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

Missing the Mark

Once I was alive apart from the law; but when the commandment came, sin sprang up and I died. Romans 7:9

I like to say I got into acting on a fluke, but I believe God wanted me to be an actor so that I would become more like Him and that through my work others would see what Christ has done. In my pursuit of each character I discover that God is changing me, whispering to me about my own heart. The work of the actor has been called incarnational. We embody characters and enter the world of their story in order to pursue their ultimate good no matter who the character might be. All good actors discover their character through compassion, identifying with them and seeking their highest end.

I once prepared a scene for a TV episode in which my character was being questioned by the police at his little brother’s funeral. At first I believed my character was angry at his brother for having lived such a careless life and ending up a statistic. Just beneath the surface of his anger was latent sorrow and grief. Simple right? But the moment of breakthrough in the audition room came when I realized that my character was actually angry at himself and desperately trying to avoid the shame and guilt he felt for being unable to save his brother, a task that was never within his ability to accomplish. It turns out there’s something more universal than grief…pride.

A funny thing happens in our hearts whenever we hear about the thing which we must become… or else. Somehow we construct a perimeter by which we can measure or express our negligible resources to pull it off. And when the dust settles we’ll tax the world and everyone in it before we can admit our own failure to measure up to the standard. It’s a very fancy version of the blame game. The bible refers to this high standard as the law. But why is it that a perfect description of our intended purpose in the world, our teleos, awakens in us a sense of dread or even self hatred rather than inspired moral character?

In the Garden of Eden (Genesis chapters 1-2) Adam and Eve had no concept of their smallness in the great scheme of things, and they were never meant to. An infant is small but is never made to feel small in the world of the family. In fact it’s just the opposite. We’ve all seen how the nuclear center of the family shifts to accommodate a new born. But let the infant get the idea that it will enact it’s sovereignty on the local government to produce abundance and society on its own, then it must either have a moment of devastation or else it must find a vision more within its reach.

The gospel shows us that Jesus Christ the King, who does all things well, made himself lowly and condemned on the cross so that we could be held in great esteem by our Heavenly Father. He became insignificant so that we could become God’s treasured possession. Most of all, he fully claimed the condemnation that cries from every corner of every human heart “You’ve missed the mark!”

As you continue to reflect on the intersection of Christ's work on the cross and your own work in the world, consider how these gospel-conversant questions for the actor might also apply to your daily reception of God’s favor and love, which he stands ready to lavish on you in every moment of life, especially now.

Kenyon

Suggested Questions for the Actor in Loving Pursuit of a Character:

(Also may be helpful to ask questions in first person or “in character” using "I" and "my")

■ What does my character like most about herself/himself?

■ What is she/he most proud of in the story of their life?

■What would she/he likely change about herself/himself or their story if they could?

■ What mark or measure would she/he feel they have failed to attain in life?

■ What does she/he most regret in their life?

■ With whom does she/he need to be reconciled?

■ How will they she/he know they have been restored in that relationship?

■ How will she/he know when everything is finally ok in their story?

■ How would they describe “the good life”?

Walking With Christ

Reading Roberto Goizueta’s Caminemos Con Cristo (we shall walk with Christ) startled me into realizing how much my own theology of work aimed folks solely towards kingdom transformation in our world. To be sure, this is a good and a worthy project, but Goizueta has reminded me how social transformation is not our end and purpose. In Genesis, God deems humanity good, before he gives out work. Therefore, while God calls us to cultivate, perhaps we should perceive this human activity as aesthetic: the desire for a beautiful life that drives us to do good. Now, I recognize, process and production are not mutually exclusive when we put ourselves into God’s hands. But, I need to be constantly reminded not to measure and value human worth as the world does. So, forgive me, while I counter the pragmatic tendencies of our present realities by promoting process over production. As Goizueta points out, it’s the process, the way we go about our work that makes us distinctly human beings.

While, it's the artist-side of my role as an arts ministry coordinator that encourages artists to create works that are community building, social commentaries, theological meditations, and mimetic observations; its my theological-side that reminds them that their creations do not define them. As my colleague Kenyon constantly quips, "It's your life, taken up in Christ, that determines your worth." While art accomplishes wonderful things, our ability to do, mainly demonstrates we are beings. Ultimately, it’s not so much what we produce, but how we allow our strengths, abilities, foibles, and failures shape the way we live in God’s grace.

The parable in Matthew 20 concerning the hired workers illustrates how God is not as concerned with productivity as we tend to be. Here, he compensates those who worked all day the same as those he commissioned a few hours before pay. In fact, the parable depicts a landowner more preoccupied with giving men work, then his need to pull in crops. This landowner goes out five times to ensure every man within his reach has purpose and meaning for that day. It is God who hires us, therefore, making us desirable.

In a kingdom where the last will be first, our Christian theologies of culture must not solely rely on transforming the world through our work. Goizueta outlines the danger of this one-dimensional agenda: “If the act of production is the prototypical human activity, then all human activity will tend to be judged by the criteria of production…Human life will be viewed and valued as the means or instrument through which we produce a desirable product, whether that product is income and profit, food, or the classless society.”

What? You haven’t written that socially transformative book or shaped lives by calling to attention the horrors of corruption through a photo series? In Mark 18, Jesus calls a child and brings him before his disciples, who were intent on finding out the kingdom hierarchy. Jesus tells his audience, those who are humble like a child, become the greatest in the kingdom.

When introduced to a child, it is not usual to ask the child, or their parents, what they do for a living--a child just lives. Healthy children experience awe and discovery through play. They find joy in newly acquired abilities. Indeed, these actions are precious gifts befit for the kingdom.

Shall we walk with Jesus as we work?

Maria

New City

In the book of Revelation John is shown the bride of the Lamb exemplified as a brilliant city coming down from heaven. This is not a city fabricated from steel and poured concrete. Instead we find purified gold, excavated stones, cut jasper, emerald, and sapphire. Its gates are colossal pearls plucked from the deep. This city holds an overwhelming material presence and bids us to use all of our senses.

Why this solid, tactile description? Are we, the bride, the Holy City, called to be a magnificent material presence— beckoning touch to ascertain its reality? Like John, let’s be carried away by the Spirit to behold such a visceral image of what we are to become. For in our present state we are raw material in need of being purified, excavated, cut, purged and plucked. Our rough surfaces and extraneous burrs must be smoothed away to reveal true beauty.

As Christians, and as artists, we do not disregard the material despite its flaws; we view possibilities. We wrestle, almost battle, to materially manifest ideas, distill insights. Jesus comprehends the painful process of creating, the exertion needed to dig up what must come to light. What makes the city in the book of Revelation a work of art is its thoroughly worked-over presence.

Artists, as we watch the horrors of Japan unfold, let us be reminded of John’s vision. It was the angel who held the seven bowls of plagues that took John by the hand to show him the New Jerusalem. It takes pain and process to make us more real, more solid, more beautiful. This is the nature of both Christianity and art.

--Maria