Practicing My Way to Hope

This post was written by guest writer, Anna Hogan, a ReNew York Ambassador and Costume Designer in Lexington, KY.

January started off with a surprise trip to NYC. It almost felt like the ending to my driest season of creativity; so I, of course, desperately welcomed this trip.

The pandemic had hit me, like many of us, with a painful rush of doubt. It skewed my vision when my work as an artist used to be so clear. So I spent November and December reading books on creativity, just trying to figure out if I even remembered how to be creative! (I snicker as I write these words, but that really was the last bit of motivation I had!)

Fujimura’s Art and Faith, a Christmas gift from a fellow artist, seemed like the best place to start. As it turns out, his theology of making was just the “brushstroke” I needed on the dry canvas of my creativity. And I could pick up where I left off.

During ReNew York’s goal-setting workshop, I filled up my empty calendar with a commitment to create something every day.  This creativity didn’t have to look like anything specific – I just desperately wanted to practice art again.

I knew that Lord had met me in this dry space time and time again – when the world turned upside down, when I got Covid multiple times, and when my son was deployed to Afghanistan (leaving me in my worst days of motherhood). I reminded myself that this is the place where I first found him. It was here that I fell in love with Handel’s Messiah and started to notice the beauty of green grass, intoxicating flowers, and exquisite petals. This dry place was actually a place of wonder, a place where mystery drew me close to him.

Hopeful to push through my anxiety, I started to practice. I’d set up my paint, open my bible, and keep my expectations low as I made things. It went on like this for a while. Each morning I would read a psalm, pause to reflect, set a timer, and paint.

But slowly, it became something I looked forward to. I experienced joy again. And I discovered just how exhausted, weary, and hopeless my heart was. 

Some days it was hard to paint, so I would just journal. Some days I would sew. Some days I just washed the paint brushes and rearranged the bristles. 

But I realized that showing up was the best practice. I painted strange things, wrote crazy poetry, and surprisingly, God met me in all of those moments. 

Now, I’m finally feeling renewed in my calling. He’s been opening doors of fellowship, and giving me design contracts. I feel excited to pray for others and to protect the creativity of young artists in my care. I feel restored. 

As I practice, I am holding the hope of spring.

Isaiah 43:1-4

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.

When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.

For I am the Lord your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior;”