The Art of Bread

Typically, this blog waxes eloquent on the deeper theological points of faith and the arts. But today, I thought I would just be goofy and share a story about my wife about a dozen years ago.  It is a reminder that we, as artists, should strive toward the greater art—and often, it comes with a price.

In our family, this story is folklore, the kind of tale that has been retold over the dinner table over the course of more than a dozen years.  Or to paraphrase the words of Kung Fu Panda: “Legend tells of a legendary bread maker whose bread making skills were the stuff of legend…”

Day 1: My wife, Debbie, finds a book on baking bread in the bookstore.  She buys it, thinking that she’ll save the family money in the long run.  “After all, after a few loaves, it should pay for itself.”

Day 4: Debbie calls up her friend and resident bread authority, Teresa, to tell her that she’s going to try to bake bread.  “I’ll bring a loaf over when I’m done,” she remarks.

Day 7: Debbie has baked her twelfth loaf of bread, and they still haven’t turned out.  Bread bricks, dark brown and heavy laden, line the kitchen counter top.  Our two boys, Eric and Justin, have been watching Disney videos for three straight days now, and are beginning to wonder why Mommy won’t come out of the kitchen.

Day 12: I walk in the door at the end of the day, remarking, “Another door stopper, honey?”  I am greeted with a cold, silent stare from Debbie, who is in the kitchen, the telltale signs of wheat flour on her blouse.  I notice that the boys have been wearing the same clothes for three days.

Day 17: Debbie calls me in tears.  “I’ve tried everything,” she explains.  “I need a bread making machine.”  I try to console her, but she is late.  “I have to go to Teresa’s to watch her bake bread.  Don’t wait up for us tonight…”

Day 23: Debbie has resorted to bribing our sons with toys from the drugstore to get them to try samples of her bread.  I have begun contemplating building an outdoor barbecue pit with the leftovers.  The house is a shambles, and cobwebs are beginning to collect on the ceiling.

Day 24: Debbie calls me at work and announces proudly, “I got my bread to rise!”  Unfortunately, she cannot remember what she did differently to make it so.  I am now seriously considering seeking professional intervention.

Day 26: As I drive into the garage, I notice that the mile high pile of clothes on the washing machine has disappeared.  Two adorable clean children greet me at the door.  As I enter the house, it is obvious that the hallway is vacuumed and the kitchen is clean.   “What’s for dinner?” I ask hesitantly.  “Chili,” Debbie responds coyly.  “And some homemade bread.”

Poetry and the Arts Hangover

I know very little about poetry. Except for the smattering of T. S. Elliot and Edgar Allan Poe in high school, the limericks I read as a kid on the elementary school restroom stalls, and the occasional forays into bad haiku, I really don’t know much about it.

There is a young lady at our church, a poet.  In fact, she is such a good poet, she can actually call herself a poet and nobody seems to think that is odd in any way.

I asked her to explain poetry to me once, and her response was a little mind blowing.  She patiently explained that the intent of the arts is to express ideas and emotions that cannot be expressed using words.  The thing about poetry is that you have to use words to express that which cannot be expressed using words.  So the poet employs forms and devices like rhythm, alliteration, metaphor, simile, and other stylistic elements to achieve their art.

In our discussion, our senior pastor, who is a fan of poetry (can you call people who enjoy poetry “fans”?), introduced me to Billy Collins, former Poet Laureate and one of the more accessible poets today.  In fact, I encourage you to hit the link here to some fascinating videos of Billy Collins reading his poetry.

I share this because I was at another worship conference recently, teaching a workshop on faith and the arts.   In my introductory remarks, I asked a question, “Are the arts an important value in your churches?”  Sadly, there were just a handful of people who raised their hands.

During the workshop, I was trying to find an analogy for the church without the arts—and without the artist—and I came up with this one.  Imagine the Bible without the book of Psalms, the Song of Solomon, most of the book of Isaiah, Revelation, all of Jesus’ parables, and a bunch of other stuff.  The stuff that is poetic and picturesque and metaphorical and beautiful.  The stuff that is…art.

The remaining Bible would be informative and factual.  But it would lack soul.  And much more, I think.

Here is the thing.  The protestant church is still suffering from an arts hangover that can be traced all the way back to the Reformation.  In our post-Gutenberg era, there is an unspoken suspicion—or maybe even a distrust—of the arts in the church.  Even in this current age of drums, drama, and digital video, Sunday morning still centers around the idea that God primarily speaks to us through a person standing behind a pulpit, meticulously dissecting the Bible, like a surgeon looking for a tumor.

In one of his poems, “Introduction to Poetry,” Billy Collins explains his motive: he wants the readers of his poetry to “water ski across the surface of a poem waving at the author’s name on the shore.” But he laments that people only want to deconstruct his poetry, analyze it, and pull the soul out of it.  “But all they want to do is tie the poem to a chair with a rope and torture a confession out of it.”

Why are poetry and other artistic literary elements such a large part of the Bible?  Maybe because the message of the Bible is a mystery, something larger than mere words can explain.  Maybe poetry and other prose can better express the Truth of the Bible, and the heart of God.  Maybe it is through our artistic expressions that the fullness of the Gospel can be more fully expressed.  And maybe because, I am led to believe, God is a big fan of poetry.

Of course, I’m still thinking this one through.  Your dialogue is appreciated.

Worship Lyrics and the Hidden Narcissism

Since the advent of the praise chorus, there has been debate over the lyrical content of Christian worship songs.  The initial (and sometimes continuing) issues have centered on the depth of content.  Worship choruses were lyrically simple, hooky, and repetitive by design.  And in the early development of the praise chorus, I think that was the point—to create songs that were easy to sing and more emotionally evocative, not necessarily weighty in theology.  So in contrast to hymns, worship choruses—infusing contemporary folk and rock sensibilities—were composed that were sincere, singable, and hopefully meaningful.

Thankfully, the hymn-versus-chorus debate is largely a thing of the past these days.  In many churches, hymns and choruses peacefully co-exist in the expression of corporate worship.  In a real sense, the traditional vs. contemporary worship wars were as much a cultural issue as they were a style issue.  And culture evolves.  Of course, the culture wars continue, but they look very different these days.

As we have developed over time, many hymns are taking on a more contemporary flavor, adopting a more modern sound and aesthetic.  Choruses have become more sophisticated musically, and really aren’t even “choruses” anymore, as most songs have multiple verses and sometimes multiple bridges.  And from the standpoint of style, contemporary worship has included rock, pop, gospel, country, and other modern genres.  So the palette of our corporate sophistication has widened, both in musical style and lyrical integrity and artistry.

In recent years, there was some debate regarding the corporate versus personal nature of worship, what I call the “Pronoun Debate.”  People on both sides of the spectrum argued whether songs should be sung from an “I” perspective versus a “we” perspective.  Is the corporate expression of worship—that which happens on a Sunday morning— a gathering of individual worship experiences, or is it a transaction between God and His bride, the body of Christ?  I think the answer is, “Yes.”  And so we moved on from that issue, with some of us worship leaders preferring to lean a little more into the “You” songs, i.e., songs which center more on God and less on “I” or “we.”  But generally, we as a worship community have come to peace with the pronouns in our worship.

I was at a national worship conference recently and had the opportunity to be led in worship by what can be considered the most recent worship choruses being released.  Each song was played and led with great skill and talent, and the songs were well-written and emotionally engaging.  They rocked hard and sounded great.  But there was something in the back of my mind that began to gnaw at me, as one new song after another was unveiled.

I struggled with this gnawing the entire first day of the conference.  And then it began to hit me.  All of the songs were subjective, not objective.  And that is not necessarily a bad thing by itself (as I have stated above).  But in light of the increasing Christian consumerism that continues to pervade the western Church, this subjectivity can feed a self-centered faith.  Because each song seemed to define God according to our experience of Him.

Let me give you an example.  Consider the line, “You are worthy of my praise,” which has shown up in a variety of songs in some form.  Now carefully reconsider the lyric.  I did some checking.  The Bible does refer to God often in this way:  “…The Lord, who is worthy of praise,” (2 Samuel 22:4, 1 Chronicles 16:25, Psalm 18:3, 48:1, 96:4, etc.), which defines God rightly as the Center of our praise.  But in my searching, I couldn’t find any Scripture that says “worthy of my praise.”  Do you see it?  Hidden in that lyric is an unspoken self-centeredness, almost an audacity, which places us at the center of the worship experience instead of God.  It implies, “I have experienced God, and I have found Him worthy.”  And while I believe the narcissism is unintended, it is there just the same.

Consider another example:  “Jesus You died just to set me free.” Is this a true statement?  It is certainly true that Jesus lived, died, and rose again, and His perfect sacrifice (Savior) as well as our surrender to Him of our lives (Lord) gives us the promise of eternal freedom and security.  But the word “just” in this context means “only.”  To say that Jesus died just to set me free implies that I am at the center of my faith, at the center of my worship of God.

And one other thing about this example.  As a songwriter, I know that the word “just” is most probably a throwaway word, a syllable tossed in to make the melody work.  But tossing it in creates an entirely unintended meaning to the lyric.  It points not only to a disregard of the larger theological and doctrinal issues, but also to sloppy songwriting.

Here is the thing.  These kinds of lyrics define God according to our experience of God, instead of define God according to His revelation to us in the Bible and through His mighty acts throughout time and in His created universe.  When we define God strictly according to our experience of God, we appropriate the post-modern worldview and attach it to our faith.  When we make experience a necessary condition of Truth, we limit God and make Him smaller than He is.

Christian songwriters must not underestimate the weightiness of their role in the body of Christ.  As it has been for centuries, personal theologies are formed as much by the lyrics we sing as the Bible we read.  Words matter.  Because words convey ideas.  And a steady diet of these subjective songs—songs which define God according to our experience of God—feeds an egocentric view of the Christian faith.  Are we as songwriters and worship leaders asking our congregations to sing lyrics that are ultimately unhealthy to their souls?

This is certainly a much bigger subject than I have blogged here. And I do admit that this blog is as much a debate I’m having with myself as a foray into the larger debate.  So I know I don’t have all the answers.

Here are a few fun and related articles to keep you busy: Here We Are To Worship, God is Not the Object, Memo to Worship Bands.

[Note: The photo above is an ancient fresco in the Vatican of two choir directors arguing.  Hilarious.]