By Seth Humble
I'm a man given over to a particular kind of intensity. My heart, always inflamed, rarely carries me on plain, middle paths. My joys and enthusiasms are lived at an internal Everest peak-- life at its top. My many anxieties, insecurities, and infirmities I experience at the shadowy depths of my own ocean floor. At my best, I am a herald against injustice. At my worst, I am like James and John, an impetuous "Son of Thunder." For me, I find God in the quiet places where Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit, removes the tempest within me. It is a slow place, a quiet place.
I find God in the music of Bach, the oils of Caravaggio, and the little lives of the little people in Tolkien's grand fiction. I find Him there because in order to experience those creative works one must remain silent, holding under rein my internal stampede of ego, vanity, and pride. I see the divine stamp pressed into foundations of their technical mastery and that brings to mind the knowledge that, I too, am a work in progress.
