Shaping Our Desires to Truth

I am a bit behind on my commitment. If anyone was expecting an earlier post, I apologize. I know this habit will be good for me, but I am still forming the habit and thus ask for grace.

This afternoon I read Os Guinness' essay titled "Time for Truth" (taken from IVP's "A Place for Truth"). While many of the arguments for the necessity of truth were striking, the one that hit me hardest was the example of Pablo Picasso. You see, my wife and I had only just recently watched the movie "The Mystery of Picasso," in which the artist paints on film for all of time to record, but then destroys the paintings after the filming has been completed. I didn't understand this move at first. Why would someone destroy their art? Why would someone want to simply showcase their process on film, but then get rid of the results? It struck me at the time as possibly narcissistic - action driven by the ego of the artist.

But then Guinness used Picasso as an example of the ability of someone to manipulate others in the absence of truth. Apparently Picasso's friend Alberto Giacometti called him "a monster" because of the way he devoured people, especially women. Picasso called himself "the Minotaur," in reference to the mythological beast who devoured young maidens. When Picasso died, three of those close to him committed suicide, unable to live without this dominating personality (Guinness, 47). Suddenly, the "generosity" of the artist in showcasing his process on film takes on a different light. Perhaps the artist and his ego is simply seeking to manipulate the audience - to take them on a journey and then hurt them with the knowledge that what he created, he can also destroy. Now his generosity appears selfish and self-serving in the end.

Now I do not know Picasso's motives in filming "The Mystery of Picasso." No one does. But how could such a brilliant artist lead such a destructive life? How could so much evil coincide with so much intelligence and beauty? I write about this mostly because it troubles me so, but also because such men are exalted in academia for their talents, and yet their character is dismissed as inconsequential. If we asked the people who were affected by Picasso's behavior, however, they would not treat his character defects so lightly. Which legacy really matters - the one of the artist, who's paintings are priced so exorbitantly high - or the man, who treated women as objects to be used for his own personal gratification? We are so willing to overlook character in the midst of great accomplishments, but to what end? As Guinness puts it, it is only in the face of real evil, or real need, that we recognize the "signals of transcendence" pointing us to the higher ground of truth (51-52).

For now, I am challenged to find new words for what I believe and why I believe it. I have fallen into line with so many others in proclaiming the benefits of Christianity to the world - based on my personal experience (subjectivism), or that it works for me (pragmatism). Yet Guinness points out that Christianity is not "true because it works, it works because it's true." The fear of claiming the truth is being revealed to me by these statements. Will I stand by Jesus as the source of truth? Will I direct seekers of truth to find their answers in Him alone? The more I am influenced by the University, the more I find myself noncommittal. Sure it's fine for me, but others? I need a greater love for the truth, and a greater love for others to share that truth with them as the truth. And to remember that it doesn't stop the conversation, but really gets it going.