Often, a powerful expression of what is good requires some contrast in order to make an impact on us. This contrast may come in the form of a song that details the negative consequences of bad decisions—and describing those decisions in some detail is in fact necessary for the piece of art to have any impact. Or it could be any of the countless movies that explore the aftereffects of sin and then the stories of redemption (a concept that is both universally accepted yet distinctly Christian) that can follow. A movie like Mysterious Skin is one that many Christians might avoid at a cursory glance. Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays a teenage homosexual prostitute. But the film is a potent portrayal of the lasting affects of child sexual abuse. We live in an ugly world, and sometimes we need to face the ugliness head-on.

This isn’t to say “good” entertainment must be heavy or serious. Take light, fun entertainments like Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man movies—they are chaste in the sense that they refrain from the “taboos” (no profanity, gore or sexual content) and in fact promote selflessness, brotherhood, faithfulness, honesty, etc. Certainly nobody would consider these films spiritual or religious or even “Christian,” but in a sense they display many things consistent with a Christian worldview and so they could be considered in some sense “good”.

Or take the recent film Juno—which joins Bella and Knocked Up in a mini-trend of films about the decision to keep, rather than abort, unplanned babies. Juno was written by a former stripper (Diablo Cody) and pays little mind to a specifically Christian worldview—other than having the lead character’s big decision be influenced by a Christian peer gently protesting outside the abortion clinic in question. As critic Jeffrey Overstreet says, “Hopefully Juno will be embraced for its virtues”—which Overstreet noted as a rare portrayal of a “gruff but loving” father and a “loveable fool who knows more about loving a woman faithfully and truly than most grown men ever understand” as well as an avoidance of the “crowd-pleasing crassness and sophomoric indulgence” that mars other movies of this ilk. Embracing virtue—this is perhaps the cornerstone of how we find and celebrate the good in pop culture.

CELEBRATING THE TRUE

There are two kinds of truth—what we’ve called Truth and truth. The first truth, Truth with a capital T, of course refers to doctrinal, scripturebased, Christian truths. Jesus is this Truth (John 14:6). This type of truth statement (such as “in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,” “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” “no one comes to the Father but through me”) tends to require an acceptance of traditional interpretations of the Christian Bible and so, while true— certainly aren’t universally embraced. Truth with a little t is that type of truth that people from across cultural, social, political and even religious spectrums can embrace. Feed the poor. Clothe the sick. Love your neighbor. Beauty is good. God is love. None of us are perfect.

Pop culture does a terrific job of exploring truth with a little t—from Ira Glass’ This American Life to Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer to Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska. And this is self-justifying. It’s, to quote dear Martha, a good thing. We are interested in a truly constructive dialogue with the people God puts in our lives—all the more reason to be well-versed in how people wrestle with the good, true and beautiful. George Barna once said: “Don’t tell them what to believe but rather create a discussion with provocative questions that will engage them.” Our best artists do this so well. Steve Turner, the British author, once said, “The preacher can quote the artist, but the artist cannot quote the preacher—this is because their roles are different—the preacher’s job is to say ‘what is’ while the artist is tasked with asking ‘What if?’”

In 1996, years before we started Paste, we were having forward-looking discussions designed to solidify our approach to mainstream media that is true to our beliefs. Our fellow co-founder Tim Regan-Porter said, “An essential part of honest and faithful living is sharing what we believe to be the truth. That ‘truth’ includes both the real thing and pieces we’ve manufactured or picked up from various and sundry other places. As Christians, we must acknowledge our fundamental inability to earn our salvation, before we can really receive the wondrous gift of grace. In the same way, the pre-requisite for an open, honest discussion, for dialog, community and mutual respect is acknowledgment that we don’t have truth all figured out and wrapped up. Of course we should have the courage of our convictions, but we have to realize that we see through the glass rather dimly. Christians bring to the table a ball of truth that at its core is as solid as can be. It’s rock solid at the core, baby. But on the outside, it’s not too tightly wound. It has threads hanging everywhere and it’s sadly misshapen—downright warped. How can a finite expression of the infinite be otherwise? And if we start tossing that ball around thinking it’s the final version, replete with Commissioner Bud Selig’s signature, it ain’t going very far at all. And we deserve whatever ridicule comes.” Finding and celebrating the true requires humility.

CELEBRATING THE BEAUTIFUL

This is perhaps the simplest and least controversial concept of the three with respect to consuming popular culture. Like goodness and truth, beauty is a gift from God. The Bible teaches the idea of wonder and praises beauty—and we spend our lives awed and moved by beauty. It’s worth our time and attention.

One of the best things about working at Paste is the constant exposure to wonderful, surprising, imaginative creations. We constantly encounter that which is “lovely, excellent and worthy of praise.” Goodness and truth are a treat to find in art, but beauty is more than sufficient, and it’s everywhere, in every medium and every genre. The evidence of our legacy as creators, the reflection of God’s image in us all, is apparent in the strum of a guitar, the stroke of a brush and the arc of story.

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