The Artist as Prophet, the Church as Collective: Pastor and Actor Rev. Lisa Cole Smith

in Conversation with Darby Brown

My goal was that we would have a generation of kids who would graduate thinking the place to go for support as an artist is a church. That would be just revolutionary.

Rev. Lisa Cole Smith is an actor, director, pastor, and creative entrepreneur in the Washington, D.C. area. She is the founding pastor of Convergence: A Creative Community of Faith in Alexandria, VA. She is also the host of the Be. Make. Do. soul|makers podcast, equipping artists to serve as prophetic critics and imaginative visionaries in the world.

Lisa received her BFA in drama from Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh and found work as a professional actor for many years before attending seminary and seeking a way to merge her calling as an artist and a person of faith. While in school, she founded Shadows of Light Productions, a theater company devoted to exploring the intersection of art, faith, and the human experience. In 2016, she received her Master of Theological Studies degree from the John Leland Center for Theological Studies and founded Convergence, a creative community of faith. She teaches classes at the John Leland Seminary and Wesley Theological Seminary on the subjects of worship, theology, and arts. Lisa is never happier than when she is staring up at the sky from her backyard hammock or deeply engrossed in some new creative projects.

The following transcript has been edited for length and clarity. A version of the conversation is available in the audio interview above.

Darby Brown: I'd love to hear more about Convergence. How did it come about? How exactly does it function? What are its values?

Lisa Cole Smith: I love the way that you describe Vita Poetica as artists creating from a spiritual lens. This idea of acknowledging that we all have a world behind the work, we all have perspective, and that informs what we create — I think [that] is a really subtle and powerful and important thing to acknowledge and understand, especially as an artist. That’s really what Convergence has been about. 

My whole journey began with trying to reconcile these two pieces of myself as an artist who believes in the power of art. Art is not just something nice. It’s essential for living — not just for the person creating, but for all of humanity. It’s something that’s a part of what makes us who we are. For me as a Christian, these two things go together seamlessly, but in so many circles, it’s either one or the other:  I’m okay as a Christian at the church circle, but the whole theater thing, like, that’s a little weird. Those are crazy people, and you have to do really questionable things to pursue a career in that. You know, there’s that sort of perception.

For me, there was this search to try to integrate these two pieces of myself. I wanted to put them together, and I didn’t understand why in so many places they’re not. Why doesn’t the church seem to understand more of what the arts do and what they’re really meant for? So that’s been my question and my quest since I was very young and through seminary, just exploring this intersection of art and faith. 

Art is not just something nice. It’s essential for living — not just for the person creating, but for all of humanity.

That’s where Convergence came from, the opportunity to start a community of faith that was really geared towards supporting the artistic community. We’re a small church, but we have lots of space, and so we can open up our space to the local artistic community expecting nothing in return except that they create. We made space available at a really affordable price and tried to provide supportive community and connections, interdisciplinary, through the city, by people being in the same space. But also trying to provide resources of support, of spiritual development, and of community through some of the programs offered and just being present. 

For almost, I’d say, 15–17 years, we have had this wonderful experience, both as a worshiping community in the city, but also serving local artists. Then during the pandemic, a long dream that had been below the surface started to blossom. We’ve shifted a lot of what we do. We’ve sold one of the buildings to fund this work, but we’re trying to really dive deep into being a resource of spiritual formation, of community support, helping people to get clear on what their calling is, and to have the tools, frameworks, and structures in place to be able to sustain [that] over the long term of [their] career. 

At this point, we’re aimed at supporting artists who would see their work and who would enter into work from the standpoint of prophetic critics and imaginative visionaries, who will help to tell the stories that we need, especially at this time, to be able to live [as a] human, in a way that’s sustainable and, I would say, the way that God intended it to be. To help us imagine possible futures other than what seems to be on the horizon, and to help us see ourselves, to look at ourselves in the mirror and be able to make different choices about how we engage with people. There’s just so much about what the arts do that I think sometimes, especially Christians who are in the arts, are reticent to embrace and maybe feel a little bit confused about. 

So we’ve launched into creating these resources, one of which is the Be. Make. Do. podcast that we’ve launched over the last year, helping artists to become who they were created to be, make what they were created to make, and do what they were created to do.

DB: Could you give some more examples of the programs and events that you put on?

LCS: It’s constantly changing over the years. We have this beautiful, open window space where we had a gallery, and we do open calls in the neighborhood, engaging local artists, commissioning work, commissioning exhibits around themes that we are struggling with or exploring. And then we might use the exhibit in our worship services. Our worship service might be to spend time in the gallery, find a piece that really speaks to you, write something in response to it, and then we share. That would be how we would kind of do “church.” But also, in that process, [we’re] finding new, emerging artists or mid-career artists. We would be teaching them how to finish out, you know, and how to put together your artist statement and speak in front of a crowd. So we did a lot of that kind of mentorship.

We also had an open mic for 16 to 22-year-olds for a while. We were kind of the hub of the northern Virginia DIY punk music scene for a little while, and that was really fun, just to be a part of these young people’s lives. My goal was that we would have a generation of kids who would graduate thinking the place to go for support as an artist is a church. That would be just revolutionary. Just to have that mindset that that’s the place you go. To see kids who started out performing for the first time or writing a song for the first time, who are now in their late twenties, are still performing, touring, you know, having really stuck with it and continuing to do really creative and wonderful things.

We’re a small church, but we have lots of space, and so we can open up our space to the local artistic community expecting nothing in return except that they create.

We’ve had some micro-granting dinners where we pull together the community to support local art projects. But also other things, like Artist’s Way groups. We’ve done a ton of Artist’s Way groups, and I think that’s part of what’s led to seeing how much [there is] the need for community among artists, to be in a space where both the spiritual side of you and the artistic side are gotten and heard without it having to be competition.

We have groups that meet weekly that are called spiritual collectives. It’s just really listening to a prompt and developing a practice of prayer or meditation throughout the week, and then we come together and we share — this is what’s going on with me, where God is speaking to me, this is what's happening. We just listen to each other. There’s no teaching, there’s no responding, there’s no whatever. I think that level of support as an artist is really important because it can be such a thankless, hard journey sometimes, you know?

DB: In many art forms, it’s such a solitary act as well. I’m a writer, and I’ve had conversations with other writers before about how it is so solitary. But then you also do need other writers, but it’s hard to find that support and find that community in others.

LCS: Yeah, I think that’s the number one thing that comes up, what I wish I had, a supportive community. And it’s not just people who appreciate your work, although that is important. I think it’s being able to see other people struggle. This thing that I feel bad about, that I struggle to sit down and write every day, you know, and keep myself glued to the desk. I must not really be a writer because I don’t love that part. And then you get around other writers and [realize] everyone else feels that way too. There’s nothing wrong with you, it’s okay. Sometimes that can be the difference between continuing to work and not.

DB: One thing that also strikes me about Convergence is that it’s not only a space where art and faith are coming together, but people of different art practices and art forms are coming together. I would love to hear about what that's like, having so many different kinds of creatives coming together.

LCS: I believe really strongly in an interdisciplinary community, because I’ve seen this in groups, when you get people together, especially around peer mentoring. That's something we’re going to develop, hopefully, some peer mentoring groups and interdisciplinary mentoring groups. Someone can come, let's say as a writer, and say, “This is a challenge. I’m creatively blocked.” Or, you know, “I’m trying to decide whether I should self-publish or go with a publisher.” There are these different challenges, and to talk to a dancer about things, or a rock musician, or a classical musician, or whatever, it’s so interesting how different people come at things. 

We’ve all developed differently through our training. My training as an actor gave me a lot of body awareness, awareness of the way that it functions and the way that I make sounds. Also textual [skills], like paying attention to how text works and paying attention to other people, and improvisation. These are all skills that I bring to the rest of my life. Same thing with dancers and visual artists, the way they see the world. There’s just this treasure trove of skills that we have. I think we don’t even realize a lot of times how valuable those are in other arenas. And then when you put together an interdisciplinary group and you’re trying to solve a problem or share something, they will come up with creative solutions based on the skills that they have that you don’t have just because you don’t have that training. But you’ll have stuff that they don’t have. And all of a sudden, these doorways into other worlds and other superpowers [open to you]. 

DB: I’d love to hear about your own creative background and your training as an actor. Have you always wanted to pursue creative practices? How did that come about as a desire in your life?

LCS: I wanted to be an actor since I was eight years old. That’s because I watched movies a lot. We lived overseas when I was little, and we didn’t have TV or anything. We just had videotapes of a couple different movies. But that was a gateway into this other world. And I’ve always had a huge imagination. I love to read, and I just wanted to enter into the stories. So I figured if I was an actor, then I would get to live all these different lives, and I wouldn’t have to choose.

I did theater in high school, and I went to Carnegie Mellon University for drama. So I had the privilege to have classical training in acting and movement and so many amazing things. [I got to] experience the power of theater, both being a part of that kind of experience, which is collaborative, but also the relationship between the performer and the audience. After I graduated from school, I moved to LA, because movies were always what I wanted to do. But I’d also fallen in love with theater, and now I’m a 20-something in L.A. in the early nineties, and this isn’t what I was looking for. So that kind of sent me on a journey to figure out, like, what is my calling, really? What is my purpose? 

I’ve always had a huge imagination. I love to read, and I just wanted to enter into the stories. So I figured if I was an actor, then I would get to live all these different lives, and I wouldn’t have to choose.

And this is around the same time [when I was wondering,] do the acting stuff and the God stuff go together? I toured with a Christian theater company that did a lot of performances in prisons, nursing homes, and schools. For me, it was an experience that helped me to see how powerfully theater can connect to the inner person of somebody else so immediately and get to a deeper level of emotion and vulnerability. It brought out things in myself, and I really matured and grew myself through the acting experience. I was really interested in art and social practice and artist–community engagement. And so I went to seminary asking questions, and I started a theater company there, where I was doing plays that were focused on asking some of the bigger, substantial questions, like where is God when bad things happen?” And, “Can we address hard issues through a spiritual lens?” Not coming at it from a “Christian” perspective, but coming at these very foundational themes with lots of thought partners and having conversations and dialogue after each show.

It’s been a constant melding of artistic practices as a way to help people process and engage those existential questions. Convergence then became an opportunity for me to connect with visual artists, musicians, dancers, poets, all of these other kinds of people, and other art forms. I don’t know why, I have this passionate heart for artists, I love them. I think that what they do is so important and has such an important, meaningful calling in the world. And so while I still perform sometimes and I have the opportunity to be really creative within the organization, I think my real passion at this point is really helping artists to be strong and do what they’re meant to do.

DB: When you were acting, did you have any specific influences on your art as an actor or any particular stories or characters or a specific project that stood out in your mind?

LCS: Well, I have always been very interested in the work of Augusto Boal. He does Theatre of the Oppressed, the idea of using devised theater. People create work through their own stories or experience. It’s using art as a tool for engagement and action and not just seeing something [and saying,]“Oh, that was nice.” People truly practiced a new way of seeing or being in the world.

So that’s definitely influenced all of my work. But, I mean, I love Judi Dench. I’ve loved her since I was in 7th grade. I think she has such an amazing presence. It doesn’t matter what she’s in, she’s fully present in the moment, and I want to be able to live that way. I heard her talk about how she’s able to do that, and she said that she gave herself permission to just always feel what she feels and not to mask it. So, if she feels like laughing, she laughs; if she feels like crying, she cries; if she feels like swearing, she swears. I think there’s something about that — her emotional instrument is so available to her because she doesn’t edit it or hold it back. I think that that’s a real key to being able to be present and be in the moment and be in a relationship with other people. To make honest art is to be able to have access to all those different parts of yourself. She’s another hero.

DB: I want to ask more directly about your faith background and whether you grew up with a faith practice or if it came later, and then how has it influenced your art?

LCS: My family comes from a Baptist background. Both my parents come from southern Virginia, and so we went to my grandmother’s old country Baptist church. My memories of that are like warm summer afternoons at a church picnic or something. You know, it was very, just good. My grandmother was very involved in the church and very involved in mission support. I’ve always had women in my life who were very involved in that way. So I’ve had these models of leadership within the church, which is interesting because, by the time I was in high school, a lot of weird things started happening with Baptists and women being excluded and not being allowed to be in ministry. So that was a little bit of a “What is going on?” feeling for me. 

But for the middle part of my childhood, we lived in Saudi Arabia, which was a totally different culture, one where it was actually illegal to worship as a Christian. So we would get together in people’s living rooms, and we’d have to meet in a different living room each time. It had to be secret, because if we were found out, we would have been deported. It was no joke. As a kid, that kind of lends a little extra air of like, wow, this is kind of cool. You know, the church seemed like this really subversive cool thing. 

I believe that God gave us the arts as a primary way of bridging the gap between human reality and spiritual reality.

I think I’ve always had a very alive relationship with God. I've always known he was there. I had a very strong sense of God's presence in my life, even though the institutions around me had different perspectives on things. But when I did tour with that theater company I was talking about, on Sundays, we would try to perform at different churches. And so, I’ve been in probably almost every denomination in churches around the country and in Sweden and some in Germany as well. I think I’m very open ecumenically. I really appreciate the different expressions of the Christian faith, and I’ve definitely had lots of opportunities to evaluate for myself what I believe and where I am. But I am very comfortable being in this space. Convergence has a Baptist history, and we belong to some local Baptist associations, but our congregation is very diverse in where they’re coming from. There’s lots of room for us to be able to engage with each other, and I feel comfortable in that.

DB: More generally speaking, how do you feel spirituality and creativity influence each other? What do they have in common? And are there any tensions between them or in the space where they need or can be explored?

LCS: That’s a good question. Yes, I absolutely believe that there are. I personally believe that art is a language. I think it is a spiritual language. Coming from a Christian perspective, I believe that God gave us the arts as the primary way of bridging the gap between human reality and spiritual reality. There are just things that we can’t always express through logical, didactic use of words. Sometimes there are things that we feel and want to express that we can’t even [put into] words. And then sometimes even after all the words have been said, you need something else to express that. I might read a poem that you’ve written and feel like there’s something about Darby that I now get, that touches a deep place in me that we would never have gotten to just in our conversation. I think that churches are in great poverty because they fail to recognize [that], or they’ve let it go. There’s this whole spiritual language, and I don’t just mean educational or evangelistic tools. I mean heart stuff that is necessary. I think prayer can be a visual thing, and it can be auditory. I believe that they’re linked. It was not created as something that should be separate. It’s not art and then spirituality. They were created together. They’re meant to be together, and it’s been separated. That’s not its natural state. 

I think most artists are deeply spiritual people.

I think the tension that I see in the 20th century with the way that societies have treated artists as god figures or, you know, buying into this idea of art for art’s sake. All of these things are very dissatisfying, because I think most artists are deeply spiritual people. When I talk to artists of all different kinds, they are considerate, deep humans, and they are questioning and desiring to connect with something, to feel a sense of connection. And when churches and religious institutions say, “You can’t ask those questions, you're not qualified to think about it that way.” You know, what is a painting? What is a poem? What does a story have anything to do with the Bible? Because it’s not listed out, you know, check, check, check, check, check. Get out, basically, is what artists hear. Either sit down and shut up, or get out. And I’ve seen those two choices that artists have to make of like, Okay, I’ll play by the rules, or I think I just have to go outside of this system to be able to be fully free. 

There’s a fear from the Christian side or the church side that art itself will become the religion, and art itself will become an idol. I think that is a mistaken understanding of what art does and what idolatry is and an abdication of responsibility on the side of the church to realize that, if people are spiritual seekers, and they don’t have a home and they don’t have people who can handle them to be in discipleship and relationship with them, then they’re going to create another religion. We’re all going to make up our own thing because we need it. I think artists especially know the truth of that. So I think that’s the main tension, and it’s only because there’s this gap that’s not meant to be there. The tension comes from not being home and not being able to bridge that divide. I’m sure lots of people would argue with me, but that’s how I feel.

DB: Have you had any challenges with being both an artist and a spiritual person?

LCS: Yeah, I think that’s really where this soul|makers program and the Be. Make. Do. podcast and all of this has come from for me, because I, as a younger person, really struggled with how to integrate these two parts of myself. I felt like I was going to betray one side or the other side of me in this pursuit, because I didn’t feel confident enough in what it meant to be a Christian. Especially for an actor, you’re gonna take on roles that are all kinds of different things. Growing over time and developing a more sophisticated understanding of, what theology is meant to do, which is to wrestle with and grapple with what it means to be human and part of the kingdom of God and part of this world and that world. And that’s messy. It’s very, very messy. I think artists are really brave because they go into the messy places. I definitely struggled with that for a while. 

Theology is meant… to grapple with what it means to be human and part of the kingdom of God.

This program that we’re putting together, soul|makers, is a result of lots and lots of research and working with artists, talking with people, and understanding contemplative spiritual practices and spiritual formation. There really are tools and structures and answers to a lot of the questions that we struggle with as artists, and we don’t have to spend so much time in angst around that stuff. We [can] get really secure even in just understanding, like, what’s my definition of success? You know, when I realized it had been ten years that I was the pastor at Convergence — which, by the way, I never wanted to be a pastor, never, ever, ever. Even going to seminary, that was the last thing I thought I was going to do. I thought I was going to continue with this theater company. And ten years in, going, Oh, my gosh, when was the last time I was in a play? You know, am I still an actor? Who am I now? I don’t know. Did I betray everything about myself? But I think you can get into a lot of trouble by evaluating your journey based on somebody else’s career path, especially as an artist. We just don’t have color-by-numbers kinds of careers, and you can drive yourself crazy forever looking at somebody else’s paper to see if you’ve got the right answers instead of really taking time to think, to understand what motivates you to create and then trying to decide what success or faithfulness look like for you, and being able to develop that path and find the support you need to do that. You have to let go of the other stuff. I think that was definitely a struggle for me that has been very, very freeing to find ways to use those gifts and blossom and see myself as an artist in a much broader term.

DB: Do you have any advice for other artists who have a spiritual practice?

LCS: I think finding at least a couple of other people that you can meet with regularly who are engaged in the same or a similar practice, to be able to share the ups and downs of life. One of the things that I found with our spiritual collective is it’s so beautiful to come together in a space, week after week, with a group of creatives who are all going through various things. One week, you know, I might come and feel like I’m on top of the world, all the relationships are great, the work is coming great, I’m feeling connected to God, it's awesome. And then I stop sharing, and somebody else will share and their story is this is the worst week ever, everything is going wrong, I’m never going to get another job, I’m so angry at God. For me, I find that on the days when I’m the one who feels like nothing is going right, it just feels so good to know that somebody else is experiencing joy, so maybe next week will be my turn. [It’s important] for the person experiencing the high to remember that they really got to pray for that person. So, how can I reach out and support or be grounded, or know when you do hit that bump that so-and-so had that slump three weeks ago, and they’re okay. I think that's probably the biggest [piece of advice]: to find ways to get connected, even if it's just two or three other people who really can get where you are coming from, so that you can not be discouraged by voices who tell you you’re doing it wrong. If there are things that are holding you back, from a religious perspective, from pursuing a particular through line in your work, or there’s a place you’re afraid to go, I would say to go into that thing — whether that’s going to the Bible, going to practice, going to whatever it is, to find out and answer those questions, but not to be satisfied with, oh, I’m angry about this, or I’m afraid of this, or I have a problem with this because of whatever happened in my past, so I’m just going to stay there. Don’t stay there, get free, go ahead and address it. There is a way to examine it, free yourself, and make what you gotta make.

DB: Thank you so much for this conversation. I personally feel like the work that you do is so moving, powerful, and important, so thank you so much.

LCS: I appreciate that very much.