I will never forget that night. God spoke to me with almost audible clarity and I ignored Him; to my eternal shame, I deliberately disobeyed Him.
My family was on vacation in Florida. Were almost to the condo we were borrowing from some friends and we stopped for dinner. It was just a little Chinese buffet, nothing special but we were all starved after traveling in the van all day. My parents ordered the food while my sister and I got some tables pulled together and sat the younger ones down. After acquiring a stack of napkins and straws I decided I should wash my hands before getting everyone’s drinks. The place was one of those where the bathrooms are right next to the kitchen and as I came out from washing my hands I glanced into the kitchen, what I saw made me sick.
The workers having already taken my family the food were standing around talking, one girl had her back to me and I don’t know if she waited at a “gentlemen’s club” or what caused them but I could see grooves in her back. Pressed into her back a quart inch wide and a quarter inch deep they came out of the front of her shirt, over the top of her should and down her back disappearing once more inside her shirt. The halter top made them hard to see from the front but painfully obvious from behind her.
I couldn’t move, none of them noticed I was there, and I could help but stare as a little whisper with the strength of the ocean behind it spoke inside me. “Go talk to her.” I heard Him say.
My entire being revolted at the idea. “No!” was my immediate response, “Why? What would I say?” I internally flinched at the awkwardness I would feel.
“Tell her she’s worth more than that.” He answered simply.
I stood there and, like Jacob, wrestled with God. “No.” the thoughts tore through my mind, “What would she say? What would her friends think? What would my family think?” I turned and walked away. I went and eat my meal in misery.
God wasn’t giving up. The girl stood behind the checkout counter, right where I could see her, for the entire meal. Then we sat in the parking lot for at least a half an hour waiting on my parents to get down shopping for groceries at the Publix next door while she and her friends stood around their cars talking after they closed the store for the night. The entire time God was wrestling with my heart, and I wrestled back. That wrestling match of me verses God ended that night after I went to bed, and it ended for the last time.
That night was a turning point in my life, but I didn’t know it at first. I thought everything was going to be fine, I’d repent later and everything would go back to normal but it didn’t. God pulled back and over the next few months I almost never felt His presence, not even at church. He was sending me a message and slowly I understood it, “You promised me your life, you promised to do My Will, but apparently you’ve changed your mind. So you want to do your own thing now? You think you know what’s best? Fine go head then, I won’t get in your way again. When you decide you want to stop playing games and do this from real I’ll be here.”
After that it was no longer God vs. Me, He left me to myself, it was Me vs. Me: the Old Me against the New Me. I had a choice to make: was I going to choose to follow Him, or was I going to choose to live for myself? I had to decide which things I really wanted, a girlfriend, a car, a life of fun in sin, or what He promised, the incomparable sweetness of communion with Him, the provision of all my needs in due time, lasting and meaningful pleasure. I couldn’t have both it ways, I had to choose one or the other, and I spent two years sitting on the fence unable to decide.
I was still a dutiful son to my parents, followed their rules and worked in the family business, I still went to church and worked as an AWANA leader, but I was cussing when around people who didn’t care, I used pornography, I went to good Christian school that forbade drinking and smoking, and I directly violated the contract I signed saying I wouldn’t partake in their use. I didn’t really run off whole-heartedly into sin but neither did I really seek God, and as living a lie always does, it really started to hurt.
The application is, I hope, obvious: we are all faced with this choice. As college students finally out from underneath our parents’ protective umbrella most of us are faced with this choice more pointedly than ever before. I’m not saying smoking cigars or drinking alcohol are inherently sinful activities and I’m certainly not saying girlfriends or cars are bad either, I don’t know what it is in your life that is an idol for you, what issues you struggle with; I simply present my story as an encouragement.
I can tell you first hand that the things of the world become empty and contemptible very quickly, and that nothing can compare to the amazing richness of a life lived in actively pursuing God. Choose Him and you will never regret it.
"And if it seem evil unto you to serve the LORD, choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD." Joshua 24:15 (KJV)
~ Andrew J. Goggans
"He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but
to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?" Micah 6:8
- add Go Play With Fire!
Friday, November 9, 2007
My Dad: A Renessiance Man
I remember what it was I was going to post about: my Dad. A thrity min nap, a shower, and a meal will do amazing things for a tired body and soul!
While I was in the shower I was thinking about Star Wars (no big suprise there since I just picked up the New Jedi Order series again) and it reminded me of when I was explaining what I had been reading in the books and how they were challenging my thinking to my father, which made me remember that on the same day I was talking to him about the book Frankenstein and the life of its author. That got us into a discusion of the histroy of the era and the philosophical ideals that shaped it and still influence our culture to day. So in the middle of talking about the literary devices used in Frankinstein and the influences on Shelly as she wrote it, (her own life experiences, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther and Milton's Paradise Lost) my dad was struck by the Irony of the situation.
There we were having this discussion, while on a construction site fighting with a stuborn piece of vacuum pipe, and he just stopped what he was doing and said, "Y'know, not to brag, but I don't think very many other construction workers talk about philosophy and literary classics while on the job, do you?"
Thinking back on some of the many crazy, pointless, and down right disgusting conversations I've heard over the years I simply answered, "No, not so much."
I am not in any way trying to demean construction workers at all, most are hard working honest men, and there are many very inteligent poeple who work construction. But I have to say that there is something unusual about us, or more importantly about my father because I learned the habit from him.
My dad is a giant sponge, always seeking new ways to learn new things. Like many people of his generation my father never went to college but went straight to work after high school and started raising a family but he has (in my oppinion) more than made up for never attending a formal school by his constant desire to learn. Always seeking out good books or articles to read, and taking every opportunity to watch TV shows such as Nova, Natue, and history documentaries, my dad is a true renessiance man who has vast stores of knowledge about science (he built his own laser in high school), forestry and wildlife management, and computers, car mechanics, and (of course after working construction his whole life) home building. He can descuss religion, theology, and philosophy as well as almost any of my proffessors here at Bryan and knows the Bible better than some pastors I've met.
Why? Because of his love of learning. Because of his desire to know his Creator better by learning about every aspect of Creation. With a humble heart he will gladly let his children teach him about the things they have learned in college, soak it all up, roll it over in his mind, compare it to scripture, and find useful applications to his daily walk with God.
Teaching by example he has inspired all his children with that same spirit of life long learning ensuring that we never become stagnant but always continue to grow both mentally and spiritual.
That is the greatest gift he has ever given me, and that is why he is my hero.
While I was in the shower I was thinking about Star Wars (no big suprise there since I just picked up the New Jedi Order series again) and it reminded me of when I was explaining what I had been reading in the books and how they were challenging my thinking to my father, which made me remember that on the same day I was talking to him about the book Frankenstein and the life of its author. That got us into a discusion of the histroy of the era and the philosophical ideals that shaped it and still influence our culture to day. So in the middle of talking about the literary devices used in Frankinstein and the influences on Shelly as she wrote it, (her own life experiences, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther and Milton's Paradise Lost) my dad was struck by the Irony of the situation.
There we were having this discussion, while on a construction site fighting with a stuborn piece of vacuum pipe, and he just stopped what he was doing and said, "Y'know, not to brag, but I don't think very many other construction workers talk about philosophy and literary classics while on the job, do you?"
Thinking back on some of the many crazy, pointless, and down right disgusting conversations I've heard over the years I simply answered, "No, not so much."
I am not in any way trying to demean construction workers at all, most are hard working honest men, and there are many very inteligent poeple who work construction. But I have to say that there is something unusual about us, or more importantly about my father because I learned the habit from him.
My dad is a giant sponge, always seeking new ways to learn new things. Like many people of his generation my father never went to college but went straight to work after high school and started raising a family but he has (in my oppinion) more than made up for never attending a formal school by his constant desire to learn. Always seeking out good books or articles to read, and taking every opportunity to watch TV shows such as Nova, Natue, and history documentaries, my dad is a true renessiance man who has vast stores of knowledge about science (he built his own laser in high school), forestry and wildlife management, and computers, car mechanics, and (of course after working construction his whole life) home building. He can descuss religion, theology, and philosophy as well as almost any of my proffessors here at Bryan and knows the Bible better than some pastors I've met.
Why? Because of his love of learning. Because of his desire to know his Creator better by learning about every aspect of Creation. With a humble heart he will gladly let his children teach him about the things they have learned in college, soak it all up, roll it over in his mind, compare it to scripture, and find useful applications to his daily walk with God.
Teaching by example he has inspired all his children with that same spirit of life long learning ensuring that we never become stagnant but always continue to grow both mentally and spiritual.
That is the greatest gift he has ever given me, and that is why he is my hero.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
I decided to post one of my short stories. It just kinda came to me out of nowhere one night on family vacation a few years ago; springing from the pre-existing storyline this entirely new episode poured out of my finger tips creating a new character and situations during what was pretty much just a free-writing exercise. I was enormously happy with the result of that fit of scribbling and after typing it up I have slowly edited it sporadically over the three years since to help with flow, feel, and cohesion to the over arcing storyline.
It may not make a lot of sense to most of you because it's really more of an episode in a series than a stand alone short story. I have a several other episodes in this same story line that I am currently working on but, unlike this one, they aren't really finished yet and do to some not so great reactions and misunderstandings that arose the last time I show people incomplete works that won't be happening again. I will probably post things in the future that will receive further editing but unless the entire episode/story is written out, nobody gets to see it.
Suicide
A Short Story
By
Andrew J. Goggans
It wasn’t cold rain, even if it was he wouldn’t have cared, he liked the rain. It was an old building on the edge of town. It had once been a school or something. He stepped in out of the rain. Florescent light glinted off his sunglasses as he walked to the elevator.
Ding. The doors slid open and he stepped out. As he stepped out of the anteroom and into the hallway he could sense the guards stepping around the corner to follow him, but he was gone.
The rain dripped from his long hair onto the upturned collar of his trench coat as he stood behind a pillar on the balcony. There were fifteen men with every type of gun imaginable placed around the room, one was pointing an Uzi in the general direction of a girl who was obviously scared witless. The two guards stumbled into the room panic stricken. “Where did he go?” one shouted. The others all cursed and scanned the room.
“You’ll never find me that way. Let her go and I’m all yours Jacob.” he said leaning with his back to the pillar, arms crossed, his head bowed. The words bounced around the old auditorium.
“Jand don’t! They’ll kill you! It’s not worth it! Just Go!” the young woman screamed.
“Tiff, do me a favor and make this easier for me; just shut up and run.” he said almost too quiet to be heard but the whisper echoed around the room hauntingly.
“Just do as he says.” Jacob said coldly as a guard shoved her out a side door.
“And please run like hell till you’re far, far from here.” Jand whispered after her. Spinning around the pillar and placing a hand on the rail he leapt from the balcony and landed in the center aisle in a crouch, cracking the cement floor under his feet. One hand was on the floor, his head raised to stare at the terrified men in front of him. Every gun in the place was trained on him. Standing he reached up and slid his fingers back through his hair, then spread his arms. Two men with .45s stepped forward to pat him down. “Those are loaded with Raon cartridges, aren’t they?” he asked. They ignored him.
“He’s clean.” one grunted as they backed away.
“Good. You can put your guns away boys.” Jacob said, “I kept my end of the bargain he will keep his. Jand never breaks his word.”
“And yet you still had then frisk me.” Jand said with a smirk that quickly disappeared. “Tell your cronies to leave, you don’t need them, its my life for hers just like we agreed.” Jand’s smirk returned as he continued. “Even if you did need them they wouldn’t do you any good. You know that you could put me in front of a military firing squad naked and they’d all be dead before the shots stopped ringing.” The guards all shifted nervously and Jand’s smirk grew to a grin at seeing the henchmen so easily unnerved. “This is between you and me, if you want to kill me do it yourself. You know I can’t hurt you when you’re wearing that suit I gave you.”
“You never cease to amaze me Jand.” Jacob said with an odd smile. “Get in the van and leave.” he barked at the men. “That’s what I never understood about you. You were always so stuck on honor and saving the insignificant little guys, like me, just think if you hadn’t saved me I wouldn’t be such a pain in your ass right now.”
Jand took his sunglasses and moved them so they sat atop his head. “It was the right thing to do.” he said staring Jacob in the eye; his piercing eyes seeing deep inside him.
“The right thing to do.” Jacob mocked him with a sneer. “See that’s what always got you into trouble, like now,” he said spreading his arms and looking around, “here you are, without a single weapon, to give your life for a stupid little girl. You are completely in my power all because of your stupid honor.”
“Yes. Ironic, isn’t it, that you find such pleasure in the fact that I willingly submit myself to your power? You can kill me however you wish, I won’t fight back.” He said it simply, meekly.
“I know you won’t. You’re such a fool. I could blow your brains out or rip your limbs off.”
“So do it. Why do you wait? It’s because you’re scared. You always talked big but you hate the blood and guts. You always were a coward. That’s why you left us and that’s why you haven’t killed me yet.”
“Fine I will, nice and slowly.” Jacob swung up with a hook and caught him in the stomach. He flew up off the floor and hit the ceiling of the auditorium. He dropped to the floor and landed in a crouch. Grabbing Jand by the collar Jacob threw him headfirst into the rows of chairs, the seats scattered like blowing pins as their bolts were ripped from the floor.
Jand stood blood trickling down his forehead, “That’s not the best you can do. Stop putzing around and really hit me! Don’t you want to kill me?!”
“What’s the matter with you? Do you want to die?” Jacob practically screamed as he lunged forward.
“For me to die is gain, for me to live is Christ.”
“Then Die!” Jacob roared and punched Jand in the face with such force that he would have flown half across the auditorium but Jacob reached and grabbed his ankle, swung him around through another row of chairs and slammed him to the ground cracking the concrete.
“That’s right,” Jand whispered as he stood, his jaw crooked, “use every move I ever taught you.”
Jacob grasped him by the wrist and twisted, it broke with a sickly crack as Jand’s feet lifted of the ground. He landed in a heap in the aisle. Running forward Jacob kicked him in the chest bringing him up in the air and punched him so he landed on the stage.
“You should have never saved me and prolonged my miserable existence, then I wouldn’t be here to kill you now. I’m sorry Andrew but I have to.”
In a flash he was on the stage and kicked Andrew into the air again. He kept him in the air, savagely kicking again and again until he was upright in the air. Suddenly a poison-green nimbus of flame blossomed from the center of Jacob’s hand as he palm heeled Andrew to the chest. The micro-transmitter in Andrew’s coat pocket short-circuited as he slammed through the wall of the building and fell toward the asphalt below. Every thing moved in overhead as they swirled together and with a blinding flash hurtled a white-blue beam to the earth, striking through the mountain of falling rubble. “So we die together.” Andrew thought. Everything went hazy, then black as he slipped from consciousness. The shock wave traveled outward enveloping Andrew and the white comet rushing through the air toward him.
He could see Jacob standing in front of him, his tortured face pale in the blue light of the moon, he laughed but it was a cold and bitter laugh. “No Andrew it will never be like that, not for me, things will always be this way. That’s why I’m leaving.”
Flash.
Training, sparring, he leaned in for a punch, his face lit with a fierce enjoyment of the moment, Andrew went into a back handspring catching Jacob’s wrist between his feet and throwing him forward.
Flash.
They were all in the dining hall eating and laughing, Jacob was trying not to choke on his food while laughing so hard he shook.
Flash.
Jacob did what he always did, he got in the way, he took a Raon charge in the vest and tumbled backward off the roof. He was calling, “Help me! Help me! Andrew Please help me!” but this time there was no pavement below only darkness, this time no matter how fast Andrew flew downward he couldn’t catch Jacob before he disappeared into the blackness and that was somewhere Andrew couldn’t follow, not now and perhaps not ever. He pulled up, fighting the massive amount of momentum he had gathered, he forced every last bit of energy into his suit until he stopped in midair. With one last look down into the darkness he lifted his head and slowly flew upward toward the white light that grew to envelop him.
His eyes fluttered open as reality slid into a hazy focus. A pretty young woman leaned over him, her brown hair hanging down almost touching him, the light her head obscured streaming through her hair making it glow a warm amber-gold.
“Seth said you two bounced around like a ping pong ball in that mess you made.” She poked a finger at him, “You almost got yourself killed Buster. What were you thinking?”
“Hi Dannie.” he mumbled, “You look exhausted. You should get some sleep.”
“Well maybe I could if I wasn’t on a death watch.” She said shaking the finger at him. “You scared us sick. If your ribs weren’t broken I think I’d hit you.” She acted if she were angry, but she was so happy to see him awake she couldn’t help but smile as she poked his shoulder once again.
“Glad to know I’m cared for.” He whispered as he drifted into a peaceful sleep, a smile on his cut and swollen lips.
© Andrew J. Goggans 2007
It may not make a lot of sense to most of you because it's really more of an episode in a series than a stand alone short story. I have a several other episodes in this same story line that I am currently working on but, unlike this one, they aren't really finished yet and do to some not so great reactions and misunderstandings that arose the last time I show people incomplete works that won't be happening again. I will probably post things in the future that will receive further editing but unless the entire episode/story is written out, nobody gets to see it.
Suicide
A Short Story
By
Andrew J. Goggans
It wasn’t cold rain, even if it was he wouldn’t have cared, he liked the rain. It was an old building on the edge of town. It had once been a school or something. He stepped in out of the rain. Florescent light glinted off his sunglasses as he walked to the elevator.
Ding. The doors slid open and he stepped out. As he stepped out of the anteroom and into the hallway he could sense the guards stepping around the corner to follow him, but he was gone.
The rain dripped from his long hair onto the upturned collar of his trench coat as he stood behind a pillar on the balcony. There were fifteen men with every type of gun imaginable placed around the room, one was pointing an Uzi in the general direction of a girl who was obviously scared witless. The two guards stumbled into the room panic stricken. “Where did he go?” one shouted. The others all cursed and scanned the room.
“You’ll never find me that way. Let her go and I’m all yours Jacob.” he said leaning with his back to the pillar, arms crossed, his head bowed. The words bounced around the old auditorium.
“Jand don’t! They’ll kill you! It’s not worth it! Just Go!” the young woman screamed.
“Tiff, do me a favor and make this easier for me; just shut up and run.” he said almost too quiet to be heard but the whisper echoed around the room hauntingly.
“Just do as he says.” Jacob said coldly as a guard shoved her out a side door.
“And please run like hell till you’re far, far from here.” Jand whispered after her. Spinning around the pillar and placing a hand on the rail he leapt from the balcony and landed in the center aisle in a crouch, cracking the cement floor under his feet. One hand was on the floor, his head raised to stare at the terrified men in front of him. Every gun in the place was trained on him. Standing he reached up and slid his fingers back through his hair, then spread his arms. Two men with .45s stepped forward to pat him down. “Those are loaded with Raon cartridges, aren’t they?” he asked. They ignored him.
“He’s clean.” one grunted as they backed away.
“Good. You can put your guns away boys.” Jacob said, “I kept my end of the bargain he will keep his. Jand never breaks his word.”
“And yet you still had then frisk me.” Jand said with a smirk that quickly disappeared. “Tell your cronies to leave, you don’t need them, its my life for hers just like we agreed.” Jand’s smirk returned as he continued. “Even if you did need them they wouldn’t do you any good. You know that you could put me in front of a military firing squad naked and they’d all be dead before the shots stopped ringing.” The guards all shifted nervously and Jand’s smirk grew to a grin at seeing the henchmen so easily unnerved. “This is between you and me, if you want to kill me do it yourself. You know I can’t hurt you when you’re wearing that suit I gave you.”
“You never cease to amaze me Jand.” Jacob said with an odd smile. “Get in the van and leave.” he barked at the men. “That’s what I never understood about you. You were always so stuck on honor and saving the insignificant little guys, like me, just think if you hadn’t saved me I wouldn’t be such a pain in your ass right now.”
Jand took his sunglasses and moved them so they sat atop his head. “It was the right thing to do.” he said staring Jacob in the eye; his piercing eyes seeing deep inside him.
“The right thing to do.” Jacob mocked him with a sneer. “See that’s what always got you into trouble, like now,” he said spreading his arms and looking around, “here you are, without a single weapon, to give your life for a stupid little girl. You are completely in my power all because of your stupid honor.”
“Yes. Ironic, isn’t it, that you find such pleasure in the fact that I willingly submit myself to your power? You can kill me however you wish, I won’t fight back.” He said it simply, meekly.
“I know you won’t. You’re such a fool. I could blow your brains out or rip your limbs off.”
“So do it. Why do you wait? It’s because you’re scared. You always talked big but you hate the blood and guts. You always were a coward. That’s why you left us and that’s why you haven’t killed me yet.”
“Fine I will, nice and slowly.” Jacob swung up with a hook and caught him in the stomach. He flew up off the floor and hit the ceiling of the auditorium. He dropped to the floor and landed in a crouch. Grabbing Jand by the collar Jacob threw him headfirst into the rows of chairs, the seats scattered like blowing pins as their bolts were ripped from the floor.
Jand stood blood trickling down his forehead, “That’s not the best you can do. Stop putzing around and really hit me! Don’t you want to kill me?!”
“What’s the matter with you? Do you want to die?” Jacob practically screamed as he lunged forward.
“For me to die is gain, for me to live is Christ.”
“Then Die!” Jacob roared and punched Jand in the face with such force that he would have flown half across the auditorium but Jacob reached and grabbed his ankle, swung him around through another row of chairs and slammed him to the ground cracking the concrete.
“That’s right,” Jand whispered as he stood, his jaw crooked, “use every move I ever taught you.”
Jacob grasped him by the wrist and twisted, it broke with a sickly crack as Jand’s feet lifted of the ground. He landed in a heap in the aisle. Running forward Jacob kicked him in the chest bringing him up in the air and punched him so he landed on the stage.
“You should have never saved me and prolonged my miserable existence, then I wouldn’t be here to kill you now. I’m sorry Andrew but I have to.”
In a flash he was on the stage and kicked Andrew into the air again. He kept him in the air, savagely kicking again and again until he was upright in the air. Suddenly a poison-green nimbus of flame blossomed from the center of Jacob’s hand as he palm heeled Andrew to the chest. The micro-transmitter in Andrew’s coat pocket short-circuited as he slammed through the wall of the building and fell toward the asphalt below. Every thing moved in overhead as they swirled together and with a blinding flash hurtled a white-blue beam to the earth, striking through the mountain of falling rubble. “So we die together.” Andrew thought. Everything went hazy, then black as he slipped from consciousness. The shock wave traveled outward enveloping Andrew and the white comet rushing through the air toward him.
He could see Jacob standing in front of him, his tortured face pale in the blue light of the moon, he laughed but it was a cold and bitter laugh. “No Andrew it will never be like that, not for me, things will always be this way. That’s why I’m leaving.”
Flash.
Training, sparring, he leaned in for a punch, his face lit with a fierce enjoyment of the moment, Andrew went into a back handspring catching Jacob’s wrist between his feet and throwing him forward.
Flash.
They were all in the dining hall eating and laughing, Jacob was trying not to choke on his food while laughing so hard he shook.
Flash.
Jacob did what he always did, he got in the way, he took a Raon charge in the vest and tumbled backward off the roof. He was calling, “Help me! Help me! Andrew Please help me!” but this time there was no pavement below only darkness, this time no matter how fast Andrew flew downward he couldn’t catch Jacob before he disappeared into the blackness and that was somewhere Andrew couldn’t follow, not now and perhaps not ever. He pulled up, fighting the massive amount of momentum he had gathered, he forced every last bit of energy into his suit until he stopped in midair. With one last look down into the darkness he lifted his head and slowly flew upward toward the white light that grew to envelop him.
His eyes fluttered open as reality slid into a hazy focus. A pretty young woman leaned over him, her brown hair hanging down almost touching him, the light her head obscured streaming through her hair making it glow a warm amber-gold.
“Seth said you two bounced around like a ping pong ball in that mess you made.” She poked a finger at him, “You almost got yourself killed Buster. What were you thinking?”
“Hi Dannie.” he mumbled, “You look exhausted. You should get some sleep.”
“Well maybe I could if I wasn’t on a death watch.” She said shaking the finger at him. “You scared us sick. If your ribs weren’t broken I think I’d hit you.” She acted if she were angry, but she was so happy to see him awake she couldn’t help but smile as she poked his shoulder once again.
“Glad to know I’m cared for.” He whispered as he drifted into a peaceful sleep, a smile on his cut and swollen lips.
© Andrew J. Goggans 2007
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Winning the Culture War
Back before Christmas I was in a bookstore trying to convince a friend to buy a copy of Eragon and read it before the movie came out. As I walked down the aisles looking for the fantasy section, I noticed the entire section (a 6' x 6' bookshelf) devoted to "Christian Fiction", and I suddenly wished there was no such thing. This was a secular store, not a Lifeway or other such bookstore, and so the selection was thus smaller and contained much of the better works to come out of Christian publishing houses in the past few years. I saw several books a trusted bibliophile has reviewed or even interviewed the authors of; yet I was still struck by how worthless, or simply copycat-ish, a good number of the books on that shelf were and it made me sad. I am sick an tired of the word ‘Christian’ being used as an adjective; as a brand name, as a marketing tool used to make sure every possible corner of the business market is catered to and exploited.
Let us start at the beginning, which, as some one far wiser than I once said, is always a good place to start. To understand the relationship between the current culture and us, and particularly to understand our “Christian” sub-culture let’s look at the Jesus movement in the 70s. With Crusade for Christ, Billy Graham Youth Ministries, and other such organizations working across the country, small meaningful bible studies sprung everywhere. At these hippies with guitars, my mom included (she’s written some pretty cool scripture-put-to-music songs), started cranking out songs of “love ‘n peace” with the Christ as the source of that hope for man kind. Praise and worship music was born, and as was “Christian contemporary music” not an organization but just as a ‘genre’.
Soon people began to realize that the devil really did have all the good music and that there was no need for that. People like Mark Heard, Don Francisco, Randy Stonehill, Keith Green, the three siblings (names fail me) of Second Chapter of Acts, and others began to produce music of a quality, musically and lyrically, that anyone in their day, and even people, could enjoy it. Their music carried profound messages about the human condition and God’s provision of salvation through His son Jesus in a eloquent and real way that went straight to the heart of the listener. Being human they also wrote love songs, and songs for their children, and included them on the albums making it obvious to the world that they were real people who really believed this stuff and really cared about the spiritual condition of their listeners. Their music was a ministry of encouragement to believers and an effective outreach to those who were lost. They provided a much need escape for Christians from the constant brain washing of the culture’s music, while being musically skilled enough to be respected and listened to by non-believing musicians and listeners. We should all be eternally thankful to them for breaking the mold and paving the way for the many artists who follow in their footsteps.
Now I can hear the screams in the minds of my readers “But Christian music sucks!” and I will be the first to admit that there is some music put out by Christians that is not really all that great. But let us concede three points:
1) There are about a zillion different styles of music from all different eras including our own and just because you don’t like a particular genre that doesn’t mean it actually sucks, or that the musicians have no talent.
2) Half your problem, and mine as well some times, is just simply bad attitude: you can learn to appreciate and even enjoy other types of music if you will simply try, I know this from personal experience.
I have spent my entire summer, every summer since I was twelve, on construction sites listening to sheet-rockers and electricians who can’t sing for their lives scream along with their favorite country or classic rock songs. Despite the workers’ inability to carry a tune, the difference in preferred style, and the terrible worldly messages imbedded in such music I find myself actually enjoying the once hated music and sometimes having to force myself not to sing the lyrics that glorify living in the flesh.
This process is true for Christian music as well: thanks to my parents and grandparents I love the old hymns, thanks to my parents and brothers, I know and enjoy the modern Christian music from its birth in the 70s all the way up to present. Similarly when I was younger I hated musicals; yes, I even found The Sound of Music annoying (it was Marry Poppins that made me hate them so). But thanks to my mom and friends like Katrina, I know love such Broad Way stuff as The Phantom of the Opera, Oklahoma (that’s Hugh Jackman got his start as a big actor), and The King and I and others. I think I’ve given enough examples to make my point.
3) We are blessed that there are a lot of musicians, who are talented in the modern styles enjoyed by the masses, producing music that has excellent lyrics; though one can certainly hope that some of these artists, in their search for excellence, will soon be the ones pushing the envelope exploring new styles of music rather than always providing an alternative to the popular secular bands.
This brings of to the other area of contention/misunderstanding when it comes to Christian music, or “Christian” anything else. The difference is in where the artists see their calling or ministry: in providing music (or books) specifically for Christians as opposed to providing music (or books) that are meant to reach out to non-believers. This is a very big area of misunderstanding for many people I have talked to. Many Christians when complaining about contemporary Christian music fuss about the fact that it’s all in “Christian-ease” and that no non-believer would ever want or be able to listen to it. While on the hand I’ve had friends complain of just the opposite, that they feel they are being minister too and that everything they hear is meant to reach the unsaved. This difference in calling carries over to every other realm of the humanities as well.
In film we see that the vision to use film to spread the gospel and engage the culture was seen and to an extent realized in the past through such films as The Ten Commandments and The Robe, both movies that were incredible movies that told a great story, and while preaching full throttle they didn’t come off as “preachy”. While Billy Graham’s evangelistic films were a bit more “preachy” they were still decent movies that fulfilled their intended goal by bringing thousands to the Lord. Recent attempts by Christians to make movies have not been nearly as successful but, as demonstrated by One Night with the King, we are learning to convey Truth* through a story beautifully told in the medium of film, without come off as “preachy” and thus scaring away our audience before we start. (If you've actualy read all this please mention rice crispy cake in your comment.)
This is seen particularly in Christian books stores. I understand that such stores came about because it was hard for Christians to find books, music, videos that were safe for their kids or informative for them and so some one rightly had the idea to minister to that need by opening a store that would cater to Christians. That’s great, but now we have a brand name. By putting the word “Christian” as an adjective before bookstore, music, movie, etc. we exclude all nonbelievers; we make ourselves and our works inaccessible.
In the article(1) about Switchfoot I referenced in an earlier post John Foreman, lead singer/songwriter for the band, stated that they as a band did not set out to make “Christian music” they simply make music that conveys to whoever that listener may, be saved or not, their love of their God and the work He has done in their lives. God made them musicians, and just like every other musician, writer, and film maker in existence their beliefs, experiences, and religion informed and shaped what that music would be and say. This is what C.S. Lewis meant when he said, “We need more writers that are Christians and less Christians that are writers.”
I strongly identify with that quote and Foreman’s statement. When I started writing my yet to be finished novel Aclion didn’t set out to write a “Christian” book, I simply wrote because that is a part of who God made me to be. Even after I realized that this was a big story and I needed to get intentional about the storyline, content, and message, I still didn’t say, “I want to write a book for Christians.” or “I want to write a book to reach non-Christians.” I simply said that I wanted to write a book that conveys Truth about life, our world, and our God to whoever might pick it up.
This is not to say that I believe making a movie, or music, or a book, specifically for Christians, or to reach non-believers, is wrong. Writing bible study books, books about Christian marriage, how to raise kids, whatever, with Christians as the intended audience is great, but the fact that a non-believer believer may pick up the work must be carefully considered, especially when writing fiction, making movies or music.
Instead of having a “Christian bookstore”, why not have a bookstore that sells Christian stuff but also the works of others that are well worth reading? Why do Barnes & Noble get to be the only ones to sell such amazing works as A Tale of Two Cities, Swiss Family Robinson, or Ben Hur which were all written by Christians? Or sell such classics as The Count of Monte Cristo, Ivanhoe, Robin Hood, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and others? Why do we have to publish poor stories by bad writers simply because “it has a good message” and comes for a “Christian" publisher?
I understand the entirely good intentions, of the authors of these books, but the fact is that you will never reach the lost if you can’t come to their level, and speak in a convincing manner that they understand. Paul shows us the perfect example of this on Mars Hill in the book of Acts. Why can’t we follow his example?
If we want to effectively engage our culture and win this “war” by bring people to the Truth then we are going to have to, and that means changing the way we do business.
Notes:
* When I use “Truth” I mean God’s ultimate, transcendent truth that is true for all people and should dictate the way in which we live.
1) In a very recent CCM Magazine (the issue is on the left when you follow the link).
Let us start at the beginning, which, as some one far wiser than I once said, is always a good place to start. To understand the relationship between the current culture and us, and particularly to understand our “Christian” sub-culture let’s look at the Jesus movement in the 70s. With Crusade for Christ, Billy Graham Youth Ministries, and other such organizations working across the country, small meaningful bible studies sprung everywhere. At these hippies with guitars, my mom included (she’s written some pretty cool scripture-put-to-music songs), started cranking out songs of “love ‘n peace” with the Christ as the source of that hope for man kind. Praise and worship music was born, and as was “Christian contemporary music” not an organization but just as a ‘genre’.
Soon people began to realize that the devil really did have all the good music and that there was no need for that. People like Mark Heard, Don Francisco, Randy Stonehill, Keith Green, the three siblings (names fail me) of Second Chapter of Acts, and others began to produce music of a quality, musically and lyrically, that anyone in their day, and even people, could enjoy it. Their music carried profound messages about the human condition and God’s provision of salvation through His son Jesus in a eloquent and real way that went straight to the heart of the listener. Being human they also wrote love songs, and songs for their children, and included them on the albums making it obvious to the world that they were real people who really believed this stuff and really cared about the spiritual condition of their listeners. Their music was a ministry of encouragement to believers and an effective outreach to those who were lost. They provided a much need escape for Christians from the constant brain washing of the culture’s music, while being musically skilled enough to be respected and listened to by non-believing musicians and listeners. We should all be eternally thankful to them for breaking the mold and paving the way for the many artists who follow in their footsteps.
Now I can hear the screams in the minds of my readers “But Christian music sucks!” and I will be the first to admit that there is some music put out by Christians that is not really all that great. But let us concede three points:
1) There are about a zillion different styles of music from all different eras including our own and just because you don’t like a particular genre that doesn’t mean it actually sucks, or that the musicians have no talent.
2) Half your problem, and mine as well some times, is just simply bad attitude: you can learn to appreciate and even enjoy other types of music if you will simply try, I know this from personal experience.
I have spent my entire summer, every summer since I was twelve, on construction sites listening to sheet-rockers and electricians who can’t sing for their lives scream along with their favorite country or classic rock songs. Despite the workers’ inability to carry a tune, the difference in preferred style, and the terrible worldly messages imbedded in such music I find myself actually enjoying the once hated music and sometimes having to force myself not to sing the lyrics that glorify living in the flesh.
This process is true for Christian music as well: thanks to my parents and grandparents I love the old hymns, thanks to my parents and brothers, I know and enjoy the modern Christian music from its birth in the 70s all the way up to present. Similarly when I was younger I hated musicals; yes, I even found The Sound of Music annoying (it was Marry Poppins that made me hate them so). But thanks to my mom and friends like Katrina, I know love such Broad Way stuff as The Phantom of the Opera, Oklahoma (that’s Hugh Jackman got his start as a big actor), and The King and I and others. I think I’ve given enough examples to make my point.
3) We are blessed that there are a lot of musicians, who are talented in the modern styles enjoyed by the masses, producing music that has excellent lyrics; though one can certainly hope that some of these artists, in their search for excellence, will soon be the ones pushing the envelope exploring new styles of music rather than always providing an alternative to the popular secular bands.
This brings of to the other area of contention/misunderstanding when it comes to Christian music, or “Christian” anything else. The difference is in where the artists see their calling or ministry: in providing music (or books) specifically for Christians as opposed to providing music (or books) that are meant to reach out to non-believers. This is a very big area of misunderstanding for many people I have talked to. Many Christians when complaining about contemporary Christian music fuss about the fact that it’s all in “Christian-ease” and that no non-believer would ever want or be able to listen to it. While on the hand I’ve had friends complain of just the opposite, that they feel they are being minister too and that everything they hear is meant to reach the unsaved. This difference in calling carries over to every other realm of the humanities as well.
In film we see that the vision to use film to spread the gospel and engage the culture was seen and to an extent realized in the past through such films as The Ten Commandments and The Robe, both movies that were incredible movies that told a great story, and while preaching full throttle they didn’t come off as “preachy”. While Billy Graham’s evangelistic films were a bit more “preachy” they were still decent movies that fulfilled their intended goal by bringing thousands to the Lord. Recent attempts by Christians to make movies have not been nearly as successful but, as demonstrated by One Night with the King, we are learning to convey Truth* through a story beautifully told in the medium of film, without come off as “preachy” and thus scaring away our audience before we start. (If you've actualy read all this please mention rice crispy cake in your comment.)
This is seen particularly in Christian books stores. I understand that such stores came about because it was hard for Christians to find books, music, videos that were safe for their kids or informative for them and so some one rightly had the idea to minister to that need by opening a store that would cater to Christians. That’s great, but now we have a brand name. By putting the word “Christian” as an adjective before bookstore, music, movie, etc. we exclude all nonbelievers; we make ourselves and our works inaccessible.
In the article(1) about Switchfoot I referenced in an earlier post John Foreman, lead singer/songwriter for the band, stated that they as a band did not set out to make “Christian music” they simply make music that conveys to whoever that listener may, be saved or not, their love of their God and the work He has done in their lives. God made them musicians, and just like every other musician, writer, and film maker in existence their beliefs, experiences, and religion informed and shaped what that music would be and say. This is what C.S. Lewis meant when he said, “We need more writers that are Christians and less Christians that are writers.”
I strongly identify with that quote and Foreman’s statement. When I started writing my yet to be finished novel Aclion didn’t set out to write a “Christian” book, I simply wrote because that is a part of who God made me to be. Even after I realized that this was a big story and I needed to get intentional about the storyline, content, and message, I still didn’t say, “I want to write a book for Christians.” or “I want to write a book to reach non-Christians.” I simply said that I wanted to write a book that conveys Truth about life, our world, and our God to whoever might pick it up.
This is not to say that I believe making a movie, or music, or a book, specifically for Christians, or to reach non-believers, is wrong. Writing bible study books, books about Christian marriage, how to raise kids, whatever, with Christians as the intended audience is great, but the fact that a non-believer believer may pick up the work must be carefully considered, especially when writing fiction, making movies or music.
Instead of having a “Christian bookstore”, why not have a bookstore that sells Christian stuff but also the works of others that are well worth reading? Why do Barnes & Noble get to be the only ones to sell such amazing works as A Tale of Two Cities, Swiss Family Robinson, or Ben Hur which were all written by Christians? Or sell such classics as The Count of Monte Cristo, Ivanhoe, Robin Hood, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and others? Why do we have to publish poor stories by bad writers simply because “it has a good message” and comes for a “Christian" publisher?
I understand the entirely good intentions, of the authors of these books, but the fact is that you will never reach the lost if you can’t come to their level, and speak in a convincing manner that they understand. Paul shows us the perfect example of this on Mars Hill in the book of Acts. Why can’t we follow his example?
If we want to effectively engage our culture and win this “war” by bring people to the Truth then we are going to have to, and that means changing the way we do business.
Notes:
* When I use “Truth” I mean God’s ultimate, transcendent truth that is true for all people and should dictate the way in which we live.
1) In a very recent CCM Magazine (the issue is on the left when you follow the link).
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