An Unusual Reminder to Encounter and Embrace Differences

Where I live now, the grass stays green pretty much year-round. Aside from eleven years of my life when I lived in Memphis, Tennessee, this has always been the case. In Memphis, the only grass you’ll find is Bermuda grass, which has the unfortunate characteristic of turning brown in winter, making Memphis winters especially dreary—the grass is brown; the trees are brown; even the roads are brown rather than black.

So when my dad posted a picture of our yard on social media a few weeks ago, our Memphis friends were amazed. How was our grass so green?! See, for many of them, brown Bermuda grass in winter is all they’ve ever known. Fescue grass that stays green all year is a novelty—something they hadn’t even known to think of.

I don’t say this to belittle them or their experience in any way. I had the exact (yet opposite) experience when we moved to Memphis—Brown grass? What is this? Green grass (and black roads) were all I’d ever known. But their reactions got me thinking. It’s been less than ten years since I left Memphis, but I’ve already become so reaccustomed to green grass, curvy roads, rolling hills, etc. that I’ve started to forget that everywhere is not like here. 

My family moved to the Memphis area from southwestern Virginia when I was ten years old. At ten, I was old enough to be well aware that this new home of ours was different—very different. And I loved learning about the things—big and small—that made west Tennessee distinct from the East Coast states I had known. Experiencing the differences in culture, topography, food, language, and accent that existed even between two areas of the same country helped me grow in many ways.

Learning that not everyone does things the way I do, says things the way I do, or experiences things the way I do helped me widen my perspective, deepen my awareness, heighten my curiosity, and broaden my capacity for showing empathy. This has aided me tremendously in years since as I have interacted with people from various places and backgrounds (and as I prepare to move to the other side of the globe).

So why do I share all of this with you in the last week of 2020? Because I’d like to encourage you as we head into a new year to think outside the box and not assume that everything in your current experience would be the same in any other place. This might seem obvious to some of you. After all, most people already know that everywhere is not like home. But it’s when you find those things you didn’t even know to think about that your horizons truly start to broaden.

When you learn that some people eat biscuits instead of rolls (not to mention that not everyone means the same thing when they say “biscuit”), that some cultures have groom-centered weddings rather than bride-centered ones, that people in most places think putting ice in drinks is weird, that engagements don’t happen the same way in every culture, that there are other kinds of dressing than the kind made with cornbread, that not everyone knows that restaurants can have drive-thru service, that people from some regions actually like unsweet tea (or sweet tea), that some cultures think shorts are immodest but low-cut shirts aren’t and others think the opposite, that some places have sirens to warn of tornados and others don’t, that to some people “iced coffee” is synonymous with “Frappuccino,” that not everyone knows what a bridal shower/baby shower is, etc., etc.—that’s when the real growth happens.

Simply put, there are things out there in the world that you don’t know you’re missing—just like I and my Memphis friends didn’t know there were different kinds of grass that behaved differently in winter—and the only way you’ll know is if you encounter them yourself or cultivate a curiosity that leads you to ask someone who has. Travel is of course one of the best ways to encounter different environments. International travel will give you the biggest exposure to differences, but travel within the same country or even the same state will, in many cases, provide just as much interaction with new things. If you are unable to travel, don’t worry—hope is not lost! Books, photos, and videos from the library or the internet can help you in your quest to grow through knowing more about the beautiful variety of God’s world and the people that inhabit it.

And another resource—perhaps the best one of all—is the people you know whom God has brought into your life. Whom do you know that has traveled abroad? Whom do you know that has grown up in a different environment than yours? Who has moved around a lot? Who has a different family size than yours? Who lives in a different climate? Don’t be afraid to ask them questions about their experience or about their physical environment, past or present. I’d like to encourage you: before year’s end, try to think of one person you could talk to who would help you expand your understanding of life outside your own bubble.

If I am that person for you, I’d be happy to talk. For many people, I’m the only person they know who is marrying an Arab and/or moving to the Middle East, so I have had multiple conversations with different friends and acquaintances who have questions about all sorts of things relating to those experiences. Since our very first date, my fiancé and I have held to this two-fold principle: don’t assume anything and don’t think any question is stupid. I’ve asked him things like, “Do you have taco seasoning over there?” or “Would you get in trouble if you just go down the street and pick up trash?” Sometimes the answers are not what I would have expected; that’s why it’s important to just go ahead and ask instead of assuming. So if you have questions about something I can speak to, you can ask whatever they are with the complete assurance that I won’t think you’re stupid for asking. 

It's always a great time to learn something new. And as we face a new year, let’s determine to expand our understanding of the world outside our neighborhood. Let’s open ourselves to the possibilities that await when we encounter people and places different from what we already know. Speaking from experience, I’d say when we look back a year from now, we’ll find that our lives have become all the richer as a result. 

Glorying in the Greatest Gradual Reveal of All

A few months ago, in another post, we used a passage from The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes to lead us into considering how God’s withholding from us knowledge of how everything in our lives is going to play out is actually a blessing, despite our feelings to the contrary. We saw how a gradual reveal is evidence of His mercy and grace in our lives. Today, I’d like to revisit that idea but with a twist. I’d like to draw your minds to ponder a gradual reveal more dramatic and astounding than any other in the history of mankind—the gradual reveal of Christmas.

For followers of Jesus, the account of His birth is familiar, often to the point of becoming dull or cliché. The nativity scenes, the carols, the bumper stickers reminding us of the true reason for Christmas—all of these can lead us to look at this historical event as an isolated incident disconnected from the context of the rest of human history. In some Christian circles, there is rightly an effort to connect Christmas to Easter, showing how the cradle leads to the cross, but even this perspective falls short of capturing the full majesty of the arrival of Christ.

If we only look at Jesus in the New Testament, as someone who bursts on the scene in Bethlehem during the governorship of Quirinius, we miss the drama and the full weight of His coming. But He didn’t just appear out of nowhere. His coming was expected, even if not exactly expected in the way it happened.

We needed a Savior; that was obvious. Humans had been lying, killing, cheating, stealing, blaspheming, and otherwise sinning since nearly the beginning of time—since the Fall (Eve’s and Adam’s sin in the Garden of Eden) to be exact. And God had known we would need saving and had a plan all worked out even before our first parents rebelled. He could have just sent the Savior all of a sudden one day. He had every right to simply say, “Surprise! After a few millennia, I have some news—you need rescuing, and here’s your rescuer.” But He didn’t do that.

Instead, He employed the gradual reveal. He started immediately after the need for a Savior became apparent to His human creatures. In Genesis 3:15, we see the first promise from God regarding Jesus—only at the time they didn’t know it was Jesus whom God was promising. They only knew there would be a descendant who would crush their mortal enemy. The specific who, the when, the where, and the how were left undisclosed.

For the next few thousand years, over the course of history covered by the Old Testament, pieces of God’s plan and of the Savior’s identity were slowly revealed. Other events happened that provided foreshadowing of Jesus’s substitutionary and sacrificial death (think the ram sacrificed in Isaac’s place in Genesis 22, the Passover in Exodus 12, the bronze serpent in Numbers 21, etc.).

Poems were written that foretold characteristics of the Savior and specifics of His time on Earth (see the 23 Messianic references in the Psalms).[i] Prophecies also revealed pieces of the unfolding plan, such as the fact that Jesus would come as a baby (see Isaiah 9:6), would be born in Bethlehem (see Micah 5:2), and would be born to a virgin mother (see Isaiah 7:14). Fifteen other prophecies in the book of Isaiah alone disclose pieces of information about the coming Savior.[ii]

These prophecies/promises not only helped authenticate Jesus as the person He says He is—that He is from God, is God’s Son, and even is God Himself—but they also served to build the anticipation of Jesus’ coming so that now, looking back, we can doubly marvel at His advent. Marvelous for its own sake as being the arrival of the God-Man Savior, Christmas is also marvelous for being the culmination of thousands of years of anticipation that had been building through God’s masterful gradual reveal. When we look at the season through this lens, we begin to feel the full weight of the drama of Christmas.

We begin to understand the overwhelming wonder that Simeon must have felt as he, who had understood the promises and had been waiting his whole life to see them fulfilled, realized that God was allowing him to witness their coming to fruition before his very eyes and to hold the very One who had been foretold for millennia (see Luke 2:22-35).

We begin to understand the unbridled excitement that Anna must have felt as she was finally able to tell others, who had been watching and waiting along with her, that the Savior had finally come—in the flesh! He was here! God’s plan was revealed! (See Luke 2:36-38)

We begin to understand the exuberant joy that Zechariah must have felt as his long-awaited son was born and as he realized the prophecies he had studied were coming true and that God was using his own family to play a major role in His master plan of salvation (see Luke 1:67-79).

We begin to understand the overflowing rapture that Mary must have felt as she rejoices with her cousin Elizabeth that God has not forgotten His promises to their ancestors and is sending the Savior at last (see Luke 1:54-56).

When we place Christmas in its context of the overarching narrative of the Bible, we become aware of just how significant the coming of Christ is. And on top of praising God the Father for sending God the Son, we can expand our praise to include expressions of gratitude and wonder for the awesome way in which God let His plan unfold. He gave glimpses of Jesus to every generation, and He’s placed us in the 21^st century where our generation can look back and see how all of those glimpses fit together into a master story—a story all the more wonderful because it is true.

So this Christmas, join me in letting your thoughts trace the thread of Jesus from the Garden of Eden to the ark to the mountains of Canaan to Egypt to the wilderness to the tabernacle to the Promised Land to the shepherd-king’s field to the temple to the exile to the fiery furnace to the valley of dry bones to Nazareth to Bethlehem. And let yourself glory in the grace of God that is shown in the greatest gradual reveal of all.

PC: Jane Morris. Used with permission.

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[i] Psalm 2:7 fulfilled in Matthew 3:17; Psalm 8:2 fulfilled in Matthew 21:15-16; Psalm 8:6 fulfilled in Hebrews 2:8; Psalm 16:10 fulfilled in Matthew 28:7; Psalm 22:1 fulfilled in Matthew 27:46; Psalm 22:7-8 fulfilled in Luke 23:35; Psalm 22:16 fulfilled in John 20:27; Psalm 22:18 fulfilled in Matthew 27:35-36; Psalm 34:20 fulfilled John 19:32-33, 36;  Psalm 35:11 fulfilled in Mark 14:57; Psalm 35:19 fulfilled in John 15:25; Psalm 40:7-8 fulfilled in Hebrews 10:7; Psalm 41:9 fulfilled in Luke 22:47; Psalm 45:6 fulfilled in Hebrews 1:8; Psalm 68:18 fulfilled in Acts 1:9-11; Psalm 69:9 fulfilled in John 2:17; Psalm 69:21 fulfilled in Matthew 27:34; Psalm 109:4 fulfilled in Luke 23:34; Psalm 109:8 fulfilled in Acts 1:20; Psalm 110:1 fulfilled in Matthew 22:44; Psalm 110:4 fulfilled in Hebrews 5:6; Psalm 118:22 fulfilled in Matthew 21:42; and Psalm 118:26 fulfilled in Matthew 21:9. Source: Nelson’s Complete Book of Bible Maps and Charts, 3^rd ed. (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1996), 180.

[ii] Isaiah 9:1-2 fulfilled in Matthew 4:13-16; Isaiah 9:7 fulfilled in Luke 1:32-33; Isaiah 40:3-5 fulfilled in John 1:19-28; Isaiah 50:6 fulfilled in Matthew 26:67; Isaiah 52:13 fulfilled in Philippians 2:9-10; Isaiah 52:14 and 53:2 fulfilled in Mark 15:15-19; Isaiah 53:5 fulfilled in 1 Peter 1:2; Isaiah 53:1, 3 fulfilled in John 12:37-38; Isaiah 53:4-5 fulfilled in Romans 4:25 and 1 Peter 2:24-25; Isaiah 53:6, 8 fulfilled in Romans 5:6, 8 and 2 Corinthians 5:21; Isaiah 53:7-8 fulfilled in Mark 15:4-5, John 10:11, and John 19:30; Isaiah 53:9 fulfilled in Matthew 27:57-60 and John 19:38-42; Isaiah 53:10-11 fulfilled in John 3:16 and Acts 16:31; Isaiah 53:12 fulfilled in Mark 27-28 and Luke 22:37; and Isaiah 61:1-2 fulfilled in Luke 4:18-19. Source: Nelson’s Complete Book of Bible Maps and Charts, 3^rd ed. (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1996), 207.

The Diligent Search of the Distressed Heart

Life is full of seasons, and sometimes those seasons bring distress and the heaviness of unanswered questions. Sometimes it seems like God is absent or at least inattentive. And if you’re like me, sometimes those thoughts about God are accompanied by feelings of guilt, because you know in your head that God is never absent from His children but your feelings don’t always line up with what you know. It is in situations like these that we can find great encouragement in God’s Word.

When reading Psalm 77 the other day, I was impressed by what a beautiful picture it contains of how we can respond when we are in distress. Before we dig in, take a moment and read the Psalm here.

Right away, it becomes clear that Asaph is in distress. His first words are, “I cry aloud to God,” implying that his inner angst has become so great that it spills out in vocal expression. In verse 2, we see that his distress is constantly with him both “in the day” and “in the night” and that there is no relief: “my soul refuses to be comforted.” Even thinking of God makes him groan (v. 3). Eventually, he becomes silent as his burden grows even greater: “I am so troubled that I cannot speak” (v. 4). In verse 5, Asaph begins to think about the distant past and desires to turn his thoughts to more pleasant things during the difficult night.

At the end of verse 6, comes a turning point: “Then my spirit made a diligent search:” What follows is a series of questions in which we can see Asaph’s confusion and doubt: “Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable? Has his steadfast love forever ceased? Are his promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” (vv. 7-9). These questions span the whole gamut of second-guessing God. Asaph assumes the Lord is actively against him and questions whether this rejection will last forever. He questions God’s attributes, wondering if His love is only temporary. He doubts God’s promises, asking if they have an expiration date. He questions whether God is absent-minded, thinking He might be forgetting to be true to His character. Finally, he considers again whether God is actively withholding His blessings out of anger.

Then we come to verse 10. At first, this verse seems to be another turning point, when reading the ESV. It reads, “Then I said, ‘I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High.’” However, when looking at the original Hebrew, it seems that other translations are more accurate, such as the NASB that reads, “Then I said, ‘It is my grief, That the right hand of the Most High has changed.’” In the Hebrew for this verse, there is a word that denotes grief, sickness, or weakness, so it makes sense to see verse 10 as a continuation of Asaph’s feelings of doubt.[i] He has questioned and seems to come to the conclusion that the answers to his questions are ‘yes, God has forsaken me.’

But Asaph doesn’t stop there. These questions are only the beginning of his “diligent search.” As soon as he acknowledges his feelings that God has abandoned him, he begins to preach to himself the truths he knows about God, anchored in the reality of God’s past actions and His eternal character. Even though his feelings led him to think of all these questions, he refuses to stop short of completing his search. He does not wallow in his doubt. Instead, he makes a conscious decision to “remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your wonders of old. I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds” (vv. 11-12). He once again turns his attention to the past, but this time his focus is more specific. Rather than generally “consider[ing] the days of old,” Asaph specifically remembers God’s hand in them.

Notice that he moves from just remembering to pondering and meditating. In other words, he first calls God’s actions to mind and then mulls them over, thinking about them deeply and purposefully. His conclusion is the recognition that “Your way, O God, is holy” (v. 13). As he continues to ponder, he asks another question—"What god is great like our God?”—to which the implied answer is, “None!” Asaph focuses on the supreme uniqueness of God and the perfect uprightness of His dealings with mankind.

Verse 11 marks another turning point, as we see Asaph move from talking about God to talking to Him. Perhaps it is meditating on the greatness and holiness of God that causes him to erupt in worship: “You are the God who works wonders; you have made known your might among the peoples” (v. 14). He acknowledges God’s power as well as His grace in revealing Himself not only to the Israelites, but to other peoples too.

For the rest of the Psalm Asaph recounts specific ways in which God’s sovereignty over nature was displayed (vv. 16-18), His tender care was exhibited (v. 20), and His redemptive plan was set in motion (v. 15). In verse 19, Asaph acknowledges that there were times when God was at work yet His “footprints were unseen.” In offering specific praise to God, Asaph reminds himself that the fact he cannot see God moving does not negate the fact that He is.

I hope you’ve seen by now that Psalm 77 not only teaches us about God, but it also provides us with a blueprint for how to care for our souls when suffering from a distressed heart. It shows us that it is okay to question and have moments of doubt, but that we should press through the doubt to the glorious assurance that awaits us on the other side as we discover anew the greatness and kindness and compassion of the God of Heaven. It shows us that we should preach to ourselves the Truth of who God is, reminding ourselves of what we know from experience and from the unfailing Word of God. It shows us that we should think deeply about what God has done and is doing for us, choosing to dwell on that rather than on our current distress.

My prayer is that if you are distressed today, you will find encouragement in Asaph’s psalm and, following his example, will make your own diligent search until you find the peace of God in Jesus Christ that comes from knowing Him, pondering His mighty works, and resting in His love and care for you.  

To read the Arabic translation of this post, click here.

لقراءة الترجمة العربية لهذا المنشور إضغط هنا.

PC: Cyndi Hackett. Used with permission.

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[i] Bible Hub. Strong’s Lexicon: Psalm 77:10. https://biblehub.com/parallel/psalms/77-10.htm. Accessed 27 October 2020. 

Gratitude 2.0

As Thanksgiving is approaching, I’m reminded of the importance of showing gratitude and specifically of directing that gratitude toward God for the many blessings He has given us, both material and spiritual. A couple of weeks ago, during my daily time in the Bible, I read Psalm 105 and was struck by the opening verses that find their echo in so many other passages of Scripture:

                        Oh give thanks to the Lord; call upon his name;
                                                                      make known his deeds among the peoples!

                              Sing to him, sing praises to him;
                                                                     tell of all his wondrous works!

                              (Psalm 105:1-2, ESV)

Note the connection between giving thanks to God and communicating the goodness of “his deeds” and “his wondrous works” to others. Reading this passage gives us the sense that the two actions go hand in hand. As I read these verses, I was reminded of one of my Sunday School teachers from high school. At the time, I was a member of a megachurch with an incredibly large youth group. There were several Sunday School classes for each age group, and we stayed in the same class for two years. So for my freshman and sophomore years of high school, I sat under the teaching of Mrs. Barham.

Each week before we got into the lesson, she would ask us how we had seen God at work during the previous week. It could be something we had seen in our own lives or in the lives of someone we knew. For a while not many, if any, of us were able to answer. But she kept asking, week after week, and eventually we started to pay attention and were able to share things that we had noticed, whether they were answers to prayer, provision of courage or peace in a certain situation, or something else, big or small.

Through Mrs. Barham’s persistence, we began to have our antennas up, as she would say, so that we were alert and watchful, anticipating seeing God work in some way throughout the week. After all, He is always at work; we only have to be looking and have our receivers tuned to the station of His Spirit. And by keeping the eyes of our face and our spirit open, we will find that we have much more to be thankful for as we see more and more of how God is protecting, providing for, and sustaining us and how He is moving in the lives of those around us.

This attentiveness doesn’t stop with our internal recognition of God’s goodness, though. Just as Mrs. Barham had us share with the class the ways in which we had seen God work, so the Psalmist calls us to share our observations with others. This second step can be considered Gratitude 2.0, where instead of merely thanking God privately (which is still important to do), we go a step further and broadcast our gratitude “among the peoples.” In doing so, we not only continue to ponder God’s goodness in our own hearts, but also we spread the gratitude around, allowing other people to join in the offering of thanksgiving. And in the process, God receives more and more glory, as He is praised not only in our hearts but through our mouths and in the hearts of others as well.

Another added benefit of upgrading your practice of gratitude to Gratitude 2.0 is that God could use your stories of seeing Him work to encourage others who are going through a season of fog. Maybe someone you know is having difficulty seeing God’s hand in their lives. Maybe they feel that He has forgotten about them. Maybe they’re having a hard time “tuning in” to the right station to be able to pick up a “clear signal” and are missing all the ways in which God is at work. Hearing your testimony of how you have seen God at work could be the tool that God uses to remind them of His goodness and grace. And there again, God’s glory will be magnified, which is the most important result of all.

So today I’d like to challenge you, as Mrs. Barham challenged me, to be watching, be aware, be attentive to God’s work in your life and in the world around you. If you’ve seen God move in some way this week, share in the comments below. Both things big and small are worthy of giving thanks for. And if you haven’t been watching, start today. Give yourself a week of intentionally paying attention; then come back and let us know in the comments what you’ve seen.

May we all continue to cultivate an awareness of God’s work, to give thanks to Him with our minds and in our hearts, and to share the accounts of His goodness with our family of faith and the watching world.

PC: Kelly Sterrett of Samila Designs

Find her on Facebook or Instagram. She takes commissions!

On Art, Language, and God: A Conversation with Nathan Bennett Adams (Part 3)

In Part 1 and Part 2, artist and poet Nathan Bennett Adams shared about his passion for language and art and how creating art can help us learn about who God is. Today, we finish the conversation looking at how art can be used to start theological conversations and how aspiring artists can hone their skills.

Olivia: What are some ways that artistic expression can be used to reach others with the good news of the Gospel?

Nathan: I kind of echoed this already, the fact that we as imperfect people, creatures, humans cannot replicate something perfectly is a good philosophical discussion. It’s a good theological reminder. So then, if you have that dilemma, then what do you do? If a chef—and this is something I’ve studied too—uses this language: “It is perfect,” and I think theologically, you’re like, “Mmm, nothing’s perfect other than Christ.” And it’s like, okay, good, and yet they’re trying to say something accurately, maybe they’re using a little bit of hyperbole. So then philosophically it does create a good discussion of: what are they saying? They executed something really freaking well. That’s what they’ve said.

This is something that a couple of poets have said and then a couple of theologians have said referring to the poet or the artist. Dorothy Sayers said something like this—that when a poet or artist approaches the page that’s blank, he or she takes on a moment of God. And it’s like—pause, I’m not saying you are God, so just don’t mishear what I’m saying. There’s something that isn’t there yet, and then you have a chance to bring something in. So then I’m just like, “That’s the imago Dei! That’s the imago Dei!” And then that is something that we can kind of get, with how creation was, right? So ex nihilo, out of nothing came something. That is so sick!

And I think that is what I would offer to answer that question: that there is—I guess you could almost say apologetically, but sometimes when people think of apologetics you think of like the big debate on the corner of a street. I am noticing that’s not really happening anymore; it does happen, but I’m thinking the small places. It’s usually at a dinner table. It’s usually at a coffee shop when you’re with a coworker. It’s sometimes when someone buys a piece of yours that you don’t know anything about, and then they ask you a question. They say, “Why do you do what you do, Nate? Why do you draw?” There’s a moment. I can at least drop a nugget and just let it be. I don’t need to give them the full spiel—it’s honestly just being sensitive to the Spirit, right? Like really pray over—and I think this is something that we should do—but pray over “What does need to be said right now?” I mean, if we’re supposed to lean on the Spirit when we pray, Paul says, then I’m like, dang, we need to be doing that when we open our mouths too, right.

So yeah, that there’s a start and an end to a piece, there’s forethought, there’s intentionality. That’s why I think postmodern art is a complete sham. Maybe not, I shouldn’t say all that, ‘cause there’s stuff that I see that’s really pretty. There’s stuff that I’m like, “That is very pretty.” And Anna and I have this talk all the time, ‘cause there’s times where I go to an art gallery—and this is something that Schaeffer talks about, but most philosophers talk about this too: that art, if you pay attention to the art world, predates philosophy. So philosophers respond to the artists. ‘Cause the artists, let’s just say, are dealing with the ideas now, so then they start putting it out, then the philosophers talk about what’s going on.

So I am noticing, ‘cause I consider myself like a Renaissance Man who’s definitely a philosopher in mind, that I go to some of these galleries, and I see most work is abstract, predominantly abstract. And then what’s also kinda becoming annoying, which a lot of people are starting to have this discussion (and I say “a lot of people”—I’m bumping into podcasts or YouTube where they’re starting to have this discussion) of like, “We want meaning.” So when the artist starts saying that there is no meaning. What happens? This is what’s so funny: apologetically or metaphorically in writing a poem or an essay, people get this intuitively. You walk into a museum, you go to a spot, you see something, and it’s like “Untitled; this has no meaning”? They’re like, “What the heck is that?!” People kinda get frustrated. They’re like, “Why did he do that?” or “What does that mean?” They’re looking for someone in the museum, like, “Hey, can you please describe this to me?”

And I go, “That’s a metaphor for the philosophy of language!” That we desire and crave meaning and order. And, and, I would argue, we want objective truth. We desire it. We want something to stand and refer to the rest of the world. But if we have no ground—everyone knows what no ground looks like: it looks like people running to safe ground. We know this in earthquakes. We know this in sinking sand. Your first inclination is to move, get out of this junk. And then it’s like, “Oh, gravel,” all of a sudden you’re kinda slipping on a walk, slipping, slipping, slipping, you want to go to what? A bigger rock! It’s so intuitive. And I’m like, this is philosophically so sick—and theologically too.

Yeah, that there is objective truth to reality. There is something good about the relationship between an artist and the audience, and I think what I am noticing in conversations that I have the opportunity to have is that people are ripe for meaning and they want meaning. They want order. And I think when you have a piece that doesn’t have meaning it gets really loud. Just like when you watch a movie, and all of a sudden it just ends, you’re like, “What was that?!” And everybody’s like *gasp*. And then what do people mostly say? “I wanna talk to the artist.” “I wanna talk to the director, the screenwriter. Why the heck did you make that decision? Please tell me there’s some reason you did that, right?” You want it.

So yeah, I think that’s a big piece to your question. We crave order and meaning. And we’re participants in it. I think that’s something that’s really loud about the Christian heritage is that we’re not pragmatically brought into the story of Yahweh to just conveyor-belt, like do-your-part-and-carry-on, but we’re participants. And that is freaking awesome. That gets me boosted. That is a declaring; that’s a very loving, beautiful, kind God that He would invite us in. Get outta here, man! So I’m getting hyped on a whole bunch of things right now. But, yeah, the good news is that when you look at that blank page, you want to create, and I think apologetically or philosophically you can have a question of like, “Why do you desire to create at all?” That’s a fun thing.

Olivia: What advice do you have for budding artists out there?

Nate: Yeah, this is another one I get. This is good, but I would almost go back to what I said in my first class. One thing I shared at that, is I said from the very beginning, “Humans are not perfect.” Or maybe I phrased it as a question: “Is the human perfect?” There’s a whole bunch of kids and adults; it’s like we all need to hear this. “No.” “Can we produce perfection?” “No.” “K, good. So we’ve agreed upon some really big premises that are gonna springboard us throughout the rest of this class.” And I think that’s honestly what I would share. That, and then the next step is probably the pragmatic, “Yeah, Nate, you just told me something I already know.” Right, so then, it’s the next thought of now you can do something with this *laugh* revolutionary knowledge, that you are acting more human when you acknowledge that. And when you go to be an artist, when you go to art, draw, create, that gives you a giant ability to deep-breath and relax.

And then if I’m talking to a believer, I think you have a moment where you’re dealing with worship, like leaning in towards Yahweh. You’re not worshiping the thing of the final result. You’re heading into that it’s beyond just creating to create. And then for the nonbeliever who’s interested in being an artist… yeah, I think you’re interacting with a lot of presuppositions, and I think a lot of them are really really true. And it’s like, ask those questions of, “Why create at all? Why is there aesthetics?” It’s not an accident that almost all philosophers were pondering or baffled by aesthetics. Regardless of whether they didn’t land theistically on something, they at least pondered that this is extremely powerful. “And all humans like this? Huh, that’s really weird…”

And I also would say—and everyone says this, and I have to remind myself of this too—but practice. Practice, practice. We all know this, but I think there’s something with art specifically that I think it’s hard for people to grasp practicing. “What does it mean to practice as an artist? That’s weird. It’s not a scale at a piano, or it’s not a violin and I know how to practice hitting my finger to that spot and then practicing my vibrato. Do I just keep drawing the same thing over and over again? That’s kinda boring.” And I’m like, “You’re right. That does feel boring. That does sound boring.” But as an athlete, one thing that I would contribute to this discussion is that an athlete still practices passes, he still practices a layup, like the most simple, “duh” thing about the sport. And they do dribbling drills. Are you for real? How to dribble the ball up and down the court, like the most primitive thing of basketball, right? Or soccer drills!

If you’re not an athlete, it’s sometimes a hard metaphor to grasp, ‘cause like, “I never did that.” So then as a pianist, you understood scales helped. Why? The flexibility of your fingers, the fluidity of the rhythm within your fingers, the touch of the keys—I used to play piano, so I’m talking a little bit from experience. So then, carry a sketchbook. Draw whatever. Draw whatever. And then one thing I’d specifically say is—“Whatever, Nate? Oh my gosh, that’s too big, I don’t even know what to do with that! My parents tell me that all the time.” Then grab something that’s in your house, and put it in front of you, and draw it. Grab a thing of scissors. Put it in front of you and draw scissors. If that’s not beautiful—and I think that’s something I bumped into earlier, you wanted to draw something beautiful, you wanted to draw something pretty, there’s something 100% admirable about that, so like, hold to that, but think of it as a separate thing that you wanna practice. This is your practice lane; these are your dribbling practices. ‘Cause it helps your eyes. It helps your eyes-to-your-hand relationship.

And when I research some of the high-end artists out there, whether comic books, illustrators for like The New Yorker to L.A. Times to a game, like a board game, those kind of illustrators too, they all talk about what I’m talking about right now. So I’m like, if the pros are saying this, then I should pay attention: still draw things that are right in front of you; finish, don’t finish, but you have to put in the line work. You have to put in the practice.

And I guess the last thing I would say is worry about your style later. I have to tell myself that, “Your style will come later.” So a lot of people just say, “Draw what you like, and if you like anime, draw anime.” But don’t forget to draw something that’s in front of you. ‘Cause I think a lot of the times when I hear about people who only draw anime, but they can’t draw a glass that’s in front of them, then I notice. I’m like, “You’re missing really big things that are gonna help you out when you draw an anime figure or background. ‘Cause then you’re dealing with color; you’re dealing with shape; you’re dealing with lights; you’re dealing with volumes.” When you have an image in front of you, you can’t argue with it. It’s like, here it is. “Oh wow, my line was really off here. Why was it off?” You can look at it.

So. Practice. Enjoy it. It’s not like, “Do what makes you happy.” I kinda hate that mantra that’s happening in today’s world. I’m like, “That’s not a complete thought! You can’t do that!” *laugh* Yeah, but just draw whatever’s in front of you, and carry a sketchbook. I think a sketchbook is helpful, ‘cause then if you don’t like something and it’s garbage, just turn the page! But draw it in the sketchbook, ‘cause then it’s there. And that’s something I would finally end with saying—an imperfect line is more true; it’s just more true to reality. So I think I’m offering something philosophical there, but throw away a pencil, and just do something with a pen for a long time. And then if you wanna do graphite—‘cause there are plenty of graphite artists that are like *whew*, it’s stunning what they can do—but a pen, like hitting a piano key, it’s a commitment. And if you hit it, you know you did it right or not.

I hope you’ve enjoyed “listening in” to this conversation and have found points to ponder whether it be God’s creativity, His invitation to us to participate in that creativity, the vastness of who God is, how we can look at art, language, food, nature, sport—anything in life—and learn about God from it, and so much more. If you’d like to follow Nate on his artistic journey, you can find him on Instagram @nathan.b.adams. He also accepts commission requests! Until next time, enjoy pondering the depths of our creative God!

On Art, Language, and God: A Conversation with Nathan Bennett Adams (Part 2)

Last time, I shared the beginning of my conversation with my friend Nathan Bennett Adams about his perspective as an artist and poet who follows Christ. If you missed Part 1, be sure to check it out here to read about how Nate’s relationship with God expanded his interests and to see his thoughts on photorealism, human creativity, and how human creativity reflects the reality of who God is. We pick up in Part 2 with the rest of Nate’s thoughts on this topic:

Olivia: […] What does creating art, whether through words or visuals, teach you about God as Creator? Or, what things about Him does creating art help you reflect on? 

Nathan: This is a word that I picked up a while ago. I think ‘aesthetic’ is understudied. I think the fact that we live in a world, not even just pregnant with beauty, but overflowing with beauty needs to remind us that God is interested in stuff that’s gratuitous.

And the other thing I’ve been freakin’ out about is: God within His creative right… There’s a couple times I’ve just taken a walk and you see certain things like the shape of certain tree leaves. No joke—was at some random spot just seeing some fish go by. The tail of this fish was identical to a leaf of a tree. I’m already thinking about what I just shared with you: “within God’s creative right, He can” and then I just completed that sentence. Within God’s creative right, He can repurpose. He can take something He’s “sketched,” spoken into existence—“I’m gonna repurpose that [leaf] and put it on the tail of a fish.” And it’s like identical. I’m not kidding! And then this is why as an artist that metaphor helps me know I’ve drawn the fish tail well, if I can pluck off this branch and just take it to my desk: “Yeah, that’s a funky fin. I wanna use that. I’ll just draw this leaf.”

So this declares to me, to come back to a very specific answer to your question, that God is layered. He layers reality. There are so many intricate details that the poet side of me observes a lot. And a poem that I wrote a while ago is that—it’s very short—but it’s, “I want to poem like a scientist,” because scientists look at the small details. They have to go way in to see something. And the poet has a role that he or she is going way into something in reality, and they’re tinkering; they’re poking around; they’re trying certain things out. So my poet eyes look upon reality and metaphor, and then my artist side would want to then put it back out or draw it. It’s not accidental.

And I’ve been having fun with that question: “It is not an accident that _____.” And those are really good lunch conversation starters. It’s not an accident that—whatever. It’s not an accident that we have taste buds. Or it’s not an accident that food gives us joy. And I’m like, back to gratuitous, we could have been a primate, we could have been an animal that all we do is eat—for what? Energy. And think of how many people treat food that way: “I just need to eat for lunch, because I need to get back to work.”  And I’m like, wow, in that we have shown maybe a disordering of how we interact with reality, that maybe I’m not looking at work correctly, I’m not looking at body correctly, and I’m not looking at food correctly. And all of a sudden, I take a couple moments, and I see in Colossians that we can eat to the glory of Yahweh? That’s tying back to His creativeness, that He can layer reality in a way that [in] everything we have an option to participate in pointing back to Yahweh. And then that’s worship?? Are you kidding me?? That is so dope! It declares His realness.

Another thing, too, it just shows He’s a good storyteller. He’s a mastermind, right. So any kind of mastermind, we exalt. We kinda naturally see, “Wow, that was really clever; that was intentional; wow, that was really good design,” when you think of someone who’s invented something. And I wonder if we’ve gotten lazy or assumptive with Yahweh in those ways. And this is something I’ve been really careful with too because, “Nate, you’re an artist, you’re a poet, of course you do that. Of course you go on a walk, and you see a flower, and blah-blah-blah.” And ever since I was a Christian, I was so bothered by that type of response. Because my story did have such a contrast, that [people would say], “Of course you see God that way, because He saved you from blah-blah-blah.” And I’m like, don’t rob yourself of that! If we all have sinned . . . grace covers us and shapes us and reshapes us.

And one of the things that G. K. Chesterton says is that the mathematician—he will go mad. Why? Because he is trying to logically explain everything. And he’s like, “Consider the poet.” The poet is actually looking at a problem or a conflict and looking to explore it. And then he uses a very simple example right after that: that a mathematician would want to put heaven in his mind—he’d want to put it in his mind—and then with that, his head will explode; the poet wants to just put his head in the heavens. I was like, “That is so good!” Think of the posture difference. – And one thing that needs to be clarified (because when you quote somebody, if you don’t clarify, you’d be like, “Wow, Nate doesn’t like math,” or “He doesn’t like logical thinking or reasoning”):  that’s just a good example of prioritizing or emphasizing.

So that has helped me, has really become a sown-in piece of fabric in my creed of “I want to see God big.” I want Him to break through my boxes when I’m tempted to put Him in a box. He shows that His reality is actually really big, and it’s really worthy of exploring. And I’m not talking about just His nature, I’m talking about His love, His graciousness, His patience—oh my gosh is He patient—He’s slow to anger. The other thing about what I have seen in being creative and Yahweh, is I’ve seen how it’s an invitation to kind of partake in His divine nature. So that really strong commission that we see in 1 Peter. Like ohhh snap. Those are ways in which I see specifically God’s creativity. And he spoke things into existence, man.

That’s why I think, going back to ‘we’re not perfect,’ therefore we’re not God, therefore when I go to replicate reality, I need to keep that close. And that helps me out a lot. So art has shown me and reminded me of how much I am not perfect. Reality is broken. And when I talk about the whole ‘you’re not perfect’—pursuing that when I draw is a good reminder of that. I’m not discrediting photorealism artists. The amount of skill that goes into it is bananas. So I don’t want to be misunderstood there too. That’s just as beautiful. They’re doing their best to replicate reality as true as it is. That’s a good commission or pursuit. If that’s your stylistic pursuit, amen for that, pursue that. But let’s start here where, because you’re imperfect, [you] accept your imperfect lines.

And so what I do is I force people to use just a pen, no pencil, so you have to accept your imperfect lines. That is something I did, so I saw the benefits of that. There’s no middle ground. You did it. You did your best, so you pursued it, and you messed up. You learn from your mistake, instead of a pencil [where] you can erase it. An athlete can never go back and erase it. So it’s kind of like that. So I wanted to share that because, an artist who declares reality is not right (there’s something that still needs to be redeemed, it’s not correct yet, it’s not perfect)—I think that’s good. I think that’s necessary.

So there’s a lot of times when uncomfortable images or words can be used edifyingly. It can be edifying. And I totally agree with Schaeffer, ‘cause he talked about that a lot. Flannery O’Connor did that a lot. She had pretty heavy stories and pretty heavy endings that weren’t resolved. I get it, we do have a story that ends in redemption, amen. We do have that. But I think, in ways, sometimes a reality snippet in that small line is that “This doesn’t feel redeemed yet. I do still feel like this is still bumpy roads at best right now. I don’t see the smooth road yet.” So I really appreciate when artists, filmmakers, storytellers, I can see sometimes illustrators, have a lot of creative license where they can do some really powerful stuff. Do you remember that quote by C. S. Lewis of the fear that we would become heads on sticks?

Olivia: I don’t think so…

Nathan: That we would basically become minds only without the heart, soul, strength? We would only become mind. And it looks pretty graphic, right? Because you’re just drawing a head on this stick. And I drew it, and I was like, “That’s really powerful!” So then I’ve kept that as a metaphor for me, that if I can illustrate certain things that I’ve been saying, like what if I drew a person without a mouth? They’re mouthless. Kinda like that Matrix scene where Neo was being forced to close his mouth—when we don’t value our words, if we become mouthless, what kind of world would we live in? And so I’ve thought about that, like ways in which I can depict reality or ideas, and it may be grotesque. So, you know a jellyfish has a heart but no mind?

Olivia: Oh wow.

Nathan: I drew one time a body of a man and a jellyfish just on his head. And I was like, this is a dilemma, that I think sometimes manhood has gotten into—that we’ve operated just without thinking. And I wrote another side to it too: but if you put in the other perspective, where it’s just mind and no heart there’s a dilemma here too. If you’re just heart and no mind, there’s another dilemma as well. So I think, again, that’s why I bring it back to—you don’t always have to illustrate something “beautiful.”   

Olivia: So you kind of touched on this already, but is there anything else you’d like to say about how we can worship God through art?

Nathan:  One thing that I would tie to that theologically is a study I did on what is worship. ‘Cause I think we all know, but sometimes we associate it with just music. “Worship was good today. I didn’t really dig the message.” There’s something there, that our words are forming something—and just pay attention to that. We should at least talk about that.

Worship is closely tied, Old Testamently to the fear of Yahweh. And I think that’s really crucial to keep that close—that the fear of Yahweh leads to worship. And I came up with a line of thought that what you fear is what you worship, what you worship is what you love. We are designed for worship. I think that’s probably the first start with answering your question. We’re designed to glorify Yahweh. It’s within our fabric; it’s within our DNA. So then, we see this, sometimes loudly, when it’s not directed to Yahweh. We worship still, because we’re made to, but other things than Yahweh.

And, yeah, I think I see it in the way I do art, like if I start being bothered or craving praise by my art, and I’m noticing—“why do I do my art? Why do I ‘art’ anything? Is it out of worship?” I can say “yes” all I want, but maybe in the middle of doing it I notice I’m having a lot of cravings, then I notice that back here I’m really not believing I’m doing it—or living out of “I’m doing this unto Yahweh.” And I can’t tell you how many times it has happened in the middle of a commission, and the lines aren’t working, or I keep messing up at a certain spot. And I’ll say this out loud: “Am I doing this unto Yahweh’s glory?” That usually is a definitive moment where beforehand I’m getting bothered and I’m not worshipping. Joy is very close to worship too theologically.

But I would think that, yeah if you’re worshipping Yahweh, it’s not just something you should do, or even like called to do. I’m saying like designed. You were made to. It is like you can’t help but do it. You’re gonna worship all the time. That’s what’s even scarier. That’s why it’s a tough pill. It’s like: you’re gonna worship—that’s a sentence—and it should be Yahweh. And I’m noticing now that matters a whole bunch.

To be continued….

Stay tuned for Part 3, where we talk about art in relation to gospel conversations and Nate gives some advice for those interested in developing their art skills.

To follow Nathan on his artistic journey, find him on Instagram @nathan.b.adams

On Art, Language, and God: A Conversation with Nathan Bennett Adams (Part 1)

So far in the Conversations series here on An Iris Awaits, we’ve looked at the topics of mission, Bible word studies, ethics, and human trafficking. Today, I’m excited to delve into another group of topics that might not seem all that related at first until you really start thinking about it—which is exactly what a conversation with Nathan Bennett Adams will help you do.

I met Nate in college when we took a class together that involved meeting weekly in our professor’s home (Matt Benson’s, actually, who was featured in the first Conversations post) and traveling to study at L’Abri in England over spring break (when the below photo of us was taken). Nate’s enthusiasm, intellect, and spoken word poetry inspired me during that time to consider things in different ways and to actually express the excitement I felt about the things of God. After college, Nate continued sharing his poetry and speaking about language in venues such as TEDx. He married Anna, another graduate of our school, and together they moved to Italy to serve at Saints Bible Institute for a couple of years before moving back to Tennessee. Nate has spent the last several years honing his talents in the visual arts, and one of his commissioned pieces is featured in the header of this very blog!

A few weeks ago, Nate and I had a chance to catch up over the phone. As an athlete, poet, and artist, Nate brings a unique perspective to the table, and I welcome you to listen in on our conversation regarding language, art, God’s character, and how we relate to Him. Unlike previous Conversations posts, where the conversation has happened through writing, this post is an edited transcription of a vocal conversation.

Olivia: Okay, so first off, how did you become interested in spoken word and visual art?  

Nathan:  It starts at my salvation for me. So I was saved later in life, like 21/22 when it happened. Yahweh pulled me out of a lot of muck, a lot of gross and . . . not-life. He pulled me from death to life. And what ties very closely to my desire for poetry—and then spoken word—is my learning disability.

So I was diagnosed with a learning disability at a very early age, and schooling, all things learning, all things reading and memorizing and spelling . . . all intellectually learning was just brutally difficult. And I just kind of separated, and I was an athlete, and I was a very good one, so I was like, “There’s something I could invest my energy into” and that was soccer, right? Sports came very easy to me. I enjoyed them; I enjoyed the very acute trial and error, risk and reward, and then the quick learning that happens in sports.

So this whole trial-and-error-system, gets-saved, strong-athlete side of me, and then God shows me that thinking about Him is like the basis—not just thinking about Him intellectually, like stroking your beard with a pipe in the corner (there’s room for that), but I think there is this space that I had a reason to then think hard. I had a reason to philosophize. I had a reason to think about, “Oh my gosh, all things are connected?!—to Yahweh?! Like there’s a source to all of this? And that just got me boosted! I just had a reason to study now. I had a reason to think or consider things.

It all started with theological stuff and slowly started spreading in some of my own personal history, so I saw how much—I never read a book! Like, Olivia, I read what I needed to, but then when Yahweh took over, I saw things worthy of learning; I’m learning about His world. That’s a completely different paradigm.

And I just started getting excited about words, and then one day I think I was going through some YouTube videos, and I came across spoken word. And I’ve always liked hip-hop, so this is like another connecting piece to spoken word. Yeah, hip-hop has always been fascinating to me. Even rhyme, right, that someone like Shakespeare writes a play; it’s in rhythm; there’s a cadence to it; there’s a story being told, and we’re getting the rhythm. It’s not much communication of like, “Hey pay attention, I’m gonna explain something to you: there’s a thing called rhyme, and it’s coming.” You don’t have to do that; we get it. And that’s really cool.

And my dad was the first one to encourage me to start writing poetry, and it was because I showed him a spoken word piece that was connected to a girl’s testimony. And my dad just said, “You should write your story.” And then the first poem I ever wrote was an extremely long—oh my gosh it needed editing!—but a poem, it was a spoken word piece that I just wrote my whole story. And hanging out with me, if you ever catch me around a fire or a 1-on-1, I wanna be authentic and genuine and real, so my first story was pretty raw. That started there. Spoken word and poetry was probably my first pursuit in these two art forms.

And drawing was always around. I drew occasionally because my dad was a landscape architect. I liked being creative, and again, remember, the intellect world was not what I passed my time with. So drawing occasionally, sports for sure. Drawing was kind of around, it just kinda just stayed around, but I never took it seriously. I was decent, but I never studied it. I only took three classes my whole life, one in middle school, one in high school, one in college, and they’re all basically Intro to Drawing. It wasn’t really serious. And then, segue. . . 

Italy was probably when I started taking drawing really seriously, and it’s when I saw the street artists—their use of color, the looseness. It wasn’t tight. And when I say tight, I’ll define that real quick: I think sometimes we have the perception that drawings need to be a real illustration of reality, and what that’s called is photorealism. And I think there’s a real significant conversation that needs to happen around that topic, because most people say, “I can’t draw,” and they’re thinking about photorealism. I’ve had a couple times when I taught, people would ask, “Hey, I just don’t like my drawing…” So then, I’m noticing that there’s something that’s pretty rhythmic about people and drawing and how they relate to it. And it’s like, “It doesn’t look good. I don’t like it. It doesn’t look like…it. It doesn’t look like it.”

And I kept on observing and read a couple books, and the more and more I kept the sketch books, I started noticing that an artist who’s doing a visual work—you’re supposed to replicate reality, not like bring it out of reality and put it back on a piece of paper. So you’re supposed to just replicate it; you’re supposed to be similar to it; you’re not creating reality.  And I think that’s a really big philosophical change, ‘cause then your drawings, if you’ve seen some of mine, there are times when like a one-line drawing exercise is really handsome. It looks really good. And why? Because you get it as the audience, I get it as the drawer/renderer, it communicates successfully. And I’m like, wow, why is that sometimes more successful than someone who tries their best to do an apple as real as possible, and then everyone steps back, and they’re like, “This looks like garbage,” or “I don’t like it,” or “It doesn’t look good.”

So that got me excited philosophically, that I think the artist’s role, one of their roles, is to replicate reality, to address looking upon reality. And it doesn’t need to be photorealism, because you’re dealing with perfection at that point. And a lot of artists talk about this, but people talk about this too, so I’m like, “wow, there’s a lot of cross-over here”: to pursue to be perfect is an endless goal, it’s gonna be only a dud. And we all understand that philosophically, but when someone gets to a piece of paper, and they draw it, they actually see the conflict of it a lot. So.

Drawing started in Italy, and I just started keeping a sketchbook, and right around that time, there’s a whole bunch of materials on YouTube I found and then two books I found that emphasize this point: Loosen up. And then I studied a lot that a lot of greats did these one-line exercises. Put it down. Render it quick. Give yourself 30 seconds. And then I saw some of these street artists again, so it was kinda like a lot of dominos happened that encouraged me, and I was like, “Oh my gosh, that’s right, I did want to be a landscape architect!” So I just sketched a lot of buildings and studied urban sketching.

So Italy was primitive for that block in drawing and illustrating, and then poetry, spoken word—that was really serious, I mean I thought I was gonna be a traveling speaker, which I kind of did. I did that after my TEDx. A lot of people asked me to start (universities) guest lecturing, and then Italy happened, so kinda all put that on pause, but yeah, that’s a full answer to how that started.

Olivia: Yeah. That’s so cool. All right, so what does creating art, whether through words or visuals, teach you about God as Creator? Or, what things about Him does creating art help you reflect on? 

Nathan: I think I would start off by saying that this is a question that all humans should wrestle with. Because if we are all creative, and this is something I’ve had to learn how to defend because people sometimes can get very stubborn of like, “I’m not creative.” And what they’re trying to say semantically is, “I’m not an artist,” and if they’re wanting to make that distinction, that’s fine. But to say that they’re not creative is to deny a very core [part of their humanity]. In their semantics they’re not doing a good job of identifying it—but every human is creative. Every human is creative.

And it’s funny, because even when I say that, I’ve had people who are like “Mmm…?” ‘cause then they’re doing the artist thing, they’re doing the replication, [and thinking] “I’m not an artist.” And I’m like, “If you got dressed today, you put together some color combinations however you wanted to, but you put them together. If you made cereal, if you put toast in . . . there’s things in which you’re deducing, you’re grabbing materials, and you’re making something. That is what a creative person does—grabs materials that already exist, receives them or forms them into something. I’m like, “That’s creative.” That’s a very basic premise.

So, yeah, the creativeness of what this declares about Yahweh, man . . . it’s vast. I think that’s my first inclination, is that within His infinite mind . . . and it’s good, right. It’s that big and wide, when He goes to create it’s within His right to have a lot of details and intricacies. And let me give you an example. I’ve recently been blown away by this. I’ve been like freakin’ out. So I’m doing a little garden here. We have pots; this is a cute little apartment, we have a little balcony. And one thing I’ve been shocked by, and impressed, and it’s led me to meditate and ponder more is how colors within our natural world start with green a lot of the times. It starts at green, then it blossoms to a color.

And that’s been fascinating to me, because green kind of gets a poo-pooed posture. People are like, “Yeah, I mean green’s like, whatever. It’s cute; it’s good for balance.” And I’m like, yeah, that’s true; that’s all true. But do all colors—earth’s colors—start at green?  Does it kinda spread off from there? That is very true in vegetables. A tomato starts green and then it can head towards a yellow, which is like a cherry, grape tomato. Jalapenos, same thing. Starts at green, and if you leave it longer on the stem, it will go to a purple, and then sometimes to a red. So I’m kinda freaking out, like God is hilarious—so creative.

To be continued…

In Part 2, we’ll keep discussing what art teaches us about God and ourselves. To follow Nathan on his artistic journey, find him on Instagram @nathan.b.adams

Christians and the Vote: 2020 Edition

Four years ago I wrote the following post in the weeks leading up to the presidential election. Since the question of how Christians should be involved in civic activities, such as voting, is always a topic in need of consideration, I decided to repost this entry with a few contextual edits for this election cycle.

As with last election season, there seem to be two poles of perspective among those who claim the name of Christ: one that emphasizes our American citizenship and one that emphasizes our citizenship in the Kingdom of God. Yet focusing on only one of these aspects of our identity fails to address the complexity of our reality.

We are Christians, yes. And as Christians, our primary allegiance is to Christ and to His Kingdom. There’s an interesting complexity to His Kingdom, though, in that it is in an “already/not yet” state of being. In other words, His Kingdom has arrived, and we believers are currently part of it, but it has not yet reached its completeness. Because of the “not yet” aspect of His Kingdom, earthly “kingdoms” still exist, and every human is a part of one—even Christians. 

As Christians who believe in the sovereignty of God, we believe that God ordained when and where we would live, what family we would be born into, and what earthly “kingdom” we would be a part of. So for those of us who are citizens of the United States, we are that (and are not citizens of another country) because God has placed us in this particular context at this particular time in history. The same can be said for all people no matter what country they are a part of. So we are Christians who happen (by God’s plan) also to be Americans during our time on this earth. That is who we are.

Here’s where I can see the first wave of objections rising: “If our allegiance is to Christ, then what should it matter what country we are a part of? Shouldn’t we only be concerned about matters of His Kingdom? Our identity is rooted in Christ; should we even recognize “American” as part of our identity?"  

Remember that Christ did not save us in a vacuum. And He did not whisk us straight to heaven when He saved us. He left us here in our specific context to live out our salvation (not to earn it, but to demonstrate it). God does not negate our earthly life when He brings us into His kingdom; He redeems it.

Let me ask—what if we framed the above objections in reference to our families? After all, as Christians we are children of God, right? Right. “So if He is our Father, what should it matter what earthly family we are a part of? Shouldn’t we only be concerned about matters of His Family?” [The answer to that rhetorical question is no.]

I hope this makes it a little clearer to see that God does not absolve us of our earthly responsibilities when he brings us into His kingdom. We are still the children of our parents and the parents of our children; we are still to honor and take care of our earthly family. Similarly, being a Christian informs our citizenship, but it does not absolve us of our civic duty. We are still citizens of the United States; we are still to honor those in authority over us, to pay our taxes, and—to vote.

And here we reach the controversial topic: voting as a Christian. I’ve attempted to establish thus far why I believe Christians should vote. The question then follows—yes, but how are we to vote?

I think it is helpful to look to Jeremiah’s letter to the Jewish exiles in Babylon for an applicable principle. The Jews are living in an earthly kingdom that is not the nation God established for His own chosen people; they are living in the pagan Babylon that does not recognize God’s authority. The prophet Jeremiah, still in Jerusalem, writes to the exiles and relates to them God’s command to settle in to their current location and to invest in their current community (Jeremiah 29:4-6).

Then God tells the Jews, “But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (Jeremiah 29:7, ESV). Note that He didn’t tell them to try to get other Jews in leadership positions in the royal government. Nor did He call them to isolate themselves from the community or to bemoan the fact that their Babylonian political leaders were not honoring God. He simply called them to seek the welfare of their city and to pray for it.

Today, as Christians who are Americans, we are God’s chosen people who are living in an earthly country that is not the kingdom God established for His Church. (For more on the “Christian nation” mentality, see my previous post on providentialism.) Because America is not equivalent to the Church, there are different standards the leaders of each must meet. For leaders of the Church (e.g. pastors and deacons), we look to Scripture to see the necessary qualifications.

But America is not the Church. Just as we would not expect or require unbelievers to live according to the standards of God’s Word to which we hold believers, so we should not expect or require the leaders of the United States to meet the qualifications of leaders of the Church. This means, among other things, that a person does not have to be a Christian to be worthy of our vote.

Some might argue that this is compartmentalizing our faith from the rest of our life, and I agree that compartmentalizing our faith is wrong. But there is a difference between compartmentalizing and making a distinction. I am not suggesting we wall off our duties as a citizen from our Christian convictions. Our Christianity should inform our decision-making in every aspect of life. But what I am suggesting is that we can and should make a distinction between the requirements we hold for leaders and members of the Church and those we hold for leaders in the earthly country called the United States.

Yes, it would be awesome if we had leaders who had been saved by Jesus Christ and who actively sought to honor Him in all that they do. But there is such a thing as common grace, i.e. God has graciously equipped people who are not His children with talents and success and some degree of wisdom. Because of this grace, it is possible for an unregenerate person to make good decisions and to lead well.

Also, it’s important to keep in mind that sometimes there may not be any Christian candidates. Now, here, I know some would argue that we should write-in someone who is a believer or who at least is “morally upright,” but I would reiterate that being a Christian is not a qualification for holding elected office in the United States—and would add that neither is being “morally upright.”

“Man, she’s really going off the deep end now. How can you honor Christ and vote for someone who isn’t morally upright?” It’s a valid question. But I would answer it with another one: who is morally upright? Every single one of us, Christian or not, has deep moral flaws—including every single candidate that is on the ballot or that could be written in. Some flaws manifest themselves differently than others, and some are more public than others, but they are all flaws, nonetheless.

The only difference Christians can boast is the indwelling Holy Spirit Who can help us overcome our flaws. But again, the “not yet” aspect of God’s kingdom means that even Christians will still fail to live perfectly holy, upright lives. Just because someone is a Christian does not mean they will always make wise decisions. “Yes, but at least they are governed by Christ.” Okay, so if that is what we most care about, then we’re back to saying we should vote for Christians.

For the sake of discussion, let’s say, yes, sure, we should vote for a Christian. But what if a Christian isn’t on the ballot? “Then write one in.” But what if your state’s laws prevent you from writing in? Do you just not vote? I hope I’ve shown with the first half of this post that the answer to that is “no—you should vote.”  So what then?

If we should vote, and voting for a Christian is not an option, then how do we decide whom to vote for? I would suggest looking two places—1) to the place that outlines the qualifications for elected officials and 2) to the passage in Jeremiah. For President, for instance, the requirements are that a person be a natural born citizen, at least 35 years old, and have lived in the U.S. for at least fourteen years (see Article II, Section I of the U.S. Constitution). Once those requirements have been met, then I believe we should choose the candidate whom we believe will best foster our country’s welfare (see Jeremiah 29:7 above)—and by “welfare” I don’t mean government programs, I mean general well-being.

This means looking at the candidates’ policies and records—their stances on the issues and their specific plans for decision-making and action/inaction. The reality is that we are choosing people who will be leading (and hopefully serving) our country by making decisions that will affect the well-being of our people. Hypothetically, let’s say that there are two candidates whom we equally consider to be people of character but who have very different views on a particular issue. I believe we should choose the one whose policies most align with what we believe will lead to the welfare of our nation.

And it is here that being a Christian helps inform our decision. What does Scripture have to say about the issues facing our nation? And for the ones Scripture does not specifically address, what are the biblical principles that help us shape our understanding of them? Once we have educated ourselves on the issues and given prayerful consideration to a biblical stance on them [which involves actually reading the Bible—in context], we should look at where each of the candidates stand and choose the one who most matches up with our beliefs.

In this way, I believe we can be honoring to God by fulfilling the responsibilities of the earthly citizenship He has granted us. Voting for the people we believe to best represent biblical positions on the issues and praying for our elected officials are two ways we can seek the welfare of the country/state/city God has ordained as our earthly home. May He grant us wisdom and a gracious spirit in interacting with our fellow believers and citizens in the weeks and months ahead.