As For Me and My Art, We Will Serve the Truth

I must admit. I read the Left Behind series, and I liked it. Granted, I was in high school at the time, but even so, I liked the books so much I asked for the entire series for Christmas one year. Why am I reluctant to tell you this? For some reason or another, I am under the impression that the term “Christian” writer is actually code for “incompetent.” Why? Why is it that when the term “Christian” is tagged on to any form of art via “Christian” books, “Christian” movies, to “Christian” songs, all of a sudden, my mind rates it a notch below acceptable? Perhaps my invisible rating scale is flawed. Perhaps I have surrounded myself with too many critical thinkers and their overbearing ideas have seared my thought process completely. (That sentence was drenched in about five gallons of wet sarcasm.) Or perhaps it’s simply fault of the term. What makes a book a “Christian” book? If I go into McDonalds and order a cheeseburger and fries and the cashier who places it on the tray is a believer in Christ, does that magically make my meal a “Christian” meal? Of course not. The idea of a “Christian” happy meal versus a “secular” happy meal is ridiculous. (Although if a Jesus bobble-head doll was the happy meal toy, I would definitely plunk down some hard-earned cash for one.) I’m not exactly sure how or when the term “Christian” (fill in the blank with your choice of art) provokes such derogatory sentiments in my mind, but I am saddened by the realization of it. As if it wasn’t enough to spit in Christ’s face and brutally nail his hands and feet to a cross, we drag His name through the mud. I refuse to allow the name of Christ to be abused any longer. No, I am not a “Christian” writer. Yes, I am a writer who is a Christian.

***

The other day I was in the Student Union searching for something to appease my growling stomach. I had chapel back-to-back with class, and I was in need of some food. My eyes skimmed over the menu items and delectable snacks when I came across the Cereals-To-Go. Tony the Tiger was giving me a thumbs up. But wait. I couldn’t find the price! I needed to know how much this tasty treat was going to cost me. I frantically looked around the stand. The price tag was nowhere to be found, and I wasn’t about to wait in the hellish-looking line only to find out it cost more than I expected. My stomach was already tormenting me enough. Sprinting down the stairs towards the post office, I halted at the Plexiglas glow of the vending machine. Shoving a couple quarters in the slot, I punched a couple numbers. I’m pretty sure the glorious plop of my snack was accompanied by a faint angelic hallelujah chorus.

Walking towards class I started thinking about the whole escapade. I was searching for bold numbers that specified the cost of the cereal. I needed the cereal to have a label. We do that with a lot of things in life. Obviously, it’s essential to have prices marked accurately, but must we place a label on art the same way we place a label on cereal? It seems to me that our tendency as humans is to create, place the object in a box, and roll a strip of tape over the top. Drop the name of Jesus in a lyrical melody – gee, it must be a “Christian” song. Paint a backdrop with an old wooden cross – golly, you’ve got a “Christian” painting. Write a book about the end times adapted from the book of Revelation – golly gee, it has to be a “Christian” book. Oh, the convenience of labels. But there’s a serious problem to consider. What do you do with one of these “Christian” songs, paintings, or books when the artist claims he is a Buddhist? Or an atheist. Or a stripper. People are too intricate to be defined by square white nametags written in perfect penmanship. Art is also intricate. It should not be reduced to a simple adjective. Trees don’t have any carvings mentioning the name of Jesus, yet the Bible says, “…Let the sea and everything in it shout its praise! Let the fields and their crops burst out with joy! Let the trees of the forest rustle with praise before the Lord…” (Psalm 96:11-12) If even the trees contain the ability to praise the Lord, who’s to say the atheist’s art cannot? No matter how much we crave something magically delicious, we can’t simply stick a label on art like we can on a box of cereal.

***

During high school I was positive I was going to marry Jason Perry of Plus One. Jason had jet-black hair, a football physique, and the most gorgeous voice. Plus One, for those of you who don’t know, was a “Christian” boy band. Equivalent with the popular sounds and looks of Backstreet Boys or N’SYNC, these five guys had my attention. When Plus One formed, I couldn’t hide my excitement. These guys sounded like N’SYNC, but these guys were “Christian.” I became a full-fledged fan. I bought Plus One t-shirts. I checked their website on a daily basis keeping up with their latest news. And I attended, not one, not two, but seven of their concerts. Yes, seven. God’s number. Being that I can still bust out their hit “Written on my Heart” dance moves at any given moment, I will confess that I am embarrassed about my Plus One craze. Why? Again, the terminology trips me up. They were the “Christian” boy band, and it was the term “Christian” that privileged me to their melodic ear candy. But why couldn’t they just have been known as a boy band? Their sound was no less quality than the tunes being spun on popular hit radio; in fact, their producer David Foster, is widely known for his associations with Grammy award winners such as Celine Dion, Whitney Houston, and Josh Groban. Yet because they were marketed to the “Christian” teen audience and being played mainly on “Christian” radio, they were slapped with another label, “cheesy.” You might as well have called up Domino’s and told them to place a couple of Plus One CDs alongside the pepperoni as your choice toppings.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t have bands like Plus One or novels like the Left Behind series. Each of these works of art has value. They encourage. They uplift. They point us towards the truth. Isn’t that the ultimate goal of art? To portray truth?

I know when I’m a mom (a very far away time and place) I would rather have my teenage daughter listening to a group of young men sing about the satisfaction they find in the love of God than the satisfaction they find in the one-night stand. One declares a message of truth, the other, a blatant lie. But that’s what Satan delights in most, taking the truth and twisting it. He takes the apple, shines it up with a little spit, and tells us we’ll be better off if we eat it. Our teeth sink into the core. We chew and swallow. But there is no satisfaction in the reality of broken relationships associated with one-night stands. No matter how much you try to gloss it over with smooth melodies and tight beats, it is unabashedly false.

Trying to promote the truth in our culture is like a fish trying to swim a cold mountain waterfall. Criticism slaps you in the face from all sides. You’ve got extreme conservatives turning up their noses at groups such as Plus One because they have been getting airtime on MTV. What they don’t realize is that every time their music video is being played is one less time 50 Cent’s music video “In Da Club” is being viewed. Then you’ve also got extreme liberals laughing in Plus One’s face because of their belief in a loving God. What they don’t realize is that same God loves them enough to die for them despite their jeers and taunts. I applaud such groups as Plus One for being willing to speak truth and hope to our culture. I despise how we shove them in boxes and stick them with neat little labels.

Sometimes I wish we could get rid of all of our “Christian” radio stations and simply have one radio station that plays all varieties of music. Yet, we are still drawn to labels. We have the “country music stations” for those accustomed to sweet tea and sexy tractors. We have “rap stations” for those ghetto booties and brothas in da hood. And we have “NPR” for those who are intellectually stimulated by classical ballads and a high caffeine intake. We even labeled Jesus as he hung on the cross. But He never allowed himself to be put in a box of expectation. He hung out with the poor. Ate dinner with the wealthy. Touched the sick. Spent time alone on a mountainside. It wasn’t until his hands were tied and bloody that we able to nail a small wooden sign over his head that read, “King of the Jews.” But he isn’t just a king over the Jews. He is a king over everyone. Even then we got it wrong.

I was wrong too. I still haven’t gotten married to Jason Perry of Plus One.

***

Driving down a county road with a car full of friends, we were looking for an ideal location to film the skits for “Real Life.” I was working as the videographer at a camp called SpringHill. Along with shooting, editing, and producing the weekly videos, I was also responsible for the junior high “Real Life” drama videos. These short films would capture four characters in their every day routine of life and hopefully reveal important messages to the junior highers that would attend camp each week.

More than anything else I believe the media has the biggest influence on our culture. That is why I decided to pursue the field of telecommunications and writing. I want to be involved in influencing our culture in a positive way. We are the salt of the earth, but in many ways, I believe we have lost our saltiness. We are too easily satisfied with our comfortable lives, and we no longer engage in risk to further God’s kingdom. Many of us get sucked into the “Christian” bubble mentality. But we should not remain there.

We are called to be lights of the world, but if all we are doing is shining a light among other lights, how is that penetrating the world around us? An excerpt from Madeline L’Engle’s book Walking on Water summarizes my thoughts.

If I understand the Gospel, it tells us that we are to spread the Good News to all four corners of the world, not limiting the giving of light to people who have already seen the light…we do not draw people to Christ by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them how wrong they are and how right we are, but by showing them a light that is so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it.

My goal, whether I am eventually working directly with cameras, editing video footage, or writing scripts for film would be to work in an environment where I will be salt and light. That may not always necessarily mean that I mention the name of Jesus. I want to give people an alluring glimpse of truth and love through my art. Through living my life. Yes, I am a writer who is a Christian. But please don’t label me as a “Christian” writer.