in the open space: God & culture

TV Snapshot: On forgiveness

2012-01-31T17:00:00.000-05:00

In the “A Cinderella Story” episode of Fox's quirky procedural drama The Finder, former lawyer Leo Knox is talking with Willa Monday, who is on probation and under Leo’s supervision. Willa ambushed and assaulted the man responsible for the death of Leo's wife and daughter in a misguided attempt to repair her relationship with Leo and make up for a mistake she made earlier.

Leo: Violence comes from anger. I know what I’m talking about.

Willa: Because Nathan Stein made a decision he knew would kill your wife and daughter?

Leo: When I set out to kill Nathan Stein, Walter stopped me. That’s why we’re all together now.

Willa (trying to understand): I know it made you glad to see that man all bruised and beaten up.

Leo: My heart soared. But what my heart needs is to forgive.

Willa: He doesn’t deserve it!

Leo: I deserve it. You deserve it.

Willa pauses.

Willa: What was your daughter’s name?

Leo turns to look at her.

Leo: Ellie. Her name was Ellie, and I loved her.

Willa is silent.

Willa: Thank you for forgiving me.

Abram's Alcatraz: The promise of a good story

2012-01-30T16:30:00.002-05:00

Fox/Alcatraz

In "Kit Nelson," Dr. Diego Soto is talking with Dylan, a boy who recently escaped and was then rescued from a serial child killer. The boy confesses he is still scared, and Soto shares his own experience with the boy:

Soto: When I was a kid, about your age, something happened… where someone … took me ... just like that guy who took you, right. And it wasn’t easy, but…

He trails off.

Soto: I got away too. And once that happens—once you know that … you can do that—it sorta gives you a superpower—

He looks at Dylan's comic books.

Soto: --like theirs, but … real.

Dylan looks at the comic books and smiles a little.

Dylan: I didn’t give up, like you said.

Soto: I know you didn’t.

I am a long time fan of J.J. Abrams’ stories. I count Felicity, Alias and Lost among my favorite television series. I loved what he did with Star Trek and Super8 was one of the best films of last year. Now he has his hand in a new story: Fox’s Alcatraz, which reveals that the island prison’s inmates weren’t actually transferred to other prisons when it was shut down in 1963 as history records—instead, they and a handful of guards suddenly and mysteriously disappeared. Now the inmates are reappearing in present day, unaged and with mysterious and (so far) murderous missions. FBI agent Emerson Hauser (Sam Neill), SFPD detective Rebecca Madsen (Sarah Jones) and Dr. Diego Soto (Jorge Garcia) are drawn together to track down the escapees and protect the world from whoever or whatever is behind it all.

The series has its weakness. It seems like it’s still finding its feet. Abrams’ touch feels more subtle on this one than his other series; I wish it were stronger. Niell needs a larger character and Jones feels a bit miscast to me. But Alcatraz definitely has my attention—especially after last week’s episode “Kit Nelson."

The heart and strength of the series has quickly settled on Jorge Garcia’s Alcatraz guru and comic book writer, Dr. Diego Soto. Critics have been quick to note the similarities between Garcia’s Hurly from Lost and Alcatraz's Soto, one of the more interesting being that Garcia’s character provides us the audience with a voice and lens through which to experience Abrams’ mysterious world. And this is another strong draw of the series; Abrams’ universes tend to include the existence of something greater around us, with larger forces and plans—and how the characters encounter and react to that greater reality in Abrams’ stories tends to reveal something about us (and that tends to bring God-talk into these opens spaces).

There is something of this in Soto’s observation at the end of the episode (above). We all know people—in history and in our own lives—who have endured suffering and horror. For some, it changes them for the worse, something we’ve seen in some of the inmates in the series so far. For others, against all logic and odds the experience leaves them stronger and more compassionate people. And we get an inkling of that in Soto, who seems to have endured a similar horrific experience as a child. The experience of survival versus the horror of the suffering has become a strength.

And while that truth is powerful enough on its own, the scene reminds me of an even deeper truth. When we have suffered yet trusted God in the darkness and come through on the other side, it leaves us changed and strengthened, almost as if hope is engrained deep in our bones. In my experience, that exerts itself in the dark times that follow. We still suffer and the darkness still oppresses, but something’s changed; we've changed. Even if only in brief moments, something stirs of its own volition, moves on its terms, churns with its own life. Hope takes root and survives. In some sense it feels, to borrow Soto’s words, like “a superpower … only real.”

The series—this episode in particular—raises some difficult issues and questions when it comes to our transformations we experience as human beings. “Kit Nelson” focused on child abduction and murder, and the episode squarely places this kind of criminal at the very bottom of despicable, with one inmate telling another that he is despised not because of what he did but because of who he is. This idea that we act out of who we are invites questions about the nature of sin and redemption. And I can't help but think of a quote from C.S. Lewis’ The Weight of Glory about the implications of the immortal nature of us all:

It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.

Can such an immortal creature as Kit Nelson be redeemed? Is he even capable of making decisions in that direction? Or is there a point in which we make so many wrong choices we are irredeemable—at least on this side of death? And, more personally, what makes us choose a path towards light and redemption in the face of suffering and horror while another chooses a path towards darkness? Perhaps the rest of Lewis’ quote gives us a good place to start:

All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendours. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously—no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner—no mere tolerance or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment.

Alcatraz has a lot of things I love in stories—a character who is rooted in story itself and understands the world better because of it, the discovery of a vaster (both beautiful and frightening) reality in which we live, twists and surprises. But mostly, and probably mostly because of Garcia, it has the makings of a good story—one that explores what it means to be human, tells us something more about the world and reality in which we live, and ultimately, brings God-talk into open spaces.

If a TARDIS disguised itself as a Pinewood Derby car ...

2012-01-26T18:58:00.003-05:00

(back view)

(front view)

....maybe it would look something like the car my son made for his entry in this year's Cub Scout Pinewood Derby.

Yes, his mama is proud.

How to look like the celebrities. Heh.

2012-01-14T10:51:00.001-05:00

"Maybe she's born with it. Nah, I'm pretty sure it's Photoshop."

'Walking Dead': What makes this life worth living

2012-01-11T16:24:00.000-05:00

AMC

“The genre is not about making you feel good, it is about making you face your fears…. To me, the horror genre is the genre of non-denial. It's about admitting that there is evil in the world, and recognizing that there is evil within us, and that we're not in control, and that the things that we are afraid of must be confronted in order for us to relinquish that fear. And I think that the horror genre serves a great purpose in bolstering our understanding of what is evil and therefore better defining what is good. And of course I'm talking about, really, the potential of the horror genre, because there are a lot of horror films that don't do these things. It is a genre that's full of exploitation, but the better films in the genre certainly accomplish, I think, very noble things.”

~ Director Scott Derrickson (Hellraiser: Inferno, The Exorcism of Emily Rose) discussing the value of horror with film critic and interviewer Peter Chattaway in a 2005 interview in Christianity Today

In general, I am not a fan of horror but I am hooked on AMC’s The Walking Dead, which arguably has some of the best writing and storytelling on television. This gritty and unsettling series is based on the same-titled graphic novels that focuses on a group of survivors during a zombie apocalypse. The series is a thought-provoking example of Derrickson’s observations, confronting us with the evil without and within (Shane deserves his own series of posts), what it means to live in a world outside of our control, and confronting us with our fears. But I am particularly struck by how the third episode of this season confronts us with the question of what, if anything, makes life worth living in the midst of overwhelming suffering and horror—and that brings God talk into these open spaces.

“Save the Last One” isn’t the first episode to deal with this theme. In fact, it runs through the entire series. But this episode is one of the best bringing this theme to the front burner. It is most poignantly explored in the relationship between Rick and Lori Grimes, whose son Carl has been accidently shot and lies on death’s door waiting for essential medical equipment in order for a doctor to perform surgery to remove the bullet fragments. Both characters have seen unimaginable horror, death, suffering and loss, but facing the death of their son has reduced a usually strong and determined Lori to wonder aloud to Rick if their son wouldn’t be better off dead:

AMC

Lori: Why do we want Carl to live in this word? To have this life? So he can see more people torn apart in front of him? So that he can be hungry and scared for however long he has before he…

She trails off.

Lori: So he can run and run and run and run? And then even if he survives he ends up—he ends up just another animal who doesn’t know anything except survival? If he—if he dies tonight, it ends for him. Tell me why it would better another way.

Rick asks what’s changed to make her feel this way. She remembers her friend and fellow survivor Jacqui who committed suicide last season.

Lori: She doesn’t need to be afraid anymore. Hungry. Angry. It hasn’t stopped happening, Rick. It’s like we live with a knife at our throats every second of every day. But Jacqui doesn’t. Not anymore.

Rick refuses to accept that philosophy.

Rick: You really think Carl would be better off dead? If we just gave up?

Lori: Tell me why it would be better the other way. (She pauses, desperate.) Please.

By this point, we realize Lori is begging for a reason to live—a place, if we are honest, not uncommon in human experience. Far too many of us have found ourselves in a dark season where suffering and fear lurk and assault us like “a knife at our throats every second of every day.” This is a genius of horror: the zombies give our suffering and fears—that sometimes feel as if they surround and come at us relentlessly, hungrily, ruthlessly, ready to devour our very lives—physical form. The question Lori asks is a deeply human one, a question we hear throughout history, from the grief of Job, the psalmist’s cries, and Jeremiah’s laments to the griefs, cries and laments we hear from those around us today (and maybe even ourselves). A scene like this confronts us with an all too real place we get to in the midst of suffering: Give me a reason to live, to keep going.

Andrea is another character who struggles with this in “Save the Last One.” Her younger sister was bitten by a zombie, leaving Andrea to shoot her reanimated corpse. The experience devastated Andrea and she would have committed suicide if another member of their group hadn’t stopped her. She’s still struggling to find a reason to keep going. While looking for a missing member of their group, she and survivor Daryl come across a zombie hanging from a noose in the middle of the woods. Daryl bluntly observes that the man wanted to “opt out” but was too stupid to shoot himself (the only way to prevent a dead body from reanimating as a zombie). Watching the rotting and dangling reanimated corpse try in vain to grab them deeply unsettles Andrea and gives her pause—and gives us a horrifying but thought-provoking contrast to Lori’s idea of suicide as a release.

For Lori, however, the turning point is an image of beauty, grace and life: a deer—in particular, her son’s recollection of encountering one he talks about during one of his brief moments of consciousness. This particularly affects Rick, who tells his wife how the encounter occurred just before Carl was shot:

AMC

Before it happened, we were standing there in the woods and this deer just crossed right in front of us. I swear it just planted itself there and looked Carl right in the eye. And I looked at Carl looking at that deer and that deer looking right back at Carl. And that moment just…

He sighs, looking over at his son unconscious on the bed.

..slipped away. It slipped away. That’s what he was talking about when he woke up, not about getting shot or what happened at the church He talked about something beautiful, something living, There’s still a life for us, a place maybe like this. It isn’t all death out there. It can’t be. We just have to be strong enough after everything we’ve seen to still believe that. Why is it better for Carl to live even in this world? He talked about the deer, Lori. He talked about the deer.

Rick’s story and her son’s recollection of the deer gives Lori hope, the ability to see beyond the horror and suffering—beyond death. It calls her to something more.

AMC

It’s worth noting that in choosing a deer the writers reference a deeply symbolic, supernatural and mythological image throughout literature—one even connected with Christ in Christian writings. It is an image that invites wonder, grace, beauty and awe and calls us to something beyond ourselves.

Images and stories have great power to help us see beyond our current circumstances, to remind us of the larger reality we live in. Ultimately, a good story or image can call us to the Author and Creator himself.

Interestingly, I find this series allows for that. The first half of this season has been peppered with direct references to God, and it’s bookended by scenes of desperate prayers uttered at the feet of an image of Jesus on the cross in a church in the first episode and ending with a quote from Jesus by Maggie in the most recent episode: “A new command I give to you. Love one another as I have loved you” (a reference to John 13:34-35).

In my experience—and perhaps even in The Walking Dead itself—it is ultimately this love that answers Lori’s question. When we reach beyond the darkness to the larger reality we live in, we remember that we are loved. We remember God loves us so much that he goes to the greatest lengths to ensure our Story comes to an amazing, breathtaking end. And in that Story, we, in all our capacity for evil and destruction, are worth saving simply because he loves us. And that—even in the face of the most insidious darknesses—gives us the best kind of hope. It reminds us that, even in the midst of struggle, all will be well. That, no matter what happens in the middle of the Story, we are worth fighting for and saving—and our Story ends good. That can be overwhelmingly difficult to maintain when witnessing or experiencing the overwhelming power of suffering and the evil, but trusting that Story is true makes all the difference.

And that kind of love changes us. Part of being human means each and every one of us knows how to love—deep and desperately. As a follower of Jesus, I can only exclaim, how can we not? If we are created in his image—an image John describes as Love itself—how can we not know how to love? Yet when we experience God's love, our capacity to love grows and deepens. We learn to love as we were created to love. We learn to love with the love we are loved by—a love that conquerors fear, longs for right-ness, and sets out to right the world.

AMC

At one point, Maggie comes upon Glenn praying for his friends on the porch. It is his first time praying. Maggie admits she’s questioning her faith, but as she leaves Glenn to finish his prayer, she tells him:

I know it’s not my business, and feel free to believe in God, but the thing is you’ve got to make it okay somehow, no matter what happens.

Later, Glenn takes her words to heart when he finds her weeping over the loss of one of her friends. He reminds her of her advice to him, and he invites her talk about those she’s lost in order to help comfort her. He acts to help make things better for her—to make things okay.

AMC

Maggie’s words remind me that, in a dark and deeply broken world, we need to work with God to make things okay. We must love as we are loved. This kind of love, like the best of images and stories, calls us to something more. It reminds us of the larger Story in which we live. It transforms us. It gives us hope in the dark.

The Walking Dead is not for everyone. It is very hard to watch at times, both in its graphic depiction of violence and gore, but perhaps even more, in its depictions of the horror in suffering. And knowing where the graphic novels head, I’m not sure I’ll be able to go to all the places the series might take us. But this series does bear out Derrickson’s observations about the noblest efforts of the genre: The Walking Dead invites us to face our fears, define what it is good and, ultimately, remember what makes this life worth living.

A good story in 'Super 8'

2011-11-26T20:24:00.005-05:00

Bad Robot/Amblin

"Bad things happen, but you can still live."

~Joe Lamb, Super 8

We missed Super 8 last summer, so when J.J. Abrams’ sci-fi flick came out on DVD and OnDemand this week we jumped at the chance to see it—and it didn’t disappoint. Set in the late 70s, this engaging tale unfolds from the perspective of Joe Lamb (whom we first meet at the funeral for his mother who died in a mill accident) and his small cadre of middle-school friends making a zombie film--and then witness by chance a massive train crash that unleashes a string of mysterious and dangerous happenings in their small town. In many ways, it felt like watching Goonies (a 1985 film also produced by Steven Spielberg) for the first time—only Super 8 has a little more depth that brings some God-talk into these open spaces.

Both Goonies and Super 8 capture a strong sense of 70s nostalgia and an edgy innocence that seemed to slip away with the 80s (or maybe it was simply that I grew up). All through elementary school, I rode my bike home from school because everyone else did; our parents were more concerned that we’d obediently come straight home from school without detours to a friend’s house than they were about child predators. And while darker, larger events and issues leaked through the black and white images on the television and conversations shared between my parents and their friends, adults were at the periphery of a world that was dominated by my messy room, school, friends, Shaun Cassidy, those innocent flutters of childhood crushes and first loves, novels and notebooks scribbled full of stories and poems. Goonies and Super 8 capture the nostalgic sense of that era well.

But one of the things I liked best about Super 8 was one of the things I liked best about Goonies: the transforming power of authentic friendship, love and community. Like Goonies, the makeshift efforts of a disparate group of kids in Super 8 rights everything at the end of the story and the community is the better and stronger for it. As a result, the kids are more deeply integrated into that community—one that, for all its messiness and brokenness, is one where they are loved, needed, and a valuable part.

In both films, it is through the least, the weakest, the wounded, the ones at the margins that new life is resurrected into a community again—but even more so in Super 8 than Goonies. Forgiveness is given, relationships are mended, and life is restored in spite of the pain and loss that ruptured it. That all this is ushered in through those on the margins of society is more than a small echo of a much deeper truth we see play out all through Scripture, where we watch God work through the ones we least expect to advance his plan to restore a broken world and broken relationships to the wholeness we were intended for.

I also loved the commentary on filmmaking and story throughout the film—what it takes to believe in a story, the creative process as a mess and genius, the impact of a community of artists on one story and how story and life weave together. The best stories are born of our lives and wounds, hearts and imaginations—and they are often collaborative efforts. And sometimes those efforts are besot by seeming catastrophe which, in the end, can make the story better. (I couldn’t help but wonder if this isn't a reflection of how Spielberg felt directing Jaws, a classic example of this.)

But I think Todd Hertz gets at the appeal of Super 8 best—at least for me—in his review at Christianity Today:

But it's clear that Super 8's focus is not the destination of the plot; it's the journey of the characters. Because of that center—and its ties to Spielberg's past—the movie displays some traits not often seen in big summer blockbusters: innocence, wonder, simplicity and authenticity. Of course, those qualities are not dead—in real life or the movies—but they have so commonly been replaced by skepticism, worldliness and complexity. That's not to say the movie doesn't have some of the edgier elements of typical youthful adventures... Bad things—horrible events—happen. But through it all, Super 8 maintains a hopeful wonder and a youthful, simple idealism. Unconditional love is as close as your buddy's house. Your parents are your biggest fans (and heroes). Your bike can take you anywhere. And no matter what junk is happening in life, you can still escape into the world of your Super 8 video camera.

Of late, I've too often fallen into skepticism, but this story reminds me of the best of the basics—the power of love, the presence of wonder, and (to turn a phrase from Hertz) no matter what junk is happening in life, you can still escape into the worlds of storytellers like Abrams. There is great power in good stories because they remind us of what’s important and true. In the end, this story reminds me that, yes, bad things happen but you can still live—that you can love and be loved, that ultimately we are held tight in the arms of a Father who whispers, “I’ve got you.” And in a world that has more than its share of skepticism and bad things, that is something I don’t mind being reminded of.

The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe

2011-11-19T10:15:00.000-05:00

The best Christmas ever!

What do you think, 'Hunger Games' fans?

2011-11-14T21:54:00.000-05:00

Why I like "The Mentalist"

2011-11-09T13:36:00.001-05:00

CBS

My husband and I stumbled on CBS' The Mentalist in the midst of its second season and have been hooked ever since—and last week’s “Blinking Red Light” is a good example of why.

The series is a twist on the criminal procedural, focusing on former psychic conman Patrick Jane who uses his “unorthodox” skills to help the fictional homicide unit of California Bureau of Investigation solve murders and crimes. Jane’s wife and child were murdered by a serial killer named Red John after Jane arrogantly taunted him on television five years before the series begins. While Jane works with the CBI unit to solve crimes, his singular focus is tracking down the elusive serial killer. In “Blinking Red Light,” Jane works with the unit to track down another serial killer: the San Joaquin Killer.

The series’ appeal in general probably has something to do with why I, like so many others, are drawn to procedural dramas. In a post on WetPaint, Drew Belsky says we are drawn to dramas like Law & Order, Bones, CSI and The Mentalist because they reassure us:

As Mark Twain and others have said, “Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; truth isn’t.” In other words, we love shows that solve a mystery or cure a disease in thirty to sixty minutes because that makes sense in an often nonsensical world. These shows give us faith in societal systems (hospital, law enforcement, justice) that often sorely test us in reality.

That makes sense to me. Series like these reveal how we and the world we live in are broken and play to the longing we all have for a world that works right—a world set right. In some sense, these stories echo that longing in Scripture for the return of a world created good, just, full and right—a world and a people who exist and live as they were created to.

The Mentalist is also a good story. Through its stories, crimes and investigations, the series consistently explores why we do the things we do and the consequences of the choices we make. Through the characters and their own stories we learn something about ourselves, the world we live in, the people we walk with and those with whom we cross paths.

But it is also a well-told story, and this episode really exemplifies that. I went into episode spoiler-free and did not see the ending coming (which, frankly, is rare for me)—though I would have picked up a clue if I’d been paying attention to the episode’s title (every episode with the word “red” included has to do with Red John).

Warning: spoilers ahead.

That twist (and the episode as whole, really) skillfully gets at some of Jane’s most intrinsic characteristics—the ones that make him so dang interesting and keep me coming back each week. There is, as in every episode, his impressive and uncanny ability to cut through it all and read people and situations. And the twist at the end—where he sets up SKJ to mock Red John on television (just as Jane himself had done years before) and thus not only ensure the serial killer’s own death but also bring Red John back into open—reveals Jane’s sometimes chilling calculation that almost mirrors his nemesis. Jane’s childhood and the loss of his wife and child have deeply damaged him; he is singularly obsessed (sometimes unsettlingly so) and has repeatedly demonstrated he is willing to sacrifice himself or anyone else in his pursuit of Red John—which, as we saw at the end of last season, seems will only end in his own death or the death of the serial killer.

CBS

But this episode also movingly portrays Jane’s capacity for compassion and selflessness: In a rare and moving physical gesture, Jane rests his hand in compassion and empathy on the shoulder of a father who is watching a video of his daughter who was killed by SJK. Jane usually keeps emotions like these deeply hidden, most likely because the only time he allowed them to flourish was when he loved and was being loved as a husband and a father. Like most of us, having something like that ripped away creates a wound in which we want to bury anything associated to that because it makes us vulnerable. But having been loved and genuinely loving others can deeply brand one’s soul. We see the survival of love’s transformation in moments like this one. They are, ultimately, aspects that give us hope Jane will eventually come through a healed rather than destroyed man—and that ultimately reminds us of the hope we have for our own transformation and the transformation of those around us.

So, yes, The Mentalist appeals to me because of the reassuring nature of criminal procedural dramas and its skillful storytelling. But it is Patrick Jane that brings me back each week. I want to know the end of his story because his story seems to, with all its flaws and grace, reflect something of our own.

Parking lots and faith

2011-11-07T12:31:00.001-05:00

photo: mine

A few weeks ago, I was driving through the church parking lot looking for a parking space before the late afternoon worship service. Just about the time I saw a spot close to the building I also spotted another car at the far end of the lane turn in and come up the row towards me—and my parking space. Two thoughts went through my head in that second:

I saw it first.

Then:

Wait. You’re at church. Let them have it.

When both of us drove by the spot and left it for the other, I could only laugh. Only in a church parking lot.

But as I pulled into another space an aisle over, another thought went through my head: Why don’t you do that all the time?

This wasn’t the first time in the past few months that I’d been confronted with the uncomfortable realizations that my attitudes and outlook on life needed some adjustment. Frankly, it’s been a rough year, and for the last few months it’s felt like I’ve been crawling out from the under the weight of it. Several close family members had grappled with serious health problems, and that both confronted and left me wrestling with the reality of mortality, the fragility of life, and that we all will eventually lose those we love and leave those we love behind. We’d also moved from one city to another and started new schools and a new church, so my support system was thin. And I’ve also faced a couple of challenges health-wise that, while they don’t appear to be anything to write home about in the end, add to the stress. People I know are facing a heck of a lot worse, but it still feels like the foundations of my corner of the world have taken some damage. And, frankly, I didn’t cope as well as I could have. My faith, as Andrew Peterson puts it in Far Country, had gotten “shaken in the dark.” To be honest, there are still days when it doesn’t feel like it would take much to be pulled under again.

But there it was again. That nudge.

I confess, I didn’t like how my first instinct had been to snag the parking spot; it was selfish. And I don’t want to be selfish; I want to be generous. I know from past experience that I am more content being generous than trying to eke out of the world at every turn what I think should be mine. Somewhere over the past year, however, I had allowed a selfish cynicism to take root in me—and I didn’t like it.

So, the next day I did something different. When I went into a parking lot—be it the grocery store, Walmart, the kids’ schools or anywhere else—I intentionally drove past open spaces and parked further out. As I did, I gave those spaces to God to use as he will. That sounds a little corny, but it helped to think that maybe some harried mother of toddlers might use it. Or maybe someone was having a really bad day, and a spot closer to the door would make it just a bit better. Even if it wasn’t going to be used at all, however, I was still consciously replacing a selfish habit with one that would help cultivate a more generous spirit in myself so I could become the kind of person who more consistently put the best interests of others above my own selfishness.

But after awhile, something else began to happen. As I parked, I found myself thinking about how scripture tells us that we can afford to be generous because of who God is and what he says he can do. How he promises to provide everything we need. That he’s not in the business of death but the business of restoration—of our lives, the lives of our children, the lives of the people we love, the lives of the strangers we bump into everyday, the whole world. That he loves me and those I love, that he’s working everything to the good—even things meant for evil. That he is there even if it doesn’t seem like he exists at all. And that, in the end, everything will be okay.

Lately, in my more honest moments, I must confess I’ve had a hard time with that. I’ve walked long enough with God to experience those truths in my life. I’ve also walked with God long enough to know how hard it can be to trust that he is who he says and can do what he says in the darker, murkier times. But one of the other things I’ve learned about darkness is that it isn’t so much a place as it is a kind of blindness, a momentary inability to see the truth. In my experience, sometimes the only thing you can do is wait—and trust.

So, to my parking lot habit I’ve recently added another simple discipline: a mini-meditation or litany of sorts. In the midst of it all, I chose to declare that I trust he is who says and can do what he says in a way akin to that desperate father of a suffering son: “I believe. Help my unbelief.”

It helps to remember that doubt is a natural, if unwelcome, companion in our journey and faith—but of who's flaws we must also be aware. In Christianity Today article “The Benefit of the Doubt,” Mark Buchanan posits that “the depth of our doubt is roughly proportionate to the depth of our faith,” that “those with strong faith have equally strong doubts.” But he cautions, “Here lies the basic flaw of all doubt: it really can never be satisfied. No evidence is ever fully, finally enough. Doubt wants always to consume, never to consummate. It clamors endlessly for an answer, and so drowns out any answer that might be given. It demands proof, but will doubt the proof proffered. Doubt, then, can become an appetite gone wrong; its craving increases the more we try to fill it.” But ultimately, Buchanan says, “Doubt, when honest, should set us on a quest for that which is true, real, that for which we can give not only our intellectual assent but, even more, that to which we can entrust our very lives.”

It is not a comfortable place to be. But it’s a lot better than the place I was.

And I’ve also started to take comfort again in Henri Nouwen’s words about life’s setbacks: “When suddenly you seem to lose all you thought you had gained, do not despair. Your healing is not a straight line. You must expect setbacks and regressions. Don’t say to yourself, ‘All is lost. I have to start all over again.’ This is not true. What you have gained, you have gained… try to think about it instead as being pulled off the road for a while. When you return to the road, you return to the place where you left it, not to where you started.”

Passing by a parking space may seem like a puny effort, but it’s making a difference. On my better days, it amazes me how what little I give to God comes back in waves. Peace and joy are slowly ebbing back into my heart. I can smell hope again. I think more about what it means to love those I am with. I am even bumping into those familiar moments of exquisite joy. And on the not-so-good days? I struggle. But there’s a new defiance in me, a pull from within, a determination to do what little I can to cooperate with God to walk free on that road once more.

Life can get messy, and sometimes the most regular spiritual discipline I can manage is intentionally passing by an open parking space in order to remind myself who God is. But, as it turns out, that can be enough.

Food for thought: Doubt & belief

2011-11-07T11:29:00.000-05:00

photo: mine

"Perhaps that's a general principle: the depth of our doubt is roughly proportionate to the depth of our faith. Those with strong faith have equally strong doubts....

Here lies the basic flaw of all doubt: it really can never be satisfied. No evidence is ever fully, finally enough. Doubt wants always to consume, never to consummate. It clamors endlessly for an answer, and so drowns out any answer that might be given. It demands proof, but will doubt the proof proffered. Doubt, then, can become an appetite gone wrong; its craving increases the more we try to fill it. Christ's concluding words to Thomas are not so much an endorsement of 'mere belief' as a warning that the quest for 'proof' is not the path of blessedness. 'Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.'

Just what is the connection between seeing and believing? Jesus tells Thomas after he sees him to stop doubting and believe. Belief is still called for, still demanded. Seeing does not remove the necessity of belief: seeing is not believing...

Doubt, when honest, should set us on a quest for that which is true, real, that for which we can give not only our intellectual assent but, even more, that to which we can entrust our very lives. Thomas's doubt led to this place. Jesus shows his wounds to Thomas, tells Thomas to see, to touch. He sees, but he doesn't touch. He knows when enough is enough. And here is the real sign that Thomas is not some poseur, some mere academic trend-chaser: his seeing gives way, not just to belief, but to worship: 'My Lord and my God!'"

~Mark Buchannon in "The Benefit of the Doubt"

'Once Upon a Time': How 'The Thing You Love Most' determines the path you walk

2011-11-01T13:06:00.010-04:00

ABC

Since when do I care about anyone’s happiness but my own?

~Evil Queen, Once Upon a Time

In “The Thing You Love Most,” Once Upon a Time tantalizingly reveals a little more about how the Evil Queen became, well, evil—and reveals something about the natures of evil and love in the process. (Spoilers ahead!)

Maleficent/ABC

Among other things, in this episode we discover how the Evil Queen gets her hands on and enacts the curse that destroys the enchanted forest and all its happy endings, condemning all its inhabitants to live in our world with no memory of who they are. It turns out the curse was the Evil Queen’s to begin with, but she traded it Maleficent (the antagonist in Sleeping Beauty) for the Sleeping Curse (which then, of course, is foiled when Prince Charming kisses Snow White). When the Queen takes the curse back from Maleficent by force, Maleficent warns her that she is crossing a terrible line: “All power comes with a price. Enacting it will take a terrible toll. It will leave an emptiness inside you—a void you will never be able to fill.”

Indeed, the curse does come at an awful price—the life of the Queen’s father. In order to enact the curse, Rumpelstiltskin tells the Queen she must sacrifice “the heart of the thing you love most.” Her father tries to convince her that she can be happy again without the curse, but so desperate is the Evil Queen’s thirst for revenge against Snow White that even as her father embraces her, she stabs and kills him.

And we discover just how cavernous a void has been created by this act when we discover how Henry got his name: it is the name of her father.

Henry and Regina/ABC

In Storybrooke, the Evil Queen has no memory of who she really is—but as Regina Mills, she still carries that void inside her and it’s eating away at her even as she tries desperately to fill it. When we discover the origin of Henry’s name, we realize that Regina adopted and named Henry in an attempt to fill the void that came as a cost for killing the last thing she loved in pursuit of what she thought would make her happiest. She doesn't love Henry; Henry is a means to an end—an attempt to fill the emptiness inside her. What she claims as love is really selfishness, and Henry—along with all the other inhabitants of Storybrooke—is caught in the effects of that emptiness.

Emma and Henry/ABC

But someone is fighting for Henry. In spite of the shame and guilt she is confronted with when she is with him (she gave him up for adoption), Emma Swan wants what is best for Henry; she wants to protect him and make sure he is safe. While she’d rather leave Storybrooke and everything Henry confronts her with behind, she stays. Emma is putting Henry’s best interests above her own—acts of true love.

And here we get at something important about the power of love to thwart and defeat evil. At the root of evil is selfishness—the drive and thirst to satisfy one’s own desires no matter the cost to others. But on this path, the more one grasps at happiness, the faster it slips through one’s fingers. Like the Evil Queen, each act of sacrificing the needs and interests of others for our own only deepens the emptiness.

We can’t gain happiness by putting our desires above the needs of those around us because we aren’t made for selfishness; we are made for love. We were created in the image of Love itself. Above all else, we were made to love—God and each other.

But in this still-broken world we, like the Evil Queen, have an inherent bent and desire towards selfishness. So, like dark curses, love too requires a sacrifice. But where evil sacrifices others on the altar of selfishness, love asks that you sacrifice yourself.

We understand this best when we return to our own Story and to Jesus:

This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son to merely point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again.

It was by the ultimate act of Love by Jesus that our own curse was lifted. Jesus is leading us back to the Garden, to the beginning, to the way it was always intended to be. Even now we can catch the scents of those wide open spaces, filling us with the power to live again in love and grace.

This kind of life, Jesus says, requires a sacrifice:

Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat; I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to saving yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you? What could you ever trade your soul for?

But unlike sacrifices of evil curses that leave a void within that can never be filled, this sacrifice fills whatever voids we carry—and then some. For when we live in the Love by which we are loved we discover it is a flood that spills out on to the world around us to right wrongs, restore and free others to live again as the people we were created to be.

It will be interesting to watch how the Queen’s curse is lifted in Storybrooke and the world of the enchanted forest folk set right and restored. In the meantime, I appreciate Once Upon a Time's exploration of evil, good and how the thing you love most determines which of those paths you walk. All of this is helping me understand our own Story better—and bringing God-talk into these open spaces.

Good stories that begin “Once Upon A Time”

2011-10-25T15:14:00.010-04:00

NBC

There was an enchanted forest filled with all

the classic characters we know.

Or think we know.

One day they found themselves trapped in a place

where all their happy endings were stolen.

Our world.

This is how it happened...

~Prologue, ABC's Once Upon A Time

It turns out all those fairy tales are true—Geppetto’s wooden boy became Pinochio, Granny and Red Riding Hood live, and Prince Charming really did thwart the plans of the Evil Queen, kiss from death Snow White, and marry her on their way to happily ever after.

But that’s not the end.

In ABC’s Once Upon A Time, the Evil Queen has her revenge on the day of the birth of Snow White and Prince Charming’s daughter, bringing upon them a curse that rips all of the inhabitants from the enchanted forest to “someplace horrible” where all their memories and happy endings will be ripped from them and they will suffer eternally: our world.

I was hooked before the last words of the prologue faded from my television—and by the end of the pilot I was sold. Not only is this story enchanting and well done, but I also love how it echoes some profound truths about stories in general and our own Story in particular.

Happy endings lost to a broken world—a powerful echo of the biblical Story. In the beginning—once upon the moments time began—we were created for a happy ending. The world and we ourselves were created good and abundant, breathed into being with love. But then something ripped through that world—a terrible curse, worse-than-a-mortal disease that infects everyone in it. Ours became a world where our happy ending was thwarted by death itself.

But, like Once Upon a Time, the Story doesn’t end there.

In Once Upon A Time, the Queen’s evil intentions are thwarted by a prophecy that the child of Snow White and Prince Charming will return and save them all when she reaches the age of 28. That child is Emma, whom the couple saves from the curse by placing her as a baby in a magic cupboard which whisks her to our world and away from the clutches of the Evil Queen. Twenty eight years later, we meet Emma in Boston, where she’s a bail bondsman and bounty hunter celebrating her birthday by herself--and with no idea where she came from or who she really is. There’s a knock at the door and it’s Henry, a 10 year-old boy from Storybrooke, Maine—and Emma’s son whom she placed up for adoption when he was born. He convinces her to come back with him to Storybrooke and along the way reveals a book of fairy tales which he claims is true—and in which, he says, she is also a character. She is destined to save them from the curse and clutches of the Evil Queen.

I can’t help but appreciate how this echoes our own Story. A child is born—Jesus—who saves us all, defeats the curse, releases us from the clutches of death itself, restores us to the relationships we were created for and carries our Story towards the happy ending we were always intended for.

But like Emma has a hard time believing Henry’s story, our own Story can be hard to believe, too. Why? One reason is, like Snow White and her fellow enchanted forest residents, we forget who we are.

After arriving in Storybrooke, Emma meets a resident who is Henry’s psychologist—and a famous character from one of the fairy tales:

NBC

Emma: He doesn’t seem cursed to me. He’s just trying to help you.

Henry: He’s the one who needs help because he doesn’t know.

Emma (skeptical): That he’s a fairy tale character.

Henry: None of them do—they don’t remember who they are.

Henry wants to free the townsfolk from their curse; he wants them to remember who they are, who they were born to be and the happy endings they were destined for. We too need to be reminded of those things—and one of the best ways to remember is through stories, both the Story and those crafted by those around us.

As I’ve mentioned before, good stories explore what it means to be human and live in this world. They get at who we are and why we do the things we do. They take us down the roads those choices lead. They tell us something about ourselves, the world we live in, the people we walk with and those with whom we cross paths.

And the best stories are true—not that they actually happened but in that they reflect human nature and the way the world works in reality.

And if a story is true it ultimately reveals something about God. A good story doesn’t need to be told by someone who walks with God in order to reflect him and his truth. As Paul puts it, God has made himself known to all people: “But the basic reality of God is plain enough. Open your eyes and there it is! By taking a long and thoughtful look at what God has created, people have always been able to see what their eyes as such can't see: eternal power, for instance, and the mystery of his divine being. . ." (Romans 1:20 Message). Paul puts this concept into action "in the open spaces" of Mars Hill (Acts 17), when he talks with a group of philosophers and thinkers and uses bits and pieces of religions, literature and stories they are familiar with that reflect truth and, ultimately, God. God is all around us, he tells them: "He doesn't play hide-and-seek with us. He's not remote; he's near. We live and move in him, can't get away from him!" (Acts 17: 28Message) If that's true, it would make sense that our stories—especially our good ones—would reflect him and our own Story.

And stories like these do a powerful thing—something Sister Mary Margaret Blanchard (a Storybrooke school teacher who’s forgotten she is Snow White) gets at pretty distinctly when she tells Emma why she was the one to give Henry the fairy tale book:

NBC

Emma: How’s the book supposed to help?

Mary Margaret: What do you think stories are for? These stories, they’re classics—there’s a reason we all know them. They’re a way for us to deal with our world. It doesn’t always make sense…. Look, I gave the book to him because I wanted Henry to have the most important thing anyone can have.

She pauses and Emma looks at her questioningly.

Mary Margaret: Hope. Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.

Good stories remind us of who we are, how the world really works—and that there is a happy ending. In a sometimes dark, treacherous and painful world full of loss, loneliness and death, happy endings can seem impossible. But good stories can remind us that our Story is destined for a happy ending. And that gives us the best hope of all.

A "Grimm" look at the world around us

2011-10-20T11:17:00.002-04:00

NBC

"This is no fairy tale. The stories are real. What they wrote about really happened."

~ Aunt Marie (Kate Burton), revealing to nephew Nick Burkhardt (David Giuntoli) that he is one of the last of the Grimms, who are able to see creatures that no one else can and who's ancestors chronicled their existence in the famous fairy tales.

I adore stories that mix the modern with myth and explore the idea that there is a fantastical world about us full of beings and powers that exist in rich layers just out of sight—and how once a character encounters that, they are changed and never see the world the same again. It echoes a deeper truth we find in Scripture about those rich, full, dangerous and magnificent layers of the reality around us. Like the characters in these stories, encountering that changes the way we see the world and the choices we make.

So, you can see why the above scene a few minutes into the pilot episode of NBC’s Grimm snagged me. The question is, can the series overcome its flaws and flesh out its strengths?

Grimm is the latest in a long line of stories on both the big and small screens that have taken on this idea of a fantastical and often ancient world amidst the modern—among some of my favorites including Lost, Hellboy, Spiderwick Chronicles, Haven, Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Speaking of latter two, I would have loved to see what Joss Whedon would have done with a premise like Grimm’s—but alas, it is not Whedon at the helm.

NBC

And so we get to the weaknesses in pilot. Unfortunately, the strongest actors and characters are either on their deathbed like Kate Burton’s Aunt Marie or in supporting roles, particularly Nick Burkhardt’s detective partner Hank (Russell Hornsby) and Captain Renard (Sasha Roiz, who was fabulous in Caprica). I couldn’t help but wish that Hornsby or Roiz were playing Burkhardt's role instead of David Giuntoli, who played the police detective like a deer caught in headlights most of the way through the pilot. (Granted, that might be the fault of the writers who crafted the character, but if so, that’s not a good thing either.) Burkhardt has no depth and, quite frankly, he’s uninteresting. This man who lost his parents at 12 years old shows no evidence of having suffered at all; he is without wounds or brokenness. Truth be told, I think a wounded but good man would make a more interesting character here than this cardboard cop-with-a-heart-of-gold. (And you’re telling me that this guy had no clue something’s up or wrong with the world having grown up with an aunt like Marie!? Right.)

On the other hand, however, I loved the refresh of fairy tales—and the dark grimness of them. The villain is creepy and disturbing. And if the pilot is any indication, the twists on and deconstruction of the old tales have the potential to make some of their meanings and themes relevant to the present—which would definitely bring God-talk into these open spaces. In addition, the pilot had a slight hint of an Army of Darkness flavor and humor, probably supplied by reformed “big bad wolf” creature Monroe (Silas Weir Mitchell), who reminded me just a bit of Bruce Campbell in this role.

So, there’s definitely some potential here. Whether or not that potential will be realized is yet to be seen.

If you weren't one of the Twitter followers who's seen the pilot online, you can catch the Grimm premiere on October 28.

Another day at the Maryland Renaissance Festival

2011-09-25T10:45:00.001-04:00

Enter another world through the looking glass...
(photo: mine)

Last year was our first visit to the Maryland Renaissance Festival in Annapolis, and we enjoyed it enough to return again this year. The Festival runs annually on weekends in August through October and recreates an "English Tudor village" full of shops, food, stage entertainment and events (like caber tossing and jousting) on about 25 acres of hilly wooded area. According to the Festival's site, it has "more than 1,300 participants and 280,000 guests per season."

Because we'd been before, this year was less about trying to see it all and more about enjoying the things we enjoyed last year and catching a few things we hadn't before. Like last year, I particularly enjoyed the folks who dressed for the event:

a highlander with his cell phone
(photo: mine)

revelry and fun
(photo: mine)

folks carried around mugs and steins to enjoy the various brews
(photo: mine)

these girls sat behind us during the jousting exhibition
(photo: mine)

We watched a jousting match again:

Jousting
(photo: mine)

And we caught a caber toss competition for the first time. (Basically, the contestants lift a 100-150 pound log, run with it to build momentum, then toss it into the air so that it flips over and lands with the bottom end away from the tosser and the top end facing him. Quite a display of strength.)

Caber tossing
(photo: mine)

Like last year, the atmosphere was fairly family friendly and folks were affable and courteous. So, chances are you'll see another post about it next year around this time.

marionettes outside one of the shops
(photo: mine)

a clown on stilts
(photo: mine)

'Revenge' has me hooked

2011-09-23T12:58:00.001-04:00

ABC

I read a lot of books in high school, but The Count of Monte Cristo is one of the ones I remember well. I don’t know why it sticks with me, but it does. I even remember the white-haired bespectacled English teacher handing out the paperback version to us in class. Now, if you asked me to give you a detailed plot summary of the novel’s twists and turns, I wouldn’t be able to—and I doubt I could’ve as a teenager either. But I do remember the story—the delicious intrigue, the tenterhooks (though sometimes long-winded) plotting, the costs of both revenge and forgiveness, the need and desire for justice, the handsome Count and his weasely enemies.

Perhaps that explains why ABC’s Revenge has—much to my own surprise—gotten its hooks into me. The series touts itself as a modern reimagining of Dumas’ classic, with Emily Thorne (Emily VanCamp) assuming the role of Dantes and Victoria Grayson (Madeleine Stowe) as the malicious force behind the traitors who framed Emily’s father for a horrible crime he didn’t commit. As a result of Victoria’s treachery, Emily (whose real name is Amanda Clarke) was physically dragged away from her father into a life in foster care and juvenile centers. It isn’t until she’s released at 18 that she finds out her father, who died in prison, has left her a letter explaining everything along with a vast fortune—which she uses to create a new identity and plot her revenge.

ABC

Critics have responded pretty well—and I concur. The pilot was well-paced, beautifully shot and stacked with some solid and intriguing characters—particularly Emily/Amanda, Victoria Grayson, and Nolan Ross (from whom Emily’s fortune came after her father invested in his now extremely successful company). Also, Revenge has an attractive, almost medieval or monarchial feel to it, with “Queen” Victoria and her machinational maneuvering to keep her Hamptons court under her power and control. In some ways, it reminds me a bit of Kings, the short-lived NBC series that reimagined the biblical story of King David.

In the midst of all this, what intrigues me most about Revenge is its self-named front-burner theme. From the very first commercial, I wanted to know if and how the series would deal with the costs of revenge, especially on the one who takes it. Learning that it claims roots in Dumas’ novel gives me hope that it will—and that will bring God-talk into these open spaces.

The biggest question at this point—and one my husband asked immediately as the pilot ended—is whether the series can maintain its captivating story. I, for one, will be tuning in next week to find out.

David & 'Goliath' coming to a big screen near you

2011-08-31T09:15:00.007-04:00

“Should this be true, I assume that they will probably use digital effects to make The Rock even bigger (some manuscripts have the giant standing at almost 10 feet tall), but I think that [Taylor] Lautner isn’t right for this part. While he’s only 5’10”, which puts him in the average category with American men, the big problem is that his six pack abs are his most famous feature. The whole point of the David and Goliath story is to pit the weak against the strong, and they pick a young actor who spends 90% of his time shirtless on screen? I understand it’s a ploy to draw in the Twilight crowd, but they should at least be trying to respect the story a little.” ~CinemaBlend

Osmar Schindler (1869-1927): David und Goliath, 1888

News came yesterday that Dwayne Johnson is in talks to star as the giant Philistine in Scott Derrickson’s Goliath, which will bring the epic biblical tale to the big screen (maybe 300-style). David is one of the most intriguing and larger-than-life characters in scripture. He was the subject of Kings, a short-lived but very interesting television series staring Ian McShane as Saul and Chris Egon as David that retold the story in a modern fictional kingdom. I’ve long thought a serious take on David's story would be a fascinating one for the modern big screen.

What’s also intriguing (and, yes, even entertaining) about biblical stories getting the small or big screen treatment are the articles that start to crop up around it—like CinemaBlend’s above. While they reference “manuscript” research on Goliath, they seemed to have skipped the parts about David, which describe him as “the very picture of health— bright-eyed, good-looking” and who, when facing a lion or bear in the course of guarding his father’s sheep, would “grab it by the throat, wring its neck, and kill it.” Doesn't sound like a wimp to me.

But who can blame ‘em? For far too many of us, our knowledge of biblical stories—especially the ones in the Old Testament—comes from what we remember from Sunday School, where they are often watered down to a rated G status. The price of that is losing important aspects of the stories (like the fact that David wasn’t a pudgy little boy but robust and accustomed to violence). If we spend any time at all in the original stories, we begin to discover rich, multifaceted and deeply engaging stories fraught with complexity and adult themes and situations (which often reflect a PG rating at the very least, if not rated R). They make us wrestle with hard questions—which is what all good stories do.

So I, for one, am eager to see what Derrickson can bring to the table on this one. Given his background, I’m thinking he’ll respect the original story instead of the one we remember from Sunday School. And that will be worth seeing.

Update: Then again, maybe not, heh. Here's a summary of the film from /Films:

The story is set in motion when the fierce warrior Goliath is sent to track down a foretold king of the Israelites. A young shepherd David is thrust into an epic chase and adventure fighting for his own life, the lives of his loved ones and eventually the lives of his people. The story climaxes in a battle of literal Biblical proportions between the young man and the giant sent to destroy him.

Well, that's definitely a twist I've not heard before. But, I must admit, I still find it more interesting than some of the Sunday School versions I've been exposed to, heh.

A Twitter & Facebook timeline: Hurricane Irene

2011-08-28T13:27:00.001-04:00

Well, we survived Hurricane Irene here in the DC Metro with little damage to our neighborhood in the Alexandria area. If you're curious as to what it was like around these parts, here's a selection from the tweets and Facebook posts I made in the last 24 hours or so. If not, feel free to skip this post, heh.

Twitter: faster than earthquakes!

2011-08-27T07:34:00.000-04:00

Heh. For what it's worth, Facebook and Twitter were the only ways I could communicate with friends and family for a little while after the quake as my cell service failed and I couldn't make calls or send texts. We've now added those media forms as our family's fallback for communicating during disasters.

Running from Jim Cantore

2011-08-26T11:46:00.000-04:00

And I just tweeted yesterday how relieved I was that Jim Cantore wasn't anywhere near DC, heh.

Knowing when not to trust yourself--and Who to trust instead

2011-08-24T16:03:00.002-04:00

created at gliffy.com

“The best decision makers are the ones who know when not to trust themselves.” ~Dr. Roy Baumeister

Earlier this week, I read a fascinating article in The New York Times, “Do you suffer from decision fatigue?” The article explores several studies and includes interviews with researchers that conclude “the very act of making decisions depletes our ability to make them well” and then asks: “So how do we navigate a world of endless choice?”

According to the studies and researchers, our willpower weakens as the day goes on, like a tired out muscle—and our ability to make good decisions wanes with it. The more decisions we make, the harder it becomes to make good decisions and the easier it becomes to give into desires that thwart our goals (like eating that candy bar when we are on a diet or sending that e-mail when we know we shouldn’t). In addition, the level of glucose in our bodies also affects our decision making ability—the less glucose, the worse the decisions. This explains why, the article says, dieters have a harder time sticking to their diet if they don’t eat regularly throughout the day or as the day goes on. Or why judges tend to parole offenders in the morning and right after lunch but not similar offenders later in the day.

The article includes some good suggestions to combat decision fatigue. For example, be aware of the symptoms of decision fatigue, like low glucose levels or “the propensity to experience everything more intensely,” causing “[i]mpulses to eat, drink, spend and say stupid things feel more powerful.” Get solid rest, take breaks throughout the day, keep your glucose levels up with protein versus sugar, schedule things (like exercise), avoid fatigue and avoid making important decisions at the end of the day. The “people with the best self-control,” says social psychologist Roy Baumeister:

… are the ones who structure their lives so as to conserve willpower. They don’t schedule endless back-to-back meetings. They avoid temptations like all-you-can-eat buffets, and they establish habits that eliminate the mental effort of making choices. Instead of deciding every morning whether or not to force themselves to exercise, they set up regular appointments to work out with a friend. Instead of counting on willpower to remain robust all day, they conserve it so that it’s available for emergencies and important decisions.

But no matter what we do, say researchers, our willpower will wane throughout the day—and it’s best to be aware of that. As Baumeister concludes at the end of the article, “The best decision makers are the ones who know when not to trust themselves.”

A thought-provoking and informative read—and one that made me think of some deeper truths.

First, I can’t help but notice how the studies reflect the human condition we find laid out in scripture. “I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway,” as Paul puts it in a letter to Roman believers. “My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time.” The studies reflect this; our willpower is broken and it will wane no matter what we do. On the Romans 7 side of Romans 8, there is no fixing it, only treating the flaw to minimize the damage.

I also appreciate how the researcher indicates that there is great wisdom that comes from knowing our shortcomings—and the solutions presented in the article also remind me of the benefit of discipline in our lives. I appreciated how the researchers suggest scheduling your day instead of running through it without a plan; or meeting with a friend for exercise instead of depending on your own willpower. (The Pomodoro Time Management Technique—one I use often—is a good application of their principles.) And when the researcher spoke of the people with the best control developing habits that help them make good decisions, I immediately thought of how Dallas Willard talks about spiritual disciples (like prayer, service, spending time in scripture, helping others, accountability with other believers, etc.) in the context of moving from someone characterized by the thoughts, feelings and habits of a ruined soul to one characterized by the thoughts, feelings, habits, and relationship with the Father that characterized Jesus.

But the power is not in the spiritual disciplines themselves; if so, they’d just be another self-help tool—“a band-aid on sin instead of a deep healing of it,” to borrow Paul’s words in that same letter to the Romans. Instead, spiritual disciplines point to the root of our problem: we can’t overcome our flaws, bent towards selfishness, and propensity towards brokenness on our own willpower. That dilemma is resolved in Jesus, through whom God “personally took on the human condition, entered the disordered mess of struggling humanity in order to set it right once and for all.” God gives us a chance at a new life, one not ruled by broken willpower but by wholeness and life—one where we may, as Paul puts it, “still experience all the limitations of sin” but also “experience life on God's terms”—“a spacious, free life.”

And this is where spiritual disciples come in. As folks like Dallas Willard and Richard Foster put it in the Renovare Spiritual Formation Bible, the disciplines help us cooperate with God in becoming the kind of person who experiences life on God’s terms:

[Spiritual disciples are] the God-ordained means by which each of us in enabled to place the little, individualized power pack we all possess--the human body--before God as 'a living sacrifice' (Rom. 12:1). It is the way we go about training in the spiritual life. By means of this process we become, through time and experience, the kind of persons who naturally and freely express 'love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control' (Gal. 5:22-23). . . .

A Spiritual Discipline is an intentionally directed action by which we do what we can do in order to receive from God the ability (or power) to do what we cannot do by direct effort. . . . The Spiritual Disciplines in and of themselves have no merit whatsoever. They possess no righteousness, contain no rectitude. Their purpose--their only purpose--is to place us before God. After that they have come to the end of their usefulness. But it is enough. Then the grace of God steps in, takes this simple offering of ourselves, and creates out of it the kind of person who embodies the goodness of God . . . .

In the end, the ability to make good decisions means we rely on a will other than our own. God doesn’t simply help us make better decisions or live better lives but changes us into the kind of people who live lives dripping with his fruit—the kind of people, as The Message phrases it, who are “able to marshal and direct our energies wisely.” As we trust and walk with him, we become the kind of people who experience life—a spacious, free life—on God’s terms, the way we were created and now enabled to live.

In the end, to turn a phrase, it could be said that the best decision makers are those who not only know when not to trust themselves but also know Whom to trust as well.

Earthquake hits Washington, D.C.

2011-08-23T15:17:00.003-04:00

mine

Today, the DC Metro region was shaken by 5.8 magnitude quake centered just to the southwest of the Capital. The kids and I were in a parking lot approaching our truck when it started to rock like someone was jumping on it and the ground started to tilt back and forth under our feet. My husband said his third floor office in DC was shaken very intensely. I was in Fresno and felt the San Francisco quake of 1989, but this felt much stronger. But all is well. There are few reports of damage, and the only damage we had were a few knocked over picture frames, a tipped angel and another that lost a few parts when she fell from her comrades.

Wedding photos & aliens & global warming--oh, my!

2011-08-21T20:40:00.000-04:00

Last week I ran across a couple of things that, well, made me grin. Since I've tweeted, Facebooked and GooglePlus'ed them, I figured I might as well post them here, too. Heh.

Julian Sunmi Park and Benjamin Jinsuk Lee

First, click on the photo above to see the best, most creative and, um, unique wedding photos ever. I'm not kidding. Trust me, if you enjoy speculative fiction (with a somewhat darker twist), you won't be disappointed. So go see them. Now. Please.

Henrique Alvim Corrêa/The War of the Worlds

Next, some scientists at NASA and Penn State University released a joint report entitled "Would Contact with Extraterrestrials Benefit or Harm Humanity? A Scenario Analysis"--which, among other things (not so far-fetched), suggests global warming may invite an alien attack in order to save the rest of the universe from we humans. No kidding. Read a synopsis here. Or the whole thing here.

Okay, I'm done. Heh.

TiMER: Lessons in love

2011-08-19T16:00:00.002-04:00

Present Pictures/Capewatch Pitures

Imagine if you had a way to know the exact moment you would meet your soul mate. That’s the premise of TiMER (2009), a light and modern fable-like story (albeit rated R and with some limitations, as both those who panned the film as well as those who liked it point out) that nonetheless echoes some key truths about life.

In TiMER, technology has caught up with love: a device implanted on your wrist counts down the days until you will meet your true love and then goes off when the two of you encounter each other. After 15 years, the device has a 98 percent satisfaction rating, divorce rates have plummeted and it’s generally accepted that the TiMER works. But, for the device to actually start counting down, both parties must have one—and therein lies the plight of about-to-turn-30 Oona (Emma Caufield), whose TiMER is blank. Her plight is accentuated because everyone in her family (including her teenage brother) has met their soul mate or knows when they will (though twenty-something step-sister Steph won’t meet her true love until she is 43). By the time, we meet Oona, she’s known on a first-name basis at the local TiMER store where she brings all the TiMERless guys she dates—and whose newly implanted devices inevitably start counting down immediately while Oona’s still remains blank.

The film takes an age-old plot—looking for love—and gives it a twist: if you could know when you’ll meet your soul mate, how would it change the way you live and the way you treat the people around you? In Oona’s case, her whole life revolves around finding her soul mate. Every TiMERless man could be her potential true love, but when his TiMER doesn’t activate hers, she walks away—until she meets Mikey (John Patrick Amedori), a grocery clerk at a local whose TiMER is already activated (which means Oona is not his true love). He catches on to Oona’s obsession right away:

Present Pictures/Capewatch Pictures

Mikey: I see your TiMER’s blank.

Oona: And?

Mikey: Nothing. You just want your future, though, right? It’s a shame, because you have a much more exciting present if you want it.

When Oona enters into a relationship with Mikey, she starts to care for him and that changes her—and the way she approaches life.

Present Pictures/Capewatch Pictures

If Oona avoids entanglements with guys, Steph (Michelle Borth) tangles with every man she can. Despondent that she won’t meet her soul mate for decades, Steph’s social life is a series of one night stands. Then she meets Dan, a widower who doesn’t have a TiMER because, as he puts it, he’s already met his soul mate and she died. Steph and Dan start to spend time together and Steph begins to genuinely care for him, even though she knows he’s not her soul mate. And that changes her—and Dan, who gets a TiMER because his time with Steph has made him consider there still might be hope for love out there for him.

Disillusioned by how the TiMERs are causing them to live their lives, both women decide to get rid of the devices—but then Oona’s finally goes off and tells her that she’ll meet her soul mate in 24 hours. There are some twists and turns and I won’t tell you how it ends, but this film about romantic love follows through and, with a little thought, reminds us of some greater truths.

While the film confronts in particular how we can disregard and minimize the people and relationships we encounter in the course of seeking our soul mate, we are also invited to more broadly examine how we view and treat people in our lives in general. And TiMER does this against the backdrop of exploring the danger of always focusing on the future versus the value of living in the present.

When we live focused on the future, we not only shortchange ourselves but also the people around us. When our agendas become our sole focus—be they as major as finding a soul mate or succeeding at a career or as minor as getting that to-do list done—we run the risk of turning people round us into obstacles to overcome or pieces to be juggled as we accomplish our goals.
But that’s not how we were created to live or who we are called to be. How we walk this life is more important that whatever destination or goals we make within it. And that makes every encounter and step along the way important. We are called to pay attention as we go, to really see and be with those with whom we cross paths. For it is along the way that we define ourselves by who and how we love.

We are called to live in the present: “And don't be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else,” says Paul. “Where you are right now is God's place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there.” And that means the people we encounter aren’t there to help us pass the time until we find our soul mate or accomplish the goal we’re focusing on. Our relationships matter—and how we see and interact with each other matters. The choices we make to love—be they romantic, familial, friendships or on-the-way encounters—change us. Dan tells Steph that it was because of her that he decided to take a chance on love again. Oona’s relationship with Mikey helped her to deepen as a person, facing down her fears and shortcomings. It is in loving that we learn how to love best. And how we react to relationships that don’t turn out the way we’d hope change us, too.

The film rather simply summarizes this into, as Oona’s dad puts it, “lessons” we must learn to love more fully. There is some truth in that. Every encounter we have is a chance to learn to love better and more fully. In the truest sense, love is putting the best interests of others ahead of our own, and while there is not so much of that in this film, it does invite us down that path in its reflection of the reality that the people around us are important and dear. “You can't go wrong when you love others,” says Paul. “When you add up everything in the law code, the sum total is love.” Later, he reiterates: “For everything we know about God's Word is summed up in a single sentence: Love others as you love yourself. That's an act of true freedom.”

While TiMER is a rather light romantic fable, it calls us to remember some important truths. Far too often, we are so focused on where we are going that we ignore where we are—and the people we are with. Stories like this call us back to paying attention, back to life as process rather than agenda. They call us back to living in the present, and ultimately, to who we are called to be: those who love as we are loved.

Food for thought: Wonder

2011-08-17T16:17:00.000-04:00

via GoodReads

It's not easy to convey a sense of wonder, let alone resurrection wonder, to another. It's the very nature of wonder to catch us off guard, to circumvent expectations and assumptions. Wonder can't be packaged, and it can't be worked up. It requires some sense of being there and some sense of engagement.

~Eugene Peterson, Living the Resurrection: The Risen Christ in Everyday Life

TV Snapshot: Getting to the "Roots" of our troubles

2011-08-16T15:30:00.001-04:00

Michael Tompkins/Syfy

In SyFy's Haven, “the troubles” abound. A wide range of “supernatural afflictions” and abilities that have laid dormant in the small town’s population for decades—including things like moods influencing weather, bringing stories to life, and the inability to feel pain or physical sensation—are surfacing again. Alongside the town’s acting sheriff (who himself is afflicted by a “trouble”), FBI Agent Audrey Park helps to uncover the troubles and works with the townspeople to confront and overcome them—even as she searches for the truth behind her own mysterious connection to the small Maine town. In last Friday's “Roots,” Audrey ‘s date with town resident Chris Brody is interrupted by another appearance of the troubles: tree roots are attacking people during preparations for a wedding between a bride and groom from feuding families. While somewhat heavy handed, the episode provides a good image that helps us understand the nature of anger and hate—and the power of love to overcome them.

The episode culminates when Audrey, Chris and both families are trapped by the roots in a remote barn. As Audrey investigates, she discovers that the roots attack and grow stronger every time one of the members of the two families gets angry and express their hatred. Each of the families blames the other for the attacks, and neither believes they themselves have anything to do with it. Then Audrey uncovers that the same troubles flared 50 years before, when a member of each family—both of whom are now trapped in the barn with everyone else—fell in love and planned to elope; but the brothers of the bride’s family attacked the other and the roots came out of the forest and attacked them all, killing the youngest brother of the bride. The surviving brother lies and tells his sister that her fiancé was responsible for the death, feeding the feud between the two families. When Audrey helps the families reveal the truth of the past, both begin to realize their culpability: the roots feeds on their shared anger and hate. Relationships mend and reconcile and the roots begin to retreat as the families walk out of the barn two-by-two.

The attacking roots are a helpful organic image that reveals some important aspects of how anger and hate can stalk, trap and destroy not only the people harboring those emotions but also the people around them.

First, the roots echoe how anger and hate are much larger and more menacing forces than we often realize. They aren’t simply limited to damaging the people who harbor those emotions and those they direct their anger and hatred towards; it affects entire communities. And innocent people get caught in the crossfire—as this episode demonstrates when a caterer with no connection to the family get dragged off into the woods by the roots when she tried to flee.

I also appreciated how the roots attack the family members without discretion; they all are responsible for the trouble and their harbored anger and hate can rebound and turn on them at anytime. This echoes a biblical truth: “Anger boomerangs,” says the sage in Ecclesiastes. “You can spot a fool by the lumps on his head.” Or as it plays out in Haven, by the lacerations and wounds on the family members who were attacked by the roots.

This episode also reveals that while troubles resulting from hate and anger seem to be attacking us from the outside, they are often rooted within us. Our first instinct is to blame those at whom our anger and hate are directed for these afflictions. As Elihu puts it, angry people “pile grievance upon grievance, always blaming others for their troubles.” But the troubles, as this episode reveals, are literally rooted in us—and to end those troubles we must start with ourselves.

That’s what helps Audrey stop the attacking roots. When Chris—a scientist and himself afflicted by a trouble—wants to solve their situation by attacking the tree roots themselves, Audrey sets him straight:

Chris: What we need are chainsaws, heavy equipment, maybe some industrial weed killer—”

Audrey: You think the problem is plants? No, the problems in Haven, they come from people.

Chris: I understand this town has a lot of human aberrations—I am one. But if you want to understand them, you don’t hold their hands; you observe what they do. That’s science, that’s how you learn.

Audrey: So, you think they’re a science project? Like me, because I’m immune to you?

Chris: Come on, don’t make this about you.

Audrey: No, I’m not making this about me, okay. I just wanted you to help that poor girl.

Chris: And I am—by trying to find something we can use to get out of here!

Audrey: It’s not something—it’s someone. Alright? In Haven, it’s always someone. That’s how we’re gonna get out of here.

After Audrey realizes the roots attack when the families express their hatred towards each other, Chris tweaks a scientific principle and suggests a way to neutralize the roots that is more along the terms Audrey is pursuing: “Love is the answer,” he tells her. Audrey latches onto this idea and approaches the estranged couple at the root of the problem. By approaching the troubles as rooted in the people—the “someones”—Audrey is able to get at the real problem and facilitate reconciliation and overcome “the trouble.” At the end of the episode, Cody recognizes how remarkable her actions are: “You got two people who’ve hated each other for over 50 years to fall in love again today. I’d say that’s pretty amazing.”

Anger and hatred are dangerous and deadly. “Anyone who hates a brother or sister,” says John, “is a murderer.” In this episode, that is put into literal terms: the two families don’t kill by their own hands but with their uncontrolled anger and hatred. This episode helps us understand how anger and hatred inflict a damage on others and ourselves as deadly as lethal force.

But it also demonstrates the power of truth and love to overcome those deadly forces. Audrey has developed a genuine care for the people of Haven. She understands that the troubles are often not understood by those who are afflicted with them. She helps those afflicted to acknowledge, understand and master their troubles—often at risk to herself. In other words, she actively loves the people of Haven.

And, ultimately, that challenges us to remember how we are called to approach those around us and get to the root of our troubles: not with anger or judgment but with compassion, truth and love.

'Footloose' remake releases another trailer.

2011-08-12T16:44:00.001-04:00

I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. I watched. So, does this look to anyone else like an update versus a remake? So many scenes look exactly the same. Though the dancing is, um, a little more, um, you know.

More news on 'Riddick'

2011-08-11T17:51:00.006-04:00

Concept art for Riddick via Movie Moron

Moviehole has posted some news (including that casting has begun) on Riddick, the third installment in the science fiction film series about our anti-hero (Vin Diesel) that began with Pitch Black and continued with Chronicles of Riddick. We get more information on characters and plot, which reveals much of the film will likely take place on a hostile world with dangerous critters and equally dangerous mercenaries bent on hunting down Riddick. If that sounds somewhat reminiscent of the first film, Moviehole confirms that this is on purpose: "... Riddick is a direct sequel to Pitch Black – the events tie into that film. In much the same way the upcoming Dark Knight Rises will tie up any loose threads and plot points from Batman Begins, Riddick will return to the mystery and monsters at the centre of Pitch Black.” Interestingly, there seems very little reference to or presence of the events and implications of the second film, though who knows at this point if that is how it will play out as the film develops.

Riddick cuts a ruthless and violent figure (the first film is rated R) and doesn't seem a likely candidate for a God-talk blog. But his story has brought some good God-talk into these open spaces, so it is with some interest I'll keep following the development of this next installment featuring this prophesied Furian who is destined to deliver the universe from evil and save us all.

Hat tip to /Film. You can read my reflections on the first two films here and here.

HBO to offer series exploring the Rapture. Yes, that Rapture.

2011-08-10T23:43:00.001-04:00

According to Variety, HBO is teaming with Tom Perrotta (author of the acclaimed Little Children) to develop a series based on Perrotta's upcoming novel The Leftovers (due August 30) that "explores the Rapture and how the sudden disappearance of loved ones in a suburban town affects everyone left behind."

By now, you may be somewhere between rolling your eyes at the possibility of another Left Behind or you are piqued by that very idea. But you should know this novel doesn’t sound much like the LaHaye/Jenkins franchise. According to Publisher’s Weekly, the novel is riddled with grief that “focuses on four members of a family that survives a world-shattering event in which people randomly disappear, dividing the world into Before and After.” The event is treated as “secular” rather than religious, though the story itself “charts the spiritual journeys that two members of the family begin after the traumatic event.” In another PW review, one of those journeys takes place in the context of “the Guilty Remnant, a cult that still believes the end of the world is nigh” and the other “under the sway of a charlatan religious healer” resulting in “a cruel disillusionment.”

And now you may again be somewhere between that eye-rolling or pique. As for me, I’m curious. And I’d be interested to know of other reviews as they pop up—drop a link in the comments if you run across one.

Huge hat tip on this one to film critic and guru Peter Chattaway.

Looking back at 'The Mummy Returns'

2011-07-29T20:20:00.000-04:00

Ken Morefield at 1More Film Blog just posted my guest review of The Mummy Returns (2001), one in a series he's put together looking back at films from 2001. This was a fun review, heh:

Ten years ago, Ken called The Mummy Returns the worst movie of 2001. A decade later, he went looking for someone to stand up for the Stephen Sommers franchise. Carmen Andres answers the bell:

The Mummy (1999) is one of my favorite films of all time. I am, as Roger Ebert puts it in his review, “cheered by nearly every minute of it:”
I cannot argue for the script, the direction, the acting or even the mummy, but I can say that I was not bored and sometimes I was unreasonably pleased. There is a little immaturity stuck away in the crannies of even the most judicious of us, and we should treasure it.
Indeed, I treasured The Mummy so much I bought the original film poster, which now hangs on a wall sandwiched between The Fellowship of the Ring and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.

So, you can understand why I was one of the first in line two years later to see The Mummy Returns (2001). ...

You can read the rest at Ken Morefield's blog.

Concept art for 'Paradise Lost'

2011-07-25T11:13:00.001-04:00

via /Film. Legendary Pictures.

I am really looking forward to this project. It is penned by Stuart Hazeldine, who (among other things) rewrote the screenplay for Knowing, a film that brought God-talk into these open spaces (and is the latest addition to my original film poster collection), and recently co-wrote an as-yet-unproduced screenplay called Moses (yes, that Moses). /Film just posted concept art form the film--take a look.

Trailer for the reboot of "The Amazing Spider-Man"

2011-07-20T17:57:00.000-04:00

Why a trailer for comic book movie on a God-talk blog? Because in these stories we often find echoes of our own Story.

Nothing new under the sun

2011-07-18T21:26:00.000-04:00

I realize I am late to the game in just discovering Kirby Ferguson, but I came across his Everything is Remix series this evening after I became somewhat discouraged after reading a tweet that Blade Runner is up for the prequel/sequel treatment. As I was Googling comfort, camaraderie and explanation of my angst, I ran across the second installment of Kirby's series. You know, I feel better now, not because I have come to terms with attempts to recapture classics like The Thing, Total Recall, The Birds--okay, you get the picture--but because I was reminded of the things that separate a mere copy (or a blatant attempt to make money) from a transformation. While there may be nothing new under the sun, there can be such beauty in a transformative "remix". (You can see the other installments at Kirby's web site.)

On 'Hallow' ground

2011-07-15T17:56:00.000-04:00

Warner Bros.

Fourteen years ago, I opened to the first page of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and fell in love with the rich universe J.K. Rowlings created. Since then, I’ve read every novel and seen each film—some of which have brought some good God-talk into these open spaces. This morning—with butterflies in my stomach—I walked into the theater to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, assured by the film’s 98% "fresh" rating at Rotten Tomatoes that this last chapter would be amazing. Indeed, I encountered something powerful—but it wasn’t the film. Or, at least, it wasn’t simply the film itself.

I first became aware of it when the film began: the silence. I can’t remember ever experiencing such an utter stillness in a theater before. And it remained just as powerful and consistent as the film went on—which is the second place I noticed it. Long moments of silence are woven throughout this film itself. And as those moments occurred on screen, I was repeatedly struck by how everyone around me was still. No one moved. All was hushed. (And something that made the silence so much more palpable was an older child who would cry out or clap his hands in the midst of some of those moments. It was apparent to everyone that he couldn’t control his actions and his sounds were involuntary—and not once did I hear anyone utter a complaint or ask him to be quiet, another new experience for me.)

This silence was, I think, a kind of reverence.

And, if you think about it, perhaps that’s appropriate. After all, the story we’ve watched over the years, and this final chapter in particular, echoes some powerful divine and profound truths in our own Story. Like this world is broken, evil seeks to do us in, and death stalks us all—but none of us, even in dark shadow of death, is alone. And it is not the dead we should pity but the living, especially those who don’t know love. For this life is just the beginning and, faster than falling asleep, we will go oh-so-much further on.

And, best of all—yes, best of all—love wins.

Thank you, Ms. Rowlings, for giving us such a story. And thank you, Mr. Yates, for giving us such a reverent final chapter.

TV Snapshot: Community, meals and transformation under "Falling Skies"

2011-07-10T16:11:00.002-04:00

TNT

At the end of the “Grace” episode of TNT’s apocalyptic alien invasion series Falling Skies, a group of the survivors meet together to eat in the cafeteria of the high school in which they are taking refuge. Tom Mason, his son Hal and friend Dai have just gotten back from a harrowing and disconcerting mission during which they encountered children, captured and controlled by the aliens, who fired upon them—but a mission that nonetheless netted them some much needed motorcycles which will help them in rescuing another of Tom’s sons from the aliens. Captain Weaver, who is in command of this band of survivors, has just gotten the news of how the aliens are using their own children against them—and that prisoner John Pope escaped. Anne, a pediatrician turned battlefield doctor, sits beside Lourdes, a young woman who was in her first year of med school when the invasion started and now helps Anne with the wounded. Before she eats, Lourdes starts to pray.

Lourdes: Dear God, we thank you for this meal and the safe place we live in. Not everyone is as lucky as we are tonight.

Captain Weaver walks by and stops, skeptical.

Weaver: You really think we’re lucky?

Lourdes: Yeah, I think we can still appreciate what we have in our life. Even now.

Weaver, Hal and Anne exchange glances. Hal sits down next to them.

Hal: I’m thankful for the motorcycles. And the chance we have of bringing back the people we love.

Lourdes looks gratefully at him.

Anne: And I’m grateful that we found each other so we don’t have to go through these times alone.

Hal reaches for the bread. His father, Tom, sits down with them.

Tom: I’m grateful for this bread—even if it did come from Pope.

Tom looks at Dai, who just left the infirmary after being treated for the gun shot wound he received on their mission earlier.

Tom: How bout it Dai? Worth the trip to the chow line?

Dai: Yeah, it was. Dai is high as a freaking kite. And he is loving this bread.

Everyone laughs.

Weaver, sitting at a table nearby, watches them.

Weaver: Dai speaks about himself in the third person now?

Dai: Yes, Dai does.

Anne: Did you get some of that bread, Captain?

Weaver: I will.

Tom pulls a slice off the roll and hands it to Weaver.

He looks it over and takes a bite.

Weaver: Not bad.

Anne looks at Lourdes and covers her hand with her own.

Anne: You should say something again.

Lourdes clears her throat and bows her head. Tom and the rest of the people at the table stop eating and join hands.

Lourdes: Heavenly Father, for everything you’ve given us…

She raises her head and looks around her, smiling.

Lourdes: … and especially for our connection to each other may we be truly thankful. In the name of the Father…

Captain Weaver softly joins her.

Lourdes and Weaver: ... of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Tom: Amen.

As I’ve mentioned before, I am intrigued by stories about a group of strangers who band together to survive an apocalypse or life-threatening peril. Stories like that bring abstract concepts of ethics, faith and morality to the practical and nitty gritty level, raising excellent questions and debate—and God-talk. One of the things that intrigues me most in stories like this is how genuine communities form among such a diverse group of people. Thrown together from a wide variety of backgrounds and beliefs, they somehow form a group of growing, interdependent and authentic relationships where they appreciate and challenge each other for who and what they are, grow to trust and depend on each other, and make decisions in the best of interest of each other and the community as a whole. And this scene gets at one way that fosters that growth.

While there is plenty of good God-talk in this scene—from the prayer itself to how gratefulness moves us from fear and discouragement to peace and hope—I am most intrigued by how all that occurs during a common meal. In Living the Resurrection, Eugene Peterson writes that “ordinary meals are formational:"

The common meal is probably the primary way by which we take care of our physical need for food and our social need for conversation and intimacy and our cultural need to carry on traditions and covey values. The meal—preparation, serving, eating, cleaning up—has always been a microcosm of the intricate realities that combine to make up even the simplest life of men, women and children. Because it is so inclusive (anyone and everyone can be included in the meal) and because it is so comprehensive (taking in the entire range of our existence—physical, social, cultural), the meal provides an endless supply of metaphors for virtually everything we do as human beings. These metaphors nearly always suggest something deeply personal and communal—giving, receiving, knowing and being known (“taste and see that the Lord is good”), accepting and being accepted, bounty and generosity (“land flowing with milk and honey”).

And, says Peterson, “For the Christian, every meal derives from and extends the Eucharistic meal into our daily eating and drinking, tables at which the risen Lord is present as host:”

All the elements of formation-by resurrection are present every time we sit down to a meal and invoke Jesus as host. It’s a wonderful thing, really, that one of the most common actions of our lives is also the setting in which the most profound transactions take place. The fusion of natural and supernatural that we witness and engage in the shape of the liturgy continues—or can continue—at your kitchen table.

The common meal is a rich and mystical landscape in which we can experience transformation—and that is so well illustrated in this scene book-ended with prayer. While not all the participants may be on the same page when it comes to God, Lourdes “invokes Jesus as host." And within this common setting of a meal of shared food and bread, we witness that mysterious transformation from discouragement to hope—not the least of which comes by being reminded that we are not alone but together.

While some may find this scene heavy-handed (and you have a point), it does serve to remind me that the science fiction genre seems to be, for whatever reason, the current story-telling genre that is embracing the exploration and relevance—for better or worse—of faith and the question of God in human experience. While Falling Skies hasn’t yet got the chops and levity of series like Battlestar Galactica when it comes to this theme, I am intrigued by its inclusion in this story. And that is one of the things that keeps me watching (for now).

Film Snapshot: "Big Night"

2011-07-09T17:13:00.001-04:00

Columbia/TriStar

"To eat good food is to be close to God." ~Primo, Big Night

Food movies--is there a better, more soul and spirit full genre? Big Night (1996) is definitely a good choice on that menu. While not as spirit rich as Babette's Feast, it is a strong and full-flavored story of two brothers from Italy struggling to make a success of their small Italian restaurant.

And nestled in this story beset with the tension between the temptations of success and the integrity of the culinary art (and it is, my friends, an amazing and magical art), is a wonderful meal reminiscent of Babette's in which a neighborhood of competitors, friends, lovers, and new acquaintances sit down to a feast that moves their palettes and their hearts. Alas, not all ends well for our brothers, but that scene gives us the hope that life and love will smooth the wounds and hardships that they--like us--must deal with as they go.

(Note: this was cross-posted with A Kind of Love Affair, my food blog)

Food for thought: Shuttle laments

2011-07-08T10:43:00.001-04:00

taken at the Smithsonian Air & Space Museums Steven F. Udvar Hazy Center

"Many lament the shuttle era's end. But that's misplaced sentiment. Lament instead the absence of an era to replace it."

~tweeted by astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson on July 8, 2011, awaiting for the last launch of the Space Shuttle (hat tip @csalafia)

"Field of Dreams" and football. Heh.

2011-07-07T11:17:00.000-04:00

Anyone who knows me knows I am not a fan of football by any stretch, but I do enjoy baseball and I am a fan of one particular film, so I can appreciate this spoof by Funny or Die, heh.

Trailer for Ghibli's "Arrietty"

2011-07-05T10:18:00.000-04:00

The trailer above is for Hayao Miyazaki's Studio Ghibli's version of The Borrowers, the classic children's story by Mary Norton. I have been a long-time fan of Miyazaki and his studio; Ghibli produces good stories--my favorite of which remains My Neighbor Totoro. I'm looking forward to this one, too.

Food for thought: Love

2011-07-04T10:28:00.001-04:00

From a blog post by J.R. Daniel Kirk exploring the story of the Good Samaritan:

"Love is not depicted in any of these stories as demanding that someone enter the people of God, it is depicted as a realization that God’s blessings burst beyond the people of God, enveloping even those who will not place themselves within the space marked off by that God’s rules and people."

TV Snapshot: "Falling Skies" and the stories we live by

2011-06-23T16:20:00.007-04:00

TNT

In TNT's new science-fiction series Falling Skies,Tom Mason (Noah Wyle), a former history professor and second in command of a group of soldiers and civilians fleeing an alien invasion, has been captured by John Pope (Colin Cunningham), a thug who’s seeking more weapons and supplies. In a lull in the action, they have a conversation:

Pope: So, how’s the resistance going?

Mason: Just getting started.

Pope: You honestly believe that?

Mason: I do.

Pope: History buffs as yourself ought to know better.

Mason: I taught the American Revolution. You know how that turned out.

Pope: Yeah, but is that the right—what do you call it?—analogy? Instead of us being the Colonials and the aliens being the Red Coats isn’t it more like we’re the Indians and they’re the never ending tide of humanity coming in from Europe? How’d that work out for the Indians?

Mason: Well, if you don’t see any hope…

A group of humans banding together to survive an overwhelming apocalypse or peril that threatens to wipe them out—a story retold many times in modern television. Stargate Universe. Jericho. Battlestar Galactica. Walking Dead. Caprica. Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. These stories are often driven by acts of courage, love, valor, and sacrifice—but these stories also often display the worst of what we human beings are capable. As critic Maureen Ryan puts it, shows like these tend to beg an “age-old question of speculative fiction: Are human beings their own worst enemies, rather than alien invaders or an alien environment?” And that begs another question: In the face of such horrible acts, what makes the human race worth fighting for or saving? I think we begin to find an answer in that conversation between Mason and Pope.

Indeed, it’s not hard to take Pope’s perspective. We’ve seen it over and over in history—the selfishness, back-stabbing, gluttony for power, the horrible acts of which we humans are capable. It all happens again and again and again. What makes us worth fighting for or saving if we are capable of such acts of horror and destruction?

But, as Mason reminds us, how we respond to disaster and depravity depends on what story we see ourselves living by right now.

Pope sees humanity’s story as a relentless tide of every man for himself, dog eat dog, the strongest survive. Mason, on the other hand, sees the story of humanity as one where good men are capable of triumphing over bad men, a humanity capable of rising above a history marred by horror. And that gives him hope.

And that invites us to ask what we believe—I mean really believe—about how the world works. What story are we living in? Is it, like Pope, every man for himself? Or do we believe there is a larger truth—a good and an evil—that beckons us to act differently? And if we believe that is our larger story, do we believe good triumphs? Because there is a Story where a God loves this species so much that he goes to the greatest lengths to ensure our Story comes to a glorious, breathtaking end. And in that Story, we, in all our capacity for evil and destruction, are worth saving for one reason only: because he loves us. And that—even in the face of the most insidious darknesses of our own creation—gives us the best kind of hope.

This best kind of hope gives us the assurance that, even in the midst of struggle, all shall be well. That, no matter what happens in the middle of the Story, we are worth fighting for and saving—and our Story ends good. That can be overwhelmingly difficult to maintain when witnessing the overwhelming power of suffering and the evil we humans are capable of inflicting on each other. But trusting that Story is true makes all the difference.

Because here’s something key: what story we live by is revealed by how we live right now. It is revealed in how we see and approach others, in the decisions we make and the paths we walk in our daily lives. If like Pope, we believe our larger story is every man for himself, then we will treat others as objects to be bartered and used for our own benefit; in essence, we are creators of horror. If we believe—really believe—God is who he says and can do what he says, then ultimately we will make decisions that reflect the best interest of others; we are co-creators of good. There are, of course, many other stories we tell ourselves in between Pope’s story and the Story, but I am among those who think they all ultimately lead us to one path or the other.

Stories like Falling Skies call us to examine which story we live by—and remind us that how we live now will ultimately determine how we respond to darkness and horror down the road, be it the falling skies of personal sufferings or the wider skies of sufferings we share together. As Ryan points out, Falling Skies isn’t the best television has to offer when it comes to stories like these—for that matter, I’m not sure any series will ever match the bar that Battlestar Galactica set for good stories—but I’m willing to stick with this story for awhile because I need to be reminded of the Story I live in today.

TV Snapshot: Bigger on the inside

2011-05-20T20:05:00.003-04:00

BBC America

In “The Doctor’s Wife,” the matrix of the TARDIS—the Doctor’s “Time And Relative Dimension In Space” time machine and spacecraft disguised as blue police box that is “bigger on the inside”—has been downloaded into a living person named Idris. After the Doctor realizes this, Idris suddenly asks:

Idris: Are all people like this?

Doctor: Like what?

Idris: So much bigger on the inside.

In an episode Charlie Jane Anders calls a “love letter” to the Doctor Who series, this was one of my favorite lines—and touches on one of the aspects of this series that draws me to it. Idris’ comment reflects something the Doctor, a close-to immortal being, exhibits continually: a fascination with and even wonder at the largeness of human emotion, capacity, potential and being—and that’s something that can’t help but make me think of larger truths.

In particular, Idris’ exclamation made me recall C.S. Lewis’ ruminations in The Weight of Glory:

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendours.

I am intrigued by the moments the Doctor exhibits a sense of awe and reverence during his interactions with humans. He seems to rejoice and marvel at the sense of largeness and expanse of life in humans—a life that even though there are instances where it is twisted, as Lewis puts it, towards “immortal horrors,” overall seems made for “everlasting splendours.” Or as the Doctor puts it in his universe, “life will out.”

Indeed, the Doctor echoes the sense of awe and reverence that Lewis writes about for most of the life he encounters. In fact, he seems to reflect something else Lewis says in The Weight of Glory:

All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics.

Life, in the Doctor’s universe and our own, is indeed bigger on the inside.

TV Snapshot: Love

2011-05-17T11:48:00.002-04:00

"Anyway, what's the point of having potential if you're not going to step up when you're really needed?"

~Eli, from series finale ("Gauntlet") of Stargate Universe.

The final episode of the recently cancelled series Stargate Universe was a moving end to the thought-provoking story of the marooned crew of the Destiny. It was so fitting that it is Eli we see in the last shot, a character that has developed and grown to the point where he could step up without regret to sacrifice his own safety and potentially his life for the crew of the Destiny who, in spite of their wide range of differences, has become a true community. Indeed, one of the things that drew me most to this series was its exploration of what it means for a group of diverse people to be a community. Ultimately, it comes down to learning what it means to love. And what is the ultimate act of love? To put the best interest of others above your own: "There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends," says Jesus.

Farewell, Destiny. See you on the other side.

Catching up

2011-05-17T11:30:00.001-04:00

It's been awhile since there's been a post on this blog, but there's a good reason: We bought a house closer to D.C. and have spent the last few months moving ourselves into it and making it our home. While an exhausting, all-consuming and sometimes stressful process (what move isn't?), it has also been somewhat freeing--especially in going through and giving away a bunch of stuff that we had accumlated but don't need or don't use. And while it was sad to leave friends and a space we knew well, we were reminded of the gift and joy of being a family; one of my kids commented how wonderful it is that "we get to take each other with us no matter where we live." Amen.

More additions to my collection

2011-03-17T21:38:00.001-04:00

The latest additions to my original film poster collection. Unfortunately, they haven't made it out of their canisters yet--we are in the midst of a cross-town move to a new home, so they'll have to wait until we reach our new spaces in order to find theirs.

Food for thought: Divine life operating under human conditions

2011-02-26T20:52:00.000-05:00

"...our model is the Jesus, not only of Calvary, but of the workshop, the roads, the crowds, the clamorous demands and surly oppositions, the lack of all peace and privacy, the interruptions. For this, so strangely unlike anything we can attribute to the Divine life in itself, is apparently not only like, but is, the Divine life operating under human conditions."

~C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

'Firefly' back on the small screen

2011-02-13T14:52:00.001-05:00

via Hulu

Attention all Browncoats--and all of you who have no idea what that means: I just saw a commercial on The Science Channel advertising that the science fiction series Firefly will land on their channel on March 6 at 8pm. I'm glad to see the series back on the small screen, and I hope it gains a whole new set of fans. The series is one of my favorite of all time, and it's brought some good God-talk into these open spaces.

'X-Men: First Class' trailer out

2011-02-10T19:26:00.001-05:00

I am a big fan of the X-Men films (and the God-talk they bring into open spaces). I'm also intrigued with projects that go back to explore the beginnings of characters and stories which we already know. This one has me curious, so it'll stay on my radar.

Aronofsky's Noah project

2011-02-05T13:09:00.000-05:00

Aronofsky / Henrichon : Noé
Uploaded by LeLombard. - Watch original web videos.

Just ran across an article from The Film Stage (hat tip to ReelTalker) which announces that the next project of Darren Aronofsky (The Fountain, Black Swan) will be a graphic novel and film about the biblical Noah. The above video contains art associated with the project. Apparantly, knowledge of Aronofsky's project has been around for quite awhile. Anyway, the article quotes Aronofsky's interesting take on Noah as "a dark, complicated character" with a healthy dose of "survivor's guilt." He goes on to describe the story:

...It’s the end of the world and it’s the second most famous ship after the Titanic. So I’m not sure why any studio won’t want to make it…

I think it’s really timely because it’s about environmental apocalypse which is the biggest theme, for me, right now for what’s going on on this planet. So I think it’s got these big, big themes that connect with us. Noah was the first environmentalist. He’s a really interesting character. Hopefully they’ll let me make it.

The idea has me intrigued. I've long felt we've softened Noah's story, probably the result of so often relating to it as a children's story; as a consequence, we fail to confront the darker aspects of the story. It'll be interesting to see what Aronofsky does with that.

You can read more about the project at Bible Films Blog, where Matt Page keeps a running section on films projects about Noah.

CT's Most Redeeming Films of 2010

2011-02-04T10:04:00.000-05:00

Christianity Today has listed its Most Redeeming Films of 2010. I hate to admit, I haven't seen most of them, but of the ones I have seen I highly recommend True Grit as well as Toy Story 3 and Despicable Me (in that order). Hmm. Two out of the three I've seen are kids' flicks. I wonder if that has something to do with the status of my life. Heh.

Another blog

2011-02-03T16:48:00.001-05:00

I have started an additional blog, this one mixing God-talk with another passion of mine: cooking. If you share the same passion, let me know what you think of A Kind of Love Affair. Blessings.

Volkswagen + the Force = Pure Genius

2011-02-02T15:35:00.001-05:00

One of the best commercials I've seen in a long, long time! (Hat tip to Rob Webster.)

Trailer for BBC's "Outcasts"

2011-01-31T10:04:00.001-05:00

It looks like Outcasts--a BBC sci-fi/Western hybrid set in 2040 on a nearby planet settled by a group of “social misfits and criminals” as “the pioneers of a large new settlement” after some sort of nuclear event on earth--will premiere on BBC on February 8 (there's still no word when we folks here in the U.S. will see it on BBC America). The trailer reflects some of the themes that is drawing this blogger to the series, especially the idea of utopias versus dystopias. I loved how the question of whether humans can "live in peace" and "build a better place for our children" is asked with two people pointing guns at each, which begs us to consider that tension. For more on why this blogger is looking forward to this series, go here. (Hat tip to Cybermage)

Remembering why I love literature

2011-01-29T10:20:00.004-05:00

While I am not entirely comfortable with this confession, I must admit I spend much more time these days watching stories on film than I do reading them. I like to say that much of that has to do with the season of my life—a stay-at-home mom who’s a part-time freelancer and volunteers at school, runs a household and is getting that household prepared to move across town into a new home. However, I know other women in my season who consume novels every week, so perhaps I really have no excuse. Anyway, every once in a while I run across a film that reminds why I spent my academic career immersed in the scent and texture of paper-bound literature—and Masterpiece’s Jane Eyre (2006) is one of those creations.

This is one of the best film adaptations I’ve seen of this novel. Granted, it’s been awhile since I’ve read it, but I thought it captured not only the spirit of the novel but also its heroine as I remember. And as I watched this classic story unfold, I was riveted—and reminded that while I find great value in the theological, psychological, social and political sciences, it is stories like Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre that most deeply reveal what it means to be human, why we do what we do and the power of love and redemption. In other words, it reminded me why I fell in love with good stories to begin with.

The film captured well the themes of the novel—especially the power both of being loved and loving others in our own transformation. As in the novel, Rochester is a damaged and suffering man transformed by Jane’s love—a love that is rooted in something deeper than passion or romantic love. And Jane, who suffers greatly, goes from plain to beautiful. I have a sense of dissonance when I see an adaptation that portrays the lead as gorgeous in a role that is straightforwardly described as “plain” in the novel. In this film, however, Ruth Wilson allows the character to be physically plain—but also, before our eyes, transform both inwardly and outwardly into beauty.

And that is directly connected to the God-talk in the novel, in particular the difference between living a life formed by the practice of divine love and forgiveness versus one formed by pure passion or commitment to religion, morality, convention or tradition (the latter of which take up way too much space in the Christian culture today—which makes the novel feel like it is ahead of its time, though I suppose these are struggles we humans have struggled with since that moment in the Garden). Jane’s love is rooted in putting the best interests of another ahead of her own—not in a doormat kind of way, but in a love rooted in something stronger and deeper. This allows her to forgive her aunt’s villainous and inexcusable behavior. And in Rochester’s case, to stay with him even though he is already married would harm not only Jane but Rochester himself. Jane’s decision is a devastating one (and powerfully portrayed in this film), but also one that reflects a love rooted in something deeper than mere passion, morality, religion or tradition; it reflects Love itself.

The film moved me anew as I watched Jane’s choice to love in spite of her suffering, and how that transforms her both inside and out. Even though most of the people who experience Jane’s love do not see the enormity of potential her love provides them, nonetheless Jane herself is changed by her choice to love. And all of that was a profound reminder of how the power of our choice to love in spite of our circumstances witnesses to the inverted nature of God’s kingdom in which, as Donald Kraybill puts it in The Upside Down Kingdom, “the values of service and compassion replace dominance and command” and “greatness isn’t measured by how much power we exercise over others” but “by our willingness to serve.” Power, says Kraybill, isn’t used for self-gain or glory but “to serve and empower others.” Indeed, love is the power that changes everything.

For what it’s worth, after watching this film, I pulled an old copy of the novel off the shelf; it is sitting beside me even now. So, perhaps one of the best things about this film is that it reawakened a longing for the original story—just as that story reawakens a longing for the Author of Love himself.

More freelancing on Isaiah and Mark

2011-01-28T15:56:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned before, I am writing a 13-week series of columns for MWR that correspond with scripture used in an international Bible study plan for NCCC member denominations. This time, the series focuses on “the promises of hope found in the words of the prophet Isaiah and the hope found in Christ, the Suffering Servant.” The first nine columns reflect on texts from Isaiah and the last four come from Mark’s gospel.

I've really enjoyed spending time in these Scriptures--the way Isaiah captures God's grace- and love-full reproach that invites us to once again fall fearlessly into his arms, the reminder that his from-the-beginning plan to give us a way back into the wide open spaces of his Kingdom weaves dramatically through history, and how Jesus wakes us to and gives us that way back. For what it's worth, here are links to the latest of those columns: One who restores, Turn and be saved, Sinners mended, Pay it forward, New state of mind, Let Jesus lead, and Listen to him.

Food for thought: In the light of God himself

2011-01-28T10:54:00.000-05:00

From Dallas Willard's The Divine Conspiracy:

It is noteworthy that when Job finally stood before God he was completely satisfied and at rest, though not a single one of his questions about his sufferings had been answered. His questions were good questions. He did not sin in asking them. But in the light of God himself they were simply pointless. They just drop away and lose their interest.

Another deck gone: A lament for science fiction

2010-12-18T17:36:00.004-05:00

SyFy

On the heels of its cancellation of Caprica, the SyFy Channel just announced it has canceled Stargate Universe. That’s disappointing to me. SGU, a military science fiction series in its second season, has just developed solid feet to stand on—in other words, it was becoming a good story. It is fleshing out its characters and its themes of sacrifice, duty, who we follow and why, the pull between orders and ethics, the good of the many versus the good of the few (or one), what makes us human and what we believe, what it means to live together as a community, and what it means to love—many of which are themes common to the military science fiction genre and all of which are aspects of good stories that bring God-talk into open spaces.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that the series lost support from its network (even one ironically touting itself as one that supports the genre) because a lot of science fiction has historically had a difficult time holding ratings on the small screen (from the original Star Trek to Firefly to Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles to the recently canceled Caprica). As I’ve mentioned before, there seem to be a bunch of factors that go into making a show tank, from a low buzz factor, schedule changes, bad lead-in, and high production costs to the tendency of ongoing story arcs (rather than self-contained one-hour dramas) to wean off viewers –all of which are battles good science fiction stories face these days.

Then there’s the fact that good stories simply make us work harder. They tend to not only entertain but also confront, provoke, poke and make us uncomfortable. In the humble opinion of this blogger, science fiction is one of the most thought-provoking genres out there with the potential to tell good stories—which, among other things, explore what it means to be human. It gets at who we are and why we do the things we do and takes us down the roads those choices lead. It tells us something about ourselves, the reality we live in, the people around us. It invites us to reflect on our lives, provokes us to examine what we believe and why, and helps us think through the issues facing us in our own lives. And, if we are intentional, stories like this have the potential to change the way we approach life, people and the world.

In addition, the genre by its very nature invites and sometimes even forces us to consider things beyond the here and now. It confronts us with the unknown, exploration beyond the comfortable, potential and mystery—things that push us to consider greater truths to our existence.

C.S. Lewis reflects on this idea in his essay “On Science Fiction,” where he likens the genre to a stolen moment on the deck of a ship:

If we were all on board ship and there were trouble among the stewards, I can just conceive their chief spokesman looking with disfavor on anyone who stole away from the fierce debates in the saloon or pantry to take a breather on deck. For up there, he would taste the salt, he would see the vastness of the water, he would remember that the ship had a whither and a whence. He would remember things like fog, storms, and ice. What had seemed, in the hot, lighted rooms down below to be merely the scene for a political crisis, would appear once more as a tiny egg-shell moving rapidly through an immense darkness over an element in which man cannot live. It would not necessarily change his convictions about the rights and wrongs of the dispute down below, but it would probably show them in a new light. It could hardly fail to remind him that the stewards were taking for granted hopes more momentous than that of a rise in pay, and the passengers forgetting dangers more serious than that of having to cook and serve their own meals. Stories of the sort I am describing are like that visit to the deck. They cool us.

Destiny's observation deck (SyFy)

Frankly, many of us don’t want to work that hard when it comes to the stories we watch on the small screen. But I, for one, need those forays onto the deck of those ships. I need to be reminded of larger truths and how to see things in a brighter, larger light. I need to be cooled.

So, I will miss the view from the deck of the Destiny. Farewell, SGU.

Freelancing on Isaiah and Mark

2010-12-09T09:27:00.001-05:00

I realize I haven’t been posting, and part of the reason for that is a freelance assignment I’ve been working on. Periodically, Mennonite Weekly Review graciously offers me the chance to write a 13-week series of columns that correspond with scripture used in an international Bible study plan for NCCC member denominations. This time, the series focuses on “the promises of hope found in the words of the prophet Isaiah and the hope found in Christ, the Suffering Servant.” The first nine columns reflect on texts from Isaiah and the last four come from Mark’s gospel. MWR has already published four of the columns online: Where is hope? (Isaiah 40), The winter spaces (Isaiah 41), Coming of peace (Isaiah 9 & 11, with a focus on Christmas), and Evidence of love (Isaiah 43). I’ve always loved Isaiah, but I’ve grown in appreciation for the prophets gift of poetic and powerful writing. This is quickly becoming one of my favorite series.

Trailer for "Jane Eyre"

2010-11-09T20:40:00.001-05:00

I love the Bronte sisters, and Jane Eyre is one of my favorite novels. I love its themes, especially the power of love to heal our woundedness and truth to set us free. I must admit, I'm looking forward to seeing what this film version does with the story.

Lego versions of the Doctor and other pop culture stuff

2010-11-04T19:25:00.003-04:00

When my son started playing with Legos, it didn't take long for me to realize that plenty of adults play with them too--like Alex Eylar, who created the Lego version of our Doctor above as well as other pop culture figures and scenes from film, television and literature. (You can see them all on his Flickr site.)

Starting to think I might like to try my hand at this, heh.

(Hat tip: Slate.)

Flame throwers and leaf blowers

2010-11-03T20:24:00.000-04:00

Aliens copyrighted by 20th Century Fox, via flixster.com

I know I've used this metaphor before, but today I fancied myself the Private Jenette Vasquez of yard work. Though instead of a flame thrower, I wielded a leaf blower. And instead of toothy and drooling aliens, I slayed moldy leaves.

And, to the tell the truth, 15 minutes into the task, I actually would have preferred the flame thrower.

And the aliens.

Considering zombies, horror and "The Walking Dead"

2010-11-01T13:40:00.002-04:00

AMC

Last night, AMC’s zombie-graphic-novel-adapted-to-the-small-screen version of The Walking Dead premiered. The series was preceded by a ton of press regarding its graphic nature but also its attention to and exploration of deeper themes and thought-provoking human drama—and, at least in its first installment, it lived up to the hype. The series is definitely not for everyone (and most definitely not for children) and I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it through the entire series myself (it really is very graphic in its gore and violence), but I’d be willing to bet this series will be scoring a few Emmys next year.

AMC

The series follows police officer Rick Grimes, who’s wounded in shoot out with some bad guys and wakes from the resulting coma to find the world as he knew it is gone. Dead bodies litter the streets and those bodies with their brains still intact stagger through those streets looking for fresh flesh. Grimes manages to get home only to find that his wife and son have fled to who-knows-where; so, with a little help from Morgan Jones (Jericho’s Lennie James) and his son (whose mom is now one of the walking dead), Grimes gets his bearings, regains his strength and sets off in search of his family.

So, why even consider a zombie flick on a God-talk blog? I must admit, I am not a fan of the genre. I flirted with a few films in my teens but it didn’t take long for my tastes to trend away from the more gory (Halloween, Dawn of the Dead, Friday the 13th) and towards the more psychological (Psycho, The Shining, Poltergist). Even of the latter, however, I can take only in small doses.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the value critics and others find in the genre. Scott Derrickson, a director who is also a professing Christian, puts it this way in an interview with film critic Peter Chattaway at Christianity Today:

In my opinion, the horror genre is a perfect genre for Christians to be involved with. I think the more compelling question is, Why do so many Christians find it odd that a Christian would be working in this genre? To me, this genre deals more overtly with the supernatural than any other genre, it tackles issues of good and evil more than any other genre, it distinguishes and articulates the essence of good and evil better than any other genre, and my feeling is that a lot of Christians are wary of this genre simply because it's unpleasant. The genre is not about making you feel good, it is about making you face your fears. And in my experience, that's something that a lot of Christians don't want to do.

To me, the horror genre is the genre of non-denial. It's about admitting that there is evil in the world, and recognizing that there is evil within us, and that we're not in control, and that the things that we are afraid of must be confronted in order for us to relinquish that fear. And I think that the horror genre serves a great purpose in bolstering our understanding of what is evil and therefore better defining what is good. And of course I'm talking about, really, the potential of the horror genre, because there are a lot of horror films that don't do these things. It is a genre that's full of exploitation, but the better films in the genre certainly accomplish, I think, very noble things.

(You can read more of this interview at Chattaway’s FilmChatBlog.)

I also resonate with what some critics and those involved with The Walking Dead are saying of the series in particular. TV critic Rob Owen notes that writer/director Frank Darabont “brings his humanistic touch to this zombie story that elevates it from a typical us vs. them tale” and how the “search for human connection becomes an overriding theme of 'The Walking Dead' and might even mirror the lack of connections in our zombie-free but disconnected-by-social-media modern world.” Actress Sarah Wayne Callies (who plays Grimes' wife, Lori) remarks, "Leave it to Frank to find a way to find a redemptive, compassionate human spirit in the midst of a story about an undead apocalypse.” And while Entertainment Weekly’s Doc Jensen and Dan Snierson start their recap dialogue with stats that include the number of “brain-splattering, blood-spurting zombie headshots” (which came in at 12 for the premiere, if you’re interested), they also detail the more moving and thought-provoking moments in the episode that push us to consider the deeper themes the story is dealing with, including fractured relationships, compassion, how we face and deal with darkness and horror, and what makes us human—all the things good stories are made of.

AMC

Personally, Grimes’ encounter with Morgan Jones and his young son Duane ushered in some of the more heartbreaking moments I’ve encountered in this genre. When Duane sees the walking corpse of his mother through a window, he breaks into wrenching sobs as his father holds and comforts him. I couldn’t help but wonder if this scene doesn’t reflect the pain children feel when a parent leaves a family fractured (be it through divorce, abuse, abandonment or simply spending too much time investing in a career rather than a family)—and if stories like this aren’t meant to shock us into compassion and even personal conviction for something that we can become numb to if simply by the sheer amount of it we are exposed to.

Stories like this invite us to pay attention to those around us, to examine ourselves and consider the paths we walk, the choices we make and why. They invite us to consider our strengths, gifts and flaws. They provoke us to examine what we believe and why. They help us think through the issues facing us in our own lives and, if we are intentional, they can even change the way we approach life, people and the world—and that brings God-talk into open spaces.

Yet even with its merits, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle the graphic gore and violence in The Walking Dead each week. Like I said, it isn’t for everyone. But even if it isn’t for me, I respect stories like this for what they can tell us about who we are and the world around us—and that’s already bringing God-talk into these open spaces.

A day at the Maryland Renaissance Festival

2010-10-23T20:38:00.000-04:00

Today, my husband and I took the kids to the Maryland Renaissance Festival in Annapolis. It was beautiful weather, wonderfully bad-for-you food (fish and chips, yum), and great entertainment. We got there just in time for a jousting competition--these guys (and gals!) actually go at each other with long wooden sticks upon galloping horses, heh:

Here's a close up the above photo--note the broken tip of the lance against the knight's armor:

Another jousting shot:

Two little girls dressed in renaissance garb:

A wall of wooden shields at a shop where we bought our son a wooden sword:

And "Kathryn Parr" and "Thomas Seymour" who hosted the joust (and yes, I felt very geeky knowing who those two actually were in history, heh):

Compared to the other renaissance festivals we've been to, this one was by far the largest. There were a gazillion shops and eateries, a plethora of folks who dressed the parts, and great entertainment. It was interesting, however, to note the differences between the others we've been to--in particular, one my husband and I went to about 15 years ago in San Francisco. At that one, we saw actual sword fighting exhibitions and browsed shops full of inexpensive and unique trinkets whereas the Maryland festival prohibited weapons of any kind (thus, no sword fighting exhibitions) and most of the shops were pretty pricey. Perhaps it is the difference between two coasts, or maybe just a sign of the times. No matter, we still had a wonderful time and enjoyed the weather, atmosphere and food. A good time had by all!