Staying on the Hurt Line
The phrase “staying on the hurt line” is from a classmate's mom in a class I took at the beginning of summer: Art in a Time of Crisis. What does it mean to remain on the hurt line? Is it somewhere between joy and pain? Is it a bittersweet truth that life is both hard and beautiful? Yes, yes, and so much more.
In the class, we looked closely at art made during times of conflict. The art reflected terrible deeds, healing, prophecy, pain, peace, and reconciliation. We looked at murals from the Bogside Artists in Londonderry, Ireland, from Bloody Sunday. We examined art on the separation wall between Israel and Palestine. We discussed the 9/11 Memorial. We looked at the modern art of the self-exiled Chinese artist Ai Wei Wei. And we asked how art aids us, not only because it shows the sacredness of humanity and of God, but also because art for art's sake helps, heals, conveys, and owns truth. Art can be theological because it communicates about God AND about the world. Certainly, it is theological. Most significantly, art gives us a language we cannot access through words in times of crisis.
My words have been stuck in my throat for months. The days after the war in Ukraine began were when I knew my creativity was in a dark cave. Hurt upon hurt. I had been resistent to speak it out loud. This world wrenches my heart. I silently asked, “Oh, God, where will our help come from? How do I access excellence in my art, in my life, when my own country remains fragmented and steeped in dissent?
I don't like camping out with hurt. Who does? But what I experienced in that class was an honest conversation about something I needed, and you may too. Staying on the hurt line is where most of us live swaths of our lives. I don't want to tell you I struggle with chronic pain or mental health or that my family endured years of trauma that still affects us. I do want to tell you I have days of inexplicable happiness, wonder, and strength. That FEELS good. But when I think of who Christ is and where He chose to dwell, it was always on the hurt line, with the marginalized, ashamed, and desperate. He lives just as much in our Sunday worship as he does with the hungover homeless guy down the road. Christ chooses to be with those on the hurt line.
As artists and Christians this is where all of us have personal experience. Art, visual, written, musical, experiential, and many other forms, is expression, communication, and education. Art is lifeblood in a crisis. It helps us cope.
I have spent months not writing much creatively. I've been a corked bottle, all shook up, nearly ready to explode. But writing essays for that class was cathartic. I saw people who had used hurt to propel their art. Beauty and healing emerged as they shared their art with the world. The works of art expanded and embraced people who needed it beyond what the artists could ever have imagined.
Don't numb out. Don't forget your art. When the earth groans under your feet, when the words or aesthetic escapes you, when you feel like you can't make or feel one more thing, Christ gives us a new way. A way of seeing. A way of being. We stay on the hurt line. We listen. We minister. We make.
