This movie was thought-provoking.  Reading about it afterward, even moreso.

The Other Side of Heaven is the story of John Groberg (Gorham), a Mormon missionary in the 1950s.  There’s really not much that’s overtly Mormon in the movie — the vast majority of what’s shown and said fits into traditional Christian beliefs.

On a side note, this DVD is a product of Walt Disney Home Entertainment.  One has to wonder how many tens of thousands of RPMs Uncle Walt is hitting in his grave that his name is associated with a film that gives any kind of credit to God.

Shortly before graduating from BYU, Groberg declares his love for Jean Sabin (Hathaway) and asks for her to wait for him while he is on his missionary assignment.  The movie is peppered with letters between the two of them; the letters don’t drive the plot much, but examine the thought processes that each of them is having during Groberg’s time away.

Groberg is sent to the Tongan islands where he ministers for approximately three years.  During a large part of his assignment, he is paired up with a native (Folau) who acts not only as his interpreter (until Groberg learns the language), but also as a fellow worker in ministry.

Anyone with exposure to missionary work (even if it’s just hearing the guy who showed up at your church with a slideshow) will not find much of what Groberg faces to be surprising.  Rather, much of the story lies in the relationships that he builds with the people of the island on which he works.  There are events throughout the movie that drive the story forward — it’s not all character-driven, but there’s not much that’s earth-shattering here.  Still, the movie (and the trials that Groberg faced) is challenging to any Christian who’s up for an iota of self-examination.

What was surprising was the virulence of the reaction to the film.  As is my wont, especially with movies that are based on true stories, I went to teh interwebs and read reviews after viewing the movie.  I expected that there would be criticism from many reviewers, some of which might be deserved, but some of which would simply be in adverse over-reaction to a film about faith.  But the majority of the criticism that I saw wasn’t so much about the occasional hokeyness or seeming over-simplicity of the movie, but a near-anger about the ideals behind it — a reaction for which a word like “knee-jerk” just doesn’t suffice.

Now granted, some of it was just downright stupid.  A couple of writers complained about how Groberg was imposing American/Western values onto the Tongan culture.  If you actually pay any attention to the movie, you will recognize what a laughable accusation this is.  The only scene in which Groberg confronts (in a negative manner) the culture to which he is ministering is when he tells a couple of men that theft, bribery, and fornication are not the “privilege of the higher class”, despite the fact that their culture dictates otherwise.  Further, Groberg’s appeal is to faith, not to some idealism that he brought with him from Idaho.

But some of the other criticism was more thoughtful — though ultimately wrong.  One writer that stood out in particular noted that the movie flies in the face of today’s “moral relativism” (his words), clearly implying that the latter was a good thing.  His thoughts around that were admittedly well-constructed, but all based on that sad misconception.

The whole thing got me to thinking — from where did these violent reactions come?

Granted, moral relativism is rampant in American culture these days.  On my more carnal days, I want to punch someone in the throat if they say “all paths lead to God”, not so much because of the error of the concept as the fact that I’m sick of constantly hearing it.  Or we could go with a tired conservative/Christian phrase and note that the “Hollywood elite” (and even its critics) are probably at the vanguard of such a belief system.  One could even refer to how the enemy blinds the eyes of the unbeliever and attribute even the stupid reactions to this phenomenon.  But all of that just defines the problem.

And, to be sure, there are those who name Christ who have Americanized/Westernized their faith.  On top of that, many of them have romanticized earlier times in our country, as though no sin (or anything else bad, for that matter) occurred in America before 1963.  And so when other Christians try to shake off this baggage and attempt to not preach “another gospel” (which is what adding to the gospel message is really all about), they are soundly criticized — often to the point of the outright denial of their salvation — by the Hugh Beaumont faction of Christianity.  Sadly, such screeching is often very loud and that’s what a lot of unbelievers see Christianity as being.  But I think even this is an over-simplistic analysis of the situation.

I can’t shake the feeling that, as Christians, we’re missing something even broader.  What that is, though, is beyond me.

The operator said, “I’ll be glad to help, dear. What’s the name and room number of the patient?”

The grandmother in her weak, tremulous voice said, “Norma Findlay, Room 302.”

The operator replied, “Let me put you on hold while I check with the nurse’s station for that room.”

After a few minutes, the operator returned to the phone and said, “I have good news. Her nurse just told me that Norma is doing well. Her blood pressure is fine; her blood work just came back normal and her physician, Dr. Cohen, has scheduled her to be discharged tomorrow.”

The grandmother said, “Thank you. That’s wonderful. I was so worried. God bless you for the good news.”

The operator replied, “You’re more than welcome. Is Norma your daughter?”

The grandmother said, “No, I’m Norma Findlay in Room 302. No one tells me squat.”

Those of us who are disinclined to brevity occasionally undergo an experience that can be quite disheartening and painful.  If one is inclined to story-telling, the problem can be even greater.

You have a point and it is well-illustrated by a story.  So you start telling the story.  Then about 2/3 of the way into the story, you realize, “Oh, no. This story is waaaay too long for the point that I’m trying to make.”  But you’ve already burned up the time of your listeners, and you can’t leave them hanging.  So you trudge through the rest of the story, wondering if the listeners are as bored with it as you now are — and knowing that it’s not going to end well, either.  At least they are mercifully spared this latter foreknowledge.

Such is the problem with Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro.  I read it on a recommendation from someone, and I’m glad that I don’t remember who it is, so I can’t be mad at them.

The story is told first-person by a Kathy H.  She is remembering her days at a boarding school and other finishing programs in Britain.  She and her friends are different — they are being prepared for very specific lives.  The nature of this preparation and it’s end intention are slowly revealed throughout the book (I won’t go into the details, as it would be a bit spoiler-ish).

About 2/3 of the way into the book, it becomes pretty clear what those details are.  And it’s obviously a Bad Thing.  But like the listeners in my earlier illustration, the reader of Never Let Me Go is unaware that this isn’t going anywhere — or at least not anywhere that’s worth 304 pages.  In fact, there is a bit of misdirection that seems that it would at least somewhat ameliorate the Bad Thing — but then that turns out to be little more than urban legend.

To be sure, there is some pontificating near the end of the book so that the reader is clear that the Bad Thing is, indeed, a Bad Thing.  And there is even some value to the pontificating, as Ishiguro raises an issue or two that had not occurred to me.  But again, nothing that’s worth 300+ pages.

This is definitely not a plot-driven book (though the misdirection makes you think, temporarily, that it might be becoming one).  This is definitely a character study.  But there’s one problematic issue.  It’s about characters that, in the end, we don’t really care much about.

I read a blog post today. Granted, it’s a bit old. I scanned it when it was fairly new, but some personal issues in recent days brought it back to mind, and I was wondering, “Was it really that vomit-inducing or is my memory given to exaggeration?” (Answer: no exaggeration on this one.)

Now let me be clear. A lot of what was in this post — when it was sticking to facts — was very accurate and true. But the way in which it was presented — and garnished with a healthy dose of the author’s opinion — was enough to cause anyone with any intellectual honesty to throw up in their mouth at least a little.

The post discussed the reasons given for leaving the faith and/or never believing in the first place. These reasons were broken down into three categories, the first of which was claimed (by the post author) to be mostly populated by obviously fake stories. In case we missed that, it is re-iterated a bit later that the author doesn’t believe the person telling the story most of the time. This is followed by highly dismissive language that covers the writer in the event that one of the stories turns out to be true.

This is then followed by a deadly logical refutation of 10 possible reasons (how we got from 3 to 10 is anyone’s guess), complete with Scripture references backing up much of the refutation.

(The sensitive of ear should be warned that I am about to use language that — in a different context — would probably be deemed offensive. But I am using it in a Biblically accurate sense.)

So, if we boil the post down (along with some of the comments that followed), what the author has said is this: “Take that, you damned atheist. And if you don’t buy into the logic I’ve presented, then to hell with you.”

Literally.

But that’s not quite the message that I hear from Jesus. In Mark 9, we see the story of a possessed boy and his father seeking healing for him. Jesus told the father, “If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes.” The father admitted to an incomplete belief (”Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”). And you know what Jesus did? He healed the boy.

In John 20, the disciple Thomas stated unequivocally that he would not believe that Jesus was risen unless he had visual and tactile evidence. And so, the next time they were together, Jesus accommodated him. And He did not rebuke Thomas for his lack of faith.

I’ve yet to meet a hurting person for whom logic was the answer. Yes, it can certainly be a tool to help that person see the truth. But it’s certainly not the answer.   Jesus is the answer.

I am genuinely happy for the author that he has not faced adversity that was significant enough to shake his faith to the core. And I genuinely hope that God doesn’t deem such adversity necessary in the future to build the author’s sanctification.

But, for the rest of us, there’s grace.

… our boy decides that his dad could help him escape his pigpen lifestyle, but he doesn’t want to deal with the full implications of his stupidity. So he creates a plan for apologizing to his father, whom he (rightly) assumes will be angry. That plan includes negotiating the son’s new role in the family — that of servant. He will live out back and be useful, but he won’t be a son any longer.

His plan should sound familiar to all of us, since it is the religious answer to our problem as human beings. It seems like the perfect solution, since it’s our idea. But it’s never God’s idea, since he’s not into religion.

Religion is our negotiation with God to try to get his help in exchange for our good behavior. We promise to do what we’re told, and we expect God to reward us. This is a straightforward business arrangement, and we fully expect it to work. Meanwhile, we talk about being God’s child as if we’re family. But in our performance-for-reward arrangement, things don’t operate on grace. Under the rules of religion, God is kept at arm’s length and is expected to be involved only to the degree that he gives us what we think we deserve.

Um. Wow.

To be honest, until yesterday, I had always seen the prodigal’s plan as misguided (especially since I knew the ending of the story), but well-meaning. In retrospect, the latter is incredibly untrue.

In Yiddish, it’s chutzpah.

In the Old Testament, it’s filthy rags.

In the New Testament, it’s skubala.

In plain English, it’s pride, arrogance, stupidity, and pure crap.

When am I going to learn what grace is really about?

Very powerful stuff, IMHO.

One ancillary statement that Matt Chandler made, though, stuck out to me because of prior statements that I’ve read. Several pastors/teachers have been repeatedly thrown under the bus by ODMs* and their ilk because they chose to speak at conferences or churches where the other speakers didn’t agree with them theologically — sometimes with significant differences.

The “unequally yoked” phrase from 2 Corinthians 6:14 gets hideously misappropriated and gross exaggerations like “partnering in ministry” get bandied about. Not surprisingly (and I say this with regret, because I are one), a lot of such silliness comes from those that would consider themselves to be of the Reformed community. I point that out because Chandler is a Reformed guy and this was at T4G, which was lousy with Reformed guys. So when he talked about the issue, this was not two hyper-Pelagians discussing it over a beer.

The embedded video below (in case you haven’t listened to the whole message yet — you heathen) kicks in at the start of the statement that’s relevant to this post. As background, he’s talking about the vision that he had for his church when he first started pastoring. The statement runs for about 1 minute, 25 seconds (you can quit listening when he says “I’ll be working”).

In a minute and a half, Chandler crystallizes what I’ve believed for some time. I don’t think I ever want to hear that “partnering in ministry” crap again.

* so-called “Online Discernment Ministries” — admittedly, they are online, but beyond that …

Luke 18:10-14 (NKJV):

Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, ‘God, I thank You that I am not like other men—extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess.’ And the tax collector, standing afar off, would not so much as raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.

Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the publican (aka tax collector) is something that many of us cling to.  This world is lousy with Pharisees (particularly as described in this parable) and the advent of the blogosphere just gave them a bigger bully pulpit and a louder megaphone.  Trying to disabuse readers of some of their silliness — more specifically, trying to help others avoid the pain brought to me by the Pharisees in my own life — is one of the primary reasons that I write.

Well, apparently, God deemed that I needed to be smacked right between the eyes last night. It occurred to me — rather jarringly — that I have been guilty of living as though the publican prayed:

‘God, I thank You that I am not like other men—extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this Pharisee.’

In short, I have been proud of my lack of pride.  I’m not sure which this is more — stupid or shameful.

It’s all about humility.

I have a feeling that I’m not alone.  I hope I am, but I kinda doubt it.  If the shoe fits, your mileage may vary, etc, etc ….

We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God. As soon as we abandon ourselves to God and do the task He has placed closest to us, He begins to fill our lives with surprises. When we become simply a promoter or a defender of a particular belief, something within us dies. That is not believing God — it is only believing our belief about Him.

There’s more to the devotional. I recommend the whole thing. But I thought this part was particularly good.

There’s a longer video here — as Chan addresses his congregation regarding the decision.

Now, of those who know who Chan is, there are probably very few who didn’t already know about this transition.  So why bring it up, anyway?  Well, a sure sign that you’re getting older is that you have déjà vu more often (after all, if there’s “nothing new under the sun”, you’re bound to get more re-runs the longer that you’re on the planet).  And I had a massive, two-fold case of it recently.

Piper-esque déjà vu

While some of the reaction to Chan’s decision has been positive — “Wow, rock on, bro; sounds like God is doing some serious stuff in your heart and life” — there has been other reaction that has been quite negative. And the negative reaction isn’t just coming from the far-right fringe bloggers who only care about attaching labels and don’t give a rat’s glutes as to the actual veracity of what Chan writes and teaches.  Rather, it’s coming from writers who, while further to the right than I am, I would consider to be rational and capable of conversation with those with whom they disagree.  While it’s not clear in some cases, many of these bloggers certainly seem to be people who like/admire Chan.  As I said recently about the crucifixion of John Piper, with friends like these …

Actually, a lot of the hub-bub surrounding Chan is quite reminiscent of the firestorm around Piper.  And much of the same reasoning that I discussed in my last post about Piper applies here as well.  For instance, while Chan’s track record is not as extensive as Piper’s — and it looks like it may never be, at least publicly, as God takes Chan off the radar — it’s still pretty clear that the guy has lapped me (and probably you) a few times spiritually.  And while (again) no one gets carte blanche, I’m thinking that a Christian brother needs to be given at least a tiny bit of the benefit of the doubt.

Since the Chan issue has no whipping-boy (a la Warren in the Piper issue), there are some points of divergence in the criticism.  One of them seems to be an appeal to cessationism.  Now while I think it’s a wrong viewpoint, I don’t have a major beef with cessationism.  Unfortunately, in most cases surrounding the criticism of Chan, it’s tied to something with which I do have a major beef.

Many of the writers criticizing Chan would claim to believe in sola Scriptura, and if that’s what they truly believed, I would agree with them.  But what they are actually espousing is not sola Scriptura (the belief that Scripture is the highest and ultimate guide for the Christian’s life), but solo Scriptura (the belief that Scripture is the only guide for the Christian’s life).  Sola places things like counsel from other Christians, teachings, and guidance by the Spirit on a lower level than Scripture.  Solo dismisses them entirely.

Now I would imagine that the writers who espouse solo would argue that that’s not what they’re saying. But when Chan specifically states that he’s been diligently searching the Scripture to be sure that this decision aligns with God’s Word, there are only two conclusions at which we can arrive:  (1) the aforementioned critics are ignorant of Chan’s statement* or (2) the aforementioned critics are genuinely espousing solo Scriptura.  If the latter is true, then — to be intellectually honest and consistent with their beliefs — they need to stop attending church immediately (and throw out chunks of the Bible, to boot).

(And yes, I recognize the conflict of a believer in solo Scriptura throwing out chunks of Scripture. This is simply illustrative of the lunacy of such a belief.)

One other thought on this.  I defy anyone to watch this two-minute video of Chan and tell me that this is not a man who takes the Bible very seriously.

Bobby-esque déjà vu

In Talladega Nights**, there is a conversation between Ricky Bobby and his team’s owner, Larry Dennit Jr., after Bobby has won a race. Dennit chides him on the “obscene gesture” that Bobby made, specifically as it relates to the NASCAR points and sponsorship dollars that it will cost them. The following exchange ensues:

Bobby: With all due respect, Mr Dennit, I had no idea you’d gotten experimental surgery to have your [censored] removed.

Dennit (indignantly): What did you say?

Bobby: Whoa, whoa! I said it “with all due respect”!

Dennit: That doesn’t mean you get to say whatever you want to say to me.

Bobby: It sure as heck does! It’s in the Geneva Convention. Look it up!

(The censored word refers to a portion of the anatomy often attributed to manliness.)

While the criticism of Chan and its theological ramifications are quite disturbing, I find it down-right terrifying that some of Chan’s critics are employing the same logic as Ricky Bobby.  They might not use the phrase “with all due respect”, but they often employ some radical, wild-eyed (and usually generic) example, quickly followed by “I’m not saying this about Chan, but …”

Puhleeeeeze, Sparky.  If you’re not saying it about Chan, then why even bring it up in a blog post that’s all about criticizing his decision?  I’ve looked it up.  The Geneva Convention does not allow you to make crazy accusations about mythical third parties in the midst of a criticism of a real person, but preempt any cry of “foul” by simply saying that your crazy accusation was not in any way related to the real person.

With all due respect, we’re not as stupid as you show yourself to be.

* I know for a fact that this is the case for one critic.  He’s actually proud of his willful ignorance.  Don’t confuse him with the facts; his mind’s made up.

** (not a movie I’d recommend, FWIW)

It was noted earlier this year that John Piper has invited Rick Warren to speak at this year’s Desiring God national conference.  This has been public information for at least a couple months, but was more formally announced in recent days.

When this announcement was made, to quote Tillie in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? , “all hell done broke loose”.

Now, admittedly, I was a bit surprised by the invitation.  There are some things that Warren has written which strike me as being in error, as best as I interpret Scripture.  And, then there’s those dang Hawaiian shirts.

But, on the other hand, some of the criticisms of Warren take asininity to a height that would give a Sherpa a nose-bleed.

Either way, I wouldn’t consider Warren to be part of (what I affectionately have termed) “the Piper posse”.  But hey, I have a great appreciation for Pastor John.  And ya know what?  Before further investigation into any issue, if he and I disagree on something, I’m putting my money on him turning out to be the one who is right.

Does that mean that I give him a free pass and blindly follow whatever he says or does?  No, not by a long shot.  (And I’d venture to say that he wouldn’t want that, either.)  In fact, I know there are some issues that he and I disagree on, and I’m fairly certain that my view is correct.

There is, admittedly, a part of me that wants to say, “C’mon; this is John freakin’ Piper we’re talking about!!”  But even setting aside any “celebrity pastor” status, we have to look at the man’s track record.  And ya know what?  At the end of the day, we’re talking about the track record of John freakin’ Piper.

(And the circle of life is complete.)

Seriously, if I’m going to claim anything even approximating intellectual honesty, I need to hear him out even if he says that all 43-year-olds should be painted purple and hung upside-down from a flagpole next Wednesday.  Granted, that one would probably need a long expository explanation; but, to whatever degree I ought to give the benefit of the doubt to any Christian brother or sister, Pastor John should be getting it ten-fold.

And yet we’re hearing nothing but criticism for Piper’s decision.  Some of it may be valid; some is tiresomely obtuse, rehashing sad (and untrue) whacks at Warren; and some of it takes the form of crap like this (referring to Piper’s upcoming sabbatical):

If [I] had just endorsed Rick Warren and brought him to my conference, I’d take a sabbatical, too. Permanently.

But all of it (that I’ve seen, anyway) is ostensibly coming from those that like and/or admire Piper.  With friends like these ….

What I am completely incredulous about, though, is that Piper made clear why he made this decision and some of the criticisms actually quote his reasoning — verbatim — and yet miss the whole thing.  Part of what Piper said was this (emphasis mine):

When I wrote [to Rick Warren] … I said “the conference is called ‘Think: The Life of the Mind and the Love of God.’ I want you to come. You are the most well-known pragmatist pastor in the world. I don’t think you are a pragmatist at root. Come and tell us why thinking Biblically matters to you in your amazingly pragmatic approach to ministry.”

One of the corollaries to Occam’s Razor says, “Never attribute to malice that which can be explained by stupidity.”  In that spirit, I’m going to assume that those who quoted Piper (and yet totally whiffed on the content of the quote) did so out of a mistake and not a willful blindness born of a hatred for Warren.  So let me spell it out.  And let me do so by past example.

A few years ago, Piper invited Mark Driscoll to speak at a DG conference.  The God-blogosphere was all abuzz with what a Bad Idea this was.  Most of it surrounded predictions that Driscoll’s invitation would result in a plague of locusts in downtown Minneapolis and a protest headed by Chris Rock and Quentin Tarantino over all the foul language that Driscoll would use.

And when, at the conference, Piper gave Driscoll a mild bit of fatherly admonishment, many of the critics took this as validation of their prognostication, as though Piper had rent his clothes in agony and apologized for screwing up so badly by inviting Driscoll.  When Piper heard that his words were being used to bash Driscoll, he was appalled.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve noticed (and if you only listen to him to find new stuff to criticize, then you probably haven’t), but Driscoll has become a bit more mature and a bit less rash over the last few years.  In short, Mark is growing.  While all credit goes to God on this one, I’d bet dollars-to-doughnuts that his relationship with Piper is one of the tools that God is using in this process.  And maybe, just maybe, the fact that Piper invited him to speak at DG helped to show how much Piper meant business.

So now Piper is cultivating a relationship with Rick Warren.  And here’s what I hear Piper essentially saying:

There are many ways in which you and I, foundationally, believe the same things.  Now in my sphere, the way that this plays out in my life and the lives of many of my peeps is XYZ.  But in your life, this plays out differently.  Show us how you get from point A to point B.

Honestly, this is a challenge that Piper has presented to Warren.  But not in the sense of throwing down a gauntlet.  I believe that Piper truly believes that there is a path from point A to point B, and he is genuinely interested in seeing how this plays out.  Right there is enough reason for Piper to have extended the invitation.

But even if we assume the worst, and there is not a path from point A to point B, and Warren falls flat on his theological face, who’s to say that the whole Piper posse influence doesn’t cause Warren to step back and think some things through?  While Warren is not a young buck (so he probably won’t have the Timothy-Paul relationship with Piper that Driscoll has), it’s hard to imagine him being involved with someone God is using mightily and not being affected in some way.

There are only three conclusions that I can reach about much of the virulent criticism:

1. There are many professing Christians out there that not only think that Warren is in error, but genuinely believe that God is totally incapable of changing him.  Even if we set aside the laughable nature of such a view, it becomes even more ludicrous for someone to claim any affinity for Piper — someone who is all about God’s sovereignty — and yet believe in such a wimpy God.  It would be more logical for Ahmadinejad to claim that he greatly admires the teachings of a particular Hasidic rabbi.
2. There are many professing Christians out there that think that the worst will happen — Warren’s head will start spinning and he’ll vomit pea soup from the pulpit at Bethlehem — and yet Piper won’t do or say anything.  An examination of Piper’s track record would indicate otherwise.  At one conference (and I’m not even sure it was his conference), one speaker said something with which Piper strongly disagreed, and when it came his turn to speak, he made no bones about the disagreement before launching into his message.  (This viewpoint also points to a God who is totally incapable of protecting His sheep from error.  See previous comment about Ahmadinejad.)
3. There are many professing Christians out there that don’t want to see certain people drawn closer to God, because it would upset the apple-cart of their philosophical belief system — something that I doubt God gives a rip about.

Perhaps there is a fourth, more charitable, conclusion out there.  But, frankly, I ain’t holdin’ my breath.

I wrote a fairly verbose post about him a couple weeks ago.  Other lyrics from the same song that I quoted then seem more appropriate now:

And it’s easy enough
To say he’s better off
Chalk it up
To the luck of the draw
Life is tough
It was his time to go and that’s all

But I don’t know about that

‘Cause I’m broken and breathless and bent to the ground
And I’m listening; Lord, but I don’t hear a sound

I’m sure there will be more eloquent things written about Michael in the next few days (e.g. T-Wax has a list of some of Michael’s articles that meant the most to him). Just don’t expect much from this corner of the blogosphere.

Some time ago, I read a blog post in which the author stated that he watched a movie the previous night.  He admitted to several short-comings in the film, including some sub-par acting, occasionally bad editing, and over-simplistic resolution in the plot.

The list of criticisms that he provided seemed to be coming straight from the “Talking Points Hymnbook for the Too-Cool-for-School” crowd in some Christian circles as they knocked Facing the Giants.  Among those in the church, there seemed to be two camps (with no middle ground): those who went ga-ga over the movie simply because it was produced by Christians, and those who were thoroughly embarrassed that the film wasn’t perfect (definitions of “perfect” to be determined at a later date).  The author seemed to be falling into the latter category.

But then, the author confessed, he thoroughly enjoyed the movie, anyway.  And then came the punchline.  The author was not referring to Facing the Giants, but to the beloved Frank Capra film, Mr Smith Goes to Washington.  The author’s point (and I concur) was that a movie does not have to be perfect to be enjoyable.  It also seemed that his secondary point (with which I also agree) was that, while our brethren shouldn’t get a carte blanche pass on creative issues, the “too cool for school” crowd was getting its knickers in a twist for no reason.

Such was my impression while watching A Greater Yes.  The movie isn’t perfect.  Case in point:  Early on, the lead character, a high school student, is addressing one of her classes.  At times, the camera view changes from her to members of the (mostly not listening) class.  The shots of bored students usually come during pauses in her speech, so the silence punctuates the fact that they aren’t paying attention.  However, most of the “white noise” that is occurring in the background when the camera is on her is totally gone during these other shots.  The switches back and forth are a bit sonically jarring.

There is also a little sub-par acting.  This might be partially explained by the fact that half of the cast members are also the crew (assuming you expand “crew” to include the producers, directors and writer).  However, in retrospect, some of what might seem to be bad acting might actually be intentional.  Several of the characters are high-school students, and (with apologies to my friends of that age) teenagers can be pretty weird at times.  This is a point to which the movie even admits when one characters implies that another is a freak, then clarifies that that was intended as a compliment.

And, yes, I realize that I am over 400 words into this review and have yet to say anything really substantive about the movie itself.  Part of that is that some of the review that I want to write is fairly spoiler-ish.  As much as I hate spoilers, there is a greater spiritual point that I wish to make (that also ties into the earlier points I made) that would make no sense without revealing key points of the plot.  So if you really hate spoilers, it might be a good idea to watch the movie before reading all of this review.  I’ll warn you when the spoilers come up, but know that you’ll be halfway through the review when that happens (and by then you may very well be spellbound by my writing). 

THE ACTUAL REVIEW

The story of A Greater Yes is based on the true story of Amy Newhouse (Underwood), a Christian teenager from Pampa, Texas.  She has a lot going for her and a sincere love for God on top of that.  Shortly after returning from a summer mission trip to Africa, she feels God’s leading to be involved in the changing of lives in her hometown, just as she had been when she was thousands of miles away.  One of the ways that she does this is to start a prayer group at her school.  The first meeting has a whopping three attendees, two of which are Amy and her boyfriend, Tyler (Dorsey).

Another thing that she does is to try to befriend a loner kid, Jordan (Willis) at the school.  I found his character to be truly interesting.  At first blush, he seems to be the stock “bad guy character of the Christian film”.  He dresses a bit “out there” (compared to most of the other students), doesn’t get the “God stuff” at all, steals money (and another crime is alluded to), and he has spiky hair and smokes through most of the movie.  But upon closer examination, these attributes are not a flashing neon sign to help the ignorant viewer recognize that “this is the bad guy” — it’s just genuinely a part of his character.

Even by the end of the movie, we are unsure of his spiritual state.  There is no scene in which he suddenly spouts “the sinner’s prayer” in flawless King James English.  The closest he comes to redemption (as far as we see) is that he eventually returns the money that he stole.

And, at least once, Jordan shows greater insight than the Christian characters.  In an early attempt to be Jordan’s friend, Amy sits with him at lunch and starts making small talk.  Then she produces a flier for her prayer group and invites him to come.  Jordan notes that she had an ulterior motive — she didn’t want to be with him; she just wanted to invite him to the prayer group.  He then accuses, “You Christians don’t want friends; you just want converts.”  She admits that he was right and apologizes.

HERE THERE BE DRAGONS SPOILERS

Shortly after that exchange, Amy starts getting sick.  What doctors first think is bronchitis (because of coughing and such) turns out to be cancer around her heart and lungs.  Surgery is unable to completely remove the mass, so she undergoes a 10-day round of chemotherapy.  It turns out that this is ineffective, so she undergoes another 8 weeks of a stronger dose of chemo.  During this time, not only does the prayer group grow much bigger, but people from all over the school, the town, and even in neighboring towns, are encouraged and challenged by her struggle and her faith in the midst of it.  At one point, one of the characters tells her that “people who have never prayed before are praying for you”.

This second round of chemo is effective, and Amy returns home to happy and excited family and schoolmates.  But no one is more excited than Amy, as she starts looking for (and finding) ways to use her trials to bring honor to God and hope to others.

However, she soon has a relapse and has to return to the hospital for more chemotherapy.  While Amy holds on to her faith during this trial, many around her seem to lose theirs.  It is said or implied by several characters that it seems that God isn’t listening and all those prayers were useless.  Most of the support she was shown during her first battle dries up quickly.  But Amy hangs on to her faith, and encourages others to do so as well.  Near the end of the movie, she realizes that even when God’s answer to a prayer is “no”, He often has “a greater yes” behind it (hence the movie title).  Unfortunately, the answer to the prayers for healing was, indeed, a “no”.  This round of chemo is ineffective; there are no viable options, and she is sent home to die, which she did at age 16.

There is no indication in the movie that the support she received in her first battle (which then dried up in her second battle and subsequent death) made any kind of significant comeback.  And given human nature, it is not to be expected otherwise.  So, in a sense, the impact that she had on others’ lives was fairly limited.  She went through all that suffering for a very small payoff (as far as we know, anyway).  But God was in control of everything and His plans were done.

The title of this review doesn’t primarily refer to the movie.  It was Amy’s life that was unremarkable, in a good way.  And that’s what I found most encouraging about this film.

Six months after his passing, I sat in a church for a Caedmon’s Call concert, ready to endure two opening acts that I had never heard of, so that we could hurry up and get to the band that we had all come to hear.

The first act was some guy named Andrew Peterson.  I liked his music OK at the time.  (In retrospect, I probably would have liked it a lot, had I not been predisposed to being a bit ticked that he was delaying Caedmon’s Call from hitting the stage.)

The third song in his set was called “Three Days Before Autumn”.  He had written it as a tribute to Rich and as a memory of the whirlwind of emotions that he went through when he found out about Rich’s passing. You can read the lyrics here.  It’s a painfully raw song, and I lost it about three lines in.  Not a bit misty-eyed, not a few quiet tears, but convulsions of weeping.

I thought I was over Rich’s death.  As a friend of mine says, “You know what ‘thought’ done.”

I don’t remember anything else about Andrew’s set, nor anything of the set done by Bebo Norman (the second opening act).  When I got home, I looked Andrew up on the web.  In those days, he was wholly independent, having never been signed, so some of his music was freely available on his site.  I probably listened to “Three Days” about 50 times over the next few days. You may think that maudlin (and maybe you’re right); I found it very cathartic.

I came to realize that, much like Rich had been able to put words to what I was unable to express about God, Andrew had been able to put words to what I was unable to express about Rich.

So why bring this all up now?  It’s nowhere near the anniversary of Rich’s passing.  Heck, it’s not even too close to Andrew’s birthday.  But I’m getting a profound sense of déjà vu.

The opening lines of Andrew’s song say:

Three days before autumn
A cold winter came
Blew in a telephone call when my friend went away
And I swear I heard thunder at the sound of his name
He never even knew me at all, but I loved him the same

It struck me as startling, yet accurate, that Andrew referred to Rich as his “friend” despite the fact that Rich “never even knew [Andrew] at all” and that Andrew “loved him the same”.  This is certainly how I felt about Rich, and I’m sure that Andrew and I aren’t the only two people who feel this way.

Now that same feeling (as well as many others expressed in the song) is back with a vengeance, but for someone else.  Michael Spencer, dubbed “The Internet Monk” (or “iMonk”, for short) was blogging long before all the cool kids started doing it.  And not piddly little “Look at this cute video I found on YouTube” junk — but deep, heavy stuff that often reflected Michael’s own struggles and shortcomings as he tried to live out his faith in Christ as best as he could.  If Michael was any more transparent, he’d be invisible.

I’ll be honest — I don’t always read his site as faithfully as perhaps I ought.  Sometimes it’s sheer laziness, but sometimes it’s the fear that if I read something that Michael is struggling with, then I’m responsible to deal with it, too.  And to be honest, if I had to face down one tenth of what Michael has had to wrestle with, I think I would have bagged this whole Christianity thing a long time ago.  But Michael isn’t like that.  Even as he recognized severe problems in much of modern-day evangelicalism, he hung on to his faith.  Francis Schaeffer may have written a book entitled “How Should We Then Live?”, but Michael is the personification of that question.

Sometimes I have to wonder if what he’s dealing with now “ain’t nothing but a ham sandwich” (as Pancho Juarez is fond of saying) compared to the many issues that he’s written about in the past.

Several months ago, Michael was diagnosed with cancer.  He has more recently stopped writing at his site, though a friend has taken over, contributing his own material and recycling some of Michael’s many “greatest hits”.  Michael’s wife, Denise, has kept us apprised of his status.  Two weeks ago, she told us that the doctor had said that the cancer was too advanced and aggressive to expect a remission from ever occurring, and that he expected the current course of treatment to only give Michael another 6-12 months to live. (I strongly encourage you to read that whole post, as Denise writes about Michael’s faith through this ordeal.  It’s encouraging and challenging.)

On Tuesday, Denise told us that that treatment was not helping at all, but actually hurting.  So it was discontinued, and Michael is now under hospice care.  Denise’s prayer requests have shifted to prayers “for minimal pain and for a peaceful passing”.

As Andrew wrote about Rich, so I feel about Michael.  I count him as a friend, even though he “[barely] knows me at all” (I’ve commented several times on his blog, we’ve exchanged a few emails, and I even once was given a derisive nickname by another blogger while in Michael’s defense — a nickname that I wear proudly).  And “I love him the same”.

While I’ve learned many things from this guy from a little town in eastern Kentucky, the over-arching theme of what I take from his life and his writings is tenacity.  Even in the midst of a lot of insanity swirling around him, Michael holds on to Jesus.

He’ll see Him face to face soon; our loss will be his great gain. Vaya con Dios, my friend.

* - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * -*

From a purely pragmatic standpoint, Michael and Denise need financial assistance, particularly after Michael lost his job and the health insurance associated with it.  Friends have held various fund-raisers — the latest of which are prayer beads (if there’s a Southern Baptist with more Anglican and Catholic friends than Michael, I can’t imagine who that would be).  Or you can donate to them directly through PayPal.  See Michael’s site for further details.

We’ve been studying Revelation on Sunday mornings at my church. Even if a person takes significant license with the text and/or interprets it all metaphorically, you have to deal with the question, “How can a loving God judge man, bringing about the horrible plagues cataloged in the text and condemning people to hell?”

The easy answer is found in Isaiah 55:8:

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways,” says the LORD.

But I think that we don’t really understand the magnitude of that verse the way we ought.

Although we’ve dealt with the question (”How can a loving God. . . “) before, my pastor raised it again this week, noting in Revelation 15:3-4:

They sing the song of Moses, the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb, saying:

“Great and marvelous are Your works,
Lord God Almighty!
Just and true are Your ways,
O King of the saints!
Who shall not fear You, O Lord, and glorify Your name?
For You alone are holy.
For all nations shall come and worship before You,
For Your judgments have been manifested. ”

He noted that, “Here, [the singers] are going to be seeing the most devastating judgments on the earth. And is anyone complaining about how unfair it is?” (Obviously the answer is “no”.)

He then went on to give an illustration that helped me better understand this issue:

My two-year-old daughter [is] a very sweet girl. But she has a lot of self-will to her. Now she doesn’t have the wisdom or knowledge or experience or mental capacity that I do or that [my wife] does. But she thinks she does. She thinks she knows the right way to do everything herself. If her shirt or dress is on backwards, it’s “right”. If she doesn’t get Sprite for breakfast, then it’s “not fair”. If candy’s not on the menu for dinner, then sometimes a tantrum will ensue, proclaiming dad’s injustice.

And [my daughter and I] are both humans. When you try to put your capacity and knowledge and wisdom and compare it to God’s — take [the difference between my daughter and me] and multiply it by infinity, and you maybe come close to understanding the difference between what you think and understand and what God thinks and understands.

And yet, as [my daughter] grows and matures, she’ll start to understand why we do the things we do as parents. It’s the same thing [for us] as Christians — we grow, we mature, we gain from God’s Word. We grow in the Lord. We start to understand more of His ways and why He does [what He does]. But there will not be a perfect understanding until we come face-to-face with Him.

It has been said, regarding many different facets of life, that it is the journey that counts, not the destination. This book is certainly one of those times.

In The Bark of the Bog Owl , Jonathan Rogers borrows from the Biblical story of David in 1 Samuel, setting the story in an adventure/fantasy world.  Those familiar with the story of David will know in advance where certain parts of the story are going.

For instance, when the wise and well-respected prophet, Bayard (the book’s analogue of Samuel) shows up at the house of Errol (the book’s Jesse) looking for the Wilderking, we know that he’s going to find him to be the youngest of Errol’s sons, a shepherd boy named Aidan.

And when Corenwald (Israel) goes to battle with Pyrth (Philistia), complete with the giant Pyrthen warrior Greidawl (Goliath) issuing the challenge for one Corenwald warrior to fight him, and blaspheming the name of the One True God, we already know Greidawl’s fate (and by whose hand it will come).

But Rogers doesn’t just ape the Scriptures. Were this a direct re-telling of the story, one would classify it as speculative fiction, as Rogers fills in a lot of details on which the Bible is silent. Also to be noted is the fact that the story arc doesn’t always follow the Biblical narrative either.  For instance, after Aidan kills Greidawl, the Pyrthens go back on their word, and the battle isn’t over, as they start employing cannons, a battle “technology” that the men of Corenwald have never seen.

This book appears to be targeted at middle-school age kids, and one can definitely see the influence that Rogers has on Andrew Peterson’s Wingfeather Saga series. But like Peterson’s books (or C S Lewis’ Narnia books), this novel is in no way limited to its primary target audience.

If you have kids of this age, and want to use them as an excuse to read this book to them, go ahead.  I won’t tell.  And even if you don’t, I still won’t tell.

Jesus, speaking to Peter, said:

Most assuredly, I say to you, when you were younger, you girded yourself and walked where you wished; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish.” This He spoke, signifying by what death he would glorify God. And when He had spoken this, He said to him, “Follow Me.”

Isn’t this another way of saying “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your death” ?

I think maybe we’re focusing on the wrong thing.

Mary came to our church (Calvary Chapel Northwest) several years ago, for a “night of worship” on a Saturday night. She also led worship with/for us Sunday morning. I was fortunate enough to be on the schedule that week, so I got to be with her at rehearsal and sing BGV’s for her on some songs that weekend.

Mary also did a handful of songs solo on that Saturday night, including Kathryn Scott’s “Hungry” and Matt Redman’s “Let My Words Be Few”.  At the time, I had never heard either song before.  Since Mary sang other songs that night that she had written, I assumed that these two were hers, too.  And frankly, they should have been.  Both songs — especially “Hungry” — fit her voice so well, it was staggering.  And they also fit her spirit.  When we sang either song later, I always deemed them to be “Mary’s songs” (even after I discovered that she wasn’t the author), and it almost felt sacrilegious for us (or anyone other than Mary) to sing those songs.

The week that I heard that she had died, I was “on”, and “Hungry” was in our set.  Even as we started to rehearse, I felt God lift that feeling of sacrilege from me, and heard Him telling me that He had her singing much greater songs now.

I was reminded of all of this recently at my worship leader’s home.  He and his wife hosted a dinner for all of us, and we sat around and sang afterward.  One of the songs that was picked (”randomly”) was “Let My Words Be Few”.  I immediately thought of Mary, and immediately started to miss her.  It occurred to me how ridiculous this was — I had only been around her for a few hours, while she was a good friend of my worship leader’s family for many years (and probably had known others in the room better than me, too).

Then it dawned on me.  Although she was a wonderful person, the reason that I missed her was how transparent she was as Jesus shined through her.  That’s really why I was drawn to her.  In just a few hours, I saw Jesus very clearly through Mary’s life.

And that’s the kind of person I want to be.

Last night, I noted that the Pam and Tim Tebow ad didn’t live up to the apocalyptic predictions that the pro-abortion crowd told us about.  Since they would never admit to being wrong, I suggested a few ways in which they could try to recover  — all of them farcical.  One of my suggestions was that they change course and focus on other things that were “wrong” about the ad — specifically that the commercial advocated violence against women.

Again, I was being farcical.

I’d like to think that millions are reading my blog and that someone with no sense of sarcasm ran with my idea.  But in actuality, it’s just a case of the illogical extreme coming true.

THEY DID IT !!!  The president of NOW actually did it !!!

I am blown away at the celebration of the violence against women in it. That’s what comes across to me even more strongly than the anti-abortion message.

Apparently, you can make this stuff up.

[UPDATE:  One of the commenters over on JT's blog (where I found the link to the article) notes that the Snickers ad with Betty White -- which aired immediately before the Tebow ad -- advocates violence against women and the transgendered.]

Then Rick went and prayed in Jesus’ name.

So what was the reaction of the “discerners”?  Did they celebrate the wide exposure to Jesus’ life-changing power?  Are you on drugs, Mr Spicoli?

Reactions included:

1. Xenophobic outrage that Warren included languages other than English
2. Emphasis on “discerning” interpretation of Warren’s motives behind other parts of the prayer, with no notice of the fact that Warren prayed in Jesus’ name (i.e. not bothering to admit that their prediction was wrong)
3. A select few who actually had the chutzpah to insist (after the fact) that Warren did not pray in Jesus’ name.

Fast-forward approximately one year.

2007 Heisman Trophy winner Tim Tebow and his mother, Pam, were slated to appear in a commercial during the Super Bowl broadcast, sponsored by Focus on the Family.  Despite great potential harm to herself while pregnant with Tim, Pam chose to carry the pregnancy to term rather than have an abortion.

The pro-”choice” crowd of 2010, much like the “discerners” of 2009, were up in arms that Pam Tebow would have the audacity to tell her story of what she chose to do. All media outlets (including sports radio — which I listen to in order to escape political discussion) were giving a lot of play to the alleged controversy.  If we were to believe the pro-”choice” reaction to this ad (which hadn’t aired yet), Tebow himself would be waiting in a back alley with a coat hanger by halftime.

Meanwhile, those with more than 3 brain cells recognized the lunacy of speaking definitively about what was going to occur in the future, and the gross hypocrisy of those who claim to be pro-choice being upset that someone chose not to have an abortion.  Even a self-described pro-choice sports reporter “betrayed” the movement (and her entire gender) by pointing out the stupidity.

Then the ad ran.  Here it is, in all its “controversial” glory:

Frankly, the “Dove Men plus Care” commercial was more overtly about childbirth (it portrayed/described four births, three of which were specifically required) than this ad was.

So the question now becomes, “How does the pro-’choice’ crowd (who only looked like minor idiots before the ad ran) wipe the egg (that’s apparently krazy-glued in place) off their face?”

Even though I’m staunchly pro-life, I’ll throw a bone to this crowd, and suggest a few ways they can recover, based on what we learned from the “discerners” last year.

1. Note the unfairness that Tebow is described as a Heisman Trophy winner, while poor Darren McFadden and Colt Brennan had to go home empty-handed.
2. Focus on other things wrong with the commercial — after all, it clearly endorses violence against women.
3. Like last year’s Holocaust Warren deniers, tell us that the ad was just as you feared, and that it said all sorts of things that it didn’t really say.

Anyone else have any other ideas?

It’s kind of surprising that Jesus is still seen as this essentially kind, gentle, nonconfrontational, tolerant peace-loving guy. It just goes to show how incredibly appealing this man was. He could say the most offensive, intolerant, even brutal things, and people would keep following Him. It was evident to them that He spoke out of love, not hatred. It was obvious to all that He had no cruel private ax to grind. He did not relish the prospect of punishment. Though He occasionally became furious with His enemies, He did not despise them. The crowd could overlook and forgive His harsh and critical words because this amazing compassion poured out of Him like an overturned vat of perfumed oil.

They tolerated it for almost thirty-six months.

So what does it say about the way I present the truth if I can’t get tolerated for thirty-six seconds?