Art as Service

Last night I went to see Bruno Mars at Soldier Field in Chicago. I had mixed emotions about going. I love the music and have always wanted to see him in concert. But Soldier Field seemed overwhelming. I preferred an inside arena with temperature-controlled conditions and comfortable seats. Either way, I’d have to deal with the crowd.

Call it age, but I don’t love large crowds. It isn’t the number of people as much as it is the effort it takes to navigate through the space. The long walk from wherever you parked to the venue and the sea of people everywhere. It doesn’t bother me if I am heading to a Michigan football game. The other Michigan fans are as much a part of the experience as the game itself. Not to mention, the comfort of jeans and a Michigan sweatshirt. Concerts demand that you look good while walking a country mile. And I won’t even get into the 7:30 start time that would surely include at least two opening acts.

All of that is to say that, at the core, I wanted to decline the invitation. But my personal commitment to myself during this decade of my life is to be more spontaneous without overthinking things. So I decided to go.

Negotiating the crowd to get to the concert started in the car, a mile and a half away from the venue. We had to exit the freeway and travel a mile in the opposite direction to find our way back to the stadium. Fortunately, my husband bought a parking pass, so we didn’t have to worry about where to park once we finally got there.

We didn’t get to our seats until 8:30. A full hour after the concert started. The second opening act was performing. I had no idea who he was, but there were people, mostly women, standing up dancing while they taped it with their cellphones. Even though the music wasn’t bad, I just wanted him to get off the stage. As I looked around the stadium, I questioned whether it had really been worth it to come.

About 45 minutes later, the song “Nothin’ on You” began to blast over the speakers. The crowd went mad. Everyone stood up, waiting for Bruno Mars to take the stage. Then the music stopped, and a video came on with Bruno Mars in a church kneeling at a pew. And then he prayed:

“God, I thank you for giving me another day to do what I love. All that I ask is that you protect everyone in this audience, protect everyone on this stage, give my band and I the power and strength to give this city a show they’ll never forget. Amen.”

I’m not sure I have the right word for what happened in that moment. There was something disarming about seeing a man who had just sold out Soldier Field two days in a row drop to his knees and simply say thank you. No performance. No fanfare. Just gratitude. And standing there, something settled in me. I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Over the last several months, my devotional and bible study time has centered around how God uses art. So when Bruno Mars knelt in that video, something in me recognized it. I thought about how rarely I stop to thank God before I sit down to write. How I take the time, the resources, and the calling itself for granted. And his prayer didn’t stop at gratitude. He asked for protection over everyone in that stadium. He asked for the strength to give the city a show they’d never forget. It was art as an act of service.

That stayed with me. What would my writing life look like if I began not with a to-do list or a word count goal, but with a simple thank you and a request to be used well? It would stop being about me and my writing and my goals. It would become about what God might do through me.

I’ve been thinking about what my version of that prayer would look like. I haven’t figured it all out yet, but I know it would start with thank you and end with a request that my work be a blessing to my readers.