Collide Magazine

The Artist's Cry

Gary Molander - Originally posted Thursday, January 28, 2010 -

How do you know what the Creative Arts staff and media volunteers in the local church are thinking? Some will tell you outright. But most won’t. Most just stay quiet.

There is, however, a surefire way to know what they’re thinking; it’s simple, really. Put them in a room with no lead pastors, no church executives, and no church elders. Now add a dose of other artists: worship pastors, film- makers, web designers, a couple of painters, a dancer, and a host of graphic designers, and it happens—authentic conversation. “You feel that way too? I thought I was the only one.”

Every time I get the honor of speaking and teaching to this kind of crowd, I’m blown away by the dialogue during the time we spend together. I’m even more amazed by the line that forms after the presentation. Without fail, there are themes that keep resurfacing, themes that senior pastors and church executives should be anxious to hear. So, please listen to the voice of the people who form this line. They are artists. They are evangelists. They are already in your congregation.

And they are limping.

These are not words from the mouths of those arrogant creatives who think they can do your job better than you, or who only want to talk about their art, their design, or their ego. They form a line too, but they’re whining, not crying.

The following statements are taken from broken, quiet, and fearful people who are, above all, good. They may get paid by your church, or they may simply volunteer as much as they can. Here’s what they’re saying:

“Please give me more time” — This is, without a doubt, the most common desire heard from church artists and media folks. Christian artists wish executive leaders would understand that they can’t simply click the “Be Creative” button and then turn it off when they’re done. Creativity comes in the middle of the night, or in the shower, or while they’re mowing their lawn.

"If I say no to you, I feel like I'm saying no to God" — You may think this is crappy theology, but many artists feel like God speaks to the senior leader, then he/she speaks to the staff with God’s message. When I was in pastoral ministry, this was a voice I battled with every day. There is enormous freedom for the artist when an executive leader is secure enough to say, “It’s okay to tell me no.”

“I want you to be pleased with my art” — Artists need to know that executive leaders like the stuff they create. Most artists struggle with the feeling of not being appreciated for the time and effort they expend on a project.

“I wonder if I’m really making a difference” — Artists need to know that their art is impacting the lives of real people, and a key role executive leaders can play is connecting those dots for them. Names and faces help artists make it real and do more to motivate Christian artists than anything else I know.

“I spend more money out of my own pocket than you’ll ever know” — When God plants an artistic idea deep in the heart of a filmmaker or a graphic designer, they can’t not create it. And when there’s no money, the artist pays. I know an artist in my former church who’s paying off a $6,000 Visa balance, spent entirely on video and web projects for that church.

“Ultimately, I want to get this right” — The artists I listen to want desperately to do whatever is best. They’re willing to change and revise their art. They just don’t want a constant re-envisioning of their art to become the norm during the life cycle of the project. I’ve heard countless stories about teaching pastors who excessively play the “God card” as a reason for changing their entire direction for a series, and then telling the staff to scrap what they’ve already done and start over. Will this happen on occasion? Yes, and artists need to deal with it. But should it ever become the norm? Not if you want to honor artists and creatives.

I know. I know. This all seems extremely one-sided, pitting the “poor, misunderstood artist” against the “tyrannical over-bearing boss.” Those are extremes, and I’m not writing to either extreme. But this article is, by design, very one-sided. It has to be. It’s the cry of the artist, whether right or wrong—it’s what they are thinking, feeling, and beginning to say out loud.

And more important than any of that, there’s something even more disturbing about this whole discussion. Tragically, I’ve only met a few executive leaders who even think they need to read an article like this.

Gary Molander is an extremely fulfilled husband, father, and business owner. The beta version of an organization in which his deepest desires are married to a legitimate need in the world is called Floodgate Productions.