Paperclips

  Paperclips was on my instant queue for about a year before I finally removed it several months ago, certain that I would never actually get around to watching it.  Rachel and I can count on one hand the number of movies we have watched in the last seven months of our lives.  Caleb has greatly interfered with that routine, as well as the fact that Netflix doesn't have many good movies streaming.  (that said, we have watched Downton Abbey twice, and we're looking forward to Sherlock starting back up this coming Sunday.  Oh, and we're going to figure something out for when Batman comes out.  Because that looks awesome.)

  Somehow, I had no idea that Paperclips was based in Whitwell, TN.  My mom wants to go see the railcar this weekend, so I figured I should finally watch the documentary.

  Paperclips is about a project a middle school undertook over the course of four years.  They were studying the Holocaust, and one of the students asked a provocative question in relation to the number of Jews killed:  How many is 6 million?  It's a number that is nearly impossible for most of us to visualize, so they set out to collect 6 million paperclips.  The project stumbled along until a few catalysts came onto the scene, and soon it took on a life of its own.  The students ended up with over 29 million paperclips by the time the project was over, and they have a railcar that was actually used to transport Jews in Germany.  The railcar serves as the host for 11 million of the paperclips.  (One for each of the Jews killed, and they included an extra 5 million to symbolize the others deemed unfit that were killed by Hitler's regime.)

  The project is remarkable in how it brought a community together to remember this awful event in our world's history.  Not only were the kids in Whitwell changed, but those who came in contact with the project were also changed.  No one would have expected this to come out of this tiny community west of Chattanooga, but something small caught fire and grew far beyond what they could have expected.

  It's a valuable lesson for each of us--we don't measure the worth of our investments of time and energy by how we think they'll turn out in the eyes of the world.  We should measure them based on whether they are the right thing to do.  If we invest ourselves in what is faithful each and every day, God will take care of the rest of it.  We have to tirelessly seek out the most faithful path.  We have to resist sin and temptation and seek the good, the right, and trust that as long as we are doing everything possible to proclaim Christ, God will take care of what we can't control.  But let us not give up because the challenge is too great--may we remain faithful, even in the face of adversity, trusting in God always.

 

Of Gods and Men

  It's hard to believe that a movie watched at twice the normal speed can still seem slow, and that despite the slowness of the movie it can still be well worth watching, but both facts are true.  We'd had Of Gods and Men sitting on the mantle for weeks--I had selected it when Rachel was away and had never gotten around to watching it, and a movie about Algerian Trappist monks was not exactly her ball of wax to help her relax after a long day of work.  So I invested an hour (rather than 2) into watching it this afternoon.

  It's quite a story--it's the story of French Trappist monks in an Algerian town who have invested themselves in sharing Christ's love with their brothers and sisters.  They are a part of the community, and when the entire community is threatened by Islamic extremists, they face a difficult choice--to stay in solidarity with the community, or to flee.  They are well aware that they are risking their very lives, and yet the thought of fleeing gives each mixed emotions.

  It gives interesting food for thought, to think about what we give up when we follow Christ, about what we are willing to risk for the sake of the Gospel.  Obviously, most of us will never face the same type of choices the monks had to make.  But we each must sacrifice for Christ--we give up this life and take on the life of Christ, one that has defeated death.  But it doesn't make it easy.

  The life of discipleship is a hard choice, and we must choose daily to fight against the influence of the world to choose safety and comfort.  What does that look like in 21st century America?  How do we choose Christ in a world where our lives are not threatened because of our faith?

  I believe that it means we have to find those things that threaten our life in faith--to tirelessly root out the stumbling blocks, the greed and the comfort, the lust and the violence, and constantly die to Christ.  We have to work to choose to love our neighbor, to love our own family, those members whom we so often tune out in favor of our own personal entertainment.  We have to choose love, to choose to embrace the other, even in the face of fear and turmoil, even when we are threatened with the unknown.  We cannot stay safely within the world we know--but rather must boldly choose to serve and to love, and to remember that the old life has gone, the new has begun, in Christ Jesus, our Lord.

Cowboys and Aliens and Presbyterians...

  The movie ends, the credits roll, and I turn to look at John, with whom I had just watched Cowboys & Aliens, and we both said, "I am completely speechless."

  It's that amazing.  It's that entertaining.  It's not a great, Academy Award winning film, but Cowboys & Aliens was one of the more entertaining and exciting movies I've seen in a while.  It's worth it just to watch Harrison Ford and Daniel Craig kill aliens, in my opinion, but I'm a big fan of both, and in continuing a lifelong trend, Harrison Ford gets to yell about a family member being kidnapped.

  The plot in this one isn't too thick.  (One person on twitter suggested the plot had two pages.  The first said 'Cowboys' and the second said 'Aliens'.)  Basically, cowboys are busy fighting aliens who are kidnapping people and will soon destroy the planet.  There are some twists and turns to the plot, but it's fairly straightforward.  The aliens are clearly identifiable by the fact that they're green (we need more colors for aliens.  I'm tired of green.) and like to chew on people, and the cowboys are clearly the good guys, distinguished mostly by the fact that they're not aliens.

  If only this world were as simple.  The good guys and bad guys don't fall neatly into easily discernible categories.  Republicans and Democrats have been wrangling over the debt ceiling for the last few months, and most of it is so confusing that the only thing we can be sure of is that none of them are distinguishing themselves as particularly honorable.  If the bad half were clearly marked by being green or different looking, then we'd know more easily who to cheer for.

  The church is the same way.  Sometimes we know exactly which fight is the right one, but how much energy do we invest in stresses and struggles that we later realize simply weren't worth it?  How much easier would life be if we knew exactly which cause was worth the struggle?  How much time would we save if we could look at a cause and know that it simply wasn't worth the time and effort we would need to invest in it?  I wonder about the conversations and debates we have at the Presbytery level, and am often amazed at how much time we'll pour into a particular topic that seems to not merit that kind of commitment.

  How do we know where to invest our energy?

  When I read the Gospels, Jesus continues to pour his energy and love into the people around him.  In Bible Study this morning, we were reading about the blind beggar who shouted so loudly that Jesus stopped in his tracks to attend to his need.

  May we listen to the world with open ears, open eyes and open hearts.  We can't always see clearly who our enemies are, and it's hard to tell which causes are a waste of energy, but I believe that if we pour our energy and love into the people around us, each one made in the image of God, than God will do something amazing with that.  Sometimes our lives will be filled with battles in which it is easy to know what is right and what is wrong, but more often I believe that we inhabit a world where each decision has positive and negative ramifications, and it is my belief that by truly loving each person involved in the debate we can witness to Christ in the midst of all that we do.

Millions

  Rachel and I watched Millions the other night, the story of a young boy (Damian) in Britain who suddenly finds himself in possession of over 200,000 pounds that will soon be worthless.  He and his brother are racing against the clock to dispose of the money before it becomes worthless, and their attitudes toward doing so couldn't be more different.

  Damian is a bit of an odd character--he speaks with dead saints who appear only to him, and has a strong disposition toward helping the poor.  His brother, however, is soon obsessed with discovering how many toys the money can buy, and how much privilege it can gain him.  The stress begins there, and it only elevates as Damian witnesses the effect money has on others.

  It's a great movie, and if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend you do so.  It's a joy to watch, and seeing how the characters fall apart and come back together is an emotional rollercoaster where every twist and turn is more enjoyable than the last.

  As a Christian, I'm fascinated by the treatment of the money--Damian is caught up in the opportunity to give it all away, and he discovers that those to whom he wants to give it aren't always the innocent poor that he imagines them to be.  Just the same, his heart is pure, and he never seems to be tempted to invest the money in property or goods, like his brother.

  The money corrupts everyone else in the movie other than Damian.  They see it as an opportunity to better themselves, to secure their future, to grasp hold of what was not possible otherwise.  Damian argues for giving it away, but greed takes hold in the hearts of others and works so effectively.

  1 Timothy tells us that the love of money is the root of all evil, and Millions portrays what the love of money does to relationships, to the human heart.  When we view money as the best means to a good life, we can watch as that love will dominate our lives, affecting every one of our relationships.  Money soon becomes the lens through which we see.  When we view money as the most important thing, it crowds out everything else.

  Damian has a lesson to teach us, and Millions serves as a great vehicle for that lesson.  Perhaps the greatest riches of all is the wealth gained in using money as a way to show love to others.

The Queen

  Rachel and I watched The Queen the other day--it's one of those movies that we had wanted to see for some time, but other movies kept getting in the way.  It had been on once when we were on an airplane, but for some reason neither of us had watched it, but I think that both of us had regretted it ever since.  So we settled in...

  The Queen is the tale of the relationship between Queen Elizabeth II and newly-elected Tony Blair in the days following the very public and very tragic death of Princess Diana.  Tony Blair has his finger on the pulse of Britain, and the royal family has misread the situation completely, and the media jumps on the royal family's seeming cold-heartedness.

  The reality is that the royal family has grown up doing things a certain way, and the public no longer respects/desires them to act like that, so someone has to change, and it's not going to be the public.

  It got me thinking about the church--so often we stick (cling?) to our old ways, despite the fact that the greater public has moved forward, into a new age, often without the church.  The church demands flexibility, and so often the church responds with the same old solutions.  We hear with old ears, and so act in old ways, despite the fact that our hearts may share the same new passion for Christ.

  What does it take to hear in new ways, and to respond with new outreach?  As in The Queen, it often takes an outside force, be it a person or event, to lead us there.  But I believe it is possible to do through reflection and brutal self-honesty.  Where are we failing?  How can we improve?  How do we need to change?  Who is Christ calling us to be today?

  There are certain truths to which we must cling.  But Christ gives us new gifts and sends us forth into a new day--may we meet that with new answers that relate the old truth of Christ in new ways.  May we serve with courage and imagination, and may we listen with humility when someone suggests we try something new.  It just may be the breath of the Spirit blowing!

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

  I feel as though I should admit, up front, that I am a huge C.S. Lewis fan.  Perhaps that impairs my ability to see and criticize clearly, or perhaps that should make me criticize more boldly, but it strongly colors how I see his works.  Last night, Rachel and I watched the latest Chronicles of Narnia installation, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  And we both loved it.

  Now, this movie came out some time ago.  I seem to remember, back in the cobwebs of my mind, that it was not entirely well-received.  Correct me if I am wrong here, but I don't believe the reaction to this movie was a great one.  I also believe this is the last one they planned to make, which I now find to be terribly disappointing.  It's only the third in the series, and since it's not my money, I'm all in favor of them making them all!  (Seeing as how the Dawn Treader apparently has brought in over $450 million, I'm not sure these guys are hurting for money.)

  The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is, at the heart, a story of transformation.  Eustace, Lucy & Edmond's terribly annoying cousin, is brought along to Narnia for the voyage to search for the lost seven elders in a lonely and magical group of islands.

  The voyage is filled with adventure, intrigue and danger, all the things that make movies great.  There is plenty of suspense, and the film is beautifully done.  Even without Lewis' Christian message that is at the heart of the story, this is a great movie.

  But the Narnia stories aren't meant just to be exciting stories.  They're meant to tell a greater story, The story, of God's great love and how he is at work in us.  We see Aslan, we hear his voice and his message, and we are meant to examine our own lives, to see the places we have fallen short of how we are called to live.  We draw courage from God the same way the children in the story draw courage from Aslan--though we may not be sailing the seas, we, too, live an adventure for God.

  The transformation of Eustace is complete.  C.S. Lewis uses this great story to invite us into transformation.  Will we follow, or will we sit safely on the couch?

Restrepo

  I'd had Restrepo in the Netflix queue for a long time.  It's not one of those movies you sit down and watch on a casual Tuesday evening when you're hoping to relax.  On Wednesday night, Rachel and I watched Shaun of the Sheep.  Restrepo is a big step away from claymation.  But with all the recent news of war echoing across the world, between Tim Hetherington's death in Libya, one of the two men who filmed Restrepo, and with Osama Bin Laden having been killed last Monday, I thought it was due time I watched Restrepo.

  Restrepo is a documentary about an outpost in the Korengal valley in Afghanistan, named after one of the men who was killed early in the tour.  The outpost they establish in the valley is named after Doc Restrepo, and the film is about the lives of the men who fight their way around the valley, under constant attack in a foreign land, far from home.

  It's a movie that's hard to describe.  It's well done, in that it captures the men at rest and in war.  It highlights the tedium of waiting and the fear and terror of the attack.  I think, more than anything, it captures the challenge of this war.  I can't imagine what those soldiers go through, how they stay motivated to fight these battles so far from home, how they deal with the immense complexities and manage to stay focused to stay sane.

  And then the country expects them to come home and simply resume where they left off, pretending that this was just another episode in their normal lives, like they're supposed to forget everything they've seen and just fit right back into society.

  This documentary is hard to watch.  There are some funny moments, but I constantly worried for their lives.  I can't imagine being out on patrol, filled with the knowledge that the enemy may attack at any time.  I don't know how they do it.

  Restrepo renews my appreciation for the sacrifices the Armed Forces make.  I am grateful that they do what they do in the hopes of making this world a safer place.  They are sent around the globe, to places I've never heard of and can't pronounce, and they're expected to do everything right, every day, with people they can't see shooting at them.  I am grateful for their sacrifice & for the sacrifice of their families.

  And I hope and pray they can all come home safely.

The King's Speech

  Perhaps when you watch a movie affects how you view the movie.

  Rachel and I watched The King's Speech last Wednesday night, as the winds howled, as the hail crashed, as tornadoes devastated much of the southeastern United States.  Maybe the storm that was raging outside our windows made me view this movie differently.  We lost power a few times during the storm, but for most of it, we were comfortable in our basement, never threatened by the storm cells that claimed the lives of nearly 300 people.  We were comfortable on a night when so many were terrified.

  As a result, we didn't take much time to reflect on the movie, to let it sink it, to wonder about it, but I will say that the acting is superb.  How Colin Firth managed to capture the speech idiosyncrasies of King George VI is beyond my ability to imagine.  In the special features on the DVD they have the actual speech given by the King, and Firth nailed it, hesitations and all.  Amazing.

  As to the plot, it is engaging and fascinating, as multiple facets fit together to form a moving story.  The war in Europe is beginning to blossom as King George V passes away and leaves the throne for his oldest son, a man who is content to chase his beloved rather than reign as King.  As Firth grows nearer the throne, his inner conflict develops and his fear of public speaking increases.  Geoffrey Rush, his speech therapist, and an odd one at that, demands that he be treated as Firth's equal, despite the societal fact that they are very much not equals.  The tension over this is evident throughout the movie, and their unlikely friendship is the core of the story.

  The movie is flawless, impeccably done.  I enjoyed watching it, and yet, in light of everything that happened on Wednesday, it hasn't sunk in like it might have had I seen it another day.  I'd highly recommend it, though, for the acting alone makes it worth your time, and it is an enjoyable story.

  It does make me wonder about how we limit the relationships in our own lives.  Do we structure how we view people, as to which we see as equals, and which are 'allowed' to be our friends.  Do we see the checkout girl or the waiter at the restaurant as our equal, or do we barely acknowledge their presence as we go about our lives?  Do we merit the bus driver or the hotel maid as worthy of our time and attention, or do we fail to engage with them as beloved children of the living God?

  One of the most fascinating aspects of Jesus was that he treated everyone equally.  He loved them all, whether or not they thought they were worthy of it, whether or not the Pharisees saw them worthy of it.  He reached out and touched the leper, he talked with the beggar, he converted the woman at the well.  He never turned a blind eye, was never too busy.  They were all his beloved creations, and he treated them like that.

  Will we treat them as the same way?  Will we see each person as made in the image of God?  Or are we too busy to notice, too burdened to care, too comfortable to reach out?

Secretariat

  It's hard to watch a movie when you know how it's going to end, as good as the movie may be.

  I enjoyed watching Secretariat.  Disney's movie about the famous racehorse captured me, but there was something that prevented me from getting completely caught up in the movie, and I think it's the realization that the movie was never as dramatic as it could have been, because I knew Secretariat won the Triple Crown.  As tense as some of the moments might have been, I knew who would come out on top.  And that takes a lot away from a movie where the drama rests mostly on whether or not Secretariat is going to win.  (For example, Seabiscuit was far more engaging for me, because I knew nothing about Seabiscuit.  The Mighty Ducks was dramatic because we didn't know whether the knuckle puck or the flying V would work.  But I digress...)

  The lesson I take from Seabiscuit is the importance of following your passions, of doing what is critically important, even though sacrifice is often required to do so.  Diane Lane plays Penny Chenery, the housewife who inherits the family farm and a stable of racehorses.  Her family is halfway across the country in Denver, while she is in Virginia, trying to keep the farm afloat, believing fully in Secretariat's potential to win the Triple Crown.  She takes risks, gambles, and sacrifices a lot in order to succeed, and in the end she is rewarded for her sacrifices.

  We sacrifice to make time, to save energy, for those things that matter most to us.  It's why they tell you to look at a person's checkbook to see what matters most to them.  What is it in your life that you will always make time to do, and what will you do only if you have enough time to do it?  My attitude toward spiritual disciplines will often run dangerously toward the latter--I'll do it if I have time, but I'm usually more willing to make time to do recreational activities, to work out, to play.  I make those things a priority, and I don't sacrifice to build up my relationship with God.

  Secretariat was able to win the Triple Crown because a lot of people believed in him enough to give of their time, energy and money to get him to the race.  I believe that God will redeem the world out of God's great love, but I believe that God is longing for us to put God first, to join in with what God is doing in the world.

  We'll have to make some tough choices, to make some sacrifices, but it is the only path to abundant life, even though I imagine I'll never stop looking for shortcuts.

Get Low

  "It's time for me to get low."

  With those words Robert Duvall's character, Felix Bush, begins his quest to plan his own funeral.  The only difference between this funeral and most other funerals is that Bush wants to attend his funeral.

  Get Low is an odd, endearing tale, one in which the viewer is constantly trying to discover the motive behind all this, and yet the story unfolds in such a sweet way that I never grew impatient with it, and like it more and more as the story wound together.

  Felix Bush is an odd, mountain man, the type about which countless stories and legends have been told, most of which aren't true, but are told to scare children and grown-ups alike.  He lives on the outskirts of town, and seems to be an enigma to anyone who crosses his path, until strangers from long ago return and begins to peel back all the layers of Bush's history.

  More than anything else, Get Low was a tale about forgiveness, and what our transgressions can do to us if we don't accept forgiveness.  They will grow and devour our lives, our wills, if we let them.  I imagine that we punish ourselves far more than most others punish us, and Felix Bush has something in his past that has been gnawing at him for forty years, and it has consumed him to the point that he cannot live without telling his tale.

  Do you allow yourself to be forgiven?  Do you accept grace and mercy?  Or do you choose to wall up your sins inside you, denying grace any entry and allowing those sins to consume and devour you?  Christ has nailed our sins to the cross--are you constantly trying to pull them back off the cross and prevent them from dying there?

Megamind

  I had wanted to see Megamind since I saw the first preview--I still have faith in Will Ferrell movies, even though there hasn't been too much to keep that faith alive recently.  It looked like an original, funny movie, and I wasn't disappointed.  Megamind had more twists and turns that I had expected, and every ten minutes it felt like everything was turned on its head, only to change again--it would be interesting to see this all on a storyboard, to see all the twists plotted out.  There was a lot in here for a 95 minute movie.

  The crucial struggle in the movie is between good and evil.  It is set up in the beginning as a classic hero movie, a battle between the villain and the hero, but then turns on its head as the hero is killed and the villain is left to his own devices, quickly growing bored with chaos.

  As the movie evolves, I realized that the struggle wasn't so much between villains and heroes, but rather within the villain, Megamind.  He had to make the choice about whether he wanted to be bad or good, and it wasn't an easy choice for him.

  Isn't this the battle we all fight?  Don't we all waffle between good and evil, between doing what we know to be right and doing, as Paul writes, not the good I want to do.  (Romans 7)  Alexander Solzhenitsyn captures this in The Gulag Archipelago:  Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either, but right through every human heart, and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. Even within hearts overwhlemed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained; and even in the best of all hearts, there remains a small corner of evil.


  We so desperately want to be good, to be faithful, to live a life dedicated to Christ alone.  And yet, in the midst of life, we have so many moments where we fall short.  How critical it is that we recognize that we are sinners, and yet that we are redeemed by Christ, and set here to be a Kingdom focused people, a people living for Christ.  It doesn't mean we have to be perfect--what it means is that we have to be honest about our successes as well as our failures.  We begin living into our eternal life here and now--we won't get it right, but with the Spirit's help God will transform our feeble efforts into something miraculous for the Kingdom.  Sanctification is an ongoing process--are you will to continue to step out in faith, and trust that God will be at work in you, through you, in the world?  We cannot win the world for Christ on our own, but we can focus our life on ensuring that everything we do is a small effort to join in God's redemption of all of creation.

The Pacific

Last night, Rachel and I finished watching the 10th episode of The Pacific, HBO's follow-up to Band of Brothers, the mini-series they did which focused upon the experience of a battalion of the 101st Airborne Division in Europe during WWII.

The Pacific was centered around the experience of two, or maybe three, different individuals in the Marine Corps during WWII. It's hard to say exactly--there were at least three central characters, but the series jumped around so much, from

island to island and person to person, that I never felt much of an attachment to any of the specific individuals.

I can't even say for certain what I was supposed to have learned from this series, what the goal of the producers was. While Band of Brothers certainly left one feeling like there was a noble goal of defeating the Germans and liberating Europe, there was no such impression in The Pacific. Perhaps it was meant to be that way, meant to portray a lack of purpose... I don't know.

What I do know is that it was overly gruesome, and some of those mental images may stick with me for longer than I would like. It forces me to think about some of the things human beings are capable of doing to each other, the violence that wrenches our society apart, touching us all. Do we recognize the cost of violence?

I recently opened a Twitter account, and have been following the local news stations here in Chattanooga. I'm amazed and appalled at the number of stories about local shootings, gun crimes and the like that I see. And it's not just here--in every city in every country around the world, there is violence of some sort, be it in the streets or hidden behind the close

d doors and drawn windows of the home down the street.

As we begin our Lenten journey, I think of Christ, hanging on the cross. A violent act, put on display for all to see. The Savior of the world, another victim of society's violence.

How odd, how strange, that God would use such means to bring about the redemption of all of creation. We see crosses everywhere, and we have tamed them of their violence, and yet, beneath that polished woodgrain, is a history of violence, of countless souls crucified on a cross. It was the cruelest form of death at the time--Romans wouldn't crucify their own citizens, because they didn't want to get their own hands soiled with crucifixion, this dreadful scourge.

And yet the Savior, hung upon the tree to die, does so in order that we might live, and have the abundant life.

As I ponder the Lenten journey, and how easily I push it from my mind, I wonder how these next forty days might be different--I wonder how I might pray with a grateful heart, how I might live in passionate awe at what God has done. Through the violence of the world, God showed true power, true love, and showed us a better way, a higher way, that leads to life, rather than death.

May Christ's church seek to spread this message of peace, this message of life and hope, into our communities, that through our love we might demonstrate that God has defeated the powers of sin and death that seek to hold the world hostage. We have no need to live in fear--we have hope, a better hope, and a love that has conquered all.

Thanks be to God!

Babette's Feast

I finally watched Babette's Feast.  I don't even know how many times I'd heard about this movie before sitting down to watch it the other night.  It waited for weeks on our shelf, and as it was holding up the queue from finally reaching Inception, Rachel and I finally sat down to watch this movie so we could send it back.  It's a French movie, and all in subtitles, and though it is pretty old, there is a beautiful story hidden in here.

To summarize, it's the tale of a French religious community, one that appears to be fairly strict.  The leader of it passes away, and leadership falls to his two daughters, beautiful women in their time who were strongly encouraged not to wed by the father.  The two women, in their advanced age, take in as a servant, a refugee from Paris.

I'm going to spoil the plot, because blogging about this movie without revealing the ending doesn't leave much to write about, but I don't feel badly about it since the movie came out in 1987.  If your going to be upset that I ruined a 23 year old movie...well, deal with it.

Babette wins the lotto, a considerable sum of money, and spends it all on a lavish feast for the strict religious community.  Turtle soup, quail, you name it.  I didn't know what half the dishes were, but it was fine French dining, and the French are pretty passionate about their food.

The sisters are astonished that she spent all this money on one meal, but it was Babette's chance to give away her art.  'An artist is never poor,' she tells them.

It reminds me a lot of what Seth Godin talks about, the idea of giving away our art.  What is it that you're really good at, that you love to do, and how are you giving that away?  Are you?  I think that often we don't give away our art, holding onto it because we don't think it's good enough, or that we might lose out on money down the road.  Give it away, and see what happens.  God has given us each tremendous and different gifts--let's use them for the glory of God, and let God continue to transform the world through us.  May we give away what has been freely given to us.

Wall Street

  On Saturday evening we sat down to watch a movie.  For the first time in the three years we've had Directv, we finally ordered a movie over the pay-per-view.  We chose Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps, the remake (sequel?) of the 1987  movie with the same name.  I hadn't heard much about it, but it looked interesting.

  Interesting it was.  I was fascinated by this movie, especially because we were watching it on Christmas, a day when we remember the gift of Christ and think about how often we put money and greed first, focusing on materialism rather than faithfulness to a Gospel that calls us to give love.  This movie focuses on greed and its corrupting power.

  What makes this movie so interesting is that it hits so close to home with the recent financial crisis.  Had this movie been made five years ago, I'm not sure I would have been so amazed by it.  But the reality of what is portrayed is scary--in summary, Wall Street is on the verge of collapse because many of the investment banks have become so corrupted by greed that they fail to have any fiscally responsible policies and are simply betting billions (trillions?) against bad loans they're making.

  I think what sums up the prevailing attitude best is when Shia Lebeouf asks the head of a firm what his number is, the amount it would take to get him to walk away from it all.  The answer?

  More.

  Sends a shudder up my spine just to type it.  It's easy to vilify investment bankers, especially those whose failures ended up causing a global economic meltdown.

  But where does greed reign in my life?

  What do I constantly want more of?

  What am I unwilling to give up for the sake of Christ?

  Greed is so corrupting.  The main conflict in the movie is how Shia Lebeouf's greed corrupts him and his relationship with his fiancee, Michael Douglas' daughter.  (It's just fun to watch Michael Douglas act--he is so talented)  How much is one willing to sacrifice to be financially successful?  How much money do we truly need?  What are we willing to do, who are we willing to hurt to get it?

  Money is the root of all evil, 1 Timothy tells us.  Money itself isn't evil--but the desire for more and more of it will corrupt our very soul.  This movie is a great warning about what that looks like on the small scale, and it helps me examine my own thoughts and feelings about money, a subject Christ talked about very often, and yet one we in the church manage to avoid with frightening success.

Temple Grandin

I was prepared to dislike Temple Grandin.  Slow, emotional movies based on people overcoming difficulties aren't usually what I like to watch to relax.  (I freely admit that I fast-forwarded through the scenes of Frodo and Sam in Lord of the Rings, and one of my favorite movie scenes ever is the cat getting electrocuted under the chair in Christmas Vacation.  Does that make me emotionally shallow?  Perhaps.)  Fifteen minutes into the movie, I was ready to turn it off--not because it was bad, but simply because it had a slow beginning.

By the end of the movie, I felt like I had been taken on a grand journey, and at the destination I realized how differently people see the world, and how often we mistake the gifts of others for oddities which need to be locked away, never to disturb the world of the comfortable and expected.  I was grateful for those who struggled through difficulty, for those who were and are willing to encounter differences and engage them in order to make this world a more beautiful place.

Temple Grandin was born with autism, and at the age of four a doctor encouraged her to be institutionalized.  Her mother refused to accept this, and was determined to give Temple a fulfilling life.  She was not alone, and through the help and love of others Temple found her niche and worked hard to be successful at whatever she tried.  The movie did an excellent job of highlighting the obstacles that were put in her way, of how the world refused to accept her differences and mocked her pecularities.  There were countless opportunities for Temple and those who loved her to give up, but through perseverance and love doors were opened and she had the courage to walk through them.

It's simply a great movie.  The first few minutes are slow as the characters in the movie are developed and the director seeks to establish Temple's gifts.  Temple is different, and I was ready to give up on what was different, rather than struggle forward and try to understand.  Claire Danes does an excellent job capturing Temple in all her triumphs and struggles, and the two hours you'll spend watching this movie will help you realize that those who see the world differently aren't always wrong, and are worth more of our time and patience.

The movie’s director, Mick Jackson, said of Dr. Grandin, "She was an inspiration to all … and a hero to everyone in the autism world."   Claire Danes, who portrayed Temple in the movie, said, “It was an honor to portray the life of this brilliant woman."  

Learn more about Temple Grandin at her website:  templegrandin.com

Despicable Me

  Well, it was bound to happen at some point.  For the first time in years, I finally saw a decent movie on a plane.  For years, every time I opened the in-flight magazine, I would be disappointed to find another chick flick, or something similarly absurd (No, I'd never heard of The Tooth Fairy, and having seen the Rock in a tutu, I can safely say I was ok with that).  It would happen that a flight I desperately need sleep on would be the one with the movie I'd wanted to see for a long time (in case, for some odd reason, you're intrigued to read my reflections on the red-eye before this flight, click here), but I was grateful to finally see Despicable Me.

  Despicable Me is the story of Gru, an aging villain with grand plans and a few triumphs to show (He has the Times Square Jumbotron, the Statue of Liberty (from Las Vegas) and the Eiffel Tower (also from Vegas).  Having been upstaged by a new, young rival, who stole the Great Pyramid from Giza, he's hatched a new plan--to shrink and steal the moon!

  His new, young rival, Vector, foils his plan and steals the shrink-ray first, and Gru is unable to steal it back until a diabolical plot is hatched--Gru adopts three young cookie-selling girls in the hopes that through their cookies he will be granted access to Vector's home and thus, the shrink ray.

  Two quick points:  Gru's minions are hilarious, and there is a good chance you, too, will want a big, furry unicorn after the movie.

  I have to use a word I'm not particularly fond of to describe this movie--it's really very cute.  Heartwarming, too.  It's the story of how these three girls change Gru, despite the fact that Gru's intentions are nothing but selfish from the onset.  This movie reminds me of how often God takes me selfishness and pride and still manages to wrangle something good out of them.

  We read that 'all things work together for good for those who love God' (Romans 8:28).  This often happens despite our amazing abilities to mess things up--God does a work in us and through us, and God's love shines through.  Martin Luther said the only thing we add to salvation is sin and resistance--this movie illustrates how God works to soften our hearts, to change us, even when we don't cooperate.

  To no one's surprise, the airplane cabin seemed to get a bit dusty at the end of the movie, and somehow it got into my eyes...  stories of redemption do that to me, not only out of joy at the redemption, but because it gives me to cause to remember my own redemption, and the hope I have in Christ.

Inception

What is Inception?  A great movie, to start with.  I loved this movie--it engaged the mind and made me think, as well as being an intense, action-packed drama that I was never sure exactly where it was going to end up.  My expectations were through the roof when I walked into the theater, and it exceeded every one.  It even made me like Ellen Page, which is quite a step for me!

  Inception is the process of planting an idea inside of someone's mind.  The entire movie is based upon dreams, and how one can invade dreams and steal ideas.  Leonardo DiCaprio is the main character, filled with grief for his former wife, longing to see his children, and surrounded by a team that plans to construct dream worlds to plant an idea in their target's mind.

  The debate I've had ever since I saw this movie has been this:  what was true, and what was a dream.  I'm not sure where the line was.  And I believe this is where the movie becomes more than just idle entertainment.

  What is Truth?  Jesus Christ--I am the way, the truth and the life--it's right there in John 14:6.

  So what is the dream?  What is not real?  How do we ensure we are following Christ and not living in some dream world?  That is where the question hits home for me--how much of my life is centered upon the reality of Christ, and how much is a constructed reality, a dream world, in which the object of my worship is not Christ, but rather some carefully substituted idol, but I haven't even noticed the change, and live comfortably unaware of Christ's presence in my life?

  I think the way to ensure that we aren't wandering in some dream world, ignoring the Truth of Christ, is to continue to study the Scriptures.  The best way to know how our life reflects God is to hold up the stories of God to our life and see how they match up.  Do we reflect the love of God, as God has revealed to us throughout our history, throughout the Gospels?  Or are we a poor reflection of what a disciple should be?  In the Bible we see what Truth is--and it lights the path before us.

  We also need to pray.  In our prayers we ask for the strength to continue to fight, to struggle for God.  We confess the times in which we have turned astray, and we set aside some time to be silent and listen.  In prayer, we communicate with God, and we re-align ourselves to God, to Truth.

  Inception is a great movie, but I think it is made richer by the fact that it points me to examine my own life, to see where I am falling for dreams and not pursuing the true reality of life in Jesus Christ.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

  This movie and I had a history.  This is the second time we got it through Netflix--I don't remember what the first one was, but I think we decided it was too depressing at the time.  We received it again in the mail about three weeks ago, and only just now got around to watching it.  It was one of those movies that everyone said was great, but I had a hard time believing.

  It is the story of Jean-Dominic Bauby, the editor of the magazine Elle.  He has a massive stroke, and it results in a rare condition where the only thing he can do, other than think, is blink his left eye.

  His first reaction, predictably, is to want to die.  I can only imagine what the horror of the realization was like, being trapped inside one's own body.  It is interesting that his father has alzeihmer's, and cannot leave his apartment.  At one particularly poignant moment, his father calls Jean-Dominic and compares their imprisonments.

  Eventually, Jean overcomes his desperation, with the help of a particularly determined speech therapist, and begins to write a book, dictating by blinking his left eye when the therapist says the correct letter.  It would take hours for him to write a few simple sentences.  It was a herculean task, to say the least.

  He comes to the realization that his memories and his imagination cannot be taken away from him.  He lives within those, interacting as richly as possible with his children, with those who surround him, with life itself.

  It is a beautiful tale, one that haunts the viewer long after the credits have ended.  How it all went so wrong for this rich and successful man--so suddenly, so unexpectedly, so painfully.  Everything was wrenched apart in a moment, and never would it be the same.  Was it better?  In some ways, perhaps.

  This movie leaves me with a sense of desperation, to treasure the moments in which I reside, to love those closest to me and revel in the abundant grace of God that surrounds me.  Life is a precious gift, and may we not underestimate the glory of a simple hug, the wonder of an autumn walk, and the pure blessing of feeling the wind whistling through our hair.  May we thank God for what we have today, and while we dream for tomorrow, may we not forget that life is a pure gift.

Toy Story 3

  We went to the movie theater!  I am trying for the life of me to remember what the last movie we saw together in the theater was--could have been Four Christmases, since I think that came after The Dark Night.  Perhaps I am forgetting something, but it's been a while.

  We went to see Toy Story 3 this weekend, and it was wonderful.  Pixar seems to have this down to a science--I saw somewhere that they had made around $6 billion since the first Toy Story.  I went in expecting to love it, and wasn't disappointed.

  But I was surprised.  I had expected a story written for kids.  This is not a kids' movie.  There are things in it for kids, and most kids will probably enjoy it, but it is an emotional, action-packed, intense movie, filled with moments that find you gripping the seat, as well as bringing tears (Yup, I cried).

  The overarching question in this movie revolves around Andy going off to college, and what to do with his old, favorite toys.  They have been packed in a crate for years now, and a debate swirls about their future, be it a box in the attic, the trash can, or a day-care.  Woody believes their purpose revolves around being there for Andy--others are tired of resting in a box and want to be played with, while some are just ready to give up.

  The movie is well worth watching to see how this all wraps up.  They meet Lotso, the seemingly lovable bear that runs Sunnyside Day Care with an iron fist.  He's had his heart broken once, and sets up a system to ensure that he is never hurt again.  The intense escape scene brings out one of my favorite scenes in the movie.  Just when you're ready to give up...

  The movie has surprising depth for Christians, too.  It deals with growth, with change and the tough decisions that revolve around that.  Andy is moving on to college, and in the midst of his transition, how does he deal with the things of his youth?  The toys are dealing with transition, too.  What is their purpose?  We all come up against these questions in our time--as life changes, we have to discover new purpose.  As we grow, we have to discard some of the things of our youth.  We have to keep growing, keep changing, always with Christ before us.  It means we are called to make tough decisions, to cast off habits or things from our youth.  It won't be an easy decision, but for each new day, we have to be ready to follow Christ, wherever he leads.  If we stay in the same place, however comfortable or happy we may be, we are in effect choosing not to follow Christ.  Where does he lead?  Where is he calling you?  Are you listening?

  It calls us to a discipline of listening.  Do you have any silence in your life?  Do you pay attention to what God is saying, what God is doing around you?  Are you ready and willing to change for Christ?  Will you seek the prize?

  There will be moments that will be fun and delightful, and there will be difficult moments.  But Christ is worth everything! 

The Iron Giant

  I first heard about The Iron Giant long ago, but never got around to watching it.  Something jarred it in my memory recently, so I added it to the queue, and last night we finally watched it.  This is a great movie--it reminds me why I love movies.  At the end of it, I got that feeling of amazement, one that reminded me of the magic that is possible with movies. 

  In the movie, a giant metal robot crashes down from space one dark and stormy night.  Hogarth, the young hero, goes out in search of the mythical robot, and soon the two are inseparable friends.  What young boy doesn't want a giant talking robot?

  Needing a place to hide the giant, as well as worries about supplying enough metal to meet the giant's appetite, Hogarth hides him in the local junkyard, run by Dean.  Throughout the movie there is a government agent hot on Hogarth's trail, desperate to find (and destroy) this elusive giant.

  In this movie, the giant is a beast we do not understand.  Only towards the end do we have a view of what he is truly capable of, and yet we also see how powerful a lesson human compassion can be.  Through Hogarth and the giant we learn about death and the soul, about guns and violence, about love and friendship.  We watch the giant grow in his understanding of humanity, and it is heartbreaking as he sees the best and the worst of us.

  One thing that sticks with me about this movie is how deep our fear is of those things that we don't understand.  The government agent is desperate to kill this giant out of fear of the unknown.  Others shy away because they don't understand him.  Hogarth isn't afraid to engage the giant, and because he does so, he changes the giant.  They each learn from each other, and the deep love that develops between them is because they don't fear each other.  How the world might change if, rather than fear those things we don't understand, we made genuine efforts to engage them and serve one another in love!