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Honesty is Not the Best Policy?

honestyI started listening to Lorde recently.  She is a sixteen-year-old musician from New Zealand who just released her first album in September.  If you have not heard of her I am sure you have at least heard her hit song, “Royals”.  She has a haunting voice and the hook is super catchy without becoming annoying.  I like to listen to it when I run.  It was the only song of hers that I had heard so far, though, so I decided to learn more about her.  I stumbled across an interview in which she called out Selena Gomez, saying “I love pop music on a sonic level, but I’m a feminist and the theme of her song [“Come & Get It”] is, ‘When you’re ready, come and get it from me.’ I’m sick of women being portrayed this way.”  When I first read this, I was on board.  Without making a comment about the singer herself, I have long found the lyrics to “Come & Get It” to be damaging; “You ain’t gotta worry, it’s an open invitation.  I’ll be sittin’ right here, real patient.  All day, all night, I’ll be waitin’ standby.”  This passive voice paves the way for responses like Robin Thicke’s horrendously rape-y “Blurred Lines” (a song that has been banned at five universities so far), which asserts that women are too coy to express their desire for sex, so men should go ahead and take it from them.  Lorde was offended, and so was I.

Then, however, Lorde also mentioned Lana Del Rey, saying  “She’s great, but … it’s so unhealthy for young girls to be listening to, you know: ‘I’m nothing without you’. This sort of shirt-tugging, desperate, don’t leave me stuff. That’s not a good thing for young girls, even young people, to hear.”  I was a bit taken aback.  While I like to think I agree with Lorde on an intellectual level, personally, I have always strongly related to Lana’s lyrics, so much so that I would never think to criticize her message.  To me, her lyrics seem much more specific and thought-out as opposed to Selena’s general “come and get it” call to the world.  After all, on an individual level, people really do feel intense longing and desperation.  Are artists like Lana Del Rey supposed to sacrifice their candor and sincerity for the sake of idealism?  Is it not just as important to be honest about your emotions as it is to be a good role model?

Oscar Wilde wrote, “Life imitates art far more than art imitates life,” and I am not entirely sure I agree with him.  To me, it seems more like a cycle.  Artists pick up on barely realized themes within culture, or invent idealized ones, society notices trends within art and embraces them, artists perpetuate the trends, society perpetuates the trends, and the cycle begins again.  Perhaps I relate so strongly to Lana’s lyrics because I have grown up listening to these common themes in pop music my whole life, and the mentality has become ingrained in me.  What would it look like if musicians began addressing issues of love and sex in a much healthier way?  Several years down the road, would we relate just as strongly to those lyrics, having been slowly changing our viewpoints and our actions over time until we were all engaged in relatively healthier relationships?

Where is the line between being honest and being a good example—and how can we find a foothold in the relentless life-imitates-art, art-imitates-life cycle?  After all, Lorde was right—these commonplace “I need  a man” pop lyrics preserve negative gender stereotypes and continually affect the way young men and women see each other.  But Lorde also qualified her opinion by adding, “People got the impression I thought writing about love was shameful. I don’t! I just haven’t found a way of doing it which is powerful and innovative.”  I don’t think we need to throw out emotional honesty and vulnerability altogether.  I think we can be honest about that fact that our dependence on romantic relationships is unhealthy.  I think we can be honest about the fact that we need to find more constructive ways to communicate our desires and our boundaries.  We can celebrate our independence without denying our occasional loneliness.  Pop music has an incredible influence, and that does not have to be a bad thing.

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Twinkies Over the Bread of Life

Too often, what the church communicates to the world is a weak faith. Within our contemporary Christian culture, I see a belief in a weak gospel. This lack of confidence demonstrates itself in the insecurity with which we attempt to make our faith relevant to the world. We dress it in popular culture, hoping that the candy coating will allure people into swallowing the antidote of the gospel.

Courtesy of dealbreaker.com
Courtesy of dealbreaker.com

Consider youth groups, conferences, Sunday school curricula—what are the attractions? The Word of God? The power of the cross? Or is it games, prizes, and music? None of these things is inherently problematic, but I think it worthwhile to ask whether, underneath the fluff, we have lost the substance. And perhaps more disconcerting: do our endeavors to gift-wrap the gospel reveal a doubt in the value of the gift itself? As soon as the church enters the business of trying to sell the gospel, the inherent value of the good news is obscured behind the flashy veneer of popular culture. If it is powerful, then why do we feel the need to dress it in Batman’s utility belt? If it is beautiful, then why do we doll it up? If it is relevant, then why do we try to fabricate relevance through pop culture references?

If we continue to use thin threads to tie Christ’s message to our world, the sad result will be a disregard for the all-sufficient bride of Christ. When we neglect the riches of our inheritance in Christ, all we have left to give are trinkets. What do we communicate when the primary selling point of our Christian community is mere accommodation of secular culture? We communicate that we have nothing more. We suggest that the bread of life leaves us craving Twinkies. Why should that attract anyone? The world doesn’t need the rhetoric of the day wrapped in WWJD paraphernalia. It needs Christ.

We face a world aching with injustice. What hope do we bring to citizens of war-torn countries suffering from PTSD? Do we believe that Christ might have something to say to them? Do we have enough confidence in Christ’s message of forgiveness to see its role in empowering ethnic and racial reconciliation?

Why do we rely more heavily on human strategies than on the strength of the gospel itself? The effort to meet spiritual needs is considered invasive and ethnocentric – an imposition of our religious preferences; meanwhile, responses to physical and emotional needs are applauded. Why, if the gospel is relevant, powerful, and life-giving, do we hesitate to share it?

What we, as the church, believe about the gospel, we profess is critical. It determines what we communicate to the world about this gospel and, in turn, how the world perceives our biblical truth-claims. So what is the gospel? Is it relevant?  Is it hope-inspiring?  Is it powerful?  Is it a message worth sharing?