Archive for August 2006

Author: Edith Schaeffer

(Edited and compiled by Louis Gifford Parkhurst, Jr.)

Publication details: Crossway Books, Illinois, 1987.
 

The outstanding thing about Edith Schaeffer is her earthiness. Her books always suggest an eye on the beautiful things on earth, but these are not uncommon things. They are things which have as a thread running through them the ordinariness that describes most of human life, such as commonplace scenes and everyday events.  But for her, they are the stuff of much writing and reflection, simply because she sees in them what she has herself called “hidden art”. Her premise is that the stuff of Art is found in the simplicity and ordinariness of life. The blend of functional, mundane, ordinary, on one hand, and sublime or beautiful, on the other, preoccupies her, so that these routine events are furnished and infused with a general and pervading sense of artistry and liveliness that bears witness to God’s great skill as Cosmic Artist.
 

The Art of Life is a compilation of Edith Schaeffer’s writings, culled out and selected by Louis Gifford Parkhurst, Jr., and reintroduced as a devotional aid. It is composed of extracts from Schaeffer, followed by a Scripture reading and a brief prayer after every selection, and its reflective intentions are very much drawn along by the exquisite drawings of rustic scenes by artist Floyd Hosmer. Quite the sort of book to take with you on retreat somewhere.
 

What I have enjoyed most about reading Edith Schaeffer is represented in this small edition: The Art of Life is the attar of Edith Schaeffer, a small but potent concentration of the essence of all her writings. Her theme is evident from the title: Life is Art. The dimensions of Art for her are varied, and good Art occurs at different levels. It is found in the jagged scissoring of a three-year-old’s first attempt at cut-out pictures; it is seen in the stylistically refined pieces of a Picasso, but more commandingly, it is demonstrated through the reality of God’s art gallery, Nature itself. Schaeffer’s focus is two-pronged: “God is Artist; Man is Art” forms the first part of the equation. The second follows from this: “because God is Creator and Man is imago Dei, Man must likewise create.” He cannot deny this essential of his own nature; even where his creativity is warped, Man is destined (or doomed, depending on your preference) to create.
 

Humans are created to create, in other words, and the raw materials are best used for the cultivation of the psyche, or the human soul and individuality; in the nourishing and flourishing of relationships and family richness and depth; in human thought and culture and expression. Simply, the fact of being human and being alive so excites Schaeffer that her conviction is that a Christian, of all people, must be an artist, should live “artistically, aesthetically, and creatively,” and be “sensitive to beauty, responsive to what has been created for our appreciation.”
 

Stemming from this view of Life as Art and Man as Artist is a developing branch of much thought and writing, namely her conjoining interest in and concern for the family, something too often overlooked these days as important to the formation of the individual. In family structures and the cultivation of relationships, she sees great potential for much artistry to be at play. Like Virginia Woolf, Edith Schaeffer regards human interaction and relationships to be the canvas to work out transcendent and eternal moments (Art) in life, moments where something of the purity and loveliness of God’s intention for humanity manages to shine through. As a unit, the family is the “formation center for knowing how to love, how to express love, and what love is all about.” Art in the making takes place as children learn responsibility, as parents learn accountability, as all participate in the “deep understanding that people are significant, important, worthwhile …”
 

Looking at family in this way (a work of art) is looking at life with the same hopeful lens. But life is not only a work of art. Participants come to appreciate that skill and experience are needed to live well, so that there is, too, an art to living. Hidden artistry must be discovered in the journey called life, as we manage our way through easy and difficult terrain, encounter congenial and temperamental people, jump over small hurdles and big. To refuse the challenge is to refuse the artistic impulse, to deny the creative potential, and in effect, the God-directed impulse of the soul. To say “yes” to what is essentially human in this exercise is of course to necessarily bend the will to boundaries, discipline, rules … Schaeffer’s thoughts are all undergirded and bound within the confines of an evangelical and thoroughgoing regard for Scriptural limits and frameworks.
 

Her perspective therefore balances the interplay between freedom and restraint (or boundaries), spontaneity and discipline, in the learning process of becoming an artist of life that all humans must engage in. That is what I like most about her. The commonsense she exudes, the groundedness of her down-to-earth nature always pins her readers down at points where we acknowledge that each of us is finally responsible and accountable for the ways in which we learn (or do not learn) to be true artists after God’s heart. And if that were not all, Edith Schaeffer makes the commonplace seem so worthwhile, the ordinary so pleasurable, that on reading her, one must sigh with some relief that life could be simple, after all.
 

This review was first published in a Kairos monograph, Understanding the Modern World Through Christian Eyes: Building Strong Families, June 2003, pp. 25-26.

Author: Marva J. Dawn

Publication details: Eerdmans, Michigan, 1997            

“We are not in charge anymore.”

Marva Dawn’s concerns in Is It A Lost Cause? are the concerns of every parent, teacher and pastor. In an age that is increasingly pluralistic and secularized, the Church’s children face every manner of obstacle to their spiritual development and growth as Christian persons. How can the Church help its children to resist the seduction and ethos of the dominant culture around them that will harm their spiritual development? Is it possible to instill genuine, faith-forming behaviour and attitudes in children who live in a culture where success is measured almost solely in terms of sexual attractiveness, money and power? While it is the North American culture and society that is the immediate context Marva Dawn addresses, we in Asia and the rest of the world should not imagine that we are shut off from the problems our Western contemporaries face. The availability of information via the mass media and the growing global culture place us and our children in the line of fire too.

Forming genuinely Christian children is as much a problem and a privilege for us as for anyone else. Marva Dawn’s book is a timely and instructive reminder that deliberately forming faith-full young disciples today to carry the mantle courageously for the next generation of Christians and churches is a greatly necessary task: “… we can and must root children in the Christian worldview, its morals and values …” This is not a lost cause, and it deserves the space it takes in our thoughts and debates and deliberations.

The given scenario for Marva Dawn is one of postmodern and post-Christian American society. Essentially, what it means is that children today grow up without the Christian (or Christianized) backdrop, tradition, and history that their parents grew up in. Children grow up ignorant of the basic tenets of the Christian faith; in fact, it may not even be their faith, or their family’s faith. Interestingly, this draws the North American scenario very close to the rest of the world today. Pluralistic, post- and non-Christian worldviews vie for attention in the young and old. Christianity very often emerges as just one of the minor voices that are heard.

How does the Church fare in raising children with vigorous Christian faith and moral character? Marva Dawn articulates what many of us know and fear: “At every church I visit most members think the congregation is doing fine—but then I talk with the youth or children and discover how little they know about the faith, how negligibly it affects their daily lives.” Is It A Lost Cause? brings home several points very sharply indeed. Until we ourselves as the adult generation in the Church see, and are sorry, that we have forgotten God’s heart revealed in the Scriptures, we will do little to instill in our children an understanding of the biblical meta-narrative which frames their lives and provides a meta-story for understanding themselves, their work, and their place in society. The fact of the matter is, truth be told, it is not only our children who lack a biblical meta-narrative that gives them genuine meaning …

Unless we also see God’s heart revealed in the Church and in worship, we will not teach our children the holy worth of these things, either. When the life of the Church is compromised by its not being formed biblically, when worship is reduced to entertainment than holy engagement, we will not see in the lives of our children a reflection of the core spiritual disciplines that make men wise and good. Is It A Lost Cause? challenges us to wake up to the ways in which the dominant culture and zeitgeist, or spirit of the times, is not only luring our children, but us as well in its promises of the good life. 

The resolution of the problem of what to do with children and youth does not lie in them. It lies in us, and in the way we choose to deliberately form and cultivate a biblical atmosphere in our church life. In the traditions, structures, and activities we promote, we need to be more biblically informed and infused; in Marva Dawn’s expression, the Church needs to see itself as a parallel and alternative society to that presented by the dominant culture and world. Our congregations can be “models of renouncing the shallow, distracting frivolities of the world around us for the sake of truthful reflection and spiritual study.” Conscious cultivation of disciplines and acts requires time, effort, and most of all, a heart that mirrors God’s pastoral heart for his Church and the Church’s children.

To pastor a Church so that it can take its rightful place as a holy alternative society, a pastor needs to be a pastor: “My call … is for pastors to stop being CEOs or marketers and to recover again … pastoral hearts …. caring for souls wholistically …. instead of raising the numbers or simply providing programs.” Similarly, parents are called to be loving, responsible, brave parents in what is frankly a terrible and challenging time to raise children, because children really need parents: “Do parents realize that one of their primary callings in life is to invest time in the training of their children for life?” In other words, biblically-centred parenting, mentoring, and leadership are the essential ingredients in developing faith-full Christian children with moral character.

What will happen if we do not teach our children to resist? What will happen if we refuse to be the kind of holy, loving examples that our children will want to follow? What will happen if the Church does not provide a creative, holy, strong sanctum, an alternative, for children to feel safe in? Marva Dawn examines the wider culture of our times: materialistic consumerism, the idolatry of ease or happiness, life as play and entertainment, life as promiscuity, life as violence … Happily, she also provides “antidotes” for these ills. The Church’s formation of children must thus involve key and fundamental biblical understandings of such concepts, engagements and activities as work and play, prayer and meditation, peacemaking and intimacy.

These are the basic practices and habits of the Church through the centuries, and they make possible the spiritual formation of the Church’s children. Marva Dawn writes incisively, passionately, prophetically and insightfully about the necessary recovery of such practices in the Church today. In the final analysis, Is It A Lost Cause? is a simple and heartfelt book that tells us what the Scriptures have always said. Our tragedy is that like God’s people of old, we should need these basics of holy living to be told to us again … and again … and again …

 

 

Author: Henri J.M. Nouwen

Publication details: Image Book, New York, 1990

“In our own woundedness, we can become a source of life for others.”
 

“What does it mean to be a minister in our contemporary society?” is the question that is asked in the book. The Wounded Healer was first published in 1970, and Henri Nouwen answered that question for his generation insightfully through keen cultural and theological observations. Decades on, how does this much-fêted book fare in the “contemporary society” of today? The thing about classics is that they never really go out of style; something of the incisive nature of what is said reverberates. The Wounded Healer is such a book; what Nouwen said then, in the context of the West (America) in the ‘60s and ‘70s still resonates today. The truth is, we still suffer from the same human compulsions and continue to ask the same question: “What does it mean to be a minister in our contemporary society?” Perhaps today, we ask it with more than just an edge of desperation.

Nouwen examines his culture in terms of the alienated man, the one for whom historical discontinuity rather than continuity applies: “He finds himself part of a nonhistory in which only the sharp moment of the here and now is valuable.” The alienated man is dislocated from his culture and tradition. He has no sense of the security of the past, and no certainty of a future that will answer his dreams. He has no dreams that are pleasant to speak of, because of the atrocities he sees in the world, and therefore, has no ambition to leave any kind of legacy behind. This, Nouwen says, is the nuclear man, isolated intellectually, emotionally and socially: “he feels as if the many boundaries that give structure to life are becoming increasingly vague.” His consciousness of the world is one where fragments dominate; his art, if any, is best expressed as a collage of small fragments, “divergent pieces … short impression[s].”

Such people are broken and profoundly disconnected. Nouwen pinpoints the youth as examples of such psychological and spiritual disconnection. Growing up in an unsafe world means that the young (so-called leaders and makers of tomorrow) cannot see the continuity of history and tradition that their parents insist on. They cannot see, in the face of so much global suffering and tragedy, the mist-filled and glorious future of which their pioneering forefathers and foremothers dreamed. Instead, they are characterized by what Nouwen calls “inwardness, fatherlessness and convulsiveness.” Fearfulness and anxiety, marks of alienation, push such individuals into a subjective inwardness and withdrawal from a meaningless and horrible outside; no external authority or reality can relieve them of the terrible anxiety and loneliness they feel; the fundamental unhappiness of these individuals make them react convulsively to reject society, tradition and history. They are, like the spiritual adolescent, Mr. Harrison, in Nouwen’s third chapter, afraid to die and afraid to live. Given such a missions field, peopled by those who no longer understand the linguistic and symbolic categories of received tradition and history, what does it mean for us to minister to the perpetual adolescents of our contemporary society? Where do we begin to find common ground, common gestures and common words to share with those who are trapped in their human sufferings?

Nouwen’s proposal is simple and profound, as all good words are. In ministering to a rootless society, the minister is to be the wounded healer. He is to identify and articulate the suffering in his own heart, to “put his own hope and despair … at the disposal of others who want to find a way through their confusion and touch the solid core of life.” Suffering is the human condition. Articulation as a form of leadership thus means showing the way that we ourselves have taken through the darkness and pain (confusion) and then out into the hope and light (clarification). Vulnerability and openness are the starting points of meaningful service. Such creative theology and counseling can only take place in the context of compassion rather than professionalism and competence in ministers. It is through compassion that a fatherless and suspicious generation will accept the fatherly authority of the minister who leads. Infused into this is the spirit of prayer: only a minister of prayer and contemplation can properly test “all he sees, hears and touches … change the course of history and lead his people away from their panic-stricken convulsions to the creative action that will make a better world.”

This fundamental woundedness in all of us gives us hope to minister in creative and non-threatening ways to those who presently suffer, who do not fit in, who are convulsive. It is the wounded minister who will make the difference. His own suffering and loneliness can be the major source of his healing power. The minister who heals is one who is “constantly willing to see [his] own pain and suffering as rising from the depth of the human condition which all men share.” Out of that understanding of himself in his own depths, such a minister is able to show hospitality of soul to unexpected visitors who come to share their anxieties and fears. The “ability to pay attention to the guest,” or hospitality, is possible only when the minister has discovered how to be at home in his own home of human weakness and experience, and is now able to give “friendly space” to the guest to find his own soul.

This model of ministry is not new: Jesus embodied it in the way he went about first-century Palestine, offering hope to the helpless and powerless. Without property, without money, without the sanction of a society that could have made him famous, he walked about dusty streets proclaiming the good news: “If you are wounded, you are very blessed indeed!” Similarly, we are called to bear the image and wounds of Christ, the original Wounded Healer, if we wish to minister healing to our contemporary society.