There is a parallel in language itself. Sanskrit, I am told, developed as a perfect vehicle for Hindu philosophy. And I am told it is a very poor vehicle for the Christian message. As a matter of fact, I have heard some Sanskrit scholars say that they don’t think Christianity could ever be preached in Sanskrit. I am no authority on this, but they may be right. It is interesting, for example, that both English and German were codified in their modern forms around the Christian message. The German language was made up of various dialectical forms when Luther translated the Bible. At that point, the German language was set down in a form which became standard. Luther’s German became the literary German. In England, the early translations of the Bible, summed up supremely in the King James Version, did the same thing for the English language. This meant that Christianity could be easily taught as long as the generally accepted meaning of the words were the Christian meaning of the words.

In Japan, on the other hand, it is very difficult to use the word guilt without a long explanation, because in Japan the word guilt grew up as a vehicle for the Japanese concept of ceremonial uncleanliness. Now if we have a word that means ceremonial uncleanliness as a vehicle and we try to explain true moral guilt in the presence of a holy, personal God, we have quite a task. We may have to use the word, but we must then refashion its definition and be certain that the people to whom we are speaking understand just how we are using the word. It must mean something different than it did in the symbol system out of which the word came.

There is the same dilemma in art styles and forms. Think, for example, of T. S. Eliot’s form of poetry in “The Waste Land.” The fragmented form matches the vision of fragmented man. But it is intriguing that after T. S. Eliot became a Christian — for example, in “The journey of the Magi” — he did not use quite this same form. Rather, he adapted it for the message he was now giving — a message with a Christian character. But he didn’t entirely give up the form; he didn’t go back to Tennyson. Rather, he adapted the form that he used in “The Waste Land,” changing it to fit the message that he was now giving. In other words, T. S. Eliot the Christian wrote somewhat differently than T. S. Eliot the “modern man.”

Therefore, while we must use twentieth-century styles, we must not use them in such a way as to be dominated by the world-views out of which they have arisen. Christianity is a message with its own distinctive propositional content, not a set of “religious” truths in an upper story. The whole man is to be addressed, and this includes his mind as well as his emotions and his aesthetic sensitivity.

Therefore, an art form or style that is no longer able to carry content cannot be used to give the Christian message. I am not saying that the style is in itself wrong, but that it has limitations. Totally fractured prose or poetry cannot be used to give the Christian message for the simple reason that it cannot carry intellectual content, and you can’t preach Christianity without content. The biblical message, the good news, is a good news of content.

It is here that feedback is important in regard to the style the artist chooses. Let us say, for example, that you are playing in a Christian rock group, making an art form of rock. Suppose further that at the same time you are going into certain coffeehouses and using rock as a bridge to preach the Christian message. That’s fine. But then you must be careful of the feedback. When you have finished playing, you must ask whether the people who have heard you play have understood what you have been saying. Have they heard your message clearly because you have used their modern idiom, or have they simply heard again what they have always heard when they have listened to rock because you used their form? Sometimes the content will get through, sometimes it will not. Not all situations will be the same; the immediate situation and what you are trying to do must be kept in mind.

The problem is just as prevalent in folk music as it is in rock. Joan Baez sang so beautifully, “You may call him Jesus, but I call him Savior.” But as far as Joan Baez and most of her listeners were concerned, when she said, “I call him Savior,” she was not calling him Savior in the way a Christian calls him Savior. She could have been singing southern folk or country and western or a Hindu lyric just as well. So when we come along and say, “My purpose is to sing folk so that I will be understood,” we must find a way to make it clear that we are singing folk to convey a world-view and not just to sing folk.

The form in which a world-view is given can either weaken or strengthen the content, even if the viewer or reader does not in every case analyze this completely. In other words, depending upon the vehicle you use, something can come across that an audience does not notice and yet will be moving either in the direction of your world-view or away from your world-view. And as a Christian adopts and adapts various contemporary techniques, he must wrestle with the whole question, looking to the Holy Spirit for help to know when to invent, when to adopt, when to adapt, and when to not use a specific style at all. This is something each artist wrestles with for a lifetime, not something he settles once and for all.

In conclusion, therefore, often we will use twentieth-century art forms, but we must be careful to keep them from distorting the world-view which is distinctively ours as Christians. In one way, styles are completely neutral. But in another way, they must not be used in an unthinking, naive way.

The Christian World-View
9. The Christian world-view can be divided into what I call a major and a minor theme. (The terms major and minor, as I am using them, have no relationship to their use in music.)

First, the minor theme is the abnormality of the revolting world. This falls into two parts: (1) Men who have revolted from God and not come back to Christ are eternally lost; they see their meaninglessness in the present, and in this they are right from their own standpoint. Nietzsche can say that God is dead and Sartre must follow along, showing that man is dead, and Sartre is right from his own perspective. (2) There is a defeated and sinful side to the Christian’s life. If we are at all honest, we must admit that in this life there is no such thing as totally victorious living. In every one of us there are those things which are sinful and deceiving; and while we may see substantial healing, in this life we do not come to perfection.

The major theme is the opposite of the minor; it is the meaningfulness and purposefulness of life. From the Christian viewpoint, this falls into two headings, metaphysics and morals. In the area of metaphysics (of being, of existence, including the existence of every man’, God is there, God exists. Therefore, all is not absurd. Furthermore, man is made in God’s image and so man has significance. With this comes the fact that love, not just sex, exists. True morals, as opposed to only conditioning, exist. And creativity, as opposed to mechanical construction, exists. So therefore the major theme is an optimism in the area of being; everything is not absurd, there is meaning. But most important, this optimism has a sufficient base. It isn’t suspended two feet off the ground, but rests on the existence of the infinite-personal God who exists and who has a character and who has created all things, especially man in His own image.

But there is also a major theme in relation to morals. Christianity gives a moral solution on the basis of the fact that God exists and has a character which is the law of the universe. There is therefore an absolute in regard to morals. It is not that there is a moral law back of God that binds both God and man, but that God Himself has a character and this character is reflected in the moral law of the universe. Thus when a person realizes his inadequacy before God and feels guilty, he has a basis not simply for the feeling but for the reality of guilt. Man’s dilemma is not just that he is finite and God is infinite, but that he is a sinner guilty before a holy God. But then he recognizes that God has given him a solution to this in the life, death and resurrection of Christ. Man is fallen and flawed, but he is redeemable on the basis of Christ’s work. This is beautiful. This is optimism. And this optimism has a sufficient base.

Notice that the Christian and his art have a place for the minor theme because man is lost and abnormal and the Christian has his own defeatedness. There is not only victory and song in my life. But the Christian and his art don’t end there. He goes on to the major theme because there is an optimistic answer. This is important for the kind of art Christians are to produce. First of all, Christian art needs to recognize the minor theme, the defeated aspect to even the Christian life. If our Christian art only emphasizes the major theme, then it is not fully Christian but simply romantic art. And let us say with sorrow that for years our Sunday school literature has been romantic in its art and has had very little to do with genuine Christian art. Older Christians may wonder what is wrong with this art and wonder why their kids are turned off by it, but the answer is simple. It’s romantic. It’s based on the notion that Christianity has only an optimistic note.