Open your hand.

 

Imagine I rest an old key in your palm. “Try this,” I say.

 

You nod and look up—I am gone—and before you is the wall of a room inset with the frame of a door. Light emanates from its edges. The whole length of the door is inscribed with thousands of languages. Some which you recognize, others look only like symbols and signs.

 

As you approach the door, you notice there’s a nob but no keyhole. Your fingers trace the frame, but it’s no good. The door is locked.

 

Gently, you place a hand on the nob. It won’t turn—but a warm sensation flutters on your chest.

 

Your hand reaches for the warmth—what’s that?

 

A small hole glows upon your sternum. The edges open into blackness. It’s not painful. And it’s shaped exactly like a keyhole upon a door.

 

Your eyes glance at the locked door. Your hand grips the old key. You lift the key to your chest. It fits.

 

You turn—it clicks.

 

The door swings open.

 

You take a breath and step inside.

 

As you cross the threshold into an open space—what do you see?

 

Anything might be there. It just takes another word or sound, and beauty may arise before you or fear terrify. Only a few words or images and we are inside a felt experience.

 

In this space, horror is just as far away as the holy.

 

As we engage, the reflection of our own ideas and dreams rise from the words and meld into a story before our mind’s eye. We are moved by it. Drawn into it. Ache melds with hope. Wonder evolves into questions. Risk beckons change. All this arrives through a vantage point in our minds.

 

And hopefully, the land we enter changes us—or, put another way, the landscape we inhabit changes in us. As G.K. Chesterton says, “We all believe fairy-tales, and live in them.” And no matter what we think of this capacity called imagination, it’s active in our faith, our fears, and our prayers.

 

Imagination—the root is from imago, meaning image, suffixed with “ation” that implies the action or process of doing something. “Action”, for example, is the doing of an act. “Revelation” is the process of revealing. So, imagination is the act and/or process of imaging. When we imagine, we are in the act of image-ing in our minds. It’s as simple as that.

 

We commonly know this as pretending or storytelling. But our capacity to imagine goes much deeper—into our very nature. As Christians, we know we’re made in the image of God. The image of God, in Genesis, is something God writes into Adam and Eve’s very life-breath.[i] Because of this, we’re always in the act and process of imaging. In a sense, imagination is our nature as the creation reflects the Creator. So, what might this imaging action and process mean for us?

We’ll be considering this powerful capacity for the next few blog posts.

I invite you to talk to the Lord even now:

• Lord, what is coming up for me when I think of the imagination?

• What areas are excited or expectant when I read this?

• What areas are concerned, scared, or even skeptical?

• When do I use my imagination? At work? At home? In relationships? When I’m alone?

• Spend a few moments with God, talking about this capacity He’s given you, ask the Holy Spirit to show you more about your imagination, invite Him into this space…

Continue Reading —> Part 2 in the Buried Imagination - Is Our Imagination Reliable?

Footnotes

[i] Genesis 1:26