Loading Video . . . Artist Jason Jaspersen brings us this animated image in response to the theme of Eavesdropping and Ecclesiastes 7:21-22. Do not pay attention to every word people say, or you may hear your servant cursing you- for you know in your heart that many times you yourself have cursed others. Ecclesiastes 7:21-22 You Yourself By Jason Jaspersen Credits: Artist Location: Minnesota Curated by: Charis Carmichael Braun 2014 Mixed media, digital image Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link Technology connects us in amazing ways. The Spark and Echo project, for example, gathers people around the Bible and art in new and exciting ways. Skype gives grandparents an occasional fix while away from their little buddies. I can call my wife for clarification when I'm picking something up for her at the grocery store. Collaboration with colleagues and students has become easier with shared documents. However, like anything else in this world, a good thing can be wrecked. The wonderful connectivity that tech companies like to show off in their advertising has a dark side. Especially relevant to this project is the idea of digging around in private information-eavesdropping. Eavesdropping manifests itself in a variety of ways today. Hackers mining personal information, governments monitoring emails or phone calls, hidden webcams, flying camera drones, and gps tracking all use today's connectivity in intrusive ways. As the boundaries of personal privacy disintegrate and connective technology marches forward, I'm reminded of Jeff Goldblum's character in Jurassic Park. He said, "your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could that they didn't stop to think if they should." What happens when someone listens in on private conversations? In this artwork, a girl is shown holding a glass to a wall to hear better what is happening on the other side. She is not invited into the conversation, nor is her presence desired. Those are some of the factors that make her so intrigued. She listens intently. What's happening in there? The artwork is an animated still with color morphs and flashes to signify the main character's burning curiosity. God has some advice regarding eavesdropping. "Do not pay attention to every word people say, or you may hear your servant cursing you for you know in your heart that many times you yourself have cursed others." Ecclesiastes 7:21-22 NIV According to this verse, eavesdropping may lead to disheartening results. An honest self-examination will certainly implicate the listener. The message here is really that we're not that different and there's really nothing exciting to hear! You may become privy to some juicy gossip, but would it be any different if someone started digging into your life? Should anyone be surprised to find themselves insulted or threatened when digging into private matters? Thus the artwork here provides a visual reflection of the main character. In a twist of the senses she listens to her reflection. The conversation she strains to hear is really her own voice. Perhaps the reflection is another person listening to her, perhaps she only hears herself. And maybe today's prevalent voyeurism indicates a society of people trying to find their own identity. So what do we get out of this? Some things in this life aren't worth worrying about. Focus on how God has done good to you rather than on how others have wronged you. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Jason Jaspersen is a creative generalist working with a variety of visual media. His creative work honors both the weight of history and the thrill of the process. He's interested in exploring Christian themes with traditional physical media such as oil paint, printmaking, and sculpture but doesn't shy away from digital media such as motion graphics and animation. He often uses an expressive representational style to tell a story and highlight shared experiences. Jason lives, creates and teaches in his homey hometown of New Ulm, MN. Follow Jason's studio process and projects at jjjaspersen.com Website Jason Jaspersen About the Artist Jason Jaspersen Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . The haunting beauty in this song by Stephen Lyons carries with it the prophetic message found in Zechariah 2:8; 7:9; 8:1-2; 9:9. Read the lyrics to "City of Gold." Zechariah 7:9 Zechariah 8:1-2 Zechariah 9:9 Zechariah 2:8 City of Gold By Stephen Lyons Credits: Composed, Lyrics, Vox, Guitar by Stephen Lyons Curated by: Jonathon Roberts 2018 Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link The book of Zechariah is dense and complicated. In a series of Dreams God speaks to Zechariah revealing that He will return to Jerusalem if His people are Faithful to Him and his covenant. In Zechariah I was looking for the human connections. Jerusalem is in chaos, the exiles are waiting. We read about God’s “jealous” Love. Zechariah is having crazy dreams. What struck me in reading Zechariah and what began to emerge was this connection to the beginning—the Garden of Eden—and how much things have fallen apart. Then there is this verse: "Rejoice greatly O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Lo, your King Comes to you; triumphant and victorious is He, humble and riding on an ass, on a colt the foal of an ass." In Zechariah, God is asking us to rely on Him. God whispers: "show mercy, kindness, lift up the broken hearted, hold no enmity for your Brother." Will God find “kindness and mercy” in our Streets? Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Stephen Lyons is a Harlem-based musician/actor/songwriter. He performs with the band Bonfire Falls which released their debut album ‘ Lifetime ’ in 2016 and currently working on songs for a new EP. Stephen sang the theme song for a Nationally Syndicated Radio show heard by 8 million listeners, and was a semi-finalist for the Unsigned Only competition for his rendition of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" dedicated to his brother and parents. In 2007 he released his first solo album, ‘Fall’ which is available on Bandcamp . As a vocalist, Stephen has performed on rap artist Keon Torres' single, “We Are” and a new audiobook of poetry by LA based Musician/Writer, VK Lynne. As an actor, he has toured extensively working with such companies as Cape May Stage ( Last 5 Years ), Beginnings (reading with Katrina Lenk, Manhattan Theatre Club), The Orlando Shakespeare Theatre, Philadelphia Artists Collective, Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival, Delaware Theatre Company, Commonwealth Classic Theatre Company. TV and web credits include: The Onion News’ ‘Bomb New York’, Investigation Discovery’s ‘Deadliest Decade’, ‘Grave Mysteries’ (Brian Orr). Stephen worked in Leadership Development for 10 years and recently started his own consulting company, LionsHeart Leadership providing keynote concerts examining courage, creativity and connection. Stephen attended De Sales University where he received his BA in Theatre. Website Stephen Lyons About the Artist Stephen Lyons Other Works By Nicholas Zork Days Uncertain lyrics .pdf Download PDF • 38KB Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . His second work for Spark+Echo Arts, composer Aaron Kruziki created "Ezekiel's Bread" in response to Ezekiel 22:29 and the theme of "poverty." Ezekiel 22:29 Ezekiel's Bread By Aaron Kruziki Credits: Music & Lyrics by Aaron Kruziki Recorded & Mixed by Aaron Kruziki Artist Location: Astoria, Queens Curated by: Jonathon Roberts 2014 Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link “Ezekiel’s Bread” is a song composed in response to Bible passage Ezekiel 22:29- The people of the land have used oppression And exercised robbery And have vexed the poor and needy: Yea, they have oppressed the stranger wrongfully It is a passage that spoke to me because we are all people of the land and simultaneous strangers. We oppress ourselves and are then quick to oppress our neighbor, the stranger. I see it every day as I commute on the Q69 bus in Astoria, Queens. I am constantly reminded of this as the bus departs from my neighborhood and goes through others of different affluence. I hear, see and taste oppression as people flow on and off the bus. The oppression is layered as different strangers come on and off. This song is a trip on the Q69. The text and the lyrics are aligned as one. The song follows a 19 measure chord progression that is repeated again and again, building momentum each time the listener is brought to the top of the form. The lyrics are repeated again and again, as instrumentation is added. Sound is used from a daily commute aboard the Q69. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Born and bred in Wisconsin, Aaron Kruziki is a dynamic musician and composer, educator and producer. Currently employed by Steinway & Sons, as part of the Steinway Hall sales team, Manhattan, Aaron’s artistic output includes jazz, rock, pop, and the avant-garde. As a saxophonist and clarinetist, Aaron has received consecutive degrees in Jazz Studies from the New England Conservatory and Western Michigan University, studying with George Garzone and Trent Kynaston respectively. Aaron is a member of “Dapp Theory”, Andy Milne’s M-base ensemble, and is an active member of the Brooklyn and Queens DIY rock, pop and jazz scenes, performing at venues such as Rockwood Music Hall, Glasslands and The Blue Note. His voice moves fluidly from woodwinds to synths and vocoder, performing in genres ranging from synth-pop to world beat. In 2012 Aaron was commissioned by the Chelsea Music Festival to compose music based on John Cage’s “Lectures on Nothing” and is proud to be twice commissioned by “Spark and Echo Arts”. Website Aaron Kruziki About the Artist When We Lie Aaron Kruziki Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . So far this year, I’ve been looking at commitments. We are the ones who believe in something, strive to make something happen, commit to it, and yet we are also the ones who break those commitments. It’s a contradiction and wrestling we all face in some form or another. Exodus 28:1-5 Exodus 28:29-30 Proverbs 19:20-21 Isaiah 50:7 Hebrews 12:2 Romans 7:15 Artist in Residence 2015: Melissa Beck Part 3 By Melissa Beck Credits: Curated by: Spark+Echo Arts, Artist in Residence 2015 Installation, Film Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link September 14, 2015 So far this year, I’ve been looking at commitments. We are the ones who believe in something, strive to make something happen, commit to it, and yet we are also the ones who break those commitments. It’s a contradiction and wrestling we all face in some form or another. My projects so far, the Disposable Commitments stack of plates and the Flint and Lint glasses look at this in some way. Both seem to focus more on the failure and inadequacies of our nature, which doesn’t exactly leave us feeling great, but know that these are not finished yet. Sometimes the in between, waiting, and unfinished states are the most unclear and yet that is where most of the work is being done. It’s out of sight and beneath the surface. Right now I will say that this is where these two projects lie. In this post I’m giving a peek into a third project. You’ll notice in the clip that I have been working on this since January, hence the snowfall. It’s a video that looks at the subtleness of decisions. In the making and breaking of our commitments, we are essentially making a million little decisions. Often those decisions are so subtle we don’t even realize them until we find ourselves somewhere we never thought we’d be in life. Those decisions weave a thread through our lives everywhere we go, in the people and places we interact with, the work we do, the attitudes we have… Sometimes it’s a lot of pressure to decide if we should do this or live here or take this job or… Exodus 28:1-5 Have Aaron your brother brought to you from among the Israelites, along with his sons Nadab and Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar, so they may serve me as priests. Make sacred garments for your brother Aaron to give him dignity and honor. Tell all the skilled workers to whom I have given wisdom in such matters that they are to make garments for Aaron, for his consecration, so he may serve me as priest. These are the garments they are to make: a breastpiece, an ephod, a robe, a woven tunic, a turban and a sash. They are to make these sacred garments for your brother Aaron and his sons, so they may serve me as priests. Have them use gold, and blue, purple and scarlet yarn, and fine linen. Exodus 28:29-30 Whenever Aaron enters the Holy Place, he will bear the names of the sons of Israel over his heart on the breastpiece of decision as a continuing memorial before the Lord. Also put the Urim and the Thummim in the breastpiece, so they may be over Aaron’s heart whenever he enters the presence of the Lord. Thus Aaron will always bear the means of making decisions for the Israelites over his heart before the Lord. I read this passage in Exodus earlier this year and was struck by the idea of a decision maker. Aaron was called to be this for the Israelites. What a role. While the chapter hardly relates to our modern day life as it contains mostly detailed instructions on priestly garments, I found the idea of a decision maker to be most relevant knowing we each are our own decision maker and yet we often make better decisions when we don’t do it on our own. So I took pieces from the passage and blended these with our modern day life. I am filming in each season, one season for each of the four colored yarns that are used to make Aaron’s priestly garment. It’s still underway and I am still processing what it is all culminating to. Since it is reliant upon the seasons, I can’t speed up the process. I have to wait. This makes me think about how we often make our decisions expecting visible and immediate results. Yet in reality, our decisions are only the beginning. Any results take far more time to cultivate and then produce something. Often the result is not dependent upon us. So like you, I am watching, waiting, anticipating what these decisions and threads will weave and create. While it may not be as I want or plan, I know that whatever it is, it’s going to be good. Decision Threads (in progress) Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Melissa Beck ’s work explores elements of the everyday redefining the familiar in unexpected ways so as to reawaken our eyes to what is often overlooked. She is an emerging artist living and working in Brooklyn, NY. Melissa grew up in Los Angeles and San Diego. She achieved her MFA in sculpture at Pratt Institute and graduated in 2013. Her dream is to create large-scale public artwork and to become an art professor. When Melissa isn’t making art, life for her consists of freelance sewing and display work, nanny-ing, dancing, laughing with her friends, visiting the California sun and taking life one step at a time with her Creator. Website Melissa Beck About the Artist Artist in Residence 2015: Melissa Beck Part 1 Artist in Residence 2015: Melissa Beck Part 2 Artist in Residence 2015: Melissa Beck Part 4 Artist in Residence 2015: Melissa Beck Breadth Melissa Beck Other Works By View Melissa's first , second , fourth , and final posts to follow the development of her 2015 Artist in Residence project. Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . This rich short story by public historian and author Sara Makeba Daise provides for the reader a taste of Revelation 1:1-3. Revelation 1:1-3 Blessed Are We By Sara Makeba Daise Credits: Featured Image by English Purcell Curated by: Marlanda Dekine 2019 Historical Fiction Short Story Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link Before even choosing this text, I knew that I would like whatever illumination I offered to be grounded in Womanist theology. I choose to center Black women and the people who are most marginalized in all that I do. The short story I told is historical fiction, based on real-life events in my hometown of Beaufort, SC. Black and white people gathered on New Year’s day to hear the Emancipation Proclamation being read aloud. And when I thought about Revelations and the idea around this earth-shattering message from God, I wanted to imagine a message with that level of severity being offered in real life. I know many people think of the Bible as fiction. As a Public Historian, I know many people think of the history of American slavery as fiction. In both cases, the stories of Black queer people, trans people, non-binary people, cis women, disabled, and other marginalized folks are rarely centered. Rarely given reverence. So this was me re-imaging a story I’ve heard my parents tell countless times about free people on St. Helena Island. The idea that the message, and the messenger, and those who received the message were all blessed. And that this message would change the world. I wanted to push that further to say, if we were centering the voices of the most marginalized from the beginning, we’d all be all the more blessed. Jesus, as I have understood him, was a champion of the most marginalized. Sandy and Hurriya are fictional. But Black people being born free into an unfree world is not. I believe liberation is possible. I believe Heaven on Earth is possible. I believe that those who came before us are waiting for us to remember the Love and Light we come from. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection As a Cultural History Interpreter and Public Historian, Sara ’s work connects past, present, and future in accessible, healing, and liberating ways. Her research and praxis include Gullah Geechee women, Womanism, Black Feminism, Afrofuturism, queerness, sexual freedom, Black affirmations, and the power to imagine and manifest better worlds. Sara is a Program Assistant for The Charles Joyner Institute for Gullah Geechee & African Diaspora Studies at Coastal Carolina University. She was one of the 4 original Interpretive Aides at Mcleod Plantation Historic Site in Charleston, SC when it opened to the public in 2014. She is a living historian with the Slave Dwelling Project. She is also a Digital Archivist for Real Black Grandmothers, an online archive centering the stories of Black Grandmothers throughout the diaspora. A native of Beaufort, SC, She earned her B.A. in Communication with a minor in African American Studies from the College of Charleston, and she received her M.A. in Public History from Union Institute & University. Sara is one of the 2018 recipients of the Brian Webb Award for Outstanding MA Thesis in History & Culture. Website Sara Makeba Daise About the Artist Sara Makeba Daise Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art It was warm that day. Unreasonably warm for New Years in Beaufort, SC. Damp air blew in off the saltwater. View Full Written Work Blessed Are We by Sara Makeba Daise It was warm that day. Unreasonably warm for New Years in Beaufort, SC. Damp air blew in off the saltwater. The sweet, salty scent from the marsh filled everyone's noses. It was still early as they gathered. In hundreds. Black and white. Free and formerly enslaved. The spirits of The Ones who 'd been there centuries before were also present. Watching. Those alive and in their bodies gathered under that big oak tree on Smith Plantation. One woman, Sandy, wore her daughter Hurriya wrapped to her body in Mama Venus' old shawl as she walked deliberately toward the growing crowd. Venus hadn't been her real mama. Sandy's real mama had been sold when Sandy was just a lee gal. Ain nothin but 5 years old. Mama Venus had swept in, like the old folks do, bringing the young Sandy into her own cabin on Laurel Plantation, a cabin that she shared with her sister Osha, and three other kids. All girls. It was rare in some places. A cabin full of women-folk. But rare things often happened on St. Helena Island. The folks there expected the unexpected. Expected the rare. "What a day, Riri. What a day." Sandy murmured into Hurriya's ear. The two had arrived on foot, like most of the other Black people in attendance. Some had walked for miles from nearby plantations. Sandy and Riri, too, had made the walk from the plantation where Riri had been born. Hurriya was big enough to walk, but the closer they'd gotten to the growing crowd, Sandy had chosen to pick her up again. It wasn't fear she'd felt. But excitement. A stirring in her spirit. And affirmation. And she wanted to feel her baby's heartbeat close to her own. They gathered today to celebrate the proud Black US troops. And to hear that man Brisbane read them freedom words from Lincoln. William Henry Brisbane, a Baptist minister and former slave owner, had seen the sin rooted in his ways, sold all of his slaves and moved to Ohio. Becoming an avid abolitionist, he later returned to the South, repurchasing and freeing all but one of his former slaves. And it was he who was given the great honor of reading the Emancipation Proclamation to the people who built this nation with their bodies. "That on the first day of January, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held as slaves within any State or designated part of a State, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States, shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free; and the Executive Government of the United States, including the military and naval authority thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of such persons, and will do no act or acts to repress such persons, or any of them, in any efforts they may make for their actual freedom." Sandy and many others on the Sea Islands had been "free" for months. Since the day of the Big Gun Shoot. White masters had fled with their families, trying to escape the Union army. Sandy had almost been snatched up that day--her Master Long violently pleading that the women and girls in Mama Venus' cabin pack up and leave with them. "You ungrateful Black wenches!" Long yelled angrily. "This war don't mean nothin! Lincoln don't mean nothin! You still belong to me, and I said ‚'Get yerselves together and come on!'" Mama Venus had looked unbothered by his rage, and communicated silently to Sandy and the others that they were not to move. Sitting in front of the open fire in their cabin, Venus just kept stirring a large pot of something faint, staring into the flames as if she couldn't hear anything. Long had left shortly after. Venus hadn't threatened him. Hadn't acknowledged him at all. His own fear or a world he couldn't explain sent him and his family along with a caravan of other white plantation owners. Attempting to outrun the root of their lies. The costs of their delusions. Sandy, Venus, and thousands of others had BEEN free for months. Free when the Union came. Free when the masters left. Free when Union troops began raiding abandoned plantation communities for able-bodied Black men to fight in the war. Pillaging for women to service their wants and needs. Free when the abolitionists and missionaries brought education and contempt for their ancient ways of knowing. Free. But Lincoln had called them "contraband." Today that was different. Brisbane read: And I hereby enjoin upon the people so declared to be free to abstain from all violence, unless in necessary self-defence; and I recommend to them that, in all cases when allowed, they labor faithfully for reasonable wages. And I further declare and make known, that such persons of suitable condition, will be received into the armed service of the United States to garrison forts, positions, stations, and other places, and to man vessels of all sorts in said service. And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Constitution, upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind, and the gracious favor of Almighty God. The crowd at Smith Plantation had grown to the thousands. Black and white. The Sea Islanders, the formerly enslaved dressed in their finest wares. Aprons crisp and white. Brightly colored headwraps. Their Gullah language spoken quickly and with passion. Anyone from out of town who might've heard the Sea Islanders' creole, seen the ocean of shining, Black faces, might've wondered what part of Africa they'd stumbled upon. Sandy listened intently to the proclamation, sifting through its meaning. She waited to feel seen by those bringing this long, long-awaited message. Waited for the words to match some truth she knew. And then a young man's voice broke through the crowd, piercing through the excited chatter. "My country 'tis of thee..." There was a hush. And a murmur as the young man sang. As if encouraged by those unseen spirits, other newly free Sea Islanders joined in his song. "Sweet land of liberty..." Sun shown on her face, and the face of her baby as Sandy, too, added her voice to the thousands. The song felt like a long exhale. "Land where our fathers died." Sandy sang... Thinking of Venus. Thinking of her mama. Carved out her space in time as she sang. "Let freedom ring..." Even if only remembered by her daughter. Hurriyya. No longer slave. No longer contraband. Sandy and Hurriyya were free. Their people were free. Free. She wept. Shuddered as the eloquent and prickly words washed over and through her. Other people hugged loved ones close. Men did not attempt to hide their tears. The crowd swayed and shook. Their words lifted, swirling and spiraling around the egrets whose wings flapped, seemingly bringing the voices higher. And higher. Free. Sandy smiled. Finally feeling seen. Tears slid down her cheeks, pooling in the kinky hair of her daughter. Her daughter Hurriya who knew. Who'd known before the white man came and read the words that caused her mama's heart to thump thump thump. Hurriya had known before she came to her mama. Before she'd swam around inside her. Sharing blood. Nutrients. Breath. Before being born into government-sanctioned slavery. She'd known before all of this. Came here knowing. Came here free. No. This white man hadn't brought her any new information. Lincoln wasn't offering some new perspective. They were born free. Born free into a world where folks had decided based on some supposed divine authority, that they were slaves. Hurriya giggled as the harmonies soared around and over her, reminding her of the home and love she came from. Her mama's tears reminded her of things she knew. Things she'd come here to teach. Ignited. Charged. Message received from messenger. "Free" she gurgled to herself. "Free" her mama said back. And everything around them affirmed this message. "Free to be as we are," the birds seemed to sing. "Free to be as bright as I was created to be", the sun seemed to shine. "I came into this world with everything I'll ever need," sang the birds above the crowd. "I am not to be owned. My presence is a present. A gift," spoke the grass. "We belong to no one. We are connected to everything and attached to nothing. We are one." The trees stared. "I am limitless space," the sky exhaled. And Blessed were those who gathered there. To feel everything around them affirm their freedom. And Blessed are free Black women, whose liberation necessitates the destruction of every form of oppression. Sources: Conley, Casey. "'Oh, Freedom': Hundreds gather in Beaufort to mark the 150th anniversary of slavery's end." The Beaufort Gazette, January 1, 2013. https://www.islandpacket.com/news/local/community/beaufort-news/article33493509.html Transcript of Emancipation Proclamation (1863). https://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?flash=false&doc=34&page=transcript Close Loading Video . . . It was warm that day. Unreasonably warm for New Years in Beaufort, SC. Damp air blew in off the saltwater. Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Lancelot Schaubert recontextualized Luke 15 in this short story so that modern readers might more immediately understand the implications of this well-known tale. Luke 15:3-7 Posh Girls By Lancelot Schaubert Credits: Illumination Representation Image by Lancelot Shaubert with Ai on Midjourney Curated by: Spark+Echo Arts 2022 Short Story Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link Wanted to repurpose this classic tale so that it would be more identifiable to New Yorkers. I don't know that I succeeded, but it certainly felt true when I wrote it on vacation in Cape Cod with some friends. It's based off some tourists I met there. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Lancelot has sold work to The New Haven Review (The Institute Library), The Anglican Theological Review, TOR (MacMillan), McSweeney's, The Poet's Market, Writer's Digest, and many, many similar markets. (His favorite, a rather risqué piece, illuminated bankroll management by prison inmates in the World Series Edition of Poker Pro). Publisher's Weekly called his debut novel BELL HAMMERS "a hoot." He has lectured on these at academic conferences, graduate classes, and nerd conventions in Nashville, Portland, Baltimore, Tarrytown, NYC, Joplin, and elsewhere. The Missouri Tourism Bureau, WRKR, Flying Treasure, 9art, The Brooklyn Film Festival, NYC Indie Film Fest, Spiva Center for the Arts, The Institute of the North in Alaska, and the Chicago Museum of Photography have all worked with him as a film producer and director in various capacities. Website Lancelot Schaubert About the Artist Artist in Residence 2019: Lancelot Schaubert - Part 3 Artist in Residence 2019: Lancelot Schaubert - Part 2 Artist in Residence 2019: Lancelot Schaubert - Part 1 As Waters Cover Artist in Residence 2019: Lancelot Schaubert Dragonsmaw Daily | 1 Dragonsmaw Daily | 2 Dragonsmaw Daily | 3 Watchtower Stripped to the Bonemeal Metaphysical Insurance Claim 0075A: The Delphic Oracle Philadelphia Bloodlines Lancelot Schaubert Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art A wealthy NYC heiress had two daughters — Rosario and Evangeline — around the time she retired from running POSH View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . A wealthy NYC heiress had two daughters — Rosario and Evangeline — around the time she retired from running POSH Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Satirist Shelly Williams brings us an unexpected response to Philemon 1:4-7. Philemon 1:4-7 Trend Watch By Shelly Williams Credits: Curated by: Jonathon Roberts 2015 Satire Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link In these verses, Paul is reminding Philemon of his identity, who he loves, who loves him, and how he is being prayed for. As the letter continues, Paul will be pointing back to these accepted realities in order to encourage Philemon to expand his circle of love and acceptance. The audio pieces I create with the Cheney Cutler character play around with the absurdities of daily life. In this case, I decided to run with this concept: Celebrate who you are and what's around you as you move boldly into the future. Background sounds used in this piece were recorded in New York City and Spokane, WA. The additional sound of frying food was provided by Zabuhailo with the Creative Commons License . Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Shelly Williams was raised in Washington state and studied art at Whitworth University in Spokane, WA. After graduating in 2005, she moved to Minneapolis where she worked for a grassroots social service agency and joined the artist cooperative at Highpoint Center for Printmaking. She returned to the Northwest several years later, joining the Saranac Artist Cooperative. Shelly loves to playfully interpret and misinterpret her surroundings. Her artistic practice incorporates walking, chronicling community interactions, writing, and photography. Her current project involves making audio recordings as the Cheney Cutler character, who delivers the news and other absurdities. Shelly lives, works and records in New York City. Website Shelly Williams About the Artist Shelly Williams Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Ruth Forman brings us her beautiful poem in response to the theme of "Harvest" from Psalm 1:3. Psalms 1:3 Her Work as Worship By Ruth Forman Credits: Curated by: Emily Ruth Hazel 2013 Poetry Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link In the teachings of my faith, the Baha’i Faith, work done in the spirit of service is considered worship to God. Psalms 1:3 instantly reminded me of one of Baha’u’llah’s Hidden Words: “And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.” -Psalms 1:3 “O MY SERVANTS! Ye are the trees of My garden; ye must give forth goodly and wondrous fruits, that ye yourselves and others may profit therefrom. Thus it is incumbent on every one to engage in crafts and professions, for therein lies the secret of wealth, O men of understanding! For results depend upon means, and the grace of God shall be all-sufficient unto you. Trees that yield no fruit have been and will ever be for the fire.” -Bahá’u’lláh, The Hidden Words, No. P80 This poem is both a prayer and a meditation/reflection. A prayer for my life work to feed and sustain others. It is also a reflection that for women around the world, so much of our work naturally sustains others. If work in the spirit of service is worship, may our souls also be fed. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Ruth Forman is the author of three award-winning books: poetry collections We Are the Young Magicians (Beacon, 1993) and Renaissance, (Beacon, 1997) and children’s book, Young Cornrows Callin Out the Moon (Children’s Book Press, 2007). She is the recipient of the Barnard New Women Poets Prize, The Pen Oakland Josephine Miles Literary Award, The Durfee Artist Fellowship, the National Council of Teachers of English Notable Book Award, and recognition by The American Library Association. She provides writing workshops at schools and universities across the country and abroad, and has presented in forums such as the United Nations, the PBS series The United States of Poetry and National Public Radio. Ruth is a former teacher of creative writing with the University of Southern California and June Jordan’s Poetry for the People program at UC Berkeley and an eleven-year faculty member with the VONA-Voices writing program. Also an MFA graduate of the University of Southern California School of Cinema-Television, she frequently collaborates on film, music, dance, theatre, art and media projects. Her latest collection is Prayers Like Shoes (2009) on Whit Press. When not writing and teaching, she practices a passion for martial arts: classical Yang family style tai chi chuan, tai chi sword, bo staff and karate. Ms. Forman currently lives in Washington, D C. ruthforman.com Photo by Christine Bennett . Website Ruth Forman About the Artist Ruth Forman Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art Whatsoever she doeth shall be full quenching ripe View Full Written Work "And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper." - Psalms 1:3 Her Work as Worship Whatsoever she doeth shall be full quenching ripe as if God harvested Himself this work planted this thought cultivated these hands her work always sustenance for someone and an offering may her soul also be fed. -Ruth Forman Close Loading Video . . . Whatsoever she doeth shall be full quenching ripe Download Full Written Work

Jason Da Silva 7652 900X600 Loading Video . . . Portrait photographer Annie Levy unifies her experiences photographing filmmaker Jason DaSilva with a powerful verse in Deuteronomy. Deuteronomy 30:19-20 Jason DaSilva portrait By Annie Levy Credits: Artist Location: New York City Curated by: Jonathon + Emily 2011 Photography Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link When Annie Levy photographed Jason DaSilva, he spoke of a short film, When I Walk, that he had just completed for the Tribeca Film Festival. He shared with her that after working as a filmmaker for ten years, he made the decision to focus the lens on his own experience with having primary-progressive MS. When I Walk is about his journey as a 30-year-old film director living with a complex disease amidst complex circumstances. His personal narrative is the anchor point in a film that weaves together interviews, incidents in the life of a young filmmaker and current information about multiple sclerosis. Annie then created a portrait of Jason through her lens. When thinking about making Jason’s portrait, Annie connects her experience to a passage in Deuteronomy (30:19-20): “This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the LORD your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him. For the LORD is your life, and he will give you many years in the land he swore to give to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob”. She says, “I have read this passage of Scripture so many times that I had almost missed the irony that when actually told that there is a CHOICE of life and death, God has to exhort: choose LIFE. In some strange way I almost imagine Him standing behind me, the chooser, not raising His voice but rather in that same whisper that Elijah heard, saying moment by moment, choose life… so that you and your children may LIVE.” Learn more about Jason's work at www.wheniwalk.com . Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Annie Levy is a creative director and writer/photographer who conceives, creates and exhibits projects, telling stories to transform the way we see things. As a result of her work and enthusiasm about her subjects, she is frequently asked to speak at conferences and present to groups, using her projects to discuss such topics as Visual Messaging, Health Care Design, Images and Aging, as well as concepts related to overall project development and design. Included in her speaking engagements/presentations are the New York Times Company Foundation's program for journalists at the International Longevity Center, the Cleveland Clinic Patient Empathy & Innovation Summit, John A. Hartford Communications Conferences, and the American Society on Aging's National Conference. She has been the keynote speaker for Center for Health Design's Environments and Aging Conference, lectured at Sarah Lawrence College in the Health Care Advocacy Department and has conducted a Grand Rounds presentation at Mount Sinai School of Medicine's Brookdale Department of Geriatrics and Palliative Medicine, NYC. Annie spoke at the Cleveland Clinic Patient Empathy and Innovation Summit as well as at the Joint Commission Ambulatory Care Conference in 2015. Most recently, in November 2016, she spoke at Google's Ignite Healthcare. She has her BFA from NYU Film School. Website Annie Levy About the Artist Annie Levy Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Filmmaker Tien Chi Fu chose the passage Ezekiel 47:9 to reflect on for his film centering on Spark and Echo Arts' Summer 2012 theme, "Water," and its ability to refresh us -- both literally and metaphorically. Ezekiel 47:9 Into the Living Water By Tien Chi Fu Credits: Curated by: The Leiser Brothers 2012 Film Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link This short is made to honor the Lord our God, His creation, and the Holy Spirit. We, as humans, tend to do many things on our own resulting in our lives becoming separate to the way of the Lord. The water indicates life and the Holy Spirit both in the Bible and in this short. The characters in this film are both close to water yet away from the Lord. The diver walks past the East River everyday and he teaches people how to dive, but he is so used to his everyday life and he no longer remembers what it's like to be under the sea of God's abundant love. The dancer encounters so many failures in his life and he considers the water his enemy. He is so far away from the Lord that he is close to death -- humanity's destination. Somehow God is still doing his amazing work among us. At that very moment, they are both touched by that love that would not let us go. They start to remember God's wonderful creation and His immeasurable love. Our lives will only flourish when we come back and submit our lives to the Lord. We should follow God all the way into the water and testify of His wonderful creation. There will be no issues, obstacles or defeats. Our God is a faithful God. When we dwell in His life, we will be refreshed and able to witness His wonders. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Tien Chi Fu is a New York based writer/director/cinematographer. Tien was born in Taipei. His father is a playwright and greatly influenced Tien’s work. Tien grew up in a Christian family but not until age 20 did he receive Jesus Christ as his savior and get baptized. Tien attended Sun Yat-Sen University majoring in Theatre Arts; here he spent two years learning theatre techniques with a focus on acting and directing. In his sophomore year, he formed a Drama Club and produced a traditional Chinese crosstalk play with several friends. The many dominant drama theories he learned then became the foundation of his creative works. Following that, he moved to the United States because his true passion is in film. He took a gap year to work full time to save for tuition. He then got his associate degree in Radio/TV in Pennsylvania and got into New York University’s Film & TV department. His black & white film All Tomorrow’s Films is a story of Adam and Eve mingled with the transition between the analog and the digital era. He is now working on his thesis film “George Goforth and the Greatest Generation”. Website Tien Chi Fu About the Artist The Long Trip Tien Chi Fu Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Poet Phil Memmer's poem "How Many Shapes Must a God Take?" is a response to Exodus 3:2-4 and the theme of “stranger”. Exodus 3:2-4 How Many Shapes Must a God Take? By Phillip Memmer Credits: Location: Upstate New York Curated by: Hayan Charara 2014 Poetry Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link The offer to work with the Spark and Echo project came at an interesting, complicated time for me… I had not completed a poem in well over a year and a half, and while I was reasonably sure about what sort of poems I wanted to try to write next, I was completely baffled by how to go about it. In my last two books, I had written dozens of poems that used Biblical characters, or addressed a god figure through psalms, in order to explore my own spiritual concerns. At some point in early 2013, it occurred to me that I’d done enough talking to and about god: it was time for me to allow him/her to speak. I identify as an agnostic, but I was raised in an evangelical Protestant family. Oddly enough, though, I spend far more time pondering the nature of the divine now than I ever did in my church-at-least-twice-a-week youth. The Creator is the ultimate “Stranger” when one does not hold a particular faith. This particular tension is what gave rise to “How Many Shapes Must a God Take?” In my own spiritual history, god needed to vanish in order for me to seek him; she needed to be silent if I was to cup a hand to my ear. And while this poem was written more or less in the order it now appears on the page, and took its initial impulse from the “Burning Bush” story in Exodus (along with images from other religious and mythological traditions), I believe I somehow understood its conclusion before I reached it. Upon completing the poem, I felt “the surprise of remembering something I didn’t know I knew,” as Robert Frost once said. I also realized something I hadn’t previously understood about these new poems: that they are not simply poems in which “god speaks”… they are poems in which “god speaks to me.” And while that sounds dangerously like talking to oneself, I hope they move beyond that and speak to others as well. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Philip Memmer is the author of four books of poems, most recently The Storehouses of the Snow: Psalms, Parables and Dreams (Lost Horse Press, 2012). His previous collections include Lucifer: A Hagiography, winner of the 2008 Idaho Prize for Poetry from Lost Horse Press, and Threat of Pleasure (Word Press, 2008), winner of the 2008 Adirondack Literary Award for Poetry. His poems have appeared in such journals as Poetry, Poetry Northwest, Poetry London, Southern Poetry Review, and Epoch, and in several anthologies. His work has also been featured in the Library of Congress’ Poetry 180 project, and in Ted Kooser’s American Life in Poetry syndicated column. He lives in a rural village in upstate New York, and works as Executive Director of the Arts Branch of the YMCA of Greater Syracuse, where he founded the YMCA’s Downtown Writers Center in 2001. He also serves as Associate Editor for Tiger Bark Press. Website Phillip Memmer About the Artist Phillip Memmer Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art How many shapes must a god take to attract your notice? I tried them all View Full Written Work How Many Shapes Must a God Take? by Phillip Memmer Exodus 3:2-4 How many shapes must a god take to attract your notice? I tried them all–- I came as sunlight through clouds, as a moon full and unobstructed, as fire and various things afire. I came as a man bent with age, a woman hardened by war. I came to you as each sort of animal, and as trees, and the lily, and the rose. As a mountain I came to you, as the sea, as stars over vast distances arranged in suggestive shapes. Nothing worked-– though I came to you with three faces, with one hundred hands, a woman’s frown upon the body of a lion, an elephant’s smile on the body of a man. Though I came as wealth and as famine, as thunder and as drought, nothing–-nothing lifted your gaze, though you claimed to seek me. And I despaired… And in my despair I ripped out my hundred arms, tore off my thousand masks, let cool my fires beyond counting. I came to you as darkness and silence. …And you, so enamored of absence: now you see me. Now at last you hear. Close Loading Video . . . How many shapes must a god take to attract your notice? I tried them all Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Author A.J. Kandathil crafted this short story inspired by the theme of "Lies" from Genesis 29:20-25, the story in which Jacob marries Leah. Genesis 29:20-25 Leah Wrestles with God By AJ Kandathil Credits: Curated by: Emily Ruth Hazel 2013 Short Story Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link When I chose “lies” as the theme I’d be working with, it took some time to settle on a certain passage, as the Bible is littered with liars. There’s the moment when Abraham denies that Sarah is his wife because he fears the consequences, then there’s the lying serpent, and of course there’s also Peter’s famed denial of Christ, just to name a few. But I decided to focus on the story of Jacob, Laban, and Leah because Jacob was someone God undeniably favored, despite his tendency to use and deceive people (and, therefore, to be used and deceived). Although I chose to tell the story from the perspective of Jacob’s first wife, Leah, I can identify with Jacob as well—with his propensity for twisting God’s arm, with the ambition that defines him. In the Bible’s account, the story belongs to Jacob, and he is—by many measures—a hero. But what of the people who became little more than detritus on his journey to father the nations? What of the wife he didn’t love? Though the traditional American ideal of the biblical “hero” can lean toward the simplistic, I prefer the ancient Greek notion of the hero, one that’s much more troubled, and thankfully, much more human. The Greek hero has the capability to hurt those he’s meant to protect, and even those he loves. In the often told story of Jacob’s wrestling match with God, we know the outcome. Jacob wrestles with God for His blessing, and he gets it, though he walks away with a limp that will last the rest of his life. But what isn’t often talked about is the fact that Jacob got to wrestle with God. The very notion suggests an equality between partners, an occasion for an intimate fight, as one sometimes engages in with a beloved. Can you imagine it? Having that kind of access? Much of the women’s inner lives in the Bible are excluded from scripture. Even if we don’t know much about Leah other than her role in the master narrative, God knows the smallest details of Leah’s life—her secrets, her disappointments, her triumphs. In some ways, Leah’s whole life may have been a wrestling match with God. Who’s to say? So this is my imagined account of it, told from Leah’s point of view. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection A.J. Kandathil is a Pushcart Prize nominee whose work has appeared in Burner Magazine, Newfound Journal, Hippocampus, and The Tottenville Review. She currently writes about the cross-sections between literature and television for Ploughshares , and she is at work on her first book. You can find her on Twitter at @ajkandathil. Website AJ Kandathil About the Artist AJ Kandathil Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art If I could, I'd wrestle with God over one truth in my life: my father had to lie to get me a husband. View Full Written Work LEAH WRESTLES WITH GOD by A.J. Kandathil If I could, I’d wrestle with God over one truth in my life: my father had to lie to get me a husband. My father, Laban as he was known, thought if he got his nephew Jacob drunk enough, if it was late enough, and if my face was veiled enough, Laban could fool him into mistaking one daughter for the other. That’s who I was then—the other daughter. I was older, but Rachel had the kind of beauty that put her ahead of me in every way. For seven years, I’d watched my sister steal secret moments with Jacob. You could feel the spark between them all the way on the other side of our fields. Jacob had always been kind to me, but it was a selfish kindness, a tool to get what he was after. And that was my sister. I was jealous—of course I was. Snaring men had always been so easy for Rachel. I never felt anything but invisible in her company, and I knew I wasn’t beautiful enough to catch Jacob’s eye. I’d also always known that my father was shrewd—just as shrewd as Jacob turned out to be. There wasn’t any ceremony. There were no vows. This was what marriage was: an agreement between two men. When Laban came to me the night of the feast, even I was shocked at his cunning. His plan to exchange my sister for me under cover of darkness seemed like a curse. Had I waited so long to be married only to be yoked to a man who was fooled into my bed? “Jacob didn’t work seven years for me,” I said as my father led me away from the crowd. “He worked for Rachel.” Unaware, my sister threaded her way through the dense clot of guests. She was happy; she still thought this night was for her . Only from a distance could I see how this ignorance adulterated her impenetrable beauty. The party was loud and lit by fire, a blazing star in an empty expanse of farmland. That was our home—open space that stretched beyond our ability to see it, with enough secret spaces to hide so no one could hear you laugh or cry. My father didn’t flinch at my words. Instead, he waved his arm in dismissal. “He won’t even know it’s you until morning, and by then it will be too late,” he said. The farther we got from the feast, the more we hurried. It was already late, and Jacob was waiting in his tent. I’d need to be inside it before my father told Rachel what he’d done.Wait one week, he’d tell his daughter to quell her anger. Let your older sister have one week, then you can marry him, too. Laban had me by the wrist, and I could feel my fingers swelling beneath his grasp. What was he going to do? Throw me at the feet of his nephew? I couldn’t stand the humiliation of it. I might not have been beautiful, but I still had my good sense. I stopped just short of the tent where Jacob had intended to spend the night with my sister. Laban’s arm petrified like a piece of stone. Even though I looked for his eyes in the dark, I couldn’t find them. I wouldn’t ask him if he knew what he was doing. Of course he did. After a minute of silence, he loosened his grip. My father turned toward me and rested his hand on my back, just as he used to do when I was a girl and afraid of the deepest part of the water on the far end of our land. Even then, he’d pushed. “Don’t you want to be married?” Laban asked me. Before he’d been urgent. Now he sounded weary. He’d asked those words, but they didn’t form a true question. If I didn’t marry Jacob, then I’d either never wed, or I’d be wed to an outsider who might take me away. This was the only home I knew, and I didn’t want to leave it. In that brief moment, I saw my father’s deceit for what it might have been—a kindness to me, his eldest daughter, who had always been overlooked. Even he thought of me as the other sister. I’d never find a husband like Jacob on my own, and my father knew it. It was this kindness, even in its deceitful cradle, that undid the tangles of my integrity. This action, for better or worse, would hold our family together. I took a timid step toward Jacob’s tent, and I touched my father’s cloak. “Don’t do this,” I almost said. Almost. The truth was–I did want to be married. But to take what belonged to my sister? That was cruel, even though I’d been forced to share everything with Rachel since the day she was born. She was tireless with her own desire. “If I don’t have that blanket, I’ll just die ,” she’d say during the colder season, or “If I don’t get that apple, I’ll just die .” Rachel had ways of getting what she wanted. That was something she’d learned from our father. “Hurry, now. Hurry.” Laban’s words covered me just like the veil he placed over my head. So I stepped into Jacob’s tent and waited for him to turn toward me. I don’t need to tell you how my heart pounded. I was sure everyone at the feast could feel its vibrations. When Jacob reached for me, I smiled beneath my veil as I reached back. For one week, just one week, I wouldn’t have to share. My wedding night was the best and worst night of my life. I felt beautiful. I felt worthy. Most of all, I felt like myself. A miracle occurred: I was not my sister, and for once, Jacob could not tell the difference. For a moment, I was happy. But by dawn of the next day, the rest of my life began. Just before Jacob opened his eyes, he sighed and rubbed his head. I could tell he had a bad hangover. When he opened his eyes and the previous night’s haze dissipated, he looked confused. Was I Leah and not Rachel, his beloved for whom he’d slaved for seven years? How had he ended up in the wrong tent? I watched the realization of truth creep over him, like a sunrise over the mountains. Laban, his own flesh and blood, had played a dirty trick on him. I was the dirty trick. Jacob didn’t say a word, and he didn’t even try to hide his disappointment. The recognition was devastating for us both. From that morning forward, I started to pay the price of being seen . Before, Jacob had just disregarded me, and now he looked at me with contempt. He couldn’t see who I was. He could only see who I wasn’t. And Rachel’s wrath was even worse. She was used to getting her way, as the pretty ones always are. Do you think I wanted this? I wanted to scream at her. For my husband to be in love with you? But she would never understand that I was the kind of girl who had to take what she could get. After that night, our lives became a jumble of lies and second-bests. Seven days later, Laban came through on his word and gave his second daughter to be Jacob’s second wife. This time, there was no party. The damage had already been done, and no one wanted to celebrate what had occurred at the hands of two liars. Even though I’d had no choice, I’d become my father’s accomplice. I lost the nerve to look anyone in the eye. We all flirted with bitterness. Around our supper table there was never any talk of the twelve tribes or fathering any nations. How could any of that come from a family like ours? We were known by our strife. Our misunderstandings. Disappointments. Loneliness. Attempts at forgiveness. Don’t do this , I almost whispered to my father on that night before the irreversible occurred. It would have changed the course of history, but I wasn’t worried about that. Instead I was haunted by the quiet devastations that constructed my life. I’d never been romantic, but I wanted to be loved, and not just by my husband. By my father, too. For years after our wedding night, Jacob was outraged to be so deceived by my father, but he should have seen it coming. When Jacob lied to his own father to secure his older brother’s birthright so many years before, our crooked story began. Lies beget lies, and liars keep company with their own. Still, a cheater is always surprised when he gets cheated. And some of us just get caught up in the chaos, wondering whether the truth ever mattered. God might not lie, but His people do. Close Loading Video . . . If I could, I'd wrestle with God over one truth in my life: my father had to lie to get me a husband. Download Full Written Work