This post was written by Randy Newman on March 18, 2009
This will be the last in my series of written reflections about music, prompted by Jeremy Begbie’s excellent book, Resounding Truth. If these short reflections have whet your appetite, I do hope you’ll read his book and enjoy music with a deeper appreciation than you have before. Better still, I hope music will have its sanctifying powerful effect on your walk with the Lord.
For this brief space, I want to address Begbie’s intriguing notion of hearing in a “Trinitarian space.”
This may be difficult to grasp at first. Consider that we can hear more than one note at a time. Sometimes we play two notes on a piano and hear them equally. Often, it’s a chord of three notes we hear. Most of the time when we listen to orchestral or ensemble music, we hear many notes at once.
The point is, this is different from the way we see things. If I place a coffee cup in front of you and ask you to look at it, you can see only one item in the exact space the cup occupies. (I do realize you’ll see things in the background and foreground, etc. but these items are seen in a different space than the cup). Also, you see the cup in only one place at a time. You do not see it both here and there.
You see one and only one cup in one and only one space.
Hearing is different. We can hear more than one note at a time and they are not in competition with each other. In a C-major chord, I hear the note C and it fills up all of my “hearing space.” I also hear the note E and it does the same. Hearing the E and the G of the chord does not diminish or negate the C, etc.
The point is, we “know” things in a variety of ways - not just visually. There is a kind of “auditory knowing.” (These are my attempts to explain Begbie’s points. He does not use all the terms I’m employing).
“Visual knowing” has created problems for people in understanding “invisible” truths - things like aesthetics or philosophy or theology. Our training to only “see” one thing at a time makes it difficult for us to intellectually unravel such tensions as divine sovereignty and human responsibility or the nature of the Trinity.
Western, “visual-knowing” thinking has a huge (perhaps insurmountable) hurdle in grasping how God can be Father, Son and Holy Spirit all at the same time.
“Auditory-knowing” doesn’t have the same level of difficulty. It is trained to handle more things at once.
Please hear me carefully - this is not relativism. I am not promoting irrational belief or contradictory truths. If what I am saying can be understood to be irrational or contradictory, then so can the notion of the Trinity (as some of our critics have insisted).
Instead, I am promoting a way of thinking that allows for different categories than we are used to - but not in ways that contradict the Scriptures.
Here’s how Begbie puts it:
…music can serve to embody the kind of Trinitarian space in which we are invited to share. It is likely that readers will have jumped ahead already to the Trinity. What could be more apt than to speak of the Trinity as a three-note chord, a resonance of life; Father, Son, and Sprit mutually indwelling, without mutual exclusion, and yet without merger, each occupying the same space, “sounding through” one another, yet irreducibly distinct, reciprocally enhancing, and establishing one another as other?
It would certainly be worthwhile to read him in context - with frequent pauses to take in some Mozart or Brahms or Bernstein.
In a day when we’re pressed for foolishly reductionist understandings of complex theological issues, I find Begbie’s insights refreshing, challenging, fitting, and sanctifying. I hope you will too.
This post was written by Randy Newman on March 12, 2009
There are a number of ways that music transforms us. It does not merely entertain. Or, at least, music should do more than that.
In my last post, I wrote about Jeremy Begbie’s book, Resounding Truth: Christian Wisdom in the World of Music. I mentioned that one way music helps us grow is through the frequent use of a “home-away-home” pattern (thereby deepening our appreciation for things and promoting gratitude). A second way was through variations upon a theme. This helps us think more meditatively and deeply.
Here is one more lesson I learned from that helpful book.
In a similar way to the “home-away-home” pattern, music often employs a “tension-and-release” pattern. Western music does this differently than other cultures’ music but most do seem to create some kind of unresolved tension and then release it.
You may have heard the apocryphal story of Mozart (or perhaps it was Beethoven or Bach or any number of composers) who was up in bed and heard someone play an unresolved dominant chord on a piano…all as a ploy to get the composer up and about. Sure enough, the composer got out of bed, came downstairs, played the tonic chord resolution on the piano and then returned to bed.
Some composers are more masterful than others in delaying the resolution for several measures, minutes, or in the most extreme cases, entire movements, before allowing the tension to resolve. (Some modern composers never resolve the tension, perhaps implying that our world is chaotic and meaningless and therefore the art should reflect the reality. I’ll save that for others to discuss).
The point for our discussion of “sanctification through music” is that the experience of delayed gratification in music can have benefits for our soul - two in particular. First, this training to delay the release can build perseverance into our lives. Second, the increasing of longing for release may help us keep our spiritual focus on heaven, instead of settling in to our temporal home here on earth. I think this is worth pondering.
This post was written by Randy Newman on February 27, 2009
I write a lot about “integration.” I try to say that we need to see the wholeness of life, the places where faith and thoughtfulness intertwine.
Pointing to examples of written works that model this is difficult. There aren’t enough displays of deep reflection about how the Christian frame of reference shines light on other topics.
When I find such examples, I want to point you to them. Jeremy Begbie’s recent book, Resounding Truth: Christian Wisdom in the World of Music, is a beautiful example of thoughtful integrative thinking.
This is not a book about so-called “Christian music,” or about using music in worship services, or about what kinds of music are worth listening to. Such topics, Begbie freely admits, are worthwhile. They are just not the subject of his research and writing.
Instead, he examines music in the most general sense and asks what it does, why it moves us, how it transforms us, and how we can better employ it in our sanctification.
For this blog, I’ll just offer a few examples from his many challenging insights.
First, good music has the effect of taking us away from home and bringing us back again. Many pieces of music (both classical and popular) state a home theme, then take us away from that theme through variations and contrasts, and finally return us back to the home theme. The noteworthy observation is that, when we return home, even though the notes, and in some cases the words, are the same, our appreciation of home is different. It’s as if we’re hearing things that certainly were there the first time but we didn’t notice them or appreciate them. Many hours of listening to music that does this can actually improve our appreciation of our current “home.” In other words, it can foster a sense of gratitude or help us savor God’s gifts.
Second, good music is composed of variations upon a theme. A good composer states a simple theme near the beginning of a piece (think of those first four notes of Beethoven’s fifth symphony) and then weaves variations of that theme throughout the song or symphony or concerto. The more you train your ear to listen for these motifs, the more your mind will be able to do the same with thoughts or ideas. In other words, music can actually train us to be more meditative and contemplative.
No wonder we’re commanded to sing so often in Scripture. It’s not just to have a fun experience. God’s gift of music isn’t just for entertainment - it’s for discipleship. Music transforms us.
There’s more…but I’ll save those discussions for future blogs.
Want a suggestion for hearing a masterful display of theme and variations? Find a recording of Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme by Paganini. Listen to all of them! You’ll never be the same.
This post was written by Randy Newman on February 11, 2009
A recent book entitled I Once Was Lost may offer some helpful insight about evangelism in our day and age. Written by two InterVarsity staff members, this work reflects the fruit of years of outreach to an ever-changing audience. The basis for their suggestions for fruitful evangelism flows out of interviews with postmodern college students who actually did become Christians in the past few years. They say they interviewed “thousands” of new Christians. Even if that’s an exaggeration, their reporting of their findings is very insightful.
Specifically, they were able to detect a five-fold process that most of these people experienced. Despite variety in locations, cultures, and climates, new Christians said they progressed from “lost” to “found” through these five stages.
I’ll simply list the stages and then make my comments as I think they relate to the world of academia and other places where thoughtful disciples reach out:
From distrust to trust.
From complacent to curious.
From being closed to change to being open to change.
From meandering to seeking.
The final stage of crossing the threshold of the kingdom itself.
I think these stages are self-explanatory but I will try to expand a bit. Non-Christians, generally speaking, have a negative image of Christians. (If your heart can take it, you might read David Kinnaman’s and Gabe Lyons’ UnChristian to see just how poorly they think of us). Consequently, they do not trust us to be good spokespersons or incarnations of the Christian faith. This is often more image than substance, although sometimes tragic hypocrisy has tarnished the gospel in profound ways.
For the majority of people, this distrust might not be as difficult to overcome as we may assume. Sincerity, authenticity, friendship, and dialogue seem to be the common ingredients in testimonies of those who progressed through all five stages. Once the first barrier of distrust is crossed, the other stages flow with less resistance.
Here are some applications for students, faculty, and others called to arenas where thought and intellect are prominent:
**Primarily we build trust with interpersonal skills. But intellectual skills are not irrelevant. Thoughtful non-Christians don’t trust anti-intellectual or thoughtless Christians because, for them, a faith that fails to engage the mind isn’t worth believing.
**Curiosity may be stimulated in a variety of ways. Reflecting on (and speaking about) how our faith informs our values, ethics, and morality as well as our opinions about academic issues, may spark the kinds of conversations that lead people to the Savior.
**In many cases, conversion takes time - more time than it did decades ago.
**There are ways (there MUST be!) to offer challenging statements that propel people from being closed to change to being open to change or from meandering to seeking without being rude. A strong statement like, “It sounds like you’re considering some changes that might be scary or uncomfortable” does not need to be insulting, like, “C’mon. What’s holding you back. Don’t you realize your eternal destiny is on the line?”
**We need clear, precise communication when explaining what it means to become a follower of Jesus. Vague clichés abound (e.g. “asking Jesus into your heart,” “praying to receive Christ,” “crossing the line of faith,” etc.) We need deeper theological reflection about and clearer relevant articulation of the conversion step if we’re going to see lasting fruit. I hope to share more about this in future notes.
Does it help to think of non-Christians friends, coworkers, and relatives as people who probably don’t trust us and most certainly don’t understand us? I think it does. If those are our starting assumptions, what are our next steps in reaching out?
This post was written by Randy Newman on February 1, 2009
Recently, I mentioned John Piper’s book, The Pleasures of God. The final chapter, The Pleasure of God in Concealing Himself from the Wise and Revealing Himself to Infants, has some pertinent things to say about thinking, the life of the mind, intelligence, and related topics for thoughtful Christians to consider.
I don’t think I need to place this chapter in the larger context of our current evangelical climate. Suffice it to say that Christians vary in their levels of valuing the intellect. Part of the problem flows from a selective reading of the Scriptures. Part comes from recent history.
Piper addresses the issue well and allows the complexity of the problem to shape his depth of response. He recognizes that the Scriptures do not “uniformly portray mental productivity as praiseworthy.” Sometimes “knowledge puffs up” (1 Cor. 8:1). God often condemns the “wise of this world.” (Consider Jer. 9:23, James 3:15, or I Tim. 6:20). On the other hand, Scripture praises wisdom and exhorts us all to pursue it more than jewels. (See Proverbs 8 and many other places).
Piper raises many important questions, examining recent history (quoting Richard Hofstadter’s Anti-Intellectualism in America), and lands on “the crucial question,” “How does the Word of God portray the life of the mind?” I won’t recreate his argument here. It deserves a thorough reading and much reflection. I do believe he is exactly right to see that being an “infant,” for both Jesus and Paul, is “not always viewed as praiseworthy.”
He wrestles with the tensions long enough to draw what I believe is an important distinction. “A fundamental difference between divine wisdom and human wisdom is that God’s wisdom exalts what the cross stands for, and human wisdom is offended by what the cross stands for. God’s wisdom has the supremacy of God’s glory as the beginning, middle, and end of it, but man’s wisdom delights in seeing himself as resourceful, self-sufficient, self-determining, and not utterly dependant on God’s free grace.”
If this is correct, then study, research, contemplation, the life of the mind, and other academic endeavors are not to be shunned or ridiculed, but pursued as appropriate responses to a God who reveals himself not only in Scripture, but also in general revelation of nature, other people, art, beauty, and the like.
He concludes, “If the gospel is to be preserved for the good of Christ’s church, and God is to be known for who he truly is, we will need to cultivate the life of the mind that prizes and reserves this kind of rigorous study.”
This chapter may be encouraging to you as you seek to love God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind. I hope you’ll seek it out.
This post was written by Randy Newman on January 12, 2009
Previously I suggested certain authors to read to prompt intelligent engagement regarding the Christian life. Recently I pointed to C.S. Lewis and Jonathan Edwards. Today I want to recommend the writings of John Piper.
You probably already know some of the strengths of Dr. Piper, pastor at Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He is intense, scholarly, devotional, and rich. All of his books, without apology, have the same thesis - his life’s message - ”God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.”
In the past, I have appreciated Piper’s books - but only to a certain point. I found that reading any of his books (without exception!) resulted in the following experience:
First, I would struggle to grasp his main point. Second, once I understood it, I would appreciate it and then marvel that I had not heard this point before. Third, I would start to apply the lens of his insight to areas of my life. Finally, I would tire of his point. I found that by the time I finished one-third of the book, I no longer needed to have the point repeated.
So I found the first one-third of his books to be beneficial but the rest to be tedious to read. Apparently, I’m not alone because I’ve heard that same insight from others.
But someone recommended his book, The Pleasures of God, and told me I would not find it repetitious. Many have said it’s his best work. Now that I’ve read it, I would agree. The book flows and holds together but does not bog down into simply restating the same point with different words. It consistently challenges the reader to think more comprehensively, apply more rigorously, and meditate more deeply.
The subtitle of the book is Meditations on God’s Delight in Being God. Piper first entertains the notion that God is not egotistical to delight in himself. Then he considers what that would entail in God’s delight in His Son, in all He does, in His creation, in His fame, etc.
In ways that should encourage a scholar’s heart, Piper applies the discipline of thorough thought to these kinds of themes, explores the Scriptures to support them, and then applies them to various areas of life - areas that do not get addressed often enough (or ever!) in many contemporary, self-glorifying Christian books.
The final chapter, “The Pleasure of God in Concealing Himself from the Wise and Revealing Himself to Infants,” is especially challenging. In the course of his discussion, he explores the whole issue of the life of the mind. Special consideration is given to the pressure towards anti-intellectualism that has plagued the church for many years, especially in the past century. I’ll share more thoughts about that chapter in a future post.
In a day when many minor issues are receiving major emphasis and God-glorifying themes get subsumed (or eclipsed) by self-glorifying themes, I am very thankful for the ministry and writing of John Piper. I hope you’ll consider reading The Pleasures of God.
This post was written by Randy Newman on December 2, 2008
Last week, November 29th, was C.S. Lewis’ birthday. I hope this news brings you as much joy as it does to me.
Lewis continues to inspire me through his writing and motivates me to encourage those who love the life of the mind.
Here are three observations I have about my own experiences of reading Lewis. I hope you’ll want to join me in the lifelong goal of reading everything the man wrote.
First, to read C.S. Lewis is to experience verbal delight. He writes so well that one engages both with the content conveyed and the words employed. I can’t help but smile at sentences which are crafted by such a skilled artisan.
Consider this line from the introduction of The Screwtape Letters. After stating that we could make two mistakes regarding demons - one to disbelieve and the other to show too much interest - he adds, “They themselves are equally pleased by both errors and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight.”
He grieved over our culture’s declining use of language and saw it as far more serious than stylistic evolution. In “The Death of Words” he demonstrated how certain words stopped meaning what they originally meant and eventually ended up meaning nothing at all. The word “gentleman” once meant someone who owned land. Later it took on a qualitative sense of someone who was polite. Eventually it simply meant someone who wasn’t a woman. The problem is that we already have a word for “man.” “Gentleman” no longer means anything different from someone of the masculine gender.
The case is far more serious with the word “Christian.” That word once had a precise theologically restricted use. Later it came to mean something like “nice.” Now it means nothing. Lewis presses the point to establish the reason this should bother us so much: “Men do not long continue to think what they have forgotten how to say” he warned. His words have proven prophetic.
Second, to read Lewis is to be constantly reminded that we are meant for another world. He used to love to talk of “joy” or “longing” or “Sehnsucht.” It may have been his most frequently expressed theme. He defined it as “an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction.” In perhaps his fullest treatment of the idea, the essay “The Weight of Glory,” he says:
Apparently, then, our lifelong nostalgia, our longing to be reunited with something in the universe from which we now feel cut off, to be on the inside of some door which we have always seen from the outside, is no mere neurotic fancy, but the truest index of our real situation. And to be at last summoned inside would be both glory and honour beyond all our merits and also the healing of that old ache.
Finally, to read Lewis is to be pointed to the cross and to feel a sense of awe at the goodness of God displayed at Calvary. We spend so much energy defending our faith - arguing, proving, reasoning, declaring - that it is true, that we sometimes lose sight of the fact that it is also good. I sometimes find myself saying, “Oh, yes. That’s right. The gospel is so very good!” when reading Lewis. He turns many internal dialogues from reason to appreciation, from agreement to adoration.
In one of his “Letters to Malcolm,” he wrote, “Gratitude exclaims, very properly, “How good of God to give me this.” Adoration says, “What must be the quality of that Being whose far-off and momentary coruscations are like this!” One’s mind runs back up the sunbeam to the sun.”
(Did you stumble on the word “coruscations?” It means “a flash of light.” He could have said it more simply. But, perhaps, he wanted to rescue a word from the brink of death…or maybe he wanted to add some delight to his readers’ experience! For whatever reason, the quote makes me smile and praise our God.)
I hope you’ll find some time to celebrate this day. Pick a short essay of Lewis’ and read it. See if you don’t smile along the way.
This post was written by Randy Newman on November 17, 2008
Several years ago I wrote that C.S. Lewis might be considered the “patron saint” for the Christian academic.
Lewis embodied that elusive combination of a keen intellect and a softened heart. He loved the Lord and he valued the mind. For him, there exists no conflict, tension, or disjuncture between the intellectual sphere and the emotional one.
Today I want to talk of someone else who serves as a valuable role model for us in this same way: Jonathan Edwards.
As the key figure in the Great Awakening that began in 1734, Edwards was the pastor of the Congregational church in Northampton, Massachusetts and a leading intellect of his day. Again, those two descriptions were not considered to be antithetical.
It is not my intention to present a whole biography of Edwards here. I simply want to encourage you to get to know him. Here are a few suggestions to help:
1. Begin by reading some of Edwards sermons. He is most accessible here. Because of language changes and the depth of his thought, reading Jonathan Edwards is difficult. But the sermons are far easier than his treatises.
2. Don’t begin with “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.” While this is an excellent sermon, and one that is far different than the lampooned interpretations usually offered in high school social studies classes, I’d suggest you begin with “A Divine and Supernatural Light” or “Praise, One of the Chief Employments of Heaven” or “God Glorified in Man’s Dependence.”
3. Here’s an important emphasis of Edwards you must not miss: Loving and following God must engage both the mind and the “affections.” At Edwards’ time, he was responding to the Enlightenment’s over-emphasis on reason and intellect. In our day, Edwards serves as a helpful corrective against an over-emphasis on emotions and an irrational approach to spirituality. To the modernist and the postmodernist, Edwards’ writings imply “A plague on both your houses!”
Consider this section from “A Divine and Supernatural Light:”
He that is spiritually enlightened truly apprehends and sees it [God’s
glory], or has a sense of it. He does not merely rationally believe that God
is glorious but he has a sense of the gloriousness of God in his heart.
There is not only a rational belief that God is holy, and that holiness is a
good thing, but there is a sense of the loveliness of God’s holiness. There
is not only a speculatively judging that God is gracious, but a sense how
amiable God is upon that account, or a sense of the beauty of this divine
attribute.
May we today embrace, pursue, and enjoy our God with all our being and may we love him with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind.
This post was written by Randy Newman on November 3, 2008
A friend recently introduced me to the poetry of Billy Collins. Do you know his work? Collins was Poet Laureate of the United States from 2001 to 2003. He has also served as a professor of English at Lehman College of the City University of New York. In a world where poetry seems to be slipping into obscurity (for many people, that is), Billy Collins’ poems offer hope for a renaissance of this beautiful art form. His poems are accessible even for those with little or no experience with verse.
Now, before you hit the “back” button on your browser or click on another webpage, please consider that poetry may serve even the non-poetical among us. All academicians employ words as the basic tools of their trade. We can learn much from poets who pay attention to the sound, feel, and taste of every syllable.
In particular, Collins’ poems are filled with similes and comparisons that bring old experiences or concepts or thoughts into new light. Making apt comparisons has always been a great didactic device. Collins is a master at it. He also reflects regularly on the discipline and craft of writing poetry, which I find helps me think more clearly about the work God calls me to do on a daily basis.
Consider:
The birds are in their trees,
the toast is in the toaster,
and the poets are at their windows.
They are at their windows
in every section of the tangerine of earth-
(from Monday)
or again:
the trouble with poetry is
that it encourages the writing of more poetry,
more guppies crowding the fish tank,
more baby rabbits
hopping out of their mothers into the dewy grass.
And how will it ever end?
unless the day finally arrives
when we have compared everything in the world
to everything else in the world.
(from The Trouble with Poetry)
You can read that entire poem here.
We’re constantly bombarded with words—overwhelmingly so. After a while it feels like we’re force-fed at an endless buffet of bland food. Taking a few moments to savor some poetry offers a gourmet alternative. When I’m taking in a steady diet of poetry, I choose the words I say more carefully. I listen to others’ words more intently. And I enjoy both sides of the dialogue more fully. For Christians who want to “love our neighbors,” a more carefully inclined ear and a more attentive demeanor can help us with that lifelong ministry.
In his very helpful book, Lincoln’s Melancholy: How Depression Challenged a President and Fueled His Greatness, author Joshua Wolf Shenk tells us that Lincoln read, memorized, and recited poetry as an antidote to his dark moods. I know several academicians who could benefit from that same prescription.
Billy Collins may prove helpful to you in this way. Or he may help you use words to greater effect. Or he may just offer you a nice break from that
barrage of words you’re needing to plow through.
This post was written by Randy Newman on October 21, 2008
In my last blog entry, I asked, “Is there an integrating force that joins evangelism and cultural influence?” I started to build my case for an answer in the affirmative. I’ll try to add to that here.
I’ll begin with an illustrative event. In the 1960’s Columbia Bible College in South Carolina faced a difficult tension. Their school had long been segregated, in part because the state of South Carolina required it to do so. While the consciences of some (but not all!) of their administration opposed racism and segregation, the legal issues were complex and difficult to overcome.
Their rationale is instructive. In addition to arguments about submission to authority, a larger explanation came from their views about the role of the church in society. Should Christians engage in politics or merely “preach the gospel?” CBC’s main calling, they maintained, was to prepare missionaries to bring the gospel to all the nations.
But what about black applicants who wanted to spread the gospel? What if they wanted the training CBC could provide? An insightful article that examines the historical and theological considerations of CBC’s administration can be found in Robert Priest’s chapter, “Sharing the Gospel in a Racially Segregated South” in his book, This Side of Heaven (2006, Oxford University Press).
Amidst cultural changes in the wider society and from some pressure from alumni, CBC did make radical changes to integrate. It is unclear to me whether they addressed the philosophical/theological issues behind the legal, social, and practical ones. Should Christians engage in political or social issues or just “preach the gospel?”
Again, I point the question toward the world of academia. Should Christian professors get involved in social issues on campus or just pursue excellence in teaching and evangelize when the opportunities arise?
One example may help focus my question. Recently a traveling “art show” came to a number of university campuses in the state of Virginia. It was
sponsored by a coalition of “sex workers.” These included strippers, prostitutes, and pornographers. The show claimed to have as its goal to raise awareness of and lift up the public opinion of a legitimate art form.
One university’s alumni called for, and ultimately received, the resignation of its president, due in part to his decision to allow the show on campus. Several other universities hosted the event with little or no objection from anyone (Christians, feminists, or law students. Prostitution is still illegal in the state of Virginia).
There are many other examples. In fact, I believe the cultural atmosphere on most campuses may be more influential in forming of students’ lifelong worldviews than the courses taught in classrooms.
Should Christians have worked against segregation at Columbia Bible College? I believe the answer is yes. Should Christians have objected to sex workers performing on state university campuses? I believe the answer is yes. Should Christians engage in efforts to promote social justice? I believe the answer is yes.
And I believe the answer flows from the same integrating principle. We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves. That love surely includes sharing the gospel. In fact, to do many other things to help our neighbors but to not share the gospel with them may be the most unloving thing possible.
But to not address issues of injustice, abuse, hatred, immorality, and other forces that surely will do harm to people, is also unloving. Christians must find their voices. Someday students of history will look at our day and age and marvel at our silence just as we marvel at the silence about segregation in the 1960s.
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