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Santa Claus, God, and Me
Growing up Christian, my prayers generally fell into one of two categories: those said aloud with family in the evening or before meals (yes, even at restaurants—our waitress sometimes returning with the ketchup bottle to linger awkwardly until amen) and those offered independently. Prayers said with family followed a familiar pattern: “Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for this day / this food / good weather / the dog,” followed by the requests: “please bless this food / please bless Aunt Gertie / please help me pass algebra,” and so forth. Personal prayers, on the other hand, had an additional component: repentance. Each night after listing what I was grateful for and before I could ask for what I wanted, I first had to apologize for all the crappy things I did that day. “Dear God, I’m sorry I hit my sister even thought she started it, and I know you know it too because you (like Santa) are always watching.”
Indeed as a child, I had pictured God and Santa Claus side-by-side on a celestial cloud watching my every move, reading my every thought, and making little tic marks beside my name each time I did something wrong—a running tally of my badness which would decide my short-term fate at Christmas and the long-term fate of my soul. My only hope at avoiding the worst was ‘fessing up to anything I could possibly think of each night before dropping off to sleep.
As a result, talking to God felt more like trying to patch things over with a disappointed parent then anything else, and as time went on I grew to resent this idea of a impossible-to-please Father, eventually forgoing prayer altogether. Sure, as an adult I reached out if I really needed something—when driving in dicey weather, for example, or experiencing in-flight turbulence—but these infrequent pleas for safety were far from an open dialogue, and I hadn’t seriously considered repairing the relationship until recently.
An Artist, a Mentor
After wrapping up Julia Cameron’s 12-week Artist’s Way program for creative un-blocking a short while ago, I felt great. And a little lonely. After three months of consistently reading her essays, I had begun to feel I had a friend in Cameron, and I missed bookending my week with her writing. Coincidentally (but dear reader, I am beginning to believe there’s no such thing), my husband had another of Cameron’s books, Seeking Wisdom, and so I started into it to quickly discover it was—you guessed it—a book about prayer.
In the first chapter of Seeking Wisdom, Cameron asserts that if the idea of a score-keeping Santa-Claus God is clouding one’s ability to feel connected to a divine source, this concept ought to be dismantled. To find a suitable replacement, she suggests listing out the characteristics of a God that you feel you can talk to—a divine companion who supports you in your creativity. As Cameron sees it: “Creativity is God’s gift to us. Using our creativity is our gift back to God.”
“Creativity is God’s gift to us. Using our creativity is our gift back to God.”
– Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way
Which kind of makes sense, doesn’t it? After all, the Great Creator is just that: a creator! The Source of all source material—mountains, sunsets, stars, the moon! Subjects that have kept poets busy for generations are God’s own originals, and so it follows naturally that God would want to support us in continuing this legacy of creation in our own lives. So okay, if I was going to believe in a creatively supportive God, what else did I want to believe in?
A kind God. Yes. And a gracious one—endlessly patient, loving, and forgiving. A God with a sense of humor, a sense of indulgence, a God who saw my potential when I struggled to see it for myself. And as I opened myself up to talking to this generous and listening God, writing my prayers out longhand first thing each morning rather than muttering them late at night, I found myself getting much better reception.
Sending, Receiving
This month, worrying a little about money (who doesn’t?) and always about the progress of my art, I brought my concerns to God, and the response was swift and direct. Not only have I had perhaps the most creatively productive month of my life—four finished pieces as well as major breakthroughs on multiple larger projects, inspiration pouring in like water from a hose come un-kinked—but God also came through with the tidy sum of an extra paycheck from a variety of unexpected sources: an envelope of cash slipped into my purse by a family member as thanks for a favor, the sale of the wedding dress I’d consigned months ago, and an art commission solicited by a friend I hadn’t heard from in years.
These kinds of gifts (especially the monetary ones) were so generous that my first instinct was to bat them right back. “Oh, but I couldn’t!” You know how it goes. When my friend reached out to inquire about the pieces he wanted to purchase, I initially quoted him at a near loss (the inspiration for the comic at the start of this piece), but he insisted on giving me a more generous sum anyway. Sometimes, even when we are stupid, God gives us another chance to say yes.
And so all this said not to promote prayer as a means by which to make some quick cash or to sew up the plot holes in your screenplay (though it certainly can be—God does, after all, have infinite resources and as many good ideas) but really rather to say to anyone who might be nervous to phone God for fear of getting a disappointed Father on the other end of line, you are far more likely to find the opposite: a warm and gracious “what took you so long?” and a backlog of blessings just waiting to be sent your way.
Movies Worth Watching
I’d be remiss not to recommend the two films which absolutely made my March:
- Perfect Days (2023)
- The Taste of Things (2023)
It’s rare I see a movie I think is perfect. These are. I hope you’ll watch them.