Whenever Our Hearts Condemn Us...

This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.

Dear friends, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God and receive from him anything we ask, because we obey his commands and do what pleases him.

And this is his command: to believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he commanded us. Those who obey his commands live in him, and he in them. And this is how we know that he lives in us: We know it by the Spirit he gave us. 1 John 3:19-24

It struck me recently that much of the conversation I find myself having with artists who identify themselves as followers of Christ is very seriously concerned with moral perfection. Perhaps it would be better described as a moral burden. This burden or pressure to perform morally and ethically disturbs me for several reasons. The first is simply that this sense of pressure to perform morally is not the intended result of the new birth. In fact, it seems to demonstrate a lack of reception of saving grace and the gospel of grace. Truly, I would hope that artists who actually believe in Jesus would be the freest of all artists, but I find that just the opposite is true. Those whom we might consider to be anti-God or anti-Christian are often the very ones whose lives are seemingly unfettered by self-salvific moralism.

I suppose I'm merely observing what Tim Keller describes in his book The Prodigal God as the older brother/younger brother phenomenon. Not to over-simplify the scenario by applying the parable directly to artists, but I suppose I could apply Tim's reading of the Prodigal Son story and subsequent indictment of the "older brother" who stayed home with the father as being equally as lost as the "younger brother" who cared not for the father or the rules of the household but demanded what was "his". In the end, Dr. Keller shows us that both brothers are equally far from receiving the father's love and grace and the sense of freedom therein. But, as we also learn from Tim, at least the younger brother ultimately humbles himself and receives the fattened calf (a picture of Christ's sacrifice) and the ring-seal of the the father's favor (picture of the Spirit).

Yet, I wonder if it really is as simple as that in this case: believing artists are at home with the father like the older brother and unbelieving artists are like the younger brother whom the father is faithfully seeking on the horizon? Two kinds of lostness...? The application seems too simplistic to me. Certainly the gospel demands a moral response, that is, an embodied response to the Reality of Redemption. This seemingly awkward transition of sinner to redeemed human being is the "already-but-not-yet" moment in which believing artists find themselves. And I think they have a lot of naturally accompanying fears and hopes in the midst of that scenario. As I look on the faces of these would-be artists seeking to follow Christ with all their heart, I have to believe that their sense of over-responsibility is more than just a self-righteous obsession with their own moral rectitude. While this may be the case in many, it does not account for the abject fear I've seen in some of their faces.

So what about this fear? Fear that God will strike you down if you accept a role that is less than wise or write a play that is more vulgar than is good for one, or perhaps you publish a trashy novel in hopes of getting a better opportunity in the future, and the list goes on...I suppose we all want to know what will come of our relationship with God and his people if our story was to include some of these mishaps. And here, I surmise, is the kicker! What will God's people say or do or think about my art work? Not what will God say, think, do...

What will Christians say, think, do about my work?

Isn't that the real fear? Perhaps the grace we are seeking isn't the grace of God but the grace of God's people that is so tragically and egregiously absent in the current relational state of the church to the arts. There is perhaps so little grace between the two communities that artists who find themselves living between them are completely petrified both of stepping on the toes of the lost younger brothers in the arts and the lost older brothers at home in the church. If this is true, then what a situation! How can we increase the level of grace that is extended to artists from the church, particularly those artists who would hope to call the church home? But then of course the question follows, how can we extend grace to artists who are far from home and have not yet grown weary of their lostness from the father? Still more, how can we extend grace to the lost artists who are physically home in the church yet so afraid of the father, desperately trying to secure his favor through moral perfection?

Oh Father, help us! This is a sad picture indeed.

Some prayers of hope:

To the artist who calls the church her home. Let us say to her, Daughter, breathe deeply of grace and fear not the loss of your place in his arms for you did not come home by your will but by his own, and you are not saved by your cleanliness but by his own.

To the artist who has yet to find his home in the church, let us extend a loving and hospitable hand...the hand of a patron, and of a father and of a wise citizen who seeks the flourishing of the city in which he has been exhiled. Let us extend the hands of those who live in covenant with the Almighty, who care for the alien in the land.

Finally, let us all together say to our hearts whenever they condemn us, that we have comfort and a great Saviour in Jesus Christ who was fully drowned in the cup of God's wrath, yet overcame the final judgement because he had not sinned. If we believe in him, then we are blameless by his death. Let us live as artists in the light of this truth.

Let your art-making and your great adventure of faithfulness be in response to the greatest act of love that ever was or ever will be.

Let us make art in this spirit, with this peace in our hearts.

Never fear, for it shames the cross.

Kenyon

Just Practicing

Participants of the last writers vocation group took upon the task of a writing exercise that responded to an excerpt from Jonathan Edwards’ The Spirit of Charity the Opposite of a Selfish Spirit. The aim was to engage in theologically reflection through the process of writing. We examined the fall of man from his “exalted, and noble, and generous” rank to that of being “debased, and ignoble, and selfish” and how “Christianity restores an excellent enlargement, and extensiveness, and liberality to the soul, and again possesses it with that divine love or charity.”

The following responses were written within the time limitation of fifteen minutes. I’d like to thank each person for sharing the product of this experiment and for leaving behind a creative reminder of our time our together. The creating and sharing of art in community should be one of the hallmarks of the church. These actions can become corporate practices that would not only illuminate the different ways we see God working in the world, but also exercise the rusty creative muscles of believers. Let’s strive to be more imaginative, inventive, and inspiring.

--Maria

From Raymond Chao:

He is called the First Man. He steps firmly with his naked foot upon the black, rich soil. He breathes deeply and releases a meaningful "Ahh" - a sigh, that is not of relief, but satisfaction. "Go forth," is the command given him which he remembers, cemented in the folds of mind.

"Come before me!" he bellows from the cliff overseeing the luscious land. The sun is beating down with liquid energy, breezes transporting the sweet, sharp smells of nectared flowers. Soon, he hears the trample of hooves, the shaking of tree branches, the calling horns and screeches of his dominion. The First Man smiles.

He begins to name them, so they will know when they are called upon. He orates until dusk, and soon the community of beings prepare for night's rest. Then, the First Man turns as he feels the gentle rumble and approach of Majesty. Here is the great I AM. "Sleep Adam," and he lays on the soft grasses almost woven and imperceptible. The Holy Father thrusts with great might and momentum into the First Man's torso, but he does not even flinch in his shut rest. A single bone is removed and floats vertically upright. It slowly turns in presentation, beautiful depiction. Soon, it has gradually begun spinning faster, glowing, growing like a prolonged elliptic orb.

Woman spins.

From Christian Costeines:

We had it all,

paradise and warmth
exposed and unashamed
adventure and bliss, rolled together
not at odds

We lost it all
safe warm acceptance
eternal companionship
the eye of favor
by the loving Father

Replaced by pride
the endless toil
to justify our just deserts
sprung forth from minds
abased, deluded
twisted illusion
of self sufficience.
The isolation and competition...

Yet steps in the midst
Faithful rescuer
Loving brother
To show the way
To be the way
Restored the way
Will we abide
His loving woo?
A path returned to
The living pool.

From Anna Letton:

prompt -> "ubermensch, the Fall, the rich transformation of redemption"

Sometimes God makes me feel like an athlete. Like a swimmer or long-distance runner - someone who could take a deep breath and exhale, and you'd feel the sunlight tremble with her vitality. On these days, I still know that if I have to run for the bus, I'm going to get palpitations and lie gasping at last on the molded orange seat like a hooked tuna... but I feel the inner power in me. I remember someone I have not yet been - a superwoman, a tree-climbing, confident-limbed Eve. She fears not. She believes. She was, she will be, made sound.

Creation & RE-Creation

Twice a year, Redeemer Arts hosts a 7 week art & theology series called In the Living Room. It’s a fail-safe recipe:art, faith, wine & cheese in a Manhattan apartment. But God continues to exceed my expectations when 20 artists from varying disciplines come together to explore how the gospel transforms their callings and their work.

This past Tuesday was the second week in our winter session of the Living Room in which we theologically re-imagine the identity and work of artists as a reflection of the image of their creator God. The buzz words for the evening were creation [aligning the work of artists with the meta-narrative of the cosmos, creation, fall & redemption] and re-creation [describing how artists can join God’s work of renewing humanity and creation].

I was very encouraged to receive the following reflection from one of the attendees, a visual artist, about her new found perspective on engaging the creative process in light of God’s renewing work in the world. Or as she put put it…

We were challenged by the concept that our art is a context that God uses to renew us.

"It is so easy to get caught up in the need to show art, to have an audience, to communicate a message, that we can easily forget that God is working on us and changing us through it as well. But when asked how we can know what work God is doing in us through our art, our small group came to a surprising realization..."

We don’t fully understand what God has done in us until a piece of work is shown to others and they speak back to us about it.

"…When the creative process is just between the artist and God--we are inspired as we respond, feeling the deep satisfaction and focus of being present in the calling… But it was suggested that the process is not complete."

...It is not really art until it is shared in community.

"There is kind of covenantal relationship that can exist between the artist and audience. The artist commits to faithfully, thoughtfully, and carefully share a vision as a vessel of the inspiration; and the audience commits to receive it thoughtfully and carefully and to give back their new understanding and inspiration. This reciprocation of the audience further enlightens the artist and inspires new art to be shared again. It’s a continual three-way dance between the Lord, the artist, and the audience. Art cannot be created merely to please an audience but it is incomplete without being shared with the community.When this paradox is held in balance, the beauty of our work will multiply exponentially!"

I personally hate showing my work.

"It is an incredibly vulnerable place to be and there is a mixture of pride, shame, and fear that holds me back. But I think that an attitude of humble confidence–knowing I am approved by God because of the gospel–would make showing my work much easier. It would relinquish the need for self-glorification. Until my work is shown, I am still “pregnant” with it in some sense. Finally letting it out would bring a new lightness and freedom. It doesn’t matter what people’s reactions are… both criticism and praise can roll of my back if my eyes are fixed on God, my heart trusting his approval of me because of Jesus."

--a painter, age 27. In the Living Room, Winter Session 2012. Redeemer Arts Ministries New York, NY

If you're seeking fellowship and dialogue about how your art & faith are meant to be in constant conversation, flowing out of a holistic experience of your life and calling in the city, visit faithandwork.org/arts to find out more about Redeemer's Arts Vocation Groups, InterArts Fellowship and In the Living Room.

-Kenyon

Wiggle Room

Indeed, there are times when artists lament how job pressures keep them from true creativity. We don’t always possess the luxury of pursuing interests, concerns, or longings. Instead we are given assignments, commissions, and roles to embody. We must pay bills, make deadlines. Therefore, reality spurs motivating factors besides predilection to rouse artistic action. But does this really make the work any less creative?

In Shop Class As Soulcraft, Matthew Crawford disputes the romantic concept that freedom or “the unleashing of the self” engenders creativeness. Crawford maintains that creativity is actually a by-product of being present. It takes discipline, “the mastery… cultivated through long practice,” to shape good work. In other words, it’s really submission to given materials that allow artists to be inventive, effective, and authentic. For Crawford one must “dwell” in given tasks to gain any credence in it.

Along this line of thought my writer friend, Garnette, introduced a creative concept he employs which he calls wiggle room. We witness wiggle room every time an actor sparkles despite vacuous B-movie material. Wiggle room utilizes inventiveness and imagination within our specified perimeters and shortcomings. Artists are called to access what Crawford calls “patterns of experience;” the knowledge gained from “confrontation with real things.” Our embodied experiences, no matter how low or mundane, become foundational for good work. We must rely on experience to make our projects ring true. Here is where Crawford connects work with philosophy. While philosophy seeks the good—a way to live life; it is our work that become the context to employ the good. For Crawford we must make use of philosophy, “the desire to know” and examine, in order to embrace and propagate good work.

Perhaps, then, our real problem with creativity is submission. Do we really want to surrender our time and energy on a seemingly unworthy project? Jesus seems to think so when he took on the disastrous human project. Surprisingly, because of the taint, few are interested in investing in his mission to redeem humanity. In The Death of Adam, Marilynne Robinson, bewails how we lost our ability to take pleasure in human presence. She writes “we ceased to enjoy human act and gesture, which civilization has always before found to be beautiful even when it as also grievous or terrible.” Despite the circumstances of sin, Christian artists need to employ wiggle room. We need to be hands on with the work given no matter how inconsequential it seems. Christ came to redeem humanity by becoming present, therefore, calls us to also be substantial, to confront real things, in real time.

Artists, let’s make wiggle room a redemptive part of our work.

--Maria