“I hate poetry!” English teachers hear this phrase every time they mention the “p” word. Poetry has become synonymous with words like “confusing” and “pointless,” or phrases like “out-of-date” and “hard-to-understand.” If this rings true with you, then let me change the subject for a minute…to twenty-first century Western culture.

We like our communication fast—texts; we like our food fast—McDonald’s; we like our cooking fast—microwaves. Our culture is filled with services and devices that provide ease and speedy convenience. As a result, we have come to expect everything to be fast, easy and just-a-click away. Our collective cultural “attention span” is becoming shorter by the second: when surfing the internet for example, the average viewer will spend fewer than 5 seconds on a webpage before clicking away. The problem with “fast, easy and convenient” is the accompanying lack of depth, vitality and longevity. Few of us cherish emails the way we might cherish a handwritten note or letter; few of us remember the last fast-food meal or celebrate the microwave meatloaf the way we remember and celebrate Grandma’s turkey dinner or homemade pie.

So what do emails, Big Macs and microwaves have to do with poetry? These icons of cultural convenience have very little to do with poetry, other than to serve as a stark contrast: poetry is anything but fast, easy or convenient. So why should Christians bother investing time and energy into understanding poetry? Because poetry helps us to slow down, ponder and understand the deep and profound realities of God’s universe. While our culture is chock-full of vapid, ephemeral experiences, God’s creation is full of inspiring, rich and eternal experiences. “Be still,” the psalmist writes, “and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). In our fast-paced, non-stop, 24/7 culture, reading poetry teaches us to slow down and “be still.” Poetry instills in us the habit of remembering and reflecting on who we are, who God is, and what life is all about.

Poetry is also a powerful way to express the wonder, depth and beauty of God’s world and to capture the essence of our human experience. Nowhere is this more evident than in the poetry of the Bible. The great poems of the Psalms have been the mainstay of many Christians through times of trial and joy; the depth and profundity of the Psalms are in part due to the medium of poetry. This is true with hymns as well; Christians cherish the poetry of hymns sung weekly during church meetings. But our enjoyment of poetry should not be limited to the psalms or to hymns. All great poets are great observers; they hold up a mirror to ourselves and to society, so they have much to teach us about life on earth. In a powerful way, they urge us to stop and reflect on our human experience, God’s universe and his goodness to us in a world mired in sin.

As we read a broad range of poetry, both secular and sacred, we will be challenged to look at ourselves and God’s world with fresh perspectives. Our ability to appreciate the Psalms and hymnody will also be enhanced by concerted attention to all kinds of poems. Most importantly, perhaps, we will learn to pause in our hectic lives in order to take in the beauty and wonder of God’s creation.[1]

[1] This essay is reprinted from Jeremy W. Johnston, All Things New: Essays on Christianity, culture & the arts (Kitchener: Joshua Press, 2018), 59 – 61. 

Medieval monks spent a lot of their time labouring and serving, often at lowly and humble chores. Based on the monks’ talents and aptitudes, they were assigned jobs like washing, food preparation, cleaning, farming, scribing, carpentry, masonry, tending to the sick, etc. We can learn from our medieval brothers how to manage our responsibilities and how to glorify God in the small tasks of day-to-day living. In Brother Lawrence’s book, The Practice of the Presence of God, the 17th-century monk encourages us both to glorify God and know his presence while doing the most menial of tasks like mopping the floor or peeling potatoes!
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One of the ways monks made the most of their time was augmenting their daily chores with the honing and development of other valuable skills. Since the collapse of Roman civilization, monks preserved and mastered expertise in a variety of areas. For example, monks practiced reading and writing, singing, book-binding, brewing beers, wine-making, medicine and herbology, gardening, engineering, carpentry, teaching, and a host of other activities. Although many monastic orders left little time for leisure, some of the jobs assigned to monks might be considered hobbies by today’s standards.

So what do hobbies have to do with the Christian faith? Recently during an online Q&A session for 2020 Together For the Gospel conference, Al Mohler spoke about needing a “theology of leisure” and how Christians can “glorify God with our hobbies.” Mohler’s statements may have shocked some Christians, especially dyed-in-the-wool evangelicals. How can hobbies advance the Kingdom of God? Why waste time on hobbies when we should be evangelizing? We need to be careful about how we “redeem the time” God has given to us (Ephesians 5:16). The Bible reminds us often how fleeting our lives are (see, for example, Psalm 90:12; 144:4; James 4:13-17; 1 Peter 1:24). But evangelism is not our primary function as Christians: glorifying God is. The classic catechism question—what is the chief end of man—is answered with “to glorify God and to enjoy him forever.”[1] Part of glorifying God—making his greatness known—is telling others about Jesus and the Good News. During this time of COVID-19 lockdown, there are new and exciting ways to share the gospel and evangelize (see, for example, the TGC article “10 Simple Ways to Evangelize During a Pandemic”)[2] We also have more time with family, which means more opportunities to disciple your kids in Christ and lead your family in home worship.[3]

But we also have more time for hobbies.

​Activities like gardening, photography, poetry, playing an instrument, learning a second language, sewing, wood-working, painting, drawing, blogging, composing, and cooking (just to name a few). How can our hobbies glorify God?

To help answer that question, I turn to young David on the run from King Saul. I have often wondered what David did in the Cave of Adullam or in the wilderness. What did he do with the extra time he had while in forced “isolation” and “social distancing” as King Saul relentlessly hunted him? One thing is for sure: he wrote poems. We wouldn’t usually call the psalms of David a product of mere “hobby,” but that is what they were. The lyrics that appear in the Book of Psalms are uniquely inspired by the Holy Spirit, but the skill of writing poems is perhaps talent that David honed while passing the time as a shepherd to his father’s sheep. Like playing the harp, poetry was one of the ways David used his gifts. Often the Lord uses our gifts and abilities not only for our enjoyment but also as a means to bless and minister to others. For example, the guitar or piano hobbyist ends up accompanying worship music; the poet hobbyist becomes a hymn writer; the hobby baker ends up blessing others with hospitality; the dabbler in languages becomes a missionary or translator… These sorts of applications aren’t needed to justify hobbies, but who knows what the Lord will do with the gifts, talents, and skills honed while practicing a hobby? ​

Even in more focused ways, the Lord using our hobbies to teach us to be patient, or more loving, or humble, or sacrificial. He may use our hobbies to draw us closer to him, as Brother Lawrence writes: “God has many ways of drawing us to Himself.”[4]
Perhaps most importantly, using our gifts and abilities well glorifies the One who made you. You are not a cosmic fluke, but a carefully designed person made in the image of God. God created you with unique and individual gifts and abilities. He did not bless you with artistic skills, for example, to not use or hone that skill! Working at your hobbies is really about stewarding the gifts—and now time—that God has given to you.

The point is, don't underestimate hobbies. It’s an unbiblical view that “God’s business” is limited to evangelism, Sunday school, and sermons. As essential as these activities are, our God is much bigger than that. Devaluing seemingly “unspiritual work” often leads us to the wrong idea that there is a separation between “church life” and “everyday life.” In truth, there’s just life. We live every moment “coram Deo,” that is, before the face of God.

I recently heard this quotation from Charles Simeon, who writes that “there are but two lessons for Christians to learn: the one is, to enjoy God in everything; the other is, to enjoy everything in God.” Take some time, fellows monks, and develop an enjoyable skill and talent that has been collecting dust on the shelves of your minds and hearts. Whatever you do, do all for the glory of God.

“He is more than an unmoved mover. He is moved by compassion—by love—he wept!”

A Series of Blogs on Surviving and Thriving During Coronavirus Lockdown

Before Christ awakens our soul to a new life in him, we may be quite content with our lives. We feel as though we are kings of our circumstances, and we believe that we are free to live and do as we please. In truth, we are bound by the world, our flesh, and the evil one. Although we “rule” a space no bigger than a nutshell, we count ourselves a “king of infinite space.” This line (and the title of this sonnet) comes from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, where Hamlet states that, like us, he would be content to be king of a trouble-free kingdom, even if it’s as small as a nutshell.

Yet, thankfully, Christ doesn’t leave us to our false comforts and our delusions of kingship… he unravels a person’s life, shatters our crowns, and breaks our scepters. In her book, The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert, Rosaria Butterfield calls her conversion to Christianity a “train-wreck”[1] as she describes how Christ dramatically upended her life, her career, and her relationships. The metaphor is apt—Christ literally breaks into our lives, shattering our old ways of doing things and our old ways of thinking about things. Although an incalculable blessing, being “born again” is as dramatic as physical birth. When we encounter God, we meet the true King of Infinite Space. This poem is meant to capture this conversion experience.

[1] Rosaria Butterfield, The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert (Pittsburgh: Crown & Covenant, 2012), 25.

I travelled to Great Britain a few years ago with my wife. On our first day exploring the sprawling city of London, we came upon St. Paul’s Cathedral. The early 18th century cathedral is an architectural masterpiece designed by Christopher Wren; however, what we found when we went inside was no mere monument to a man’s creative and engineering genius. We found a place to worship God. I wrote this poem describing our experience attending an evensong service at St. Paul’s.
 
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​Evensong at St. Paul’s
Jeremy W. Johnston
 
I.
 
In a city of beautiful buildings, here is another,
yet unlike any other: St. Paul’s.
We walk, we gaze, we wonder
is there time?--
The evening is here. Day is closing for the day.
 
But then a sign
 
calls us—a literal sign—invites us to
Evensong.
 
We climb up stone steps, enter in.
Even the small doors seem massive doors,
weighty tomes hanging on brass hinges
that shut out distractions, shut in the distracted.
The walking and talking and busyness and bustle all
become strangely dim. Silence becomes our song.
We are submerged into the stunning stillness.
So much larger on the inside.
 
Look up, can’t help but look up—in life we need to look up more.
A twilight, sky-like ceiling and world-like walls, so vast yet still too small.
Even here is too finite for the infinite to
dwell.
This man-made place for the maker of man:
the best we can do—this! is barely a droplet of dew.
 
Outside, we’re wanderers in this city, tourists in town, set apart, outsiders.
We’re aliens in—but not of—this urban place.
But in here, inside,
We’re now in and a part of this sacred space.
 
II.
 
The ancientness. The art. The Faith. I belong here.
Still I feel painfully exposed and alone.
 
It’s humbling to be so small for this brief hour.
God seems so distant here because he is echoed everywhere.
Indeed, we are separated by an infinite divide
 
but we begin to chant, and recite, and sing, and hear of the One
who fills the boundless chasm, who spans the ever-expanding space.
Holy words for Holy God; carefully prepared words,
some ancient, some old, some uttered soft, some spoken bold.
Haunting voices rising up to darkness and mystery--
my ears, my neck, my mind, my skin—I feel the sound of truth
surrounding
immersing me, gently washing over me like the very breath of God.
Words so right and real; this place, so here and now.
 
God’s beauty is seen, the goodness of the Good News is heard--
every note, every utterance, every square inch alludes
to his wonder, his transcendence, his descent, his ascent, his nearness,
his farness.
 
This is Evensong. This evening service of prayers, Psalms, and singing
a symbol of unity, harmony
a paradox of the near farness of God.
 
III.

Liturgy, ritual, words recited, words sung--
 
We’re reminded that this is a religion as well as a relationship.
            He is Creator, we are created. We are together, we are alone.
This is not yet heaven, though it is heaven that this hour harkens us to see.
 
So, despite the wonder, so much to look at, too much to take in,
I still find myself on this earth. My feet still feel the floor.
My body is still a body, pulled down by gravity of the world
and worldliness.
So the tide begins to rise, the tide of blood, muscle, and bone rises
over my mind, my soul.
My weary traveller’s bones—the night of flying, the day of walking,
the hunger for seeing, the desire for doing, and the peace
of this place--
overtake me. My lids slip down beneath the surface,
over my eyes,
like the not-so-watchful three in the Garden of Gethsemane.
 
This edifice, this service, my effort to worship
One who exceeds imagination.
 
We’re always reaching up, but you, O God,
must always lift us up.
 
And you do.
 
 ©2020

Art doesn’t presume to be the thing that it depicts. A photo of a tree isn’t a tree and a portrait of a woman isn’t a woman. Opera, however, seems to embrace fully the fact that it isn’t real—it’s wholeheartedly and unabashedly unrealistic. Take, for example, the prolonged operatic death scene: for ten minutes the heroine sings a solo—called an aria—with tremendous passion and enthusiasm, all the while she is dying. The treacherous and mortal wound is inflicted, the heroine is certain to die, yet she sings… and sings… and sings. To many people, this makes opera seem very silly indeed. To others, it may seem silly but, like the emperor and his new “clothes,” they pretend it’s profound but don’t know why. Opera, however, is profound and powerful precisely because it is unrealistic.  Opera challenges the listener to exercise their full imaginations. Audiences need to exert actively a “willing suspension of disbelief” while viewing the operatic performance.[2] Unlike a modern cinematic Imax or 4-D virtual experience, which seeks to trick the audience into thinking they are actually immersed in an experience through eye-popping visual effects, immersive surround-sound and vibrating chairs, the audience of opera is never tricked into thinking the events on the stage are real. Instead of portraying realism, opera attempts to reflect “reality” by means of symbolism. The key to enjoying good opera is to realize that it attempts to function symbolically as “total art.” Opera is “total art” because it capitalizes on all of the resources of nearly every artistic form; at its disposal opera has orchestral and vocal music, poetry and drama, dance, choreography, and a host of visual arts—painted backdrops, sculptures, costumes, set pieces and props—all to convey symbolic meaning. The renowned musicologist, Aaron Copland, writes, “One must be willing to allow that symbolic things mirror realities and sometimes provide greater esthetic pleasure than the merely realistic. The opera house is a good place in which to find these symbolic pleasures.”[3]

Opera also amplifies the human experience for all to hear and see. The power of the prolonged death sequence, for example, is that it slows down and magnifies a heartrending moment in time, allowing the audience to grasp the full weight of emotional and psychological trauma that the dying victim is enduring. The audience gets to witness the feelings of deep betrayal, the impending sense of finality and the reality that one’s hopes will remain unfulfilled. This is what good opera typically does well: enlarging and fully displaying the human emotional and psychological experience for all to see, hear and feel. Humanity’s greatness and folly, triumph and tragedy are showcased with the full weight of an operatic masterpiece. Opera presents a deeper insight into reality, which a realistic “death” would fail to do. In a realistic portrayal, if you blink, you miss it; opera doesn’t allow the audience to miss anything. So good opera, then, is profoundly real yet not realistic—real in its attempt to cause the audience to pause, reflect and respond to the magnified spectacle of human triumph and tragedy.

Christians can gain a great deal of insight into the human experience—the depth of human depravity and folly, the extent of human pride, and the beauty of love and sacrifice—all laid out and magnified before them on the opera stage. But learning to appreciate opera may also help Christians to slow down and better understand what God is doing in their own lives. So often, we rush through life without sufficient reflection or deep consideration of what God is doing or saying. Too often in our Bible readings we zoom through the text and sometimes miss the wonderful truths he has for us in his Word. Take, for example, Mary’s Magnificat recorded in Luke. Robert C. Tannehill in his essay, “The Magnificat as Poem,” points out that the narrative flow in Luke’s gospel is seemingly interrupted by Mary’s song of praise (Luke 1:46-55). This interjection, Tannehill argues, is intentionally designed to cause readers to pause and reflect on the magnificent events that have just occurred in the story so far. He writes, "the Magnificat is like an aria in opera. The artistic conventions of opera allow the composer to stop the action at any point so that, through a poetic and musical development exceeding the possibilities of ordinary life, a deeper awareness of what is happening may be achieved. A similar deep participation in the meaning of an event is made possible by the placement of this poem in Luke’s narrative."[4]

​Like an aria in an opera, Mary’s hymn slows the narrative down allowing readers to truly reflect on what is transpiring in Luke chapter 1. Mary’s song literally magnifies the moment—the pivotal moment in history, the incarnation—by putting a spotlight on what God has done and will do, and like an operatic aria, amplifies Mary’s emotional, psychological and spiritual response for all to see and hear. In so doing, the Magnificat invites the reader, like an audience at the opera, to reflect and respond with Mary in her praise of her Saviour and her God. Opera, like Mary’s “Magnificat,” can teach us to slow down and take in all that we are seeing and hearing on the stage, in life and in the Word.

Not all opera is good opera. As one opera aficionado pointed out to me, some operas are merely vehicles for narcissistic soloists seeking self-glorification.[5] Nevertheless, Christians can learn to appreciate and enjoy opera and benefit from deeper insights into the human experience as well as be encouraged to pause and reflect on the marvellous work of God in our lives, day to day and moment by moment.

Endnotes

[1] Originally published in Barnabas, Vol. 10, No. 3 (Summer 2018): 20.

[2] The phrase, “willing suspension of disbelief” comes from Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s Biographia Literaria (1817)
Chapter XIV, and has been wildly applied to works of poetry, theatre and opera to mean an audience’s willingness to exercise an imaginative and poetic faith in the work of art, believing that the events are real and deciding not to “see” the stage, actors or set so as to enter into and experience the performance more fully. 

[3] Aaron Copland, What to Listen for in Music. Penguin Putnam, 2011, p.185.

[4] Robert C. Tannehill, “The Magnificat as Poem.” Journal of Biblical Literature 93, no. 2 (1974): 265

[5] This opera aficionado is my dear friend Gordon Vanderwoude.

With the restriction on group gatherings, many saints are now worshipping God at home. Although worshipping at home is no substitute for meeting with the local church, under the current circumstances, it has become our “new normal.” The challenge is that many Christians have never planned or led a worship service before. I have been a dad for over twenty years, and during those years, I have led many times of family worship of one kind or another. I have also had the privilege of leading congregational worship. Easing into our present “new normal” of worship-at-home was fairly natural for our family and for me. But it occurred to me that it might be helpful for me to share some tips that we have learned along the way. I hope this will be of some use to you during the COVID-19 lock-down!
​

1. Be intentional with family worship. This means taking time to plan out your “order of service” and setting a reasonable start time. Get everyone out of their jammies and dressed. Invite them to come with their Bibles and their church bags! Be sure to let your family know in advance that the “event” is happening. Make sure your spouse and older children are onboard as cheerleaders as well. You are not “playing church.” Rather, you are coming together as a family to do the serious business of worshipping the Lord.
2. In terms of planning your service, take cues from your regular church service. Adapt as much as you can to be as familiar as possible during your homemade version. Key elements should include prayer, singing, and the reading of the word. Listening to or watching a sermon is also essential (more on that below).
3. Involve your children. Depending on their ages and abilities, have your kids participate in prayer or the reading of scripture. Because your worship at home is less formal, you also have the opportunity to be more interactive. Ask questions and encourage your children to ask questions. If your children play an instrument, then have them accompany your family during the singing. Singing together is an essential aspect of the corporate worship experience. Below I have listed ideas if you are on your own as well as some ideas of how to lead singing if you aren't musically inclined.
4. Keep your service short. Your service should be long enough to be substantial, but not so long that the experience is torture for your kids, especially younger ones. Our regular congregational services are about 90 minutes long, so I ensure that the non-preaching components of our home service are around 20 minutes long (or less).
5. If your church Livestreams a message or pre-records one, incorporate this online message into your at-home worship service. It is encouraging to see and hear your own local “under-shepherd” preach the word. Although there are fantastic sermons available online by well-known preachers, none of those men are caretakers of your soul or overseers of the souls of your family (Hebrews 13:17). If, however, your local congregation isn’t broadcasting a sermon, then tap into a sermon from another sister church via Facebook, YouTube, Sermon Audio, etc..  Depending on your comfort level, an alternative to listening to a short online sermon is to lead your family through a short reflective devotional based on a text from the Word. 
6. Choose a place in your home that is both comfortable and functional. Be sure to set up your mini-service in advance, making sure there are enough seats, the computer or television can be viewed by everyone, hymns have been bookmarked or printed off, all Internet links work, and the sound is set to the right level.
7. If you are at home alone, then I encourage you to still plan a service for Sunday morning. Read the scripture passages out loud and sing along with the YouTube choirs! Participate in a Livestreaming event if possible via Facebook or other streaming platforms so that you can “virtually” experience the community of Christ. Better yet, get on the phone with someone else who may be on their own; pray together, encourage each other, sing together, and read to one another.

What we have been doing during our home services:

Scripture

• We read a Call to Worship (a brief passage or short Psalm that calls us to praise and worship our Awesome God); this morning, we used Psalm 92:1 – 4. I also ask my children to read a relevant complementary passage (e.g., a Psalm or Old Testament reading) as well as the core sermon text (if known). I also select a benediction text to close the "service" such as Ephesians 3:20 - 21, Colossians 3:15 - 17, 2 Thessalonians 3:16, Hebrews 13:20-21, among others. As mentioned above, engage your family by asking questions about the readings and encourage your children to ask questions as well. Make this time interactive!

Singing

• I plan to sing an Opening Hymn that is stirring, God-centric, sing-able, and well known to the family. This helps to open the lungs, fill the room with voices, and focus our attention on the One we are worshipping. Hymns like “A Mighty Fortress” or “O God, Our Help” or “Jesus Shall Reign” work for us and are topically relevant to praise our unchangeable God during this time of great change! I usually aim for three songs or hymns in total. I am blessed that one of our church pianists is my son, so we have our own accompanist. I also have a stack of hymnals on hand. For those who are musically challenged or are on your own, there are many online hymns and songs with instruments, choirs, and lyrics to help round out your own voices. Be sure to test out the video in advance to ensure the version is the tune you know and that it’s sing-able for a group (as opposed to a stylized version sung by a professional soloist or a daunting version accompanied by a pipe organ and classically trained choristers).

Prayer

• Allot times for prayer throughout your service. This could include opening prayers, praying after and about the Scripture readings, and a slightly longer “pastoral-like” prayer, praying for the needs of the family, the church, neighbours, and the world. Worshipping at home also allows you the opportunity to gather prayer requests from your family members and to pray specifically for them. 
• I also briefly and intermittently provide commentary on the passages, hymns, and prayers to provide continuity or “narrative flow” to the service, helping the family see how every element connects and builds towards the sermon (if topic and text are known).

​Conclusion
Family worship can come in multiple forms. It is less formal than a congregational worship service but more formal than gathering for a game of Monopoly. Find the right balance. Your family should feel at home, but they should also be aware that they are gathering to worship a Holy God. Your service should be delightful but also serious. May the Lord bless you as you seek to honour him in your homes!
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