I can't get Pfaff to post on here - he evidently has a real life that keeps him busy. Ha.
Well, tomorrow is the last day of the week and another closer to me abandoning the spiritual nest that I returned to in 2001. This whole process for me is a challenge, but every day I am trying to push myself and those around me to go and do and be. We can do this. So, I am trying a simple experiment. Emergent leaders and postmodern Christians often talk about our shared web of relationships and the network of humanity that drive us together and apart. In this church planting process, I know I need conversation that will help us move through the mine field of mistakes that have haunted many a church planter. So, I am putting their talk of desiring conversation to the test. I have been sending out emails to these leaders asking them to sit down and talk with us about what Christianity, church planting, and community is all about.
We'll see how sincere they are about dialogue.
Shalom to you and yours,
--Liles
What I am reading:
Message Remix:Pause daily Bible
The New Rebellion Handbook
Anthony Bourdain - A Cook's Tour
What I am listening to:
Iron & Wine - The Creek Drank the Cradle
Halloween, Alaska - S/T
Mewithoutyou - Brother, Sister
What I am watching:
The Office (US)
Scrubs
24
and I finally saw Superman Returns, The Last Kiss, The Groomsmen on DVD
18 January 2007
11 January 2007
Exclusive Guest Article: Thoughts on faith & literature by Alison Andrews
Well, it has been too long. But we are kicking things off this month with an exclusive article on the topic of faith and literature by Alison Andrews - a daughter, wife, mom, writer, believer, and yes - I say this as her brother and friend - a revolutionary at heart. ENJOY.
--Liles
******************************************************************************************************************************
I must confess: although I am a writer and a Christian, I don’t read very much Christian fiction.
Wait—for “very much,” substitute “any.” Furthermore, when I write fiction, most of it isn’t recognizably “Christian.” I’ve never written a story which ends with someone kneeling to ask Jesus into her heart. Apparently, when I sit down at a computer to pour out my soul, my faith doesn’t splash onto the page in recognizably religious language and plot.
Oh, I feel a little guilty about this state of affairs. I’m passionate about my relationship with Christ—at least I think I am. However, could this apparent division between my spiritual and artistic sensibilities mean that I’m not a very committed Christian? Am I on dangerous spiritual ground when I admit that my favorite authors are not shelved in the Christian section of the bookstore?
I’ve been pondering this—after all, this question is important to me, as it should be to any Christian artist—and here’s what I think. First, I don’t read Christian fiction because I don’t think most of it is very good. I say “most of it” because I haven’t read all of it. There may be some excellent Christian novels out there that I don’t know about. However, every time I take someone’s recommendation and try to read one, I just can’t get into it. The clunky language, superficial characterization and predictable plots are a problem for me; I don’t read bestselling mainstream fiction with these faults, either. I don’t mean to sound like a literary snob—there is some excellent genre fiction out there—but the writing has to be good to get my attention. And unfortunately, I feel the bar has been set too low for Christian fiction. It’s like the publishers are saying, “Can you string sentences together and make up a story in which someone goes astray, then recognizes the error of his ways, becomes a Christian and then lives happily ever after? Well, then come on down!” In addition, books imagining the end of the world are doing very well. That doesn’t interest me very much; but then, neither did The Da Vinci Code. As a writer who grew up finding the best writing I could by trial and error, I guess I’m just not inspired by books that aim at the lowest common denominator.
This problem is easier to understand if one accepts the idea that good art is not didactic. It doesn’t shove its message down the audience’s throat. Thus, great novels with Christian themes do exist, but the insight they contain reveals itself in layers because, as Anne Lamott has said, the truth doesn’t come out in bumper stickers. “Reality is unforgivingly complex,” she continues. Writers of all persuasions ought to heed Samuel Goldwyn’s advice: if you have a message, send a telegram. This applies as much to a writer’s passion for psychology or organic yogurt as it does to matters of faith. Somehow one’s beliefs have to be transformed by the artistic process in order to be palatable, much as raw food is transformed by the artistry of the chef. Then the work can aspire to Robert Frost’s definition of a poem: it “begins in delight and ends in wisdom.” But first it must delight, or the wisdom will never come alive for the reader.
The Christian writer faces another obstacle: he or she inhabits an almost completely secular culture that scarcely understands, much less accepts, Christian values. When I tried to list several well-written books that would fit the requirements I just described, I could think of some: Les Miserables, The Chronicles of Narnia, and the works of Leo Tolstoy, Flannery O’Connor and Graham Greene. I recently reread Jane Eyre and was surprised to note its strong moral and religious themes. Yet my list ended with works written in the nineteen-fifties. Before the sexual revolution of the sixties, many writers struggled with the themes of faith and redemption, even though they might condemn the guilt and hypocrisy that characterized their religious upbringing. When a society shares a common set of values (in this case Judeo-Christian values) its literature speaks a common language even when some writers may dissent from the prevailing view. In the world of moral relativism, most writers are operating from a more existential point of view. There is nothing here but humanity, their works declare, and despair is the logical end of this worldview. Though such books can be dazzling in their artistry, they are also depressing. That’s why I prefer the works of writers who, although they may not include conversion scenes, aren’t afraid to depict moments of grace and truth. The writer who happens to be a Christian should study his or her craft in order to write well enough to add to the voices of contemporary literature. After all, forgiveness and redemption are certainly universal desires in every person and every culture.
--Alison Andrews
--Liles
******************************************************************************************************************************
I must confess: although I am a writer and a Christian, I don’t read very much Christian fiction.
Wait—for “very much,” substitute “any.” Furthermore, when I write fiction, most of it isn’t recognizably “Christian.” I’ve never written a story which ends with someone kneeling to ask Jesus into her heart. Apparently, when I sit down at a computer to pour out my soul, my faith doesn’t splash onto the page in recognizably religious language and plot.
Oh, I feel a little guilty about this state of affairs. I’m passionate about my relationship with Christ—at least I think I am. However, could this apparent division between my spiritual and artistic sensibilities mean that I’m not a very committed Christian? Am I on dangerous spiritual ground when I admit that my favorite authors are not shelved in the Christian section of the bookstore?
I’ve been pondering this—after all, this question is important to me, as it should be to any Christian artist—and here’s what I think. First, I don’t read Christian fiction because I don’t think most of it is very good. I say “most of it” because I haven’t read all of it. There may be some excellent Christian novels out there that I don’t know about. However, every time I take someone’s recommendation and try to read one, I just can’t get into it. The clunky language, superficial characterization and predictable plots are a problem for me; I don’t read bestselling mainstream fiction with these faults, either. I don’t mean to sound like a literary snob—there is some excellent genre fiction out there—but the writing has to be good to get my attention. And unfortunately, I feel the bar has been set too low for Christian fiction. It’s like the publishers are saying, “Can you string sentences together and make up a story in which someone goes astray, then recognizes the error of his ways, becomes a Christian and then lives happily ever after? Well, then come on down!” In addition, books imagining the end of the world are doing very well. That doesn’t interest me very much; but then, neither did The Da Vinci Code. As a writer who grew up finding the best writing I could by trial and error, I guess I’m just not inspired by books that aim at the lowest common denominator.
This problem is easier to understand if one accepts the idea that good art is not didactic. It doesn’t shove its message down the audience’s throat. Thus, great novels with Christian themes do exist, but the insight they contain reveals itself in layers because, as Anne Lamott has said, the truth doesn’t come out in bumper stickers. “Reality is unforgivingly complex,” she continues. Writers of all persuasions ought to heed Samuel Goldwyn’s advice: if you have a message, send a telegram. This applies as much to a writer’s passion for psychology or organic yogurt as it does to matters of faith. Somehow one’s beliefs have to be transformed by the artistic process in order to be palatable, much as raw food is transformed by the artistry of the chef. Then the work can aspire to Robert Frost’s definition of a poem: it “begins in delight and ends in wisdom.” But first it must delight, or the wisdom will never come alive for the reader.
The Christian writer faces another obstacle: he or she inhabits an almost completely secular culture that scarcely understands, much less accepts, Christian values. When I tried to list several well-written books that would fit the requirements I just described, I could think of some: Les Miserables, The Chronicles of Narnia, and the works of Leo Tolstoy, Flannery O’Connor and Graham Greene. I recently reread Jane Eyre and was surprised to note its strong moral and religious themes. Yet my list ended with works written in the nineteen-fifties. Before the sexual revolution of the sixties, many writers struggled with the themes of faith and redemption, even though they might condemn the guilt and hypocrisy that characterized their religious upbringing. When a society shares a common set of values (in this case Judeo-Christian values) its literature speaks a common language even when some writers may dissent from the prevailing view. In the world of moral relativism, most writers are operating from a more existential point of view. There is nothing here but humanity, their works declare, and despair is the logical end of this worldview. Though such books can be dazzling in their artistry, they are also depressing. That’s why I prefer the works of writers who, although they may not include conversion scenes, aren’t afraid to depict moments of grace and truth. The writer who happens to be a Christian should study his or her craft in order to write well enough to add to the voices of contemporary literature. After all, forgiveness and redemption are certainly universal desires in every person and every culture.
--Alison Andrews
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