Last week I had an experience that is becoming increasingly commonplace. I closed my email, shut off all my notifications, and sat down to do some “deep work” (as Cal Newport calls it).
Art and Faith is part personal testimony, part theological aesthetics, and part aesthetic theology. Fujimura’s aim goes beyond asking the church to take the arts seriously. What he is after is a paradigm shift in the way Christians construe the life of faith and our relationship to the world.
We failed to bear witness to the gospel in a way that eclipsed partisan division. We failed to offer a united front in the face of a global pandemic. But most significantly, we failed to offer an unambiguous rejection of white supremacy after irreplaceable black lives were extinguished. I felt some anger, but mostly I felt grief.
Lately, I’ve been having a crisis of faith. But I am not doubting the presence or goodness of God—what I am doubting is the power and goodness of words.
The more I read, the more I realized that most formative authors were not the ones that simply restated the truth. They were the ones who mesmerized me with metaphors, who helped me carve out new connections—the ones who engaged my imagination.
In the coming years, when we look back on our cultural response to the novel coronavirus, shifting attitudes towards mask-wearing will prove an interesting case study. It has been fascinating to watch how the meaning of mask-wearing has changed in so short a time.