake, it was so breathtaking beautiful. Normally I go on a holiday to see beautiful nature like this, but I live here now for 9 months! Forgetting my camera and art book was my biggest mistake of that day, there is so much beauty everywhere that I want to capture and absorb it. The rollercoaster slowed down for a second when I was reading Bill Johnson’s book on a rock in the sun, peaceful sounds around me and cool clear water of the lake before me.

Our first service at Bethel Church was at Friday night. I can’t believe this is our new home church now! Bethel Church is full of Spirit-filled people in a place where Gods presence is welcome anytime and anyhow, that just explodes in beautiful colors of love. That’s the only way I can explain it.

I also have some difficult moments, when I really have trouble to get used to all the new things. The rollercoaster doesn’t stop and isn’t slowing down. Sometimes the speed just dazzles me. Four days ago I was with my family, peacefully spending the weekend at home. Right now, I’m living on my own, in an apartment in Redding with 3 other girls in a country with different habits, language and culture. It’s so good, but so different. I love my roommates and they already feel like family. But sometimes I have to make sure that I’ll just be me, and I’ll stay close to myself.

I need some time alone to process all those new things, so I have the strength to hold on to the things that make me Eline. When I forget to take the time to capture moments and spend time with my God, I can easily forget who I am and what I love. Luckily I can lean on the strong shoulders of Wisdom. In this adventurous rollercoaster, Jesus is my Seatbelt and His words are my security. So when the rollercoaster is about to dive deep and I’m scared of falling out, I just focus on my Seatbelt. Because I know it will hold me in the right place, I don’t have to be scared, I can just be excited. And when I’m sure He won’t let me go and this rollercoaster is going the right way, I can throw my hands in the air and scream from the top of my longs “I AM ALIVE!” 

I can enjoy the ride with Him by my side.

Poetry, wanderlust and inspiration

Poetry


"I'm in love with cities I've never been and people I've never met.
I dream of art I've never created and words I've never written. 
I see worlds I've never explored and colors I've never discovered. 
I'm trapped inside this beautiful mind, yet freed outside this wonderful world"

©ElineMillenaar

The combination of wanderlust and inspiration filled my poetry book this week.

Wanderlust

 I was so busy with all those things I had to organize/achieve for my trip to the USA (in just 11 weeks from now!), I totally forget to have fun with the preparations! But after looking at this website http://travels.kilroyworld.nl/bestemmingen/noord-amerika/verenigde-staten/san-francisco and looking at all the amazing places and cities I'm going to explore when I'm in California, I had a massive attack of wanderlust. I just forget that my trip isn't only about getting from one place (home) to another (Redding), but also about the amazing trip through great cities I'm going to make!




Inspiration:

I also had a massive attack of inspiration after exploring this website:
http://www.evian-thesource.com/

I know it's actually meant as a commercial for Evian, but I love the website, it's full of art and awesomeness!
We should look at the world as a little child, full of wonder about every beautiful thing of this wonderful world! I am in love with beauty, and in awe of my beautiful Creator.

Awaken your sense of wonder! :)



Some of the AWESOME ART things I found on the website:

One:


Two:
Thought of you | evian The Source

Three:


Four:
Amazing photographers :
http://elenakalis.carbonmade.com/ (underwater photography!)
http://www.juliedewaroquier.com/ (poetic photography)

Five:



Six:

The American artist Tyree Callahan had the bright idea of turning an old typewriter into a "painting machine" by replacing each letter with a color! More than just a cool object, it provides a new way for the imagination to express itself through art.



Amazing awakening of amazement. :)

Jaarboek: schrijfsel

-Voor het jaarboek van onze VWO-klas moest ik een stukje schrijven over een normale schooldag. Zo gezegd, zo gedaan...-

Iedere ochtend word ik weer uit m’n slaapplek gesleurd. Ik word volgestopt met te zware boeken, te weinig pennen en een te drukke agenda. De boeken staan vol met cijfers en letters. De cijfers vormen jaartallen, formules, berekeningen of economische modellen. De letters vormen uitleg over de maatschappij, de geschiedenis of over de talen zelf. Met een smak wordt ik op de fiets gezet en rijden we over de bekende weg met het uitzicht dat we dagelijks zien. Het bordje “De Wilg” passeren we in het fietsenhok. Zo’n bordje is een erg leuke decoratie, maar natuurlijk weigeren wij Peppelaars ons plaatsje af te staan in het dichtstbijzijnde fietsenhok. Een bordje meer of minder verandert daar niets aan.

Daar is het weer. Dat snerpende geluid. Het geluid van verlossing, of het geluid van frustratie. Die schoolbel vertelt ons nu dat we (alweer) te laat zijn. De deur van het klaslokaal zien we aan het eind van de gang al dichtgaan. Met een zucht herinneren we ons de waarschuwing van mevrouw Plat, de spijbelvrouw, dat we nog maar één streepje verwijderd zijn van een vierkant rooster. We werpen een blik in het klaslokaal aan de andere kant van het raam. Daar zitten de klasgenootjes die wél op tijd hun bed uit zijn gerold. Onderuitgezakt proberen ze hun ogen open te houden en hun ochtendhumeur te beheersen, terwijl de leraar monotoon de verplichte dagopening opdreunt. Na 5 minuten mogen ook wij naar binnen en ik word neergesmeten naast de tafel. “Moggûh,” bromt de buurman tegen mijn eigenaar. Als ik word opengeritst om mijn inhoud op tafel te leggen, weet ik dat de schooldag weer is begonnen.

Iedere les is hetzelfde, maar toch weer anders. De lokalen verschillen, van het benauwde stinkhok van P17 tot de chaos van P90 in de kelder met al haar kunstwerken. De leraren verschillen, van onze lerares Nederlands die zo prachtig, levendig en met verschillende toonhoogtes het literaire boek voorleest (ja, dat was sarcastisch), tot de wiskundeleraren die meteen overgaan tot de orde van de dag.

 De lessen verschillen, van het “saai, maar toch weer overzichtelijke” geschiedenis, tot het maatschappijwetenschappen van “pak je boeken en ga zelf maar samenvatten.” Niet dat de verschillen tussen de lessen ons wat uitmaken, want we krijgen toch weinig mee van de passionele pogingen van de leraren om ons te interesseren voor iets wat uiterst oninteressant is. Zo zijn de bijna-ongelukken op de straat buiten en het werk van de glazenwasser een stuk boeiender dan de verhouding tussen onzichtbare moleculen. Het weekend wordt besproken, vakantieplannen worden gemaakt en mini-vergaderingen worden spontaan georganiseerd, totdat de leraar er met een brul of met een dreigement (of beide) er een eind aan maakt. Gelukkig maakt de schoolbel ook een einde aan zelfs de meest verschrikkelijke lessen, en schuifelen we dan voetje voor voetje de vrijheid der pauze tegemoet.

In de kantine barst allereerst de zoektocht naar  een stoel los. Brugklassers die mijn collega’s veel te hoog op hun rug dragen, hebben af en toe het lef om aan onze tafel te gaan zitten. Of nog erger, soms durven ze zelfs onze stoel te pakken als we even koffie gaan halen bij meneer Berger, alias Jan de Kantineman. Ze snappen nog niet helemaal dat het betekent dat de stoel bezet is als ik er op zit. In een krap kwartiertje weten we een normaal gesprek te voeren, boven alle radioherrie en schreeuwende tafelvoetballers uit, een broodje naar binnen te werken, koffie naar achter te slaan en nog de laatste dingen voor de volgende les te regelen. En nadat de schoolbel voor de tweede keer is gegaan, wordt ik met een zucht weer van de vieze grond afgetild, op de schouders gehesen en naar de volgende les gebracht.

Soms wordt die les vervangen door een tussenuur. Dat betekent vaak dat ik word neergezet in een zee van soortgenoten, vlak voor de deuren van de mediatheek. Mensen breken bijna hun nek over mij, maar verder is het een erg slimme maatregel geweest dat ik en mijn soortgenoten niet meer de mediatheek in mogen. Als mijn eigenaar z’n kopieertegoed weer heeft geplunderd voor een van de vele verslagen die we moeten inleveren, sjokken we verder. En als dan na vele uren verveling tijdens de nuttige lessen eindelijk het verlossende geluid van de schoolbel klinkt, weet ik dat mijn taak er voor vandaag bijna op zit.

6 jaar lang heb ik jou ter zijde gestaan. Ik stond (of: hing) altijd achter je en heb je nooit in de steek gelaten. 6 jaar lang heb ik jouw schoolboeken, agenda’s, rekenmachine, eten, troep en het belangrijkste: je telefoon, de lokalen in en uit gedragen. Nu zit mijn taak erop. Mijn laatste rustplaats zal aan het uiteinde van de vlaggenstok zijn, op 14 juni 2012. Als ik daar hang, zal ik aan iedereen tonen dat jij, ondanks alle ontberingen van de middelbare school, het toch overleefd hebt en geslaagd bent. En stiekem heb je zelfs ook nog een leuke tijd gehad. Gelukkig was deze tijd niet alleen gevuld met huiswerk, leraren, verveling en drukte, maar ook met gezelligheid, humor, leuke activiteiten en de kans om anderen en jezelf beter te leren kennen. Mijn laatste rustpunt is aan het uiteinde van de vlaggenstok, maar jij gaat verder. Met een diploma in je (rug)zak, wandel jij een geslaagde  bestemming tegemoet.

Door: Eline Millenaar

Poetry Book

"Dear Inspiration.
 I love you, I really do.
But why do you always have to visit me in the night?
Well, thank you for those 10 poems you just delivered me, but please, please, let me go to sleep now.
 I'll meet you in slumberland.
 Forever yours, El"
    - Status update Facebook

Mijn inspiratie komt altijd 's nachts. Zo heb ik in één uur rond middernacht bijna 10 gedichten/one-liners geschreven en nog 3 schetsen tot gedichten. Ik ben zo blij met m'n Poetry Book, mooie verzamelplek voor al deze gedichten. De meeste gedichten zijn te persoonlijk om openbaar te maken op m'n blog, maar als je nieuwsgierig bent mag je in real life misschien wel een kijkje nemen in m'n poetrybook. :)

Gedicht als cadeau

Een paar maanden geleden was een van m'n beste vriendinnen jarig.
Omdat ze zo'n bijzondere, inspirerende lady is en 18 jaar een speciale leeftijd is, heb ik een gedicht voor/over haar gemaakt als cadeautje.
Het beschrijft hoe zij in het leven staat, hoe zij haar leven niet meet in tijd, maar in kwaliteit.
Door haar ernstige ziekte een paar jaar geleden, heeft ze veel geleerd en ze inspireert nu de mensen om haar heen met haar levensstijl.
Ze geniet van iedere dag zonder al te ver vooruit te kijken.
Prachtig om te zien hoe ontzettend blij ze met het cadeautje was! :)




Tikkende Tijd

Tijd
Tijd tikt
Tijd tikt tikkend

De wijzers van de klok,
dragen werelden aan mensen,
hun levens bestaan uit
de schokkende bewegingen
van hun tikkende ondergrond

Rennend heen en weer,
maar de enige vooruitgang
is hun voortsnelling naar
het volgende cijfer
van hun tikkende ondergrond

Iedereen leeft op die wijzer,
behalve zij die wijzer zijn,
door die wijzer af te wijzen.

De sprong van die wijzer is
                                              diep

Maar de val wordt gebroken
door het breken van de bindende banden
van de bom der tijd

Opgevangen en gekust door ruimte,
Het kussen van de vrijheid is zoet,
Het kussen van de vrijheid is zacht.

De tikkende klok is van haar wand afgehaald,
               LEEF
staat er geschreven
in de ruimte van de leegte

En dat doet ze.

Leven op het ritme van de liefde,
zonder het tikken van de tijd. 

©ElineMillenaar

Profetic Poem

Lente schoonmaak

De wind tikt op het raam

Hij wil naar binnen

Kapotte kopjes knikken de knieën

Klinkende klokken vertikken de tijd

Stille stofjes stuiven op

Pakkende papieren staan plagend hun plaats af,

Rinkelend roest roetsjt  naar benee

Bonte bedden bibberen bang

Geschade schotels schudden heftig

nee

Maar zelfs de noordenwind

            is zo teder als het zuiden


 ©ElineMillenaar

PWW: On the edge of the unknown

This week I've made my own poetry book. I first searched for an ordinary notebook, but all the notebooks in the stores didn't match the image I had in my mind.
 So... I decided to make my own!
Just some cardboard, paper, fabric, leather, a needle and a thread and I had my own poetry book!
Love it!
It's called: on the edge of the unknown...





It's going to be filled with my own poems, one-liners and words, and poems, one-liners and words that inspire me. It's still unknown now, but not for long... :)

Kunstproject: Think out of the box!

Voor het vak "kunst" moest ik een eindopdracht maken met het thema VREEMD. Hieronder zie je de foto's van m'n project 'Think out of the box'. Ook zie je een video van mijn presentatie van het project met de uitleg van de creatie en het werkverslag 'Dmeerv.' over het onstaan en maken. :-) 

This is a creation which says a lot about me and my opinion!

De presentatie van het project in het Muzisch Centrum.

 En ja, ik weet het, ik kom op met m'n 'beroemde loopje'. Bloos. 

Dmeerv.

Vreemd. Vreemd. Vreemd.

Het woord spookt door m’n hoofd heen. Om me heen hoor ik het woord ook veelvuldig vallen, de ideeën ontspruiten overal om me heen. Blijkbaar zijn mijn klasgenoten in hetzelfde moeilijke, maar leuke proces van het brainstormen.

Ik besluit al snel om ‘vreemd’ als thema van mijn conceptuele kunstwerk te bombarderen. Vreemd.

Wat vind ik vreemd? Wat vind ik van vreemd? M’n gedachten vliegen net zo snel heen en weer als mijn potlood over het papier, het witte vel onder mijn handen verandert al snel in een uitgebreide mindmap. 

Hoe meer ik erover nadenk, hoe meer ik erachter kom dat ik vreemd eigenlijk vooral positief vind. VREEMD is het tegenovergestelde van NORMAAL. NORMAAL betekent voor mij ‘grijze muisjes’, met de stroom meekabbelen en je kleuren verstoppen achter een onopvallend masker.

Ik herinner me een stukje wat ik een aantal weken geleden geschreven heb:

“Op school heb ik soms zo het gevoel dat ik me aan moet passen, me in moet houden, zodat ik toch nog enigszins normaal lijk. Ik haat Normaal. Ik haat het om onnadenkend met de stroom mee te gaan, om een grijs muisje te zijn, om me aan te passen aan de massa. Ik haat het niet omdat zo speciaal ben of omdat ik zo veelkleurig ben. Ik haat Normaal omdat ik vind dat iedereen Normaal zo erg zou moeten haten, dat Normaal zich niet meer thuis voelt in deze wereld en vervangen wordt door Uniek. Want iedereen is zo uniek, ieder persoon heeft zoveel kleuren! Kleuren die nu nog veel te vaak verstopt worden achter een grijs masker, omdat iedereen wil lijken op Normaal en Normaal valt niet op.

Af en toe kom ik op een plaats met mensen die mij een glimp van een open hemel laten zien. Alsof ik door het gaatje van de plantenpot kijk en een klein stukje van de blauwe hemel vol onbeperkte mogelijkheden kan bewonderen. Soms ontmoet ik mensen die ook niet van Normaal houden, maar juist dikke vrienden zijn met Uniek. Zij geloven net als ik dat iedereen Uniek is en dat ieder persoon die je ontmoet een nieuw, uniek schepsel is met zijn/haar eigen kleuren. Dat soort vrienden van Uniek inspireren mij, inspireren mij om hun kleuren te ontdekken, om mijn kleuren te laten zien, om mijn kleuren te ontwikkelen en om mijn kleuren te gebruiken om andere mensen achter hun grijze masker weg te lokken.”

- Uit: Groeiende kleuren, 10 januari 2012, www.sks-eline.blogspot.com , ©ElineMillenaar

Mijn gedachten dwalen steeds verder af. Kunst is ook VREEMD. Kunst is VREEMD, want dat is wat een normale creatie van een kunstwerk onderscheidt. De grootste kunstenaars uit de geschiedenis zijn degene die anders durfden te zijn dan de ‘gevestigde (kunst)orde’. Die kunstenaars gaven Normaal op voor Nieuw, zelfs als ze door hun omgeving als Vreemd werden bestempeld. Zo begonnen de meeste kunststromingen, met kunstenaars die bereid waren tegen de stroom in te creëren. Vreemde kunstwerken, ze zijn er genoeg. Ik noem één symmetrisch woord van vier letters en men snapt welke vreemde kunststroming ik bedoel. Dada, bekend om zijn rare kunstwerken, die zo hard tegen NORMAAL aanschopte dat het bijna begon te wankelen. Nee, dada is niet mijn favoriete kunststroming, maar ik vind dat het moed vergt om met je omgedraaide pispot in een museum te gaan staan. Maar juist omdat dit zo ontzettend raar en bijna shockerend is, gaan mensen nadenken. Waarom vinden we het wel normaal dat een papiertje met wat kleurtjes met een lijst erom heen in een museum hangt, maar werpen we een verontwaardigde blik op een ‘ready made’? Waarom vinden wij iets mooi? Omdat we het gewend zijn of is dat een kwestie van smaak? Waarom vinden wij normaal wat wij normaal vinden en vreemd wat wij vreemd vinden? Dat is het effect wat vreemde kunstwerken teweeg kunnen brengen, mensen stellen zichzelf en elkaar onbewust vragen over dingen die ze eerder vanzelfsprekend noemden.

De bel rinkelt en haalt me uit mijn gedachtegang. Ik staar naar de mindmap voor me. Er staan al vele goede ideeen op, maar nog niet iets concreets waar ik nu mee aan de slag kan. Ik slaak een zucht, volgende week is er weer een nieuwe kans. Als ik op de fiets stap om naar huis te gaan krijg ik echter een waterval aan ideeen. Ik weet wat ik wil gaan maken! ‘Think out of the box’ is een veelgehoorde spreuk, maar wat als ik die spreuk nou eens heel letterlijk ga nemen?

De volgende les surf ik op de inspirerende golven van  het wereldwijde web. Plaatjes die deze spreuk uitbeelden blijken, na even zoeken, in overvloed te vinden. Na een uur sluit ik m’n mapje met een mindmap, een blad vol schetsen en een pagina met inspirerende plaatjes. Die geven mij nu voldoende stof om echt aan de slag te gaan. Ik duik in het magazijn, dit keer laat ik me niet overweldigen door de geweldige overvloed aan materialen, ik ben nu opzoek naar de verpakking waar deze creatieve voorraden inzitten. Na een tijdje zoeken heb ik mijn perfecte kartonnen doos gevonden. Van anderen krijgt deze doos een eenmalig ticket naar de vuilnisbelt, van mij wordt deze doos omgetoverd tot de trotse kern van mijn creatie. Een creatie die al bestaat in mijn hoofd en op papier nu realiteit gaat worden.

“Ik snap er niets van. Het ene moment stond ik nog te verstoffen op de planken van het gezellige magazijn en het andere moment werd ik opgepakt en geleegd door een raar meisje met rood haar. Ze keek me aan, ze keek me aan en ze keek me aan. Ik voelde me ongemakkelijk worden, wat zou ze met me gaan doen? De schrik sloeg me om het hart toen ik grote flessen met zwarte, witte en grijze vloeistof naast me zag staan. Het meisje met de rode haren pakte een aantal stokjes met wat haren aan de bovenkant en doopte ze in de vloeistof. Ze keek me weer aan en richtte haar stokjes op mij. Ik zag mijn leven aan me voorbij flitsen, het was zo’n  kort en kartonnen leven geweest, ik had nog zoveel dingen willen doen, nog zo veel dingen willen opbergen. Ik was er van overtuigd dat het mijn einde was toen de rare stokjes mijn blote huid raakte. Maar tot mijn verbazing voelde ik niet de doorborende pijn van de dood, maar de kietelende streken van de haartjes op het stokje. Ik zag mijn bruine huid langzaam witter worden, maar ik wist niet zeker of dat door de schrik kwam of door de vloeistof op de stokjes. Van wit naar grijs en van grijs naar zwart: er bleef geen plekje bruine huid meer over. Van binnen en van buiten werd ik bedekt door de vloeistof. Voorzichtig werd ik opgepakt en weer op m’n vertrouwde plek gezet. Terwijl ik voelde dat de vloeistof op m’n huid langzaam opdroogde, probeerde ik te bevatten waar ik nu weer in terecht was gekomen.

Veel tijd om na te denken had ik niet. Het meisje met de rode haren tilde me een paar dagen later al weer van mijn plek af. Ik had zo’n voorgevoel dat mijn leven voor eeuwig veranderd zou worden. En mijn voorgevoel kwam uit. Week na week werd ik onder handen genomen door het meisje met de rode haren, die blijkbaar mijn nieuwe eigenaar was geworden. Ik werd maar liefst zes keer verblind door een raar apparaat met een groot licht er boven op, terwijl allemaal rare mensen mij op hun hoofd zetten. Ik werd beplakt met de foto’s, plaatjes en letters, die ze van het “Internet” en van haar “camera” had gehaald. Geen idee wat dat betekent, maar ze leek er zelf erg blij mee te zijn.

Toen ik helemaal beplakt, gelijmd, beschreven en gekleurd was, gebeurde het. Nadat ik me weken nutteloos en leeg had gevoeld, werd ik weer gevuld met vreugde. Ik proefde weer even mijn oude leven toen er een dienblad vol plantjes in mij werd gezet. Deze plantjes waren eerst hetzelfde lot ondergaan als ik, ook zij waren gekleurd met de rare vloeistof op de rare stokjes. Hun neppe, groene blaadjes waren verandert in fluoriserende kleuren. Bloemen, veertjes, potjes en planten vulden mij en ik kwam weer tot leven.”

Ik ben blij met het eindresultaat, met behulp van de kartonnen doos is het idee in mijn hoofd tastbare realiteit geworden. De doos zelf heb ik zoveel mogelijk in zwart-wit-grijs-tinten gelaten, omdat de doos staat voor de ‘grijze-muisjes-mentaliteit’ of het ‘thinking inside the box’. De wanden van de doos heb ik dan ook beplakt met afbeeldingen die voor mij ‘normaal zijn’ betekenen. De spreuken en vragen die ik op de wanden heb geschreven zetten mensen hopelijk aan het denken, ik hoop dat zowel de letters als de afbeeldingen op de doos de mensen zal doen laten afvragen of ‘normaal’ echt wel ‘normaal’ moet zijn. De bloemen en planten die als het ware uit de doos groeien symboliseert onze benodigde groei uit de ‘doos der normaalheid’. Pas als wij verder durven denken en doen dan de gevestigde orde, kunnen wij onze unieke kleuren ontdekken, ontwikkelen en gebruiken. Pas als wij anders durven zijn, kunnen we groeien, bloeien en vrucht dragen! 

©ElineMillenaar