Around the Blog–Misfit Artists, Storytelling, and Dancing

(1) You remember my misfit post, yes? And though I’m a part of a church that embraces me (and which I embrace), and though I have many friends, both "real" and cyberly, there’s still a part of me that’s misfitian. So how could I not rejoice in this series?

I find a kindred spirit in these misfit artists (though my work is not the quality of theirs!). They were rejected, their work declared ugly (as I write that, I realize that it sounds a little like Christ). Here’s one of my favorite lines from the post:

No simple or singular definition of their art, or their lives, would suffice: they were surprisingly varied in their personalities, political persuasions, and aesthetic dispositions, but found a common ground in their ambitions and in their brokenness.

Fujimura goes on to talk about the spiritual influences of the artists, the artists’ influence on spirituality, and what we can learn from them.

He says,

For me, even to reflect on the work of a contemporary artist is to wrestle deeply with questions of faith. For me, the role of an artist and a follower of Christ in contemporary culture is to transgress in love, learning from Jesus. 

He mentions John Cage, one of the composers I studied in college (and performed some of his works). I always considered him almost more of a philosopher than musician, but I think I was wrong. I see now that you can’t separate the two in an artist–art is philosophy and philosophy is art.

Great article. You must hope on over to see it.

Other related links:

Impressions at a Museum

Someone’s in the Kitchen with Dinah

Movies and Theology–Pollock

On Aesthetics

Aboard the Black Pearl

(2) There’s a conference in Hollywood in the fall on Storytelling in the 21st Century. Let me tell you, if I didn’t already have so much going on in the fall, I’d be hopping on a plane for that one. It’s hosted by Act One. They’re asking some great questions. Since I can’t go, perhaps it’ll be interesting to bat around some of the questions here. Go to the link and come back and tell me which questions are most interesting to you. My readers are smart people, and I’d like to discuss these things with you.

(3) I saw this video at Diary of an Arts Pastor, so I know many of you have seen it. It’s a picture of the gospel. It reminded me of Philippians 2, of every knee and every tongue glorifying Jesus. It’s fun and beautiful and good. David Taylor said he almost cried at the end, and I thought (before watching it), how silly. Cry at a man dancing?

Then I watched it.

And I cried.

All I can say is, like Deborah Kerr in An Affair to Remember, beauty makes me cry.



Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

Lessons from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and the Dentist Elf

Long post today, guys. Sorry. I wrote this about a year ago. Something Michelle said Monday reminded me of this. I still feel this way.

I feel like Rudolph and the dentist elf. They didn’t fit in because either they were born different or they strove to be something unexpected. Whoever heard of a red-nosed reindeer or an elf dentist? Even those who loved them most tried to change these anomalies, tried to hide them, or just flat out rejected them. So they ran away. To be honest, most days I want to runaway.
I grew up in a conservative church with strong, faithful parents. I grew up with Bible verses singing in my head, never knowing what it meant to not believe in Christ. And when I say I grew up in the church, I mean I grew up in the church. I lived and breathed the church. My closest friends were from my church. My family was the church.
Perhaps because of this strong foundation I have, I am free to question. Not question God or Who He is. Not question my salvation, my peace and joy, my hope in Christ. But I question how we understand this. How we understand the Bible. How we understand the world around us. How we are in the world but not of it. How we do this whole spirituality thing. And because of this questioning, sometimes I don’t feel accepted by my church family. Sometimes I feel pushed out. Sometimes I feel like this church family sees me as lost. Sometimes I feel unloved. Sometimes I feel like a misfit.
What do you do when you feel knocked down? Especially when the slaps and jeers come from the church, from your own “body”? Sometimes I feel beaten to a bloody pulp by the church – never mind the Levites and priests that pass by on the other side of the road. At least they don’t kick you while you’re down! Where do you go when you feel outside the wall? And if I, who grew up inside the wall, talking the language, laughing at the “why did the Christian cross the road” jokes, understanding the ritual, if I feel outside the wall, how much more so those who aren’t believers or who are new believers?
So most of the time I fight. But that is my community. I live one way. They live another way. Both of us are trying to live according to our understanding of God’s Story. Somehow both fit into that proverbial “gray area,” so perhaps it’s not about right v. wrong. Perhaps it is about love and acceptance, about trust and authenticity. I love U2. So many of their songs speak to me about Christian life and our hope. One tells me about the Christian community, the hopelessly-flawed but chosen by God Church. U2 says that we can’t live with or without each other. U2 says that we give, and we give, and we give ourselves away. That’s what being in community is. It means that struggle of frustration and love with the Church. It means giving ourselves away to the Church. These are my decisions. I may be constantly hurt by the Church. I may feel that my life is easier without the Church, but to act on those selfish – yes, selfish – feelings would be to go against God’s Truth told in the letter to the Ephesians. The Church should be about unity, love, compassion. Somehow, God wants me to be unified to a group of people I feel little to no natural inkling toward in order that together, we can incarnate God’s love in the world. For some reason, this is how God chose to do it. I don’t like it. Oh, I want authenticity, but I want it with my chosen people rather than God’s chosen people. How many times was Christ hurt by His intimate group of friends, even by the three that seemed to be His best friends? But He devoted His life to them. He gave Himself away. I’m to have the same attitude as Christ. Yuck. I want my time, my space, my choosing. But I have to love. I’m not called to seek acceptance in this Church that views some of me as borderline heretical. I’m to love.
I know how the story of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer ends. They find a whole Misfit Kingdom. They want to live in this misfit kingdom where they know they will be accepted, but the Misfit Lion King (is Jesus a misfit, too?) asks them to go back in the world to find a place for all of the misfits. They do. They risk their lives to go back. They found that a few who truly loved them went after them. They saved the day by pulling the teeth of a threatening enemy and breaking through a dark storm with the only reliable light. And they found a place for all of the other misfits. I know I have to go into the uncomfortable. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to fix some painful teeth when I ensconce myself in the world, in the church, in a seemingly meaningless job. Maybe I’ll find a loyal Cornelius in my travels who will understand me and accept me. Maybe I’ll find that those in the church do truly love me. Maybe even some of them need me, just as I need them. Maybe I’ll find other misfits looking for their place. Besides, I cannot hypocritically rant and rave diatribes against the church for creating their own alternate reality and then myself hide away with only those who like me.
I want to love, truly love and accept people without holding rules or my expectations over their head.