GOOD, BETTER, BEST
I have been involved in discussions of faith and the arts for over 50 years in my various roles as a practicing multimedia artist, author, and educator, across North America and Europe. After decades of teaching in Christian universities, I also did community education and developed mentoring programs. Although the issues and technologies have changed over time, the basic questions of how to live, both as a Christian and as an artist, remain pretty much the same. One of those questions that remains paramount emerges from our understanding of striving for excellence within a consumerist, celebrity-driven culture which considers ‘Fame and Fortune’ the pinnacle of success.
Self-improvement and doing one’s best are admirable goals, and achieving something we have worked hard for can mean we have made life better for ourselves and for others. However, alongside our celebration of success and the drive to become better, we have also promoted the idea that to not be at the top, to not achieve our goals, to not win, means we are a ‘loser’, that we are ‘less than’, we are ‘not enough.’ We are, in essence, a ‘failure.’ These paradigms in both the secular arena and in the Christian church have obscured the alternative agenda of serving instead of competing—a concept contrary to almost every voice we hear around us. We all want the best for ourselves and for our children (who we teach to be leaders, not servants), but what really is ‘the best’?
As I was watching some of the Winter Olympics this year, I was intrigued by the excitement and disappointments of both the athletes and the audiences over winning and losing—especially when it was by a fraction of a second or a single point. It felt like those who failed to win a medal let themselves, their teams, and their countries down. But considering the sacrificial, extremely hard work each of these athletes did to even get to the games, how could any of them be considered losers? What is a true winner, and what are the markers of true excellence?
Whether in sports, business, or any other area of life, too often we feel, consciously or unconsciously, that we are in a competition, and we judge ourselves based on our ability to achieve whatever the ‘gold medal’ means to us. And we sometimes judge others according to predetermined, sought-after standards of excellence, success ideologies, and social norms.
Not all of us are looking for an Oscar, but as artists, we might lose a competition, or our projects may fail to get the attention we had hoped for, or our play or our poems may not yet be published. But just as an Olympic athlete, those losses don’t mean we are failures. They just mean we are human, living with many personal and social challenges. Not everything we do will work, especially not the first time we try. Recognition, power, and productivity, or lack of them, are the result, not only of our own skills and efforts, but of many circumstances that we cannot control. It is just too easy to judge human value on strength and weakness, or so-called success and failure.
Fortunately, “the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” — 1 Samuel 16:7
In 1997, I attended ‘DOCUMENTA,’ a highly respected contemporary art exhibition that happens every five years in Kassel, Germany. I drove there from the Netherlands with a friend who was not an artist. After the first day of going through the exhibits, I came back to the hotel completely discouraged. I told my friend, “I will never have the power to do strong work like I saw today.” In her wisdom as a Dutch farm girl, she replied, “Perhaps you don’t need more power. Perhaps you need more grace.” Her words shot a much-needed arrow through my ego, and I knew I would never have the courage to continue making art if I continued comparing myself to others. I had to accept what I had and trust God for the rest. We may have five talents or only one, according to Matthew 25, but we are not told it is better to have five. We are only told not to bury those we do have but to invest them. We just do not all come to the table with equal resources—that is, except when we draw from the unlimited power of God, and then our resources are unlimited.
“‘Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,’ Says the Lord of hosts.” — Zechariah 4:6
So, what do you do if you are not, are not yet, or may never be, ‘the best’ or be well known for what you do or say or write or sing or dance? If you are a poet, what if you are not someone like Luci Shaw, who is being honored in this issue of Radix? According to a recent tribute from Regent College, in Vancouver, Canada (Remembering Luci Shaw. Regent College December 4, 2025), she was a prolific poet of excellence, a highly esteemed teacher, a passionate, generous, and hospitable woman of faith, and a devoted wife, mother, and grandmother. Those are big boots to fill. Do we see her success in so many areas of life and become jealous or discouraged, or feel like a failure as I did at DOCUMENTA? Do we give up because we think we will never be excellent enough to qualify for the ‘finals’? Or can we look at the exemplary life and career of someone like Luci Shaw and be able to rejoice in their success? (Romans 12:15)
I once belonged to a large, wealthy, denominational church in the 80s. It had a well-trained choir and orchestra, and I remember every Sunday, as people left the building, they would be saying, “Wasn’t that beautiful music?” One Sunday, a group of seniors from a nearby nursing home was invited to sing. Their voices were weak, sometimes cracking, and not always in tune, but they were singing with all their hearts. When they finished, there was barely a dry eye in the congregation. And that morning when people left, they didn’t say, “Wasn’t that beautiful music?” They said, “Wasn’t that beautiful!”
Art Historian, Hans R. Rookmaaker, who was a mentor and dear friend of mine, used to talk about “beautiful meaninglessness,” by which he meant something that was technically perfect but without heart. We might notice and appreciate the skill that is used and praise the artist for the execution of their craft which is fine, but for life-giving beauty to come through us and if we want something more than ourselves to be seen, we need to be open, vulnerable and generous—with our one talent or with our five—doing what we do with all our heart.
So perhaps being excellent isn’t just about being ‘the best.’ Perhaps it doesn’t mean being on top of the success ladder where everyone can see us, or having power and making money, or having a celebrated career, although none of those things are bad. True greatness comes from somewhere we don’t expect it—serving others. Jesus said, “…whoever desires to become great among you, let them be your servant.” — Matthew 20:26.
Luci Shaw writes in her poem “He Who Would Be Great Among You”
…Why does this whiff of fame
and greatness smell so sweet?
Why must we compete
to be first? Have we forgotten
how you took simply cool water
and a towel for our feet?
TRANSFORMATION
I am from a generation of artists of faith who lived through decades of poor art from the Christian community, and many of us made striving for excellence a necessary priority to change that. Things are different now, but mediocre, thoughtless, and cliché work is still an unacceptable offering and does not show love to our neighbor. We need to hone our skills and our thinking to do and to be the best we can. But self-improvement should not be for self-aggrandizement but to be responsible stewards of our talents as we invest them in the restoration and healing of a wounded world and in the celebration of Life. As Marilynne Robinson has said, “To do something with excellence is an act of generosity.”
In a culture driven toward ‘fame and fortune,’ it can be a challenge to be, as scripture says, content in whatever state we find ourselves (Philippians 4:11). Yet, what would it mean if our ambition were first to please God and serve others? What rewards might there be besides applause and pay cheques?
“Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than themself. Let each of you look out not only for your own interests, but also for the interests of others.” — Philippians 2: 3-4
As artists, we know how the creative process of reworking something can make it better in the end. This is how life is. We can learn from our mistakes and can rework them. The next thing we do will be easier because of this restoration process and the wisdom we gain through it. We need to clean up what we messed up, but then we need to go forward, taking the risk of failing again – but with new hope that in the end, with God’s help, we can do better—knowing “All things DO work together for good…” (Romans 8:28)
Whether it is a failed painting or a failed relationship, our failures do not have to define us or determine our future. Being weak, foolish, or even empty-handed will not prevent us from being loved by God or from having a purpose. He does not choose us or use us because of our greatness.
“For you see your calling…that not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called. But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty; and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence.” — I Corinthians 1:26-29
My success does not depend on my strength and is not prevented by my weakness. Of course, I must strive for excellence and hone my gifts and try to overcome my weaknesses – but success in God’s eyes as an artist will not depend on my ability to create what are considered the best images or songs, or dances or poems or films, but on my willingness to be transformed into His image and to be motivated by love. Perhaps I may even earn an Academy Award or whatever is the ‘gold medal’ of my medium, and good work deserves to be celebrated. However, if it is only to boost my ego, the reward is temporary, and the applause hollow—as Emily Dickinson expresses so well in her poem, “Fame”:
I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us—don’t tell!They’d banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
TRUE EXCELLENCE
I wrote these lines at a difficult point in my life when I was feeling unseen and unheard, with no sense of belonging or usefulness.
I am not esteemed by those
I’d hoped would notice
Not heard by those I listen to with intentNot invited to the center
where they speak together
Not given back in ways that I have lent.I do not have the gifts
that make one strong
Nor means alone
To strengthen what remainsBut I have One
Who, greater than my criticsSees me clearly where I stand
Then says, directly to me,
‘You worm, Jacob,
Take my hand.’
The idea that God recognizes Jacob as a worm (Isaiah 41:14) and then extends His hand to him moves me deeply. A worm, of course, has no hand, and so the offer is ridiculous. It is the mystery and wonder of having a relationship with a God who acknowledges our fragile earthliness, but invites us, even so, to connect with His Spirit. To hold His hand is to be transformed from worm to butterfly. Our greatness will ultimately be about how we are transformed and what the Spirit of God does in us through the process. A caterpillar dissolves into a kind of soup before changing into a butterfly. We must also allow our ego-driven selves to dissolve so that we can become who and what we are meant to be by God’s standards.
I believe God wants us to flourish, to do the best and be the best we can, and to be excellent. Sometimes this might mean material gain and professional recognition. Sometimes we may have no recognized achievements and no awards. Yet the ultimate prize is knowing God, and the best treasures will be found in the dark places where we are in close fellowship with our Maker, holding onto His hand.
“I will give you the treasures of darkness and hidden riches of secret places, that you may know that I, the Lord, who calls you by your name, am the God of Israel.” — Isaiah 45:3
Any real, lasting success and all true excellence in my life and work is not because I am great, but because God is great in me.
Betty Spackman is a multi-media installation artist, painter, author, and educator who has worked and exhibited internationally for over thirty years. She has a background in theatre, animation, performance and video art and has written and illustrated art-related books, including A Profound Weakness: Christians and Kitsch (Piquant Ed. UK 2005), examining images of faith in popular culture. The more recent focus of her work has been on issues of animal/human relations as in, Found Wanting. A Multimedia Installation Regarding Grief and Gratitude, 2011. Her last major project, A Creature Chronicle. Considering Creation: Faith and Fable. Fact and Fiction, continues to address those issues, raising questions about the theories and practice of Transhumanism by comparing the use of creation narratives in science, faith, and art.