Part 1: The Inner Gaze
For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. –Romans 8:19
The challenge of a worship leader is to create excellent music while providing an atmosphere in which people turn their inner gaze to God. He or she can choose to do one or the other—to bring people to worship while making bad music, or to make amazing music that brings the listener’s attention only to him or herself or some other distraction, but the real challenge is to do both simultaneously. Yet another challenge is sticking with something, whether it’s a vision, a commitment, a community, or a journey, through all the ups and downs. Both of these are part of Dave Fife’s life. They are his life. As the longest member on Greater Chicago Church’s (GCC’s) staff since he first began to lead worship in 1997 and having been part of one of the original churches that became GCC since he was a child, Dave is on this adventure for the long haul.
Dave grew up in Oak Park, and as he puts it: “Ministry runs in my family.” In fact, he is the fifth generation involved in Christian ministry. His own father, Wayne Fife, became pastor of Christ the King Church when Dave was in high school. He maintained that position until Christ the King joined with the Vineyard Oak Park church plant that began in 1997, which later became GCC.
In addition to ministry, music has been a common theme in Dave’s personal history. He fondly, albeit comically, recalls being part of the Fife Family Singers. “We would get up every special service and do ‘our thing.’ I just remember that not being ‘my thing…’ I actually did play music, trumpet and piano during my high school years, but I was much more into sports.”
After graduating from Oak Park River Forest high school, Dave left Illinois for Arkansas, where he went to participate in Youth with a Mission’s (YWAM’s) Discipleship Training School (DTS) and School of Evangelism (SOE). Sometime around then, before he moved out of state, Dave’s picked up the guitar and began to learn the instrument for the first time, foreshadowing the unfolding of his destiny. “My dad introduced me.” And when Dave headed to Arkansas for the DTS, he was in good company. “It seemed like half the guys played guitar, and that was the big draw for me. I played a few basic chords, some strumming patterns. So that was kind of the beginning of playing guitar and singing, but I didn’t start leading worship until the second phase of my YWAM.”
It is strange how life’s most significant moments, as small as they might be as they are happening, sear themselves in your mind–how you know even as you are experiencing something that you will never forget it. Dave continues, “I remember sitting on the porch of my dorm and the leader of my SOE came and asked me about leading the worship for our school. I knew only a couple chords and a few songs, but it seemed like it was meant to be. I was nervous, but it felt really natural. It was more acoustic so it really enabled me to find my own technique of playing the guitar and singing at the same time. I was able to hold my own in that as well as leading other people.”
After YWAM, Dave went to Montana, near Glacier National Park, where he continued stepping into his future. Dave describes, “The first year was training, a mix between boot camp and Bible school, and then they asked me to stay on staff for two years…” The time passed quickly, and soon, Dave explains, “I was out in Montana and coming to the end of my second year. I was at a crossroads, part of me wanted me to stay in Montana and then another option was to come back to Chicago.” Dave came home.
Dave’s first Sunday back in Oak Park happened to be the first day of the merger of Christ the King and the Oak Park Vineyard in 1997. “I came back for a month or two break after my second year [in Montana]. I had a youth pastor position offered in southern Illinois, but during my two months here there were several confirmations that seemed like they were from God that spoke to my staying here. The former worship leader of the Vineyard church plant was already planning on moving so he and Dave Frederick identified me and asked if I wanted to take on the leadership role.”
“[Coming back] was certainly a transition point. It was a little letdown getting back into the routine of life back here–ministry, training, leading songs, leading worships–after being away for four or five years. And leading worship was my first time working with a band, so that was a whole new experience. It was cool to enter that realm of working with people from all different places. For a while I did that as a lay leader, and I did carpentry full time. But eventually it became pretty evident that this was becoming more of a job, so they brought me on as part time staff somewhere around 1999 or 2000.”
Part 2: The Perfect Pose
I can’t hear you
But I feel the things you say
I can’t see you
But I see what’s in my way
Now I’m floatin’
Cause I’m not tied
to the ground — Neil Young, “I’m the Ocean”
Dave’s job is to do what he loves, which is to lead people as they worship God and to assist others as they learn how to lead people to worship God. To me, it sounds ideal: he gets to do his thing—create his art—which is at once a corporate experience and an expression of his love for God. During those times on stage, he is in one sacred moment creating art, worshiping God, and connecting with other humans who he is also helping worship God. How good can it get? “I don’t have any questions about what I am doing in any way, because it does align with my core passions as an individual, and having adequate time to give to it is a real privilege. I love playing music, I love leading worship, I love leading other musicians, I love writing songs, so that being what I get paid to do is pretty cool. But I can honestly say that’s not why I got into it. I can say I would still want to do this even if I had to go back to carpentry.”
Dave leads worships and he trains musicians to lead worship. However, a few years ago, a visiting couple doing ministry within the church told Dave that he would begin to document our church’s worship music and that it would be disseminated far and wide. Since then, Dave and the church leadership have founded Greater Chicago Music and recorded two albums, The Hiding Place, by Jess Smiley andGlimpse, featuring a number of church artists… Which leads us to now, as the third album, Greater Things, becomes available. This latest release is a compilation of original songs that have become part of GCC community worship over the last year—mostly songs by Dave Fife and Heather Treadway, along with a couple by GCC musicians Trevor Parker and John Fancher.
Part3: The Rising Lotus
Hope is the thing with feathers–
That perches in the soul–
And sings the tune without the words–
And never stops– at all– –Emily Dickinson, “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers”
Dave loves bringing musicians in to join him in the worship experience, even if they do not share his faith or his own motives for being a worship leader… “I am excited to work with them if they are open, if they are hungry, if they really connect with why we are here, if they are willing to engage with God on some level. You’ve got people who have years of experience with church and people who don’t, and it seems like we have been able to make a place for both. I think the music is the key element, the common thread that brings everyone together. Typically, musicians don’t sing. I think musicians feel the music, they feel the power of our praise through the music and that’s what they engage with. Even if they aren’t engaging with the words, they are engaging with the power of the music. There are a couple guys in worship who have been around for years. Some are attracted to our church because of the music; they don’t necessarily pay attention to all the lyrics.”
Recently, however, Dave has been experiencing a new artistic endeavor in which lyrics also play a central role. In what sounds like an Old Testament-in-the-desert-with-Moses-manna-like experience that began in spring of 2010, Dave has been writing original worship songs with Arts Pastor Heather Treadway. Dave is an experienced songwriter, having composed and published beautiful worship songs that have been recorded on Vineyard albums and sung in other churches, but this new method of songwriting has been a strange phenomenon for both him and Heather. She will write the lyrics, in huge chunks of words at a time, and he will, upon receiving them—often in the unlikely form of emails or text messages—almost immediately write the music for those lyrics.
Dave explains, “The first song [for which this happened] was ‘Radical Love.’ It was the first time I have ever had that experience where someone has sent me a full song in lyrics, and within 20 or 30 minutes I had the whole structure of melody and chords. It was one of those times where I thought, ‘What the heck just happened? That was not normal.’” And the pattern continued… “Heather started sending me lyrics on a consistent basis, and every time I received this download of melody. Some songs weren’t as solid in song structure, but there have been quite a few songs that are just finished, complete—written in the moment with me laying down music. It has been a whole new experience for me in songwriting.”
Having personally participated in worship during which we sing these very songs, I can say they are haunting and interesting and thought-provoking and individual and passionately worshipful. In Dave’s words, “Some songs out there lack creative elements from a musical standpoint. They all start to sound alike. The challenge for us as worship songwriters is to continue to stretch ourselves musically and lyrically, and Heather and I have found that dynamic.”
Dave and his worship band brought these songs to life for posterity when they recorded the live album, Greater Things, at the stained glass, grey-stone-walled house of worship that has been the home of GCC. “As Heather and I started just busting out song after song, I began to think this could be the next album. This could be meant to be. I really believe timing is everything when it comes to this sort of stuff. I am really glad we didn’t try to do this sooner because these songs wouldn’t exist. Working with Heather has been amazing—having her send me these incredible lyrics and then being able to bring music to it. Her lyrics bring something new out of me every time which is fun. There are melodies that have come out of me that I didn’t know were there, and that wouldn’t have come out of me with my own lyrics. There is something special about collaborating.”
It was only a little over a year ago that this joint artistic process began, and since then Dave compiled the songs and orchestrated the live congregational worship service recording of them. “Some worship albums are just made up of corporate worship songs that don’t necessarily tie into each other musically or thematically.” That is not the case with this album—it is intentional. “I worked with Daniel Larson behind the scenes on song order and arrangement. The surprising thing about this album is that it takes you on that journey as a whole and each song is a journey in itself as well. I am delighted how much the songs have tied together as an album which isn’t something I initially tried to make happen.” The band practiced the music together for a month or more in advance, the list of songs were sent out to the registered attendees before the live recording so that they could familiarize themselves with what was going to be sung, and some two hundred people attended the final night.
Other musicians within the church have been experiencing this explosion of creativity. The two songs on the album that are not by Dave and Heather reflect this. One is a popular GCC worship song by John Fancher of Johnny and the Beloveds, and the other is a songwriting collaboration of Heather [Treadway], John [Fancher], and Trevor Parker. Nevertheless, almost all of the songs were already familiar to the live audience; they are regularly sung during GCC worship. “Being able to lay all the songs together in a corporate setting and… distribute it through the product itself has become my preferred way of recording. I have done the studio approach where you layer each part, each instrument, each vocal—one by one—but this [recording process] was a lot of fun… This was that much more enjoyable for me from a recording standpoint, and I think the dynamics of the song were enhanced in a way that may not have come into play in the straight-up studio approach because we had that team dynamic chemistry happening.”
At last, as the separate worship and arts groups have been joining hands within our church, I was curious how and where Dave saw himself fitting in. “As an artist, as a musician, I identify more as a worship leader than just a performing artist. I think there are people who can do both worlds and I know that is a part of who we [as a church] are…What do I really feel called to? Right now at least I really feel called to the church in the music realm and worship leading. I doesn’t mean I can’t play music in the bars sometimes or don’t want to, but I think my primary role right now is to be a worship leader within my gifting of music and songwriting. But there is still that balance as a worship team that we are not here for ourselves but to serve. I think it’s okay to be blessed and it’s ok to expect that as we come together. I think God likes to fill us up and provide us life on a personal level. Less is more is a pretty popular phrase with us in worship and music… Something that we learn from each other is that sensitivity to what’s happening in the moment. We try to touch on the most spiritual realm.”
Dave is following his path without regrets, without second thoughts, without longing looks over his shoulder, even as the road ahead remains not entirely visible. He is walking ahead, onward and upward into the light. He is being the person he was made to be.
Part 1: The Real Chicagoan
Some artists wear their artistic identity like a scarlet A, albeit proudly. Some wear certain clothes and hang out at certain coffee shops just to make sure people know who they are. Some don’t. Some may know they are artists somewhere inside even though the rest of the world has no clue. Perhaps, as in Diane’s case, their identity is already so tied to other things (e.g. “she’s a go-getter in city government”) that people would assume that is the extent of who they are. But every human has the capacity for infinite creativity, no matter how hidden. What we see of another person is so little of who they really are–who they are in our mind is the tip of the massive iceberg that’s underside can reach miles down into the ocean.
In the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico there are dark pools of water called ‘cenotes’ that you can find hidden in the jungle or associated with Mayan ruins. The cenotes are sinkholes that connect to much deeper underwater caverns–entire river systems under the rocky surface. Diane is like a cenote. She seems like a really fun place to go for an afternoon swim (no inappropriate connotation intended), and then you realize there is a whole world you could explore with some snorkeling or scuba equipment, a world that could bring you back to the surface far away from where you began, perhaps in the middle of some ancient Mayan temple. But she is so modest and unassuming, you may never get the chance.
More than anyone I have talked to in a long time, Diane is from Chicago. The city’s blood runs through her veins like the hum of the highways and the bustle of the pedestrians and the wind through the skyscrapers. She and her mother and grandmother lived together in Hyde Park, and her mother taught in the public schools. Besides living in Iowa for a couple of years during college and some travels, Diane has spent her life in various corners of this big city, getting to know its various nooks while serving the people and working to make it a better place for some two decades of her adult life.
After going through the Chicago Public School system on the south side in settings where she was almost always a minority as a Caucasian, Diane went to Drake University in Des Moines, IA, a school where everyone was white. Before applying to colleges, however, Diane had the idea that she could get a good minority scholarship since she had always considered herself a minority, the definition being, “when there are less of you than someone else.” The push to go to Drake had come from Diane’s mother’s desire to expose her to a different social environment. But after two years at Drake, Diane was done: “I lasted for two years; it was too much culture shock for me.”
When she came back to Chicago to finish up her college education, Diane’s boyfriend at the time helped her apply for an internship with Mayor Daley’s Green Streets Program, where she was given more responsibility than she bargained for. From there, she was propelled through various departments of Chicago government, from the Mayor’s Department to the Environmental Department to the Department of Streets and Sanitation (“dees, dems, and dose kind of guys”) to the Budget Department. At some point, one of Diane’s bosses, someone who truly cared about her happiness and future success, recommended that she take the time to get a graduate degree. “She said, ‘you need to go to grad school. It’s never going to get easier.’ So I got my Master’s of Public Service at DePaul night school. To be honest, I really wanted to do public policy, but none of the public policy programs did part time… When I got my degree, I got a job in the budget office.” Fortuitously, for her job with the grants program in the budget office, she would “screen the grants and get them approved,” a process that led her to Heather Treadway, who happened to be seeking grants for the Cultural Affairs Department. Diane and Heather would eventually team up to begin actively pursuing a church community together.
Part 2: The Seeker
Diane had not been interested in Christianity or faith in past years, but that was meant to change. “That was when God was showing up in my life ferociously. I started asking questions.” While looking for a new housing situation and ending up with a Jewish yoga teacher in Bucktown she had not known previously, Diane became cognizant of God’s presence. “I wasn’t in that God zone yet, but it was that first time of being fully aware of the higher power telling me everything was under control. That’s where the awareness of who God was really started stirring in my life.”
Diane ended up becoming great friends with her yoga teacher roommate. “I was asking questions, and she definitely asked questions, and she encouraged me to go to a psychic. On my way to see Joriann the Coffee Psychic, I heard this voice in my head that said, ‘You know she’s gonna tell you you’re psychic,’ and I thought, ‘huh, that’s really weird.’ Of course I never thought of myself that way before… Sure enough, she said, ‘You know you’re a psychic?'”
Over the next months, and Diane’s first and second psychic experiences (the second one being the last), she says that light and dark were battling for her. While trying to meditate and empty her mind of thought one day, she threw up a question about a romantic relationship in her life at the time. She got a very clear answer back, which took her by surprise. “I did this meditation thing, and I heard the universe speaking to me. And then I decided, well I guess God created the universe. If the universe answered me and I believe God created the universe, does that mean God spoke to me?” After thinking about it more, Diane began to wonder, “Why wouldn’t he speak to us? Are there other people who think God would speak to us?” And so she determined, “I need to figure this out. I need to find people who think God would speak to them. And I found someone [Heather] who had a framework for it, which helped.”
A friend had given Diane the gift of visiting a psychic again (the second time), and though she had mixed feelings about it by that point, she decided she would go. Heather tried to convince her otherwise, but in the end, Diane went. But the power of darkness over her life had already lifted. “I have no idea what the psychic told me. God already had me. I was on this other path already.” By the end of the session, the psychic asked if Diane had questions, and after a distracted pause, Diane said yes. She continued, “I was thinking about joining the youth group at church. Do you think I should do that?” Recognizing Diane was, at best, only vaguely engaged in the experience, the psychic said, “Yes, that is exactly what you should do.” And in Diane’s words, “The dark was defeated at that point.”
Part 3: The Finder
Back at work, Diane had been put on a short list of people to lose her job, but for no clear reasons. “I felt like the only thing I really had was my reputation. I was someone who got stuff done in city government, and this guy ruined my reputation.” During that period of insecurity, Diane felt God telling her, “It’s not even about your reputation, it’s about me.” And that was a turning point for Diane, a time when she would begin to concretely rely on God’s provision. With her identity as a city government go-getter in question, she realized that God wanted her entirely, underwater cave system and all.
“I was feeling scared and financially challenged, and then I told God I would really like to go to Europe before I ever get married. I asked, ‘Can you do that God? Can you get me a free trip to Europe?'” The next week, Diane’s friend called and asked if she would like to come as her guest to Amsterdam and London, first class.
Meanwhile, another friend got Diane’s Chicago dream job at the library. I kept wondering, “Why did our boss recommend her and not me? I was so jealous. In my mind, that job was meant for me.” A year later, “I was ‘pressing in,’ saying [to God] I need a different job.” She felt God telling her, “Just wait, I am preparing it for you.” And sure enough, “My girlfriend who had the job ended up moving, and I applied for it and got the job.”
God’s presence was becoming undeniable for Diane in other areas too. She describes it this way: “I had just started the job [she had been wanting for so long], and God was clearly moving in my life, kind of in crazy ways.” Someone close told her, “I just have this feeling that the guy who is meant for you is going to drop out of nowhere.” Not long after, it was Thanksgiving morning, and Diane was taking the bus to her mother’s house. “I was for some reason saying I was so tired of being single. ‘I am ready for whatever you bring me, but just bring it on.’ And God said, ‘He’s gonna be cute too.'”
A few days before, Diane’s mother had called and told her that a cousin was bringing a friend for the holiday dinner, which was a rare occurrence since her grandmother was uncomfortable with strangers in the house, but Diane had not thought twice about it. After arriving at her mom’s house, “I am in the kitchen cooking, no makeup, wet hair… He walks into the house and we saw each other across the room.” You can imagine who he turned out to be–Diane’s future husband. “I heard God say he was gonna bring him, but I didn’t expect it to be three hours or less. It wasn’t love at first sight, but it was knowing at first sight.” God had also told her, “[This guy’s] gonna sit down and talk to you, and I really need you to be open.” When Mark arrived, he told Diane, “‘I feel like I need to tell you who I am,’ and I was ready.”
Diane continues, “On our second date, he was cooking dinner in my kitchen and he said, ‘This is weird, right? It feels like I have been here forever.'” Diane and Mark were married only months later, and have been together for a few years now. Though he has lived in Chicago for over twenty years, however, Diane still has not granted him Real Chicagoan status. According to Diane, she is willing to call him a Chicagoan if he can pass “the final test,” which would be to “get around the city on public transportation without any help.”
Part 4: The Artist
Diane continues to serve the city as the Director of Acquisitions of the Chicago Public Library, and at church she has been leading the Facilities Team, which is searching for a new worship location. Though Diane is exceptional at all her endeavors, her art has not played a prominent place in her work or any other public arena in the past. Perhaps this is, in part, because, as Diane describes it, “I always listen to others; I don’t speak up.” But recently, Diane says, “I put something on paper, and I shared it with people,” which is a bold step for someone who is afraid to speak up and feels like the artist inside has been hiding. This new venture took place after take she took a writing class through the Newberry Library .
But before that, three years ago, Diane joined an “Artist’s Way” group after a friend’s prompting. She explained that as a “completely repressed artist,” the experience “raised her awareness.” She found that sharing the class with the other participants who were also seeking to ’embark on their creative journeys’ had positive results: “being around the creativity helps breed the creativity.” And after 17 years working for the City of Chicago, she had realized that “city government doesn’t really breed creativity.” Very honestly and with profound self-awareness, Diane also admitted that she had experienced envy of others who were practicing and succeeding in their artistic endeavors, which was also an eye-opener. “If you ever experience jealousy [about art], look in the mirror. It means it’s something you wish you were doing.”
So Diane is a writer. In addition to Diane’s plans to write a mystery series, she says she has “a musical/play, maybe a tv series, and some chic lit books inside me somewhere as well.” I do not believe it is coincidence that timing has played such a profound role in Diane’s life. Everything has unfolded in a time and way that could not have been anticipated or manipulated by Diane herself. And this newest phase, of writing and being open to sharing her work, is no exception. Don’t underestimate the underside of this iceberg or where this cenote could take you.
Books Diane would recommend to the aspiring writer:
A Broom of One’s Own by Nancy Peacock
The Right to Write by Julla Cameron
Do I dare
Disturb the universe? — T. S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”
Heather lives surrounded by the English language—by words. She is enchanted by them and enchants with them. With words, she creates images, empowers people, builds cities in the mind, breaks down walls, devises blueprints, feeds and houses, worships, and prophesies. Words don’t escape her. In fact, they gravitate towards her and emanate from her.
It is this quality that makes her intimidating at times. Few people have such an intimacy with language and familiarity with the written word, past and present, and an ability to make connections and exhort you, while leaving you speechless.
Nevertheless, Heather claims, “I actually don’t define myself as an artist.” When I asked her about being a writer specifically, she said, “It’s hard for me in my genre to say I’m a writer, because I’m not published.” But the truth is that she has been writing poems since she was a child, such as poetry for friends and family about the mundane things in life, and she has filled hundreds of journals with her poems and other writings over the years. And these days, poems and songs, particularly spiritual ones, are coming to her at a faster, more natural rate than ever before.
Heather has had a good life. She was raised the only child of parents who loved her and raised her to be a conscientious, creative person. Her first memory of being introduced to poetry was in her grandmother’s upstairs library when she pulled a collection of T. S. Eliot’s poetry off the shelf, discovered “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” loved it, and subsequently snuck it home with her, afraid that it would not be deemed age-appropriate by her parents. Heather aspired to be the first female governor of Tennessee and ran government campaigns when she was younger. After going to Carson-Newman College in Tennessee for political science and literature, Heather moved to Washington, DC, to experience the political world. After a year there, she entered law school back in Tennessee, which had always been her dream, part of her plan to enter politics. But during the first semester, she realized, “I don’t want to practice law” and boldly dropped out, returning to her alma mater to work in the admissions office.
At long last, it was time to move to Chicago where Heather had been accepted into a master’s program in literature at Northwestern University and gotten a job for an illustrious political media firm. Chicago had been tempting Heather for a while, what with her fascination with metropolitan centers and general knowledge of the city, so she was excited to make the move. The rest is history. From there she worked various jobs, governmental and not-for-profit, helping the poor and supporting the arts, sometimes both at once, and slowly but surely fell in love with the old political, architectural, cultural, Midwestern crossroads that is Chicago.
Heather is someone who has kept her spiritual life and her professional life separate in past years. Both arenas have been full, fulfilling, and rewarding but she has had reservations about being labeled religious by those in her workplaces. I am just speculating here, but I assume she would sooner be called a Democrat, a vegetarian, a feminist, a dog person, or a Southerner. There’s baggage associated with Christian culture. I am not sure how conscious this decision has been for her, but I imagine it has become more difficult over the course of the past year, since she became a pastor, the Arts Pastor, a job which involves overseeing and increasing the various roles of art within and outside of the church.
Heather describes herself as, “bred, born, raised and educated in my home state. A Tennessee girl through and through, who bleeds orange.” As a Tennessean myself for a few formative years, it is rare to meet liberals like this one down there. The church-going, yes, that makes sense. The warmth, yes. But the obviously intelligent thoughtful well-spoken-ness and fearlessly political feminist persona, coupled with the serious Jesus-loving-ness, not so normal. Most friends from my high school in Tennessee were in one camp or the other—they were all very sweet, but they seemed to be either outspoken Baptists or conservative Presbyterians, or they were eager liberals with a strong desire to change the tides of racism and sexism, not only in Tennessee, but in the country and the world. The two characteristics were not commonly found in one person. Maybe this is why Heather has kept the two separate. How do sincere Christianity and impassioned but liberal political views coexist in one mind and one body?
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind. — Emily Dickinson, “Tell all the Truth but tell it slant”
It is hard for me to write about Heather, because she and her life seem more poetic than sentences and paragraphs. Words, yes, but the confines of grammar are too structured, not “slant” enough to describe her. Heather sees life in an odic, spiritual context. She is someone who has crazy things happen to her, but she is aware that they are happening enough to recognize and recall them later.
Case in point. A few weeks ago at church, Heather was worshiping. She describes, “I saw a great golden gate, the ‘golden gate of beautiful.’ I heard the Lord singing a song over his people, helping them call forth its opening: ‘Open wide, open wide, open wide.’” From this picture, Heather was inspired to write lyrical “spontaneous prose.” Her poem, “Beauty Gate,” begins,
“How beautiful the feet of those who have danced over sorrow and triumphed
How beautiful the withered hands outstretched, reaching out despite, in spite of”and ends:
“Open. She will open. Open wide the gate. Come open. Wider. She will open still.”
The words and message of the poem are powerful and moving in and of themselves, but Heather went on to tell me that after the service, she realized there were deep associations behind what she had written. After doing a little research she learned that, indeed, the “Golden Gate,” otherwise known as the “Gate Beautiful,” was a real gate, which not only figures prominently in Christian scripture, but still stands, though sealed with bricks, in Jerusalem as the oldest gate in the Old City Walls. It was through this gate that the “Divine Presence” used to appear according to Jewish tradition, and it is through this gate that he is to appear again once the Messiah returns. Moreover, it was through this gate that Jesus came on a donkey, worshipped by the very people who would soon allow him to be crucified on the day we commemorate with Palm Sunday. And the “Golden Gate” or “Gate Beautiful” is referenced in the New Testament when Peter and John heal the man “crippled from birth” who leaves them “walking and jumping, and praising God.”
It would seem that Heather’s picture or vision, whatever you want to call it, was about this very real historical structure she was not previously aware of. We have no proof that God transmitted that image which inspired that poem into her head, but the whole thing does seem coincidental. But from what I have heard about Heather’s life, experiences like these are far from uncommon. They seem to happen on a weekly basis.
As today writing after three days of rain
Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
And bowing not knowing to what. — W. S. Merwin, “For the Anniversary of My Death”
I knew that Heather had not always felt the nearness to God that seems so influential in her life now, so I asked her how this stage had come about. Sometime after she had relocated to Chicago, Heather was in Tennessee visiting. She explains, “I thought, I’ll just go to church with Mom and Dad since I didn’t have anything else to do.” She brought a book to read discreetly in the back row. There happened to be a charismatic speaker from Africa preaching the sermon that week, and sometime near the end of his message, he stopped and his tone changed, attracting Heather’s attention.
He looked around and said something like, “There is a woman. God is calling her back to him. She doesn’t actually go to this church… You have a prophetic call on your life.” Heather explains, “To say it wouldn’t have occurred to me that I was thinking he was talking about me would have been the understatement of the year.” The man continued, trying to get the individual in question to come forward. He gestured to the area of the building where Heather was sitting. Finally, the preacher took it to the next level: speaking of God, the man said to the unidentified woman, “He’s gonna get you in the gut right now so you know it’s you.” Heather felt her abdomen immediately wrenched in sobs. She describes it as “total spontaneous combustion.” The pastor concluded, “He got you in the gut; you know who you are.” Heather went up afterward and she describes, “He said, ‘You’re the one,’ and began to pray very powerfully over me.”
In fact, years later the same speaker came back to Heather’s parents’ church and sought out her parents to ask after their daughter. He told them he had been praying for her every week since then. So, though I have never experienced that sort of thing myself, I can imagine how it would get you thinking. When she came back to Chicago, Heather says, “I decided I needed to go to church.”
After making friends and joining forces with a fellow lapsed churchgoer (Diane Marshbank Murphy) she had met through work, Heather took a lengthy tour of all the churches in Chicago. Well, at least a good sampling of most of them. They ended up at the Hyde Park Vineyard because “Diane’s mother had seen an ad in the local Hyde Park paper that they were ‘contemporary’ and offered free coffee,” but they both decided they felt too old for it. However, after deciding “we liked the casual vibe of the church” and getting a brochure listing other Vineyard churches in the area, they made it down the list to the unfamiliar suburb of Oak Park.
When they walked in, a woman was preaching, which helped seal the deal for Heather. And the worship music was good. That night there was going to be a Vineyard 101 meeting, so Heather and Diane decided to kill the day in Oak Park, only to find out when they returned in the evening that the meeting was part three of a three-night event. Nonetheless, they were welcomed with open arms and made some bizarre connections with individuals who happened to be there. For example, Heather found out one of the pastors was not only from Tennessee but from her own town and had even gone to school with her mother.
This poem is endless, the odds against us are endless,
our chances of being alive together
statistically nonexistent; — Lisa Mueller, “Alive Together”
If you attend Greater Chicago Church regularly, you have probably seen Heather, on stage. Though not a regular speaker or part of the worship team, you may find her making her way to the front to share a poem or song, often in spoken word. Over the last year, some of her congregational songs have begun to be sung as part of the general worship, but these songs I am describing are different. They are spontaneous. I have learned that they come to her during the worship periods at church, unavoidably, every week, all the time. In her own words she explains, “It’s hard for me to be in church and not have a song. I feel like I carry the song and it never goes away… Rarely does a day go by that I’m not thinking about a song.” Some of these songs lead Heather to go up and sing them in the moment (“I really sometimes don’t know how I get from my seat to the stage”), and some are written down to be saved for later. And she does not feel like they all are words from God: “I feel like there’s always a song in my heart, but it might not be his song. It might be my song. When I am interpreting his song, I feel it in my chest; it will be a physical, visceral reaction.”
To illustrate the strange spiritual coincidences that mark Heather’s life, I will give my own example. Not long after one of the first times I heard her read her writing—I think it was a poem about Chicago–in church, I told her that, not to be rude or anything, but the style reminded me of the notoriously offensive Allen Ginsberg poem, “Howl,” which begins, “I’ve seen the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked…” If there is an opposite emotion than offended, that was Heather’s response. She informed me that when she had once asked God for a personal mission statement some years ago, he had given her that poem.
Again, in an email about this interview, Heather, probably not remembering my comparison and our conversation, wrote this: “Six or so years ago, when I was praying about what my ‘ministry’ or call might be, if I even had one, because I didn’t have a CLUE, God said this about as clearly as possible short of bellowing from the Heavens, ‘Here’s your mission statement…’” Heather continued by writing out the first several lines of the poem, as follows:
“‘I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war…’
Now do something about it…”
Let’s suffice it to say that Heather is no stranger to strange and unusual connections in her life. Every time we talk, she has a new story that she shares with me, albeit cautiously, assuming I will think she is crazy, but telling me anyway. The truth is I think she thinks it is all crazy too—not bad crazy, just unanticipated crazy. I know her life before her renewed faith was full of beauty and poetry and passion and vision, but her life now reminds me of an old blown-up computer chip of electric synapses. She’s like the Old Testament, better yet, a James Joyce novel, full of hidden, unlikely references past and future that mean much more than what is happening at any particular moment. It’s like each moment of her life seems to have deeper, eternal significance, not only for her but for others.
It almost feels unfair. While I am at home loading the dishwasher, who knows what unspeakably powerful spiritual experience she might be having. But maybe that is just what being in touch with God looks like for Heather. Her life was great before, and now it is overflowing.
Again, in an email to me after our interview, Heather explained, “When I had my ‘Damascus Road Experience’ (i.e. the prophet at my parent’s church), my life was really, really good, on course, on par… I wasn’t desperate. I was in graduate school pursuing my dreams, working at the Chicago Cultural Center, living in the city by the lake, and enjoying all Chicago had to offer as a single, free-spirited woman. I was in love with everything and everyone around me. Engaged to the smartest, kindest, most talented, literary and amazing man I had ever met. I have had and still do have loving relationships with my family. I loved my job. I was studying with brilliant scholars and getting encouraged and affirmed everywhere I turned. But God knew there was more. The great wasn’t enough. It had to be the Greater. And He continued pursuing me. Of course, the greater came at a great cost, and that’s a whole other story, but it is so worth it.”
So, in my opinion, Heather’s art is her use of language. Her poetry is flowing and methodical, characterized by strong rhythms and powerful, universal images, often about God and his presence, if not about something quirky and everyday. The songs and poems are both melodic and chant-like, filled with descriptive words and phrases that you don’t expect to come next, pouring, rolling, beating. She has a gift for describing beauty and inspiring change through her poetic words and songs. And this talent, this art, is being used by God as the manifestation of his presence in her life and a means of communicating with others.
Heather loves and appreciates places and spaces, like her home state and Washington, D.C., and granola-y Oak Park, and all of Chicago and the towns around it. Furthermore, she is someone who is aware of the pregnant moment, the moments, and chooses to find meaning in both the mundane and the bizarre. That is what a poet does. Her love of Chicago and her belief in God’s love for Chicago and his people is expressed poetically and in song, constantly and repetitively, like David’s endless psalms about the Hebrews and the Gentiles who will one day worship God themselves. What others may miss, like the archetypal beauty of a sunset or the experience between a mother and her child, the poet sees and shares. Heather does this about God and the mysteries with which he punctuates her life and the world around her. What details and messages we miss about and from God, Heather notices and describes in song and poetry.
* The art of Andy Goldsworthy was included because of its beauty and its inherent embodiment of the ethereal, supernatural mystery of life, time, and space on earth.
Read some of Heather’s writing:
Dissing or Dis-covering Excellence: Heather’s reflections on Arts Sunday October 31
Translations: Heather’s perspective on a morning worship service at church
Read about a few of the writers who inspire Heather:
Just give me one thing that I can hold on to. To believe in this living is just a hard way to go. –John Prine, “Angel from Montgomery”
Every artist is on a journey. Every artist is being called away from her path by a million different temptations and choices, many of which are meant to be there–meant to create longing or meant to be taken, in order to offer some additional scenic side trail to the quest. Some journeys are more direct than others–leading straight from Point A to Point B, and some are far more meandering and bewildering, leading through caves and over bridges and right to the edge of dizzying ravines before careening back around to safer territory. Some of the journeys don’t even make sense until they are finished–they seem too pocked with mixed up switchbacks, backtracks, and personal despairs. But like intricate, fading maps meant to provide directions, or the stories trees tell through their scars and rings once they have been cut down, the stories of the journeys are works of art themselves.
Melanie’s path has been a winding one, but it has been characterized by a strong sense of her own identity as both an artist and a child of God. There have been many artists in her family–designers, creators, and visionaries, including her aesthetically-minded mother and physicist father–and so it was not surprising that her gifts and interests would align with those.
At some point during high school, Melanie asked God to point her towards a particular medium. Though she had always loved to draw, she did not have a specific area of focus. She explains, “I was drawing all the time. Throughout childhood I was drawing Part of my story is that I prayed for a specific gift in art.” When I asked her more about this, she continued, “I was probably really frustrated with my high school art teacher, and I knew I was an artist, but I didn’t know how.”
After graduating from high school, Melanie took a year off to do YWAM missions, giving her the opportunity to travel and minister to others on one of YWAM’s Mercy Ships. During that year, “I drew, drew, drew.” But when YWAM’s discipleship training program stirred up many memories of friends and family suffering from death, illness, and abuse in Melanie’s past without providing her all the tools to complete the healing processes, she found herself angry and disillusioned with not only the organization but with Christians and God.
Melanie showed me a huge journal in which she took notes during her YWAM adventures. The careful, colorful notes she has taken on each large page are surrounded and interspersed with drawings. Some of the drawings are her own sketches of famous paintings or magazine clippings (“This is the kind of thing I would do all the time–I would find an image I liked and draw it.”) and some of the images are her own creations, some abstract, some with human figures, and some filled with words. It is these drawings that stand out, particularly in the emotions they express, the predominant one being anger. They are rough and harsh, both in language and line.
“After I went to YWAM, I couldn’t talk for three days. I felt like God left me like a baby in the rain in a war-torn country. That’s when I lost my faith.” It was in this state of anger and confusion that Melanie found herself beginning her university education at Wheaton College, viewed as a holy pinnacle of Evangelical Christian academics and missions by many. And not only was Melanie a Wheaton student, she was a fourth-generation Wheaton student. Coming from her recent experiences with YWAM and the furious questions they had stirred up about the goodness of God and people, Melanie became judgmental of her peers who seemed to go about blithely oblivious to their unawareness. “I looked down on everyone. I judged everyone even though I knew it wasn’t right. I knew it was wrong.”
Well, we’re drivin’ this car and the sun is comin’ up over the Rockies
Now I know she ain’t you but she’s here and she’s got that dark rhythm in her soul. –Bob Dylan, “Brownsville Girl”
Surprisingly or not so surprisingly, it was at this fragile point in her life that Melanie’s request was granted, and she discovered her passion, her art–sculpture. After trying to get into a general art creativity class and learning it was already full, one of the college art professors suggested Melanie try a sculpture class instead. On the first day of class, “I did a whole figure, and I was like, ‘this is it.’ So that’s what I did for the next four years.” Melanie had also been accepted into the competitive acting program at Wheaton, but once beginning her sculpting class, she decided to quit the acting in order to focus on sculpting: “I didn’t like being vocal in front of people. I liked to do my thing and then stand back and let them feel it.”
After Melanie’s first year at college, her roommate and very close friend, Hope, invited her to take a year off and go to Pakistan with her, but Melanie realized she shouldn’t leave at that point in time. “I told her, ‘I need to stay here and deal with my demons,’” namely the bitterness and judgment she felt towards God and many of the people around her. But before the school year could begin for Melanie and before Hope could leave for Asia, Hope passed away suddenly.
The tragedy could have been a new excuse for Melanie to revert to anger and self-destructive behavior, but she did not choose that route. Instead, she heard God tell her, “‘I am good, and I am here…’ I realized that year, ‘I have to grow up, I have to stop hurting myself.’… I finally knew I couldn’t be angry at Wheaton anymore.” In addition to finding peace with God again, Melanie also turned to art for solace. “Sculpting was my saving grace in college, because after Hope died, I was a total wreck for a year.”
And we’ll keep working on the problem we know we’ll never solve
of love’s uneven remainders, our lives are fractions of a whole.
But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall
then I think we would see the beauty–
then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges,
like a story told by the fault lines and the soil. –Bright Eyes, “Bowl of Oranges”
After college, Melanie explains, “I thought I would get an MFA.” At her senior art show, one of Melanie’s respected professors recommended to her father that she should go to graduate school, which seemed to cement the deal in her mind. When she graduated, however, her brother was working for Joe Ritchie, a brilliant, successful, out-of-the-box-thinking entrepreneur who happened to be Hope’s father. “Joe was like, ‘we need to figure out a way to employ all these artistic people,'” and he took Melanie along for the ride.
Joe was in the process of designing new office spaces for his business endeavors, and he invited Melanie to do the interior decoration, in spite of her lack of experience in the arena. He wanted the touch of an artist versus the typical look created by corporate interior design. Joe had an architect “who wasn’t really entirely gelling with” the project. So Melanie decided, “I would go home and come up with a plan by myself. I knew all they were hoping for, so I drew up a number of plans.” Joe, a fan of Melanie’s blueprints and gutsy initiative, took her up on her architectural vision.
And though the opportunity was unprecedented, there were challenges. “I was a shy artist who wanted to be alone who then for two years had to go to big meetings with corporate people who wanted all this fancy stuff.” It was the “most stressful time in my life…” Melanie described feeling like, “I do not have a clue what I’m doing.” However, the job began another new path for Melanie. “Now I’ve been doing [interior design] for ten years, and Isabel [Allum] says I have a business mind.”
Melanie’s business and reputation have flourished, in spite of her lack of education in interior design—her abilities are based on her creative intuition and the experience she has now developed. In fact, the beautiful, unusual building she originally designed for Joe was recently sold for a ridiculous profit during this poor real estate market.
Reflecting on the beginning of her interior design work, she explains, “Part of the stress was, wait, I’m supposed to be in grad school; I’m a fine artist.” Melanie admits the career path, in spite of the prophetic words that have been spoken into it, “doesn’t move my soul the way sculpture does–sculpture makes me cry.” So in order to continue to fuel the sculptor inside of her, Melanie would travel to Loveland, Colorado, to attend seminars and workshops, including an inspiring one offered by Western sculptor John Coleman.
About six years ago Melanie had her first child, a son, followed two years later by a daughter. She had anticipated that being a mother would give her time to sculpt. She “didn’t realize you get tired and exhausted and angry and depressed.” (Yes, mothers feel negative emotions from time to time.) Additionally, Melanie was only able to sell a handful of pieces, each of which cost her thousands of dollars to have cast in bronze. So, with time, the financial cost to keep sculpting–combined with the challenge of finding hours and energy to balance sculpting with children and a job, not to mention the space and mess required to maintain some remnant of a sculpting studio in her home–led to a steady decrease in the amount of time she spent doing what she loved.
She humorously described herself as “angry Melanie gives up sculpture because I have children and am an interior designer.” So instead of continuing, she “pulled sculptures from the gallery downtown [where they had been on display] because I was embarrassed because I wasn’t sculpting. I went into shame about my sculpting.”
Lands I have never seen
And shall not see, loves I will not forget,
All I have missed, or slighted, or foregone
Call to me now. And weaken me. And yet
I would not walk a road without a scene. –Richard Wilbur, “The Sirens”
Which brings us to the last year or more and Melanie’s “latest transition.” She has been one of the people, along with Jay Fancher and Ruth Patzloff, who have been invited to work on their art publicly during worship periods at church. The prospect scared her at first. She wondered, “Oh, am I just gonna make crappy spiritual art?” But since one particular sculpture she created for a Pentecost Sunday service a few months ago, “I feel really different… Well, yeah I want my pieces to be about God, and yeah, I want them to be really beautiful.” But for her, sculpting is what she is meant to do, which is how she is meant to worship God: “It’s doing what I do, another form of worship for me.”
The experience of sculpting in church has coincided with a change in Melanie’s interest in and optimism about church and church experiences, including the supernatural. She actively and enthusiastically participates in classes and conferences that did not formerly appeal to her–she worships freely through movement during church services, shares in giving and receiving group prayer for healing and other miracles, and has even felt moved to sing spontaneous songs in front of others. The idea that spiritual “gifts are for everyone” has also been new for her, having spent years thinking that “only certain people get these things” and “the Holy Spirit is for weirdos.”
Melanie explains, “Sculpture is my resting place and that’s what I also want it to be for other people–for them to be meditative. Our bodies convey so much non-verbally. These sculptures are a non-verbal way of communicating.” She describes sometimes feeling like she is “just copying what someone [God] created before us, but it’s nice because you kind of hold it–hold a moment.”
Long term, Melanie does not see sculpture being confined to a Sunday morning activity. “I have dreams about it, for sure, but I don’t know when. I love sculpting in church… But I want to be great; I want to be Rodin. I think about what Dan McCollum said. ‘Take the little bit you have, and let God grow it.’ I always look at what I lack in my sculpture, but I want to just give my little bit, even though for now my little bits are just in church.”
In another way, Melanie explains that she feels her sculpting has gone from dark to light—still retaining its depth and touching her soul but without becoming cheesy or boring. It seems as though the mystery of the Holy Spirit has replaced the mystery of darkness in her art. “The Holy Spirit is art. I think the Holy Spirit accesses all of that in us, but in a pure way, not a flagellating way. I am so glad to be accessing that and for it to be deep and not dark. I was a worshiper of dark, because it seemed way more beautiful and interesting, but the Holy Spirit has become way more real.”
It is fascinating to see this transformation from dark to light in Melanie’s art for yourself, which she pointed out to me. “There is a lot in the pose. It’s one of those things I tried to work out. What I’ve noticed about my sculpture is how it’s changed–all my sculptures have been hunched over–in the fetal position, dark, downcast, comforting, secret, hidden. For me to do the opposite of hunched over and actually feel it is a powerful piece is absolutely crazy.”
Melanie points to a newer piece she did for church to illustrate her point. “She’s still in the fetal position, but there’s something not dark about her: her arm reached out and the peace on her face.” Another recent sculpture is of a tightrope walker who Melanie describes as “kind of hunched over, but moving forward and lyrical.” Melanie continues, “Is it okay for darkness to be beautiful? I think it’s okay as long as it’s not hopeless. You also have to believe in light.”
- Roads go ever ever on,
- Over rock and under tree,
- By caves where never sun has shone,
- By streams that never find the sea;
- Over snow by winter sown,
- And through the merry flowers of June,
- Over grass and over stone,
- And under mountains in the moon.
- Roads go ever ever on
- Under cloud and under star,
- Yet feet that wandering have gone
- Turn at last to home afar.
- Eyes that fire and sword have seen
- And horror in the halls of stone
- Look at last on meadows green
- And trees and hills they long have known.
- –J. R. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit
To see more of Melanie’s art and interior design work, respectively, check out these websites:
To read more about the sculptors and artists who inspire Melanie, check out the following links:
Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a wish fulfilled is a tree of life. –Proverbs 13:12
Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up. –Pablo Picasso
When can someone start calling herself an artist? What is an artist? How much art must a person create and who needs to deem it worthy to earn the title? Can any area of life be an art? Many of us have encountered the memorably titled tome The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding, taekwondo is one of many martial arts, and people who do tricky robberies are called con artists. So is there an art associated with everything? Can anything be done artfully? If so, who decides the standard or is there any? Do we all have the potential to be artists? Does knowing that all of us can be artists takes away the value of the title?
My sister, who edits this blog, expressed a concern (after about the fourth interview) that I was going to run out of artists. I told her no need to worry, because my church is packed with them. But would it be possible, many, many months from now, to run clean out of artists or could I just keep expanding and altering the definition? I don’t know. If the artists go on forever, what’s the point?
Jay is someone who questions her right to be called an artist. She is artistic, for sure—she dresses in colorful, funky clothes, many of which she buys at thrift stores and then alters or adjusts to her taste. She plays the drums and sings. She went to a four-year art college and studied design. She sews clothes, pillowcases, baby slings–you name it. She has always been good at drawing: “I was the kid who other kids asked to draw stuff.” She paints murals and builds fantastical theater sets for a living. So she should call herself an artist, right? You would think so.
You said, “Life has no limit if you’re not afraid to get in it.” –“If You Ain’t Got Love”, Mason Jennings
Jay’s preferred method to go through life is “having a goal of something I’ve always wanted to learn and heading towards it.” When she went to Columbia College Chicago, she studied sign language and fashion design, two things she learned well and enjoyed but doesn’t currently pursue in her career. The list of skills Jay has honed thus far includes bartending, playing the drums, bowling, roller derby, tap dance, jazz, and ballet*. At the moment, Jay is working on two more of her lifetime goals—speaking Tagalog in order to connect to her Filipino roots and, of course, unicycling. But her ultimate goal, the real doozy she throws at you, is slightly less impressive to many of us; Jay would like to learn how to type without looking at the keyboard.
When Jay was pregnant and painting the walls of the baby room for her oldest son, Dylan, Jay realized, “I don’t want to just do this border—I want to do something fun and different.” So began her career for the next fifteen years as a muralist, as she sought to become an expert at what had started off as her own curious attempt to make her son’s bedroom more interesting.
After painting her son’s room with a Winnie the Pooh theme and realizing—“This turned out pretty well. I think I can do this for other people”—Jay offered to paint a mural for a family she had worked for as a nanny during college. Another success under her belt, Jay decided to make the murals her work focus, in part because she wanted to be her own boss and to stay at home with her new child. Jay’s husband, John, promoted the business by phone to in-home day-care centers and news of her murals spread. Amazingly, Jay never uses any special sketching technique or method to blow up images on the walls she is painting; she draws them all free-hand. She found she had an uncanny ability to “look at something the size of a half-sheet of paper and blow it up,” with all the correct proportions. Her murals improved: “It seems like I would just get better and better and better. At first [the paintings] would be like a coloring book with lines and solid colors. Now it is much more shaded.”
Nevertheless, Jay explains, “I never thought of myself as an artist with the murals.” In fact, Jay has been weaning herself away from the mural business. “I really don’t enjoy it as much anymore,” (probably because it is another skill she can check off her life list). Recently she has been doing “three-dimensional murals,” otherwise known as set design. She loves the challenge of building complex, multi-functioning, beautiful sets for plays. She referred to how much she enjoyed envisioning and constructing, along with the help of middle school students at the school where she works, “a ramp that needed to look like a falling tree” for a performance of The Jungle Book.
At some point over the last decade, Jay remembers her husband John, not intending to be hurtful, saying to her, “You’re not really an artist; you paint what people tell you.” Though she knows he didn’t mean for the statement to be taken personally, she shares, “When he made that comment, it stuck with me.” She explains she had “never painted on canvas—never painted for myself. Give me a wall—I’ll paint something on a wall. Give me a little [canvas], I have no idea what to do with it… I’ve always been told what to paint.” So Jay began thinking, “maybe I’m not an artist.”
For my part, I think Jay is underselling her murals. In particular, she described one mural she painted nine years ago for a huge dining area at Irving Elementary School. She had to propose a concept in order to compete for the job against numerous other artists. Jay’s mural, which was ultimately selected and painted within three weeks, covered all four walls with an evolving scene of underwater, land, sky, and outerspace—each wall portraying one landscape drifting into another.
She’s an artist, she don’t look back. She can take the dark out of the nighttime and paint the daytime black. –“She Belongs to Me”, Bob Dylan
A year or so ago, individuals began painting on canvas during worship at church, and Anthony Allen, a friend of Jay’s, was the first one to paint. Jay was curious to see how he did his work, so she “stood up to worship and went to watch everything he did.” While she was watching, she explains, “God just downloaded a painting to me,” and after the service, Jay found Anthony to tell him, “I think I have a painting I want to do.”
Anthony told her she needed to go for it, but Jay was concerned the painting in her mind, of a tree and its roots dripping blood, was a little morbid. Nevertheless, she explained, “I could not get this picture out of my head until I painted it.” It was a new experience for her. Although she was worried about the image, she believed it was from God. “Who am I to change the painting that He gave me? Even if one person is blessed, it’s good.” In contrast to her expectations, Jay “got such an overwhelming response.” One person told her, “The second that blood started to drip, I felt like I was going to get knocked over.”
Jay was unaccustomed to the new experience. “After all these years of people telling me what to paint, God was telling me what to paint.” Jay is now a regular ‘worship painter’ at church, and though the people watching made her nervous at first, she is now able to forget about the congregation behind her. “When I’m painting, I don’t get scared, because it’s just me and Him. For the most part, I’m in this zone, just painting for Him. So I don’t worry as much about what I have to paint because I trust He’s gonna do it.” And by ‘do it,’ Jay means give her another painting. During one recent church service, Jay was uncertain what she was going to paint until the very last moment. “He told me right as I was walking up.”
Jay’s paintings capture the imagination. Some are more realistic-looking than others, and some incorporate universal symbols, such as trees, hearts, and paths. The human figures and faces she includes are usually only seen as silhouettes. Overall, the paintings are surprising; if you are watching her as she works, they usually don’t end up looking like you think they will when she begins. There are mysterious people and unexplained messages. The paintings give the viewer the freedom to be moved by them in a personal way–the interpretations are not obvious, allowing them to remain open and available for reflection over and over again. All of the answers are not provided in each painting. Instead, the viewer is entrusted with the power to see them however he or she will.
Doing this different kind of painting has been empowering for Jay. “Now I feel like I’m an artist after all these fourteen years of mural painting. I didn’t really feel like that for so long. It was not to prove John wrong but to prove something to myself.”
But Jay’s artistic abilities reach far beyond drawing and painting. “My favorite part of receiving a present is putting it together. I would love to be a mechanic.” Jay told me about how she fixed her car door handle by creating a metal mold for a piece of plastic using her stove to heat the materials to be shaped. Every year, John’s grandmother would give him tools in his stocking, and every year, John would “say ‘wrong stocking’ and hand it to me.” In fact, one year “for Valentine’s Day he gave me a cordless drill, and I was so excited.”
Though I don’t think we are all artists, I think we all have the potential to be. Jay is. And Jay is someone whose art is not limited to her painting, but is expressed throughout all of who she is. She is a profoundly imaginative and creative person. She does almost everything as though it were an art to be perfected. From personal experience, I know you want her driving, parallel parking, and playing dj (i.e. figuring out how to hook up the ipod to whatever stereo system there is) whenever you go anywhere. Furthermore, I don’t think that the fact that we all can be artists cheapens the definition. God wants us all to be artists and to do everything with the passion and devotion Jay gives to, for example, her unicycling. We all have the ability to create if we want to. Just like Jay wanted to be an artist in her own right and felt her wish granted by the paintings God has started putting into her brain–which have only confirmed to her that not only is she an artist, but that God sees her as an artist–the desire for the gift of creativity will always be fulfilled.
*I can attest to the fact that Jay is also very good at zumba.
Who’s never left home, who’s never struck out, to find a dream and a life of their own? — Dixie Chicks, “Wide Open Spaces”
Jen grew up on her family’s farm in Iowa, miles from any town. After four years at Iowa’s Morningside College and five more years teaching music to middle schoolers in Nebraska, Jen moved to Chicago during the summer of ’98 “looking for some adventure.” I think she did end up finding adventure, and unexpectedly, much of the adventure has been this church and its wild journey over the eleven years she has been around.
Moves to Big City
No lovelier lovely – smoke, fire, and curved steel. One great rusty heartbeat – no lovely so real. — Poeme, “Love Song for Chicago”
Jen had a friend who was coming to Chicago after graduating from college, and for Jen, accompanying this friend seemed like an open door into the unknown. Jen considered: “I can take this chance and go or stay in small town Nebraska… When the opportunity came, I took it.” And so she came out to the city of the big shoulders without any plans.
For six months, Jen worked at a bakery in nearby Riverside. She had grown up Methodist, but felt very open to exploring the area’s churches, which she perused in the Yellow Pages. She remembered a friend telling her back in Iowa that she should try out a certain church because she would like the music, but Jen was not going to drive an hour away each Sunday to attend it. Jen remembered that the church had been called “Vineyard,” so when she saw another Vineyard church here in Oak Park, her curiosity was piqued.
After visiting, Jen explains, “I didn’t like it right away. I liked the music right away. The teaching wasn’t the polished style I was used to. But what I recognized was that something would stick with me each time. God was speaking to me.” She had grown up going to church camps where she learned that “you could have a relationship with God that was alive,” but churches she had gone to in the past had not always inspired that same feeling. “God and I had a relationship to begin with, and once I got past the ‘this isn’t what I’m used to’ feeling,” Jen felt that the Vineyard was the church for her.
Plays in Band
Maybe I’ll be an astronaut and work for NASA. Maybe I’ll see you on the moon. There’s lots of things that you can be when you grow up, just wait and see. — Great Lake Swimmers, “See You on the Moon!”
A classical piano major and percussion minor in college, Jen can play many instruments well. Joining the music ministry team at the Vineyard was a natural step, but she had wanted to play drum set. She was frustrated when that door did not open, and she was instead asked to play percussion. She explained, “They had a set of congas in the back room,” and someone said to her, “‘Well, we’ve got these drums, but we don’t have anyone to play them.'” Though percussion was not her choice, partially because she had never played percussion in a band setting before, she described the opportunity as “a fresh start to worship through an instrument I had never been paid to play.”
Coming in as a trained musician, Jen “had some performance things to let go of.” She got the opportunity to “take my eyes off of everything around me and learn how to be intimate with the Lord.” Jen says, “Pride stuff was the first thing God worked on and that took a number of years.” She explained that you don’t need a percussionist in a band, making her music an unnecessary part of the worship.
Jen described what it is like to be a part of a band. She is rarely the one on center stage, playing lead–her music is most often there to add depth. She explained, “If I am on keyboard and John [Fancher] is on guitar–those instruments play the same role–they add atmosphere and color–I have to listen to the other instrument so we’re not stepping on each others’ toes. You have to listen to each other and give space. It’s about being community-wired and letting each person have their voice.”
Sometimes during worship, someone will get a particular beat or melody to share, which sounds like an amazing experience. Jen doesn’t like to feel as though she is just performing, but she says if she thinks about sharing her music in a certain way, it is a thrill: “I feel like I can get melodies from heaven and release them and I am happy to do that. When I think of myself as a conduit, I am ecstatic to be God’s voice in those moments. I want to be close enough to God to hear his heartbeat.”
Jen doesn’t have just one favorite instrument–each one plays a different function in her life. “If I want passionate warrior worship, it’s percussion. My heart really connects with that expression in an intentional way… If I need to just spend time with the Lord, I’ll play the piano. All those hours at the piano have really affected my sensitivity to the Spirit… My personal worship time is with the guitar at home. Writing songs on the guitar got me through my hard years… Drum set is the most fun–it’s my joy place.”
In addition to playing music, Jen writes songs, an element of her artistic self-expression that is also deeply entwined in her spiritual journey. “I wrote my first song on a women’s retreat in Wisconsin while sitting on a picnic table under a tree. Songwriting always started out with God speaking something to me in a way that would reach me. I don’t consider myself a songwriter, more a song-receiver.” Jen shared lyrics from the first song: It’s not your big plan for me. It’s not how you can use me. You are all that I need.
“During my hard years–after my first few nights of counseling [where therapy enabled Jen to work through relational challenges from her past]–I would have worship night. Some of the friends who came were singers, and I would share my stuff. I’ve started writing more again, totally in a different way, not because I am broken and need him to heal me through song, but because music is my language.”
Jen’s language is understood by children too. She had an awesome experience of “receiving” a kids song in Mozambique. “It came to me while I was in bed, and I wrote it in my journal. I knew it was a kids song and knew it was for our church when I got back. The song, which I had heard my four-year-old daughter singing around the house long before learning that it was Jen’s, goes, I’ve got joy in my toes and wiggle in my bones. I’m gonna clap and shout his name – Jesus!
Is Bound for Big Things
This is the story of how we begin to remember. This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein. — Paul Simon, “Under African Skies”
The path Jen has been on–the change in her music and worship–has also reached other areas of her life. “The prophetic journey has been to shed those personal things. It started in practical ways with the band but progressed to deeper ways. That’s what motivates me: to make sure I’m not harboring anger or having unresolved issues but just being available for God to use. I really feel a friendship with God: it’s not like he’s using me; it’s like we’re working together. I want to be where he is and do what he’s doing.”
“When I first came, I had a hurdle to jump over with the Holy Spirit stuff. But I learned to worship under Dave Fife, who has a heart of gold. Dave would never perform but just close his eyes.” It took Jen some time to be comfortable worshiping while not worrying about the people around her. “I learned to raise my hand, and that was my first hurdle in worship. Once I got up to where the church was–once I caught up with everyone else and experienced the freedom–I grew with the church alongside people I trust.”
I didn’t mention that six months after moving here those eleven years ago, Jen quit her job at the bakery (cavities for the first time in her life had been an unfortunate side effect of that occupation) after applying and getting an administrative position she had seen advertised in the Vineyard bulletin. Over the past decade of working at the church, Jen has been been able to observe and participate in various seasons of change. “I love being on the inside and knowing things that are going on. I love knowing what God’s doing with individual people. I love hearing prophetic words and seeing people the way God sees them. I love hearing words for the church and having a bigger picture of the future. I am a practical person,and when I hear those visions I can help take us there.”And from all of her experience, Jen believes this is an “exciting time in our church.”
As for herself, Jen says, “I feel myself getting bigger and bigger, because I am destined for big things. I’ll probably go back to Africa, but I don’t know when or for how long. I think once you go to Africa, it’s in your blood.” Jen went to Mozambizque on an exploratory week and then again for three months a couple years ago. Jen relished her time there, but she has her own perspective on the purpose of her trips. “I don’t know what I did for them. I gave some music lessons and visited some people who were dying. I think really God took me to show off his kids to, as if he was saying, ‘Look, look, aren’t they great?’ They are great. I love them. Their worship is amazing.”
When I asked Jen if she had anything she wanted to share with me before this interview, she sent me a recorded clip of a ‘prophetic word’ she had received. She said it would give insight into her life now and what her future potential would be, and she said she could tell me about her life thus far. Among other things, the recorded ‘word’ talked about Jen being a powerful worshiper and how she was choosing to devote herself to worshiping God. The speakers also talked about how Jen is someone who isn’t afraid to tell the truth–things that people need to hear. Jen is someone who is not focused on the past. She is present now, fully engaged in and thrilled to be living her life, and somehow without pride, she is confident and certain of her value in the Kingdom.
1) skill acquired by experience, study, or observation
4) the conscious use of skill and creative imagination especially in the production of aesthetic objects
1) one skilled or versed in learned arts
2) one who professes and practices an imaginative art
reverence offered a divine being or supernatural power
— definitions from the Merriam-Webster Dictionary
Part 1: This Love
And this love, this love between you and I, is older than that burning ball of fire up in the sky. — “One Hundred Million Years”, M. Ward
Maybe it’s just me, but I often find that the most captivating people are the least outspoken—the most modest and unassuming ones, especially when those people have something to say. They are individuals you don’t notice until they blow you away by saying or doing something profound and meaningful, without a lot of hoopla to let you know they are about to say or do something profound. People who aren’t dramatic. People who say what they mean and believe, even if they don’t really feel like it, but because they know it’s the right thing to do.
In some ways, it was hard to write this interview. I didn’t know Megan previously and though she sent me some of her music to listen to, it’s hard to get to know someone through song lyrics. Additionally, she isn’t trying to advertise to herself or make a statement, as many people often are (myself included). Her identity is something she seems to almost keep hidden. You don’t know who she is right off the bat. In fact, I still feel like I don’t know who she is to the same degree I feel like I have gotten to know other people in brief periods of time, though I do feel like I learned some interesting things about her and her art. And I learned that I want to know more. People who don’t say things that aren’t necessary have always been the most interesting to me, probably because I am the opposite of them. It is an amazing quality that makes the secrets and information they do share that much more powerful.
This is notable as far as Megan is concerned, because her art is her form of worship, and worship, for most people, and I am assuming especially for more inward people, is deeply personal. So Megan’s art form—writing music and lyrics—is a, if not the, primary way that she worships God.
Megan’s depth of passion and sincerity is palpable when she sings her songs or talks about God. It is evident that their relationship is a long, intimate one that has been cultivated and cherished for many years.
Perhaps more importantly, I get the feeling that her spirituality is not put on or something that she is saying to impress you. She is in no way pretending she is something she is not. She talked frankly about different times when she has had more exciting sorts of experiences with God than she has had recently–like all relationships, it sounds like theirs is one that is accompanied by changing seasons, and she does not pretend like it is always perfect.
Part 2: The Weight of Truth
And the mercy seat is burning, and I think my head is glowing. And in a way I’m hoping to be done with all this weighing up of truth. — “The Mercy Seat”, Nick Cave
Megan has always loved music. She grew up in a Christian household in Kenosha where her parents regularly hosted church groups in which worship music played a central role, and her father loved playing the guitar for fun and for meditation. “Every Sunday morning, I’d always hear the guitar.” Megan took voice and piano lessons, along with other instruments like the oboe during school, but she didn’t start writing songs until college.
Worship has also played a foundational role in Megan’s faith. She explained, “I feel like I have learned so much about God through worship. Sermons don’t stick with you for ten or 15 years, but I will remember a lyric forever.”
Megan’s art is done for and through worship. In fact, she claims, “My intimacy with God developed through worship… and probably a good part of my theology, which is probably good because people aren’t usually singing about dark, apocalyptic stuff.” Her artistic process is simple: she sits down to spend time singing and playing piano while worshiping God, and then sometimes these songs come out. New songs. “They come to me during worship. I don’t know what that means, but they can come.”
In high school Megan stopped playing piano so that she could narrow down her extracurricular activities per her mom’s suggestion, but when she got to college she started playing again because she had missed it and felt it was a healthy outlet for herself. She used much of her time playing the piano as a way to have private worship experiences. “I wanted to be able to say something. I wanted to speak to God directly. I wanted to say my own things and not something someone else said.”
For Megan, the hardest part of writing songs is making it anything other than a personal experience. “The hardest part of it has always been the performance aspect of it, which I guess is because of my personality… If it’s only me and God, I don’t have to sing perfectly and keep a perfect beat. It’s hard for me to share something vulnerable and then have to sing on top of it.”
She told me about how she would attend meetings of the songwriters group at church and “shake so hard.” She would occasionally get up the nerve to share a piece of music, but “it didn’t matter what anyone said. I thought it was terrible. I’d make it through the song, but… the whole time I would think ‘maybe next time I’ll have Rachel Allen perform it.’”
Megan has recently started sharing her songs with others, recording some and offering others to be performed by friends at church. “The first songs I wrote I’d never give to anyone and expect them to perform them in any worship setting, but I’m on the flip side now. It’s been a really gradual process.” Sometimes she thinks, “maybe I am supposed to keep this to myself.” But she also knows that her feelings of insecurity are mostly her own issue and not based on actual perceptions of others. “I feel like if I get to the place where I am worshiping and not performing, it really makes a difference.”
Part 3: Without Fear
He said that you could come into His presence without fear, into the holy place where His mercy hovers near. — “The Mercy Seat”, Third Day
When we started the interview, Megan asked me if we could trade seats. I was kind of surprised, since I had chosen my seat with some intention (namely so that she couldn’t read my notes while I was taking them), but she then explained that she is deaf on her right side. She says that when she enters the church sanctuary now, she hears the music differently than she used to before she lost her hearing in one ear early this spring. Her doctors have told her the deafness is permanent, but Megan did not express sadness or fear about how the injury will affect her music or appreciation of music in the future.
Megan talked about some of her favorite musical artists and about certain songs that have stuck with her over the years. One in particular was called “The Mercy Seat”. She had heard it at a church she had traveled to in Pensacola, Florida, during high school, and she couldn’t exactly remember who it was by, though she thought it was Third Day. While looking it up, I found a lot of fascinating songs about mercy seats and ended up learning what the mercy seat actually is. According to Wikipedia (the most trusted source on earth), “the Holy of Holies could only be entered at Yom Kippur, and even then could only be entered by the Jewish High Priest, who was covenanted to do so in order to sprinkle the blood of a sacrificial bull onto the mercy seat [or the golden covering of the Ark of the Covenant], as an atonement for himself and his family, the other priests, the Tabernacle, and the people of Israel; the directions specify that incense was first burnt in the Holy of Holies so that a cloud rose up and appeared above the mercy seat.” Clearly, there is no wonder why a song about the mercy seat would stick with someone.
I think I have had a hard time with worship music in the past because it seems contrived or too self-aware or too happy or trying to be something it’s not. There are no Job-like worship songs, about the hard times in life and there aren’t any without easy, happy endings. I mean, I know the point of worship songs is to talk about how great God is and that that is a happy ending in itself, but sometimes I just don’t trust the level of ultra-joyfulness they exude.
With Megan’s music, I feel like I can trust it. I don’t feel like she is trying to force any overly positive emotion. In one of her songs, she sings about people not being able to escape from God. While the idea is ultimately a positive one, she is tackling the question of humans trying to escape God’s love, something she explained she had dealt with among people close to her.
When you listen to Megan singing her songs (and you aren’t singing one yourself in a worship setting), you get the feeling that you are eavesdropping. It is obvious that she has not planned on performing for an audience or that she even had an audience in mind when she was creating her art. She is doing it purely out of her own desire to worship, and the creation of music, her art, is a side note.
Megan’s music is haunting and angelic, with serious, intense lyrics. Musically, the songs she shared with me are simple (according to her), but they are beautiful and engaging, with lilting piano accompaniment. Her voice is sweet, and she sings earnestly and without dramatics, as though she is simply expressing herself, as she is.
Maybe I feel like I can also trust her music just because I trust her. After getting to know her as well as I could in the brief time we shared, I felt that she was not trying to control my perception of her or to consciously portray any particular element of who she was. She was just hanging out and trusting that I would be honest in my interpretation of her and her art.
I do believe it is important to trust the artist. Sometimes you see or hear music or paintings or plays or movies that make you feel like you are being manipulated in some way. And while it is sometimes good to let your comfort be pushed by art, it is not as good when you feel like your emotions are being toyed with (think of your average romantic comedy). It makes you feel like a puppet. When you can listen or watch or look and be stirred, intrigued, or moved in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you are being intentionally mastered, then you are probably experiencing honest art that allows you to trust it and the artist.
Megan’s music is like that. You don’t feel like her music is meant to convince you of anything or stir any specific emotion. In fact, you don’t get the feeling that it is for you at all, unless perhaps you are wanting to sing it in your own worship. Her music is meant for God, and that is obvious.
You can listen to one of Megan’s songs, “Open My Eyes”, on the recent Greater Chicago Church worship album, “Glimpse.”
‘Poor tempest-tossèd soul, be still; My promised grace receive’;
’Tis Jesus speaks—I must, I will, I can, I do believe. — “Approach, My Soul, the Mercy Seat”, John Newton