A Greater Yes: The Story of Amy Newhouse
(2009 - Anne Underwood, Bradley Dorsey, Paul Willis)

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.

About 12.5 years ago, God called home singer/songwriter Rich Mullins. Burned into my mind for eternity are the first four words of Danl Blackwood’s email notifying us of Rich’s passing : The unthinkable has happened. I still get a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach when I hear a hammer dulcimer (an instrument indelibly associated with Rich in many folks’ minds — I personally know of three people who took up the instrument because of him).

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.

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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.

For my next magical trick, I’m going to steal liberally from my pastor. But seeing as how he gets the vast majority of his material from Someone Else, I think I’m safe.

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.

The Bark of the Bog Owl
Jonathan Rogers
(book 1 of The Wilderking Trilogy)

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.

My pastor once noted the fairly vacuous nature of the statement “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life”, particularly as an evangelistic tool.  Because, to be honest, the human response to that would be “That’s great; I love me, too.  And I have a wonderful plan for my life.”

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 Barrett was worship leader at Calvary Chapel Merritt Island. In November 2008, God declared that the suffering she had undergone with cancer was complete and called her home.

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.

(or It’s getting to where you can’t even caricature stupidity anymore)

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.]

Last year, in the month or so leading up to the presidential inauguration, we were told definitively by many (who apparently had the gift of “discernment”) that, in delivering his prayer, Rick Warren would not pray in Jesus’ name, thereby proving the fact that he is in league with the devil, incapable of doing anything good, and beyond even God’s saving power.

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?

I just finished reading The God Who Smokes by (the ironically-named) Timothy J Stoner. After writing in great length about all of Jesus’ talk (throughout His earthly ministry) of upcoming judgment, Stoner notes:

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?