Walking on Water (20 page)

1.
In chapter 7, L'Engle often talks about the importance of retaining the “quality which the world would limit to children.” She argues that the artist must be like a child in his or her openness to mystery, to story, and to truth. Yet, she also claims that art for children is the “most looked-down-on of all.” How do you personally feel about art that is intended for children? As a group, list some popular children's art—television, books, music, even toys—and consider the value of these things. Do you instinctively think less of these works of art because they are for children? Do you think these things are examples of
good
art or, as L'Engle might call it, art that is true? Why or why not?

2.
When you think of how Christians are viewed by society today—either in popular media or by people you know personally—do you think the church is living out the following statement of L'Engle's? “We draw people to Christ not by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them how wrong they are and how right we are, but by showing them a light that is so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it.” Do you know anyone who tries to argue others into believing in Christ? Can you think of anyone who, instead, shows “a light that is so lovely” that others are drawn to their faith? Can this light L'Engle mentions be seen in works of art? What examples come to mind?

3.
Of faith and doubt, L'Engle says, “I had yet to learn the
faithfulness
of doubt. This is often assumed by the judgmental to be faith
less
ness, but it is not; it is a prerequisite for a living faith.” What do you think she means by “faithfulness of doubt”? How is doubt an act of faith? Reflect on a time when you have had doubts in your faith. Do you think you've grown from these experiences? Do you feel your doubt was faithful? Why or why not?

4.
L'Engle asserts that it is “love, not answers” that bolsters our faith and enables us to cling to God. Do you agree with her? Have you ever asked questions of God, even if you were afraid of the answers? Do you feel that questioning brings you closer to your Creator or builds barriers?

5.
Take some time to follow L'Engle's writing advice from this chapter. Think of an event that happened in your childhood or adolescence. In the words of the instructor: “Write in the first person. Nothing cosmic, just an incident. And do not write this for children. Repeat:
Do not write this for children
. Write it for yourselves.” After you have completed this, move on to the second half of the assignment and tell the story in third person from the point of view of someone else in it. (Remember, if you were alone, you can tell the story from the view of an inanimate object, an animal, or some other creative option.) As a group, share your writing, as you're comfortable. Do you think your story is a children's story? Do you see any themes or lessons or angles you've never considered in regard to the incident before, now that you've written it from another point of view?

1.
L'Engle says “sometimes God chooses the most peculiar people to be vessels of genius.” Can you think of some examples? Consider the great artists in history—Da Vinci, Van Gogh, Jane Austen, and many others. Would you consider these vessels of genius to be peculiar? Do you see God in their work? How does one separate the art from the artist? Is it possible?

2.
Think of a moment in your life when you felt true communion with God. Was that moment filled with words or silence? The author says, “We need the prayers of words, yes; the words are the path to contemplation; but the deepest communion with God is beyond words, on the other side of silence.” Have you experienced this? Is silence—in prayer or in general—comfortable for you, or do you find silence unnerving? Why do you think silence is (or is not) important?

3.
The author laments that people are often taught to equate truth with fact. What is the difference between truth and fact? Are they the same? Why or why not? How do you determine the difference, if there is one?

4.
Read the passage in the chapter discussing
destructive
versus
constructive
rebellion. Do you understand the difference? Have you ever experienced a time of destructive rebellion in your own life? How did that experience change you? Conversely, have you experienced constructive rebellion? What does that look like?

5.
Is calling something by name important? Specifically, do you think calling an enemy by name is important? In the words of Shakespeare, “What's in a name?” L'Engle claims that “the enemy has a name in church, too, but we've forgotten it.” Do you agree with her? In what ways do you think the church has forgotten the name of the enemy? In what ways does society seem to avoid naming enemies? Is this a destructive practice, or do you think it is beneficial not to label someone or something as “the enemy”?

1.
Do you think there is a difference in the creative process for the Christian and the non-Christian? Do you have any colleagues, partners, or friends who share a similar creative passion with you, but who are not Christian? Have you ever discussed your creative process with them?

2.
Consider the role of discipline in your life. Do you have it? To what do you apply the most discipline—your faith? your job? your art? your family? Why do you think you have better discipline in some areas than others? In what areas do you need to increase your discipline? Are there parts of your life that could benefit from less discipline?

3.
When faced with choices that are all wrong, how do you decide? Think of a time when this has happened to you, when all options were bad, but you had to choose. What did you do? Do you think you made the right decision?

4.
The author's criterion for making a choice in her work is “Do we want the children to see it?” What is your criterion, if you have one, for making difficult decisions about your life and work?

5.
This chapter reveals a painful and frightening ordeal in the life of the author and her family—an accident suffered by her young granddaughter. At the onset of the tragedy, L'Engle says, “I knew that I had to make that act of thanksgiving.” Why is thanksgiving important, both in times of trouble and times of joy? What role has thanksgiving played in your life? Do you feel more aware of all there is to be grateful for when you are going through trials, or is gratitude a regular part of your life? Share a time when thanksgiving has been especially difficult for you, but when you've chosen to give praise to God anyway. How did this experience change you?

1.
“Artists have always been drawn to the wild, wide elements they cannot control or understand—the sea, mountains, fire. To be an artist means to approach the light, and that means to let go our control, to allow our whole selves to be placed with absolute faith in that which is greater than we are.” Are you drawn to things you cannot control or understand in your own art? How do you feel about this? Is it easy for you to trust your art, to have faith that something greater than you is in control, or do you find this challenging?

2.
What do you think L'Engle means when she says “the Jesus we grasp and the Jesus who grasps us may…differ.” How can this be? Is there a time in your life when you've encountered the reality of this statement? How did you react?

3.
Do you agree that prayer and the creative process are similar in that “the mind and the heart, the intellect and the intuition, the conscious and the subconscious mind, stop fighting each other and collaborate”? How has this been true for you, if at all? Have you ever considered your prayer life and your creative life to be so linked? Do you feel that these things—mind, heart, intellect, intuition, conscious, subconscious—really do collaborate when you are in prayer? How? Do they collaborate when you are creating?

4.
Do you think that “a certain amount of stubbornness—pigheadedness—is essential” to your art? Talk about a time you have had to demonstrate these qualities in order to be true to your calling as an artist.

5.
The author says that “our work should be our play,” and uses the example of a child at play to illustrate this. Have you ever seen a child “
seriously
at play” as L'Engle describes? Talk about what you've witnessed, and consider how you can learn from this child's example. What did the child at play have in that moment that perhaps you lack in your own work? Do you think it is possible to “be at play” in your work?

1.
Do you find it “a joy to be allowed to be the servant” of your work? What do you think the author means by this? How are you a servant to your work? When are you most joyful in work?

2.
Part of L'Engle's creative process includes collecting ideas for stories much like one might collect and sort ingredients for a meal. She says she drops ideas, characters, settings into different “pots” on the stove of her imagination, and when it comes time to write, she brings the pot that is the most full to the front. Do you relate to this method? How do you cultivate your ideas for your art? Does inspiration tend to come slowly or all at once for you?

3.
L'Engle talks about the difference between knowing deeply and knowing consciously. She argues that we tend to think of the word
know
in a purely intellectual sense but that there are many things we
know
that cannot be intellectually defined. For example, “in the realm of faith I
know
far more than I can believe with my finite mind.” Discuss some of the things you know deeply in this way. How do you know that your spouse or child or sibling or friend is being truthful about something? Has anyone ever said to you, “You know me better than I know myself!”? What do you think they mean by this? Do you think it is true, that we can know someone more deeply than they know themselves?

4.
In allowing herself to be surprised, and in letting go of her conscious control over her art and allowing the work itself to lead her, L'Engle is able to work “on the other side of silence.” What do you think she means by this phrase? Have you ever experienced this? She goes on to say that “the disciplines of the creative process and Christian contemplation are almost identical.” Do you agree with her? How are these disciplines similar? How are they different?

5.
Is community important to your creative life? Do you tend to create in isolation? How does community change your work? In what ways do you try to engage or disengage from your community in order to produce your best work?

1.
Do you agree that “it is not possible to be a Christian while refusing to be vulnerable”? Why is vulnerability important? How was Jesus vulnerable? How are you vulnerable?

2.
Here, in the final chapter, L'Engle says, “I am beginning to see that almost every definition I find of being a Christian is also a definition of being an artist.” Have you found this to be true in the course of your reading? Why do you think being a Christian and being an artist are so similar? Or, if you don't agree, why do you think she is wrong?

3.
Do you agree that we are all called to enter into death in order to be reborn? What does this mean to you spiritually? What does it mean to you artistically? The author says that “the great artists [die] to self in their work.” What do you think this means?

4.
What is the “lake” the author refers to in this chapter? How are you “feeding the lake”? Do you believe all of humanity feeds this lake, or is it possible for people to opt out, if you will, of this communal act?

5.
L'Engle states that Peter “remembered how” to walk on water for “one brief, glorious moment” when Jesus called out to him on the lake. Do you believe that some part of your soul “remembers” how to walk on water? Have you ever felt as if you
were
walking on water? Do you want to?