ART AS A RED SEA ROAD by Cass Langton

art as a RED SEA ROAD

Words: Cassandra Langton

The Exodus has always been one of my favourite stories in the Bible - especially the part where the Israelites have made their way to the edge of the Red Sea and find themselves confronted by a sea of water and the armies of Egypt coming behind them. I love it because God had just orchestrated for them to stage the biggest heist in history – plundering Egypt’s gold before they fled. So there they are, on the run, stuck at the edge of the Red Sea with all of Egypt’s riches. They are meant to go and worship God in the dessert. But here they are, fearing for their lives at the sight of the Red Sea and the knowledge of Egypt’s armies close behind them. So, they start complaining to Moses.

He replies in Exodus 14:13-14, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

I don’t know about you but I often think about that verse and how we fight with stillness and waiting. I love it. On a good day, it encourages me to compose myself — to be more patient, to trust God and to wait for Him. But, if I’m honest, on some days it really frustrates me.

As I read those verses again, I saw something I had never noticed before. Right after Moses tells the people to be still, the very next verse says, “why are you crying out to me...move forward.”

I was taken aback. Surely it was a good thing to be still and let God fight — to choose to cry out to Him when we find ourselves under threat? But God is telling them to stop crying out and walk forward. Move on and walk right into the thing in front of them – a sea capable of drowning them.

God is clear: Stop crying out and move ON.

We were sitting at dinner one night with some new friends and some great Italian food. It was somewhere in 2020; the year of heartache for the world. People were dying in record numbers, and we felt the weight on our shoulders. We had dear friends whose businesses were collapsing. We sat alongside our team who were grieved at the way injustices were playing out and at the division in the

We listened to pastor friends whose congregations were under pressure, people who were forced to fold on home loans, and people who battled with mental health issues that nearly sunk them. There were people experiencing cancer amidst COVID-19, and we prayed with creative pastors who were burying their teammates, and stood with people who had significant health challenges. It felt like wave after wave after wave crashing down around us.

As we continued talking, the pizza came, then the black pepper pasta, and then the coffee. They spoke of marriage and degrees, of the kindness of God, and of the challenges of diversity in the church and bringing vastly different cultures together in the kingdom. We spoke of ways that we can champion our differences, and be peacemakers representing the kingdom of God in a way that is radically different to anything we could ever imagine.

As we left dinner that night the story of the Exodus came back to me. And it wasn’t the ‘be still’ part, that stood out, but the following declaration. “Why are you crying out to me? Move on.”

I’d done my fair share of crying out to God, of feeling helpless, and now I felt something else: a sense that we were standing on one side of the Red Sea and that God wanted us to move on into our future. I had the sense that life in 2020 wasn’t the promised land. There was a Red Sea to cross and a new place to go if we were going to become what God had called us to be.

I had been having conversations with some of our online church team about how we were in an incredible position to do extraordinary things. Our filmmakers kept telling me we needed to use our creativity to tell the important stories in our world. Sloan Simpson, our Brisbane Central Creative Pastor, wrote a song we started using in church, and I saw a future for Queensland worship. I kept getting reports of our songs finding their way into hospital wards where healthcare professionals were exhausted from the constant fight against COVID-19. I saw a community, birthed around tables in heart-felt conversation, arising from our creative team that was more authentic, real, and transparent than we ever had before. Kris Mateika and I sat in a café and dreamed about a magazine telling stories of artisans commissioned for kingdom purpose (and, if you are reading this now, then in your hands you have the 4th edition of that magazine). Ben Fielding and I had been having conversations about writing what we, as a community, wanted to become. Using lyric and melody to call the church higher — to let art, beauty, songs and creativity reignite our imaginations for what a redeemed world and a healthy church could look like. One where every tribe, tongue and nationality was healed and whole and crying out “Holy! Holy! Holy!” Where we saw outside of ourselves, repented of our sin, and saw the lost come home. Where we became more loving, more kind, more Christlike and where God was glorified. Maybe God was pushing us out of our depths and out of captivity toward a better future. And out loud I said: we need to let our art be a RED SEA ROAD.

Imagine using what God has put in our hand to pave a way through the stormy waters of life. Imagine creativity that evokes beauty, reignites hope, reimagines community, and reinvigorates Christianity. Imagine worship that lifts eyes heavenward and reminds them that the unseen realm is more real than the seen and that God is always present, always at work, and always has a plan. Imagine a community of creatives on a mission, not complaining or grumbling on the edge of the unknown, but prophetic in stature, determined in their discipline, motivated in their craft and excellent in their execution.

Unbeknownst to me, a creative ministry in China brought some of their team to our 2018 Worship and Creative Conference. During that conference we invited delegates to join our 100 Day Creative Challenge, where we intentionally set aside 100 days to focus on creativity and see what God does. Each year new and exciting things are birthed out of this challenge: albums recorded, film festivals won, creative degrees obtained, new instruments learned, and new businesses launched, including my friend Paul Cox who launched a business modernising online church websites. (You can read more about him on page 106.)

My friend Renee turned up at my office and told me about a girl from that Chinese community who, inspired by the challenge, began to paint

Bible stories that would later be hung in a gallery in downtown, Shanghai. In a place where it is illegal to share the gospel, she shared her artwork, and the beauty of Heaven echoed into people’s hearts.

If I have the story right, many visitors were weeping at the unfamiliar stories but unsure as to why they were weeping. NT wright says in his book, Surprised by Hope, “Beauty matters, dare I say, almost as much as spirituality and justice” because it points to the longing and ache that beauty creates within, thrusting us towards God. She made her art a Red Sea Road and in doing so, opened up a new road — a way for people to encounter God.

One of these paintings found its way onto my desk — given to me as a gift. And the Bible story was The Exodus. Specifically, the Red Sea parting miraculously, making a way for the Israelites to walk safely across to the other side. The Red Sea Road.

So, what could it be that we are meant to take away from this story?

MOVE ON

The future is forward.

C.S. Lewis said, “There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind,” and I think he was right. We are all journeying toward an eternal destination — something beautiful and grand — something that is full of hope. Each day leads us closer to a better reality. However, in the meantime, I want to encourage you to not dwell in the past, but instead commit to continuing on in God, in friendships, in creativity and in believing for what is to come.

Painting from artist, Sunday, who was inspired by the 100 Day Creative Challenge

STOP COMPLAINING

I think it’s human nature to grumble and complain, to get anxious and to not watch what is coming out of our mouths. Over the last year I have heard more complaining than I ever thought possible (myself included), on the news, on Instagram, in the church, and at school.

Philippians 4:8 says, “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things.” Friends, meditate on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, and gracious — the best things, not the worst — the beautiful, not the ugly — things to praise, not to curse. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into His most excellent harmonies.

DON’T MARK TIME

We don’t get to press pause on time. Time is passing even when life throws us curve balls.

Don’t waste the season you’re in. God is still doing something. You aren’t stuck. You aren’t a hostage. You are becoming. And that means this season can be life-transforming if you let it. Set some goals, choose to reimagine, and create different expectations when you find yourself between Egypt and the Promised Land.

MAKE MEMORIES

Van Gogh said, “...I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.”

You are the Artisans and the Worshippers. So, what will we make of this season? How are we loving people well? What will we create and become? What will history tell? Pressure allows coal to become diamonds. Grit and sand produce pearls. What has 2020 and 2021 produced in you?

God has made a way. What are you going to make of it?