There are situations where death can be a blessing, but only in the sense that God uses or allows evil to work a greater triumph. Like the death of a dear saint in the pain of old age, ready to go home. Like Aslan and his death at the hands of the White Witch, or Christ’s own death on the cross. Caleb said at one point that death is just taking us to be with Christ. That is true, but that’s not the way it was intended. We were to fellowship with God by truly natural means; it is death that is unnatural, the result of a curse. And yet, Christ has taken the curse upon himself, and triumphed over death. Dying with him, we are raised to new life.

But I also believe there is an appropriate sorrow at death — in the case of beloved saints, merely at the separation, but with unbelievers the separation is eternal. That is worth grieving about. While everyone who rejects Christ gets what they want, it’s still a terrible, sorrowful result of the Fall. To repeat myself in a comment on Caleb’s post, while we trust and submit to God’s sovereign plan, it is not wrong to sorrow or attempt to change things (through evangelism, etc.).

But we live in God’s story, and we must tune our sense of humor to match his. Caleb made his case well in a follow-up comment: Eglon’s death is pretty funny. Yes, we can laugh at a dead man. But we can also sorrow. “The Lord is … not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). And finally, we surely must not fear death. I close with a quote from the end of Pilgrim’s Progress:

“My Sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my Pilgrimage, and my Courage and Skill to him that can get it. My Marks and Scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me that I have fought his Battles who now will be my Rewarder.” When the day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the Riverside, into which as he went he said, “Death, where is thy Sting?” And as he went down deeper he said, “Grave, where is thy Victory?” So he passed over, and all the Trumpets sounded for him on the other side.

This and Nathaniel’s post on audience have got me thinking and somewhat re-working my approach. In fact, this is an attempt at a short to medium post that puts forth a thought for consideration. Now there is, of course, an appropriate way to strategize and target your audience. That’s what this post is about. But targeting your audience doesn’t mean broadening your appeal¹ so much as knowing your audience, like Nat said, and producing good content.

As should be apparent, this is really just a good business model — it applies to blogging almost informally. Companies like Apple, Inc. understand this.² Apple has a niche market and focuses on content that resonates within this group, to the extent that Jobs has what is termed a “cult following” [warning: link contains some language]. After all, Macs just work. Nevertheless, Apple is also a good example of a company that expanded its focus to great advantage (read: iPhone).

Conversely, Microsoft wants the whole market — go big or go home. Call it biting off more than you can chew, taking in too much territory, or whatever; but Microsoft tries to cover a broad range of user needs, hardware manufacturers and platforms, and comes up short on the quality front. Not content to focus on what it does best (using the term generously), Microsoft is constantly competing with Sony, Apple, Google, Gmail and Linux. And — whether it’s gaming consoles, hardware, media players, operating systems, communication services or search engines — you get a lineup of products doomed to eternal second place.

I could regale you with talk of BSODs, driver headaches and viruses, Windows ME and Vista, but the goal was merely to demonstrate what I mean by “the myth of relevance.” Just getting the most customers or the biggest audience is not an end unto itself. A streamlined, focused business model and quality control builds and retains a loyal consumer following. Spyderco is a good example. With only 30 employees and direct input from owner/founder Sal Glesser, there is a personal attention to quality and focus on customer relations that makes a Spyderco owner feel included, as it were. One wants the same sort of connection with a blog audience.

Finally, one more application: churches. There are, sadly, a lot of churches that would cut off their doctrinal arm to be “relevant.” They are the seeker-friendly, spiritual-milk, easy-believism variety. As Pastor Terry Tollefson is fond of saying, if the young people aren’t coming, break out the pizza, guitars, low lights and couches. Preach what people like to hear. Tickle ears. Unfortunately, they — just like the girl with mismatched shoes (one Converse and maybe a fur-trimmed boot is about right), striped leggings, outlandish hair and the “raccoon” style eyeliner — are pitching an indiscriminate appeal for attention. But attention is not an end to itself. You want the right kind of attention, the right kind of publicity. To quote Pastor Doug Wilson in a related vein, “Young Christian people should seek to become the kind of person that the kind of person they would want to marry would want to marry.”

Churches should want to attract people because of the strong preaching of law and condemnation in tension with grace and love, the unity, fellowship and accountability. The robust doctrine of Psalms and liturgy. The corporate-ness of Christ’s body. If someone is repelled by any of these things, that’s the way it should be — that’s the only hope for them. Diluting the truth until no one feels convicted is doing no one any favors. Taking the potency from worship and the doctrine from the songs is what, in other venues, would be called false advertising.

The church, properly functioning, shows people where they stand in relation to the body of Christ. When this is not done, people either discover spiritual meat at some point and have no taste for it, or settle into a warm, fuzzy, God-isn’t-about-guilt version of Christianity. (Just as long as I don’t have to do anything uncomfortable, like loving unlovable old people in nursing homes or confessing sins or letting grudges go.) On rare occasion, they realize they aren’t getting fed and look for a body to keep them accountable, words they can chew on — the Word himself.

So then, what I’ve called the “myth” of relevance is the notion that attracting attention, broadening appeal or increasing numbers is anything to aim for. At best, you will raise lukewarm interest in your lukewarm product. At worst, you will fill the Church with people who wouldn’t be there if they knew the way is narrow, and deter those who would only be there if they did. If I have spent time and digital ink on this last point, it’s because I’m serious. In any of these applications, there are some people to whom you don’t want to be relevant, and especially when it concerns the sanctification of Christ’s bride.

But, as always, that sanctification should flow out through all our endeavors, even our blogs. And yes, as a short to medium post, this is a fail. Oh well, semper reformanda and all that.

Is this what we want the world to think of our Christianity? Do we want people to see us as a cheesy, fuzzy, group of people “keeping it real with Jesus?” Should our music portray a sappy, over-baked “Jesus is my boyfriend” style or shouldn’t we rather portray what Christianity really is, the blood of Christ, the raging struggle of spirit against flesh, flesh against spirit, the persecution, the wrath of God, the (not sappy, not cheesy, but overpowering) love of Jesus when we were unlovable, wallowing in blood, sin and misery, the burden lifted from our shoulders by His sacrifice, the battle that He calls us to join, our victory against the power of Satan forever…now there’s something to sing about.

A lot of Christians would argue with me and say that using that kind of language doesn’t win people to Christ. If they hear about the bloody, gory, humiliating, overwhelming and rather harsh story of the Bible they will be repulsed. Therefore we should give them a mushy, half-hearted depiction of Jesus as a meek, Bambi-eyed, white-robed figure, trying to relate to people, begging them to just hold hands with Him, sway back and forth a little, throw a pine-cone in the fire, slip up their hand…? I think not.

People are desperate. People are miserable. People are wallowing in blood and tears waiting, searching for someone brave enough to make war on the misery of the world, someone strong enough to turn the world right side up, someone they can admire, love and fear. Someone awesome. They’re not ready to put the world in the hands of plastic, hippie-Jesus, but perhaps they would place the universe in the hands of the bloody but triumphant Son of God, one who has faced death and spat in it’s face, one who has crushed the head of sin and misery and sent it howling with it’s tail between it’s legs, one who is so beautiful, so holy, so awesome, so glorious we cannot look at Him without falling on our faces, one who loves us in our dirt and invites us in to eat at His table. This is what the world is looking for. Perhaps it’s time to start portraying our story in our music.  If we’re going to make “Christian” songs, let’s at least do it right.

I just wrote a paper on Christians and deception, so I’ve thought this over a bit recently. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with saying “Fine,” in response to “How’re you doing?” especially when asked by, say, the grocery store clerk. Most people don’t expect any more than a one-word courtesy answer. But as of late, when any of my friends or acquaintances asks me how I’m doing, I tend to respond more thoughtfully. It may be “I’m pretty tired and unproductive. Hopefully today will be better. How are you?” Or, depending on the person and their interest in encouraging and exhorting me, I might share my struggles and ask for prayer.

There are two basic truths here: speak appropriately to the situation, and be concerned for the welfare of others. In my paper, I came to the conclusion that (shocker) it comes down to heart motives. For example, some falsehoods actually convey a more important truth, as God’s deception of his enemies communicates His justice and truth. When you say that you’d love to have someone over for dinner even though you inwardly chafe at the inconvenience, it communicates that you value their company and wish to bless them; this is as it should be, and there is no need to let them know about your moment of ungodly selfishness. You know better, deal with it, and prepare dinner in the right spirit.

That was rather long-winded, but I’m tired. What I’m trying to say is that the radical honesty approach has its good applications, and its flaws as well. Sometimes we most certainly should not tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

As to the second point, let us return to the grocery store example. Or coffee shop. As I mentioned, I have been being more thoughtful in my communications with others, say, when in line for coffee at Bucer’s. (Bucer’s is a Moscow coffee shop, where I get lots of schoolwork done. Really, I do.) But sometimes they weren’t really looking for more than “I’m good,” and sometimes it’s just inconsiderate to dump your stress on someone else. The point is, in your openness and communication, be sure you are seeking to “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear” (Eph. 4:29).

Which brings us to what Nat said about finding out what’s happening with others. It can be difficult when they think you’re asking a trite question, but I’ve witnessed many examples of friends showing a sincere interest in the other’s welfare, and it really isn’t that hard to do. When you respond honestly and show an interest in others in your daily conversations, others notice and it benefits everyone. Encourage and sharpen one another (Prov. 27:17).

To wrap up: parents, messy lives, and God. As painful as it can be, I believe it is always best to talk to your parents and work things out. It makes your relationship stronger and enables growth as Christians. Parents are the first sphere of authority set in place by God, and they love you. And life is short. Don’t let relationships fall apart and erode. Don’t let the distance grow. Lives are messy, both ours and others’. Paul wrote as the “chief of sinners” to some new-Testament Christians with terribly messy lives, but God draws straight with crooked lines. Within covenant and communion, we have already overcome the wicked one. Sanctification is a process, but the battle is, in one sense, over.

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.” — 1 Peter 5:6-11

The narrative weaves erratically through reflections on philosophy, quantum physics, wasp villains, and Shakespeare in a stream-of-consciousness format. Interspersed throughout are meteorological observations, insights on everyday life, and stories from the kingdom Animalia. “Have you ever heard a rabbit scream?”

In the chapter titled “The Problem of Evil and the Nonexistence of Shakespeare,” Mr. Wilson deals with the sobering reality of evil. God is the great Artist, and there is black paint in the world. “How can this Artist be good?” The Christian apologetic is presented here in a rambling, poetic style influenced by C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton, and the result is truly a work of art. Notes From The Tilt-A-Whirl is different; it reads with a unique style that well captures the depth and vibrancy of creation, and being thought-provoking while at it. I highly recommend this book, and I think every Christian should read it.

Note (no pun intended) that Mr. Wilson employs a few words that some might find offensive. For some thoughts on Christians and what might be called “strong” language, check out these older blog posts here and here.

True to the title, Notes From The Tilt-A-Whirl takes the form of notes from life, expressing the wonder of God’s world. God’s spoken world. One theme that runs through the book like a thread (and there are many) is that of words. Everyone is given a part in God’s story.

“Our Maker waits. He would have a conversation. What words will we have? We need only one, the One who spoke us.”

The Horse’s hay beneath His head
our Lord was born to a manger bed,
that all whose wells run dry
could drink of His supply.

To keep Him warm the Sheep drew near,
so grateful for His coming here:
You come with news of grace,
come to take my place!

The Donkey whispered in His ear:
Child, in thirty-some-odd years,
You’ll ride someone who looks like me (untriumphantly).

While the Cardinals warbled a joyful song:
He’ll make right what man made wrong,
bringing low the hills,
that the valleys might be filled!

Then Child, asked the birds,
well, aren’t they lovely words we sing?
The tiny Baby lay there without saying anything.

At a distance stood a mangy Goat
with crooked teeth and a matted coat,
weary eyes and worn,
chipped & twisted horns.
Thinking: Maybe I’ll make friends some day
with the Cows in the pens and the Rambouillet,
but for now I’ll keep away -
I got nothin’ smart to say.

But there’s a sign on the barn in the Cabbagetown:
When the rain picks up and the sun goes down,
Sinner, Come Inside! With No Money, Come and Buy!
No clever talk nor gift to bring
requires our lowly, lovely king,
come, all emptyhanded, you don’t need anything!

And the night was cool and clear as glass
with the sneaking Snake in the garden grass,
as Deep cried out to Deep, the Disciples fast asleep.

And the snake perked up when he heard You ask:
if You’re willing that this cup might pass
we could find our way back home,
maybe start a family all our own…
but does not the Father guide the Son?
Not my will but Yours be done!
What else here to do?
What else me but You???

And the snake who’d held the world,
a stick, a carrot and a string, was crushed
beneath the Foot of Your not wanting anything.

YouTube link.

January 1979, saw a terrible crash
And I couldn’t help but laugh
My ear pressed against the past
Like a glass on a wall of a hospital photograph
My forehead no longer sweet
With holy kisses worthy of your fiery lips
I was floating in a peaceful sea
Rescued by a sinking ship

From what I’ve read on the internet, and it makes sense to me, Aaron Weiss is referring to his own birth (former member Daniel Pishock was born the same month, too). He calls it a terrible crash because he, a sinful being from birth, as we all are, entered the world. I’m not all sure about the middle bits, but the last two lines, from what I’ve read, refer to his seeming innocence before birth and then his pick up by a ship; a seeming rescue, but one from a sinking ship, that is, our nature of sin in a sinful world. I think the whole song does have more on this theme of life, like the line “My life is a cup of sugar I’ve borrowed before time began and forgot to return.” (And to diverge slightly, I must say I’ve found SongMeanings helpful for understanding mewithoutYou. I have thought of some insights on my own, but mewithoutYou has very profound and pithy lyrics, and outside sources are helpful to me in understanding them.)

So anyway, I wanted to draw that parallel between the terrible crash of sinful birth and the great joyous boom of sinless birth. Two types of noises. Lots of the first, one of the second, but for us the second should far outshine the first, since Christ’s death atoned for all of us, while each of our births might bring some joy of life, but do not ultimately save anyone and are really futile in comparison. We might have our terrible little crashes but they are nothing in the face of Christ’s perfect virgin human birth.

Is that so bad? Maybe. It’s just that I catch myself starting to write these great posts in my head and feel guilty because it’s not spur of the moment authentic. But then, of course, planned writing isn’t bad. It’s good¹. And spontaneous writing can be good, too.

One of the bad things about this blog planning, though, is that I imagine myself writing these great posts and realize that they’re not always true, or I’m just trying to sound smart, or I want comment kudos. Being smart and getting comments isn’t at all bad – I’m just greedy and that’s bad.

What I really want is an honest, open style that doesn’t come across as terrible for being truthful and humble. Goodness, it’s human nature to try to seem more than we are, even to ourselves. Truth of the matter is, I’m not a great (as in epic, famous) writer. Please don’t let me take that to either extreme: I don’t want to be prideful about being humble and I don’t want to be prideful.

I remember when I wrote a terrible review of Paul Comon’s book on composition in photography – it sucked because I was trying to sound good and it came across as canned, tacky and cheesy. I rewrote it a little more honestly and I think it came out much better. I’m not a professional literature critic; why should I try?

And on that note, I’ve been thinking a little bit in this vein about art. Bad art does try to come across as high and mighty and make its author important and ends up being unintelligible and just dumb. Good art works hard and makes a beautiful thing with true depth. As critics of art, even amateur ones, I wonder if we sometimes try to read into art more meaning and depth than is there – obfuscate the matter with big words and complex ideas and try to sounds smart – maybe it’s bad art, maybe it’s good art that’s just not that deep; I think it could go either way.

Afterword: I’ve taken to kind of stream-of-consciousnessing in my Moleskine and am tempted to post some of these ramblings. They are somewhat spur of the moment (and riddled with crazy grammar because of it) but I’m trying to be honest with what I’m thinking and explore life and God’s world. Alright, take a deep breath, and then remember I’m probably not as sincere as I just sounded. Narcissism (def. 1), remember?