Art and Cookie Cutters

I grew up with a mother who rocked at baking. I mean, you name the cookie, the pie, the cake, and she could make it. Just give her the recipe and an hour or two, and soon you’d be feasting on sugary goodness.

Though we may not have them every Christmas nowadays, my mom used to make sand tarts (no sand actually involved) every holiday season. While they weren’t necessarily my favorite cookie that she made, I still wasn’t gonna turn one down if you offered one to me. As I recall, they were the only cookie my mom made using a cookie-cutter. She had various shapes like candy canes, stars, and Christmas trees. She’d roll out the dough into a thin layer and press the cutters into the sheet. Add sprinkles and time in the oven and voila!

But back to the cookie-cutters. See, those cutters were really handy. Why? Because they were consistent. Push one in the dough, and the same shape is formed. Press, shape, repeat. Press, shape, repeat. No variance, no outliers.

Cookie-cutters are great for baking cookies, but might I propose—no, plead—that we leave them out of our art?

Certainly, there are many, many different perspectives on what art is or is not. I’d likely have different views on it than many of you, and you’d have different views than each other. I’m not going to make a case for any one definition of art. That’s not my goal. I will, though, suggest that the purpose of art (while acknowledging that this may be true to greater or lesser extents depending on your definition) is to reflect on our experiences in this life and speak into or about, through various avenues and mediums, our perspective and outlook on this life.

Assuming that purpose for art, who can or should make art? Well, everyone! Everyone has experiences and perspectives on those experiences. Thus, everyone is capable of producing art as a means of expressing their perspective. But if everyone is capable of art, that leaves us with a three-letter predicament: how?

Here is where I fear we sometimes make a serious mistake: we answer the question. “How do I create art?” “Well, you see, here’s what you do…” We give guidelines. We give steps. We give rubrics and requirements and prerequisites that must be in place before something can be deemed “art.” Of course, to spell out the “how” is to imply the “what.”

And it’s at this juncture where I want to be very, very careful because I am not prepared to say that we ought not answer the “what” question as it relates to art. I fear that post-modern thinking has done much harm to our ability to grasp what true art is (or what true excellence in art is). Once you start questioning the existence of absolute truth, it really is only a matter of time before that affects how you define art—if you define it at all.

I suggest that how we answer “how” is extremely important. It’s one thing to give someone suggestions for how they can start their own process of creating art. It’s another thing entirely to present rules and regulations that must dictate the creative process. At that point, you’re not endorsing creativity. You’re endorsing cookie-cutters. And that just won’t work.

The reason cookie-cutters work for cookies is that the dough (much like the cutter itself) is consistent. Assuming you follow the recipe correctly like my mom, the dough will come out right every time. The consistency of the mixture will yield just right to the cutter’s impression upon it.

The reason that rules and rubrics (artistic cookie-cutters) don’t work in art is that, unlike cookie dough, life simply is not consistent. Period. Of course, there are many elements of life that are timeless. Human emotions like joy and sadness (though perhaps expressed differently from culture to culture), the consequences of sin like death and suffering (though, suffering, perhaps manifested in different ways depending on the sin or the time period), and the sovereign presence of God that has always been and always will be. Yet, even in the midst of consistencies such as these, there are, however, many, many variances in our lives today when compared to, say, the lives of Roman citizens at the peak of their empire.

Perhaps you’ve heard or said something like this: “I wish we were making the kind of movies, music, etc. like back in the good ol’ days.” I understand the sentiment behind that. (I’ve said similar things myself.) However, to a degree, I want to say in response, “Eh…I think we’d think differently about that if we really did “go back” to the old ways.” Reason being that the “old ways” were a reflection of their perspectives on their lives. We can’t have a perspective on any life other than our own. That’s not to say that the music, movies, or novels of the past cannot or do not deeply impact us today and prove to be very relevant to our lives now. However, I would argue that for us to go back in time, create an artistic cookie-cutter based on their art, and attempt to use it today would prove far less fruitful than we perhaps think.

I’m a songwriter. I write lyrics and put them to music. If you asked me to teach you how to write songs, I would gladly oblige. But I would do so by offering you the methods and practices that I’ve come to utilize while also making sure you understand that there is no one way to write a good song. If you ask one hundred songwriters what their creative process looks like, you may very well get one hundred different, unique, equally valid answers. More than that, if you ask one songwriter what their creative process was for one hundred of their songs, you may very well get hundred different, unique, equally valid answers to that question as well. Why? Because life isn’t cookie dough, and sometimes the worst thing we can do to our art is to take a cookie-cutter to our experiences and expect the results to be pretty.

You know why my mom used more than one shape when making her sand tarts? Because using just one shape for all that dough would’ve been boring. Sure, it would’ve gotten the job done, and I’d still be eating cookies. But it was never only about the cookies. It was about the uniqueness of each one. Should our art be any different?

Peace is the Promise

“Fear…the city is rank with it.”

If you’re a Lord of the Rings fan, you likely recall this scene in the third installment of Peter Jackson’s cinematic trilogy. For those who are not, picture a huge, ominous army of filthy, ugly, evil creatures preparing to attack and breach a huge, majestic stone structure built into the side of a mountain. Impressive though the castle is, the army within is terribly outnumbered by the scores of monsters outside.

It is within this context that the commanding soldier of the grotesque masses makes the statement above. He then declares, “Let us ease their pain. Release the prisoners!” You need only to continue watching for several more seconds to realize that his desire to “ease their pain” is not genuine but a crude, crude joke, for the contents launched into the castle ranks by catapult are meant—not to ease pain or subdue fear—but to accomplish the exact opposite.

The Church’s great enemy (I almost capitalized that, but he deserves no such honor) may be saying something similar today. “Fear…the city of God is rank with it.” Even more likely is, “Fear…the country, the world is rank with it.” Only you, the reader, can know if this is true of yourself. Is your heart, your mind rank with fear? Fear of sickness? Fear of dying? Fear of financial hardship? Fear of any of these happening to your loved ones? Are you afraid?

Question: how do you respond when you are fearful? Another question: where are you turning in the midst of your fear? I would tell you that Facebook is a wonderful place to alleviate your fears, but you likely know that to be quite untrue already. The same goes for the news, the radio, or any other source from which we continue to be barraged with information regarding the virus sweeping through the nation. Staying informed is important, certainly, for we need to act responsibly in light of this crisis. Yet, at what point are we doing ourselves more harm than good?

The evil army’s “gift” in Return of the King increased fear and increased a sense of pain. Why? Because the army in the castle was forced to think on their fear, come (literally) face-to-face with it, and dwell on it.

What are we thinking about during this time? If we connected our brains to a pie-chart generator and observed the resulting graph, what portion of the chart would reflect our fear? 10%? 20%? 90%?

Lately, I’ve been meditating on some of Paul’s words to the Philippians. I think they are worth quoting in their entirety:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.

Philippians 4:4-9 (ESV)

I want you to notice a few things in particular in this passage.

One, the Lord is at hand. I don’t want to say much more than just that. Brothers and sisters, the Lord is at hand. Perhaps meditating on just those five words this week is what you need right now. Think on who the Lord is, what He has done for you, how He cares for you, and that He is near. He is here. The Lord is at hand.

Two, do not be anxious about anything. I’ll save you some time and simply say that the original language isn’t all that different. (Or you can go to biblehub.com like I did to see for yourself.) Be anxious about nothing. Greek or English, we don’t get any wiggle room here. Don’t worry, don’t fret, don’t cultivate a troubled mind over anything. 

Three, in everything…let your requests be made known to God. The juxtaposition is telling. Don’t be anxious about anything; rather, in everything… The key to this admonition of the Holy Spirit through Paul is the manner in which we approach God with our requests. (1) by prayer and supplication, (2) with thanksgiving. To pray and supplicate (“ask or beg for something earnestly or humbly”) to and before God is to admit our dependence on Him. By definition, we acknowledge that He is the Creator and we are the created when we pray. To do so with thanksgiving requires that we come to Him with gratitude and appreciation in the midst of the trial we are facing. With that said, if anyone has mastered such a thing, please give me a call. Yet, hard though it may be, that is our calling which we ought to pursue.

Four, the peace of God…will guard. Paul gives us a promise in this passage, but it is not a promise of deliverance from our circumstances. It is a promise of deliverance from our fear and anxiety. Peace is the promise. This peace “which surpasses all understanding” is hard to understand precisely because our circumstances do not necessarily change and the hardships do not necessarily go away. And this peace will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. If there is ever a time we need our hearts and our minds guarded, it is now, my friends.

Five, think about these things. Here’s an exercise for you. Write out the things Paul lists in verse eight in one column. You’ll have eight items, incidentally. In a second column, consider the opposites of the items in the first list. For instance, you may say that an opposite of “true” is “false” or “a lie.” Go down the line. Though such an exercise will not exhaust nor hit on everything this verse should teach us, this may provide you with a practical way of gauging your thoughts during this period in our country’s history. As the peace of God guards our minds, let us think about these things as well, for the two go hand-in-hand.

A final thought: there is only one individual who fits into every category listed in verse eight. Peace is the promise, and it is our promise because of the One who hung on a tree. May we think less on the fears which fly over our castle walls and think more on the Son of the God of peace in whom we rest.

Growing Pains

I find that my desire to grow requires change--but I hate change.

I find that my desire for more wisdom requires trials--but I hate trials.

I find that my desire for greater degrees of holiness requires time--but I hate waiting.

The spiritual growth we desire as followers of Christ is not something we reach out for in vain. It is something which the Scriptures show to be part of God's will for our lives in Him. It is His will to sanctify His people. But that doesn't mean He does it overnight, and it doesn't mean He does it without messing with things (with which He is completely allowed to mess).

Looking back at the various changes that have occurred in my life leading me to where I am today, I can see--though only in part--how God used those changes to shape me and mold me in a progressive fashion toward a perfect reflection of His Son. And though I believe that Scripture does not teach perfectionism, I do believe that the Holy Spirit's work, which begins with the conviction He brings, continues on as long as we live.

Yet, I must remember that much of the work God does in His children is established in the valleys. In the seasons of life where we know we live in a way that effectively makes our "Christianity" a facade for fleshly desires. In the times when, though we do live more like Christ by His grace, life is still filled with pain. In the tears of our spouse, our children, our friends. God works at all times. But it's harder to acknowledge in the worst of times.

May we be hopeful in the promises of our faithful God who, in His perfect wisdom, often strengthens His people through the change--not in the absence of it.

3 Things to Keep in Mind When Reading Christian Books

There is great value in reading books by Christian authors; however, there are things that we should all keep in mind before we open the front cover.

1. The authors are fallible.

I know that for myself anyway, it can be easy to forget, but remembering this is crucial in approaching the books of Christian authors appropriately. We know that the scriptures are the revealed Word of God and that the men who wrote the canon did so by the Holy Spirit’s strength (2 Tim. 3:16; 2 Peter 1:20-21). This truth permits us to read the Bible without fear of running into errors in doctrine or history. We don’t have this assurance when reading books outside of the canon, however. This means that we need to approach the reading of non-canonical works with a different mindset. Even the most solid teachers and authors are capable of misinterpreting Scripture or making unbiblical assertions. I have often overlooked that fact. Never read an author without asking yourself, “Is this something Scripture teaches?”

2. The authors are like us.

Something else I sometimes forget when reading books by Christian authors is that they’re in the same situation as me. We’re in the same boat in the sense that we are sinners that have been saved by grace and are on the long road of sanctification. As learned and experienced as many of them are, they still struggle with sin. They still experience suffering. They still wrestle with hard questions. Galatians talks about the Spirit being at war with our flesh. Does this not also apply to the writers on the other side of the page? Being reminded of this, I hope, will lead us to read with hearts that are encouraged and uplifted by the ways in which God is sanctifying these individuals and using them to teach us as well.

3. Books ought to be used as supplements—not substitutes.

If there is one thing in this short list I am guilty of, it is this one. For some silly reason, I find myself more willing to read books written by fallible authors than to read the book by the infallible author, namely God. One of the definitions for “supplement” is: something that completes. This is not the way I am using the word. The Word of God doesn’t need to be completed. It is absolutely sufficient. Rather, think of books as “add-ons” or “bonus features.” (Don’t take that metaphor too far.) Again, only Scripture is infallible. However, there is a lot to be said for reading and learning from other Christians. What better way to love God with our minds (Matt. 22:37)? We just need to be careful that we don’t allow such reading to replace our reading of the Bible. God uses His revealed Word to mold us (2 Tim. 3:17). We can still learn from other books (and the really good ones will be brimming with Scriptural references), but we can’t expect to be sanctified apart from digging into the Word.

As Spurgeon is credited with saying, "Visit many great books, but live in the Bible." The Lord can and does use the wisdom of other men and women to shape and teach His flock--and their books are a great resource for us. May we be mindful of the way in which we approach the lessons they have learned and pass on to us.

The Insight in Insult

As you read the Proverbs, you will see time and again that the wise are open to ridicule, correction, and instruction. The foolish, not so. Scripture also, however, provides guidance for how to approach the task of correcting or instructing another individual. Paul explains to Timothy that “the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his opponents with gentleness. God may perhaps grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth…” (2 Tim. 2:24-25). While this is a directive relating specifically to interactions with those outside of the Church, it has practical implications for interactions with believers as well. Instruction driven by impatience or anger is, though perhaps wise in substance, hurtful and often unfruitful in delivery. And, as with every other area of our sanctification, developing a biblical understanding of how to correct each other is an ongoing process.

Yet, as the process continues, there are bound to be days when patience and gentleness are absent in delivery. And there will be times when we are the recipient of such correction rather than the giver of such correction. In these cases, the instruction may sound and feel more like an insult than instruction. I would argue, though, that this does not mean the instruction can or should be disregarded immediately. At times, there is insight to be found in insult.

To be clear, there are plenty of examples of insult that should be viewed as nothing but insult. I do not refer to such remarks. If we try to find a nugget of truth or encouragement in every insult thrown our way, I fear we may become more discouraged than when we first received it. In such cases, the most encouraging thing may very well be to simply acknowledge the falsehood of the remark and find ourselves, as before, secure in our identity in Christ.

However, in situations when poorly given instruction feels more like an insult, there is wisdom in dwelling on the affront-like correction—not because it is affront-like but because it is correction. And, though the correction being given may also be unnecessary or uncalled for in the moment (which can, in itself, feel like an insult), acknowledging our sinful tendencies that always show up eventually can help us apply the correction to future situations when the correction is called for but may not be offered.

Proverbs 12:16 says: “The vexation of a fool is known at once, but the prudent ignores an insult.” Ignore the biting insults of others when they have nothing to offer you in correction. Look to Christ and find rest in His approval which will always trump the disapproval of others. But if correction may be found in an insult, pull it out, take note of it, learn from it, and then throw the rest away. And, if you really want to get the most out of an insult, talk it out with that individual. Particularly within the body, a willingness to express your hurt brought on by a remark sooner rather than later may lead to helpful correction for—not just you—but for the other person as well. And whenever these situations can lead to further sanctification of both individuals, that’s a glorious win.

4 Reasons I Now Use a Flip-Phone

Convenience vs. Holiness: Why I Switched

Edit: I wrote this back in July 2018, but I still use a flip-phone and hold to the same thoughts.

At the beginning of December 2017, I made a decision to downgrade from my iPhone to a flip-phone with a data-free plan. It had been over two years since I first purchased the smartphone, and, yes, the transition was a little rough. Now, seven months later, I have since received many questions regarding my reason for the switch. Though my answers have varied from person to person, the overarching reason is this: I concluded that the convenience of a smartphone was not worth the harm to my personal holiness. What follows, then, are some things I have learned since the switch. But let me be clear for you. I am not trying to argue that owning a smartphone is a sin for everyone or that I am somehow more righteous than everyone else because I switched back. What I am sharing right now is simply my personal reflection on what I have learned from the experience thus far. Are there people out there who would be wise to take a break from their smartphone? Yes. Is that the case for every smartphone user? No. Am I in a place to make that call for you, the reader? Absolutely not. I simply invite you to read on and learn from it what is most helpful for you in your walk.

1. Convenience can be an idol. 

Technically, this first point was something I learned the day I made the switch. For a while, my considerations to switch back to a “dumb phone” for the sake of personal holiness were stifled by the greater value I allotted to convenience. I realized, by God’s grace, that I was placing such stock in the convenience of my phone that it was preventing me from seeing the far greater importance of my own walk with Christ. My use of an iPhone was far too frequently tearing down my degree of holiness rather than building it up. The decision to switch was made when God showed me that convenience had become an idol--an idol that was keeping me from sanctification.

2. There is a fine line between “tool” and “distraction.”

This point may very well be something I learned through different articles or books, but, regardless, I have learned it experientially as well. If I had to categorize the time I was spending on my iPhone between using it as a tool for practical, beneficial uses and as a distraction, I’d probably slice it around 30/70. If I recall correctly, one study on smartphone use estimates that we look at our smartphones approximately every four minutes. I hate saying it, but I think I landed below that figure. What’s really telling, though, is the fact that the habit of looking at my iPhone has carried over to my flip-phone! That’s right. Sometimes I catch myself just pulling out my phone, looking at the time and then putting it back in my pocket—because that’s about as much as I can do with a flip-phone—unless I have a text. But, really, it’s just as ridiculous! “Travis, you know what time it is. You looked three minutes ago!” While there are far fewer ways for me to turn my current phone into a distraction rather than just using it as a tool, it’s either humorous or sad or both that I still try. Distraction may not always be a bad thing necessarily, but I, for one, overstay my welcome far too often.

3. I don’t need a smartphone.

There is no question that dozens of doors of convenience that were once inaccessible to us are now available through our smartphones. The list of helpful tasks that these hand-held computers can perform has very quickly become inexhaustible. Email, reminders, web surfing, clocking in/out, reading books, and listening to music or podcasts are but a small fraction of what can be done with these pocket devices.

Yet, I can say definitively from my own experience that, though life may be “harder” without these conveniences, I do not need a smartphone in order to function. Over the last seven months, though I have missed the ease with which I could communicate using my iPhone, I have adapted and have not experienced any serious drawbacks as a result of downgrading to a flip-phone. Now, keep in mind that I have not abandoned all electronic devices. I am typing this article on a MacBook after all. In this age of digital technology, there is much that relates to school and/or work for which I simply need access to a computer. And though the times when my laptop was out of commission happened prior to the phone switch, I do think I would be okay if it happened now—rough as it would be.

4. Faces are far more enjoyable than screens.

I’m still learning this lesson. In the same way that the “crossover effect” is causing me to look at my flip-phone too often, I still tend to spend too much time on my laptop simply because I’m used to the screen time. However, I have still learned that the shallows of screen entertainment have little to offer in place of the depths of face-to-face interaction and community.

Can I offer a challenge?

People have told me that what I did seems radical. Perhaps in the sense that I don’t know of many people who have actually done this, yes. It is radical. But in terms of the change it will bring to your life…it’s not. At least, it doesn’t remain so. Again, the transition is rough, but beyond that, there is a sense of release. So here’s an invitation: give the switch a try. 3 months. 6 months. It doesn’t have to be permanent. It may not be for me. But there is much to be learned if you give it a try.

Measures and Me

"...with the measure you use it will be measured to you."

Jesus' teaching on hypocritically judging other people in Matthew 7 is a frequently quoted passage--it's often over-simplified to, "don't judge," so it may not be accurate to say it's a "well-known" passage. But I've read and heard this passage many times.

The irony is that one of my main thoughts is: "Yeah, those judgmental people better listen up! This passage is for them!"

To which the Spirit of God within me says, "Uhhhh. No. The passage is for you."

If I'm completely honest, the measure I use on other people is really, really, really strict. The measure I use on myself is often far more "lax" than it should be. We're told to examine ourselves to see if we're still in the faith. But I find myself masquerading as a spiritual practitioner who examines other people--almost always finding something to judge or inappropriately speculate about.

I don't want the kind of measure used on me that I use on others. The presence of humility and self-awareness combined with "up-front" grace with others that is freely given--without an examination beforehand--is something I desperately need the Spirit's help to acquire--what else is new.

By God's abundant grace, I can and will grow as a grace-giver to others who will judge--but only as one who has understood how grace has impacted my life and must shape the way I judge: not as a Pharisee but as a sinner saved by grace who is being shown in greater and greater measure what holiness looks like through Christ.