Art.

  Something to be positive about.  Something to celebrate.  Something, I would like to argue, that has a concrete definition. 

I tried to begin this blog a few days ago, and here’s how I started: 

What is art?  Is it an expression of one’s emotions so that the abstract feelings inside someone come to the surface and are put down into something concrete and visible?  Is it creative communication of one’s ideas?  What is its purpose?  To make one feel good, to help one understand himself, to communicate truth, to teach a lesson, to have fun?  What a myriad of ideas are contained in this one little three-letter word! 

I’d been challenged to write a blog about art, but when I sat down to do it I got all befuddled and walked away more confused than I had started.   I was trying to define what I meant by the statement “art for art’s sake,” and wanted to point out that when the Christian artist waters down his art to promote Christianity, it quickly becomes offensive and hollow.  But I couldn’t find the words to express what I meant, and started implying things like that the gospel shouldn’t be central to what an artist does.  So should the gospel penetrate everything we do, every piece of art we create, or should we ignore the gospel to go for “pure art, for art’s sake”? 

Since that discouraging and confusing attempt at writing, I have been helped so much by H.R. Rookmaaker, who wrote a chapter at the end of Modern Art and the Death of a Culture[1] entitled “Faith and Art.”  He seemed to agree with my idea: “…art must never be used to show the validity of Christianity.”  But then he completes his paragraph with an aspect I had entirely missed: “Rather the validity of art should be shown through Christianity” (228).  He implies that art, in its truest sense, is never something that is contrary to the gospel.  Instead, the Truth we find in the pages of Scripture is what makes art true art.  The Truth of scripture is to every area of life what water is to the oak tree.  Water not only draws the roots of the tree deep into the earth, securing the tree to the ground, but also reaches up and flows into every branch, every joint, every leaf, nourishing them and giving them life.  Even the most outwardly autonomous branch, the one that grows down rather than up, only remains a live branch when the water is flowing through it.  Thus, even art, which by all appearances defies the boundaries of truth and tangibility, is only truly art when it finds its source in Truth. 

Good art, therefore, must be in compliance with Truth and reality.  And a Christian artist should be the best at creating that type of art, because he has access to the Source of all Truth (Creator God), and His infallible Word. 

Rookmaaker says it well again:

 …Christian art is not art that uses biblical or other Christian themes.…No, what is Christian in art does not lie in the theme, but in the spirit of it, in its wisdom and the understanding of reality it reflects.  Just as being a Christian does not mean going round singing hallelujah all day, but showing the renewal of one’s life by Christ through true creativity, so a Christian painting is not one in which all the figures have haloes and (if we put our ears to the canvas) can be heard singing hallelujahs (228).

So my challenge to the Christian artist, and to myself as a Christian-writer-artist, is this: portray reality.  Create, and write about, only what is True.  Be careful of distorting reality to make Christianity, or life, more attractive.  Beware of the Thomas Kinkade-style of art that gives the false message: the Christian life is like a comfortable cottage with a fireplace and a river flowing by, worry-less and trouble-free.  Paint things that are beautiful, but that are beautiful because they are real.  The way Jesus loves us is the most beautiful thing in the world, but that doesn’t mean we should paint Him on the cross scar-less and blood-free.  Often it is pain and suffering that makes a thing beautiful – don’t ignore those things. 

Art for art’s sake?  Art in its truest form, adhering to the rules of reality and Truth.  Art that stems from the Truth rather than utilitarian art that thrashes in the dark to teach morality.

 

Christian art is nothing special.  It is sound, healthy, good art.  It is art that is in line with the God-given structures of art, one which is good and true (Rookmaaker 228).

Art has a meaning as art because God thought it good to give art and beauty to humanity (230).

It would be false to say that art is only good if it promotes Christianity.  That would be a perverted kind of utilitarianism. 

If we are going to use art for these specifically Christian purposes – adorning a church, or attracting the unbeliever – then we must see that the art we use is really good.

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[1] H.R. Rookmaaker, Modern Art and the Death of a Culture (Wheaton: Crossway Books, 1973), 225-52

Just before I left Sheffield, through all my excitement and the anxiety of returning to what has now become a somewhat foreign home, I heard my friend Alex talking.  He was telling me I should keep records of what differences I observed in the two cultures that have now become contenders for my affections.  He said I should take notes as I re-adjusted to life in America, and I should write a manual for American Christians like me who move to England.

Well, I’m not so sure I will go so far now as writing a manual for people like me, but I certainly want to write about some things I’ve observed – perhaps for more selfish reasons, like for my own ability to process what I’ve experienced. 

I’m missing Sheffield quite a bit after being gone for just over a month.  Yes, a big part of that has to do with the fact that Duncan is there, but even when he came here for two weeks at Christmas, I missed being there with him.  What is it that I miss so much?  Well, I’ve made a list:

Christ Church Endcliffe.  I’ve never been so involved in any church as I am at CCE, nor have I been even a small part of a church with such freshness and excitement to serve God’s people and follow His leading.  The friendships I have formed there have meant more to me than I can say.  With those people I have experienced the truest Christian fellowship I’ve ever known.

Duncan.  I know I already mentioned that, but he should still make the list. 

Walking.  Going to work every day, I walked.  Going to church, I walked.  Going shopping, I might take the bus, but I’d do a lot of walking too.  It was always a treat, not an expectation, to get a “lift” somewhere.  In America, walking is a treat – something I have to take time to do.  If I have time, I will go on a walk, which usually means a loop or two around the neighborhood.  To walk to actually get somewhere is quite difficult, since even when I do find a place close enough to walk to, the sidewalks (“footpaths”) are quite insufficient.  I love the thought that this one thing I found especially difficult when I first arrived in England has become one of my favorites about the place!

Currys.  Believe it or not, Indian food is almost, if not more, popular in the UK than traditional English food.  Wikipedia, after listing fish and chips, roast beef, and English breakfast as the national dishes of England, includes this disclaimer: “However, chicken tikka masala has been popularly referred to as ‘Britain’s true national dish…’ (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_dish).  Instead of bringing Chinese or pizza home for a relaxing night in, my housemates and I would alternate between fish & chips and a good curry.

Pubs.  I’ve never been a frequenter of bars in the US – in fact, I don’t recall ever even going to one unless it includes some good food.  But the pubs in England almost replace coffee shops.  To go out with a group of friends for drinks is one of our biggest pastimes.  But not everyone drinks alcoholic beverages – it’s the homey atmosphere of the pubs that draws us in.

Tea & Biscuits.  You can buy good English tea here in America, but there’s nothing like being served a good “cuppa”  in every home you visit.  Not to serve tea first thing is an appalling cultural faux pas.  Several times I would go from house to house in an afternoon and evening, and would get my fair share of tea and biscuits!

Simplicity.  I didn’t notice it as much going from here to there, but upon returning here again I realized just how consumerist America is.  The variety of options from cereals to parking spaces is overwhelming.  I went into Harris Teeter (affectionately dubbed “Harris Tweeter” by my English boyfriend!) so I could write down all the different sorts of Cheez-Its there are.  I could buy Hot & Spicy, White Cheddar, Baby Swiss, Pepper Jack, Cheddar Jack, Parmesan & Garlic, or Four Cheese.  But those are just the different flavors.  There was also Scrabble Junior Cheez-Its with a letter on each cracker, Toy Story Cheez-Its with characters on them, Cheez-It Snack Mix, Cheez-It Snack Mix with Double Cheese, BIG Cheez-Its, and Reduced Fat Cheez-Its.  And of course, I could either buy the ordinary size or the Family Size.  In the end, I decided to forego the Cheez-Its for a jar of curry sauce to make Chicken Tikka Masala.

Love of Nature.  I used to think Americans loved nature, but I’ve come to think of it as a love of the idea of nature.  Love it if it’s not too hot, not too cold, not too rainy.  In England, as I mentioned above, the options are much more limited.  Usually, it is rainy.  Yet the English go out to work in their beautiful, cultivated gardens, or to take a hike over the hills of the Peak District, or to have a barbeque with friends, regardless.  I’ve learned to love that about them.

Less Busyness.  This one’s not so immediately obvious, and it could have more to do with the personality of my church family, but I do believe that people have more time for each other in England.  Yes, everyone is quite busy, working long hours and all that, but they still manage to have each other “around” much more often than what I’ve experienced in America.

So how’s that for “what I miss about Sheffield?”  Maybe it’s all of those things together that have made me love it, or maybe it’s the change of heart that God has given me, as if He’s decided to bless me with a love for a new “home.”

And yet I still love so much about my “home” here in America.  I love (sometimes) the freedom of having a car and being able to drive it anywhere, anytime.  I love the more relaxed atmosphere of the coffee shops and bookshops here – there are no Barnes and Nobles in England, and even Starbucks somehow feels different.  I love the big backyards (or should I say “gardens?”) with all their tall trees and birds.  All year I missed watching birds from my window.  I miss Mexican restaurants, and Olive Garden and Chili’s.  I especially miss the sunshine.  Just now I’m sitting in a nice quiet Starbucks, in a comfy seat by the window with the sun on my back.  That doesn’t happen often in England. 

Most of all, I love having my family close by.  Yesterday I did some things at home and around town, and then when I was finished I drove to my sister’s house to hang out with her and the kids.  She needed to go to the store, so I stayed with the kids to let her go without them.  Last week I drove up into the North Carolina mountains to stay a few days with my other sister and family.  I played with the kids and read them hundreds of books.  I had good chats with my sister and brother-in-law.  I’ve been going with Mom to take my grandmother Mimi out for lunch once a week, and just the other night I stayed up by the fire chatting with Dad about life.  What a blessing all of that is!  I love the freedom to do it all, plus to go visit my friends from college.  At the New Year Duncan and I drove to Atlanta to see a friend of mine, and in the next couple of weeks I’ll probably go to Columbia and Raleigh to see more people. 

I thank God for the wonderful things about both of my “homes,” and I pray that He would help me be content in whichever one He has me at any given time.

People nowadays assume that any writing is good writing.  As long as you get your thoughts on paper, and as long as you believe in what you’ve written, it is beautiful.  Doesn’t matter if what you write is a bunch of rubbish, a plethora of words strung together to make sentences that are somehow meant to convey the feelings you have inside, to communicate that you do actually think on some sort of spiritual plane, to communicate that you somehow find meaning in this life of meaninglessness.  Meaning in what?  Doesn’t matter, as long as the meaning’s there. Feelings based on what?  Nothing, except of course your own reactions to the circumstances of life.

I went to a writers’ workshop this morning called “The Gift of Memoir.”  It opened my eyes to a lot of stuff, but surprisingly not mostly stuff about writing.  It was stuff about people, and how people just want to be happy, and to use writing to make themselves happier…and God too.  One lady, probably the one who talked the most “spiritually” about things, said it in just so many words:  “I want my writing to help me sort through things in life, and to find comfort.  And God too…don’t want to leave God out.”  Another lady said, “I just feel so much happier when I’ve been writing!” 

Isn’t that just what we say about God?  “I just have such a better day when I’ve done my quiet time in the morning!” 

The teacher of the workshop, an exuberant, artsy woman, sent us away with a short piece she had written about her own lack of common sense.  After describing how she got out of a tight spot just by chance, she ends the piece like this: “And how could I not believe, forever after, that some kind of grace blesses those up to their elbows in good intentions, if not good sense?”  I dare to guess that she would expect someone like me, a Bible College graduate and a Christian worker, to read God into this statement.  For the atheist in her class, however, it would be okay to just read it as a lucky happenchance.  Now I could be wrong about her – I don’t know her, and I understand that we shouldn’t always be pushing the gospel and using art as the means to that (I believe in art for art’s sake and all that).  But I believe this is the way so many Americans think today.  Be spiritual, believe in something – anything – think good thoughts, and all will be right with the world.

Now back to the issue I raised just before.  I see people frantically grabbing for happiness, and using anything from writing to some vague belief in God to find it, and I don’t see Jesus.  I see people, and I see myself, because I do it too.  I look more like the world in its race for happiness than I look like Jesus, the humble servant who wanted nothing more than to do the will of His Father.  We are so stuck on ourselves that we don’t even know it.  Even Christians live their whole lives trying to make themselves happy, putting their own little kingdoms above God’s and using Christian words and activities to cover it up. 

Last night I finished a book called Shattered Dreams by Larry Crabb.  He sets forth the beautiful but hard-to-hear truth that God often allows our dreams to be shattered – the happiness we grasp for to escape us – just so we will realize that what we really desire and need is Him.  We too often assume that God wants us happy and comfortable.  We flippantly quote Psalm 37:4 – “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”  But like we so often do, we forget the first part of the verse in favor of the more comforting latter half.  Yes, God will give us our hearts desires, if He is our desire.  On this earth that does not always mean happiness and comfort.  In the life to come, joy in our God will mean eternal happiness, but not now.  So “let us lay aside every weight (of our selfish desires for happiness), and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus (and running straight toward Him and for Him), the founder and perfecter of our faith (the One who has already done it for us)” (Heb. 12:2, with my own notes).

I want to be a good writer, and I want the best part of my writing to be that it conveys the truth – truth about how difficult life may be and how good God is in the midst of the difficulties.  I don’t want my purpose in writing to be feeling better any more than I want to pursue God so that He will make me happier.  I can easily write emotional or sentimental words, but I hope and pray that as I continue writing more and more I will focus on the Truth, for it is the truth that will set us free.

Here is a review of Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas that I wrote for CLC World:

I work in the CLC bookshop in Sheffield, and when Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy first made it onto our New Titles shelf I couldn’t keep my eyes off it.  It’s a huge book – 542 pages – and from the cover the black and white photo of Bonhoeffer’s spectacled face stared at me and drew me to pick it up and flip through its pages.  Thus I began the journey through the life of the WWII hero whose book Life Together I had studied in Bible College.  The life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer is truly a controversial one.  Metaxas relates to the reader with perceptive detail the thought-life that led a pastor and teacher to become actively involved in the conspiracy to assassinate Hitler.  It is the combination of Bonhoeffer’s brilliance, originality of thought, love, and dedication to God’s Word and work which creates the conviction that to remain silent during such a tyrant’s rampage would be defiant disobedience of God’s will.  The reader of this book will come to understand and appreciate – though not necessarily agree with – Bonhoeffer’s zeal, and at the same time will understand just how terrible the Holocaust and the mind behind it were.

When asked, after the first few months of my time in England, what I’d learned so far from the experience, or how I was feeling about the beginning of my year-long adventure, it wasn’t too difficult to answer.  As I look back over the year, I can see different stages of learning and growing, different levels of comfort and homesickness, and different groups of people I’ve spent my time with.  As it has all added up to form a year of missionary work in a foreign country, the clear lines that defined the different periods have blurred, so that I see one great big mass of lessons learned, experience gained, and friendships grown.  So bear with me as I try to amalgamate the experience into a few short paragraphs!

One of the lessons I’ve learned (or begun to learn) has been an overarching one: that of dependence on God.  Whether I’ve been struggling with my finances, missing the security of familiarity, or trying to find people to fill those voids in my life that were created when I left my family and friends, I’ve had one Person to turn to.  And I have always found Him faithful.  It’s a beautiful thing, I’m beginning to see, when God allows us to become uncomfortable enough with our circumstances to depend on Him.  It’s in the midst of those rough winds, when the ship is out of our control, that we are able to let God have the control He’s always had and steer us safely into His will, where we are abundantly provided for.  He’s provided money when I’ve run out, a home while I’ve felt so far from home, and loving friends when I’ve been so lonely.  But He always lets me get a little bit uneasy, so that when He blesses me I know it’s His work. 

Some things can’t necessarily be called “lessons,” though they involve learning.  Working in the bookshop has taught me a lot just through all the experience it’s given me.  I have enjoyed learning about the administration of a shop: how things run, what a bookshop looks like behind the scenes.  I love being involved in all the little details, from figuring out what suppliers provide what books to counting the cash at the end of each day.  And of course, I’ve learned a lot about people.  I’ve learned that people in England are not really that much different from people in America, except for the subtle variations that are difficult to put a finger on.  Everywhere there are customers who will be difficult, but there are also those who will surprise you with a blessing: a customer buys me a book, or asks me to tea, or gives a timely word of encouragement.  Truth be told, I think that I have been blessed, by customers and many others, much more than I have been a blessing.  I praise God for taking care of me, and showering His love upon one so undeserving!

I’ve always loved reading, and working in a Christian bookshop has provided the opportunity to find and read books that I would not necessarily have known about otherwise.  A lot of the growth I’ve experienced this year has been through books.  Let me recommend a few of the ones that made a big impact on me.

Surprised by the Power of the Spirit, Jack Deere

Having grown up in a very non-charismatic environment, I didn’t know quite how to take it when I came to England and started attending a slightly Pentecostal church.  I began to wrestle with questions like Does God really want us to ask Him for physical healing? Do people really have a word from God when they prophesy?  In his book, Jack Deere tells of his own journey from being a staunch cessationist to being a great believer in the gifts of the Spirit.  He addressed my questions well, and explains clearly the difference between manipulative spiritual appearances and true manifestations of God’s Spirit in us.  Underneath all he says lies the bedrock of the Truth of God’s Word, and it was because he showed how Spiritual revelation and Scriptural revelation are not contrary to each other, but rather complementary, that I was able to open my eyes to this new way of thinking.  I recommend this book for cessationists, charismatics, and everyone in between – it offers biblical perspective and a good sense of balance in this area.

A Sweet and Bitter Providence, John Piper

I didn’t expect to be so blessed by the story of Ruth as I was when I read Piper’s new book on it.  He is able to look through the ancient narrative to see and communicate the universal truths that apply so directly to us today – the agony of loss and the bitterness that can grow out of it, the limited perspectives we have that makes circumstances seem hopeless, and the beauty and glory of God’s ultimate plan to bless us through – not in spite of – trying times.  And along the way to seeing God’s wonderful providence, the reader is challenged to a “God-saturated” and sexually pure life by the examples of Ruth and Boaz.  I think this book can be a great blessing to anyone struggling with difficult circumstances or needing a fresh reminder of what godly characters look like.

Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis

A few summers ago I decided to become a self-named “C.S. Lewis scholar.”  Somehow I missed this beautifully written autobiography about Lewis’ intellectual journey from secular academia to a belief in Spirit, and finally to belief in Christ as God’s Son and his Savior.  This final conversion, however, comes only at the very end of the book.  Lewis reveals to his readers in great detail the awkward, sometimes lonely boyhood he led, when he spent his time with his books and the creation of the history of Animal-Land.  He tells of the literature and people that impacted him most, among them George MacDonald’s fairy tale Phantases and Lewis’ college tutor nicknamed The Great Knock.  Although Lewis would later marry a woman called Joy Davidson, the joy he now wrote of was a momentary, sublime feeling of longing and hope that would come over him at the most surprising of times.  What he longed for he never knew, until perhaps he came to know his Savior and felt a fulfillment he’d never known.  Anyone who has loved or appreciated the works of Lewis should read this to see the development of the mind behind it all.

Sometimes it’s easy to wonder if there really is any difference between me, as a Christian, and the rest of the world.  We Christians tend to talk as if people will automatically be able to tell that we’re different.  We are called, after all, the “set apart” ones (Rom. 1:1; Gal. 1:15,).  Non-believers are to know that we are disciples by the profound love we have for each other (Jn. 13:35).  I can’t deny that as a Christian I have great potential, through the power of the Spirit who lives in me, to be one of the most selfless, sacrificial, and servant-hearted people the world has seen. 

But the truth is, I’m not.  The truth is, I often feel like the most selfish, demanding, and needy person I have ever met.  I am a child of God, and He loves to bless me, and I love to receive His gifts.  But I also love to complain about the things He doesn’t give me that I think I deserve.  I love to take the things He gives me and run with them, forgetting Him who is the Giver.  I have “exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man…and worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator” (Rom. 1:23, 25, ESV). 

Not only have I taken the greatest gifts God has given me and ignored God Himself, but – perhaps as a result – I have failed to find my joy and contentment in Him alone.  I have found myself looking to so many things for happiness – relationships, books, writing, church.  And when I am disappointed, I drown in my despair.  I have been comforted by the psalmist’s words many times:  “Why are you in despair, O my soul?  And why have you become disturbed within me?  Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him, the help of my countenance and my God” (Ps. 42:11, NASB). 

And therein lies what I believe is the difference between me and the me I would be without my God.  I shall yet praise Him.  I may not be praising Him now.  I may not be acting like a Christian now.  I may be the most selfish, cold-hearted person in the world.  But I have a hope not in my ability to make myself a better person – believe me, I’ve tried it! – but in the promise of the God who searches my heart and knows my thoughts (Ps. 139:23).  Jesus Christ is the “author and perfecter of [my] faith” (Heb. 12:2).  “He who calls [me] is faithful; he will surely do it” (1 Thess. 5:23).  What a wonder that I, the sinner that I am, have the sign and seal of Jesus Christ Himself living in me!  And that is what makes me different.

So, when I am in the depths of despair because I can’t live up to my own expectations, I must remember that He is growing me.  Like Dr. Layman taught us in his Progress of Redemption lectures, God grows things, and He is not in a hurry.  When I get frustrated that I don’t have the energy to serve people as much as I want to, I must remember that one day I will never get tired, and it will be a joy to serve all the time!  When I’m not the support I long to be for Duncan, I must remember Him who is my Support, and who is making me more and more like Him every day.  And no matter how I’m feeling, and how much I feel like a worthless fool, I must remember that I can have hope because “I will again praise Him for the help of His presence” (Ps. 42:5).

So, fellow Christian, will you remember these things too?  When you remember with despair that you are no better than your decadent neighbor, will you choose to remember Whose you are, and that in Him you are already perfect and as white as snow?  Only through Him will you ever become the person you were made to be, and only in Him will you ever find true contentment.

 “I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.”    Psalm 27:13, NASB

Do we all live in two worlds – one a dream and the other reality?  Or is it just me who enjoys life until I remember my dreams and am swept away to a far-away land, where the sun always shines on my face and the fields are bursting with wildflowers, and my hair is soft and straight and blowing in the gentle breeze?  In that world I am a writer, and I write beautiful things that inspire people.  But mostly in that world are all the pieces of my past that have gone away from my present reality.  The mornings spent in the comfort of my living room, while the sun blazes into the big eastern window to warm me as the air conditioner keeps me cool, drinking coffee and reading about Heaven, and having no cares in the world except to get to the park for an afternoon walk in the woods.  The naps on the floor in front of the fire at Christmastime, with a little boy sleeping beside me.  The long drives down the highway with the windows rolled down and the music turned up.   The neighborhood walks with my housemates, just before the sun goes down.  The dreams and the big horizons ahead. 

Why is it that we are never satisfied with the present?  Why do memories seem so much better when they are memories than while they were happening?  I have so many memories, and I want them back.  So I will go back to where they came from, but it will all be different.  Those memories are gone.  The way I was is gone.  Never again will I be the American girl who’s never been to England.  I have been to England, and lived in it, and – perhaps – grown to love it.  But what if I don’t want to love England?  What if I want to go back to America, to stay in the past that was America, and continue life the way it was? 

It can’t be done.  I have come, and I will go back a different person.  I must choose to welcome the new things in life, and to love them and embrace them, so that when one day they are memories, I will not regret having lost them, but will always be content in my present reality.

We’ve all heard it said, I think, that we become like our friends.  For those of us who are Christians, that often means one thing: we should stay away from friendships with non-Christians.  Talk to them enough to get a little bit of the gospel into their heads, but be careful not to get too up-close and personal with them or you might get some of their message into your head.  You wouldn’t want their dirtiness soiling your nice “new creation” exterior.   But just how close is too close?  Should we avoid all interaction with “outsiders” save what’s absolutely necessary, or should we just disregard the spiritual state of our friends altogether and do whatever it takes to enjoy the friends we have?

It’s true – the Bible does warn Christians against getting too mixed in with the world.  How many times did the people of Israel go astray when they became too close to their neighboring nations?  In Deuteronomy 23 Moses lists the kinds of people who could not be part of the Lord’s assembly – no Ammonites or Moabites were allowed because they had opposed the Israelites by sending Balaam to curse them.  The NIV translates verse 6 this way: “Do not seek a treaty of friendship with them as long as you live.”  Harsh.  These people were mean to you, so you should never forgive them or try to be their friend.

And it’s not just the Old Testament.  Paul writes to the Corinthians: 

Do not be bound together with unbelievers; for what partnership have righteousness and lawlessness, or what fellowship has light with darkness?  Or what harmony has Christ with Belial, or what has a believer in common with an unbeliever? (2 Cor. 6:14-15, NASB)

The KJV famously translates it, “Do not be unequally yoked together with unbelievers.”  Most often, it seems, this passage is quoted concerning marriage between a believer and an unbeliever.  I agree that the word “partnership” here implies a formal or legal contract between two people that would not be necessary even in a close friendship.  But the point can still be taken: there is a vast discrepancy between the basic thought structure of a Christian and that of a non-Christian.

The warning bells are ringing.  It can be dangerous to be so close to and vulnerable with someone so fundamentally different.  King Solomon started off his reign as the wisest of men, but his relationships to 1,000 foreign women led him so far astray that he ended his life in misery and despair.

But we musn’t let those bells ring so loud in our ears that we turn to run the other way for fear of becoming corrupted.  Rather than becoming afraid of people, we need to remember that people is all they are, just like us, God’s creation just like we are, sinners just like we are.  And the only difference between us and them is the thing we too often try to withhold from them: friendship.  Jesus said, “No longer do I call you slaves…but I have called you friends” (Jn. 15:15, NASB).  The Pharisees were disgusted with Jesus because of how much He hung out with sinners.  They asked His disciples, “Why do you eat and drink with the tax collectors and sinners?” (Lk.  5:29).  We need to realize that we were those tax collectors, gluttons, drunkards, prostitutes.  Jesus didn’t become friends with us because we were pretty cool and He wanted to make us even cooler.  We were His enemies, yet He loved us, and His love transformed us to make us His friends.  Let us not take advantage of His grace that saved us from our prostitution, lest we become Pharisees instead, looking down on the prostitutes as if we were any better.

I say all this because I have been thinking a lot lately about my own relationships.  I haven’t had many friendships with non-Christians in my life, and I really regret it.  I don’t think it’s so much because I shunned non-Christians as it is because I’ve not often been in places conducive to interaction with them.  I’ve been a PK, an MK, a home-school kid, a Christian school graduate and a Bible College student.  Now I’m a missionary working in a Christian bookshop.  How does that work, exactly?  Ironic, isn’t it, how easy it is for us to get all closed up inside our little Christian bubbles, even when we’re missionaries with the purpose of furthering God’s kingdom?  Ironic and sickening.  Hypocritical.  Pharisaical. 

I’ve realized recently that I probably had more potential to show people Jesus while I was working at a coffee shop in Columbia than I have had here.  At least there I was in the world, among people who didn’t know Jesus.  Jesus told us to be in the world but not of it, but it seems like we have interpreted it as “Create a world of your own in which you can protect yourself from the outside world.” 

Lately I’ve had a few good conversations with some of my Christian friends who have close relationships with non-Christians.  They always make me jealous.  What a privilege we have to be able to extend that same gift of friendship Christ extended to us!  My Christian friends often feel bad that they don’t verbally share the gospel with their friends as much as they think they should, but I try to make them see how beautiful it is that they just are the gospel to those people.  They are Christ, and what better way to show Christ to people than to be Christ, and to let them see you?  Not on some superficial level, where they see how good or how nice you are.  But to reach the level where they know you, they know what makes you tick and how you think, and they can see how you’re learning and growing, and hopefully they can tell that those things are supernatural, that there is Someone in you who makes you so beautiful, and that that sort of beauty is offered to them through your friendship with them.

A friend today said she has a close group of friends who are not at all interested in God, but who she gets along with and enjoys time with so much.  What better way to make someone interested in the Beautiful One than to be His presence among them?  To laugh with them because of the joy of Christ in you, to cry with them because of His compassion.  Let us do it in such a way, Lord, that they cannot help but breathe in the sweet fragrance of Your love and know it is Yours, and it is theirs for the taking.  Give us the strength to keep from becoming like them, and the grace to make them want to be like us.

 

Oil and perfume make the heart glad,

So a man’s counsel is sweet to his friend.

Proverbs 27:9

 

When I go home I’m going to just sit in Mom and Dad’s La-Z-Boy and be with my family.  To exist among them will in itself be deeply satisfying.  To be there as Mom sits on the couch and folds our clothes (even mine!) and as Dad pecks on the keyboard around the corner.  To watch Joel and Evan watching cartoons, Samuel carrying around an armload of trucks and Alyssa squirming in her daddy’s arms.  To notice how much different Lydia is, and to watch her closely so that I can know her after being away for more than half her life. 

I’ll stare at the new members of our family – at Josiah in disbelief that there’s such a big boy in our family I’d never met, and at Baby Cail.  And I’ll imagine what it would have been like to be there when they were born.  Where would I have been?  Would I have travelled far to the hospital and waited, like I’ve done almost five times before?  Would I have been the first to hold them?  I’ll remember what it was like when Joel was born and Susan and I fought over who would hold him first.  I think I won that time, but she’ll have blown me out of the water with Josiah – she’ll have been holding him for four months before I’ll get my first chance!

I’ll ask Dad to make me scrambled eggs with cottage cheese every morning, and I’ll go swimming with Mom and let her teach me her new game – tennis.  We’ll play Table Scrabble after dinner.  I’ll have my coffee with half & half and eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Life for breakfast.  We’ll go to Chick-fil-a and Olive Garden, the whole mob of us, and we’ll be chaotic and loud and annoy the server, but I will love it.

I’ll drive to Columbia and listen to my music with the windows down.  In Charlotte it’ll be 102.9, in Columbia 93.5, and in the middle of nowhere my Garden State soundtrack, burned in reverse order compliments of Laura’s Mac.  I’ll go to CIU and mourn every little change.  I’ll see the fire-damaged library where I once sat for hours studying John and Romans out of “Little Kittel.”  I’ll see the construction taking place in the spot I once lived, the absence of the house outside of which I had my first kiss.  Everywhere I’ll go around town will haunt me with memories of love.  The little pond where we sat in the back of his truck and I said I would follow him anywhere.  Irmo Park, where we planned our wedding day.  The Wal-Mart where he bought me Todd Fish and, after him, Todd Jr.  He bought me the membership to Saluda Shoals, but most of the time I spent there I was alone, missing him and dreaming of England.

I’ll take a book to Barnes and Noble to read, and wish Kim wasn’t in Spain so she could meet me there.  I’ll think about taking a book when I go to Cool Beans too, but I’ll know I won’t be able to concentrate.  My heart will beat fast as I push open the lime green door, check the bin behind it for dishes, and climb up the creaky stairs.  I’ll look behind the counter to see who’s working, hoping to see Mike or Kat, Marleigh or Rachel or Kitty.  I’ll know Daniel won’t be there, but I’ll sure wish he was.  I’ll order a Mediterranean Panini and a Perfect Woman to drink, remembering how cheap they were when I got them for half price.  I can’t say what I’ll feel beyond nostalgia for happy days gone by.

I’ll drive by the first church I’d become a member of independently, right before leaving it.  I might stop and play in the playground where once I played with the children.  And I’ll pay a visit to 658 Glenthorne Road, affectionately dubbed Gryffindor by the boys who came to eat, play, and watch movies with us.  None of the four of us live in Columbia anymore, so I’ll gather them all, along with the “stray cats,” and we’ll drive to the beach for the day, because we can.  I’ll sit in the hot sun and let my heart be content.  Maybe I’ll get sunburned. 

Probably, I will think of England and of the wet, dreary days and the long, early morning walks to work.  I’ll think of my friends from Germany and Finland, and the people at church and those in the bookshop.  I will miss them, but I will be so glad to be home.  And I will probably write something else then, about how wonderful life was when I was in England.

I recently read a book called Faith to Faith by Dan Scott about understanding and responding to different worldviews as an evangelical Christian.  In his conclusion, Scott gave a very clear challenge to the Church, encouraging us to know who it is that we are trying to attract and to what they are attracted.  Here are some paragraphs from his last chapter:

When people decide that God may exist, they become hungry to meet Him.  At this point, people will not care about the cultural context in which God shows up.  If people really believe that God will be there, they will go to any sort of church and listen to any kind of music.  The cultural package becomes a peripheral issue at best when one really becomes a seeker after God.

But people are seeking for God and not merely a connection with people who claim to follow Him.

To call a person a seeker then is to imply that he is searching for something.  So we must not only define seekers, we must determine what the seekers are seeking.  One can search for fine cuisine, for a way to reconcile general relativity theory with particle mechanics, for a love-crazed turkey on the first day of the hunting season, or for toothpaste at Target.  Seekers after God want God; they are not primarily after a better light show or gourmet coffee.  If a church builds its infrastructure around offering better coffee, it will attract those who want better coffee.  Newcomers may accept the coffee and gather at the church that offers it.  They will not necessarily meet God, however, because that was not what was being offered. 

It is deeply offensive to us to realize that many of the most serious seekers in our culture have been passing us by.  They are unmoved by our lattes and our rock bands.  They have concluded that the resurrected Christ, whose cross we have removed in order to make the seekers comfortable, is not present in many of the churches that confess Him. 

Many of these seekers have been moving on to other religions of the world, where they are offered a new way of life, an experience of presence and up-front declaration of otherness that separates them from the culture of secularism.  We need to understand why this is happening.  We must allow it to shock us into a fresh encounter with the presence of God, offered through the Word made flesh, the study of the Holy Scripture, and the sacramental grace of the gathered people of covenant.