Entertainment-itis Part 2

All or Nothing?

I ended part one of this article with, “In light of the potential pitfalls, is it necessary to swear off the entertainment industry altogether, or is there a recourse? I believe there is.”

I know what kinds of visual entertainment are going to give me trouble, and I avoid them (most of the time). Fortunately, there's a whole host of wholesome alternatives that I can even buy in box sets, so when the urge to chill comes along, I'm ready.

But what about music? 

Here's where I must respectfully disagree with some fellow believers I dearly love and deeply respect. I'm speaking of those who hold the position that: a) only psalms should be sung in worship services (sometimes even sans instrumental accompaniment); or b) only traditional hymns will do. There also seems to be much discord over whether "praise bands" should serve in churches to enhance the musical component of worship.

I even remember one dear saint who wreaked havoc in a church body over whether or not drums should be permitted in the assembly.

The old hymns are wonderful and many, even magnificent. It Is Well With My Soul, and the story behind it, can't be called anything but a monument to God's enduring love in the midst of cruelest hardship. Likewise, A Mighty Fortress is Our God stands among Martin Luther's finest accomplishments, and has served to comfort our country in its deepest distress. And who would deny that blind Fanny Crosby's hymns demonstrate more vision than the keenest spectacles could afford?

I wouldn't think of taking anything away from such lyrical masterpieces.

But let's face it, the world - and music - have evolved. Not every tune in the dog-eared hymnal is a work of crowning achievement. While music with a Christian message has developed over the years, many of the classic hymns and gospel songs carry with them quite a dated birth certificate. Some are less than singable, and many fail to resonate with modern listeners, especially the youth.

This is a problem. In a world where full albums can be had with a click on a phone, young listeners simply must be offered inspiring musical choices that can stand against the plethora of filth often churned out by unbelieving but oh-so-talented entertainers. In the light speed world of today’s music industry, million-dollar record moguls pump out earworm hits like it’s their job (and good for them, because it is their job). While not everyone’s cup of tea, these infectious tunes will have even the least interested of parties tapping their feet to the same line repeated over and over. It only stands to reason that removing said styles and voices of music altogether for fear of a fruitless message would certainly inspire curiosity and almost a “forbidden fruit” kind of allure. What makes this so bad? Why can’t I have it? There has to be a middle ground for an adventurous palate. A sip of wine as opposed to the whole bottle.

Contemporary music is constantly being adapted to the modern listener for one purpose - money. Just as record conglomerates design their music for a specific purpose (money), should we not support doing the same for another purpose (spreading the gospel)?

Enter, Contemporary Christian Music

Recognizing that tastes have changed, many modern Christian musicians have stepped up to showcase work they've composed with hearts, I believe, every bit as full and sincere as those of the great composers we've just mentioned. These songsters possess a true gift for melody and poetry which, unlike the foolish servant whom Christ condemned, they are attempting to wisely steward. 

Why shouldn't they be encouraged to use their gifts for the betterment of humanity in general and their Christian brethren in particular?

Think of it this way. Nobody enjoys taking a big, fat pill every day, especially children. I remember when I was a child, encountering my first antibiotic pill. I dreaded taking this pill each day. It was scary and I couldn’t understand how this unappealing, almost certainly life-threatening chore was going to benefit me in any way whatsoever. After several days of me probably driving my poor parents up a wall by refusing to take my medicine, they decided to start hiding them in spoonfuls of ice cream. I must say that this timeless tactic is absolutely brilliant. It’s an easy plot to see through as an adult, however, as a nine-year-old, I had no clue that this treat I was receiving was also doing me some good!

I believe the same concept can be applied to Christian music. The gospel can be a hard pill to swallow for some, especially in the modern world where so many are unwilling to listen. I get it, it’s hard to hear that none of us is worthy, that only by the wonderful grace of another Entity alone, we are saved. To many, the concept is unappealing, and with so many other fast paced distractions, there is certainly a fair share of competition. Here is where the ice cream comes in. As we discussed, many of these hymns and the messages behind them can be hard to swallow. However, disguised under the right flavor of "ice cream," listeners may have no idea that the treat they are receiving is also doing them some good.

Can we really argue that there isn't room alongside Spafford and Luther for the likes of Casting Crowns, whose reworking of time-worn hymns only freshens and beautifies them in a new way for a newer, younger audience? Should we tell front man Mark Hall (who also happens to be a youth pastor) to leave it at that, and shut off his own creative juices, lest he surpass the old-time greats? We could, but then he'd have had to hold back on Just Be Held, which speaks to millions of cancer survivors like himself, as well as folks like me, whose cross isn't cancer, but may seem just as heavy.

Are guitars and drum kits less holy than harps and violins? In what way do synthesizers diminish traditional keyboards? Why can't these different musical modalities simply coexist in the church, as they do in other venues?

Bottom line: palatability does not necessarily have to equal compromise.

Modern or Menacing?

Consider this. In today’s world, one would look a little ridiculous searching for a horse to ride to the grocery store. The ‘99 Corolla parked outside might have been viewed as a manifestation of witchcraft to our ancestors, but this is simply the way the world has evolved. It’s what we do now. It’s how we experience and navigate the home God has given us. Technology has changed and will continue to change, and I submit that it’s almost the Christian’s responsibility to acquaint himself with that technology and use it responsibly.

The computer on which I’m typing is a modern convenience. So is the Internet, which I’m using to link readers to stories and songs that will hopefully inspire and enhance their walks with the Savior.

Would my article somehow be more worthy or honorable if I had needed to make countless trips to the library to do my research? Or if I had had to start with a fresh sheet of paper whenever I made a mistake, instead of cutting and pasting? True, I’m risking temptation each time I log onto the Internet, what with all that’s available on that dangerous highway, but what a blessed instrument of time-saving and information gleaning.

My point is, just because something is modern doesn’t automatically make it a menace. Typing is still typing, whether it’s done on an old Smith Corona or a brand-new HP. The tools and means of delivery may have changed, but the product can be every bit as valuable when created by people with principles.

I, for one, derive great inspiration from songs like We Believe and Even If, and it wouldn't surprise me one bit if God in His wisdom situates Matthew West's heavenly mansion right next to Fanny Crosby's, so together they can sing His praises throughout eternity. After all, God wants us to relish and enjoy his creation, using all the gifts with which He has blessed us during “our watch.” Let’s just make sure we are doing so responsibly.

Let’s Not Stop There

Part three of this series will offer further suggestions to combat “entertainment-itis,” so don’t leave town! Oh, wait, this blog content can be accessed with the click of a phone (that’s called progress and advancement, which is a major theme of this article).

So, go ahead and leave town! Just don’t forget to check your email for part 3 of “Entertainment-itis" - coming soon to a cell phone near you. 

On Sacrifice

Absurdity

Something very precious is being lost in our country. The loss began happening with the advent of the women’s movement and has continued steadily over the past few decades. The notion that women are entitled to equal earning capacity due to their innate equality in brain power and inherent value has morphed into the idea that they are equal in every respect, including physical strength and protectorate capacity.

I recently viewed the latest Republican debate and was more than a little distressed that several key players ardently supported the mandatory conscription of women, should we revert to a draft. One candidate subsequently voiced his opinion that men should not expect women to protect them. Call me old-fashioned (and I’m sure some will call me worse than that), but I believe a woman’s willingness to nurture life from womb to adulthood should more than satisfy her protectorate requirements. Then again, many women these days are rejecting the former and haphazardly performing the latter, which perhaps has contributed to men’s lack of willingness to sacrifice for them.

Nevertheless, it used to be an insult to be accused of hiding behind a woman’s skirt or tied to her apron strings. Now this bearer of two X chromosomes fears that too many XY owners not only allow themselves to be carried by the women in their lives, but have come to expect it.

Masculinity

My dear friend, Cynthia, died several years ago. She was, in a word, brilliant. Her talents in drawing, music, writing, gardening and cooking were second to none.  Her wit was unparalleled. She could find wry humor in the mundane and, as a result, was a sparkling conversationalist. Perhaps Cynthia’s most remarkable feat was her evolution from an introverted, almost reclusive person into someone who forced herself out of her shell to the point where she came to know and love neighbors, perform at a music recital, and find love with an exceptional man named Bob.

Bob respected Cynthia’s independence and fought for it. When Cynthia’s boss mistreated her, Bob supported her decision to leave the position, even though she had no other employment prospects. He gallantly assumed the financial cares of the household, while she happily oversaw home projects. One of my most treasured possessions is a hutch he built for her. I assumed custody of this cherished piece after her passing, and found Bob had inscribed on the back the date of its completion, along with the date Cynthia approved its specifications – a tandem effort if ever there was one.

Possibly the quality which endeared Bob to me the most was his defense of Cynthia's honor. Among other things, my relationship with Cynthia was comprised of mutual barb-throwing. There was no truth behind the insults; it was all part of a complex relationship that spanned my entire lifetime and was based on raw humor and meaningless jibes. However, Bob let me know in no uncertain terms that assaults on Cynthia's character, even in jest, were not funny to him. He lived out his love for her, taking every opportunity to compliment her publicly and show his adoration for her.

When his wife received a cancer diagnosis, Bob joyfully cared for her body, soul and spirit, even in the midst of unrelated personal tragedy and his own health concerns. Although my friend had no health insurance when she fell ill, Bob drove her to appointments and assured his beloved they would find the money for her care. To this day, I suspect he’s still making payments on medical bills she incurred before they were even married.

To me, Bob is the epitome of what it means to be a man.

Maternity

The notion that women can and should gain as much education and career experience as their talents and pocketbooks allow is not only reasonable but essential in today’s society. The days when a woman’s primary concerns were the care of home and family are long past and, as a one who has had the privilege of being both a stay-at-home mom and a breadwinner, I’m thankful to have had the opportunity to spread my occupational wings a far greater distance than my mother did. HOWEVER, ability has brought with it a steep price tag. Many men have come to EXPECT their children’s mothers to give birth, fly right home from the hospital with barely a day or two to recover (sometimes less), and six weeks later be back on the job site pumping milk and rigorously performing  in their profession.

Since when did maternity become less a profession than teaching, ministering to the sick, or running a company? Last time I checked, motherhood required skills in all those areas, and many more. My parenting role has demanded more of me physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually than any paid position I’ve ever held, and the monetary compensation was zilch. No, make that negative numbers. The hours were longer and the stakes higher than any job I’ve ever worked (including waitressing, which is saying something), but the rewards have been commensurately exorbitant. My children’s successes have given me greater joy than any raise I’ve ever gotten, and lasted far longer than any paycheck I ever received.

Some mothers are horrors. I get that. I’ve seen it. Some are mediocre at best and abusive at worst. Should the lack of responsibility of a few denigrate the entire calling, any more than Kermit Gosnell should besmirch the whole medical profession? Should we not still do all in our power to heighten the prestige and purpose of so great a calling, even as we call to account the few bad apples in every bunch?

Sagacity

At the risk of incurring my younger son's ire, let me state unequivocally that my Christian faith informs and undergirds my views on this and every subject. About this, I am unapologetic. Indeed, the founders of this country, while not all practicing Christians, injected Biblical principles into the infrastructure of our democracy. Those same founders, not incidentally, fought for independence on behalf of their wives and sweethearts, who supported in ancillary roles. 

Women today, unlike their ancestors, have the choice to serve directly on the battlefield. Nevertheless, the difficulties of military service, horrors of war, blurring of lines between the sexes and blurring of gender in general all make the military an occupation that should be chosen by women rather than imposed upon them.

Profundity

"Nevertheless, in the Lord woman is not independent of man, nor is man independent of woman. For as woman came from man, so also man is born of woman. But everything comes from God." 1 Corinthians 11:11-12

"So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise." Galatians 3:26-29

" Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her... In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body, just as Christ does the church..." Ephesians 5:25, 28-29

Leaning In

The Horror

More terrible news yesterday. Gun violence in yet another public arena. This time, brutality on the West Coast, ending with loss of lives and shattered peace of mind for those who survived.

This one strikes close to home. My sister lives in California and I work with the special needs population, which was victimized by this unspeakable crime. Not that my personal connection to this atrocity should matter. The real heartache is, I ache because these stories are becoming so commonplace that it's hard to make myself ache over them anymore.

What to do? I ask in dismay. Wanton mass murder seems the order of the day: Oklahoma City, Columbine, Nickel Mines, Newtown, Charleston, Colorado Springs, etc., etc., etc. Notice, I deliberately didn't mention the Twin Towers and the Boston bombing. Why? Because at least the scoundrels who perpetrated those acts weren't our own countrymen. The ones I cited, and probably this most recent one, were carried out by fellow Americans on their own people.

Several times a year, my students practice lock down drills, huddling in dark corners of shuttered classrooms, hoping they never have to actually use the skills they're learning. This is the world we've inherited, the legacy we're leaving for our children.

Again I ask, what can be done?

The Prayer 

First and foremost, I pray. For all concerned. The innocent and the guilty alike.

Before anyone accuses me of being a bleeding heart, let me clarify. I pray also for justice and consequences to the fullest extent of the law, despite any claims of repentance uttered by perpetrators. That's God's job to sort out. Ours here on earth is to stand in the way of these criminals killing again. But, since I'm not in the role of dispensing justice this side of heaven or in the hereafter, I pray for the next best thing: changed hearts for malefactors in the making. It's based on a simple botanical concept: remove, re-root, and replant. First, I ask the Master Gardener to remove sin and replace it with Christ's righteousness; then, re-root the organism in living water (the Holy Spirit's infilling); and ultimately replant the new believer into surroundings that will foster growth and maturity.  

When all is said and done, I've prayed for the wrongdoers and the victims, direct and indirect, for in the wake of every massacre, collateral damage is done. People die (the obvious victims). Others survive the carnage, but are forced to live with horrible memories. And family members on both sides of the crime lose loved ones to the grave or prison. Nobody wins.

The Action

But prayer is a catalyst for God-directed action, which brings me to my second step: continued writing. Every page I turn out, in one way or another, is meant to prick readers' hearts with Christ's truth. This, along with whispered messages of hope and encouragement to the young minds God has entrusted to me at home and at school, is probably my greatest contribution to society. Oh, I sign petitions and make phone calls to Capitol Hill. I vote. But, like the old man on the beach who kept tossing starfish back into the ocean, I make my largest dent one organism at a time. I tally victories the same way, and how sweet those occasions (however few and far between) when one realizes one's intervention has helped rescue a drowning creature. Lest I become discouraged, I recall Harriet Tubman, Corrie ten Boom, Oskar Schindler and Irena Sendler, whose "one victim at a time" efforts yielded untold descendants of the people whose lives they saved. I like to imagine Martin Luther King, Jr. and Jonas Salk descending from the loins of some of the folks whose prayers were answered in the form of frail masses of DNA simply doing their part.

The Leaning

Finally, and overarchingly, I simply lean into Christ. This is perhaps the most difficult step, but no less crucial than the other two. I'm reminded of the first and, if I can help it, last time I will ever ride a motorcycle. The experience was harrowing to say the least. As the passenger, I had to depend on the driver in front, who instructed me to lean with him into every curve. This advice smacked of danger and disaster, and ran counter-intuitive to every impulse in my body that wanted to remain upright! I had to lay aside my doubt and fear and muster trembling trust in the one who did the steering. By trading in my comfort zone for what seemed unnatural and unwise, I actually participated in keeping us and the bike safe. Who'd've thought?

Conclusion

The last thing I want to do is offer pat advice. I don't understand why God allows these heinous crimes, and I haven't the first idea how to offer comfort to those affected by them. Sadly, I am personally acquainted with three individuals who have lost loved ones to murder, and I consider it a privilege to support them in the ways I've described. Beyond that, I shake my head with the rest of you ... and weep.

Check out Matthew West's Do Something ~ and then, go out and do something!

Cheap Date Part 2 (Disclaimer)

In musing about yesterday's blog post, I realized I may have come off sounding whiny and blaming others' attitudes for my choices. With Paul, I say, "God forbid!" (Romans 6:2). On the contrary, I and I alone (with subtle nudging from Satan) take responsibility for my own actions. The good news is, "His mercies are new every morning" (Lamentations 3:23), so I don't have to live in sackcloth and ashes when I fail. Rather, I can choose to apply the forgiveness He bestowed so many years ago to my wretched state.

Keith Green's version of  Easter Song says it best. 

For more like this, check out: Morsels for Meditation...: Cheap Date