The book is rich with thought, but one in particular has stuck with me over the past several weeks. Crouch describes learning the cello at the age of 41 so that his children can see him struggling, learning, growing, and stretching himself. He was making a point about the lessons learned while putting oneself in a position where one is dependent upon another's capacity to teach or equip you in a skill. While profound, that thought isn't what has stuck with me most. Buried in that section of the book is this little gem of a thought:
"I want our family to create together, not just to consume together."
For weeks now that line has kept crashing into my internal monologues about parenting, family, and work. Usually it shows up in provocative and confrontational ways. It has me turning over all areas of my life asking questions like:
- Does this demonstrate a fruitful, expansive use of my time, talent, and treasure?
- Am I bringing about flourishing in my life or more importantly in the life of others?
- Is what I'm consuming necessary for me to consume? Media? Social media? Food? Housing?
- How am I adding value or beauty to the world and to others?
- Am I helping my children to see the beauty, power, dignity, and gravity of the image of God in themselves and others?
- Am I living out the divine commands for humans to be fruitful and multiply and to subdue and have dominion? If so, and more importantly am I doing it in a way that brings glory to God and allows others to flourish?
In a risk averse culture I have noticed that many of the things in my life (most notably retirement savings) that feel like wise decisions are really about delayed consumption. Somehow we don't feel so guilty about what is blatant consumption if we project it into the future.
With so much of my life built on convenience and efficiency I have realized that in reducing the wait and effort required to obtain some things I am really just increasing my capacity for consumption.
I think the are powerful and redemptive possibilities found in slowing down and cultivating the kind of life where struggle, patience, and steep learning curves are the norm. Our culture seems to have no place for this creative, deliberate, non-consumptive way of life.
Our accumulation of wealth, status, and in the case of millennials, hobbies like crossfit, home-brewing, fantasy football, and attaining social media prowess are usually facades for lives that only know how to consume. We entertain and 'improve' ourselves and exercise our freedom in Christ for almost entirely self-satisfying purposes (which, by the way is the antithesis of the freedom Christ bought for us!). If we are a bit uneasy about these patterns of consumption we will find ways to do them in community to help ease our consciences, because community is a good Christian thing to do right? But it is still all the same sad story of consumption.
Crouch is dead-on in his assessment of the need for humans to be creating and not just consuming. I have been so challenged these past few weeks to dig through my heart to see if I am really living out God's call for humans to flourish, multiply, and imprint our God-glorifying, image-bearing humanness all over this earth. At our best our creating gives glory to God. In using music as an example Crouch puts it this way:
"But from time to time, you hear music- whether Tuvan throat singing, a Beethovan symphony, a Bach chorale, a black gospel chorus- that shakes you to the core and leaves you both utterly satisfied and hungrier for life than you have ever been for life. That is glorious music. The best of culture has this quality of transcendent excellence, the ability to be utterly itself and to speak of something far greater than itself."
God is Something Far Greater that we all ought to be striving to show forth with our creative capacities.
I don't think you need to be a creative genius to enter into this God-given capacity to create. But you do need to be careful to not let busyness, convenient alternatives, and desires to consume and save steal away opportunities to cultivate a life that creates in a way that honors and glorifies God.
For you it might not be art or music. It might be the creative work of coaching a team and building chemistry. Or it might just be chemistry, creating new drugs that lead to better lives. Maybe try planting a garden. You could learn an instrument at the age of 41 like Crouch because there is beauty in the struggle. Or like me, you could try to write what passes as a blog. The possibilities are endless.
I'm not one to interpret art, music, or poetry but I am pretty sure that this song by Sara Groves is getting at the very same ideas about our capacity to create:
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