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THOUGHTFULLY DRIVING THE PORCELAIN BUS

A Column by John S Schroeder

February 2, 2002

One of my friends/neighbors is an independent film producer. VERY independent. Great films, if not ones with broad appeal. I will never forget a discussion I had with him a few years ago as the digital cable television revolution was beginning. He was so excited. He felt sure that somewhere in 500 channels there would be an outlet for his films and they would then find an audience/market. While I wish his films could find a larger, moneymaking audience in the U.S. I had to argue with him about cable TV.

My argument was simply that each of those 500 channels would need to make money. As such they would be averse to broadcasting material that did not already have a developed and identified audience. My vision of 500 channels was more of same, over and over again. At the risk of bragging, so far, my vision seems to have been more accurate. Has anyone noticed that there are THREE separate series named "Law and Order" available on FOUR or FIVE different outlets? This is one of the better franchises on TV, but there is such a thing as stretching a point.

Here is the hard part. My friend's films, at least what I have seen of them, have made me better. They taught me something. They helped me understand him, and his particular community better. The last film I saw stem to stern uplifted me and helped me be a better neighbor to him. At the same time, I have to say that the film was not particularly "entertaining." I did not leave the theatre with that same emotional high as when I left "Star Wars," or that same romantic longing as "Lord of the Rings." But then becoming a better person is not always an entertaining experience.

Herein lies another reason that "transforming worship" in mainline denominations is not something that I wholeheartedly support. The message of Christianity is, as I have previously discussed in these spaces, about transformation. Jesus came to save us, yes, but more importantly, he came to make us better people. Jesus came to keep us from hell, yes, but even better, he came to enable us to be the people of quality we were created to be, not the wretched, ugly people most of us are. In other words, as with my friend's film, experiencing the Gospel of Jesus will make me a better person, but it will not always entertain me.

I am deeply troubled when the church thinks that the answers to its problems lie in becoming more entertaining. Isn’t that what contemporary worship is all about -- Removing the "anachronistic" elements from our services and making them more modern and appealing? Don’t get me wrong. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with modern praise music. However the old hymns are far more lyrically rich, and far more challenging to me spiritually. Forget the old hymns, a few months ago we sang "Pass It On" in church from the hymnal! If you don’t remember, that's the old youth group song from the 70's. I had to resist the temptation to light a campfire in the sanctuary and have us all hold hands around it and sway while we sang. Anyway, that merely 30 year old song has lyrics far richer, informative and challenging, than the repetitive praise choruses of today. But then the music really isn't the issue.

The very idea that we can make the Gospel more entertaining terrifies me. After all, the Gospel contains a lot of unhappy news too. It starts with the premise that we are sinners. This is not a happy or entertaining thought. But this I know, and this scripture confirms, I can never really encounter Jesus, until I recognize my sin, and give it to Him to destroy. Believe me when I tell you, there is nothing less entertaining than that. Really encountering Jesus is a painful experience, and I have never associated that kind of pain with entertainment. Consider the following passage from C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia.

"I won't tell you how I became a-a dragon till I can tell the others and get it all over," said Eustace. "By the way, I didn't even know it was a dragon till I heard you all using the word when I turned up here the other morning. I want to tell you how I stopped being one.

"Fire ahead," said Edmund.

"Well, last night I was more miserable than ever. And that beastly arm-ring was hurting like anything"

"Is that all right now?"

Eustace laughed-a different laugh from any Edmund had heard him give before-and slipped the bracelet easily off his arm. "There it is," he said, "and anyone who likes can have it as far as I'm concerned. Well, as I say, I was lying awake and wondering what on earth would become of me. And then-but, mind you, it may have been all a dream. I don't know."

"Go on, said Edmund, with considerable patience.

"Well, anyway, I looked up and saw the very last thing I expected: a huge lion coming slowly toward me. And one queer thing was that there was no moon last night, but there was moonlight where the lion was. So it came nearer and nearer. I was terribly afraid of it. You may think that, being a dragon, I could have knocked any lion out easily enough. But it wasn't that kind of fear. I wasn't afraid of it eating me, I was just afraid of if-if you can understand. Well, it came close up to me and looked straight into my eyes. And I shut my eyes tight. But that wasn't any good because it told me to follow it."

"You mean it spoke?"

"I don't know. Now that you mention it, I don't think it did. But it told me all the same. And I knew I'd have to do what it told me, so I got up and followed it. And it led me a long way into the mountains. And there was always this moonlight over and round the lion wherever we went. So at last we came to the top of a mountain I'd never seen before and on the top of this mountain there was a garden-trees and fruit and everything. In the middle of it there was a well.

"I knew it was a well because you could see the water bubbling up from the bottom of it: but it was a lot bigger than most wells-like a very big, round bath with marble steps going down into it. The water was as clear as anything and I thought if I could get in there and bathe it would ease the pain in my leg. But the lion told me I must undress first. Mind you, I don't know if he said any words out loud or not.

"I was just going to say that I couldn't undress because I hadn't any clothes on when I suddenly thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast their skins. Oh, of course, thought I, that's what the lion means. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming off all over the place. And then I scratched a little deeper and, instead of just scales coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I was a banana. In a minute or two I just stepped out of it. I could see it lying there beside me, looking rather nasty. It was a most lovely feeling. So I started to go down into the well for my bathe.

"But just as I was going to put my feet into the water I looked down and saw that they were all hard and rough and wrinkled and scaly just as they had been before. Oh, that's all right, said I, it only means I had another smaller suit on underneath the first one, and I'll have to get out of it too. So I scratched and tore again and this under-skin peeled off beautifully and out I stepped and left it lying beside the other one and went down to the well for my bathe.

"Well, exactly the same thing happened again. And I thought to myself, oh dear, how ever many skins have I got to take off? For I was longing to bathe my leg. So I scratched away for the third time and got off a third skin, just like the two others, and stepped out of it. But as soon as I looked at myself in the water I knew it had been no good.

"Then the lion said-but I don't know if it spoke, "You will have to let me undress you.' I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.

"The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know-if you've ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it was such fun to see it coming away.

"I know exactly what you mean," said Edmund.

"Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off-just as I thought I'd done it myself the other three times, only they hadn't hurt-and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly looking than the others had been. And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me, I didn't like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I'd no skin on-and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I'd turned into a boy again. You'd think me simply phony if I told you how I felt about my own arms. I know they've no muscle and are pretty mouldy compared with Caspian's, but I was so glad to see them.

'After a bit the lion took me out and dressed

"Dressed you. With his paws?"

"Well, I don't exactly remember that bit. But he did somehow or other: in new clothes-the same I've got on now, as a matter of fact. And then suddenly I was back here. Which is what makes me think it must have been a dream."

"No. It wasn't a dream," said Edmund.

"Why not?"

"Well, there are the clothes, for one thing. And you have been-well, un-dragoned, for another."

"What do you think it was, then?" asked Eustace.

"I think you've seen Aslan," said Edmund.

'Aslan!" said Eustace. "I've heard that name mentioned several times since we joined the Dawn Treader. And I felt-I don't know what-I hated it. But I was hating everything then. And by the way, I'd like to apologize. I'm afraid I've been pretty beastly."

"That's all right," said Edmund. "Between ourselves, you haven't been as bad as I was on my first trip to Narnia. You were only an ass, but I was a traitor."

"Well, don't tell me about it, then," said Eustace. "But who is Aslan? Do you know him?"

"Well-he knows me," said Edmund.

Anyone who knows Lewis, knows that Aslan is Jesus, and I have never read a better description of what it is like to encounter Jesus in my life than the story of Eustace being turned back into a boy. Does Eustace's experience sound entertaining? It sounds very good, and he is much better for it, but it is a far cry from entertaining.

Entertainment packs the house, no question about it. In churches, entertainment will fill the pews, and pay the salaries. What we really want people to come to church for is to lie down and let Aslan claw them as deep as their hearts. But if we entertain them to pull them in, they may not even notice they are dragons -- that revelation alone takes all the fun out of it. Even if they do notice they are dragons, an atmosphere of entertainment, generally leads to them trying do remove the skin themselves.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ is good news -- the BEST news, but it is not fun and it is not really entertaining. We cheapen that news, we make it less than it is if we try and turn it into some sort entertainment.

With Love,