I watched the film, The Fantastic Mr. Fox, over the weekend. I’ve always been a fan of Wes Anderson (the director).  He’s had a penchant for quirky characters without feeling contrived and his stories are as hilarious as they are human.  His most recent foray into stop motion animation is no exception. There are many themes that come up, but a few are still playing in my head.

In this film there is a striking celebration of humanity.  Much like WALL-E or District 9, The Fantastic Mr. Fox uses some very non-human characters (foxes, badgers, rabbits, etc.) to teach us what humanity ought to be.  More than a few times the characters tell themselves, and each other, that they are “wild animals.”

One of the conflicts in the film concerns Mr. Fox himself. He left the “wild animal life” and has become a writer, but still yearns to be undomesticated—stealing ducks, turkeys and apple cider. Mr. Fox puts himself and his family in danger because of this rekindled animal nature. The conflict heads to a point and leads to a confrontational conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Fox.  He tells his wife he is a wild animal and can’t help what he does.  She responds with, “But you’re also a husband and a father.”

You see, we are all wild animals.  When we use our wildness for our own selfish individual gain, we get into problems like our Mr. Fox.  Even if we are successful in our particular area of wildness, there’s still something not quite right, something is missing or lost.  But the answer to this dilemma is not to dismiss or repress our wild natures (which is a big temptation), but to properly apply them: to be a wild animal and a husband and a father.

Eventually, Mr. Fox embraces this wildness, not for individualistic ends, but for his family and his community.  When he uses this desire for others as well as himself, things start changing around.  This becomes most clear when Fox encounters the wolf towards the end of the film.  The wolf is a symbol of true wildness, of its essence.  This meeting conveys that Fox has finally  become the truly wild animal he thought he always was.  He’s no longer afraid of the wolf, but is in a state of awe and wonder.

Similarly, God has called us to be wild animals.  Not individualistic, but communal wild animals.

Our wildness, properly applied, is a powerful thing.  The film teaches us that this desire brings together families, overcomes obstacles and when a community of wild animals come together, they can save the day.

Sadly, probably a majority of Christians don’t even know what their wild animal might look like.  We are mundane people with mundane lives and mundane dreams.  The Fantastic Mr. Fox tells us to not be OK with that.

In many ways, we have forgotten how to dream.  We’ve forgotten the thrill of the hunt.  Maybe we’ve tried to recreate the thrill on our own selfish terms, or maybe don’t think it could be a part of our present lives, or maybe we’ve never experienced it in the first place.  Part of the reason we need people and stories and art in our lives is to stir up those long-lost memories inside of us.  This is what it means to be truly human.  God has created humanity to be a grand, beautiful thing: to know Him and be a part of His plan of redemption.  We don’t often think we are part of this plot and effectively write ourselves out of the story, settling for something less than human.  The Fantastic Mr. Fox tells us to not be OK with that.

For the past 10 weeks I’ve been teaching an introduction to a theology of worship class at my church, Orlando Grace Church. I’ve cleverly named the class Introduction to a Theology of Worship. The whole class is available online, through my resources page.

I wanted to teach on worship by using as many art forms as I could: dance, painting, installation, music, etc. I also wanted to use as many instances of contemporary art as possible, hopefully creating an awareness of contemporary art that I think the church, in general, has lost (much to the detriment of the church’s mission, not to mention richness in devotional or everyday life, but that’s another topic).
Some of the artists whose work I used as metaphors and parables: John Tavener, James Turell, Soweto Gospel Choir, Bill Monroe, Makoto Fujimura, Georges Rouault, John Cage, Philip Glass, Wendell Berry, Gregory King, Mark Rothko, Lauren Shea Little, J.S. Bach, Thomas Tallis, James MacMillan, Olivier Messiaen, and some of my stuff. For a full list of the artists and their work, see the art referenced page.

The class attempted to follow a certain order: starting with God, talking about the Trinity, God’s transcendence and immanence. Immanence led to a week on creation, which led to speaking about humanity. Because we can’t understand humanity apart from God, that led us to the topic of the Incarnation, which lends itself to the cross. From there, we talked about the resurrection’s meaning on the Christian life: sanctification. We then took a step back to consider our context: our tradition, our church history, the importance of creeds and confessions, as well as looking at how to interact with those around us now. We ended the class with a discussion on eschatology, the in-breaking of the future into our present.

I’ve made available my notes, slides, reading list, and art referenced. It’s broken down week by week, or you can download it all in one shot. For those of you who care to look at it, I hope it’s helpful!

So I’ve been loving playing with ToneMatrix, a step sequencer inside a browser.  I decided to capture a little bit and add a tiny bit to it.  I use one ToneMatrix session and a single drum loop.  This space is for experimentation as well as working ideas, so here’s one for the experimentation books. On a side note, I really like the idea of having a melody evolve over time through repetition.  John Coltrane is good at that.

download this song

Some weeks ago I gave a sermon on Malachi 1:1-11.

I saw the text focus on three areas of God’s greatness, His love, His fatherhood, and His plan of redemption.

I feel that Malachi is so very relevant to us today because of his style: he is attempting to shock his audience out of their apathetic stupor. The original audience needed a shock and so do we. We can easily assume God’s blessings and act like grown up spoiled kids when things don’t go our way. Unlike the shock-jocks that used to be so popular on the radio (maybe when radio was more popular), Malachi’s outrageous statements are not to be an end in themselves; there is a point to it all: to bring us back to hope. As I say in the sermon, he holds a gun to our heads, not to kill us, but to bring us to life.

The problem with us worshiping God is that we can’t actually do it. By the mere fact of God being God, we will never measure up to the standards that are present. Which is why we need One to lead us in true worship. We are in need of Someone to show us how and to enable us to worship.

Here’s the audio:

Download this sermon

The most beneficial and harmful sentence in Christianity: “I know Jesus Christ as my personal Savior.”

Jeff

The other day I met Jeff. He lives in my neighborhood, is retired from the army and owns his own lawncare/landscaping business. I found out he knew I went to seminary when he said,

“So you go to seminary, huh?”

“Yeah, I go to Reformed Theological Seminary just up the street.”

His response (”praise God”) I took as secret code for, “Hey, I’m a Christian, too. Cool.”

He asked what I wanted to do when I was done with school.

“I would love to work for a church…” etc. etc.

I asked him if he goes to a church nearby.

“No, haven’t been to church in a while”

“Yeah, the church has burned lots of people.” (I didn’t realize until now that could be taken more than one way.)

Jeff: “I just have some weird views of church.”

And then he said it: “But I know Jesus Christ as my personal Savior.”

He went on to repeat that he had some “interesting” views on church, then continued,

“I just try and be a better man each day than I have before. Some days that doesn’t work out, but most days I do pretty well with that.”

I wanted to ask him more about that comment, but I was running late for participating in a chapel service, and he had work to do, so I ended the conversation with, “I’d love to talk to you about that sometime.” He seemed genuinely interested. Maybe we will.

John and Kim

That conversation reminded me of John and Kim, two friends who started up a coffee house. They hadn’t been to church in some time, I got the feeling they had some bad experiences. They definitely had some funky biblical views and their son, whom they were worried about, was kind of off doing his own thing. They would ask me, an early twenty-something first year seminary student, what to do to help their son. They would often say the phrase that I know I’ve heard many times before, “We don’t go to church, but we know Jesus Christ as our personal Savior.”

Pros and Cons

I believe this summation of the gospel has been very beneficial, but is not without its harmful results, of which I’m sure were not originally intended.

“I know Jesus Christ as my personal Savior.”

It is a bold statement, there is no question of the affiliation with God.

“I know…”

It also says something about this God: he can be known, and man can know him and (maybe by induction) He knows me.

“…Jesus Christ…”

Even more than a bold statement about a vague God, it specifically identifies Jesus Christ, something even some churches are reticent to do.

“…as my personal Savior.”

There is an identification and a relationship being communicated- also, no other mediator other than Jesus is being mentioned. It is obviously a personal faith. And saying “savior” means you are saved from something, so there’s seems an inherent theology of hell.

That said, this snippet is also very harmful to the gospel, and here’s why I think that:

Ultimately and by itself, this statement makes Christianity’s validation experiential: I know, personal savior. The justification is only subjective, and not just subjective, but individualistically subjective. Especially given the equal relevance for all religions/worldviews in our current society, this can be harmful. (I’m thinking of the typical “That’s great for you, but not for me” routine.)

This statement also makes redemption seem like it’s all about us. God’s redemption does include us, but is so much bigger than just us. God’s plan of redemption has in mind the entire world, us included.

Maybe my biggest beef with this statement is there is no community aspect: I can have Jesus and do whatever I want. It’s typical American individualistic fare. Yes, our faith is a personal faith, but it is most definitely not just a personal faith. The Christian’s life is one that must be lived with others. Without going into too much theology (look here and here instead), the existence of the Trinity is a constant call to community. An individualistic Christianity is one that does not affirm the Trinity.

One other assumption inherent in this statement goes back to the first point. My assurance and sanctification is based solely on how I feel. Should I got to church or not? Doesn’t matter, Jesus is my Savior. Should I study my Bible or not? Doesn’t matter, Jesus is my Savior. How should I live? Really, it doesn’t matter, Jesus is my Savior.

There is such a flattening of the gospel, it almost makes life on earth something meaningless in itself, or at least the only purpose is to get to a point where you can recite the sinner’s prayer.

Often in statements like these, there’s no room for taking up the cross and dying to oneself. All the inconvenient parts of being a Christian get wiped away. Of course, probably any small sentence that attempts to say what the gospel is will always come short, and that’s one benefit of conversation and social interaction. Small sentences like these, though helpful at times, can be damaging to such a glorious plan of redemption.

Last week in my Sunday School class I’m teaching, we took a look at the Trinity. We spent some time on how the Bible teaches that there is one God, and that there are three Persons. How can God be one and three at the same time? At first glance, it seems to be a paradox. This has been an age-old debate (and definitely not one we’re going to find a sufficient “answer” to) that is not limited to the realm of religion or theology, but is an area of interest for philosophy as well: the one and many. Is the essence of being, or the essence of the world singular or multiple?

First off, we should not expect to be able to define and understand and categorize everything about God. If he is God, then there will be aspects of him that are above us. If we could completely understand him, he would not be God, he would be something lesser. There is a grace in ignorance. But just because parts of God are unsearchable doesn’t mean we throw our hands up in the air and give up: though He is transcendent, He is knowable. There are parts of Himself that God has given us the grace of knowledge, the faculty of knowing. Too easily we fall into one side or the other: God is knowable but not completely knowable.

With that said we attempt to look at the Trinity. Because our own experience does not come close to the truths that are found within the Godhead, we resort to analogies. And though analogies always break down, some are more helpful than others. The analogies we most often use are physical or sight based: the Trinity is like 3 states of matter: water, ice, vapor or the Trinity is like an egg: yolk, shell, the white stuff (whatever that’s called). There are many more out there, I’m sure. The problem with physical analogies is that only one thing can occupy one space at one point in time. If a pen is on the table, 2 more pens cannot be in the same exact place at the same exact time. Yet thinking about the Trinity requires more than one thing to occupy the space.

This is where using our ears can be more helpful than using our eyes. For a sound environment, multiple sounds can occupy the same space simultaneously. If 3 violins are playing, one can hear all three violins at the same time, and they take up the same space of sound. Going further, one can focus on the overall sound and understand the one-ness, or one can listen for the individual parts and understand the three-ness. And this happens in the same space and the same time. The apparent paradox presented in the physical world makes more sense when looked at in the aural world.
By the way, this was a corporate collaboration on the Sunday of a capella hymns.

Two great examples of the one and many come from John Tavener and Thomas Tallis. These are both choral works. Tavener, who is still alive and composing, is influenced highly by his Eastern Orthodox faith, and puts a high priority (at least musically) on the purity of one-ness. Here’s one of his most famous pieces, The Lamb.

Tallis, on the other hand, was a medieval composer, and embraced polyphony: he liked the idea of the many. Here’s one of his more famous pieces, Spem in Alium.

Between listening to both of these pieces, we get an idea of how the Trinity can be one and many at the same time.

From September to the end of November, I’ll be teaching a class at Orlando Grace: An Introduction to a Theology of Worship. My goal is to teach about the history of redemption using mainly systematic categories, and using many different forms of art to teach or illuminate the material. My hope in doing so will lead to a greater appreciation of God’s manifold grace and our response (worship), understanding that this grace comes in more forms than letters on a page or sermons on a Sunday. I’m not discounting those two forms (we would all be lost without them), but just trying to shed some light in an area where Protestants fear to tread: the arts. Especially the visual arts and most especially the contemporary visual arts.

The overall scope of the 12 week class will hopefully look something like this: starting with God, the Trinity and its transcendence and immanence, moving to creation. Then looking at man, his dignity and his depravity, then moving to the Incarnation of Christ, then to the cross, then to sanctification, or the life of the believer. After that, we’ll look at more environmental aspects: our history (from the early church to the reformation to now), creeds and confessions, and maybe do some clean-up on contemporary issues. We’ll then (hopefully) finish up on the future of worship, aspects of eschatology in our daily lives.

As I go, I’ll be making all my information available to whoever wants it: my Keynote slides, notes, a recommended reading list, and a list of artists mentioned along with their work and links to further information.

It will be listed under the ‘Resources‘ tab up top or by visiting here.

In my previous post, I wrote this:

We all create, sometimes for life, sometimes for death. We are a mix of artist and terrorist.

I was reading Mark 14:1-11 and came across this idea of artist/terrorist.  This event takes place before the Lord’s Supper.  A woman anoints Jesus with some costly perfume, in preparation for His burial.  The disciples scold her for “wasting” such a precious and costly commodity, it could have been useful. Jesus receives her gift and defends her actions to the clueless disciples.  Mark then places an interesting two verses: Judas apparently leaves the scene in his plot to betray Jesus.

There are a few interesting things going on here at first glance.  We find an artist, a terrorist and some pragmatists.  The artist is the woman who created something our Savior deemed “beautiful.”  She sacrificed and created a beautiful moment.  The disciples, not really getting it, only see the pragmatic side of things- the money would have been better off for a more “useful” purpose.  Like giving to the poor, or something that really helps other people.  Their false assumption is that something beautiful, even if it be ephemeral, is worthy of our time and energy and money.

The woman was basking in the presence of the Lord, and the Lord affirmed her.

The woman is contrasted with Judas, the man who would try to betray Jesus.  He was not basking in Jesus’ presence, he wanted to remove His presence.  Both chose to create.  One chose to create life, the other death. And this is the war within ourselves- all have the power to create, and with that comes the responsibility to create life.  Taking cues from Chuck DeGroat, part of us wants to create life and part of us wants to create war.  Part of us is an artist, part of us is a terrorist.

There will always be people who don’t get it, like the disciples.  “Art is a waste of time.” “Shouldn’t you evangelize the lost instead?” Though good questions will arise, artists will always have to defend themselves for spending time creating.  But there is a real truth that many who don’t define themselves as creative types often miss: we are all artists.  We are always creating, like a language or a culture, it’s just part of being human, being made in the image of God.  And, as artists, we look up to see Jesus looking down on our attempts at creating beauty in our lives, and he says “You have done a beautiful thing for me.”

One of the books I’m currently reading is Makoto Fujimura’s Refractions (one of the Books You Should Read), a collection of essays reflecting on faith, art and culture. It works as a devotional book with its starting places and illustrations in art. I love it so far. In chapter 8, he writes this:

Art is an inherently hopeful act, an act that echoes the creativity of the Creator…[art] is done in hope; the creator reaches out in hope to call the world into that creation.”

Makoto Fujimura - Refractions

The very fact that we imagine something that is not created yet, we reach out to it, to see it become manifest is an act of hope. We don’t know for sure if the thing in our brains will become the thing in reality, but we hope it will. When writing a song, I normally have a specific feel that I can’t quite put to words and I’m straining to work it out in reality- to see the intangible become tangible (at least in some way).

And this creating is not limited to art. We are all little creators, an attribute given by The Creator. With our lives we can create beauty and life (such as being a sacrificial husband or a loving sibling) or we can create chaos and death (such as being an abusive spouse or an arrogant Christian). We all create, sometimes for life, sometimes for death. We are a mix of artist and terrorist.

The Christian’s job is to be creating beauty in this world, seeking God’s will to be reflected here on earth as it is in heaven.

We have a mandate to become artists, using the wreckage of broken beauty in this world. We each have a different brush, a different voice, a different movement, but and we are all united in the hope we have to create. A hope for our own creations, and a hope in the One who made creation.

Earlier this week I had what is called “root canal therapy.” Basically, they drill/file/demolish all the bad parts of a tooth, then drill/file some more, then fill the formerly-bad-but-now-open space with some kind of filling material. It sounds a little nutty because it is. It’s a process that took 2 hours for me (and is still not done yet). So while the dentist was removing pieces of my tooth and the assistant was using that air-sucker thing, I had a good amount of time to think.

There’s a crazy sensation when a doctor takes a drill to a piece of bone in your body. For me, it was fascinating. My whole head responded in reverberations to the swirling drill, and, because the resonation was coming from the bones in my head, it felt like my brain was creating the sound- though I knew the doctor and the assistant both heard the sound, though it might have been slightly different.

So my thinking kept going to how our bodies are created for resonation. It would have been impossible for the dentist to drill into a tooth and not get sound. And I wasn’t even using my vocal cords, it was just a part of how I am made- how we are all made. We are all finely tuned instruments, all with different depths of sounds and timbres. Our Creator has crafted us like a fine handmade guitar, each piece of wood and binding and glue made to exact specifications for creating a rich and unique sound.

So much time has been taken with our instruments, our bodies, and we often overlook it. Especially for myself (being a musician!) it took a visit to the dentist for me to appreciate the depth of how I am created.

So is it weird that I’m thinking of a theology of music and creation while a dentist cranks away at pieces of my tooth? Yeah, probably. But I hope the next time you get root canal therapy or hit yourself on the head or sing or play drums on your chest, you’ll realize that The Maker has created you into a work of art, one that is made to resonate beautiful sounds back to Him.