this is how it usually goes: i ask a friend, “have you ever seen project runway?” then, they stare at me incredulously before launching into a diatribe characterizing heidi klum’s tour de force as formulaic, cliche and cheap. i answer, “yeah.” (Pause) “isn’t it great?”

some of the best episodes are those that begin with the incomparable tim gunn announcing to this season’s crop of fashion impresarios that the next challenge will be a team one, resulting in the contestants’ exasperated sighs and exaggerated rolling of the eyes.

next, as the choosing of teams transpires, we listen to each of the contestants’ variations on the common fear that their unique artistic vision will be devastated if they find themselves paired with whomever has been branded this season’s fashion catastrophe.

you see, artists don’t often like working together.

this fact, i have discovered, surprises most people. they imagine that artists spend the vast majority of their time in the company of other artists, in hazy corners of out-of-the-way coffee shops enjoying high-minded conversation about art and culture while plucking away at faded guitars and composing poetry.

the truth is that most artists fit into one of two categories, neither of which is remotely reminiscent of a bohemian utopia. Most artists find themselves either consumed by their own vision or consumed by making a living.

the artist who is consumed by his or her own vision finds themselves isolated from other artists because the introduction of other ideas might pollute or stunt the development of that vision.

the artist who is consumed by making a living finds themselves isolated from other artists because his or her days are full of projects, deadlines and the business of the day.

but as human beings made in the image of God we are designed to operate within community. our creative God made each of us with unique gifts that are most radiant when used for co-operative creativity, but to see collaboration we must stop the cycle of arrogance and/or avarice long enough to hear God’s call to community.

stop, collaborate and listen. maybe vanilla ice was really on to something.

how do we, as artists, make room for collaboration? how do we release our vision for God’s vision of cooperation?

and even more, how do we make sure that our primary creative partner is the creator of all?

have you ever seen collaboration like this? have you ever been a part of it? what did it look like? what could it look like?

Too full of fear and prophecy to see
The revelation right in front of me
So sick and tired of trying to make the pieces fit
Cause it’s not what bearing witness is
(David Bazan)
But you, You’ve gone too far this time
You have neither reason nor rhyme
With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine
(Mumford & Sons)

Let’s face it. It’s hip to doubt.

Just take a look at the current indie music landscape.

Lately there’s been a swell of connection and intrigue over artists who have grown up Christian, become disenfranchised with their faith, and are now transcribing their complex conversations with God on vinyl and mp3s for a new generation to hear.  Artists like David Bazan and Mumford & Sonsare among the list of well-received musicians using their influence to fight through their inability to reconcile their questions with the God of the Bible. The result?  Some haunting, deeply poetic, thought-provoking, and beautiful songwriting. Props to these artists for capturing the dialogue between man and the Creator in such personal and relatable ways.

The tragedy is that they stay there…in the tension, in the unresolved, stuck in their doubt.  It alerts me because I believe their state of being doesn’t simply reflect a musical trend but embodies an entire generation of culture.

Let me say that doubt is an absolute necessity.  Historically, the church might have been better off had they embraced it a bit more. Instead, the bride has gotten hung up on theological details and debates making them non-negotiables for a successful marriage. I’m convinced our culture of grown-up church kids wouldn’t be as unsure as they are now had they been given the freedom to ask difficult questions in Sunday School.

Consider this, however: Doubt for the sake of more doubt is meaningless.

Doubt should inevitably lead to faith. That is its purpose. If there were nothing to doubt there would be nothing to find faith in.  One simply cannot exist without the other.

So, why are we so stuck as a culture? Why are our lyrics so entitled when they speak to the Creator? Why do we insist He explain himself (read Job 38-40)?

Some of this artistic expression is not only extremely healthy but incredibly biblical. Read the Psalms and you won’t get far before running into one of David’s tantrums with Dad. But if we remain in the tantrum, if we don’t move forward with faith and hope, if we don’t exhale our questions with radical expressions of bravery and trust, we have nothing to say for ourselves, nothing to point to. We’ve depleted the hope our world has in this generation and diminished ourselves down to a collective of insecure, cynical pessimists.

I’m not sure how it is for girls (you’ll have to fill me in with your comments) but I see this attitude in guys a lot.  We can’t figure out the world and why it’s so broken, why all the commandments we were told to follow when we were kids don’t seem to fit with how we’re wired to live as adults so we use our doubt and disappointment to get out of any responsibility and courage we should carry.  We cement ourselves in this ongoing argument with God blaming him for the very prisons He came to rescue us from. I know guys well into their thirties still living like 16 year olds, convinced they’ve been dealt a bad deal in life and God owes them. They’ve wasted years of courage, freedom, influence, and strength.  And that to me is incredibly, incredibly sad.

I desperately want to see our culture converse freely about the aspects of God they don’t understand. And I desperately want our culture to stand confident in the truth that they’ll never fully understand Him, embrace his mystery, and risk trusting his “other-ness.”

What would it look like for us to carry unexpected faith in a culture full of broken expectations?

I used to be a movie snob.

You know the type. We avoid the multiplex with its stadium seating and bourgeoise buckets of Diet Coke, opting instead for that little-known art house where they serve a mean espresso. As self-proclaimed cinephiles we feign ignorance of the latest summer blockbuster whilst trumpeting the merits of the recent foreign-language import we’ve “discovered.”

I’ve mostly recovered now from being an insufferable bore, but as I look back over that period of my life I’ve realized that I saw a lot of movies. Some of them were very good, and some of them were terrible. I now have innumerable images in my head, and there are many of them I wish I could forget.

You see, every time we settle in to watch a movie, we agree—whether consciously or not—to go to certain places in our imaginations. What I’ve often wondered is: Are some of those places better left unvisited? We make the same choice when we sit down to read a book, consider a painting, or visit the theater. Each of these art forms invite us into a journey in which they ask us to look at life from a new perspective, but are all of these journeys and perspectives of equal value?

I recently asked a friend of mine this same question, and he answered, “I’d go to hell and back for a good story.” He was willing to get pulled through miles and miles of metaphorical mud as long as it was in the service of a great narrative.

Whenever this subject is raised in Christian circles there is one verse that inevitably rears it’s discussion-squashing head. Without fail, some well-intentioned person will quote Philippians 4:8, “Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

Once this verse is uttered the result is usually an unspoken understanding that the issue may be laid to rest. After all, isn’t it clear that, for the Christian, his or her mind must be firmly and permanently directed toward thoughts about church, puppies, and The Chronicles of Narnia?

I tend to disagree.

If Christians are expected to exclusively engage in art that omits the messiness of life we’d have to avoid large portions of the Bible.

Remove the mentions of David and Bathsheba. Tear out the pages describing the worship of the golden calf. Forget about Ecclesiastes; it’s just too negative.

Such an understanding of Philippians 4:8 seems to be a gross oversimplification of the intention of scripture. But does that mean that we should be willing to go “to hell and back?” Will we bury our heads in the sand, or will we drag them through the gutter? Should we only listen to Christian music and watch Christian movies, or should we use the freedom we have in Christ to listen to and watch anything we want?

Is there a line we shouldn’t cross? Is there a standard we can use? How far is it too far?

You might be thinking that very thought right now…but, the truth is, you are. The dictionary defines an artist as, “a person having superior skill or ability, or who is capable of producing superior work.”

If God is a creative God, and we are made in His image, then we carry an imprint of that creativity with us in our humanity. Whether we’re a doctor, engineer, barista, mechanic, painter, musician, or administrative assistant, we each possess unique giftings and abilities that mirror the heartbeat of the Great Creator.

It isn’t so much about the fact that our drawing skills may peak at stick figures or our singing voices may be confused by some cats for a dinner invitation. It’s about the incredible realization that the elements that make you and I unique branch from the God whose roots were deeply planted in rich creative soil long before time began.

This is the God who created the universe with both purpose and beauty,

“Who stretches the heavens out like a canopy and spreads them out like a tent to live in, “

“Who brings out the starry host one by one and calls them each by name.” (Is. 40)

And we are his offspring! His story for humanity is our story for humanity.

When the doctor who visits Haiti decides to build a hospital using merely tents and the limited medical supplies available to heal the hopeless….he or she becomes an artist.

When the barista sees their customer not simply as another credit-card transaction but as a living, breathing work of art with a story to tell and finds creative ways to draw that story out each morning as they serve them their coffee….he or she becomes an artist.

It seems to me that there is no such thing as the mundane, only moments we fail to see God’s still, small voice speaking into them, breathing profound holiness.

I recently had a conversation with a friend who mentioned he sometimes feels he’s learned more about the character of God by listening to a Ryan Adams song than some worship songs he sang in church. Another friend recounted having a very spiritual experience listening to James Taylor while driving home from a road trip. Still another friend once proposed that an episode of The Simpsons displayed more theological truth than an episode of Touched By An Angel.

We seem to be surprised when God shows up in the spaces we don’t expect Him to. We anxiously await Him in our Christian sanctuaries, our Christian conferences, Christian bookstores, Christian youth rallies, Christian albums, and occasionally some films that star teen idols from 80’s sitcoms (though no one in particular comes to mind. I’m just generalizing here).

But if we have a correct theology of art and story we realize that the narrative of the gospel embeds itself into everything our souls connect with creatively. There’s no getting away from it. Not once does the Bible distinguish between the “sacred” and the “secular.” Instead, it teaches that everything was created to please God; it’s our sin that distorts it.

Think about your favorite stories. Whether they play out through films, television shows, novels, songs, etc, what are the main themes you resonate with most in each of them?

• Redemption
• Sacrifice
• Community
• True love
• Risk
• Bravery
• Conflict between good and evil
• A tension between how things are and how they should be

Sound familiar?

Author and theologian C.S. Lewis strongly believed that men and women made up narratives throughout history and continue to make them up because the essence of the gospel resonates with every human soul. He states, “[Regarding stories] We do not retreat from reality, we rediscover it. As long as the story lingers in our mind, the real things are more themselves…By dipping them in myth we see them more clearly.”

What are some unexpected places you’ve seen God show up?
What are some creative ways you’ve shared the gospel or seen the gospel shared?
What are some new ways we can creatively tell God’s story to a generation in desperate need of the truth?

Next Week: I’m not an artist so who cares?

Believe it or not, there was a time when the church set the standard for art and culture. During the age of the Renaissance, there were no movie theatres, concert venues, or art galleries. Instead there were cathedrals, beautiful depictions of God’s glory bursting at the corners with original music, visual art, and the latest technology.  People actually looked to the church for culture. Now, many seem to avoid it.

Take a step closer in history to the age of rhythm and blues. It’s likely you’d discover an uproar of unhappy Christians frustrated with “secular” artists who stole sounds and themes originally conceived by gospel churches and transported them into the worldly bars and night clubs of the 40’s and 50’s.

What once was a birthing place for culture now often settles to copy it. There are marketing firms, organizations, and consultants all over the country trying to make church look more appealing by dressing it up with what’s “mainstream.”

It’s our deep desire, however, to see the church become a place that once again fosters creativity, ingenuity, and originality, a space that invites people boldly into the knowledge that we serve a creative God, the world’s greatest storyteller.  We want to see a new generation of artisans, pioneers, and communicators develop a “kingdom imagination,” a longing to both tell and be God’s story to a world in desperate need of it.

Where do you see kingdom imaginations forming? How are God’s people telling his story uniquely and creatively?

What is your part to play?