The Spirit of Creativity

Christians often debate what it means to be "filled with the Holy Spirit." On one end of the debate spectrum Pentecostals are accused of being fanatical in their emphasis on tongue-speaking and healing as evidences of the Spirit's presence. On the other end of the spectrum Presbyterians are accused of not putting enough (if any) emphasis on the Spirit's ministry. Somewhere in the middle, Baptistic and non-denominational contemporary churches that draw large crowds of suburban Promise Keepers are sometimes accused of insinuating that emotional expressiveness in the worship service is the key indicator that "the Spirit is moving".

While these debates may have a place, it is interesting that when this topic is discussed and debated, a key passage of the Bible goes strangely unmentioned: Exodus 31:1-5.

These 5 verses deal with a man named Bezalel. Not a well known character in the Scriptures.

Who was he? The first person to be said to be filled with the Holy Spirit.

What was the result of the Spirit's filling? He became an artist. He created. He skillfully made crafts of exquisite beauty. This was his ministry, and according to verse 3, the very purpose for which God filled him.

This shouldn't seem odd to us-- after all, the first verses of the Bible make clear that as the Spirit of God hovered over the surface of the earth, a cacophony of creating erupted upon the scene. And God "saw that it was good."

But why is this not discussed more often? Could it be that it seems rather uninteresting to us when compared to the thought of having an extraordinary spiritual experience? Perhaps, but isn't the pleasure of great music, beautiful art, and a well-written movie an extraordinary spiritual experience? Some would say yes, but only if the music, art, and movie is explicitly Christian. But this view hinders us from viewing all of life as sacred, and thus makes Jesus mistaken when He said that even the rocks will cry out in praise to God.


God loves creativity, and will express it through anyone He chooses.

At a little pottery studio in Baltimore, my youngest daughter painted a ceramic cat purple and pink. As her tongue crept out of the right side of her mouth, she focused on the joy of creating. It was then that I understood why Jesus told us to become like little children: For Annie, it was not about staying within the lines or getting recognized for her abilities. It was simply about the joy of painting.

Annie just may understand the Gospel better than I do.

You see, the Scripture says "Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom". Freedom to create, freedom to fail, and freedom to enjoy all things beautiful. It also teaches that the primary job of the Holy Spirit is not to draw attention to ourselves or even to the Holy Spirit, but to point people to Jesus-- that they would gaze upon His beauty.

In what ways do you see the Spirit's evidence around you?

The Uncontainable God

I love the music of the Indigo Girls. Amy Ray and Emily Saliers-- the multiple Grammy winning acoustic alternative-folk-rock duo from Atlanta-- are best known for their piercing harmonies, poetic lyrics and smooth guitar riffs reminiscent of Dylan but with a flavor all its own.

I was first introduced to their music in 1989, and have been hooked ever since. I've seen them in concert 3 times, each of which was mesmerizing to say the least.

Over the years some Christians have expressed disapproval of the Indigo Girls because of their lifestyles and lack of affiliation with a formal church. While I understand their concerns, I will always stick up for these girls for this reason: Their music was a major factor in my own coming to faith.

The first Indigo Girls song I heard back in 1989, contained these words:

We go to the Bible
We go through the workout
We read up on revival
We stand up for the lookout.

I thought to myself, "Hmmm. . Maybe I should check out the Bible." And so I did, for which I am glad.

Soon thereafter, I bought their album Strange Fire and heard these words:

Hey Jesus, it's me. I'm sorry.
I don't remember all I said.
I had a few-- no, too many
And they went straight to my head
And made me feel like I could argue with God.

I thought to myself, "Hmmm.. maybe I should try talking to Jesus, and apologize for being such a stubborn sinner." And so I did, for which I am glad.


In recent years I have had the privilege of meeting and conversing with Emily Saliers (the woman in the above picture) on two separate ocassions, both of which were in churches where she performed with her father, Dr. Don Saliers. Emily is friendly, soft-spoken, uninterested in being a celebrity, and oddly comfortable in church, though she has had many differences over the years with organized religion. Dr. Saliers is a Methodist minister, Seminary professor, accomplished musician, and a wonderful man who loves his daughter. A friend of mine and I shared coffee with him one morning at the Starbucks on the campus of Emory University. When I told him that Emily's music played a part in my own coming to faith, he smiled, said "that's interesting," and reminded me of a line in one of the great hymns of the church, "Everywhere man can be, thou God art present there." His point: God refuses to be contained within labels such as "sacred" or "secular", but makes himself known in ways that surprise many.

On one of the most recent Indigo Girls albums, Emily sings these words:

There is fire and there is lust
Some will trade it all for someone they could trust
There's a bag of silver for a box of nails
It's so simple, the betrayal
Though it's known to change the world and what's to come.

Yes, the Gospel is indeed known to change the world. And don't be surprised if someday you are reminded of this fact by someone you least expect-- a grungy activist rock star who doesn't spend a lot of time in church, for example.

Everywhere

Two of my favorite musicians whose music has filled my ears and inspired my heart for the better part of my life are as follows: Rich Mullins and John Denver.

I first heard the music of Rich Mullins in 1990, and began falling it love with it in 1993 when my then wife-to-be put several of his songs on a "mixed tape" for me (yes, Shelley and I are that old). I've loved his work ever since.

My first exposure to John Denver's music is harder to pin-point, as some of my earliest memories involve hearing and singing his songs around the house and in the car. In fact, my mother informed me that she listened to him while I was in her womb. I've loved his work ever since.


On September 19th, 1997, Rich Mullins was killed in a car crash. Less than a month later, on October 12th, John Denver was killed in a plane crash.

I still remember exactly where I was and what I was doing on each of those days when I heard the tragic news. I remember sitting in silence pondering the events and wondering why it had happened. Shelley remembers me weeping.

For a few days I couldn't bring myself to listen to their songs, because when I did, it hurt.

But within a week I was listening to them again, and they began to penetrate my senses more deeply as I started reflecting on how these men lived their lives and approached their craft.

John did not claim to be a Christian. Though he experienced extraordinary times of love and happiness, his two marriages turned out to be tumultous, even violent at times. On more than one occasion his depression led him to drive while intoxicated. Some would ask what benefit there could possibly be in listening to the music of such a man. However, I never once felt that his music led me away from God and into sin. To the contrary, actually.

These words of his continue to stir me:

I have to say it now: It's been a good life, all in all.
It's really fine to have the chance to hang around.
To lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire
While all my friends and my old lady sit and watch the sun go down.
Talk of poems and prayers and promises, and things that we believe in.
How sweet it is to love someone, how right it is to care;
How long it's been since yesterday, but what about tomorrow?
What about our dreams and all the memories we share?

Those are the words of a man who understands that the best moments in life are ordinary, and that relationships are vital but complicated. Like King David and the other Psalmists, he was a man who understood the power of poetry, the importance of prayer, and the joy of believing promises.


Rich was a Christian, and believed that his music was a gift from God given to him to be a venue for telling others about the Good News of Jesus. He loved and served in the Church, but he wasn't a particularly churchy type. He wasn't big on pious cliches, programs, and strategic plans. And in spite of his popularity and financial success, he chose to give away everything he owned except the necessities he needed to live in a single-wide trailer on a Native American reservation in Kansas.

These words of his continue to stir me:

Well I can still hear my dad cussin'; he's working late out in the barn.
The Spring plants and comin', and the tractors just won't run.
Mom, she's done the laundry; I can see it wavin' on the line.
Now they've stayed together through the bait and the string of those times.
Talk about your miracles, talk about your faith.
Well my dad, he could make things grow out of Indiana clay.
Mom could make a gourmet meal out of just cornbread and beans.
And they worked to give faith hands and feet and somehow gave it wings.
Now they've raised five children; one Winter they lost their son.
But the pain didn't live the crippled and the scars that made them strong.
Never picture perfect. Just a plain man and his wife
Who somehow knew the value of hard work, good love, and real life.


Those also are the words of a man who understands that the best things in life are ordinary, that spirituality is earthy, and that there is a joyous freedom in being real and honest. Like King Solomon, he understood that life is sometimes complicated and messy, and like the apostle Paul he understood that Christ's strength is made perfect in weakness.

What I love most about these fine musicians is this: They both refused to be labeled. Rich did not want to be known as a Contemporary Christian artist, and John Denver did not want to be known as a secular Country artist. Indeed, both of their respective industries were never comfortable giving them such labels because their music simply did not fit with what was typical for any of those categories, whether sacred or secular. The reason I love this is because it testifies to what is perhaps one of the least discussed truths of the Bible: Everything is sacred. There is no line of separation between what is spiritual and what is secular. In the words of the Psalmist, "The earth is the Lord's and everything in it." In the words of Donald Barnhouse, "All of life illustrates Bible doctrine." In the words of John Denver, "My heart so full of love for you sings praise for all I see". And in the words of Rich Mullins, "There is such a thing as glory, and there are hints of it everywhere."

I am not a pantheist or a universalist. I confess with the writers of the ancient creeds my belief in one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one Holy Church, but oh may God deliver us from trying to confine his glory to sacred churchy things.

Leonard Bernstein once said "When I listen to Beethoven's 5th, I can't help but believe that there is something in the universe that won't let me down."

When I listen to Rich Mullins and John Denver, I can't help but believe that there is such a thing as glory, and that there are hints of it everywhere.

Everywhere.

Tap the Rockies

There is a place where the air is clean, the sun is hardly ever veiled, and the exquisite snow-capped mountains seem to have been freshly chiseled just yesterday. A land where healthy eating and active living are not only possible to attain, but difficult to avoid. A culture where acceptance is the norm, and beauty is the pervasive theme.

Colorado.

If you've never been there you'll think I'm overstating its reality, possibly bordering on being a mystical tree-hugger. If you have been there you'll think I'm understating its reality, possibly bordering on being a mediocre describer of a place that comes close to Tolkien's Rivendell.

I was born there, but we moved before I was a month old.

I spent a Summer there during college. More than 15 years ago. I traveled many roads, hiked many trails, and shook many hands. I never dreamed I would backpack to a Peak more than
14, 000 feet above my hometown of Virginia Beach-- 14, 110 feet to be exact, and yet my feet were still on the ground. It was mid-July, but the snow came steadily down.

I spent a good bit of time there in recent years as well. In Boulder. Where my sister Jessa lives. The streets there are smooth and clean. The people are laid back, lean, and artistic. It's a wonderful place to be.

My wife, daughters and I are returning to Boulder in August. We'll wake each day to the view of the Flat Irons, the warmth of the sun, the sound of mountain bikes passing by, and the taste of Whole Foods dark roast coffee. Carly and I will hold hands and take walks in the morning. Annie and I will share hummus in the early afternoon, and Shelley and I will sip wine and kiss in the evening.

I will officiate my sister's wedding while we are there. I'll pronounce this girl-- who to me is still in many ways the same baby sister my mother brought home from the hospital when I was eight-- and Chad, her wonderful lover, husband and wife. I will also sing to her, at her request, the way I did when she was a toddler. A song about love.

John Denver once sang about an east coast man who "would rather be in Colorado, singing of love in Boulder Canyon". I'm content where I currently live, but in August of 2009 there is no other place on earth I would possibly rather be than in Colorado, singing of love in Boulder Canyon.

He Shines in All That's Fair, So Lighten Up

Christians have had a long and conflicted relationship with culture. And there has always been a segment of Christians who believe that involvement in the culture is a dangerous business, for it dances close to the line of embracing things that might be displeasing to God. Hear me out: our world is flawed, and there are some dangerous elements to the culture, but is withdrawing from the culture and forming a separate sub-culture really the answer? On the other hand, is targeting the culture and trying to "save" it something the Bible advocates? If you answered yes to either one of these questions I want to pose something for you to consider: It is interesting that those who object to Santa Claus are often the very ones who live by his creed: you better watch out. . . you better be good. . . It's also interesting that those who speak against being "of the world" often base their lifestyle convictions not on Scripture but on the culture itself: dress up to go to church. . . sing mostly traditional hymns without drums. . . believe that the earth is very young. . . don't support public schools (Yes, those are merely preferences of a specific segment of the culture. They are not biblical commands. The same could be said of drinking in moderation, reading novels that may have an occasional explitive, and watching movies that don't involve Bible characters, people being left behind, and cartoon vegetables who botch the point of the story of Jonah).

Lest you think I am attacking those convictions or the people who hold them, let me clearly state: there is nothing wrong with holding and practicing such convictions. In fact, everyone is free to do so, as long as they are acknowledged as personal preferences and not biblical requirements.

My point is this: When we expect others to live by our preferences, and act as if they will be more godly if they do, we have crossed the line into absurdity by attempting to take the place of God.

C.S. Lewis put it this way:

"One of the marks of a certain type of bad man is that he cannot give up a thing himself without wanting everyone else to give it up. That is not the Christian way. An individual Christian may see fit to give up all sorts of things for special reasons-- marriage, or meat, or beer, or the cinema; but the moment he starts saying the things are bad in themselves, or looking down his nose at other people who do use them, he has taken the wrong turning."

Christians throughout the ages have believed that God makes himself known in two ways: Generally (through nature and all that exists, which reveals to us the beautiful artwork of God according to Psalm 19:1-6) and Specifically (through the Bible, which reveals to us the truth of God's redeeming love in Jesus Christ according to Psalm 19:7-14). Here's what intrigues me: We go to great lengths to argue that the entire Bible, God's specific revelation, is "inerrant" (which I strongly believe with every fiber of my being). I'm curious though, have you ever heard anyone argue that God's general revelation is inerrant? The fact is, if God chose to reveal himself this way it HAS TO BE inerrant. It is, however, harder to interpret, and therein lies the tragedy: Because the light of nature (which includes many aspects of the culture itself) is often harder to understand and interpret than the Bible, we would rather not take the time to try and interpret it. In other words, we don't want to think, so we simply erect barriers that forbid entrance into anything that seems popular in modern culture, for fear that those things might contain sinful elements. We would rather discourage people from watching Friends and Seinfeld because they are "worldy" shows that sometimes deal with immoral subjects, rather than celebrate and learn from the amazing sense of community those shows portray-- a type of community which Christians long to have but seldom find in the very place where it is supposed to be found: the church. We would rather discourage people from going trick-or-treating on Halloween rather than remove our own religious costumes that conceal our sin to others the other 364 days of the year.

Why do we spend so much time being uptight and offended at trivial matters such as what kind of music is godly, how many winter coats a person should have (something I recently heard someone debating), and whether or not Christians should read Harry Potter? The old hymn states, "This is my Father's World, He shines in all that's fair. In the rustling grass I hear Him pass, He speaks to me everywhere".

He's shining on you, my friend, so lighten up.