Fallacies of the Church (part two) -- All You Need Is God

Maybe you've heard the joke:

There was a man caught in a flood because he didn't leave his house when he was told to evacuate. Rather than leave, he put his faith in God to save him. The waters rose higher and higher until he was eventually forced to climb out onto his roof. Once there, a man in a small boat came by and offered to carry him to safety. The man replied, "No, thank you. God will save me."

The waters continued to rise until he was sitting on the very top of his roof. A couple of men came by in a fishing boat and offered to carry him to safety. The man replied, "No, thank you! God will save me."

The waters continued to rise until he was forced to climb to the top of his chimney to sit. A helicopter came by and lowered itself and dropped a rope. The man replied, "No, thank you! God will save me!"

The waters continued to rise, and the man was swept away and drowned. Upon entering Heaven, he said to God, "God, I put my faith in you. Why didn't you save me?"

God answered, "I sent two boats and a helicopter. What more did you want?"

** ** **

Unfortunately, this joke is the perfect example of one of the greatest lies of "the church": God is all you need. And, hey, I get it; there are plenty of verses you can point to in the Bible that seem to say that, plenty of verses that talk about how God will supply your needs. Your physical needs. Except, the problem there is that those needs, with the exception of manna in the desert, don't magically appear. People provide them.

The thing is this: This is one of the most harmful lies of the church, this idea that God is all you need. It's always delivered in the context of someone needing help, which is what makes it so destructive. Are you going through an emotional upheaval, like a divorce? Don't worry; God is all you need. Are you going through a financial difficulty, like you just lost your job and can't make your house payments? Don't worry; God is all you need. Did you just suffer a physical trauma, like you found out you have cancer? Don't worry; God is all you need.

This line is always delivered in an effort to get the human(s) saying it out of any responsibility to be of assistance in the situation. "Oh, you don't need me. God is all you need." Then, if that situation doesn't turn around and end up in a positive manner? Well, there's definitely something wrong with the individual who had the problem. That person didn't "trust" God enough or, maybe, and even worse, God didn't like that person to begin with.

"All you need is God" is a cop out from "the church" and its members delivered on a weekly basis to people "the church" doesn't want to associate with.

What's worse (and it's worse because it's more insidious) is that it teaches people to not accept help, just like the guy in the joke. Accepting help from other people is some twisted kind of weakness and proof that you're not trusting God to... what? Who knows. Materialize a stack of money in your living room? "Fix" the spouse who is initiating the divorce? Heal you over night of the cancer? I'm just going to say this: If you're in need and someone offers help, fucking take the help! That's what people are for. Because God is actually not all you need.

What I know from experience from the use of this statement against people (and, yes, I do mean "against"), either from getting out of needing to offer help or people refusing to ask for it, is that when things don't work out, people feel abandoned by God and, therefore, abandon "the church," which, actually, might be for the better. However, destroying someone's faith is never for the better. And "the church" was put here to help people, not to tell them that they only need God and everything will be okay.

Look, I'm not going to get into a tit for tat verse argument about the validity of the statement; that would be pointless. Instead, I'm going to look at one particular event in the Bible, a foundational event, you could say. It doesn't even matter if you take this event as literal fact or some sort of metaphor, the truth that comes out of this is the same either way if you believe that God created man as a being meant to be in a relationship with Him. Let's look at Adam:

God is sitting around up in Heaven and, evidently, being a bit bored. All He has are Angels who don't have "free will," whatever that means considering a third of them rebelled against Him. Whatever the case, God decides to make a man, and He does. For a while, everything is great. God comes down to the special place He made for the man, Eden, and hangs out with him every night. Maybe they played poker? Or, maybe, they had a long running game of Monopoly going? You know with just two people that game can go on for ages. Or, maybe, they just skipped stones on the lake. I don't know.

What I do know is that, after a while, God realized that He, He being God!, was not enough for Adam. Adam was lonely and bored and couldn't handle all of the work of taking care of Eden all by himself. God was NOT all Adam needed. The end result of that is... well, people. Social people that need to depend on each other and cannot get by on God alone, as it were.

And I could go on and on. God appeared to Moses and told Moses that He would be with him, and Moses said, "Nope, I need a person." David had Jonathan. Paul had Barnabas. Jesus had his disciples! God, as man, needed people! Obviously, God is NOT all you need.

That the current iteration of Christianity is full of this message, "All you need is God," from the pulpit and pews to Christian music, is, well, it's horrible and destructive and a lie. In fact, it's undermining to the whole message of true Christianity. Of course, what we have in the United States today is more of a political movement, not a faith, and that message fits right in with that. A church that is preaching the "all you need is God" teaching is, more than likely, not a church you should be attending. Unless, of course, you're already bought into the same idea as a way of avoiding helping people.

Creating a Masterpiece (an Indie Life post)

What do you think of when you hear the word "masterpiece"? And I don't mean Masterpiece Theater, either. Do you think of this?

Or this?

Or, maybe, even this?

Or something like this?

Joyeuse, the sword of Charlemagne

While it's true that we think of great works of art or craftsmanship as masterpieces, it wasn't always so. Far from it, actually. For hundreds of years, right up until modern times, the word masterpiece was actually applied to what was probably going to be the least accomplished work of one's professional career.
Wait. What?

Okay, let me explain.

There used to be this thing in Europe called a guild system. I'm not sure if they called it that, but it's what we call it. If you were a craftsman or artisan of any kind, you belonged to a guild. So there were guilds for woodworkers, stone cutters, goldsmiths, cooks, painters, sculptors... nearly anything you could think of. And, while it may seem that these just covered, basically, practical professions, they also covered the arts (and many of the most famous pieces of art in history came out of guild work, especially stuff done in cathedrals and other important buildings). [I also want to point out that the guilds also, to some extent, covered writing, especially scholarly writing.] If you wanted to be in one of these careers, you would get apprenticed to someone within the guild to learn the trade. Usually, this was just arranged between the families involved (because often the apprentice went off to live with the person he was apprenticed to), but, (I think) sometimes, these arrangements could be assigned by the guild.

So the apprentice would spend years working with his master to learn his trade, whatever that trade was. At the point that the apprentice had (1) learned everything from his master that he could or (2) learned everything that his master was willing to teach him, he would either become a journeyman (someone who "traveled" (because actual travelling wasn't always involved)) while he worked on his craft and attempted to learn new skills through practice or from finding others to learn from or, if his master had taught him enough, attempt to become a "master craftsman" himself. This was kind of like a test. Okay, no, it was a test. A skills test. The craftsman would have to produce an item to show that he had mastered his craft. If the item was judged worthy, it was called his "masterpiece."

And, as an aside, many (most? all?) of the guilds kept the items that "students" presented and had halls to display great "masterpiece" items. As an additional aside, some of these guilds grew into actual universities. Two prime examples are the Universities of Paris and Oxford.

So... it is true that an artisan tried to do his absolute best work on his masterpiece; it is also true that the production of a masterpiece marked the beginning of a master craftsman's career, not the culmination of it. It was expected that a "master" would go on to create even better works of... art. Because a master was expected to create things of beauty. Even if it was just chairs. Or stone pillars. Or swords. Or, even, writing, to a certain extent.

So here I am to present to you The House on the Corner as my "masterpiece." Not my best work, but the work that proves that I can do the work. I intend that everything will just get better from here on out, and I think that I've already done better. "Christmas on the Corner," for instance, is better. Brother's Keeper will be even better. That's how it goes. Or how it should go.

Now, you get out there and make your "masterpiece"! Whatever that is. Create that masterpiece and declare, "It only gets better from here!"

This post has been brought to you in part by Indie Life.

U2 and the Quest for a #1

I love the band U2, of which I've made no secret. I've loved them since the first time I ever heard them. They're my favorite band, and have been for, well, a long, long time. Unfortunately, I missed out on their formative years, because I just didn't listen to that type of music at that time.

I grew up, as most people do, on my parents' music (more specifically, my mother's music). Not that everyone grew up on my parents' music, because I don't remember you all at my house when I was a kid, so I expect that you grew up on your parents' music. My mother was into folk stuff: Simon and Garfunkel; Peter, Paul, and Mary; Bob Dylan. There was a little Beatles thrown in, but I was never into them (my mom still (at least I hope it's still) has the white album and Sgt. Pepper on vinyl). Oh, and the Beach Boys. At any rate, when I finally got into music on my own (at the very old age of 15), I tended toward that kind of music and listened to a "light rock" station that played "hits from the 60s, 70s, and 80s." I was really into Air Supply if that tells you anything. What the station I listened to didn't play was actual rock music which meant that the station did not play U2.

The first time I ever remember hearing of U2 was my junior year of high school. I was dating this girl that was constantly asking me about songs of theirs, especially "Sunday Bloody Sunday." She couldn't seem to hold it in her head that I had never heard of U2 before she mentioned them, and I continued to not try to figure out who they were 1. because she wouldn't leave me alone about them. 2. because her other favorite group was Pink Floyd, and I was certainly not interested in them (thank you very much).

So it wasn't until the release of "With or Without You," a song that the station I listened to would play, that I finally heard a U2 song. I was instantly hooked. I loved that song. I had to know who that group was, and I was kind of not happy to find out that it was U2 1. because my (by then) ex-girlfriend had bugged me about them all the time. 2. because I wished I'd taken the time to see who they were when she was bugging me about them all the time. I dived into all of their older stuff along with The Joshua Tree and 1987 became my own personal year of U2 quite aside from what was going on with them and the rest of the world.

But what did it take for them to finally get my attention? A #1 single. And a #1 single was something that U2 actively sought. They were striving for it. This highlights the question for me of "Is it art if it's commercial?" And that's a whole different discussion, the difference between what is and what is not art, so I'm not really going to go into that; however, it has some bearing on where I'm going with this, so it had to be mentioned.

When U2 first got together, they didn't know what they were doing. Larry Mullen was the only one that really knew anything about music. They were just a bunch of kids that wanted to be in a band. But they practiced hard and learned. Not just learning to make music but learning who they were. That bit, the bit of learning themselves, learning their voice, was just as important as learning how to make music. One was learning the technical skills and the other was learning their specific art, their voice.

Skipping the history lesson, all of this lead to their first album, Boy. Boy and, later, October were received well critically, but they failed to achieve the kind of commercial success that they and Island Records wanted. They were making art, good art, but no one was seeing it. Well, hearing it. They wanted a #1 single, and they set about to get it. They wanted, in short, commercial success.

This is where a lot of people would say they "sold out." They let their desire to be commercially successful destroy their art. (Not that I know if anyone would actually say this about U2, but it would be said about a lot of other people in this position.) It's at this point that a lot of bands, writers, painters, artists of whatever stripe would have sold out. They would have looked around at what was popular and tried to mimic that, subverting their art into something that it wasn't in hopes of becoming popular so that "one day" they could return to what they really wanted to do.

U2 didn't do that. The used their desire for commercial success to drive them to become, well, to become more them. They didn't look around at what was popular in music and try to do that; they just kept pushing to get better. I look at it like what Michelangelo said about his sculpture David, (and this is a paraphrase) "I chipped away everything that wasn't David." I think U2 chipped away everything that wasn't U2 in becoming the band that released three #1 singles from The Joshua Tree. Certainly, they did not pattern themselves after  the things that were popular at the time as often what they were doing was at right angles to what everyone else was doing.

Often people look down on artists that want commercial success. It's as if the desire to be successful somehow makes them less. Makes them, in short, a sellout. Like it's a choice. You can either do art or you can be commercial. The truth is, though, that it's not a choice. Sure, so many of us think that it is that we frequently make it into a choice. For instance, the choice between writing a vampire/zombie novel (commercial) or writing about the long road trip through the desert (art).

The real problem is that too many people never figure out their specific art before trying to get the #1. They don't spend the time discovering their own voice so that they can become more of themselves when they're ready to reach for the goal of making their art a commercial success. Instead, they just strive for commercial success and leave their art behind hoping to go back to it one day.

The truth is that there doesn't have to be a choice. If you know your art, if you've spent time with it, learning it, discovering it, becoming it, when it comes time to achieve, you do that by becoming more "it." You chip away everything that's not "you," and you take your art along with you.

Yeah, yeah, I know, that doesn't guarantee that you get the #1. But, then, nothing guarantees that you get the #1. But, if you do, no one can call you a sellout, right? And you're still you. I think that's the key to all real success and to being happy in your success. The ability to become more of who you are, not becoming something you're not.

Learn your art. Become your art. Become more you.


I really wish I could give you my top 10 U2 songs or something, but I can't get it down to 10. I even like Pop and Zooropa, if that tells you anything. I'll think more about this one and, maybe, give you a top 10 countdown at some point.