True is Better than Done

While viewing a documentary I saw a sign above the desk of a journalist which said, “True is better than done.” I searched the web for the phrase and the top results were a series of links offering and explaining a different saying: “Done is better than perfect.” The former fits well with journalism and other forms of knowledge work. The latter jives better with creative enterprises like the visual arts, creative writing, or graphic design.

In creative work, it is possible to become so obsessed with imperfections that one never ships and never shows. Fear and doubt prevent completion, even if the work itself is excellent and all that is lacking is the click of the word “publish” or “send.” The artist holds off on sharing, believing the work could be perfect with one more tweak, a little more time, and one additional, elusive dash of inspiration.

But the work may be done. It may never be perfect. Done, rather than perfect, might be the state of affairs. All that is left is to unveil the work, take criticism, and refine your craft before telling the next story, composing the next image, or shooting the next subject. Creative work involves the viewer, the reader, as a critic. The critic helps the artist take the next step.

In knowledge work, such as journalism, you desire to write in a way that coheres with and explains reality. You want it to be true, not perfect, and not just done. There is only one way to be confident you are done: the story you have told is true. A true story does not have to be perfectly told. Journalism is meant to inform the citizenry, to put the truth to the public. It involves the citizens. The citizens help the knowledge worker take the next step, offering new leads, a new chapter, a follow up, another project.

Both the theologian and the preacher can learn from the knowledge worker and the creative worker (speaking of the arts; all work involves creativity). Theologians are like journalists, in this instance an example of the knowledge worker. They labor hard for the truth, and they help preachers and the whole of the church to familiarize themselves with the best of the tradition, the times, and their text, which in the Christian tradition is the Bible.

Preachers are theologians. Yet, there is a sense in which their vocation involves elements of the creative worker. Every sermon, every new venture, if it is led by the Spirit, will have a mysterious element, an element that is hidden and yet to be revealed, an outcome and a reception that can only be discovered in the sharing. Work may be presented as done but not perfect, yet also true. Once the Word of God is proclaimed by the preacher, delivered prayerfully and humbly, it is hoped that there is an illumination, a revelation of what God is up to in the midst of the world.

The theologian and the preacher, both, are doing work that involves the congregation, the church. The church helps the preacher and the theologian take the next step, using their voice to discern truth from error, and their lives as a testing ground for that which is offered, a place to explore and to discover the mysterious and manifold ways of the Spirit.

A Meaningful Life?

The key to a meaningful life is to know God and enjoy fellowship with God, the source of all joy, now and forever.

But that is not so easy. Why? Because we are acclimated to another climate, a different set of ideas, a frame that is foreign, so oppositional to that God, that while we might long for that kind of fellowship and companionship and constant joy, and even though we may even taste it fleetingly, momentarily, we will find ourselves feeling pulled, by an orbital force, away from that God. We will attempt to center our universe elsewhere, because until we meet that God, our universe is centered elsewhere, centered on another reign, another rule, a different set of priorities and objectives.

Some call this “the world.” Until we see otherwise, the world is all we know.  It is tangible, visceral. Its impulses and key stories are our impulses and key stories, no matter how good-natured and kind we may be, or think we may be. For the forces of this world, the powers and principalities, are subtle and complex, not to mention seductive. They exert influence not only in the domain of our choices, but on our motivations. They not only warp our vision of what is ultimately good, but our character, which is vital for our ability, in the end, to choose and to do what is good. These “powers and principalities,” if I may call them such (for the Bible does), are manifold and multi-form, visible and invisible.

This is why the Christian message of salvation, or good news, is so startling. It moves us from one realm to another, from darkness to light, from one way of seeing to another, from one set of rules to a new understanding of rules altogether. A meaningful life, one that rings out in eternity, is one that is part of eternity now, one that lives by a dissonant sets of principles and commitments from that which is familiar.

When Jesus entered the world, he did so as true light, as God. Jesus came preaching, yes, but he also enacted and embodied an alternative reality. He called this the kingdom of God. Some theologians today speak of this as the reign of God, or God’s family, or God’s eternal kinship. Whatever you call it, this reality was his message. And as he preached, enacted, demonstrated and embodied this message, Jesus was, in a sense, displaying the fullness of meaning. His life demonstrates, in a deeply profound way, what it means to live a life of purpose, vocation, harmony, and blessing, a life that lasts. Nothing Jesus did was in vain, for all was done for the glory of God and for the good of this world, according to the plans and purposes that had been appointed specifically for him.

This is why Jesus was rejected. His life was in dissonance with everything else that had ever been in this world. But his life was, in actual fact, the true song, the song everlasting. His words and his deeds, they still ring out. For while they were done and said within time, they transcend time. In his life, he accomplished the most meaningful thing that has ever been done.

And because of this, we may find meaning by no longer living for ourselves, but by dying and being made alive in Christ.