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Education
October 16, 2024
Few realize that some of the most potent theologians aren’t standing behind pulpits but designing structures and engaged in art. Architects and artists are the unseen cultural conductors, pouring their presuppositions into concrete and canvas. If you want to understand what a society values, just look at what they build. Modern architecture, for instance, offers a grim commentary: homes that function as glorified bunkers for sleep and parking, not for life. Remember front porches, where neighbors once exchanged pleasantries and the odd casserole recipe? Well, they’ve been replaced by yawning garages big enough to shelter a small army. Inside, the heart of hospitality has been gutted in favor of sterile, individualist cubicles where the only communal activity involves gathering around a glowing screen to ignore each other collectively.
Most modern homes aren't exactly brimming with thoughtful room structure and square footage that accommodates future generations of children or grandchildren. It's as if the architects, armed with blueprints and contraceptives, have said, “Two kids, a television, and a dog is plenty, thank you.” But I digress.
With its soulless efficiency, modernity has trained our gaze downward, dulling our once-innate sense of reverence. We stumble through life, never having stood in awe of majesty, much less bowed before it. And in our ignorance of true glory, we find ourselves utterly incapable of reflecting it in anything we create or pursue.
The word "excellence" has become cheap currency, spent freely on things that hardly warrant the term. When everything is labeled "excellent," even as standards plummet, we ought to wonder if the concept has any meaning left. Modernity, that great hollow force, has redefined excellence to mean efficiency. Excellence has become synonymous with quick results, mass production, and the bottom line. Forget craftsmanship that stands the test of time—give us something cheap, functional, and instantly gratifying. Love, time, thoughtfulness, and service have no place in such a scheme. Instead, we get cold, utilitarian spaces, art that requires neither skill nor soul and a life lived in pursuit of shallow convenience. "Less is more," modernity cries—but "less" is just a cover for cutting corners.
And let’s not forget modernity’s greatest offense: its utter disdain for history. The past is not a teacher; it’s a nuisance to be silenced. The past, with its weight of religion and morality, is a burden to be cast off. New is always better, right? And so we get a culture that treats history as something to be revised or erased, all in the name of "progress." But this severing of ties with our roots is nothing short of tragic—it’s a rejection of the relationships that make us humans made in the image of God. Instead of living in a web of meaning and community, we are reduced to cogs in a machine, valuable not for who we are but for what we produce. As David Wells so aptly put it, “Personal relations may actually become impediments; success in this world may well depend on one’s capacity to be impersonal if the efficiency of the business or enterprise requires it.”
This reduction of human life to mechanized function can be seen even in our language: food is “fuel,” effort is “energy,” and fatigue is a “shutdown.” We've become so good at turning ourselves into machines that even Darwin would nod approvingly. As Wells further explains, the worker, detached from any sense of responsibility for the product or the person buying it, is simply a cog, disengaged from excellence.
Modernity blinds people from beholding beauty, leaving them floundering in the murky depths of their own minds, grasping for meaning in the shadows rather than looking up toward the light. With its soulless efficiency, modernity has trained our gaze downward, dulling our once-innate sense of reverence. We stumble through life, never having stood in awe of majesty, much less bowed before it. And in our ignorance of true glory, we find ourselves utterly incapable of reflecting it in anything we create or pursue.
True excellence is more than mere functionality; it is craftsmanship imbued with beauty, quality, and virtue. It is distinguished by its ability to evoke humility, awe, delight, and wonder—pointing ultimately to the glory of God. At the root of excellence is love—love for God and love for neighbor. In this way, excellence is a profoundly moral pursuit, guided by a relational center and an artistic vision that seeks to reflect the beauty of our Creator.
Excellence, as a mark of distinction, means standing apart from all else. For Christians, this distinction is seen in our love for one another (John 13:35). This love, which flows from our faith, seeks the highest good of our neighbor—wanting them to experience truth, beauty, and goodness. These are the core ingredients of excellence, and they inspire, uplift, and nurture. Excellence demands thoughtfulness, service, and sacrifice, just as our faith calls us to love extravagantly. Excellence leaves indelible impressions and is unforgettable.
Excellence, however, has many enemies. Fear stands chief among them: the fear of what people will say, the fear of losing one's job, the fear of standing out. Poor leadership and bureaucratic red tape also conspire against it, smothering creativity and drive with endless procedures and policies. Emotional manipulation clouds judgment, and poor communication—the silences, the evasions, the mangled words—only compounds the problem. Incompetence, that old and persistent foe, thrives where skills are lacking and learning stagnates. Illiteracy, both literal and intellectual, ensures that thinking, reading, and reflecting are sidelined in favor of mindless consumption.
Then there's pragmatism—the mantra of the mediocre: "The end justifies the means." Who cares how shoddy the process is as long as the profit rolls in? And then there’s survivalism, the belief that life is nothing more than a scramble to endure, which crushes any desire for beauty or virtue. Irresponsibility allows us to believe that someone else will pick up the slack, while conformity lulls us into accepting mediocrity because, well, everyone else does it this way. Envy, laziness, and selfishness round out the crew, ensuring that ambition is dulled and the pursuit of excellence dismissed as too difficult or too costly. Meanwhile, busyness—the empty rush of activity that leaves no room for depth—ensures that excellence is choked out, unable to flourish in a world that values speed over substance. Ingratitude completes the circle, keeping us blind to the blessings and opportunities that might otherwise spur us on to greater heights while we embrace victimhood.
Excellence, thankfully, also has allies. First and foremost is the worship of God, who is the ultimate standard of excellence. Conviction, standing firm in truth, is another powerful friend, keeping us steady in a world that prizes compromise. Stewardship, the careful management of the gifts and opportunities God has entrusted to us, ensures that we treat our work not as drudgery but as a calling. A love of learning fuels the pursuit of excellence, driving us to grow, innovate, and master new skills.
Responsibility and humility are close companions on this journey, reminding us that excellence is not about ego but about service—both to God and to others. Practice and mastery, built up over time, help us hone our craft, while integrity ensures that we maintain our standards, even when it’s costly. Gratitude, creativity, and artistry breathe life into our work, adding beauty and joy to even the most mundane tasks. Attention to detail, a focus on building things that outlast us, and the ability to communicate effectively are all essential. And finally, confession and repentance keep us humble, while discipline and character push us forward, even when the going is tough. Excellence, in short, is the fruit of a life lived with creativity, intentionality, humility, and love.
To continue this legacy of excellence, we must reward it wherever we see it, nurturing a culture that values quality over convenience and beauty over efficiency.
So, how do we pursue excellence in a world that seems designed to resist it at every turn? We begin by revering God, recognizing that He is the epitome of excellence. Without a sense of divine beauty and majesty, we are left groping in the dark, unable to create anything of lasting value. Next, we remember who we are in Christ—children of God, heirs of His kingdom, ambassadors of His truth. If we truly believed this, imagine what we might achieve. Christians ought to be the most excellent in every field, shaping civilizations with truth, beauty, and goodness.
We must also appreciate and invest in excellent work, whether it’s listening to Bach, reading Shakespeare, or supporting businesses that embody excellence in service. To continue this legacy of excellence, we must reward it wherever we see it, nurturing a culture that values quality over convenience and beauty over efficiency.
Excellence isn’t just a lofty ideal—it’s a mandate. Christians, of all people, should be at the forefront of this pursuit, creating works that reflect the glory of God and point others to Him. We ought to be known for producing the highest quality in everything we do, from art to industry, from worship to work. The world may settle for mediocrity and functionality, but we serve a God who is anything but mediocre and more than merely functional. Let’s not just aim for excellence—let’s live it in every moment, every space, every endeavor, and every thought.
Wells, David F. No Place for Truth: Or Whatever Happened to Evangelical Theology? Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994.
