Honesty seems to be something that’s always hard to access in Christian society. I’ve gone to one too many youth group meetings or Church events or Christian school-related items where everybody there feels like it’s necessary pretend to be happy all the time. It seems like an underlying clause of the Christian mindset is that we aren’t supposed to talk about the stuff that sucks, either in the world or in our own personal lives.
It’s easy to do this. I was raised in a culture that gave me the resources I needed to make others believe life was always great. At youth group I could raise my hands during worship; at school I could volunteer to read a Bible verse for chapel; at Church I could always go to Sunday school. It was too easy for me to slide under the radar and have everybody think my life, my ideals, and my faith were set in stone. It got unhealthy for me in a lot of ways. It was hard for me to talk about social issues with anyone other than my close friends at my high school, and besides a few select teachers and those close friends, I didn’t really tell people my real feelings and very rarely expressed anything I thought was in any way truly confessional of my own troubles. Honesty was a rarity for me, as I believe it is for many other Christians.
In my experience artists have been a lot better at bringing honesty to the art they make than Christians have been to the lives they live. The first experience I had with this was during my junior year of high school, when I went to a concert by The National with my dad. The National had just released their 6th record, Trouble Will Find Me, which they played roughly half of, but they also played a lot of music from their previous three albums, Alligator, Boxer, and High Violet, including the song “Abel,” from Alligator. Most of The National’s music is mellow alternative rock, lulled to a place of melancholy by Matt Berninger’s baritone voice, but there is nothing lulling about “Abel.” The two guitarists, Bryce and Aaron Dessner both crank the distortion and start thrashing out power chords until the lead guitar riff leads the band into the opening chorus, which consists of Matt Berninger literally screaming against Bryce Dessner’s ripping guitar the line "My mind's not right, my mind's not right, my mind's not right!” My dad and I were in the balcony of the Spoelhof Gym with the crowd below us so we could watch them jump up and down, screaming with the lead singer, "My mind's not right, my mind's not right, my mind's not right!" Dad turned to me in the middle of the song and said "Look at that. That’s confession. That's real, genuine confession."
Initially I was too caught up in the song to really acknowledge what he was talking about. As a pastor, my Dad talks about stuff like that a lot, so I brushed it off as Dad being a religion nerd and returned my attention to the song as each chorus grew louder than the last: “My mind’s not right, my mind’s not right,” echoing from every corner of the room. Later that night, as I listened to that song in bed and mouthed the words to myself, I realized Dad was right. There was honest confession in Matt Berninger screaming to the crowd and the crowd screaming it back with him that I hadn’t really known before. This kind of honesty is hard to come by outside of the world of art, especially in Christian circles. As a result, I found myself listening to that song a lot in the following weeks and months because it offered some form of honesty I had limited access to.
It’s easy to do this. I was raised in a culture that gave me the resources I needed to make others believe life was always great. At youth group I could raise my hands during worship; at school I could volunteer to read a Bible verse for chapel; at Church I could always go to Sunday school. It was too easy for me to slide under the radar and have everybody think my life, my ideals, and my faith were set in stone. It got unhealthy for me in a lot of ways. It was hard for me to talk about social issues with anyone other than my close friends at my high school, and besides a few select teachers and those close friends, I didn’t really tell people my real feelings and very rarely expressed anything I thought was in any way truly confessional of my own troubles. Honesty was a rarity for me, as I believe it is for many other Christians.
In my experience artists have been a lot better at bringing honesty to the art they make than Christians have been to the lives they live. The first experience I had with this was during my junior year of high school, when I went to a concert by The National with my dad. The National had just released their 6th record, Trouble Will Find Me, which they played roughly half of, but they also played a lot of music from their previous three albums, Alligator, Boxer, and High Violet, including the song “Abel,” from Alligator. Most of The National’s music is mellow alternative rock, lulled to a place of melancholy by Matt Berninger’s baritone voice, but there is nothing lulling about “Abel.” The two guitarists, Bryce and Aaron Dessner both crank the distortion and start thrashing out power chords until the lead guitar riff leads the band into the opening chorus, which consists of Matt Berninger literally screaming against Bryce Dessner’s ripping guitar the line "My mind's not right, my mind's not right, my mind's not right!” My dad and I were in the balcony of the Spoelhof Gym with the crowd below us so we could watch them jump up and down, screaming with the lead singer, "My mind's not right, my mind's not right, my mind's not right!" Dad turned to me in the middle of the song and said "Look at that. That’s confession. That's real, genuine confession."
Initially I was too caught up in the song to really acknowledge what he was talking about. As a pastor, my Dad talks about stuff like that a lot, so I brushed it off as Dad being a religion nerd and returned my attention to the song as each chorus grew louder than the last: “My mind’s not right, my mind’s not right,” echoing from every corner of the room. Later that night, as I listened to that song in bed and mouthed the words to myself, I realized Dad was right. There was honest confession in Matt Berninger screaming to the crowd and the crowd screaming it back with him that I hadn’t really known before. This kind of honesty is hard to come by outside of the world of art, especially in Christian circles. As a result, I found myself listening to that song a lot in the following weeks and months because it offered some form of honesty I had limited access to.
It seems important for Christians to pursue this kind of honesty if they’re committed to confession and the recognition of the brokenness of the world. Matt Berninger doesn’t affiliate himself with organized religion, but when he screams to the crowd “my mind’s not right!” he expresses himself in the inartificial, unmanicured nature that Christians should. We have to learn from him and countless others like Mitski, Kendrick Lamar, Vagabon (I’m leaving out hundreds of examples of people who are making really good honest art… and these are just musicians. The same applies for any other art form. I’m just talking about music right now because it’s the way I experienced it in this moment) who are being honest about issues with themselves the world. If we accept a culture that is ingenuine, we risk cultivating a Christianity that is both fake and feeble.
Using art to open a dialogue about hard things is a versatile way for people to express the kind of honesty that needs to be articulated in the cultivation of healthy people and healthy communities. Art can be used to open conversations about social issues, mental illness, personal strife, issues of faith, and countless other things. Not only does it provide a platform for students to express brokenness and frustration, it also allows for readers and listeners and watchers to find themselves in each other’s brokenness and frustrations. In singing along with The National during that song, I found my brokenness in the brokenness Matt Berninger expressed.
This is a huge reason why Dialogue is important to Calvin. Dialogue is a medium through which students can be honest about what is really going on in the world and really going on with themselves. As Christians, we need the capacity to be honest. We can’t fake our way through life pretending everything in the world and with ourselves is alright. Dialogue gives students at Calvin a chance to communicate with each other about social issues, issues of religion, issues of sexuality, and personal issues, and to then experience those frustrations and conversations together.
I hope nobody ever thinks that if they don’t get into Dialogue they aren’t participating in the types of conversations and honesty we’re shooting for. Just by getting your art out there is participating in the discussion. Reading the magazine is participating in the discussion. Talking about a poem you like with your friends is participating in the discussion. This honesty art provides is not merely a healthy habit for Christians to partake in, it’s a spiritual necessity. Dialogue is the platform for the real conversations we need to have: honest conversations about the important things in life.
Using art to open a dialogue about hard things is a versatile way for people to express the kind of honesty that needs to be articulated in the cultivation of healthy people and healthy communities. Art can be used to open conversations about social issues, mental illness, personal strife, issues of faith, and countless other things. Not only does it provide a platform for students to express brokenness and frustration, it also allows for readers and listeners and watchers to find themselves in each other’s brokenness and frustrations. In singing along with The National during that song, I found my brokenness in the brokenness Matt Berninger expressed.
This is a huge reason why Dialogue is important to Calvin. Dialogue is a medium through which students can be honest about what is really going on in the world and really going on with themselves. As Christians, we need the capacity to be honest. We can’t fake our way through life pretending everything in the world and with ourselves is alright. Dialogue gives students at Calvin a chance to communicate with each other about social issues, issues of religion, issues of sexuality, and personal issues, and to then experience those frustrations and conversations together.
I hope nobody ever thinks that if they don’t get into Dialogue they aren’t participating in the types of conversations and honesty we’re shooting for. Just by getting your art out there is participating in the discussion. Reading the magazine is participating in the discussion. Talking about a poem you like with your friends is participating in the discussion. This honesty art provides is not merely a healthy habit for Christians to partake in, it’s a spiritual necessity. Dialogue is the platform for the real conversations we need to have: honest conversations about the important things in life.
Patrick Jonker
Staff Member