Peterson, Andrew. Adorning the Dark: Thoughts on Community, Calling, and the Mystery of Making. Nashville: B&H Publishing Group, 2019.
I finished Adorning the Dark in about five days flat. It would have been four days if I hadn’t spent one of those days getting things done around the house instead of reading. I don’t think I’ve read a nonfiction book in a long time (if ever) that has drawn me in to the point where I lose all sense of time. Good fiction does that to me, but a nonfiction book has never had that effect. Adorning the Dark has skyrocketed to a place in the “top five” books I’ve read, just as over the past few months Andrew Peterson’s music has found its way to the top of my “music I love” list.
The book is organized topically, with memoirs from Andrew’s life thrown in amid the discussion of his various points. It’s kind of a series of essays on topics related to community, calling, art, and longing for home. His personal story is woven throughout, and if you’ve heard any of his music you can catch hints and echoes of his lyrics in the things he says. You’ll also pick up (both directly and indirectly) the backstory behind some of his songs and a deeper appreciation will grow within you for the honesty of his music. And if you haven’t ever listened to his music, you’re missing out. Open a new tab on your computer and go search out his songs. Start with the Behold the Lamb of God album, and please, do you yourself a favor and listen to the entire thing from start to finish in one sitting. After that, listen to Resurrection Letters Volume 2. Then Counting Stars. Then…well, you get the idea.
Despite being essentially a collection of thoughtful essays and tidbits of memoir, the book really has the feel of sitting across the able having a conversation with Andrew over a cup of coffee. He is real, down to earth, and relatable (even for those who aren’t aspiring musicians). Perhaps it is the fact that his personal life plays such a prominent role in the reflections he shares. What he has learned and now writes to his reader cannot be separated from the things he has experienced. Isn’t this true for all of us? Our advice and reflections would perhaps be appreciated more by those who listen to us if we took the time to show them how it connects to the things God has led us through…both the heights of joy and the depths of sorrow.
Also, if you’ve read any of the Wingfeather Saga, Andrew’s writing style in this book will feel familiar. Sure, he’s writing nonfiction here, but something about his style remains constant. There is a comfortable familiarity to the language he uses and the way he arranges words. I think its super cool.
If you are looking for practical advice on song-writing, you won’t find much of it here. As Andrew says, “what worked in my case might not (and probably won’t) work for you” (page 1). But don’t cast it aside as useless just yet. The vision cast in these pages might just inspire you and give you more practical help than a list of dos and don’ts would have. And if you don’t consider yourself an artist – don’t skip over this book. I promise that what Andrew has to say about calling and community will bless you even if you don’t intend to ever write a song lyric.
This book touched me at a deep level. It encouraged me on in my artistic and creative endeavors. Don’t give up. Silence the inner critic. Keep creating. Fulfill your calling. Find who God made you to be. Use your gifts. Bless someone. Lean into the community around you.
I recently read another book on culture and creating called Culture Care, by Makoto Fujimura. That book re-instilled in me a sense that I, that we, have been created to enjoy, explore, and create beautiful things. Adorning the Dark reminded me that while I won’t get it right on the first try, I need to keep at it. Keep trying. Keep creating. As Andrew Peterson would say, “Know that your songs aren’t going to be perfect. Then as joyfully as possible, keep writing” (page 139).
The book is marked with the same aching longing for our true home that Andrew’s music is marked by. His book and his music embodies what he declares are the marks of good Christian art – honesty, truth, and beauty. And humility. Andrew’s humility is sensed in the tension you feel throughout the pages – he speaks of accomplishments and things he has done and learned, but with a palpable hesitation to write of these things lest he come across as full of himself. So I’ll say it for him – Andrew Peterson writes some of the most meaningful and beautiful music I’ve ever heard, and his book is insanely touching and deep. I don’t think I have the words in my vocabulary to tell you what this book has done to my heart.
Andrew’s humility is also seen in the way that he does not hesitate to credit and call out those who have influenced and impacted him. From authors and musicians of the past to friends and songwriters who walk beside him (and, of course, his wife Jaimie), Andrew’s book is overflowing with gratitude for the people who have impacted his artistic endeavors. And for the God who has given him is talents and community. It reminded me to be grateful for those who have gone before and who have impacted me, especially those like Lewis, Tolkien, Piper, and now Peterson whose books have left a lasting mark on my soul. And again I am reminded of how deeply important it is to fill my bookshelves and Spotify playlists with good, beautiful, honest, and true art – to learn from the artists, to emulate them in my own endeavors, and to be pointed to the glory of Christ as I ponder the creations of his creatures.
I have nothing to complain about when it comes to this book. Perhaps I’ll just close with a few of the most meaningful quotes of the book. And I’ll be disappointed if you don’t go read this book at the next chance you have. Even if you don’t consider yourself an artist, I promise you won’t be disappointed.
“You and I are anything but irrelevant…God is making us into a Kingdom, a lovely, peaceful one, lit by his love for us flowing toward one another” (page 16).
“The Christian’s calling, in part, is to proclaim God’s dominion in every corner of the world – in every corner of our hearts, too” (page 18).
“If you wait until the conditions are perfect, you’ll never write a thing” (page 40).
“The trouble isn’t that there isn’t anything to write about; the trouble is that there’s too much” (page 111).
“We aren’t writers so much as gleeful rearrangers of words whose meanings we can’t begin to know” (page 130).
“The key is to delight in what you find delightful more than you bemoan what isn’t” (page 136).
“That’s community. They look you in the eye and remind you who you are in Christ. They reiterate your calling when you forget what it is. They step into the garden and help you weed it, help you to grow something beautiful” (page 159).
“The community you’ve been given is the one you have to learn to love” (page 171).