Eternal LIFE: Attentiveness

So much of our work as artists is bound up in conscious attentiveness. We must pay attention. We pay attention to choices and how they interact in our media, to colors, to light, to tone. Attentiveness leads us to a weary contentment when at last, in the moment of inspiration, our work transcends form and material. The burden of attentiveness becomes the artist's most auspicious exercise, perhaps because it points to the reality that the present moment is imbued with it's reflective worth in eternity. As Maria Fee wrote this week about our next InterArts which will feature an exhibition of her artwork, "We will seek to explore how Eternal LIFE is part of our present life as artists". But how can we cultivate our attentiveness in order to work with eternity in mind?


At lunch with International Arts Movement Executive Director Bryan Horvath this week, we lamented about the human tendency to be blissfully unaware of all the ways that God is working in and through the arts. It's all too easy to imagine that an artist who may have little regard for God's kingdom or the work of the Spirit is consequently disqualified as a conduit of divine presence and power. But God often chooses to work through such unsuspecting people and circumstances. Curious, isn't it? Could it be that one reason for this phenomenon is simply that everything which we call good work is empowered by the Spirit who blows like the wind and falls like the rain on the just and the unjust? And if this is the case then could it also be said that anyone who cultivates a careful observation of this magnum opus of the Spirit through conscious attentiveness to his good work in essence becomes a careful observer of the Spirit? From this viewpoint it's more than a little embarrassing that we who would, by the Spirit, seek to worship, honor and cherish him through an ancient & divine blood covenant are so often the last to notice his precious presence and activity. So, what's that about? How can we connect our conscious lives in the present to the Eternal LIFE of the Spirit such that our work in the present becomes a reflection to us of it's eschatalogical destiny?


Perhaps we can learn from actors in this matter. Let us look to the theater! Actors endeavor to be present in the moment of each scene while also being fully aware of and aspiring toward the play's culmination. The skill of the actor then is to employ their bodies and imaginations in the service of their character's highest ends with an acute attentiveness to every detail of staging, lighting, music, direction and their fellow actors. All of this must happen concurrent with a collaborative effort to move the story forward for the audience with a tremendous amount of focused intention until the dropping of the curtain. This proves even more difficult in film when the scenes are disparate, often shot out of order and over the course of several months. But is it possible in our real lives to be fully present, attentive and yet future-minded? Tall order huh?


It seems impossible to me, until I remember the words of Jesus to his disciples upon his departure from the earth, I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high." (Luke 24:49). Jesus speaks here of the coming of the Holy Spirit and his instruction for his disciples is to wait in eager expectation even as the creation now waits for the Spirit of God to be revealed in human beings (Romans 8:19). Our conscious attentiveness, then, is no empty meditation but pregnant with anticipation of power from on high. It is the promise of Christ and the proof of his faithfulness (death on a cross) that becomes the subject of our attentiveness and the source of our power as we anticipate the culminating work of the Spirit in our world. We, like the disciples, must wait in the city for power from on high. And we do not wait in vain for God has shown us that he has held nothing back from us, pouring out his very essence even on those who reject him. Let's pray for eyes to see more of his magnum opus in the artists and industries to which we have been called. 


Kenyon

Not As The Flowers

It was not as the flowers,

each soft Spring recurrent;

it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled

eyes of the eleven apostles;

it was as His flesh: ours.

-John Updike, Seven Stanzas at Easter, Stanza 2

The lilies that will adorn our churches this Sunday are redolent of fresh life, yet for Updike this symbol is much too subdued. Christ’s resurrection signals so much more: we can forget about Easter fineries, for we will one day wear Spiritual bodies. And just like the angel at the tomb in John Updike’s poem, Seven Stanzas at Easter, we will be weighty, “opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen, spun on a definite loom.”

The resurrection indicates a new way of being. A life animated by the Spirit, tabernacle in a physical body— the earthbound people of God. Easter for artists signals the re-creating capacity set into motion by our Triune God: the Father’s undying love, spurs the Son’s self-giving, and the Spirit’s creative activity overcomes death for all. For artists this dynamic movement reverberates into our own lives as we continually advocate and sacrifice for art to then experience some semblance of renewal. If our God re-creates out of brokenness, even death, please consider this Easter what this means for your art. “Let us walk through the door:”

The stone is rolled back; not paper-mâché,

Not a stone in a story,

But the vast rock of materiality that in the slow

grinding of time will eclipse for each of us

the wide light of day.

-John Updike, Seven Stanzas at Easter, Stanza 5

--Maria

Longing And The Spirit Life

Fresh Pair of Eyes

'Cause I want to be seen
With a fresh pair of eyes
The single white tree
In a black hood of disguise

I want, I want to be seen
With a fresh pair of eyes
The single, the single white tree
In a black hood of disguise

I miss God, I miss God
I miss God, I miss God

-Brooke Waggoner

Longing is one of the visceral affects induced by Wim Wenders’ film Pina. Pina Bausch’s choreography beautifully, and at times with forceful asperity, depicts the body reaching for what lies beyond. Leaving the theater one cannot help but address our hollowness set beside such hallow-ness.

I miss God, I miss God
I miss God, I miss God

The songstress, Brooke Waggoner, also elicits yearning. Longing comes from diagnosing what we miss. Like the Psalmist, we need to voice our apprehensions acknowledging God all the while. To be spiritual means to live and work in the realm of the Spirit—God’s own presence in the world. Through Jesus we are given the Spirit in order to grasp God’s holiness and righteousness. This happen in spite of how we live in the mire of our own muck. When we receive mercy, we know God is near.

The Spirit gives us “a fresh pair of eyes” to enable true relationship with the triune God, with others, and with the physical world. Steven Guthrie relates how “Apart from God’s Spirit, we sink further away from our humanity.” (Guthrie, Creator Spirit, p.36) According to Guthrie this is why the Spirit allows us to see God through artists like Pina Bausch who is able to trace and recover genuine human movement. God’s Spirit does not de-humanize, instead it reorders and transforms our human desires so that we may see Him. In fact, it is because of Jesus’ humanness the Spirit can reveal what has been missed under sin’s "black hood of disguise."

The Spirit life, therefore, is a life dependent on our triune God. Our work must be handed over to Christ’s renewing love that reconciles all things. Cultural renewal comes out of Spiritual restoration. Perhaps Ms. Waggoner also comes to this realization when she croons in her song Wonder-Dummied how “I tried my best alone but it got me nowhere and I can’t do it on my own.” True longing erupts in God’s accepting presence for we finally sense our own inadequacies, “Oh to be of the purest of pure in his arms,” Ms. Waggoner aches:

But I’ve never felt this feel so heavy
And I’ve never felt this feel so low
Yeah it is a wake inside my whole soul
But you are my strength I won’t stand alone

The Christian artist works in the medium of painful longing for we are given the Spirit who directs us ahead to what should be, what can be, what will be. This is why Colin Gunton understands the Spirit’s action as eschatological. The Spirit works to perfect “the particulars by relating them to their source and destiny.” (Gunton, The One, The Three, And The Many, p. 212). Let us not be overwhelmed by the heaviness of longing, but relate it back to its source and destiny for ultimately it is God we seek.

Please join us at InterArts Fellowship on April 16^th when Brooke Waggoner, along with William Edgar, will help us to further examine the Spirit Life.

--Maria

The Dialogue Continues

A friend of mine tells a story of a woman he loved and lost to a terminal illness. He recalls how he strove to make her last days so full of life. She dreamed of going to Italy, and because it was clear she would never make it there he transformed her hospital bedroom into a living Italian montage complete with a gondola! He painted the walls with scenes from Venice, Rome and Florence...all to make her feel full of life. He went on to recall being by her side as she lay dying. Offering him some of her last words, she passionately whispered, "He is Life!"

Scripture tells that He who has the son, has life (1 John 5:12). If there's one thing we are seeking in New York City it's this sense of really living: to have Life. Artists especially depend on this over- abundant sense of being alive to both suffering and joy.

Last fall we began considering six themes regarding the calling of the artist in view of the gospel. Now, as we start a new ministry year, we invite you to consider one over-arching theme which we will approach this coming Monday at InterArts Fellowship with the help of Steve Garber. The theme is simply Life, capital "L". We intend to explore this theme in four ways:

Abundant LIFE

Body LIFE

Spirit LIFE

Eternal LIFE

Through our programs, events and conversations with you we hope to explore the reality of abundance, the imminence and import of life in the body, the mystery of the spirit and the hope of eternity. Join the dialogue through quarterly gatherings of InterArts Fellowship, in Arts Vocation Groups and on our InterArts Facebook page.

Hope to see you soon. Take care in the city!

Kenyon

The Spirit's Work

In my apartment building in Queens, I am fortunate to have a superintendent with a kind and humble heart. James is a man of principle and deeply committed to his family, including his autistic son, Jason. We live in an old pre-war building with lots of issues so I am in regular communication with James for repairs. The problems in my apartment don't seem to be unique among the other 60 rentals in our building because this year James installed a little drop box in the lobby with instructions for how to make a service request and a little pen dangling from a string. It works like this: the tub gets clogged...again, and I drop a little note in the box explaining the problem, the level of urgency and a range of times that I can be available to receive the work. So, far it's been a pretty efficient little system, with perhaps one drawback. I'm never exactly sure when he's coming or how long it will take to do the repair. Most often, I find myself interrupted from REM sleep by the doorbell and jolted unexpectedly from my Tempur-Pedic pillow about an hour before I had intended to wake up on a weekday morning.

I can't help but notice the similarities of this ongoing relationship to that of my prayer life. I receive so many answers to my prayers with the same scraggly disposition that James meets when he shows up at my door, toolbox in hand. What do we imagine the Spirit's work will look like when we pray, "Lord, change my heart. Make me more like you"? It is far more the will of the Father than my own that I be transformed into one who reflects his character. The disconnect comes in how I tend to think about and imagine the process of bringing about this transformation.

For the most part I think we have quite a different view of our hearts than God has. It's fitting. The plumber has quite a different view of your toilet than you do as well. For you, it's part of an unconscious habit of doing a business about which you take no particular notice until something has gone wrong. In God's reality your heart is a place of massive devastation, and yet also a place of glorious beauty and potential. This has everything to do with who he is, and the quality of his nature. In his nature lies the hope of our hearts. He's on the job. But are we awake to receive him?

Kenyon

The Deep Places: Accessibility and Responsibility

ac-cess /'ak,ses/ , n. a means of approach or entering a place.

ac-ces'si-ble, adj. easy to reach or influence.

As artists we have access to a key environment in the structure of a human being. Nigel Goodwin calls it "your belly". Martha Graham calls it "your center". Aretha Franklin calls it "my soul" and King David called it "my innermost being". This deep place exists between dreaming and waking where we are most ourselves, in which no pretense could ever possibly materialize, where the passions and fears that drive our lives are cultivated. But we would be kidding ourselves to think that artists have some kind of original authority or credential at the gateway to the deep places of the human heart. No, it is only in collaborating with the most mysterious Artist of all that we ever even come close to accessing the deepest realms of human longing. It is in this place, the deep place, that we need God to meet us most of all.

So, much of our work as artists is a kind of active or skilled waiting, as we delve into this mysterious place where the Holy Spirit is quite impressively on the move like a merchant sailing a trade route in hostile waters. Much of our work, indeed, is looking, listening and waiting to respond or simply be awed by what the Holy Spirit is doing in us, through us and around us. Unlike us, He is not limited by time, place or resources. He has infinite power to access the deep places in every human heart.

Might we consider that the spiritual responsibility of the artist could be a matter of stewarding the access we’ve been granted to this most potent environment? How are we doing as artists with stewarding the access we have to human hearts? How are we doing as a community of artists within churches...within families...within society? As individuals? Have we learned the discipline of listening, looking and waiting? Are we aware of how He might be moving in our own deep places? Understanding accessibility and responsibility might help us discover an important aspect of our spiritual calling as artists, particularly within the church. But certainly, the first environment we must explore is our own.

Have you been met in the deep places by the Spirit of the living God? Certainly we are being met by many other presences, personas and influences in the deep realms of our hearts from which our longings stir us to daily actions and ways of being; or to use James K. Smith's helpful description, our cultural liturgies. Has the risen Christ stepped into your "inner most being" lately and impacted your "center"? Would you notice if He did? Does He sometimes seem to take flesh in your dreams, or perhaps he's used the melody of a song or a childhood memory to take apart your facade until you crumble at His feet? Has He undone you with His skillful, compassionate artistry? Has he melted your heart with warm fear and penetrating hope?

If artists do not learn to articulate and understand the nature of the spirit’s work through the various mediums of the arts then we may ourselves begin to conceive of a lesser value for the power and access we’ve been given by the grace of God. In this world, we need merciful merchants on the waters of that deep river. Artists do not control the heart, but we can know Him who is the Desire of nations.

It is because of Grace that artist’s can operate in the deep places. Grace was bought with a price. Let us give the Lamb of God the reward of His sufferings. What He seems to desperately want in all of this is to create hearts that are awed by Him and Him alone. As He says, to remove our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh. Isn't it ironic that all of the other things that move us deeply and control our lives only make us harder, colder, less alive, less human? But He works with all the maniacal devotion of a research scientist who's discovered a cure, using his own body and blood as the test subject.

Let's look and listen and wait for the Holy Spirit to invade the deep places of our hearts; and as He gives us grace to move others, let's move them to awe at the One who paid such a price to have full access to our hearts.

Kenyon

Our Future Is Now

Sometimes believers work hard at being spiritual, forfeiting the reality of their humanity. Jeremy Begbie, on the other hand, believes it is by the Spirit we grow more authentically human (Begbie, Voicing Creation’s Praise, p. 118). The resurrected life of Christ brings meaning and hope to our bodies—to being human. This hope, according to Gordon Fee, is empowered by Jesus’ resurrection and the gift of the Holy Spirit, which stamps believers with eternity (Fee, Listening to the Spirit in the Text, p.140). As Christians we basically live life geared towards the eschatological—a life imbued with our final outcome—an age when we’ll continuously glorify God in our full Spiritual bodies. According to Fee the early Hebrew believers understood this new age as the life of the Spirit—a fulfillment of a long awaited promise. Artists, we are privileged to live a life filled with the Spirit, looking ahead towards eternity.

What does this mean for artists working in the 21^St century? We must commit to human flourishing. Spiritual renewal is tied to cultural renewal. Having a relationship with Jesus, through the Spirit, enables us to see the world the way God sees it. But it is not enough to keep these visions in our heads. Nicholas Wolterstorff insists “that there is in man a deep dissatisfaction with merely holding in mind his religion.” There is a human longing to make our convictions concrete through song, sculpture, or drama (Wolterstorff, Art in Action, p.145).

It is our job to project through our creations a world that includes the reality of Christ’s glorified wounds. Spirituality can bear the marks of pain and suffering only because they already live with Jesus in the eternal realm. This is true beauty.

Love Jesus, be spiritual, make art.

Maria

Joseph and the Spirit

Christmas sermons, stories and songs don’t generally focus on Joseph. But then there is the nativity narrative found in Matthew. Because Joseph’s story demonstrates reliance on the provision of God, I must confess my own inability to worship God out of his abundance.

Here is a man who must take home a wife who is with child, a child not his own. But God’s command to Joseph goes further than the adoption that includes his Davidic heritage, he says to Joseph: when you fulfill your fatherly duty of naming this alien, give him the name I choose for him. Furthermore, this child will lead you to stables and through deserts. He will drink from your limited water supply and eat from your small table so that you and the world may know my abundance and grace.

Presently, we have two young adults living at home. There is my grown son and another who is not my own. To the son, all that is mine is his, I don’t expect him to restock the cereal, but I ask him to on occasion. To the other, I’m annoyed if she doesn’t replace a bar of soap. With the stranger I live in scarcity holding on to what belongs to kin. So, I ask myself, how did Joseph do it? The text gives us the key: “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.”

The Holy Spirit takes what is un-familiar, and seemingly un-related, in order to lead us to an abundant life with God, a life with Christ. Therefore, do not set to divorce, but rather take in what is not yours. With the Holy Spirit this axiom becomes fundamental to both art making and the Christian faith. Live life and make art out of God’s abundance.

Merry Christmas,
Maria