“One story he especially liked told of the troubled woman who came to the Indian saint and sage Ramakrishna, saying, ‘O Master, I do not find that I love God.’ And he asked, ‘Is there nothing, then, that you love?’ To this she answered, ‘My little nephew.’ And he said to her, ‘There is your love and service to God, in your love and service to that child.’”
-Bill Moyers in his introduction to The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell

Discuss.

Mostly I’ve been really annoyed at Calvin for his jerkitude to anyone who doesn’t agree with him entirely and totally submit to his authority (a story for another time, and probably not for the internet), but in his sermon on Titus 2:1-5 I found these couple gems.  The first is about specificity in preaching, the second is on the whole “I wish the sermon was ‘deeper’” phenomenon, which apparently has been happening at least since the Protestant Reformation, and according to Calvin since Paul wrote his letters.  At any rate, I hope you can wade through the crazy sentence structure.  We’ve been trying to leave the text as intact as we can, which means that sometimes I’ve sacrificed sound grammar and clarity for the sake of being true to the original text (of the translation–unfortunately I can’t just go straight from the French, seeing as how I don’t actually know French).

Now after Saint Paul has spoken generally, he adds: That the elder men should be sober, grave, and modest, sound in faith, in charity, and in patience. Saint Paul could well have spoken of the Law, and have willed Titus to teach the people that every man might have behaved himself godlily. But he treats of each man’s duty particularly, which is a thing well worth marking. For it will fall out, that if men preach but only general doctrine, their teaching will be very cold, so as folk will not be touched with it. And why so? For we shrink back as much as we can possibly when God calls us to him. Therefore he had need to speak to every of us, that we may be touched the nearer.

But still, St. Paul exhorts not Titus to preach it once or twice (and no more), but he will have him to hold on still in so doing. It seems at the first blush to be a superfluous labor; yes, and by reason that we be tickled with vain newfangledness, we would have men to bring us every day some new thing, and it irks us to hear these common things spoken of. Tush (say we), as for my household behavior–how I have wife and children to govern–I can learn those things at home. Must God be fain to reveal me his word from heaven for so common and small a matter? Under color (say I) of seeming not to profit greatly by hearing such things rehearsed, we would rather that the preacher would tell us some strange thing that might make us to soar in the air, according as I have told you already, that the world is inclined to the hearing of curious questions, that may please our foolish and disordered affections. But God’s spirit is wiser than we, and he knows what is meet for us; therefore let us bridle ourselves. And although we might be wearier to hear the things told us which are contained here, as if a man should but beat upon the water, yet let us assure ourselves it is not without cause that God wills and commands them to be renewed to our remembrance. And indeed, if we look well upon ourselves, it will be easy to discern that while we live we will never profit so much as were requisite in things that we esteem to be most common, and are known in manner to little children.

Dichotomy or The Judgment

There are two kinds of people:
some are crazy
and some are dead,
and some days
it’s hard to say who
is better off.

There are a few layers of meaning in this particular poem.

On the surface level (Dichotomy), what I’m saying in the first three lines is that everyone is crazy. More or less. And then in the last two lines, the surface reading questions if its really always better to be alive than dead.

On another level (The Judgment), you can read “crazy” as “loving Jesus” and “dead” as “lost”. So in this reading the last two lines point out that at times it seems like those without hope of the Resurrection are enjoying life a lot more than those who are waiting for a future fulfillment of Heaven.

On the deepest level (though that’s not to say that the others are less important), this poem is about the difference between those who live life on the edge and those who live life all structured and precise. And some days, it’s hard to tell who is better off.

aporia

Heaven is as sure as hell
and Hell is pretty damn apparent

The earth’s a lake of fire
at its core, its inner nature
boiling up
with hate and malice
all diseased and rotting
essence oozing out

From pores and fissures
violent cracks spew
out the stench of death
and dying, fractures
in the love that makes us up

…

It’s not the sky
no, it’s the world that’s falling, fallen
out of sync with how we know
it’s meant to be

Upside down, the sky beneath
us, waiting patiently
until our spiral downward is complete

And we go SPLAT
against the solid air and understand
that all along
the heavens were the grounded ones
and we
the shadows slipping out of reach

…

Evil has no sense apart from good
the dark is empty–light is full
privatio boni
good deprived, but still
the solid substance surely real

But nothingness means something
is, or can be
one day will be (will we be?)
real enough to fill
this void for good

To dwell within, inhabit
all this darkness
supersede, consume, explode
the veil that lies so heavy on our hearts
was ripped in two

The wind bring rain, which drains into the ground
til the earth is full—stuffed
—ready to explode
at a moment’s notice, bursting into green
grass and flowers and bluebonnets galore.

You’d hardly recognize that hill
if you saw it now in Spring:
there’s a new wrought-iron gate
over the ancient, rusty cattle guard,
and tall, straight pines now keeping watch around the tank.
The yard’s old barbed-wire boundary replaced
by a vintage white-washed fence,
and the dirt patch pitching mound we wore into the grass
now marked by a sturdy, promising oak.

I have to wonder: what’d this look like a century or four ago?
Would I have known as I stood on this soil
in knee high grass untouched by any man—
this hill, this dirt, this risen lump of ground—
that I was home?

The tides of time and the literal rivers
must have shaped and formed this plot of land
over who knows how many thousands of years.
But it was still this hill,
it was still this place and still this earth.
And this was ever my heart,
this was ever my soul and ever my song
—though I have yet to truly find the melody.

Everything has changed…in a sense
nothing stays the same…in the end
heaven is eternal…in our souls
when all is put to right we’ll finally know:
we are home, and have been all along.

“What exactly makes a song secular?” asked Terry Mattingly at the start of his March 2nd chapel address. At first this question seemed like a backward beginning, considering his lecture was entitled “What is Christian Music?” But as he went on to lay out the confusion and debate over the definition of the so-called Contemporary Christian Music Industry (CCM), the relevance of his original question became quite obvious: if we can’t even define what makes a song non-Christian, how can we ever hope to nail down what qualifies music as Christian? In their 1999 book Apostles of Rock: The Splintered Art World of Contemporary Christian Music, Jay Howard and Jon Streck put forward these three criteria: “artist, lyrics, and organization” (9). As Mattingly questioned, is a song Christian because of “the theological commitments of the artist,” or because of the amount of “God-talk” in the song (which apparently is quantified in terms of Jesus per minute, or JPM), or because of the market it is sold in? Or, as Bono questions, is it even possible to call any music Christian?

On top of the nightmare of trying to figure out which of these criteria is the best way to define Christian music, each criteria creates its own problems. If a song is Christian because the artist who wrote it (or performed it—there’s the first problem) is Christian, who gets to decide who is orthodox enough and who isn’t? Are Bob Dylan and Bono Christians? Is Amy Grant (still) a Christian? This kind of debate gets ugly and personal real fast.

If the lyrical content of a song determines its “Christianness,” how direct do the lyrics have to be? Does every song have to present the plan of salvation? Or is saying Jesus’ name good enough? Do Scripture quotes buy an automatic in? Obviously, drawing a line in the sand on this issue is nearly impossible (though listening to the average Christian radio station is enough to convince me that there is some sort of established JPM standard after all).

If being sold in a Christian market defines CCM, then what does it mean, as Mattingly asked, to have a “Christian cash register”? Does that even exist? Or if it requires being produced by a self-proclaimed Christian label, what about indie artists? And again, who is overseeing what is and isn’t Christian? This definition, like the other two, must be referred to a higher authority. And in American evangelicalism there simply isn’t one.

So how do we talk about Christian music in the absence of any authority to give a final verdict on the issue? Howard and Streck provide a helpful division of CCM into three distinct groups: “Separational CCM, Integrational CCM, and Transformational CCM” (16). These three groups correspond loosely to the three criteria for determining if a song is Christian. Separational CCM emphasizes the use of music as ministry, demanding that for a song to be Christian its lyrics must explicitly proclaim truths about God and salvation. Integrational CCM targets the distinct Christian market and subculture, arguing that Christian music must only be a wholesome alternative to the drug and violence and sex ridden music produced in the secular market. Transformational CCM, finally, stresses the importance of the artist’s personal belief, holding that any song written from a Christian worldview qualifies as Christian music.

Even though it was over a decade ago that Howard and Streck came up with these definitions, these three terms accurately categorize Christian music today. The Integrationalist approach has gone out of vogue for the most part, while the Transformationalist movement has grown by leaps and bounds. The current state of affairs, as theologian and rock ‘n roll aficionado Mark Allan Powell notes in the preface to his Encyclopedia of Christian Music, has shifted from a focus on whether Christian music should primarily be ministry or entertainment to whether Christian music should be primarily worship or “art” (11). Still, the three-fold division does provide a helpful frame of reference in which to discuss Christian music, and also serves to trace the progression of CCM from its origins to the present.

Fifty years ago, before anyone was blowing steam about the different approaches to Contemporary Christian Music, Christian pastors and thinkers and budding musicians were going at it tooth and nail over if it was even possible for such a thing as Christian pop or rock to exist. Conservative and Pentecostal leaders condemned rock and roll as inherently demonic and sensual, and saw the incorporation of Christian lyrics to rock melodies by newly converted bands such as Norma Jean (formerly Luda-Kiss) as a great abomination (Howard & Streck 35). Powell postulates that the term “contemporary” was originally just a euphemism for “rock” used by those who couldn’t bring themselves to admit that they had “compromised” with the world (Encyclopedia 12). This demonstrates the hostile attitude of Christian pundits toward rock music in the 60s and 70s. And I’m sure that a brief survey of our parents and professors who were youths during that era would yield story after story of exhortations to burn and smash all those classic rock records in order to truly pursue holiness.

Eventually rock and roll won out, though no one can seem to agree why. Some, like Calvin College professor William Romanowski, attribute the mainstream acceptance of CCM to merely business reasons (109). Others, such as the generally more positive Powell, believe it won acceptance due to the obvious authenticity of the faith of the new Christian rock artists (“Jesus Climbs the Charts” 22). Still others, like Howard and Streck, hold to a more nuanced history of the development of Christian rock as the interweaving of threads both sacred and secular (26). Whatever the case, rock and roll finally gained approval in the eyes of mainstream evangelicalism, and the CCM industry began to form. The evangelistic “Jesus Movement” of the early 70’s gave way to the “Jesus Rock” of Larry Norman and the like, which in turn birthed Christian niche bands such as Stryper and Petra (Howard & Streck 29). Thus CCM left its primarily Separationalist roots and moved towards a more Integrationalist emphasis, aiming to “redeem” rock, as it were, making a purer version of the vice-filled siren tunes of mainstream secular rock.

In the 90’s came the first attempts by CCM artists to legitimize themselves in the broader musical world. Amy Grant was one the pioneers of this phenomena, breaking into the Billboard Top 100 with her album Heart In Motion, and beginning a trend of CCM artists trying to force their way into the “real world” by toning down the “religious” content of their songs (Romanowksi 117). These became known as “crossover” artists, and can be loosely associated with the Transformationalist approach to CCM. Recent times have seen a decline in the crossover fad, but this is most likely because bands are choosing to distance themselves from mainstream CCM from the get-go. Rising Christian artists, having seen enough of CCM to know that it’s not what they want to be associated with, are increasingly distancing themselves from Christian labels and markets.

When I asked Rob Griffith, sophomore English major and frontman of the up-and-coming band Flying Colours, if he attached a positive or negative connotation to the term “CCM,” he did not hesitate a second before answering: “Negative.” He characterized CCM as an industry driven almost entirely by business concerns, and made up of artists (generally speaking) who weren’t good enough to make it in the real world so they resigned themselves to being big in CCM. Griffith’s perspective is not unique: in fact, many aspiring Christian artists whom I have spoken with over the years share his frustrated sentiment that CCM is simply a second-rate and slightly behind-the-times version of the “secular” world’s more original and more talented work.

But what exactly is Christian music according to this viewpoint? In answer to my question “Do you make ‘Christian’ music?” Griffith answered, echoing Bono, that there is no such thing as Christian music—that is, except worship music designed for congregational singing. I suppose, then, we can conclude that this fourth approach to CCM is what we might call “Nonexistent CCM.” If the Separational approach is too constrictive and market driven, and the Integrational approach is too imitative and just bad art, and the Transformative approach ultimately ends with leaving CCM altogether, maybe there isn’t a proper place for CCM other than to produce “church music,” as the fundamentalists have argued all along.

Not everyone is satisfied with that answer, though. Some, like theologian Andy Crouch, believe that this approach to music in particular, and culture in general, falls short of our God-given role to bear his image on earth. In his book Culture Making, Crouch lays out four “postures” that American evangelical Christians have held toward culture in the past two hundred years or so: condemning, copying, critiquing, and consuming (68). Crouch argues that all of these are proper “gestures”—specific responses to individual works—but fail as “postures”—gestures which have become habit through overuse and universal application (90). An outright condemnation of culture is inadequate because whether we like it or not, we need culture as humans, and we will participate in it simply by virtue of living (68). Copying culture is dangerous because it “breeds a generation that prefers facsimile to reality, simplicity to complexity…and familiarity to novelty” (94). Critiquing culture falls short of affecting any real change, because it lives in the world of words and thought, without actually producing anything to replace the “secular” culture that has been explained away. Finally, consuming culture blindly and without reservation leads to Christians becoming indistinguishable from the world—first in appearance, then in substance. Consumption is, in Crouch’s words, “capitulation: letting the culture set the terms, assuming that the culture knows best and that even our deepest longings…have some solution that fits comfortably within our culture’s horizons, if only we can afford to purchase it” (96).

I fear that if we accept that there is no such thing as Christian music, this gesture of consumption will indeed become our posture, and we will not only begin to lose any chance of influencing the culture, but we will also begin to be conformed to the culture that we consume. We need, as Mattingly challenged, people who will make beauty not only for a Christian subculture, but for all—a beauty that can touch the world. We need, as Crouch says even better, to not only condemn, copy, critique, or consume, but also accept our roles as artists and gardeners (97). We must adopt a posture of cultivation and creation, making truly Christian art for the both the world and the Church.

But what does it mean to make Christian art? We have now come full circle, asking again: “What is Christian music?” The modern American evangelical Church of has largely failed to wrestle adequately with what it means to make Christian art, or at least what it means to make art Christianly. Recent years have seen an increased awareness in certain circles of the importance and power of the arts, and theologians are beginning to think through these issues more deeply. But if CCM, which is currently dominated by the often mindless and anti-intellectual Separational approach, is to break from its stigma of producing only mediocre, sanctified versions of secular trends, it will require much more intentional thought on the part of artists and theologians and pastors alike. And it will require great intentionality indeed to avoid the opposing pitfalls which musician and author Jeremy Begbie calls “theological imperialism” and “theological aestheticism”—didactic dogma stifling artistic expression on one hand and artistic expression trumping the importance of orthodoxy on the other (Resounding Truth 21).

Crouch’s terminology of “cultivation” and “creation” may provide us with an answer. As cultivators, we must be aware of the culture that has come before us and that we live and breathe in. We must critique it, evaluating it and listening to it, keeping what is good and throwing out the bad. We certainly should consume it in some sense, appreciating the beauty that is still in the world through God’s common grace. We must copy it to learn the craft, at times, or condemn it entirely when called for. But we cannot stop with cultivation. It is not enough to weed a garden and till the soil and water the ground—we must also plant. Christian music, as it should be, means music that is created under our God-ordained role as his image-bearers to make something beautiful of this world we live in (Crouch 23).

It does not always have to be the most excellent art, and indeed, at first it certainly will not be. It need not always have theological language or a high “JPM,” because life does not consist of only books and words but of relationships and conflict and pain and joy. And it doesn’t have to be sold in Christian bookstores, though I would certainly hope that mainstream evangelicalism would come to appreciate good Christian art in time. But it must, to be Christian music, be made with an eye toward fulfilling the command to cultivate and create culture to the glory of God. If you are a musician and a Christian, I hope you will put into action this call to cultivate and create meaningful and excellent Christian art. And if you are not a Christian, I hope that you will answer this same call to cultivate and create culture in all arenas, so that the Church might reclaim its power to restore and redeem the brokenness of our world.

I will arise and follow you over
Savior please, pilot me.

Over the waves and through every sorrow
Savior please, pilot me.

When I have no more strength left to follow
Fall on my knees, pilot me.

May your sun rise and lead me on
Over the seas, savior pilot me.

O Lord, O Lord!

“If pain afflict, or wrongs oppress;
If cares distract, or fears dismay;
If guilt deject, if sin distress;
In every case, still watch and pray.

“’Tis prayer supports the soul that’s weak;
Though thought be broken, language lame,
Pray, if thou canst or canst not speak;
But pray with faith in Jesus’ name.

“Depend on Him; thou canst not fail;
Make all thy wants and wishes known;
Fear not; His merits must prevail:
Ask but in faith, it shall be done.”

Joseph Hart

1 Samuel 1

1There was a certain man of Ramathaim-zophim of the hill country of Ephraim whose name was Elkanah the son of Jeroham, son of Elihu, son of Tohu, son of Zuph, an Ephrathite. 2He had two wives. The name of the one was Hannah, and the name of the other, Peninnah. And Peninnah had children, but Hannah had no children.

3Now this man used to go up year by year from his city to worship and to sacrifice to the LORD of hosts at Shiloh, where the two sons of Eli, Hophni and Phinehas, were priests of the LORD. 4On the day when Elkanah sacrificed, he would give portions to Peninnah his wife and to all her sons and daughters. 5But to Hannah he gave a double portion, because he loved her, though the LORD had closed her womb. 6And her rival used to provoke her grievously to irritate her, because the LORD had closed her womb. 7So it went on year by year. As often as she went up to the house of the LORD, she used to provoke her. Therefore Hannah wept and would not eat. 8And Elkanah, her husband, said to her, “Hannah, why do you weep? And why do you not eat? And why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?”

9After they had eaten and drunk in Shiloh, Hannah rose. Now Eli the priest was sitting on the seat beside the doorpost of the temple of the LORD. 10She was deeply distressed and prayed to the LORD and wept bitterly. 11And she vowed a vow and said, “O LORD of hosts, if you will indeed look on the affliction of your servant and remember me and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a son, then I will give him to the LORD all the days of his life, and no razor shall touch his head.”

12As she continued praying before the LORD, Eli observed her mouth. 13Hannah was speaking in her heart; only her lips moved, and her voice was not heard. Therefore Eli took her to be a drunken woman. 14And Eli said to her, “How long will you go on being drunk? Put your wine away from you.” 15But Hannah answered, “No, my lord, I am a woman troubled in spirit. I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the LORD. 16Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for all along I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation.” 17Then Eli answered, “Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant your petition that you have made to him.” 18And she said, “Let your servant find favor in your eyes.” Then the woman went her way and ate, and her face was no longer sad.

19They rose early in the morning and worshiped before the LORD; then they went back to their house at Ramah. And Elkanah knew Hannah his wife, and the LORD remembered her. 20And in due time Hannah conceived and bore a son, and she called his name Samuel, for she said, “I have asked for him from the LORD.”

Recently reading this, I was struck by the way Hannah prayed…

I read the first two paragraphs (v1-8) as a backdrop of the following couple of paragraphs. Even at the very beginning of the book in the second verse, we find a pretty blunt description of what’s going on: “Peninnah had children, but Hannah had no children.”

In the verses that follow, we find more on Hannah’s circumstances: Elkanah loved Hannah, and gave her a double portion on the day of the sacrifice (v5). On the other hand, Hannah experienced some emotional trauma when “her rival used to provoke her grievously to irritate her, because the LORD had closed her womb” (v6). This was an annual thing–Hannah endured year after year of provocation, which led her to such sadness that she “wept and would not eat” (v7).

Imagine being continuously tormented like Hannah was. She was (at this time) barren, and was provoked because of it. The interesting thing is that her physical condition was not something she had any particular control over–”the LORD had closed her womb.” This must have been pretty emotionally traumatic for Hannah. But how did she respond?

We find in verse 10 that “[s]he was deeply distressed and prayed to the LORD and wept bitterly.” Read her prayer:

11 And she vowed a vow and said, “O LORD of hosts, if you will indeed look on the affliction of your servant and remember me and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a son, then I will give him to the LORD all the days of his life, and no razor shall touch his head.

It was curious to me that she would say “if you will indeed look on the affliction of your servant and remember me and not forget your servant…” And she eventually confesses that “[she had] been speaking out of [her] great anxiety and vexation” (v16).

Matt Chandler commented once that it is in God’s mercy that he would allow us a “thorn in the flesh” (2 Cor. 12:6-8) for the sake of our humility. And this is certainly the case in Hannah’s situation. She was barren and emotionally traumatized, but she brought her trouble humbly before the Lord, petitioning for a child according to his will, while promising to be faithful. Eventually she left convinced of God’s faithfulness, and “went her way and ate, and her face was no longer sad” (v18).

When we have requests, let us bring it humbly to the Lord, asking them according to his will, promising to be faithful no matter the circumstance. And let us be convinced of God’s faithfulness–we can be assured that “for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28).

It seems that rather soon, God provides Hannah with a child. How does she respond? She commends it to the Lord. She says, “I have asked for him from the LORD” (v20).

When God responds to our requests, let us commend it to the Lord, again remembering that “for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”