"Den Gaben Gestalt geben"

The saying was lettered in calligraphy on the crosspiece of a delightfully crafted gate in front of a German house. Both the house and the gate were painted sky-blue and decorated with folk art motifs in reds, greens, and yellows. I was captivated. I took a photo—actually several—but they have been lost to time or neglect. The negatives may be spooled in a little yellow cannister somewhere in some box, but it is hopeless to try to find them.

Nevertheless, both the house and the quote imprinted themselves on my mind’s eye.

Den Gaben Gestalt geben—which I translate as: Give form to the gifts.

The idea being, a gift—any gift—is for the sharing. Not to be hoarded or hidden away. Do something with whatever gift or gifts you’ve been given. Find expression, structure, embodiment, shape. Bring to the gift an outward and visible form.

The person, or persons, who painted the house and the saying on the gate had clearly done that. And they urged the passerby to do the same. However, I don’t doubt that the primary motive was for themselves to use their stunning gift of folk-art painting and to delight in the process, as well as in the finished product.

That, to me, is part of the nature of a God-given gift: the process of working it out should bring joy to the possessor of the gift. Eric Liddel, the Scottish Olympic runner who won the Gold Medal in 1924, expresses this thought in a lovely way. He is quoted as saying, “God made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.” i The running brought him pleasure, as well as the winning.

The process, of course, undoubtedly involves work. Even God, the master Creator, “worked” to give form to a formless void. ii To bring the world and all its parts—from light to leopards to lungs—into visible, viable existence. So, for us lesser creators, whether training to run fast or designing, cutting, and stitching fabric to make a quilt, or laboring over words to craft a poem or give a speech—the work itself brings pleasure. To me, the process of seeing a quilt take form under my needle brings satisfaction. I am not in a hurry to get to the finished product, which is why I stitch all those pieces by hand. Of course, I also delight in the finished product and in hanging it in my home or in covering a bed. I do want to see it, eventually.

Likewise, when I write—once I have done the often arduous work of formulating an idea—I find great pleasure in first drafts, revising, trying to find just the right word to put in just the right place. To enjoy the work involved in the process is itself a gift. I often think—didn’t God have fun designing whales and orchids? Figuring out (albeit with His unlimited wisdom) how to get from a tadpole to a frog? I have no doubt at all that the Creator loved the creating. Painting, for instance, the threadlike purple stripe on the petals of the tiny flower called Spring Beauty, which is about three-eighths of an inch in diameter. Forming minute ice crystals into each snowflake. You almost need a magnifying glass in both cases. (I could go on.) He made these gifts for those who take the trouble to see them and to marvel.

I am grateful to the painter of the quote on the gate. And the thought so compellingly expressed has been a leitmotif for me through many years. Do I have a gift? What is it? What should I do with it? Doubt often plagued me—what is my gift? Is an ability a gift? Can anyone else possibly benefit from mine? Or find joy in it? Find some kind of meaning through it?

I once read an article by a songwriter/pianist who decided that God would be his only audience. He did not want or seemingly need the affirmation of others. He would find joy in singing and playing for God alone. I admired his selflessness and apparent devotion (though he wrote the article for me to read). But as I reflected, I wondered if he was right in hiding his gift from his fellow travelers—us—who could have been prompted to praise God for this man’s talent but also through and because of his music. I have not heard of him since. I have not been able to benefit from his gift.

We are here—writes Robert Browning in his poem “Rabbi ben Ezra”— “to lend our minds out.” Robert Browning’s gift was poetry, and he did not hide his gift from me or thousands of others. The quote continues, “God uses us to help each other so…” How can my gift, however meager in my own eyes, help another person? And the mystery is, I think, that I may not know, may not ever know. Robert Browning—and the artist of the carefully lettered quote on the gate—had no way of knowing how I would mentally store up both the beauty and the saying and the thoughts they generated. The point is—use the gift. Let it go out into the world for any and every passerby, no matter what they do with it.

The example of Moses both encourages and amuses me. He had been arguing with God, protesting that he was not the right person for the job (true, it was a huge assignment), that he did not have the ability to speak God’s message in a hostile environment.

God gave him an object lesson.

“What is that in your hand?” God asked. It was simply a wooden rod, his staff. “Throw it down!” God commanded. When Moses obeyed and threw down the rod, God transformed it into a living snake. Moses had no idea what the rod in his hand could become or how God would use it. He had to do something with it to find out. iii

God gives the gifts. All that we are and have come from him. He made me for himself, but he also made me for others. He surely finds pleasure when I use the gift he’s given me. What parent does not delight in watching a beloved child enjoying the gift he or she has carefully chosen? But God’s gift is for others, too. He decides who will benefit from it. That is my comfort when doubts plague.

What is in my hand? That may be my gift. However lifeless it may seem, or how uncertain I may be, if God tells me to do something with it, he alone knows his purpose for it, how narrow or how wide-reaching that may be. My delight is doing something with it, and letting God decide where it will go.

It may be that He’s asking me, “What is in your hand today?”

Give form to the gifts.

i Quoted in the 1981 film, "Chariots of Fire"

ii See Genesis 1:2 and 2:2

iii See Exodus 4:1-3