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.

Sleep, you are cold-blooded, merciless,
an executioner.
You softly slit my throat from ear to ear
into a smile across my neck,
and spill my warm blood onto Calvin or
The Classic Hundred Poems.
Sleep, you are persuasive and insinuating,
loosening my aching ribs.
The caffeine candle lighting up my skull
can only last so long before
it flickers down and
fizzles on the table.
You charm my drooping head
with dark advances,
soft, beguiling.
And at the last you sooth my eyeballs,
burning, frozen orbs.
Forgiving, gentle sleep.

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.”