the fine line between art and technology

My latest reading is “Culture Making,” an insightful look into scripture from a cultural point of view.  And by culture, I mean the most general sense of the word, or as the author (Andy Crouch) would put it, “what human beings make of the world.”  Crouch suggests that you and I were made to be culture-makers.  He suggests that the two key ingredients of good culture-making are creativity (bringing things into existence that did not exist before) and cultivation (knowing and caring for the space from which your materials for creating come).  And he suggests that you and I were made to be culture-makers as a function of our intrinsic relationship to God as his image-bearing representation on the earth that he created.

One thing he talks about is the nature of cultural change.  We know that culture changes; there are a ton of examples around us.  Let’s take movies, for example.  In the past 100 years, we’ve gone from black and white, silent, and projected on a big screen with average picture quality to millions of colors and sounds playing from your HD TV at home with sparkling, crystal-clear picture.  And that’s just scratching the surface.  We could talk about the advent of special effects, stunt doubles, animation, and the artistic elements of comedy, drama, and everything in between.

In the midst of our comtemporary culture possessing a myriad of problems, the church’s response has been a strong desire for revival and revolution.  We want to see Jesus enter the “dirty temples” in our culture, kick some ass, and take some names.  This seems to be the only solution we can see to the seemingly insurmountable social constructions that oppress and abuse the weak and needy among us, and perpatuate a tolerance and fancy for immorality.

And how does this translate for art and artists?  Let’s let Crouch answer…

“Culture watchers sometimes talk about the ’silver bullet’ theory of Christian influence - the dream that someday, someone will write ‘the perfect song’ that will, in four minutes of pure inspiration, bring about a wave of repentance and  conversion in our land.  This is treating a song like a device.  It is turning music into technology.  Christians are not the only ones who cherish this fantasy - advertisers of all sorts have mastered the art of transmuting music and art into the technology of persuasion.  In fact, it might not be too much to say that the four-minute pop song is itself a device, a technologically massaged tool for the delivery of pleasing or cathartic emotions” (59-60).

As a writer of songs about Jesus, I can see what the current landscape of my craft is, and I’m not too pleased.  To be honest, the word technology can, in my opinion, describe a good chunk of the songs out there.  It’s like we’ve reached the level of the generic 21st century hip-hop song: music stolen from another song which was stolen from another song, with lyrics and themes too repetitive and sterile to provide any new insight into the world.

For a long time, I’ve wondered why this is the case, and I think the quote above helps me to understand.  There must be a ridiculous amount of pressure on Christian musicians and writers to create something pleasing enough to its constituency to be bought and enjoyed.  Christians, as the consumers of Contemporary Christian Music (or CCM, for short) need their fair share of “pleasing and cathartic emotions,” and the artists must feel obligated to deliver, lest they run the risk of losing their livelihood and relevance among the only people who take them seriously as artists.

But I conclude by suggesting to you that I see three fundamental problems:

1. My generation has successfully turned music into a tool for addictive emotional manipulation, and artists into their drug dealers; there seems to be no difference among followers of Jesus.
2. As soon as an artist feels the pressure of having to make art that says a certain thing or evokes certain feelings, their vocation changes, from artists to scientists.  Their products are no longer art, but experiments, carefully controlled devices meant to elicit a certain response and deemed a failure if that desired response is not achieved.
3. Nobody in the CCM subculture (or the American church, for that matter) seems to think there’s a problem.  In fact, I would say that few even care.

At this point, I’m sad, confused, and intimidated.
My Question for God: How do you plan to wean a generation off its addiction to technology?  Who will you raise up to provide a reasonable alternative?

psalm 99

I think the reason it’s hard to write good worship music is because it takes a lot of effort for me to bring the vastness of my emotional and thought world into some sort of artistic convergence.  It usually takes a measure of holistic engagement with the Bible that usually results in a little more introspection than I asked for.  Simply put, when I write, God is faithful to let me know that I’m a sinner, and that he loves me eternally and abundantly.

The Psalms are full of soul-exposing poetry and lyrics, much of which can go undiscovered or unnoticed if something like that holistic engagement is set aside for superficial knowledge or half-hearted reflection.  Take Psalm 99, for instance.  When you read it on its face, it’s pretty straightforward.  Nothing really to see.  But let’s take verse 1.  I know that most of us are already fixed inside our Western cosmologies, so if you were to read this carefully:

The Lord reigns; let the peoples tremble!
He sits enthrones upon the cherubim; let the earth quake!

it should make no sense to you.  You see, for us over here in Western Industrial Enlightenment-land, it makes absolutely no sense that there would be a close connection between our spiritual and physical existence.  However, it was very different for the Jews (especially the ones who followed Jesus around, but even the ones that came before them).  They were quite aware of the fact that God’s presence in the world (signified here by his reign as king) meant something real and tangible for all creation.  When I read this, it makes me think about whether or not I know Jesus as this kind of King.  Sometimes, I fall into thinking that the Jesus I gave my life to is a figment of my imagination, a guy who was real to people 2000 years ago.  I forget to pray and to hope and to live as though he is the risen, reigning King of this world, now and forever.  The question is not whether or not he is the same yesterday, today, and forever; rather, the question is whether or not I’m letting all of Jesus’ character shape my expectations of him.

I think this psalm gives us a great praise imperative (it has two variations):

Exalt the Lord our God;
worship at his footstool!
Holy is he! (verse 5)

Exalt the Lord our God,
and worship at his holy mountain;
for the Lord our God is holy! (verse 9)

I’ll end on this.  People talk about God being holy, and usually have no idea what that means for their life.  These verses are pretty clear: one indication of the value of God’s holiness in your life is how much you give him credit and honor for his character and his work.  Think of it this way: you’ll talk someone’s ear off about the people you think are memorable or one-of-a-kind.

NOTE: you can find recordings of all of my discussed music by clicking on the My Music link at the right.

let me introduce you to n.t. wright…

I AM BACK!!
(and I’m not going anywhere for a while, either.)

So I have this friend.  Well, he’s not really my friend, but I wish he was.  I would call him my distant mentor.  He’s teaching me how to be philosophical, theological, and funny at the same time.  He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever read, and you should all read his stuff.  From what I’ve read of his, I’m willing to bet even money that you wouldn’t agree with his stance on a lot of things, but that’s okay; you don’t have to.

N.T. Wright is the bishop of Durham, England.  He’s made a fuss in the theological world over the past few years because he’s been saying some things that aren’t necessarily in line with the established order, but clearly in line with the message of the Bible, and some people don’t deal with difference or change very well.  This spring, I was introduced to him via his book, “Simply Christian,” a book where he walks readers through an explanation and a treatise of the Christian faith that I found moving and insightful; I highly recommend it.  Right now, I am reading his latest work, “Surprised By Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church,” and it’s changing my life.  How is this possible?  Let me be brief, but thorough.

The tagline after the title (Rethinking heaven, the resurrection, and the mission of the church) says it all.  The foundational thought is that the way you understand heaven and the resurrection of Jesus Christ will define how you view the mission of the church, and thus your mission as a follower of Jesus.  If I had to wrap up his thoughts in a statement, I would say this:

The resurrection’s primary implication is that Jesus has done in advance what will be done to all creation when heaven and earth finally meet; his resurrection was a model for our own.  Heaven is not the final resting place; it is, in fact, a “waiting room” of sorts; a place where God’s people reside with King Jesus until the day that the Creator brings heaven onto earth in its fullness and renews his creation.  Sin, and all of its related power and oppression, will be defeated, with death itself being the last enemy to be conquered.  The defeat of death will signify the bodily resurrection of God’s people and the new creation of the cosmos, where God will be physically present and his image-bearing creatures will work with God in the fullness of their self-giving, other-loving relationship to demonstrate his great love to all of creation.  Until then, every follower of Jesus is to live in anticipation of such a reality by rejecting the sin Jesus has defeated and following the same Jesus who reigns over heaven and earth in the authority he’s been given by his Father.

Now, what does any of this have to do with art and beauty?  Everything.  Wright says this:

“We are committed to describing the world not just as it should be, not just as it is, but as - by God’s grace alone! - one day it will be.  And we should never forget that when Jesus rose form the dead, as the paradigm, first example, and generating power of the whole new creation, the marks of the nails were not just visible on his hands and feet.  They were the way he was to be identified.  When art comes to terms with both the wounds of the world and the promise of resurrection and learns how to express and respond to both at once, we will be on the way to a fresh vision, a fresh mission” (224).

Let me straighten this out for you.  Our hope for justice and shalom in this world should come from the fact that Jesus picked a fight with death, and he won.  If we believe that he was raised from the dead, then we believe that sin and death no longer have the power to define and oppress creation.  We believe that there is hope for redemption and renewal for the cosmos by the power and love of Jesus, and we believe that to be a reality RIGHT NOW.  I follow Jesus because he’s committed himself to doing that work and letting me help him out in whatever ways he sees fit.

And so if I follow Jesus, then as an image-bearing creation of the Father I should be committed to creating things that reflect the full reality of Jesus: born to live God’s love on earth, formerly hung, later resurrected, presently reigning and mediating the collision of heaven and earth (and the reception of justice and shalom).

My critique: most Christian art does not give you the impression that full-scale justice and shalom are on their way.  In fact, I would say that most Christian art doesn’t care about the collision of heaven and earth that seems imminent and understood by the vast majority of the New Testament.  Most of the worship songs I know of don’t have the ability to speak beyond personal salvation; writing such a song would amount to attempting to duplicate the Mona Lisa by drawing a black-and-white stick figure of a lady with eyes that follow you around the room.

I happen to think that God’s given a high calling to artists who know and love him.  We happen to be one of the clearer living reflections of the character of God on earth, as we hold the ability to bring things into existence through our imagination.  As such, we have the ability to demonstrate a fullness of his character by “painting pictures of Jesus” that are beautiful and whole.  People will know the character of the Creator by how and what his creation creates.  And so it is okay to write and express personal salvation, for that is part of the character of God.  However, personal salvation is a dollop of whipped cream that rests upon a beautiful pie.  The truth is, personal salvation is too small of a mission for God.  He’s going for the entire cosmos; and your salvation happens to be how he wants to save the rest of the world; so why would we have people sing and pray that this is all they need?  Why would we have people reflect on this as though it’s their key to heaven?

I think that art should make people excited about Jesus and the marriage of heaven and earth.  I think that art should move people to live as though such a marriage is imminent.  I think that art should tell the truth about Jesus.

I think I should get started…

for he is our peace.

This one’s pretty simple…
(click here for audio)

for he is our peace
in his flesh he’s made us one humanity
for he is our peace
by his blood he’s broken walls that divide us in hostility

you draw us all to yourself
you bring us all to your house
so we can know your love and praise your holy name
you draw us all to yourself
you bring us all to your house
so we can know your love and praise your holy name

This one comes directly from Paul’s correspondence to the churches in Ephesus, around AD60. In this particular part of the letter, his claim is that the gaping chasm between the chosen people of Israel and the foreigners has been bridged by Jesus’ death on the cross. He’s speaking directly into the potential temptation for Gentile Christians to feel inferior and separate from their Jewish Christian counterparts. They can look back on a collective past filled with alienation and lostness, and know that they look forward to the same intimacy with Jesus and fellow believers that has been made to Jewish believers. There is an equality of dignity, opportunity, and humanity that comes in the gospel, and the product is seen in the level of unity and community to which they are called.

I wrote this song after being in a discussion with some students about race and hearing the things that were said. I cannot remember all of what was said, but I remember feeling lost and separated in that room. I was lost in a sea of cultural majority, without my experience or my pain being spoken for, validated, advocated for. I felt so small, boxed in by the juxtaposition of some strong opinions and the desire not to shame my brothers and sisters. And as others interacted with comments in the room, the air was filled with subtle, yet painful misunderstanding, tension, and lingering questions everyone was afraid to ask. We were here to talk about race, but nobody was really talking. It made me think about this part of Paul’s letter precisely because of all the talk about breaking dividing walls and fellow citizens and one new man. We were (and we are) 4 different people, not seeking to give any glory to God for who he had made us to be, but seeking to exalt our cultural and ethnic stories because that’s the only way we know to interact with our culture.

But it’s really quite simple. Jesus Christ is one man, looking to turn us into one man, sharing one house, with the same ONE Father, Son, and Spirit. And so there’s no room for us to huddle together in our own ethnic bubbles because there’s no way that Jesus can do what He’s died to do if we’re stuck together in little mono-colored ballons.

When Paul says, “For he is our peace,” he’s talking about shalom. And for the Jewish people, they know how big that is. We translate it as “peace,” but apparently that’s a really watered down summary of the word. From what I understand, shalom implies a togetherness that comes from correct relationships; with people, with God, and with the other elements of creation. Peacefulness is how you can characterize those relationships, but what makes shalom is the complete interconnectedness demonstrated by the peaceful relationships between God, humanity, and nature.

I wrote this song because we need peace. The world needs peace, and the church needs peace. We hear it over and over again: “Sunday is the most segregated day of the week.” And as much as that may make us pause, I think it’s because we’re offended, and not because we’re moved to compassion. Because to stop the segregation on Sunday would mean to stop our racism and prejudice and stereotyping and fear from Monday-Saturday. And if the church won’t obey Jesus and lead our country into renouncing its xenophobia, then who will? We need peace. And that’s Jesus. His broken body on the cross signifies the creation of a salvation that crosses all ethnic and cultural bounds. His blood is the blood of God’s new covenant, available to any and all who believe in him.

Our current witness of Jesus tells people that he doesn’t care about the needy or the stranger, and that’s heresy. Our current witness of Jesus has him hating minorities and despising foreigners, and that’s unbiblical. Here I am, a minority in this country, trying to hear from Jesus that he loves me and has a purpose for my life, and our church is the first to say that I don’t, closely followed by the rest of society. Might you be able to see why I might write such a song? I wrote it for me. I wrote it to listen to when I feel like I’ve been sufficiently lied to and I need to hear the truth. I listen to it when people like Don Imus happen or things like the Jena 6 happen.

I listen to it when I feel like the reason that I decided to follow Jesus could simply be a pipe dream.