Adorning the Dark by Andrew Peterson (2019)

Posted on 2024-12-18 by thelittleman

A precursor to The God of the Garden (2021), this earlier Andrew Peterson book is all about the art and discipline of writing, with a heavy focus on writing music. It’s ultimate theme is that all humans are made in the image of God as little creators, and believers especially should pursue this truth and glorify God with it. As open, honest, and insightful as you’d expect any Peterson creation to be, this book was well worth my time.

Adorning the Dark was so filled with quotable lines, tips, and recommendations that I really just need to tell you to read it yourself—so, read it yourself! But since those three words don’t constitute a proper book review, I’ll have to go a bit further.

Note: this post includes Amazon affiliate links.

Buy the paperback
Kindle Edition
Get It on Audible

Peterson’s book delves into many different veins of creativity and writing, and here I’ll simply focus on a few that stood out to me. I’m sure you’ll find more that catches your own eye…when you read it yourself.

Discipline

I loved Peterson’s “just do it” attitude throughout this book. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve got 1,000 book ideas yet have never taken the time to sit down and write them. There’s no excuse for this! Time, employment, ministry, family—they all can be worked around, if only I had the discipline to do it. Peterson writes:

Being a writer doesn’t just mean writing. It means finishing. (18)

You can think and plan and think some more, but none of that is half as important as doing something, however imperfect or incomplete it is. Intention trumps execution, remember? … Sometimes you start with nothing and hope it all works out. Not sometimes—every time. All you really have is your willingness to fail, coupled with the mountain of evidence that the Maker has never left nor forsaken you. (32)

Either you’re willing to steward the gift God gave you by stepping into the ring and fighting for it, or you spend your life in training, cashing in excuse after excuse until there’s no time left, no fight left, no song, no story. (107)

Don’t let your inner critic keep you from writing. Know that your songs aren’t going to be perfect. Then as joyfully as possible, keep writing. (118)

Discernment

We’re surrounded by both Art and “art.” The kids and I have been watching The A-Team original series lately, and that’s most definitely “art.” Take a listen to Peterson describing the need for a bit more discernment about the arts we allow into our lives:

I’ve taken it upon myself to teach the kids the artistic equivalent of junk food—stuff that’s an easy sell, made for money, banal at best, and corrupt at worst—so they would know that while it’s okay to have a few guilty pleasures, it’s better to seek out that which edifies, enlightens, strengthens, and to do so more and more over time. If you want to be an artist, you have to cultivate artistic discernment. (114)

Escapism

I’ve long been a fan of this idea of escapism—the idea that it’s good and healthy to shut yourself off from the world and pursue fantasy, fiction, and the like—yet I’m also aware of how escapism can effectively distract me from my responsibilities and divine calling. Peterson expounds on this idea from his own experiences:

I nurtured a mostly secret affection for what were, more or less, fairy tales. Looking back, the same was true of my obsession with comic books and films and music. In each of those art forms I encountered a world that seemed more vivid than the one I was in. I wanted to enter that beauty. And I decided the only way to engage it, apart from my imagination, was to create it. I could draw, or play the piano, or write. If I could make something beautiful, maybe I could forget for a few moments how drab I was, how useless I felt, how lonely was this dull and lifeless life I had been given—and that dull life included Christianity as I understood it. (61)

Purpose

The following lines show a bit of Peterson’s own growth in understanding the gift he has from God to be a mini-creator that reflects and glorifies the True Creator. It’s a process we all go through, I think, and one we need to acknowledge if we’re going to grow at all in our ability to art in any meaningful way:

Since we were made to glorify God, worship happens when someone is doing exactly what he or she was made to do. (15)

That’s what really led [me] to writing, if I’m honest. In the beginning it wasn’t about glorifying my Maker—it was about declaring my own existence, for my own sake. It took a long time to realize that was a dead end. (18)

Love the Lord your God, and love your neighbor, too, by making worlds and works of beauty that blanket the earth like flowers. (154)

Sensitivity

This final section is more of a critique that a praise. I’m not an emotional guy, at least not nearly as emotional as Andrew Peterson is! Just take a look at what he wrote about reading Wendell Berry:

When I read the last few paragraphs of Wendell Berry’s towering novel Jayber Crow I felt such an overwhelming collision of sadness and joy that I literally slid out of my chair and curled up on the floor, weeping in a patch of sunlight. Other than the end of The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia I’d never been so leveled by a book. (45)

So not only have I never done the type of weeping he describes here, but I’ve also never done it three times—and over a novel to boot! Andrew Peterson is a sensitive guy, there’s just no getting around it. So as I read this book, I began to doubt if everything he says can actually apply to me. I mean, maybe I’ve got too much testosterone ever to become a great songwriter or poet or author. Maybe every great male author from the past had this special, sensitive side to his personality that has caused him to weep over a sunset or a great poetic line—and I’m just a normal run-of-the-mill dude who doesn’t, because I just don’t get it.

These thoughts rumbled in my brain during the week that it took me to enjoy this book, and they actually prompted some interesting conversations inside my family, as we discussed whether poetry was a masculine or feminine type of art. We talked about how some of the most famous poems and song lyrics were penned by men—and even how Peterson’s three examples in the quotation above were from dudes!

Is it possible that sensitivity (or “emotionalism”) is something a guy like me can actually harness and grow into, with a little practice? Is it possible that such emotionalism isn’t as bad as I grew up thinking? I’m 100% not going to get into the “toxic masculinity” discussion here—but maybe there’s room at least to discuss the problems of teaching boys that sensitivity is a bad thing. If the greatest artists and poets and authors (and preachers?) from the past (and present) had a sensitive side, then perhaps it’s not as bad as I grew up (in the 80s) thinking.

Food for thought.

Conclusion

This was a wonderful, inspiring, and thought-provoking book that was just as great as The God of the Garden. I loved Peterson’s constant recommendations to “put this book down and”:  listen to a song or Google a poem or read an entire book. I obeyed many of his promptings and am a better person for it. I truly enjoyed this book and look forward to whatever other nonfiction musings he publishes in the future….even if they make me question my masculinity again.

©2024 E.T.

Want more lists like this? Get Elliot’s Weekly Digest.

Read More from Andrew Peterson:

Read More about Music:

This entry was posted in Nonfiction - Christian and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

What do you think?