“How much time have we wasted trying to make ‘bigger and better’ or ‘slicker and sweeter’ messages instead of just being the messengers?” – Betty Spackman
The above quote comes from an article titled “Play Time: Finding the Freedom to Imagine and Explore” by author and installation artist Betty Spackman. After reading this article, particularly this quote, and after countless conversations with friends of all backgrounds and faiths, I have found myself wondering about the ways we use or don’t use art in the church. And as artists, are we, as Spackman suggests, the messengers who simply bring the message or are we instead, producing something that might be considered more commercial than spiritual? Or is there some other choice that cannot be seen at first glance?
As artists in the church (video production people, producers, dancers, musicians, singers, speakers, pastors, etc.), we all share the responsibility of creatively communicating the gospel. From my vantage point, I see that far too much art in the church is being used as a utility, which tends to force the gospel into a work of art rather than letting the work of art release the gospel. After all, if we believe that all truth draws us closer to God, then perhaps by simply telling a story authentically we might actually do a better job reflecting the truth of the gospel than if we were to try to give a work of art some kind of “Christian spin.”
For example, Spackman’s quote is in response to a story she tells about a Christian theatre group who had put on a production of Thumbelina. The group had gone to great lengths attempting to turn the Thumbelina story into a parable about Christ. The actual story is about how a butterfly loses his life while rescuing a little girl. Spackman recalls, “At rehearsals we found we were very good at portraying the evil crows and the lusty frog but very bad at portraying the innocence and beauty of the child and the butterfly. It all came across as unbelievable, stupid and sentimental—a kind of shallow ‘feel good’ fable that was neither good theatre nor a true representation of Christianity.”
She goes on to tell of one possible solution, which would have been to drop the evangelical spin all together and just tell the story with truth and authenticity. This tension abounds in our churches every week and in meetings leading up to Sunday morning, when we must decide just how to implement a creative element or moment. All of this takes us back to Spackman’s quote, “How much time have we wasted trying to make ‘bigger and better’ or ‘slicker and sweeter messages’ instead of just being the messengers?”
As artists in and out of the church, I believe it is our task to be messengers. And yet most of you reading this are charged with creating and producing nearly 52 services a year. As an artist, I would love to challenge you to create with reckless abandon. But I also realize how that might be terribly unhelpful advice concerning the weekly task of producing a service. My belief is that the answer lies not in swinging one way or the other. Instead, you must be both an artist and a producer. You must hold both.
Often, as artists in the Church, we’re asked to illustrate specific truths or teaching points in very clear and precise ways so that the majority of the people in the room/auditorium/sanctuary/chapel will get the message. Now, I’m not saying that we shouldn’t take all people into account when we’re preparing something such as a video, a song, a painting, a dance, or a drama. However, if we have created with the express purpose to only explain and teach, we have suddenly biased ourselves and thusly complicated things a great deal more than if we had just created out of the desire to illuminate and transform. When art becomes all-purpose and utilitarian, we’ve severely lessened its impact. So how do we hold both—creating something simply because we must (the desire to create) and creating something because we have to (the demand for creative ideas)?
I was recently asked to submit a proposal to a publisher for a set of short films similar to the Starving Jesus series. As I sat down to write the proposal, I became acutely aware of the fact that what I was creating was very quickly going to be turned into a product. All of a sudden, I was thinking about demographics, marketing, target audiences, etc. Before I could even get started I was paralyzed, knowing that what I was writing would be subject not only to the scrutiny of my creative process, but also to whether or not the publisher thought he could sell it. Sitting at my desk, I knew I had a choice. I could simply write for myself and create—be the messenger. Or, I could write for the publisher, giving them something that might not be from my heart, but I knew they could sell—produce. (I believe, however, that there is a place that lies between these two extremes, and it is my hope that we can work to find that place together.)
How many times a week does this happen in our churches? A creative person sits down at their desk with an idea for an element in a service. But before they can put pen to paper, they realize their idea will quickly be scrutinized, not only for its inherent value, but also for its potential appeal to the audience. While there is no easy answer, I do believe that if we are going to begin holding this tension, we must first begin creating environments of safety—environments that are secure, kind, and trusting for artists and producers alike. If you want good visions, you must take good care of your prophets.
I believe that, overall, we have made churches very unsafe places for our messengers, producers, artists, and prophets. As a result of not having embraced the visions of these people, we have deprived our communities of the deep, complex, creative, and beautiful mysteries of our faith that cannot always be spoken of in a sermon.
Spackman writes: “Whether one is an artist or not, I think as Christians we are all implicated in the horrendous deficiency of imagination, the visual illiteracy, the dispassionate celebrations of ‘the joy of our salvation,’ the uncaring lamentations of our sorrow for the oppressed and wounded, our lack of protest for the destruction of our ecosystem and the consumerist kitsch that is the predominant expression of faith in most of the Christian community.”
If the above is news to you, know that your messengers/producers/artists/prophets have known it for a long time. They have felt the deep pain of working and volunteering in places that are lacking in creativity and imagination for sometime now. Those of you who are leaders have an incredible opportunity to revitalize your community by beginning to trust and affirm the visions and dreams of your messengers/producers/artists/prophets. This process, however, will not be easy, nor will it be quick. But if you are willing, trust me that you will begin to experience some amazing things, for it is my belief that if you want to grow the mystery of Christ in your church, you must first foster mystery among your staff.
Leaders, my challenge to you is to gather your messengers/producers/artists/prophets and ask them what they dream about. Ask them about the art they create. Ask them to share with you their vision of your community. Ask them to tell you what it is they find mysterious about creating and following Christ. Ask them to dream of a place where they would be free to experiment and make mistakes. And then (here is the tough part), work to create that place for them.
Messengers/producers/artists/prophets, my challenge to you is to be honest—to yourself, your leaders, your God. Perhaps the most tragic part of your calling as prophets and visionaries is that you will not always be understood. In fact, most of the time you will not. Be careful, however, and take note that being misunderstood is not in any way a badge of honor, nor is it your martyrdom. Know that the prophet will be called into the court to share her vision, she will be lauded and praised, and then she quickly will be dismissed. Do not be discouraged, however, for you are desperately needed. While your leaders might only be able to ask you questions, it will be your task to gently guide them into your world. Please give them grace when you are dismissed, and please offer strong words when you have more to say. The art of holding this tension—between being a messenger and a producer—will be largely in your hands. How will you hold it?
If, as artists, we are truly carrying the gospel with us in our daily experiences, through breakfast and meetings and coffee breaks and creative brainstorming sessions, then it should spill out quite naturally into the art we create. It is inherently marked and stamped by the truth we hold onto in the center of ourselves. It is our act of worship. It is our most unique and holy offering to the Creator of the universe. This offering does not need to be big, better, slick, or sweet, it needs only to be honest.
With this honesty comes the great and difficult tension that we have been speaking of. This is the tension that comes from our deep desire to create work that serves the community we are a part of, affects the hearts of people who refuse to be touched, and provides a path back toward the truth that will heal us. These aspirations can conflict with the reality of producing a service Sunday after Sunday, the enormous pressure that whatever you present will be evaluated, sometimes severely, and the fact that reasonable resources or time frames to execute even your clearest dream are rarely available. This is the tension of creating from the center of your being something that is neither a product, nor a production, but a holy moment. Again, there are no simple or easy answers to offer. Instead, I offer you this: may you simply be kind to yourself, and may you hold the tension well.
Blaine Hogan is a student at Mars Hill Graduate School in Seattle, WA. He is an artist, actor, and filmmaker. Visit him at blainehogan.com.