'Unless you are the queen of England, you probably don't live in a museum. We might visit a museum occasionally or, for many of us, just once or twice in a lifetime. Museums preserve the history of a nation or civilization, displaying the best achievements of artists and artisans over decades, centuries or millenniums. I've always been fascinated by the contrast between the order and prestige of museums - where works of art are displayed in rooms gleaming with marble and stationed with security guards - and the places where most artwork is made: in dingy warehouses in low-rent districts, in studios splattered with paint or piled with debris. The most important visitor to the museum is not the patron or connoisseur, but the artist, in her paint-splattered pants, who comes to the museum to pay respect and be inspired by those who have gone before her. The museum preserves the long conversation about what art is, and the community of artists labor with the hope of making their contribution to this ongoing dialogue, that one day their work will be worthy of display.
For seekers of the Way, the buildings, rituals, documents and theologies of the Christian tradition serve as a rich museum that inspires our efforts to practice the way of Jesus. They remind us that we are part of an unfolding story and an ongoing conversation about what it means to live as "children of light" (John 12:36) in our time and place. But we don't live in museums. The place where we create our "art" isn't in the clean and well-ordered world of books, historic institutions or even public gatherings, but in the grit and messiness of daily life and in our relationships with one another. The question for us is, how will we act courageously together to make our contribution to this unfolding story?' (Practicing the Way of Jesus by Mark Scandrette, p. 40)
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