What a read.

What a brilliant, dense, and far-reaching study of the relationship between art, artist, and the living Creator. Makoto Fujimura’s Art + Faith: A Theology of Making hits deeply upon so many different roads one can take at the many-pronged intersection of art, work, faith, theology, productivity, humanity, and eternity.  In this decided fullness, the book feels almost conclusive, even though it swims in a topic that is (wonderfully) inexhaustible.

Makoto Fujimura is a celebrated 21st century visual artist working in a beautiful place somewhere between the abstract expressionist tradition, and the fine art crafting tradition of his own native Japan.  An artist, professor, author, and senior fellow at the Trinity Forum, and founder of the International Arts Movement for culture care, Fujimura brings his passion, talent, knowledge, and love of God and man strongly to bear in his new book Art + Faith: A Theology of Making.  We got our hands on copies as soon as they left the binding facility.  Upon finishing our reads, some of us in the Forefront community have taken time to compile our glad thoughts and reactions, which we share with you below:

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Nathan Mancini

“Art + Faith: A Theology of Making” is not a book you can read quickly. That has nothing to do with its size — in fact, it’s a small book by normal standards. Its pages are, in total, just a half inch deep. No, the depth of this book is not in its size, but in its ideas. The content of this book is so audacious, so revolutionary, so countercultural to the modern evangelical mind, that I simply cannot imagine reading this book in a few days and then moving on to something else. Like Mako’s paintings, this book demands your patience, your careful attention, and perhaps most of all, your willingness to examine your assumptions about the role of creativity in the kingdom of God. Like the wardrobe in The Chronicles of Narnia, this book is far bigger on the inside than it is on the outside — and you can’t expect to enter another world and come back unchanged. 

Perhaps Mako’s most forceful (and consistent) assertion in the book is that our culture’s “utilitarian pragmatism” has led us astray from the heart of God. We want to understand, explain, and “fix” problems in the world; we have a mindset focused on managing risk and surviving amidst scarcity. Mako confronts this mindset with one of the shortest verses in Scripture: “Jesus wept.” While we might simply use this verse to demonstrate Jesus’s compassion, Mako takes it further: “Jesus’s tears are gratuitous, extravagant, and costly... God, the Artist, ‘wastes’ time with us to listen to our hearts and to be fully present in our suffering.” And if this is what God, the true Artist does, it should radically affect how we engage with the world. Mako describes a “gift economy” that makes room for the idea that extravagant beauty can be a gift, not just a sale; artists as “border-stalkers” that can mediate the divided realities in our culture; and the act of making itself as not a talent that a small group of “artists” have, but rather a vital key to experiencing God that everyone ought to pursue. In one of the most moving moments early in the book, Mako says plainly what many of us have wondered: “I understand now what I did not understand as a child: that every time I created and felt [a charge or energy], I was experiencing the Holy Spirit.”

You may not “agree” with everything you read in this book. Mako makes many bold claims and interprets Scripture in a way you may not have encountered before. But that’s part of what makes this book worthwhile to read and study. We have enough books that meander well-worn paths spouting endless platitudes and caveats. We don’t have many that attempt to blaze a trail toward the new. That’s what Mako has done in “A Theology of Making.” Perhaps that’s just what we ought to expect from an artist — and just the spark our lethargic hearts need. It’s a call to look up, to rise, to boldly participate in God’s creative work in the world. 

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Cody Schweickert

This book pulverized what I now realize is my small view of art and faith.  Fujimura’s prose is as beautiful as the visual masterpieces he is known for, and reading this book reminds how baffling it is to spend time visiting in the mind of someone with such vast and severe talent.  From the solid rock of orthodoxy, he constructs a gargantuan temple of imaginative wisdom in this volume I feel will be treasured as much in one hundred years as today.  With insight that transcends the noise of this cultural season, Mako illuminates a God far more refreshing in His creativity and grace than we often dare to imagine, all while elevating his design and intentions for humanity to a height we rarely think about.  The paradigm-shifting “theology of making” outlined here invites us to experience joy in lament as we glorify Christ in the worship that is creating.

Simply put, I feel like I love God and humans more after reading Art + Faith.

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Richard Christman 

Again, what a read.  There are so many pages to turn to representing peaks in the contemporary and much needed discussion of theology and creativity -- of how God feels about our purpose, or productivity, our “secular” occupations, and even our hobbies.  In discussing Art + Faith though, most summatively, I stick to the essential lynchpin (as Fujimura points out) of both the book and of life itself -- Eucharist.  The glory and infinity of God coming to Earth not only in a temporal form, but in a human made thing is the center of Gospel -- the man, Jesus, knit in the womb of His mother, Mary, and represented in the manifestation of bread and wine -- forms meticulously designed, crafted, and patiently practiced each time they are used, by human artisans.  

“The Eucharist assumes”, Fujimura writes, “that we make with our own hands the very elements that will symbolize the broken body of Christ and the redemptive sacrifice that leads us to the New Creation… in such use, the elements are not just symbols, but are actual parts of the New Creation.”  He explains further, “such making requires the collaboration of farmers, perhaps for generations, who raise wheat, bread makers who bake the bread, and the bread shop that distributes it… Bread and wine are both realities that would not exist on their own, but earthly materials must be cultivated by human beings and require much time to create.”  In almost the center of Art + Faith, Fujimura brings to light an element of God’s relationship to humans that is so often overlooked by the modern Church --  “God, for some mysterious reason, waits upon human making, and chose to use our ability to make bread and wine to reveal Jesus’ resurrected presence known at the table of Eucharist.  Imagine that!  The resurrected Christ waits until we create, until the soil we cultivate is harvested, and until we make, to reveal himself to us!”

Our Creator and Father loves us.  He wants his sons and daughters to be participants in his great work of making beautiful, meaningful things, and restoring what has been broken through the power of his Son, our first Brother, Jesus.  The artist, the cultivator, and the maker are not merely employed by the curse of Adam, or by a sinful desire for self-expression or self-fulfilment, but by God’s holy design for his family.  Makoto Fujumura has written a guidebook not only on how to see the interactions between artists and Christian belief, but on how creativity is a redeemed activity, one that necessarily flexes your imago dei muscles!  If you do art, make things, or even just enjoy bread and wine, you owe it to yourself to read this book.

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Brian Ferris

I have always found myself drawn to tragedies as an actor. The protagonist’s control over their circumstance starts to slip away and they find themselves suffering from the consequences of a fallen world. Sorrow, despair, and death often accompany the final scenes of such plays, and as a Christian, I began to feel guilty about my fascination with these sad stories. After all, are we not, as Christians, called to be hopeful and filled with words of encouragement? Makoto’s words allowed me to understand my interest – in fact, I realized that I was reflecting Christ’s love towards these fallen characters. Lazarus was a man who felt the salty taste of death, and next to his deathbed soon after his passing was the Savior of the world, Jesus Christ, the Son of the omnipotent God… and yet Jesus took the time to weep over the death of his friend. Jesus understands our fallen condition and his abundant love extends to all of mankind. In this manner, we should do the same. Makoto summarizes, “Confidence in Christ is different from ‘smiling through’ tough times: this confidence is a quiet surrender, but an unshakeable hope that lies beneath all of our rubble – what poet Christian Wiman called his ‘bright abyss.’”

The word that sifted through my head as I closed this book was the word consider. Makoto’s words encouraged me to contemplate many things - dirt, perfume, broken bowls – things that often I do not spend much time thinking about. Now, when we truly consider something, we need to use our imagination to stretch our thoughts beyond what is immediate and string together new ideas that can give way to glimpses of the New Creation. A bowl that is broken can be mended through the restorative acts of Kintsugi where the craftsman holds the pottery in their hand, mends the pieces together, and devotes time to the healing process. In a similar way, we must consider the brokenness of ourselves, our neighbors, and our enemies. We must empathize, and sympathize, with one another before we can be leader’s in faith. Being made in the image of the Creator means our response when considering God’s divine mercy is to make something that reflects this mercy – something that understands the tragedy of our human condition and is inspired by the New that is yet to come.

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We hope our reactions have more than piqued your interest.  We also hope you join us in welcoming friend, actor, and abstract painter, and fellow Grove City College alumnus Brian Ferris as a valued guest writer on this piece.  

We’d be remiss to leave you without the words of Makoto’s “Benediction for Makers”... but we think by now you’d probably best find it for yourself on page 150 of the book.  Happy reading.

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If you would like a free copy of  Art + Faith: A Theology of Making, look for our giveaway on instagram (@forefrontfest) for your chance to be gifted one, as well as some limited Forefront Festival gear.  See you over there!