Into the Fire

It remains a mystery to me how definitive some people can be about expressing their thoughts on writing. When you approach something like fiction with an absolutist approach, I confess the urge to slap something. No matter how you dress it up or dress it down or speculate on methods, techniques, styles, voices, conflicts, plots, and characters, the end result yields this: someone will like the writing and someone will hate it. Most will probably figure somewhere in between.

Subjective is a word which drives “artist” seekers crazy. Somehow to them it implies a mediocrity being assessed without understanding of quality. I think they underestimate the assessments of the common man. There will always be those who embrace gaudy and those who linger over austere. From plastic pink flamingos to guarded possessions of Rembrandt, the beauty clearly resides in the opinion of the owner. Poor taste or elite appetites for a unique beauty–why should anyone care what our preferences are?

The value isn’t found in the object of admiration but in the heart of both the creator and observer. Many pieces of literature and artistry will not pass through the refiner’s fire. The talent/gift was not done in honor of or in obedience to the King of Kings. No matter how much earthly value a piece might render, it will go up in flames for eternity.

Art is merely an expression of the heart. If the human heart is unredeemed, what value does the art possess?

God, I know you love all people. But you have set the standard to reconciliation. You have required our obedience in the giving of our lives. Not bits and pieces but the whole. Just as Jesus surrendered all to you, you will settle for nothing less from us. Help us to “get” that. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.