Visually Faithful
What do an iPhone, a cloud column, and a Star Wars mug all have in common? Perhaps as we journey together through this post, we might discover the connection between these images. We step onto the path, first, by recognizing our earthiness as humans, connected as creatures to one another, the rest of creation, and our Creator. Along the way, though, we’ve forgotten our creature-liness. Though we follow Jesus, we’ve inherited some fantastic baggage from our Puritan predecessors. Eyes closed to pray, straight orderly pews, our Puritan worship became inwardly focused, a “turn your [spiritual] eyes upon Jesus.” As William Dyrness notes in Visual Faith, images within Reformation worship settings “necessarily played no role; in fact, they were usually perceived as a distraction from the inward focus on the preaching (and sung) Word.”[1]
Our ancestors succeeded in turning spirituality inward, gnosticly focused on the subordination of sacred space and aesthetics to the preaching of the Word and the “verbal dimensions of spirituality.”[2] And for better or worse, the Restoration Movement, of which I’m a part, has its roots in the Enlightenment and Great Awakening, and thus has traditionally valued this piety of inward-focused worship over holistic worship, to the extent that my own memory of church includes a “chart outlining the ages of salvation history” because “only in the form of a chart could the order of the world be made clear”.[3] Thankfully, those charts have disappeared from our buildings, but our worship spaces remain utilitarian auditoriums for audiences, rather than sacred spaces with visible reminders of God’s story.
As we’ve noted before, cultural contexts are dynamic, always changing. Conversing with my teenage son, I asked him to respond to this quote from Dyrness:
The Protestant imagination has been nourished uniquely by the spoken and written Word, and therefore, we tend to think that everyone must be spiritually and morally nourished in the way that we (and our forebears) have been. Surely these verbal means are of critical importance. But our children… have been raised in a different world; they are often uninterested in our traditional word-centered media. Instead, they are looking for a new imaginative vision of life and reality, one they can see and feel, as well as understand.[4]
He emphatically agreed, we discussed for a bit how he and his friends prefer visual experiences to audio ones (or the combination of the two, such as a concert), then he returned to playing games on his iPhone.
This visual emphasis unfolds as well within the church community I am newly serving. A sparse worship space, with few sacred symbols has long been satisfactory.[5] But with the assimilation of many younger, visually and symbolically oriented members, we are recognizing the value of incorporating graphic images into our space. As I serve in my new role within this vibrant community, I hope to recall us back to the early Christian community’s images, which gave “corporate expression to the faith of these communities.”[6] This community believes that God has given us what we need to live and serve God faithfully in this place. If that is true, then even the visual expressions we share are valuable. We’ve begun using art from our community on our bulletins occasionally (last week’s was a finger painting of our garden in front of one of our apartment buildings, done by kids in our daycare). We’re collaborating on Advent devotionals, which partner daily devotions with artwork and poetry from our church. And our communion plate and goblets were created by a potter in our church who also 
makes unique Star Wars mugs.[7] Madeline L’Engle believes that “the discipline of creation, be it to paint, compose, rite, is an effort toward wholeness.”[8] If that is true, then can cooperative art for a faith community be an opportunity for mutual wholeness as well? As we collaborate on these expressions, I want us to imagine the worship space itself as an opportunity to draw us to God and one another.[9] We’re forming an aesthetics team to look at the implicit theology of our space—do we keep the artificial plants? Add banners to our brick walls? This feels like it has great potential to be both fun and formational.
Through creating, we can better reflect on the story of God at work in scripture, in the Church’s past, and in our present. Images and action were essential to people inscripture understanding and relating to God. Abraham’s alter to sacrifice Isaac wasn’t just a mental image of sacrifice in his mind; it was mountain stones ritually stacked. The Israelites didn’t simply follow a cloud pillar “in their hearts” but relied on it for GPS directions. And Thomas didn’t just symbolically stick his fingers in the risen Jesus’ side; his hand touched the resurrection flesh. God truly dwelt as human among humans—incarnated. “[T]he visual experience of God’s people was to accompany and elaborate God’s Word to them…. If one of God’s purposes in the Old Testament is to prepare [God’s] people for the actual appearance of God in the incarnation, we can see how vital the visible aspect of God’s presence had to be,” suggests Dyrness.[10] If that was true in ancient times, can it not be today as well?
L’Engle reminds us, “The journey homeward. Coming home. That’s what it’s all about. The journey to the coming of the Kingdom…. The purpose of the work, be it story or music or painting, is to further the coming of the kingdom, to make us aware of our status as children of God, and to turn our feet toward home.”[11] If we believe that the revelation of the good news of God coming near must perpetually be contextualized, then for the visually-oriented iPhone generation, actual images such as community crafted communion objects are tangible reminders, as real as cloud pillars, that God dwells among us as the Holy Spirit among God’s people.
[1] William Dyrness, Visual Faith: Art, Theology, and Worship in Dialogue (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2001), 54.
[2] Ibid., 59.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid., 21.
[5] Dyrness calls these spaces “unimaginatively empty” (22).
[6] Ibid., 26.
[7] I should clarify that our communion goblets are not Star Wars themed, though that would be… interesting.
[8] Madeline L’Engle, Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1980), 70.
[9] Simone Weil suggests “there are three ways people are drawn to God: through affliction, religious practices, and by the experience of beauty” (Dyrness, 22).
[10] Ibid., 84.
[11] L’Engle, 162-163.
About the Author
Katy Drage Lines
In God’s good Kingdom, some minister like trees, long-standing, rooted in a community. They embody words of Wendell Berry, “stay years if you would know the genius of the place.” Others, however, are called to go. Katy is one of those pilgrims. A global nomad, Katy grew up as a fifth generation Colorado native, attended college & seminary and was ordained in Tennessee, married a guy from Pennsylvania, ministered for ten years in Kenya, worked as a children’s pastor in a small church in Kentucky, and served college students in a university library in Orange County, California. She recently moved to the heart of America, Indianapolis, and has joined the Englewood Christian Church community, serving with them as Pastor of Spiritual Formation. She & her husband Kip, have two delightful boys, a college junior and high school junior.7 responses to “Visually Faithful”
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Hi Katy,
I always learn so much reading your post. I love your interpretation of visual art as it relates to Abraham
“Abraham’s alter to sacrifice Isaac wasn’t just a mental image of sacrifice in his mind; it was mountain stones ritually stacked.”
Thank you, Katy for a well crafted explanation of how the visual impacts us.
The only question I have is how do I get people to memorize the interesting picture you posted? We can all memorize Bible verses (even if we disagree on interpretation, but we might disagree on interpretation of art as well). It does seem easier to memorize words than pictures. So, I agree with Dyrness that we need both. But your stress on the visual is needed in a time when it is neglected. Thank you for your brilliant post.
Thanks Mary. Not sure which image you’re referring to in terms of memorizing. We don’t need to “memorize” images, because when they impact us, they remain embedded in our memory. And often remind us of those Bible stories and verses that we’ve memorized. Likewise, Bible verses and stories often call to mind for me specific images I remember. For instance, I can never think of Abraham & Sarah welcoming the Three Visitors without recalling Rublev’s painting of the Trinity in mutual deference to one another.
A powerful paragraph that really moved me Katy: “Through creating, we can better reflect on the story of God at work in scripture, in the Church’s past, and in our present.” I really liked how you applied this to Old Testament stories. A great reminder that the images portrayed in scripture were intentional and purposeful in communicating the gospel. Sounds like a deep, inspiring sermon.
Ha!– using some of this in tomorrow’s sermon. 🙂
Katy, I really like the way you approach worship not only from the individual and community but from a spatial context as well. I agree that the space in which we worship helps set the tone for worship and community. That includes the bulletin and the communion cups—which are so wonderfully unique in your church. Very interesting and encouraging post Katy. Thank you!
What a beautiful post, Katy! Thank you for including your son in this conversation as well.
You said, “Through creating, we can better reflect on the story of God at work in scripture, in the Church’s past, and in our present.” Suddenly I thought of all of the flannel-graphs I encountered as a child growing up in a church that was not big on visual art as a whole. Why do we relegate visual story-telling to the children’s department?