When I first began blogging, I made it a habit to try and post every day. Given that my subject matter was raising children, and I had three children under the age of four in my midst, I was rarely wanting for post ideas.
Then my subjects grew up and became aware of what I do, and suddenly finding things to write about became more of a challenge.
Add to that the fact that blogging changed, and the day to day storytelling that was my niche became a bit archaic, and my job as a blogger became even more difficult.
When I began this blog, I gave myself the freedom to post less often. If I’m going to write, I want to have something to say that’s worth your time to click over.
It turns out that posting less comes with it’s own unique set of challenges. In hoping to only post when I have something to say, I find myself feeling completely unoriginal in all that I write. Oftentimes, I sit down, stare at the blank screen, and my brain starts screaming THERE’S NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN!
Then I shut the computer and eat a cookie.
Feeling unoriginal is bad for my blog and my waistline, unfortunately.
The thing about blogging is that originality doesn’t have to look completely different. Because we’re all unique, and we all have unique stories and backgrounds and world views, we can be original to the people within our circle of influence.
What I have to say may not be completely ground breaking when you look at the grand scale, but inside my circle of influence? It may be just what people need to hear.
I don’t want to live in paralysis, constantly in fear of being unoriginal. I simply want to enjoy the gift that I’ve been given – this love of words that leaves me feeling relaxed and whole.
And you should do the same.
Don’t get stuck in fear that you have nothing to contribute to the world around you. Instead, simply embrace your own creativity for what it is – a gift to be shared and given away.
Your words matter. Your paintings matter. Your photographs matter. Your art matters. What you do is unique to you, and it is, therefore, completely and totally original.
Stories and characters always come to me late at night. When my brain is relaxed and the distractions of the day are quieted, voices come alive in my head. This is the product of an overactive imagination and a mind bent toward story.
The last several nights as I’ve stumbled from my bed to feed Annika, I’ve felt the beginnings of a new story begin to rumble beneath the surface. Words and phrases come to mind as she leans close to me, her eyes heavy and breathing even. The warmth of her body next to mine calms me, and the characters are slowly taking shape.
I don’t know who they are yet, or what story they’re trying to tell, but I feel them bubbling and fighting to escape. After I get her back to bed, I scratch out the pictures that are still fresh in my head on a piece of paper, then go back to sleep as the story continues to take shape in my slumbering mind.
This is my creative process. It’s always happening at night, and it’s slow. The stories don’t tumble out, but rather simmer slowly until they’re ready. And then, when the time is right, I’ll sit at the computer and let the characters write their own story. This is what works for me.
The creative process looks different for all of us. Some come alive in the middle of the night, others in the early morning hours of the day. Some of us need peace and quiet, while others work best to the pounding strains of their favorite bands.
However you work out your creativity, know for certain that what you do takes courage. You’re putting yourself out there each time you create something new. For every story you write, blog post you craft, photo you snap, watercolor you paint, room you design, and song you pen, you take a chance.
When you allow yourself to give in to the creative process, and then you are willing to share your work with others, you open yourself up to criticism and rejection. But you also have the power to inspire a weary world with your art.
It’s scary to give yourself into the creative process knowing that your control ends when what you’ve slaved over is handed to the public. When it’s given away, you are left to accept the adulation or rejection. This is terrifying and exhilarating, all at once.
Yes, creativity takes courage. But it’s also what keeps us creative types alive, so don’t be afraid of the process. Let it take you where it needs to take you. Then hand it over, confident that you were obedient to the craft.
Believe it or not, the world needs what only you can create. They need you to be faithful to the stories and the pictures that call you out of bed. Take confidence in that.
When are you most creative? What is your creative process, and how do you find confidence in the face of rejection?
If you’re just joining this conversation, you may want to read Part I first, then move to Part II for a little context as to how we got to this conclusion.
I stood at the edge of the sidewalk and held my camera to my eye. Through the lens, I adjusted the settings and the focus until I had framed the shot exactly as I wanted, then I pushed the button and in a second I captured a moment in time. It wasn’t perfect, because I am, sadly, not a stellar photographer. But it was hard to mess up this shot.
It was September, 2010, and Lee and I were in Hallstatt, Austria celebrating our ten year anniversary. Hallstatt may well be the most beautiful place on earth, and because the landscape possessed such serene perfection it was difficult to take a bad picture there. I stepped back and inhaled deeply, the crisp September morning begging to be taken in fully and completely.
After a few minutes of simply standing and letting the moment fill us, Lee and I turned to walk back to the center of town, and as we did so we passed a man and his wife sitting on a bench just a few feet from where I’d taken my photo. The man held in his hands a sketch book and a pencil, and I stopped and looked over his shoulder. Lee and I both drew in a deep breath when we saw what he’d drawn.
It was the scene before us, the very same scene I had captured with my camera. This man, however, had captured it with his pencil, and the result of his drawing was magical. The sketch seemed almost alive. Though devoid of the color that made up the morning, the details were so intricate, so deftly drawn by an artist’s hand, that it seemed as though the ripples in the water moved on the page.
That which I captured on my camera revealed the art of creation. The drawing on that man’s sketch pad revealed the art of the created.
I ended my last post on this topic with this question, and so here is where I will pick it up:
If all of creation reveals the Creator, then creativity (as defined by the act of creating) will always begin with the potential to honor God.
Do you believe this? Do you see the both the potential for freedom, and the danger, in such a statement?
As sinful man, our first and natural instinct is always to glorify and exalt ourselves. It began all the way back in the Garden of Eden when Eve was so easily convinced that she could become as God if only she’d eat the fruit. The temptation to be as God is impossible for man to ignore. It is ingrained into our very being.
And so the art that we create, while it begins with the potential to honor God, also begins with the potential to exalt us. This is the danger for the artist. We are prone to bastardize the created things.
We see this in so many different ways. From books to movies, music to dance. From photography to graphic design, and painting to home decorating. Every one of these gifts can point people toward God, or away from Him.
It’s up to us to embrace our art as a gift, and to use it not to our own glory. If we are creating, and our creative gifts do not go against God, then our art is a visual representation of Him.
This means, however, that there is a line that can be crossed when art no longer reveals the Creator, but rather taints His creation. Pornography, exotic dancing, songs and books and paintings that glorify the darkness of this world, all of these are ways that we, the created, have distorted the beauty of God and all His created things.
We are all prone to wander.
Like the man with the sketch book, though, we also all have the ability to see and understand when something created has revealed a picture of the Creator. The difference between art that blatantly captures God, and that which more subtly reveals Him is like the difference between my simple photograph and that man’s stunning sketch. One captured the color, the other captured the nuances.
Dear creative friends, everything you create begins with the potential to honor God. Embrace that freedom. Accept it as a gift, and use your art to paint a picture of the Creator and of all His created things. Do not devalue the power of your creative art. What you do matters, and it has the potential to have gospel impact.
Lee and I circled the podium and, like everyone else around us, our eyes turned upward in awe. Mouths slightly agape, breathless at the sight of one of the greatest pieces of art of all time. We were in Florence, Italy and we were standing in front of the Statue of the David.
To say that this sculpture is impressive is an understatement. It is truly the most spectacular thing I’ve ever seen, and I think I could have stayed in that room for hours studying it. The marble was exquisitely crafted into the image of a man, but what made it impressive were the details. The sinewy muscles of the shoulders and legs stretched made it appear that at any moment, the man would step off his pedestal and begin walking.
Masterful art by a master artist. How did Michelangelo do it? How did he form something so spectacular out of a damaged piece of marble over 500 years ago? Could it be because the artist was also the art and, therefore, the creating was merely an extension of his God-given gift?
Let me explain.
In response to Monday’s post, I had some really wonderful, thought-provoking conversation. Can an artist be a Christian without making Christian art? After a lot of thought, I’ve come up with what I hope is a worthy (and theologically sound) response.
The short answer is this: Yes and No.
Ah, ambiguity. Don’t you just love it?
If you look at the history of the Church, though, perhaps you will begin to better see what I mean. This idea of “sacred” verses “secular,” particularly when it pertains to art, is a modern concept. We began to draw a line of distinction between that which honored God and that which honored the world, and in so doing, we the Church (and in this case, the Church refers mostly to the Protestant Church) set up a false view of life and art, and ultimately of God. We began to claim and preach that anything that didn’t directly point to God, or speak of Him, did not bring Him honor and, therefore, art within the Christian realm was dumbed down.
A friend emailed me after Monday’s post with some thoughts on the matter and his words were good. Really good. I won’t embarrass him by sharing his name, but I’d like to pull a couple of quotes from his message:
“I think the dichotomy that sets [art] up as “intertwined” or “separate” is a false dichotomy. As Christians, everything we do takes place in a renewed, renovated, redeemed, forthcoming, there-but-not-yet, kingdom (on earth as it is in heaven). Therefore, there is no “separate,” as Christ is part of our identity, sealed upon rebirth. EVERYthing is intertwined. The gist of your point, though, on whether the art can be accessed within or without a (somewhat artificial) lens of “religion,” is merely one of public perception, and that’s one that’s changed substantially throughout history.“
If God is the Creator, the painter of this world and all that is in it, the Word from the very beginning of time, the rhythm to which we sing, the measured beat of the poem, and if we are His created beings fashioned in His image, then in a very real sense all forms of creativity have the potential to point to Him.
Do you see the beauty and the freedom in what we are discussing here? My friends, as his created beings, we are all the art.
“For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.” Ephesians 2:10
When Paul wrote that we were “His workmanship,” the Greek word he used was Poiema, meaning “made or crafted.” Friends, we as believers are the poem. We are the song. We are the beautiful painting. We are the handcrafted evidence of His Creative Power. We create because we were created.
What beautiful freedom to be found in this truth!
What does that mean, then, for those of us who create art that doesn’t explicitly point to God? This is a concept to be broken up in two different ways.
First, a believer can create something that reveals God without ever once mentioning His Name. It happens all the time. Paintings, photographs, novels, music, and so on – all of these can be written, and have been written, by Christians who used their creative gifts to showcase God, without ever once mentioning His Name. Faith and Art are intertwined, because the Poiema is simply living out the craftsmanship of God.
But art can be made that flies directly in the face of God. We can just as easily point to paintings, photographs, novels, music, and so on, that go against the very nature of who God is – so what do we do with this?
As believers we have been given the Holy Spirit, and through the Spirit we have discernment to know and understand and see that which does not bring glory to God. For this reason, I can still appreciate the art of a non-Christian as a revelation by God, though the artist may not have intended it to be such.
I can also discern when an art form is in direct contradiction with the very character and nature of God, and I can choose to look away. Not all art reveals God, because as sinful man our very first tendency will be to glorify ourselves.
But again, all forms of creativity have the potential to honor God.
If all of creation reveals the Creator, then creativity (as defined by the act of creating) will always begin with the potential to honor God. But…
There’s still so much more to say on the topic, so I will conclude this message in one final post. In the meantime, what are your thoughts? Feel free to share in the comments, or to shoot me a private message if you’re more comfortable with that.
The auditorium was packed, hundreds of literary hopefuls, avid readers, admiring law students, and simple fans all squeezed in together to hear one of the most respected and prolific writers of our time tell his story.
It was 2000, my senior year at Baylor University, and my eyes gleamed with all the hopes and potential of publication. So when I heard that John Grisham would be coming to speak on campus, I jumped at the opportunity to hear him. Lee and I were engaged at the time, so we went together and, randomly, recording artist Chris Rice was with us as well.
I can’t remember why he was there. I just know that he was, and really it fits because every bit of my history is peppered with random.
I loved listening to John Grisham tell his story. It took him three years to write A Time to Kill, and two years to secure an agent. The novel was picked up by a small publishing house who ordered only 5,000 copies printed. Grisham bought 1,000 of those and sold them himself.
Meager beginnings from a man who just had stories to tell.
At the end of his talk, Grisham opened the floor for a Q & A, and this started off nicely with students asking smart, respectful questions. Then one girl stood up and approached the mic.
“Mr. Grisham,” she said, “Thank you for speaking with us today. I noticed you spoke of your faith, and yet I can’t help but wonder why, if you believe yourself to be a Christian, you aren’t writing Christian books that are more God-honoring.”
And the entire auditorium groaned.
Grisham paused and looked closely at the girl, an amused smile tilting his mouth upward. He cleared his throat and leaned forward just a little before speaking. “Well,” he said. “The reason is simple. I am a Christian who is a writer. I’m not a Christian writer.” Then he straightened up, and the audience erupted in applause.
For the creative Christian artist there is a very real struggle with knowing how art and faith blend. For some, art and faith are obviously intertwined – you cannot have one without the other – and their creative genius spills forth in a visual gospel message.
But what about the Christian artist whose art doesn’t give a blatant visual representation of Christ in every stroke of the paintbrush, completed manuscript, or song penned beneath the candlelight?
Is there a place for creative Christians who aren’t producing overtly Christian work? Can art reflect faith without openly proclaiming Christ?
When you consider that God Himself was the Ultimate creative, the first and the last, the Creator of beauty, of color and smell and taste and sound, the originator of art, and the heavenly conductor of the celestial rhythms that beat out all of this life, it’s not so hard to see creativity as an extension of Him.
[Art] is useful because God is thereby honoured when it is seen that he hath bestowed such genius upon one of his creatures in whom is such art. All men will be gracious unto thee by reason of thine art.
Albrecht Dürer
For anyone who works from the creative realm, whether they be the obvious arts such as writing, making music, painting or sculpting, to the more obscure and modern arts such as decorating, photography, producing videos, cooking, or designing, it must be noted that they operate as an extension of God Himself.
The creative genius made in the likeness of the Creator.
As the world progressed, however, the arts began to change, and it seems that Christians lost their sense of just how to portray faith through the medium of creativity. Christian art became a means of proselytizing. It became less about revealing God and His goodness, and more about saving souls. The art was dumbed down in order to send a message, and in this dumbing down the created actually veiled the Creator.
So my question for you, readers, is this: Can great art still reveal the mystery of God’s goodness without being overtly Christian? Can a writer be a Christian without writing a Christian book? Can a painter still reveal God’s glory and goodness without painting Calvary? Can a musician still edify the gospel without singing about God? Can art and faith exist parallel to one another and still bring glory to the Creator, or should they intersect?
So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.
1 Corinthians 10:31
Personally, I believe that art and faith are both separate and intertwined. Like John Grisham, I believe an artist can be a Christian without being a Christian artist, and can still unveil God’s glory as the Creator. But…
There’s more we could say on this topic.
I’d like to discuss this further in another blog post, but for now I open the comment section to you. What are your thoughts on the Christian artist vs. the Christian who makes art?
