What is your Framework?
The term "Architects of Hope" has become a buzz phrase for me over the past several years. Perhaps it will grow into a book. I've taught classes under this name and continue to be inspired by what I discover inside the concept. Today, I want to unpack what I don't mean in saying artists of faith are the Architects of Hope. It is important to remember the great permission we have as artists to explore every facet and experience of life in our art. Working from a framework of hope, does not limit or deny this freedom. In fact, it liberates us all the more to deal with whatever subject matter we may feel inclined to explore.
Architects of Hope are not resigned to deal only with lighter themes and happy endings. This was my fear early on in my faith walk as many of you have heard me say, "What becomes of the poet once he is healed?" I was concerned, salvation would dilute my art into depictions of fat cherubims and Hallmark card sentimentality. But over time, I discovered working from a framework of hope doesn't imply we ignore darker subject matter at all. In some ways, it gives the authority needed to tackle more challenging themes. When our framework, or the larger context surrounding our lives, is one of hope and redemption, we may view brokeness, tragedy, and injustice from an eternal perspective and not fall under the jurisdiction of pain's temporal rule.
The Bible is our prime example of this. We don't have to look any further than the book of Genesis to see this in motion. Genesis weaves a tapestry of stories ranging from creation to murder, slavery to family quarrels, doubting God to misunderstanding God's nature, stories of sexual immorality, shrewd financial dealings, pride and every kind of evil and deception. Yet, right in the middle of it all, are supernatural encounters, examples of God reaching out to mankind, offering covenant relationship and showing himself as good. The book closes with Joseph embalmed in a coffin immediately after prophesying a visitation from God. There could be no wider range of content or experience than what we find in this opening book of our entire spiritual canon. Yet, through it all, there is an underlying framework of hope and the promise of redemption supporting each detail.
The Bible gives us room for the fullness of our human experience. But it doesn't leave us in the muck and the mire without a larger sense of hope through which we are to interpret even the worst of the worst situations. The Bible promises resolve but calls for patience. Only in the long arc do we see all things put under the feet of Jesus. The writer of Hebrews grappled with this when he (or she) said, "He left nothing that is not put under him. But now we do not yet see all things put under him, but we see Jesus." In other words, there is a place to acknowledge the incomplete and broken state which we find the world we live in, yet not at the expense of coming under the reign of its incompletion. Because "We see Jesus," we can be honest about the state of the world without coming under it.
Viewing life from this paradigm does not require our art to provide tidy, 30 minute, sit-com resolutions at the end of our works. It means, as we grow and progress in our art and in our lives, we must continue to ask ourselves the question, "What is my ultimate framework? What is the pervading structure governing my work?" Which is basically to say, "What do I really believe about life? Do I believe in ultimate hope or ultimate despair?" For there are not many options between these two views.
Inside the framework of hope there is room to wrestle through doubts, suffering, and uncertainties. There is room to work through tougher issues and depict the state of the world through whatever imaginative clothing we may use to convey it.
I've heard many wise and well-meaning people give the impression that to be a Christian artist means our art must only be expressions of victory and joy. And, of course, we need reminders of our inheritance of victory and joy as children of God. We need reminders that Jesus is ultimate hope and has victory over everything plaguing the world. Wallowing in our own pain doesn't offer much solace. Neither does ignoring it or pretending it isn’t there. Walking through the process of our pain and walking with others through theirs does.
Sometimes, what people need is identification and empathy, not answers or formulaic solutions. Happy-clappy art can be too far removed from some people's experience and they may need help to get there. They need a guide. So, who is going to lead the way? Who is going reach into the darkness if not those who have found the way through it? Our art must be relatable and honest or it will be irrelevant.
There is no formula to what I am saying. This is why we must move with the Spirit. We cannot become formulaic in our art or we will quickly move from life to religion. Sometimes, the people our art is meant to love may need a reminder of joy and triumph. They may need a reprieve from the hopelessness of their world. Yet, at other times, or for another person, they may need to see the brokenness of their experience reflected back to them by someone whom they can identify with. Remember, Jesus only said, "God so loved the world" once and this was to one person in a private setting. Likewise, Paul called us to know how to answer "each one" individually "for the hope within us." It isn't formulaic.
Sometimes, people need to see through our art, Christians who are not removed from the realities of our world. They need to see that somehow, even as an affront to the apparent darkness, we have found hope in the midst of it all. Someone may simply need to know they are not alone. And art which reaches into the distortions and disturbances of our world can do this. Our job is to move with the Spirit and to be authentic in our work, wherever this may lead. This is what it means to worship in spirit and in truth.
Architects of Hope are not resigned to deal only with lighter themes and happy endings. This was my fear early on in my faith walk as many of you have heard me say, "What becomes of the poet once he is healed?" I was concerned, salvation would dilute my art into depictions of fat cherubims and Hallmark card sentimentality. But over time, I discovered working from a framework of hope doesn't imply we ignore darker subject matter at all. In some ways, it gives the authority needed to tackle more challenging themes. When our framework, or the larger context surrounding our lives, is one of hope and redemption, we may view brokeness, tragedy, and injustice from an eternal perspective and not fall under the jurisdiction of pain's temporal rule.
The Bible is our prime example of this. We don't have to look any further than the book of Genesis to see this in motion. Genesis weaves a tapestry of stories ranging from creation to murder, slavery to family quarrels, doubting God to misunderstanding God's nature, stories of sexual immorality, shrewd financial dealings, pride and every kind of evil and deception. Yet, right in the middle of it all, are supernatural encounters, examples of God reaching out to mankind, offering covenant relationship and showing himself as good. The book closes with Joseph embalmed in a coffin immediately after prophesying a visitation from God. There could be no wider range of content or experience than what we find in this opening book of our entire spiritual canon. Yet, through it all, there is an underlying framework of hope and the promise of redemption supporting each detail.
The Bible gives us room for the fullness of our human experience. But it doesn't leave us in the muck and the mire without a larger sense of hope through which we are to interpret even the worst of the worst situations. The Bible promises resolve but calls for patience. Only in the long arc do we see all things put under the feet of Jesus. The writer of Hebrews grappled with this when he (or she) said, "He left nothing that is not put under him. But now we do not yet see all things put under him, but we see Jesus." In other words, there is a place to acknowledge the incomplete and broken state which we find the world we live in, yet not at the expense of coming under the reign of its incompletion. Because "We see Jesus," we can be honest about the state of the world without coming under it.
Viewing life from this paradigm does not require our art to provide tidy, 30 minute, sit-com resolutions at the end of our works. It means, as we grow and progress in our art and in our lives, we must continue to ask ourselves the question, "What is my ultimate framework? What is the pervading structure governing my work?" Which is basically to say, "What do I really believe about life? Do I believe in ultimate hope or ultimate despair?" For there are not many options between these two views.
Inside the framework of hope there is room to wrestle through doubts, suffering, and uncertainties. There is room to work through tougher issues and depict the state of the world through whatever imaginative clothing we may use to convey it.
I've heard many wise and well-meaning people give the impression that to be a Christian artist means our art must only be expressions of victory and joy. And, of course, we need reminders of our inheritance of victory and joy as children of God. We need reminders that Jesus is ultimate hope and has victory over everything plaguing the world. Wallowing in our own pain doesn't offer much solace. Neither does ignoring it or pretending it isn’t there. Walking through the process of our pain and walking with others through theirs does.
Sometimes, what people need is identification and empathy, not answers or formulaic solutions. Happy-clappy art can be too far removed from some people's experience and they may need help to get there. They need a guide. So, who is going to lead the way? Who is going reach into the darkness if not those who have found the way through it? Our art must be relatable and honest or it will be irrelevant.
There is no formula to what I am saying. This is why we must move with the Spirit. We cannot become formulaic in our art or we will quickly move from life to religion. Sometimes, the people our art is meant to love may need a reminder of joy and triumph. They may need a reprieve from the hopelessness of their world. Yet, at other times, or for another person, they may need to see the brokenness of their experience reflected back to them by someone whom they can identify with. Remember, Jesus only said, "God so loved the world" once and this was to one person in a private setting. Likewise, Paul called us to know how to answer "each one" individually "for the hope within us." It isn't formulaic.
Sometimes, people need to see through our art, Christians who are not removed from the realities of our world. They need to see that somehow, even as an affront to the apparent darkness, we have found hope in the midst of it all. Someone may simply need to know they are not alone. And art which reaches into the distortions and disturbances of our world can do this. Our job is to move with the Spirit and to be authentic in our work, wherever this may lead. This is what it means to worship in spirit and in truth.
The world needs artists who can tackle the darker issues we face as human beings without working from a framework of despair. This means for Architects of Hope, despair is not our ultimate conclusion. We have mystery but not uncertainty. We have injustice but we have redemption. We have brokenness, but we have healing. There is room for difficult questions because our ultimate framework is the goodness of God. Anything we face is contained inside this structure and subject to what hope promises.
I'm thinking of the parable Nathan spoke to David as an example. The purpose of Nathan's story was not to tell David his sin outright but to help David himself, come to see the sin and contradiction of his own behavior.
The story was not a theological discourse on the heinousness of his sin. The story was a fictional depiction of an unjust situation; a man with plenty taking from one with nothing. Through the details of Nathan's story, David learned something about himself and was given the ability to repent. Nathan did not call out David’s sin until David got it himself. The same thing often happened within Jesus' parables. He told stories which left room for his listeners to come to his intended conclusions themselves. In communicating this way, he left room for encounter. He left room for them to find God on their own. Therefore, their faith would be theirs and not belong to someone else.
Good art leaves room for the audience to have their own encounters.
There is a tactfulness the artist carries which is not bound to the same framework as a preacher. Dare I bring up Flannery O Connor? Her work is gruesome. It is not pleasant to read. It is sometimes extremely dark, violent and gratuitous. Yet, when asked why she wrote the way she did, she would say her faith motivated her works and contained a direct, theological aim. In the same way, Nathan’s story was about an unjust, greedy man, but its ultimate aim was for David to be restored.
To conclude, what I am conveying is this. We each work from inside an ultimate framework which informs and influences everything we do. This framework functions as an invisible structure behind all we produce, whether we are explicit about it or not. For "God-conscious" artists, hope is our ultimate framework. Hence, the phrase, Architects of Hope. But inside of this structure, we may address any theme we are inclined to explore. In fact, for the sake of the world, it is needful that our art goes beyond light and easily digestible subject matter.
Come to The Breath & the Clay creative arts gathering March 2018
I'm thinking of the parable Nathan spoke to David as an example. The purpose of Nathan's story was not to tell David his sin outright but to help David himself, come to see the sin and contradiction of his own behavior.
The story was not a theological discourse on the heinousness of his sin. The story was a fictional depiction of an unjust situation; a man with plenty taking from one with nothing. Through the details of Nathan's story, David learned something about himself and was given the ability to repent. Nathan did not call out David’s sin until David got it himself. The same thing often happened within Jesus' parables. He told stories which left room for his listeners to come to his intended conclusions themselves. In communicating this way, he left room for encounter. He left room for them to find God on their own. Therefore, their faith would be theirs and not belong to someone else.
Good art leaves room for the audience to have their own encounters.
There is a tactfulness the artist carries which is not bound to the same framework as a preacher. Dare I bring up Flannery O Connor? Her work is gruesome. It is not pleasant to read. It is sometimes extremely dark, violent and gratuitous. Yet, when asked why she wrote the way she did, she would say her faith motivated her works and contained a direct, theological aim. In the same way, Nathan’s story was about an unjust, greedy man, but its ultimate aim was for David to be restored.
To conclude, what I am conveying is this. We each work from inside an ultimate framework which informs and influences everything we do. This framework functions as an invisible structure behind all we produce, whether we are explicit about it or not. For "God-conscious" artists, hope is our ultimate framework. Hence, the phrase, Architects of Hope. But inside of this structure, we may address any theme we are inclined to explore. In fact, for the sake of the world, it is needful that our art goes beyond light and easily digestible subject matter.
Come to The Breath & the Clay creative arts gathering March 2018
Chiaroscuro...light contrasted with darkness. This methodology creates depth and shapes perspective in such a way that breathes life into a still moment, reality into an illusive dream. This is what I think of when I read this post, and it rings true. Did Jesus not say to mourn with those who mourn? How are we to do so if our theology commands us to be joyous and cheerful 24/7? Compassion and empathy dives into the pain and darkness another is experiencing in order to heal it. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteSo good! Thanks for sharing.
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