Honesty in Church?

young man wearing a mask of himself

“You know, I find that one of the hardest places to be honest, as an artist, is in the church.”

Whoa! Say what? The statement took me aback a bit.

Then another voice chimed in, “Oh, I totally agree. There are a lot of audiences much more accepting of honesty in our culture. The church is one of the hardest places to speak the truth.”

Wham again! I mean of all places for honesty and truth, shouldn’t the church be at the top of the list?

The conversation was at an intimate gathering of Christian artists in a retreat setting—oddly enough, in a church. Most of the people in attendance were professional performers with a focus on ministry. For most, their audience was the church.

Among the attributes of an artist, speaking the truth is at the top of the list. And yet…

“Oh, you can be honest about some things—the ‘approved topics’ that the tribe accepts. Of course, you can talk about ‘Gospel’ truth. You can even talk about certain failings, certain areas of brokenness; the ‘acceptable sins.’ But there are lots of areas that you can’t touch.”

As the conversation continued I began to understand. There was much brokenness and hurt gathered in this room; divorce, betrayal, addictions, and other issues that are not easily dismissed. Stuff that real people deal with on a daily basis.

And they were saying that both personally and as artists they found it difficult and even impossible to speak about these things in the one place where issues of brokenness should be welcome.

I recalled a conversation with a friend who is a well-known Christian recording artist. He had echoed some of the same sentiment. His passion was to write songs about brokenness but was hitting a wall of resistance. He was told the songs he wanted to write would not be “marketable” to the church audience he was playing to. Only positive and uplifting music was desired and would be commercially acceptable.

In recent years I have been sharing personal stories from my life in my performances. One of the things I have found encouraging is that people are overwhelmingly affirming about the “honesty” and “transparency” I share in my stories… but to be even more honest and transparent, I filtered those stories to stay away from the taboo topics, that I knew deep down inside I couldn’t share. I knew my audiences wouldn’t accept those stories in the context of a church setting. I have to admit it would be very easy to be “more honest” about some of the issues if I were not playing to the church.

I am in a lot of churches… virtually a different one or two every weekend. A lot of churches advertise “come as you are” and try really hard to project an image of being a place where the broken are welcome. But are they being honest?

I don’t have an answer.

I do know that, for the most part, the group of artists gathered in this room are exceptionally qualified to speak honesty and truth, but are not feeling the freedom to do that for the audience they feel called to serve.

Thoughts?

What a Pastor would Like Artists to Know

Guest Blog from a Pastor (name withheld)

(In my previous blog I shared 3 Things that Artists Want Pastors to Know. I offered for a pastor to write a counterpoint to the article and got a taker. These are great insights for artists to heed as we work together in ministry!)

Pastor praying for congregation

Please allow me to offer some balance to the discussion.

Performers might not realize that in some cases the congregation is not really interested in having anyone come to sing or act during the time that is normally used for congregational worship and preaching.
From my experience it seems that more and more the preacher has to sell the church on the idea of a live performance . . . (I have personally had great experiences with performance ministry. I have taken part in it and have supported it through the years, so I know how good it can be) . . . so when things don’t go well, it turns out to be a bad reflection on me, the preacher, who made the decision to have the performer come.

Just for information sake areas of criticism include:

1. The performer was late and has kept people waiting and even caused the service to be delayed.

2. The quality of the performance or ability to connect well with the audience/people during the performance and/or after the service is lacking.

3. The information given at the end that’s used to raise money for the sponsoring ministry appears to be more important to the performer than the spiritual message of the performance itself.

4. The performer exercises too much poetic license and even distorts scripture during the performance.

Even if/when these sort of things happen, the performer leaves with money both contractually promised and graciously given while the preacher is the one who receives the criticism and must endure comments like, “I hope we never do that again.”

Those of us who make the decision to have performers come to our churches are putting a lot on the line and are placing a very important part of our own ministry/reputation in the hands of someone who may or may not do the job as well as advertised or anticipated.

As I see it, Performance Ministry is heavily dependent (now and certainly even more so in the future) on the relationship the performers have with church ministers. I think it good advice for the performers to consider the minister’s position in all of this and to understand that we have a lot riding on what you do when you visit our congregations both in regards to members and those who might happen to visit that day.

Make sure that what you bring is equal or better than what we are risking by having you bring it.

The Dark Side of Art

Dark_side_ChuckLast week I did something I thought I would never do.

I went to a heavy metal concert.

Not just any heavy metal concert, but a sub-genre known as “doom metal.”

Yes, that “Christian actor guy”—that same guy that does a show featuring the famous catch-phrase “What would Jesus do?”—found himself in a dark room with people wearing dark clothes listening to some very dark music… and doing this around midnight… way past my bedtime.

Why, you may ask?

Well, a couple of reasons. One, it bothers me when people condemn art without first experiencing it, be it music, film, theater or visual art. Christians, myself included, are too often guilty of this. I would probably be one of the first to condemn this form of art at first glance. I am trying to change on that score. Two, I have relationships with people who are into this scene. The relationships matter to me, so I felt I needed to get better acquainted with this world for the sake of those relationships. If after experiencing this music I chose to condemn it, at least it would be an informed decision. On this night I promised I would do my best to arrive with an open mind.

A put on dark clothes, and wore a hat to try to hide the gray hair. I wanted to blend in, although I knew that would be almost impossible. I was too old and too devoid of tattoos to be anonymous. Even if I managed to pull off getting past the first glance, my neon orange earplugs would certainly give me away.

I paid my $10 cover charge and crept in as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. One of the first surprises of the evening was that even though I was out of my element, the people I was introduced to were remarkably kind and even personable. Even though the volume in the place was extreme, they made an attempt to converse and I quickly felt accepted.

This genre of music contains names of bands that evoke the worst imagery for the average Christian. The most famous in this genre is Black Sabbath but it also includes bands like The Skull, Pentagram, Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride. Not names you are likely to find on a lineup with Third Day or The Newsboys.

One of the stereotypes that was quickly dispelled, was that this music is satanic. Now, I know I am a novice, and there may indeed be expressions of this music that could be considered satanic, but on this night that was not the case. And I was relieved!

One of the other stereotypes that I had to discard was that this was just “noise.” I fully expected to dismiss the “so-called music” as anything but music. I was prepared to have my assumptions confirmed. “Just a bunch of kids making a horrible racket” was my preconceived notion. To my surprise, the music was artistic and well rehearsed. It was definitely a “show” and as an actor I could appreciate some of the theatrics in the performance. A single song can last up to 45 minutes and I found the music comparable to a symphonic piece with different movements taking us on a journey. The singing… well there really was no singing… but there was certainly vocal noise. Screaming indecipherable words—that was the “singing”—is what is common in most doom metal songs. This I did not like.

According to Wikipedia —

“Doom metal is an extreme form of heavy metal music that typically uses slower tempos, low-tuned guitars and a much ‘thicker’ or ‘heavier’ sound than other metal genres. Both the music and the lyrics intend to evoke a sense of despair, dread, and impending doom.”

I have to say that is a very accurate description. The fascinating thing is that this draws an audience. The last thing I would want to do is pay for entertainment that would evoke in me a “sense of despair, dread and impending doom.” But that is what was happening. The audience moved as one, nodding their heads, as if in a trance, to the slow dark droning beat, many with their hands raised. I reminded me of a sort of dark worship service, but instead of worship it was as if they were all commiserating their grief together. There was almost of feeling of being tortured and I found it quite disturbing.

I have had the opportunity to talk with some of the artists that make this sort of music and for many of them the music is an expression of some grief or anger they are working through. As an artist I can understand and appreciate this. It is a very appropriate use of art to express what the artist is going through. This was art—no question. The dark side of art to be sure, but definitely art.

My test for the kind of art that I want to experience is that it needs to have something redeeming in it. Often Christians, myself included, make hasty judgments when it comes to art. We won’t go see a movie that has too much bad language, sex and violence. I understand. Yet I am more willing to tolerate the bad stuff if I know that there is something redeeming in it. The good wins, there is light at the end of the tunnel. There is hope in the end.

I left the venue feeling sad. Sad that there was so much pain and suffering in the hearts of those I observed. Sad that they felt a need to celebrate it. I had just experienced a metaphor brought to life—misery loves company. It was the only redeeming thing I found in the art. I left feeling the hopelessness that the artists skillfully expressed.

I’m glad I went. I have a better understanding of the art form and more importantly the people that are drawn to it. I think it will improve my relationship with those in my life that are drawn to this.

I can’t wait to never go again!

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