'2012' is one heck of a ride

There are days when I’m really glad I don’t make my living as movie critic—unless of course, I could be Roger Ebert.

Yesterday I saw Roland Emmerich’s ultimate disaster movie 2012 and, quite frankly, it was some of the most fun I’ve had at the movies this year. There were whole chunks of time where I literally forgot I was watching a movie—and that itself is worth the price of a ticket. But most critics panned the film, and I doubt I’ve either the clout or the connections to publish a review to the contrary.

But Ebert did, bless him. “2012 delivers what it promises,” writes Ebert, “and since no sentient being will buy a ticket expecting anything else, it will be, for its audiences, one of the most satisfactory films of the year.” And indeed, it was so for me.

2012 is, as Ebert puts it, “the mother of all disaster movies (and the father, and the extended family).” In the classic disaster film model, the film follows a variety of people—from scientists (Chiwetel Ejiofor), world leaders (including Danny Glover as U.S. President and Oliver Platt as his ethically challenged Chief of Staff) and a rich Russian father (Zlatko Buric) to a conspiracy radio talk show host (an almost unrecognizable Woody Harellson), Buddhist monk (Osric Chau) and an American family—whose lives intersect as the world begins to experience one disaster after another as the temperature of the earth’s core increases. Most of the story is seen through the eyes of struggling novelist Jackson Curtis (John Cusack), his divorced wife Kate (Amanda Peet) and their two children Noah (Liam James) and Lily (Morgan Lily).

This film is the mother of all disaster movies in several ways. First, its special effects are beyond amazing, and Emmerich executes them well. More than once I caught myself pushing back into the seat as one character after another struggled to dodge or outrun cavernous earthquakes, chunks of earth and fire reigning down from the sky, massive tsunamis, collapsing skyscrapers, falling monuments and smothering ash clouds. Mountains melt and whole cities slide into the sea. Emmerich outdid himself—and it works.

As a disaster genre fan, I also loved how Emmerich actually addresses the disaster genre within the film itself. In particular, I appreciated a scene between Curtis and scientist Adrian Helmsley, who has read Curtis’obscure science fiction/disaster novel and asks him if he really believes people would act as selflessly and sacrificially in the face of disaster as the characters in his novel did. Curtis reflects that though the critics thought him naïve, he believed people would.

This resonates with me as it’s one of the aspects of disaster films that draws me to the genre. In an article I can no longer find online, Alby James gets at this as he observes that these films are stories of relentless jeopardy that requires average folks to find it within themselves to “triumph over great adversity.” These characters are on the verge of being messianic in nature, James points out:

. . . [T]heir desire to save others is what seems to propel them through all situations. This drive may even cause them to sacrifice themselves at the climax so that the others may survive, as Gene Hackman’s vicar character does in The Poseidon Adventure. They are the kind of characters who make us feel good about mankind and reassure us that despite all the difficulties that we may have to face in the world today, we shall always overcome. Independence Day and Armageddon take this to the limit.

And, says James, these films also make us think about things that matter:

These are films that remind us of the meaning of life, the people we most care about and who makes us really happy. When you stare death in the face like this, you know who really matters to you and what you must do. The best of these films do all this.

And these all provide opportunities to bring God-talk into open spaces—and Emmerich’s 2012 is no exception. As his characters face insurmountable challenges, what matters to them is revealed. Some choose to do what is best for themselves while others choose to do what is in the best interest of others. Some seek power and security while others sacrifice those things in order to save others. Characters and stories like these invite us to consider what matters to us—what would do if we were in the same situation? Is there someone or something we are willing to sacrifice our lives for? Why—or why not? And how does this make us think about Jesus’ words about giving up our lives in order to save them?

Interestingly, in a Christianity Today review Steven Greydanus—who gives the film two stars out of four—observes that Emmerich advocates these themes in his disaster films. In an great comparison of the disaster/apocalyptic films of Emmerich (The Day After Tomorrow, Independence Day) and Michael Bay (Transformers, Armageddon), Greydanus muses:

Emmerich has a dimmer vision of the future than Bay; his movies offer real apocalypses, while even Bay's Armageddon is about an apocalypse averted. But Bay has a dimmer outlook on mankind. Emmerich seasons his schlock with schmaltz, with cornball speeches about decency, loyalty, family and humanity. Bay likes his trash trashy, with generous dollops of gratuitous sleaze and exploitation.

In Bay's movies, women are sex objects—pinups and playmates if not bimbos, strippers and/or prostitutes—while men are cocky, testosterone-charged studs or else wish they were, by gum. Men and women in Emmerich's movies are no less cartoony, but the women are wives, ex-wives and daughters, while the men struggle with doing right by them.

A typical Emmerich hero earnestly worries about things like the appropriateness of burning the works of Nietzsche for heat in a post-apocalyptic world. If a typical Bay hero is earnestly concerned about anything, it's probably Megan Fox's midriff. Emmerich might be more likely to kill off nine-tenths of the world's population, but Bay is less likely to make you feel like it would matter. Not that you're very likely to care, or care a lot, in an Emmerich film. But at least you feel that Emmerich cares—and that he wants us to care—and that's better than nothing.

Heh, I’m much less jaded about Emmerich’s films than Greydanus, but I absolutely love this observation because I think it reflects Emmerich’s desire to, as James puts it, “make us feel good about mankind and reassure us that despite all the difficulties that we may have to face in the world today, we shall always overcome.” And stories like that invite us to not only consider how humanity is definitely broken and flawed, but also how we carry within us the image of the Creator—and stories like this draw our attention to those fractured reflections and, ultimately, to the One in whose image we are created.

Not that I think Emmerich is pointing that way on purpose. In a Sci-Fi Wire story, Emmerich elaborates that his choices about the destruction of certain landmarks has to do with his sentiments “against organized religion.” (Almost more interesting, however, is the attention the article draws to the reasoning behind why certain religious landmarks are left alone.)

But while he might be against organized religion, I’m not sure Emmerich is against the idea of God. In particular, I was struck by a scene where Curtis and his daughter sing a gospel song at the top of their lungs and another where Kate breathes a short but desperate prayer in one of the final scenes. While not significant points in the film, they are little aspects that allow for personal faith.

Either way, this story and its characters—like other good disaster films—invites us to think about issues, themes and ideas that bring God-talk into open spaces. And, as Ebert puts it, 2012 may not be a masterpiece, “But is it about as good as a movie in this genre can be? Yes.” As for this satisfied movie goer, it was one heck of a ride.

(Images: Columbia Pictures)

Having “Déjà Vu” of the Story

A few weeks ago, for the second time this year I watched—and once again enjoyed—Déjà Vu, a 2006 film starring Denzel Washington as an ATF agent Doug Carlin who’s investigating the blowing-up of a New Orleans ferry (killing over 500 people, including children). The film has its weaknesses, but I can’t help but find it not only one of the more interesting science fiction films I’ve seen but also one with profound echoes of a greater story—the Story. And that brings God-talk into open spaces.

Carlin is a guy who pays attention—to his surroundings as well as to people. And that draws the attention of FBI agent Paul Pryzwarra, who heads a special task force that wields a mysterious and experimental technology that allows them to peer back in time four days—in great detail and with no point-of-view restrictions. The limitation, however, is that the space they can observe must be within a three mile radius of their equipment—which is why they are set up next to the ferry’s dock and explosion.

Carlin intuits that the death of a woman, Claire Kuchever (Paula Patton), a few hours before the explosion is connected to the crime, and has the task force focus on her. As he observes her, his attachment to her grows—and when he discovers that the technology he’s working with also allows small objects to be sent back in time (something the FBI agents are opposed to due to messing up timelines), Carlin’s desire to save her also grows.

This represents a significant change in Carlin, who’s been jaded by his job. At one point, he tells Pryzwarra:

Everything you have, you lose, right? Mother, father--gone. Good looks, Pryzwarra? Gone. Loved ones gone in a second. That's what this job teaches you, isn't it? No matter what, no matter how hard you grab onto something--you still lose it, right?

As he begins to realize the potential of the technology to not only prevent the ferry explosion but also save Claire, he tells the FBI task force:

For all of my career, I've been trying to catch people after they do something horrible. For once in my life, I'd like to catch somebody before they do something horrible, all right? Can you understand that?

The FBI task force debates sending back in time a note to Carlin warning him of the ferry explosion—and in their conversation I find one of the only theories of time travel that I really have any comfort with. One of the scientists tells Carlin, “The traditional view of time is linear, like a river, flowing from the past towards the future.” When another character asks if you change the course of the river, she replies: “Introduce a significant enough event at any point in this river and you create a new branch, still flowing toward the future, but along a different route. Changed.” In other words, an alternate timeline. But another character suggests something different, that the river of time “is the Mississippi” and any changes we make are the equivalent of “lobbing what amounts to a pebble into it.” He concludes, “That's a very few tiny ripples in a kind of big body of water, don't you think.”

I like this image of time as a river, flowing from the past towards a future, with the idea that whatever big rocks are thrown or dropped into the river can change the flow around the rock (change some events in time) but not the flow of the river as a whole. Time continues forward with a few changes but it all flows en masse together towards the same end.This kind of approach to time travel resonates with me because it echoes and makes the most sense in context of the larger Story of which we all are a part. If Scripture is right, we know how the larger framework of the Story ends, this river of ours moving towards a sea of endless boundary. Though evil and darkness throw pebbles, stones and even drop boulders into that flow, the waters of time—permeated with God’s love, goodness, just-ness and right-ness—flow around it towards redemption, renewal and life. There is an abundance of free will within that flow, but nothing will change where that Story is going.

But this story also reveals another aspect of the Story that resonates with me. In this film (and its time travel theory), a distant or low risk act doesn’t make a huge difference. In fact, it doesn’t change much at all. For example, when they send a paper note back to Carlin in the past, present-Carlin and the others watch it land on a desk after past-Carlin leaves the room—and his partner picks it up instead. We already know his partner dies, and this act doesn’t change that.

It isn’t until Carlin goes back himself at great personal risk that people are saved. Interestingly, Carlin’s risk leads to his death (twice). He loses everything—but in doing so, he gains what he really wanted in the first place: a chance to save prevent death and keep a wrong from happening. The people he save—including Claire—are free to live.

In this story, one act distant or low risk act doesn’t make a difference, but a series of invested, personal acts does. To save others takes full commitment. For Carlin, the culmination of those choices literally takes his life. But in giving that life he saves not only hundreds of others including the woman he loves but, in the end, his own as well.

In all this is a poignant echo of the Story and a God who refuses to deal with us from afar, but incarnates in Jesus, who sacrifices life itself to save us from death, fix the foundational wrong that’s broken us and free us to live—really live.

But all this also gives me a good image for Jesus’ words about giving up our lives to save them: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it” (Luke 9:23-24). It begins with our choice to follow Jesus, which then inexorably forms how we look at and relate to others. Donald Kraybill also gets at this in The Upside-Down Kingdom:

Cross-bearing isn’t a one-time decision. It’s a daily assessment of our willingness to make expensive decisions for the sake of Christ. Again and again, day after day, the call comes, “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me, cannot be my disciple (Luke 14:27). “whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Matt. 10:38)….

The substance of Christian faith lies in our willingness to walk in the way of Christ…. Following Jesus means not only turning over personal habits and practices, but turning to a new way of thinking. This new kingdom logic counters much of what we take for granted. Jesus calls for a reformation of values, behavior, and thinking. To follow Jesus, to be converted, means turning around, and joining a community anchored on kingdom norms and values.

The above-all norm and value of kingdom life is love—for God and others. And this requires putting the best interests of God and others above our own. I love the way Christopher Hall describes the sacrificial nature of the Christian life in The Renovare Spiritual Formation Bible:

Did Christ ever turn a blind eye to the needy for the sake of his own comfort? Hardly. The manifestation of Christ’s love to a fallen world is often cruciform. It was for Jesus and will often be so for Christ’s disciples.

I see strong images of all this as I watch Carlin transform throughout the film from a jaded and hope-empty man to one who puts the best interest of others so far above his own that he sacrifices his own life—and saves it in the process.

Like most good stories, Déjà Vu invites us to ask some important questions—like is there such a thing as fate or destiny—and ultimately, God? Is he distant? Or is he intimate and good? What is worth your life? What (or who) are you willing to risk and sacrifice your life for?

As a last note, this film has one of the best twists on a chase scene I’ve ever seen. At one point, Carlin uses a mobile-version of the technology that allows him to chase the bomber’s car four days in the past—but Carlin must dodge traffic in present day as the chase ensues. Seriously and delightfully mind-bending and nail-biting!

Lest you think I am pulling a little too much God-talk out of this film, the film itself seems to invite this kind of rumination as it is peppered throughout with talk and images relating to God, faith and religion. Whatever the case, I thoroughly enjoyed and resonated with the questions, themes and God-talk this film brings into open spaces—and it wasn’t bad science fiction, either.

(Images: via Rotten Tomatoes)

Washington Monument

We've lived in the D.C. Metro area for about two-and-half years, but until this week we'd never toured the tallest and arguably most noticeable site in that city: the Washington Monument. It is usually the first thing we see as we drive in, and is a little over 555 feet tall. It is also, according to a park ranger, the tallest obelisk structure made solely out of stone (without metal supports) in the world.

The kids had off from school the first two days of the week, so I reserved some free tickets online (though there is a small fee when you do it like that) and we headed into the city for the afternoon. After a short wait in line, we rode an elevator up 500 feet or so and gazed down on the city through small windows on each side of the building:

To the west, you look down on the Lincoln Memorial and the Reflecting Pool (and also one of my favorite sites in D.C.).

To the south, you look down on Jefferson Memorial (and that's the 14th Street Bridge behind it, which I take into the city every time we drive in).

And to the east is the other half of the Washington Mall, with the Capitol Building at the far end. Most of those buildings along either side of the Mall are museums, most of which we've at least stepped foot in--and all of which, I believe, are free. (From the north window, and from which I didn't get a good photo, you can see into Maryland.)

I know I've said this repeatedly but I really do love living so close to D.C. I always feel fortunate whenever I stroll among its collections of museums, monuments, history, politics and people--it feels impossible to leave without having seen something new.

(Images: mine)

More on covenant community

I'm very behind on this, but MWR posted several more of the columns in a 13 week series I'm writing that correspond with scripture used in an international Sunday school lesson plan for NCCC member denominations. The series focuses on the story of our redemption and its connection to God's covenant community, the first four columns drawing from the Old Testament while the rest work through Mark and Peter's letters in the New Testament.

Of the latest posted, "Blazing Life" and "Chosen to Proclaim" are the first of three columns focusing on Peter's first letter and explore what the new covenant community looks like and how it works. The last column drawing from 1 Peter, "A Suffering People," looks at how God's people face suffering. "Faith-full People" is the first of two that draws from Peter's second letter, this one exploring Peter's exhortation to build our lives and communities on our new life in and relationship with God. I just turned in the final column, which should post early next week sometime.

As I've said before, I had a good time with this series. I learned much about what it means to be God's people and who he's called and enabled us to be as well as the yearnings and failings of my own heart when it comes to the church. Hopefully, the time I've spent will not only provide material for more reflection and writing but also reveal itself as fruit in my relationship with God and his people, near and far.

TV Snapshot: Ripple effect of choices

High school quarterback Finn Hudson and Glee Club coach/Spanish teacher Will Schuester toss a football as they discuss Finn’s caving to social peer pressure to stay in football instead of Glee Club—a decision prompted by the football coach who purposely forced his players to choose between the two.

Finn: I’m not coming back.

Schuester: These are the moments, Finn. They’re the crossroads. The ones you look back on when you get old and think "what if"…

Finn: I don’t buy that. I don’t think any one decision makes your life unless you accidentally invent some kind of zombie virus or something.

Schuester: No? You’re right. Life’s a series of choice, a big combination of moments. Little ones that add up to big ones that create who you are.

Schuester catches the ball and walks over to Finn.

Schuester: You’re letting other people make those choices for you, Finn. You’re letting them decide who you’re going to be, people you’re not even going to know in three years, people whose names you’re going to forget when you run into them in the hardware store.

Finn: You don’t understand the kind of pressure I’m under.

Schuester: Yes, I do. Because of all the students I’ve ever had, you remind me the most of me.

Finn looks over at Schuester, startled.

Schuester: Come back to Glee, Finn. It’s where you belong.

I must admit, I have a love/hate relationship with Glee, Fox’s breakout musical comedy-drama hit about a high school Glee Club. While I thoroughly enjoy most of the musical numbers and a good segment of the underlying themes, the series has had more than one moment that left me rolling my eyes (from the writing and lack of depth in exploring certain issues to its use of stereotypes and its choice of certain songs, the latter of which I wouldn’t want my three-years-from-high-school-age daughter anywhere near, heh).

But "Mash-Up" is an exceptional episode, and I really resonate with the idea that the path we walk in life and who we are is determined by the series of choices we make. It's an idea that runs throughout the series and a theme I appreciate in other good stories as well. But I particularly appreciated the effect this truth has on Finn. The power of that truth on him came less from its revelation (which everything around him tells him to reject) than that it is someone he respects and admires who reveals it to him. Schuester is older and more experienced than Finn, and he’s has been down Finn’s road; he speaks with authority and Finn knows he has his best interest in mind. Often, it is extremely difficult to accept a truth that seems to run counter to our immediate situation unless we have had experience to the contrary and know it to be true—or, like Finn, someone we regard with trust reveals that truth to us.

This conversation not only causes Finn to reevaluate how he’s been thinking and the choices he’s making, but also changes his vision of how things could be. Later, he goes to football coach Ken Tanaka and has this conversation:

Finn: I’m the quarterback, right? The leader.

Tanaka: Sure.

Finn: Well, all this stuff about having to choose between Glee and football is making it hard for me to lead. Leaders are supposed to see things that other guys don’t. Right? Like, they can imagine a future where things are better. Like, Thomas Jefferson or that kid from the Terminator movies.

The coach looks up at him, and Finn sits down across from him.

Finn: I see a future where…

He pauses.

Finn: …it’s cool to be in Glee Club. Where you can play football and sing and dance and no one gets down on you for it. Where the more different you are, the better.

The coach looks back at Finn, silent.

Finn: I guess what I’m trying to say is, I don’t want to have to choose between them anymore. It’s not cool.

After this conversation, Coach Tanaka (who I think gets where Finn is coming just as much or even more than Finn does) rethinks his own thinking and choices, and cancels the practice that was conflicting with Glee. As Finn was invited to change by Schuester, the coach receives the same invitation from Finn. And the school and its students and teachers take a step closer to becoming a better, more just and whole community. (Though I’m sure arch-nemesis Sue Sylvester will continue to make that journey quite challenging).

All this reminded me of Jesus’ call to “repent and believe”—to rethink our thinking as Mark Scandrette puts it in Soul Graffiti, or as Dallas Willard puts it in The Divine Conspiracy, “review your plans for living and base your life on this remarkable new opportunity.” And I love the way this episode explores how the revelation of truth and an invitation to rethink our thinking and embrace a new and remarkable opportunity in light of that truth doesn’t simply change how we think about and act in the present but also how we think about the future. And the choices we make to turn around and walk down another path towards a new and better future we hadn’t contemplated before often can’t help but ripple out into our relationships with others and the world around us. Often our decisions to embrace and base our lives on the kingdom and Jesus’ offer of new life will seep into our relationships with others and move our communities towards something better. That’s the way God designed it, this redemption and salvation of his creation.

So, even though I still have my beefs with Glee, I appreciate this episode and the God-talk it’s brought into these open spaces.

(Images: Fox via Hulu)

TV Snapshot: What do you want to be when you grow up?

In “The Core of It” episode of Lie to Me, Ria Torres, an employee of The Lightman Group (a private company that assists in investigations using psychology, particularly the science of deception detection) and Dr. Cal Lightman’s protégé, is trying to process through a recent case during which she experienced a lack of confidence in her abilities.

Torres: Why did you put me on this case? You knew I wasn’t ready.

Lightman: Far as I can tell, you nailed it.

He pauses.

Lightman: Look, what do you want to be when you grow up?

Torres (indignant): I am grown up.

Lightman: Terrific. What are you?

The question throws Torres, and she struggles for words.

Torres: I’m a—I’m a—

Lightman: You’re on your way to becoming one of the world’s leading experts in deception. But up here—

He points to his head—

Lightman: —you’re still a baggage screener at the airport. Til you change that, you’ll always think you’re not ready.

Torres takes in his words and then sits down across from him.

Torres: When I was 14, my boyfriend robbed a convenience store. I was in the car. I knew he was going to do, didn’t know he’d have a gun. Nobody got hurt, but somebody could have. So for me, baggage screener was a big step up.

Lightman: Well, keep steppin’ then.

I resonated with this conversation between Torres and Lightman because it reminds me that how we see ourselves has a huge impact not only on how we think and act but also on those around us—and how powerful it is to have someone remind us who we are called and enabled to be.

Torres was given a remarkable new opportunity when Lightman spotted her skills as a baggage screener and offered her a job at Lightman Corporation. But Torres is stuck; she still sees herself as a baggage screener rather than the gifted deception expert she already is and is becoming.

But Lightman sees Torres as she is, someone who already possesses an incredible gift and skill—and who’s on her way to becoming one of the world’s best deception experts. He understands it’s a process, but he confronts and encourages her to keep moving her identity in that direction—to grow into who she is. Essentially, Lightman is challenging Torres to rethink how she thinks and grasp the new opportunity that he’s given her.

And this makes me think of the opportunity Jesus presents to us and his invitation to, as Dallas Willard puts it in The Divine Conspiracy, to “review your plans for living and base your life on this remarkable new opportunity.” He invites us to, as Mark Scandrette puts it, rethink our thinking. And, amazingly, when we trust that God is who he says and can do what he says—when we rethink our thinking, turn from our old way of thinking and grasp the new opportunity Jesus gives us—we find new life. Our relationships with God, others and the world are changed—we are now enabled to live as we were created, both with God and others.

But like Torres, we get stuck in our old ways of thinking about ourselves. We need voices telling us that we are no longer who we were but who we are now: new creations, freed, found, children deeply loved by the Father, and those so steeped in that reality that they can’t help but love deeply because of how they are loved.

And like Torres, on this side of eternity, we must grow into all that. As Dan Stone puts it in The Rest of the Gospel: When the partial gospel wears you out:

In the unseen and eternal realm, God has already perfected us. In the seen and temporal realm, God is bringing that perfection, or completion, into view.

That’s why we can say we are complete and a new creation while simultaneously, in the seen and temporal realm, a process is going on. From God’s point of view, in the unseen and eternal realm, we are a finished product. At the same time, in the seen and temporal, He is continuing to work the truth deeper into us and conform us to His image.

In exploring this, Stone uses a helpful analogy of "above the line" and "below the line." And Stone challenges us to think about how we think of ourselves: Do we get our identity below the line—where we fail, sin and fall short—or do we get it above the line “in our spirit” where we find “the identity God gave us at our new birth”?

Because who we think we are—and who we think we’re becoming—will deeply affect how we think about God, others and the world around us.

For what it’s worth, I found the theme of identity throughout this episode thought-provoking (you can watch on Hulu), but I particularly appreciate the God-talk this scene brings into open spaces—and the challenge it presents to us to keep on steppin’ then.

(FOX via Hulu)

TV Snapshot: Truth and love

In “Acceptance,” Hiro is sitting on the edge of the roof of a skyscraper and talking to Tadashi, whom Hiro has tried countless times to prevent from jumping off the building by going back in time to keep Tadashi from committing an embarrassing act (photocopying his derriere) that will lead to his decision to kill himself because he is fired from his job and embarrassed his family. By now, Hiro’s realized there’s no way he can prevent Tadashi from coming to this point in his life because there is something deeper at work in his choices.

Hiro: I’ve tried to help you. Many, many times. But nothing seems to work. You keep on making the same mistake.

Tadashi: How come I don’t remember any of that?

Hiro: It doesn’t matter. I think it’s time that both of us faced the truth.

Tadashi: The truth? What do you mean?

Hiro turns to look at Tadashi, perturbed:

Hiro: First of all, you must really hate your job! Nobody copies their butt 47 different ways without wanting to get fired! My advice: find something you love to do. Then it doesn’t feel like work.

Tadashi: Maybe it is true. I always thought I could do more with my life.

Hiro continues right on.

Hiro: Secondly, life is a gift. Precious and short. Not wasted by jumping off a roof.

Tadashi (a little exasperated): What makes you such an expert?

Hiro: Because . . .

He pauses.

Hiro: . . . I’m dying.

Tadashi: No way! I would have heard.

Hiro: I’ve been keeping it a secret. Which brings me to my third point. Don’t keep secrets. Not from those you love. Especially not family.

Hiro smiles, and stands up.

Hiro: It’s time for both of us to accept the truth.

Tadashi looks up at Hiro, uncertainty showing on his face.

Tadashi: What if I’m not ready?

Hiro looks down at him, confident.

Hiro: You’ll be fine, Tadashi. Just remember, you’ll always have a friend waiting for you up in heaven.

He reaches his hand down to Tadashi, who’s now visibly moved by Hiro’s words.

Tadashi: You’re my friend?

Hiro nods and smiles.

Hiro: I am.

Tadashi takes Hiro’s hand and stands up and says with emotion in his voice:

Tadashi: Arigato, Hiro.

Tadashi bows to Hiro, and steps down and away from the edge with Hiro following.

I haven’t been all that thrilled with this season of Heroes, but I loved this scene in “Acceptance” because it illustrates the saving power of truth and love.

When Hiro realizes that Tadashi will keep making the same mistake in his life, he confronts the young man with the reasons behind his choices and offers him a more honest, right and deeper way to live his life. It reminded me somewhat of Jesus’ call to “repent and believe”--or as Dallas Willard puts it in The Divine Conspiracy, “review your plans for living and base your life on this remarkable new opportunity.” In the Renovare Spiritual Formation Bible, Christopher Hall writes that as followers of Jesus, we “will lovingly welcome fellow strugglers and know how to help them move beyond their sin.” Hiro isn’t perfect—in fact, it is as he attempts to help Tadashi that Hiro realizes his own choices need to be reviewed or rethought. But in facing the truth of his own life and choices, he is better able to help Tadashi. He is, in essence, a “fellow struggler.” Living life this way will lead to choices—both in our own lives and the lives of those we love—that may not be easy to make, but it is a better, right-full life. It is one that consistently works towards redemption, restoration, and life instead of destruction and death. And choosing to live our lives this way and offering people a vision of this kind of life—“speaking the truth in love”—is part of what it means to love.

But Hiro doesn’t stop there—and, as those who love, neither can we. What gets Tadashi off the ledge is not simply a confrontation with his own brokenness, a chance to rethink the way he thinks, and an opportunity to embark on an alternative way to live life but, perhaps most powerfully, Hiro’s offer of a hand in acceptance and friendship. This simple choice to walk with this whose with whom we cross paths is often more powerful than we can imagine; we need only think of how those offers have touched us to grasp that. We were meant to walk and live together this way, with hands out and hearts open. We were made to love one another, fellow strugglers inviting each other always to rethink our thinking and more fully embrace Jesus’ new opportunity to walk together in those wide open spaces of God's grace and glory.

(Images: Fox via Hulu)

Church history in four minutes. Heh.

Hat tip Liturgy. Heh, and all you Lost fans out there, pay close attention.

TV Snapshot: Humorous look at broken communities and suburbia

In "The Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood," Agent Seeley Booth and Dr. Temperance “Bones” Brennan are talking with psychologist Sweets about a murder that occurred in a cul-de-sac in a suburban neighborhood. Their conversation humorously reveals not only the ongoing conflict between the professions of Bones and Sweets (anthropology and psychology) but also some all-too-often prevalent attributes of suburban communities—and broken communities in general.

Sweets: Suburbanites tend to put too much emphasis on their outward accomplishments. Now this creates a sense of detachment.

Booth: Ennui.

Sweets (impressed): Very insightful.

Booth (pleased): That’s right.

Sweets: All right. The inherent uniformity and shared ideals of a planned community suggest that the neighborhood can be psychologically analyzed as a single, dysfunctional personality.

Bones: You mean you can look at it anthropologically?

Sweets (irritated): Really, you’re gonna shanghai my whole discipline?

Bones: You’re tapping into what anthropologists call “lines of influence, dominance and persuasion.”

Booth (impatiently): Go on, Sweets. Just let him go on.

Sweets: So, we can look at the community as a single dysfunctional personality, dealing with sexual infidelity, indebtedness, resentment…. Suburbanites will not only lie to outsiders, they’ll lie to each other and to themselves.

Bones: What Sweets means is that societal norms endemic to the suburban acculturation dichotomize exterior postures and clandestine protocols.

Booth (growing even more impatient): Just give me one thing that’s gonna help me catch the murderer—just one thing.

Sweets: Alright, deal with these people as separate elements of a collective personality. Identify the threat that Kurt Bessette posed to their psychological equanimity, and the killer will emerge.

Bones (surprised): I agree.

Booth (throwing up his hands): It doesn’t help me one bit.

Heh, this was a fantastic episode of Bones that reminded me a bit of the same themes and dysfunction more darkly explored in the Rear Window honoring Disturbia (see my muses on the film here). As folks have noted before, modern neighborhoods tend to foster privacy more than community. As a result, you can actually live in a neighborhood where you don’t know anyone—and you don’t have to let anyone know you. And, as Sweets points out above, that tends to lead us to focus on “outward accomplishments” rather than real, authentic relationships—and that enhances our sense of detachment from each other.

But, I must admit, I was particularly struck by Sweets’ explanation of a neighborhood or community as a “collective personality” or “single, dysfunctional personality.” Interestingly, this seems to suggest that we are part of a community whether we want to be part of it or not—that whether we intend them to or not, our actions (or lack of action) and words (or lack of them) influence and participate in the formation of the communities in which we live. We are—each and every one of us—responsible for the way our community functions and the state of its collective health.

And that’s definitely good food for thought not only when it comes to the neighborhoods and communities in which we live but also the living-together we do as believers.


(Image: Fox via Hulu)

TV Snapshot: Faith & science

In the "Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood" episode of Bones, Hodgins asks Jeffersonian intern Arastoo, a devout Muslim, how he balances “an archaic religious belief with a life devoted to science.”

Arastoo: There’s no conflict between Allah and science. Allah created the mystery of the world and science struggles and mostly fails to explain it. But the search for truth is honorable and I honor Allah with the search for truth.

(Image: Fox via Hulu)

More on covenant community

I'm a bit behind on this, but MWR posted several of the columns in a 13 week series I'm writing that correspond with scripture used in an international Sunday school lesson plan for NCCC member denominations. The series is focusing on the story of our redemption and its connection to God's covenant community, and these three look at Jesus and his invitations to the kingdom and the kind of covenant community God’s had in mind all along. "One set free" explores Jesus' encounter with the legion-possessed man; "Crumbs of life" focuses on his encounter with the Syrophoenician woman (by which I personally was fascinated--what happened in her life to lead her to such a place of smart, humble assertiveness? Where was the girl's father? How did she learn so much about Jesus that she could respond the way she did?); and "A radical call" takes yet another look at Jesus' well-known encounter with the rich man.

As I've said before, I'm really enjoying this series and what I'm learning about what it means to be God's people and who he's called and enabled us to be. But I must admit, I found myself resonating with New Testament prof Daniel Kirk who tweeted today: "Knee deep in the deeds of the kingdom. Unfortunately, that means 'preparing to teach on them,' not 'doing them'!"

Rediscovering 'Sanctuary'

"Let’s just say that I’m someone who’s chosen to embrace the full spectrum of our reality. There are things in this city—in this world—that no one wants to admit are real."

--Dr. Helen Magnus, Sanctuary

Over the summer, I experienced the wonders of watching television online—and one of the series I caught up on was Sanctuary, a SyFy series (the second season of which begins this Friday) about 157 year old Dr. Helen Magnus and her colleagues who operate the Sanctuary, an organization that seeks out “abnormals” (non-human creatures) to learn from, offer refuge or (in the more dangerous cases) contain. Heh, as Ken put it last year on his blog, “it’s a bit cheesy” but I was intrigued by the series’ theme that reality is much bigger and contains much greater wonders (and horrors) than we generally perceive—and that’s a theme that often brings God-talk into these open spaces.

Last fall, the series fell by the wayside in the wake of all the other television shows we were watching, but in the waning summer season I caught up (I watched them commercial-free at no cost on Netflix Instant--and no, I'm not getting paid for that statement). Ken pegs the series' weaknesses fairly well, but the series has its moments, too.

I must admit I find it interesting how more than one episode uses unique forms or structures to tell its story. Like the Cloverfield-esque “Instinct,” which had me jumping out of my skin and yelping like a teenage girl (which I probably haven’t done watching a television show or movie since I was that age, heh). I have an aversion to arachnoid or insect-like things to begin with, so this non-human abnormal literally made my skin crawl. But the beauty of the episode (besides the fact that it guest-starred Rekha Sharma, who played Tory Foster on Battlestar Galactica) was that the creature was on the screen for only seconds—in fact, the above picture was the only clear shot you ever get. The creep factor was that you knew it was out there in the dark, but you couldn’t see it. Shudder.

And then there’s “Requiem”: the whole episode takes place on a tiny submarine with Magnus and Zimmerman being the only two characters in the entire episode; and while the episode stretched thin at some points, it ultimately carried itself. Similarly, “Kush” takes place almost entirely in one place as well—the shell of an airplane that has crashed in the Himalyas—and is rather reminiscent of an Agatha-Christie-like murder mystery (with a definite sci-fi flavor). Heh, then there’s “Nubbins,” which takes a really nasty little twist on tribbles.

Also, I found myself appreciating some of the themes the series touches on as well. In addition to the idea that there is a much larger and magnificent reality about us than we comprehend, I also resonated with the theme of redemption in the story thread concerning John Druitt, who’s as old as Magnus but has sustained so much brain damage using his powers that he became a twisted killer—in fact, he was the original Jack the Ripper. But when he is tortured and almost killed by the rogue and vampiric Tesla, Druitt's insanity is reversed. But with the return of his sanity also comes his conscience, and he’s faced with the reality of the horrible acts he’s committed. Actor Christopher Heyerdahl—who also plays Bigfoot in the series (don’t ask)—makes believable Druitt’s struggle with his remorse and struggle to find ways to atone for all the pain and hurt he’s caused. And even though some of the characters choose to believe and forgive him, as in real life, it’s a struggle to earn back their trust.

Now, even with all these innovative aspirations and God-talking themes, I know this series is no Emmy-winning piece of art (yet, at least). It may even have more weaknesses than strengths. But, I must admit, it’s earned a place on my DVR (or at least on my Hulu subscriptions).

(Images: SyFy)

Random Beliefs Meme

It all comes down to fair play. I tagged Jeremy of Free Old Testament Audio on the Bible Movies Meme, so he tagged me on the Random Beliefs Meme, which was started by Doug Chaplin. According to Chaplin, “Here’s the idea. Post a collection of 10 things you believe, ethical, philosophical or theological. You choose how much to connect them or make them coherent: do you want people to know where you belong, or do you want to mix and match to keep them guessing? I encourage you not to aim for a totally coherent credal statement of faith, and I also encourage you to put one or two in about controversial topics.” So, here you go:

1. I believe it all comes down to love—real Love.

2. I believe salvation and redemption are not doctrines but a radical, challenging, humbling, frustrating, freeing, breathtaking, amazing-love-beyond-imagination relationship.

3. I believe Jesus is who he says he is and can do what he says—and I believe when we trust God is who he says and can do what he says that, somehow, someway, we discover that God's Spirit is in us—living and breathing God. I can’t explain it, but that’s the way Paul puts it and that’s how I experience it.

4. I believe life is a journey and not a destination.

5. I believe there is extraterrestrial life out there, somewhere, in the universe. (Luckily, I think I'm in good company.)

6. I believe music is ethereal.

7. I believe I don’t know as much as I think I do about most things—and that I know more than I think I do about others.

8. I believe the glass is half empty—and half full.

9. I believe curry must be leftover from Eden; nothing else can explain the near mystical experience I have when I smell, cook with or taste it.

10. I believe there is no conflict between faith and science.


And, who do I tag?! A lot of those I would tag have already been tagged, and I just tagged a bunch of others a few days ago for the other meme. So, Lauren, I’m sorry, but you didn't play last time so you’re on deck again. And Beth, if you have time you might find this fun. Ken, you tagged me, so guess what? You’re tagged, too. Fair play, and all that. Heh. Anyone else who wants to play, feel free!

TV Snapshot: Wrestling with who we are

Dollhouse head of security Boyd Langton is talking with Dr. Claire Saunders, who is struggling with her discovery at the end of last season that she used to be an “active” (people whose personalities have been wiped clean and can be imprinted with any number of new personas) named Whiskey who was imprinted with the personality of the Dollhouse’s former physician who had been killed. In Saunders’ words, her “entire existence was constructed.” When Langton asks her to go to dinner with him, she is caught off guard and unsure how to answer.

Saunders: I don’t go out.

She sits down at the desk, looking off into the distance.

Saunders: I’m afraid to leave this place. I have a problem with crowds, with people, and sunlight. Open spaces. Noise. Pets.

She looks meaningfully at Langton.

Saunders: For some reason I’m just built that way.

Langton: Every person I know is pretty poorly constructed. Everyone has an excuse for not dealing, but eventually that’s all they are: excuses.

Saunders: Hmm. What’s yours?

I resonated with this exchange in the season primeier of Fox’s Dollhouse. It reminds me of those deeper truths about who we are—and who we were created to be.

When I heard Langton’s words, I thought of scripture’s description of how we are all broken, our “construction” cracked and riddled with fears and flaws. Yet, like Saunders—even with her intentionally broken construction—has the power to make choices about her fears and flaws, we too have a choice of how to respond to being a broken shadow of our original creation. Refusing to deal with it or even choosing to settle for it can be expressed in excuses. But in the end, as Langton implies, excuses are simply a choice we make.

Interestingly, one of the running themes in Dollhouse is that there seems to be something in us that breaks through the programming and begs to remember who we really are. I can’t help but think how this reflects our experience as well: Whether (like Saunders) our brokenness is inflicted upon us by others and the broken world in which we live or it’s simply a part of the broken and cracked reality of human nature (as Langton suggests), there seems to be something in us that wonders if we and the world around us weren’t meant to be better, more whole. Like the actives in Dollhouse, there’s something in us that begs to remember what that was like.

If Scripture is right, this makes sense. We were created good and whole, walking in utter freedom with God and each other in the wide open spaces of God’s grace and glory. But then came that day when our hearts ripped and broke, when the cancer that is sin greedily scuttled through the wounds and ravaged our very core. We broke. But, God refused to leave us the way, living as an echo of what we once were. He assailed that malignant evil that infects and strangles our hearts. All along, he’s been working to redeem, restore and return us, to make it all right once more—to not only help us remember who we are but also help us to become who were created to be.

What we do with all that is up to us. But I, for one, appreciate a series that helps me to think about these things—and bring God-talk into open spaces.

(Image: Fox via Hulu)

'Surrogates': Not quite the real thing

“We're not meant to experience the world through a machine.”

--The Prophet, Surrogates

Last weekend, my husband and I saw Surrogates, a sci-fi film set a few decades in the future where the vast majority of people live virtually through near-perfect android substitutes called “surrogates” and never leave their homes. Crime and death rates are at all time lows, but FBI agent Harvey Greer (Bruce Willis) finds himself investigating the destruction of two surrogates and the death of their operators. While I enjoyed the film and would even recommend it, I have to admit I had hoped for more.

On the surface, it seems to have the same basic plot as the graphic novel by Robert Venditti from which the film is adapted (and which I thoroughly enjoyed), but I found that the changes the film makes from the original story result in a significant loss of depth and impact of the relevant themes the story explores. While the film still touches on a number of these themes (some of which bring God-talk into open spaces), as Peter Chattaway puts it in his review at Christianity Today, “the result is a movie that is worth a look but could have been much more.”

(Warning: Major spoilers and plot twists for the graphic novel and the film ahead. Sorry, I couldn’t see a way to discuss these points without touching on major plot points and twists in either story. For much less spoilerish takes on the film, see Chattaway's review above or any others of the many reviews out there.)

Of the more significant changes, the film completely removes the graphic novel’s character of Steeplejack, whom we later discover is a surrogate operated by Dr. Lionel Canter (who invented the surrogate technology), and changes the motivations for Canter’s desire and actions to destroy surrogates. Early in the graphic novel, Steeplejack attacks two random surrogates by physically touching them with and releasing energy from his hand, which destroys the surrogates but leaves the operators alive. In the film, however, it is a human who has been hired and given a weapon by the corporation making surrogates to assassinate Dr. Canter because of his opposition to surrogate use—and instead of simply frying the surrogates, the weapon also kills the operators. In the film, the corporation and the assassin thought they killing Dr. Canter but the doctor’s son, who unknown to them was using the surrogate, is killed instead.

It is this act in the film that actually initiates Dr. Canter’s actions to destroy all surrogates—and he’s motivated by revenge rather than a well-thought-out plan born out of regret, dissatisfaction and perhaps misguided but heart-felt desire to do what’s best for mankind in the novel. As a result, the graphic novel’s themes and exploration of personal responsibility and the motives we operate from and acts we undertake (including self-sacrifice) as we search for redemption and struggle to do what is best for each other are dulled. The film continues the exploration of these themes to some extent through Greer, but the graphic novel’s exploration of these themes from the perspectives of both Dr. Canter and Greer (as well as The Prophet) adds a complexity and depth to the novel that the film lacks.

And then there’s that significant change regarding the character of The Prophet, whom we discover is a tool of Dr. Canter in the film and thus is effectively reduced to a caricature rather than the very human, formidable, true-believer and challenging figure of the novel (see my musings on the graphic novel for more on this). As a result, the religious themes, challenges and questions present in the novel are much shallower in the film. In fact, they are rather nonexistent.

And the change the film makes to the ending of the graphic novel regarding Greer’s wife—while definitely happier than the novel—detracts from the seriousness, weight and consequences the story raises regarding our dependence on technology and our relationship with it.

But, to be honest, I did enjoy the film. It is well paced and the suspense is good, as are the special effects for the most part—and it does have its moments. In addition to the ones Chattaway touches on in his review, I thought the image of Greer’s surrogate hanging in a crucifix position is a good symbol of the agent’s freedom and re-birth into a new life (as, among other things, the cross enacts and symbolizes for us). And I appreciated, like Chattaway, Greer’s emotional reaction to a group of boys playing baseball inside the Dred reservation (where most technology is banned); it is a poignant moment in his reconnection not only with the people and world around him but also to his growing acceptance of his sense of loss from the death of his son. And Greer’s anxiety at having to experience the world first hand after his surrogate is destroyed was interesting and thought-provoking. When we spend so much time communicating with others through technology, the onslaught of the natural world to our senses and the complexity of real world relationships can be overwhelming. And, as Chattaway also points out, Greer’s physical vulnerability in acting without a surrogate accentuates the value of life that we appreciate all the more when we realize how fragile it is.

So, even though the film’s intent to challenge us with the novel's themes and to consider our own relationship with and use of technology isn’t as effective as it could have been, it still presents us with a chance (like the graphic novel) to consider our own involvement with virtual reality and technologies—from MMORPGs to blogs, forums and boards where we can create our own identities and personas—that allow us to communicate and interact without leaving our homes. How do these kinds of technologies change the way we relate to each other? To the world around us? Is there something lost? What? And is whatever we gain with our use (and, yes, abuse) of that technology worth the sacrifice of whatever we lose? The surrogates in both the film and novel range in sophistication and cost—is there a relationship between technology and wealth? How does that affect the “have-nots”? And what about the claim that surrogates reduce our risks—do we buy into the illusion that wealth and technology can protect us from the reality of death, suffering and darkness?

These are all good questions that we would do well to explore—I just wish we could be asking them in the context of a story closer to that of the graphic novel than the adaptation we have in Surrogates.

(Images: Surrogates poster and images, Touchstone)

Bible Movies Meme

Ken at COrthodoxy tagged me with a Bible Movie Meme started by Matt at Broadcast Depth. It asks you to name your three favorite “Bible movies” and one that you would like to see made. Heh, I’m taking some liberties on this one, and I’ll fully admit these aren’t the best ever made—just my favs (and not necessarily in order):

Evan Almighty. This is not a Bible movie per se, but it is a modern spin on one: Noah and the Ark. One scene I absolutely loved in this film was when God (portrayed by Morgan Freeman) explains the story of Noah as a “love story.” And you can’t beat the scene of Evan and God dancing at the end of the film; it is a wonderful image of the desire of God to be with us in love and joy, and it still makes me smile to think about it. (See more of my thoughts on the film here.)

Kings. This, too, isn’t a Bible movie per se—heh, for that matter, it’s not even a movie. But this short-lived television series (that was cancelled like a lot of other good series) is directly based on the story on the story of King David, taking the story and characters to a modern day New York-like kingdom. Ian McShane’s performance as Silas (a.k.a. Saul) was brilliant, adding a great deal of depth to his biblical counterpart and eliciting both sympathy and sorrow from me for his choices and path in life. I also thought the writers’ choice as to why Michelle (Michal) chooses to “reject” David presents an interesting speculation on the biblical Michal’s motivations after David flees. I must admit, however, that I initially was a little put off by David’s character; the biblical character—who as a boy had slain lions in defense of his sheep—was much more battle-hardened early in life, while this rendition seemed much too innocent and ignorant. However, by the end of the series, David resembled his biblical counterpart much more closely. I particularly appreciated the exploration of David’s struggle between his passion to support and his moral fortitude to confront a king chosen by God who had slipped so far from the path. One aspect of the series that disappointed me was the absence of the deep friendship between Jack (Jonathan) and David. It would have been interesting to see if and how they worked that relationship out in the series. All in all, however, I was thrilled to watch such a story—and I was deeply disappointed when it failed to secure an audience big enough to warrant its survival. For more on my thoughts on this series, see the Kings category.

One Night with the King. This one actually is a Bible movie, retelling Esther’s story—and while it wasn’t a critical or box office favorite (nor a favorite among biblical scholars, professional or amateur), I couldn’t help myself. It’s one of the only films produced by a Christian studio that I actually like. Yes, it had its faults—it strays more than once from its biblical source, suffers at times due to an unpolished script, and what was up with James Callis’ voice?!—but I enjoyed the story and Tiffany Dupont was notable as Esther. (For more of my thoughts on this film, go here.)

What Bible story would I like to see made into a movie? Awhile back, I was reading through Genesis and thought it would be fascinating to see a film about the story of Joseph from the perspective of Asenath, who became his wife after his ascent to power. Not much is known about her, but the apocryphal stories surrounding her have a lot of fodder for a good story. Also, after just spending some time researching Jesus’ encounter with the Syrophoenician woman in Mark, I think a story from her perspective would also be fascinating. Who was she? How did she, most likely a wealthy woman from a pagan city, know so much about Jesus that she could understand the riddle-like response he gave to her request to free her daughter? Where was the girl’s father? What happened in her life to give her such humility yet such tenacity, confidence and assertiveness?

And now, I tag Lauren, Solshine, Don, Jason and Joe. And, Peter Chattaway or Ken Morefield, if you read my blog and do these things, heh, I tag you too. Oh, and anyone else who wants to play, feel free. If you do and have a chance, drop a comment and let me know when you’ve played.

(Images: Evan Almighty poster, Universal; Kings DVD cover, NBC; One Night with a King poster, Gener8xion Entertainment)

TV Snapshot: Learning to love above the line

In the “Harbingers in the Fountain” episode of Bones, FBI Agent Seeley Booth and forensic scientist Dr. Temperance Brennan have been working with psychic Avalon after she told them about a group of bodies buried by a fountain (among them her sister). Throughout the episode, Avalon has observed that the relationship between Booth and Bones runs deeper than either of them care or want to admit. Near the end of the episode, Avalon confronts Brennan about her life.

Avalon: All riddles are solvable to you—except for one.

Brennan: Yes, the riddle of how you knew where your sister was buried.

Avalon: No, the riddle you can’t solve is how somebody could love you.

Brennan laughs, albeit, a little too self-consciously.

Brenan: Well, I’m beautiful and very intelligent.

Avalon: The answer to the question you are afraid to say out loud is: Yes, he knows the truth of you. And he’s dazzled by that truth.

There aren’t many of us who don’t desire to be loved by someone who knows how broken we are but is still dazzled by the truth of who we are. When Avalon speaks those last few sentences, I have to admit that I was moved—not only because of what it meant to Brennan to hear those words in the context of her story but also because of a deeper truth I’ve come to experience in the last few years and the challenge that experience presents in how I approach others.

For years, I had head knowledge of God’s love but it wasn’t until a few years ago that I really began to experience that love. It began as God rented my world with images of his love. Especially that image of a father gazing down a road every day, longing for his prodigal son. Who rushes to meet his longed-for boy while he was yet a long way down the road. The unbridled child running to a love-brimmed father. A swirl of strong arms enveloping abandoned joy. Love. Acceptance. Right-ness. Oh-so-indescribable and abounding grace.

It still floors me to realize that God sees us like that son—that this is the truth of who we are. That we can run him like that. That all’s right, forgiven, bold and beautiful, right and pure, perfect and righteous. What it means that we call him Abba, that we live and belong in wide open spaces of his grace and glory, that we are new and free and loved beyond measure.

This scene from Bones reminds me of all that. It reminds me that we all carry the echoes of who we were created to be at the beginning of the Story—that we were good. And it reminds me that God, who knows better than all how broken we are, also knows and loves the truth of who we are. And that kind of love changes everything.

This truth deepened awhile back when I ran across Dan Stone’s concept of living above or below the line, a helpful articulation on the difference between how God sees us and how we experience ourselves using a concept based on 2 Corinthians 4:18: “… while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” Stone draws a proverbial line between the seen and unseen, with above line being the unseen and eternal and below the seen and temporary. Above the line, we are new (Colossians 2:10, 2 Corinthians 5:21, Col. 1:22).” Below the line, “we are in the process of being sanctified. We have needs. Our emotions fluctuate. Our behavior changes. We experience growth.”

Our problem comes, says Stone, in where we get our identity. Do we get it above the line or below? Do we get it below the line—where we fail, sin and fall short—or do we get it above the line “in our spirit” where we find “the identity God gave us at our new birth”? We must focus above the line, says Stone:

In God’s economy, in the seen realm we become because in the unseen realm we already are. As we know and rest in unseen and eternal truth, God manifests that truth in the visible realm. ‘For by one offering He has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.’ In the unseen and eternal realm, God has already perfected us. In the seen and temporal realm, God is bringing that perfection, or completion, into view.

That’s why we can say we are complete and a new creation while simultaneously, in the seen and temporal realm, a process is going on. From God’s point of view, in the unseen and eternal realm, we are a finished product. At the same time, in the seen and temporal, He is continuing to work the truth deeper into us and conform us to His image.

This is the truth of who we are—and when the truth of that begins to sink in, it is no less than dazzling. Living in that truth and being loved like that changes your life. It’s definitely changing mine.

And it’s also changing how I understand, view and approach those with whom I cross paths. John tells us we love because God first loved us. I’ve come to see this less as a command than an explanation or natural cause-and-effect aspect of who we are. When we experience that love, we will love. As we begin to allow the truth of God’s love to sink into us, we will also begin to love others as we are loved. We will see the brokenness of others but we also will see the truth of others as God sees the truth of us—and we’ll be dazzled by it.

Of course, just as it takes some effort to learn to live above the line, it also takes effort to learn to see the above-the-line truth in others. Just as we work and cooperate with God to allow that truth of how much we are loved seep in and change the way we think about ourselves, it will take effort to change the way we think about others, too.

We are enabled to love others as God loves us, and as we work with God in allowing that truth to sink deeper into us so that we can live as we were created to, we'll not only learn how to live above the line but love about the line as well.

(Image: Fox via Hulu)

Food for thought: Sci-fi and God

From The Gospel According to Science Fiction: From the Twilight Zone to the Final Frontier by Gabriel McKee:

Powers beyond our everyday understanding do exist, and there is mystery and wonder to be found in the vast reaches of the universe. SF has explored the idea of divinity in countless ways, speculating as to what sort of gods we may encounter in our unimagined future. Its authors have frequently portrayed gods that exist within the realm of scientific explanation--aliens that control powers beyond our understanding, human beings who have raised themselves to a higher level of existence, or computers that exhibit near supernatural abilities. Just as frequently, however, SF writers have described beings outside the reach of today's science: galactic minds, extradimensional entities, and vastly powerful intelligences that guide the universe. In showing us new ways of thinking about God, SF writers challenge our understanding of both Creator and creation, presenting definitions of divinity that encompass both science and fiction.

(Image: book cover slice)

If you watch 'Defying Gravity' and live in the U.S. . . .

Here in the U.S., ABC recently stopped airing Defying Gravity after the eighth episode, and left us hanging with a vague promise to air the rest of the episodes when they can. Not so in Canada, where CTV aired the ninth episode last week. Which is a good one—and one that propels us forward by leaps and bounds in the story. And you can see (at least for the next few days) online here (hat tip Examiner). Unfortunately, it looks like CTV is also going the route of ABC: they're also taking the series off the air for now.

I must say, the Internet is quickly becoming one of my preferable ways of viewing television programs. Last month, I watched the entire first season of SyFy’s Sanctuary on Netflix Instant (for free!) and this weekend I watched the first two episodes of Castle on iTunes (I’d missed them the first time around). And since there are at least four programs I want to watch on Thursday nights at the same time (and my DVR can only record two), I’ll most likely be watching the first season of FlashForward on Hulu. I know I’m late to the game on this, but I must admit that I am really enjoying the convenience and adaptability of being able to watch TV on my laptop instead of the living room.

(Image: screenshot of CTV)

More on covenant community

MWR posted the fifth in a 13 week series of columns I'm writing that correspond with scripture used in an international Sunday school lesson plan for NCCC member denominations. “Community in Jesus” shifts the focus on the story of our redemption and its connection to God's covenant community in the Old Testament to the NT, with a look at Jesus and his invitations to the kingdom and the kind of covenant community God’s had in mind all along. As I've said before, I'm really enjoying this series and what I'm learning about what it means to be God's people and who he's called and enabled us to be.