Preaching to the Choir

I have spent most of my adult life living and working among Muslim peoples. Few of my friends there had even a rudimentary understanding of Christianity or Christ.

As a follower of Jesus, who has tasted and seen that life with Christ is truly the best kind of life, I was eager to share with them. I was often the first, if not the only Christian they had ever met. As I, and my family, lived among them, they watched our lives and our interactions closely. Although few were eager to embrace Jesus, many were interested in hearing more. They wanted to learn more about what I believed and why we lived the way we did.

I now find myself living the the United Kingdom, in Wales specifically. I live among a people who would generally consider themselves Christians. We have public, government sanctioned, ceremonies where prayers are recited and hymns are sung. The head of the government, Queen Elizabeth II, is the head of the Church of England. My being a Christian is nothing interesting or worthy of notice.

Since moving here I have struggled with how to effectively reach a people for whom the Gospel is no longer new, or of interest. How do you share the good news, when it is not received as either news or good?

Recently, I have been drawn back to the Old Testament prophets. These men lived among the people of God. The Israelites were steeped in the knowledge of God through their law, festivals, and culture from their birth. These were, by definition, the chosen people of God.

The prophets of Israel to Israel were preaching to the choir. With the exception of Jonah, the prophets were called by God not to take the good news to those who had never heard, but to remind the people of what they should have already known and been practicing. But the people didn't want to know. They repeatedly rejected the prophets messages and often treated the prophets badly, even killing a number of them.

I now find myself in a similar position. I am encouraged to know that others have gone before me, and to learn from them. On the other hand, I'm not wild about the track record of the prophets and do not hope to emulate their dangerous and frustrating experience. In the end, I don't need to worry about any of that. I just need to answer the call and step out of the boat to follow my Master across the waves wherever He leads.

Creating or Consuming

Over the last few years, God has been slowly awakening me to my own creativity. It is hard for me to think of myself as a creative person. When I think of a creative person, I think of a great painters like Caravaggio, Cassat, or Monet. I think of poets and sculptors, great men and women.

Somewhere along the line, I believed the lie that creativity was for the professionals. "Our part is to appreciate. Theirs is to create." 

My children have been a big part of this renewal of my creative side. They create all the time. Lego. Songs. Dances. Paintings. They are not inhibited. They have not been told that they shouldn't create, or that their creations don't measure up. So, they create freely and expressively.

They create because we were all made to create. When we create, we image forth a part of the very nature of God. When we create, we participate in, and express, His creative work. He is the Creator and we are creators. 

I feel like there are cultural forces that work to turn me into a consumer rather than a creator. It takes virtually no effort to turn on the TV, or click through the web. I can read, watch, and consume the creativity of others so easily. It takes effort and work to create. But there is something deeper; something more nefarious. 

It is easier and safer for me to consume the creations of others than to risk creating something myself and putting it into the world to be critiqued and ridiculed by an increasingly caustic and cynical culture. We delight in judging and mocking the creations of others. We have art critics, film critics, and music critics. We have fashion police who professionally mock even the simple creativity of clothing choices. We have elevated criticism to an art form...an art that actually discourages art. 

I am reminded of the words of Theodore Roosevelt:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

I choose to embrace and express the creativity that God has given me. To rise above and expend the effort. To push down the fear of mockery and to put myself into my writing, my art. 

I choose to contribute...to create!