The End of the Spear

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's winner in the category 'Well, what did you expect?' goes to...The End of the Spear....."

I've made a nearly full reversal in my taste of motion pictures in the past several years. Once an avid fan of action-packed, blow-em-up thrillers, bazaar dark comedies, and over the top science fiction films, my tastes have mellowed, matured even, into a preference for more slow-moving, deeply meaningful human dramas of all types. My tolerance for violence in movies is almost at an end, perhaps largely because I have seen the impact of a lifetime of unbridled violence pumped into the eyes and ears of my teenage sons. It's like a switch was thrown in my head that said "enough!".

So I have found myself feeling abandoned, really, by the American film industry. In my way of thinking, the movies I really care to see are few and far between. I want a movie to speak something new and fresh; I don't necessarily need to agree with the movie in theme or subject, but I don't enjoy it unless it resonates with some truth about life that I have never thought about before. These are the movies that I will wait for.

I was happy when the lights dimmed in our church service this past Sunday and a preview for the new film "The End of the Spear" was presented. Being a church in the pietistic / holiness tradition (that is, historically opposed to cinema and other forms of secular entertainment), promotion of film is rare, particularly during worship time. The only other occasion I can recall is when Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" was being promoted. At any rate, Spear looked intriguing because it appeared to have the qualities that would catch my attention. From what I can tell, the film is the story of a missionary to the Amazon who is killed by tribal natives along with four colleagues. Years later, the missionary’s son returns to the forests and encounters his father’s killer, learning about forgiveness, grace, and acceptance of people who he found to be very different than himself. It is said that the producer of the film is himself a Christian, and that he produced this film with the intent of marketing a mainstream film with a message that would appeal largely to evangelicals. And he would have been right about that last part, were it not for one, small, incorrect assumption.

The Christian workplace where I currently serve was abuzz with excitement about this film. The email bulletin boards were full of messages from people looking for tickets to opening night. Everyone was excited, and I heard many positive reports about the film, it’s strong positive message, and how it was a great contribution to the mainstream entertainment industry. Then the bomb dropped. It seems that someone remembered that the lead actor, Chad Allen, came out in Advocate magazine in 2001 and is openly gay. What was really startling was the uproar this created among evangelicals. It would seem that "gay" is rock while "grace" is mere scissors.

Now lest I begin receiving “love mail” from Christians accusing me of siding with the “gay agenda”, I will first say that I have no intention of arguing here whether an openly gay actor should or should not be “allowed” to work on a film with a overtly Christian theme. The question I really want to ask is, what did the evangelical community expect? Evangelicalism and the entertainment industry have always made strange bedfellows (consider, for example, the 700 Club and the Left Behind series of novels), so it should come as no surprise that not everyone working to produce the film shares in the values portrayed in the film. Why is homosexuality the litmus test for measuring the actor’s worth? I would venture to guess that if Mr. Allen were in fact a straight, albeit promiscuous unmarried man, there would not have been the first whisper about his morality or suitability to play the lead role. Since when does the church hold actors to a higher standard than presidents and priests?

I have vowed never to use the “H” word in my essays, so I will attribute the Christian community’s reaction about Chad Allen to a sort of collective insanity. I once heard it said that a sign of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, while expecting a different result each time. It’s disheartening, and none too ironic, to consider that people who have personally experienced God’s grace and forgiveness in their lives would so quickly turn on a filmmaker for including a “sinner” in his cast. American evangelicals recognize as much as anyone how the film industry can be uplifting and glorious while at the same time ugly and decadent. This is the nature of the industry. To boycott or disparage this film because of Chad Allen’s involvement is disingenuous and sends the wrong message to so many people who are looking to the Christian faith for acceptance and encouragement. Christians have gotten into bed with the film industry fully cognizant of how such things work, and then balk at the result as if surprised.

In protest to the Christian community’s bickering over this film, I’m taking my family to see Brokeback Mountain this weekend. At least both of the lead actors in that film are straight.

A Generation Rejected

I was twice saddened this morning as I attended my church service. Each year on the anniversary of the 1973 Roe V. Wade decision, our church chooses to recognize the loss of a generation of children by solemnly marching people bearing a single rose across the platform, starting with those born in 1973 and progressing to a mother carrying the newest born baby, who drops the last rose in a bassinet. The purpose of this demonstration is to bring to our awareness the “human face” represented by the loss of 40 million children in our nation since 1973. This alone is heartbreaking.

As I pondered this loss, I began to consider the rhetoric in which people on both sides of this issue have engaged. I thought about the litmus test that is now applied to Supreme Court nominees (have we forgotten the No Religious Test clause?); the insistence by the right that Roe v. Wade be overturned; the left’s view of all who consider life sacred to be bigots, or worse, enemies of freedom. And I thought about the 40 million mothers and their families who faced a crisis in their lives and chose the only solution they felt was available to them. And I have just one question: where was the church?

I don't mean this as an indictment of the church, and I mean no disrespect to the thousands of Americans who have fought the good fight in defense of the unborn since 1973. But it is only to say that from the perspective of the average person who watches the evening news, much more energy is expended by opponents of abortion in political activism and national "dialog" than in doing the hard work of immersing themselves in the lives of the marginalized to the extent that they can be agents of change as these difficult decisions are being made. As the groundswell of abortion has gained momentum, have Christians and others who consider life sacred matched this momentum with their counter-momentum of compassion? Or have we accomplish little more than heaping guilt upon the souls of these broken-hearted mothers, while at the same time pouring millions of dollars and hours into fighting political causes? Here's a wake up call: Roe v. wade will likely never be overturned as is hoped by many, and if it were, the church is in no way ready for the crisis that would ensue.

As I have read the gospels in the New Testament, I have never encountered a challenge from Jesus of Nazareth to engage political powers of the day in order to accomplish social change. Jesus and his contemporaries had much more to protest than do Americans. The tyrannical rule of the Roman emporor and his puppet "kings"; the absolute suppression of all dissent and execution of dissenters; crushing taxation carried out by unscrupulous collectors who pocketed fortunes for themselves; and the total absence of political, personal, and religious freedom. Why didn't Jesus speak against these social injustices? Why didn't he organize political action campaigns and raise funds from his followers in order to fight such tyranny? The answer is clear in the gospels: such is not the Kingdom of God. There is little doubt that his followers expected Jesus to advocate political insurrection and social liberation, but such was not his calling and purpose; neither is it ours. Instead, amazingly, Jesus' followers watched as he immersed himself in the lives of the marginalized and disenfranchised. This ministry was spoken of by the prophet Isaiah, who said of Christ:

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.

Jesus was totally invested in all those who surrounded him, and influenced them in a way that liberated them in the midst of their seemingly hopeless lives. Such is the Kindgom of God.

And so the question remains: what is the role of the Church in the present conflict, and what of the crisis that would ensue if Roe v. Wade were reversed? As for the latter, consider this: for the past fifteen years or so, between 1.3 million and 1.5 million children have lost their lives each year through abortion. During the 1990's, about 120,000 children were adopted each year, or something less than 10% of the children whose lives were ended prior to birth. Even at this rate, a 1997 survey found that 6 in 10 Americans have had a personal experience with adoption (see adoption.com). A reversal of Roe v. Wade, apart from the political firestorm which would continue for decades, would undoubtedly increase tenfold or more the need for compassionate and selfless people willing to care for a rejected generation. Almost every family in America would be impacted. Have we invested our time and resources into the existing adoption infrastructure and counseling services such that this influx would constitue anything less than an unprecedented and unmitigated human and social crisis? Are we demonstrating a committment to mentor our nation's youth, and guide them toward abstinence and healthy relationships such that the need for abortion would be a relic of the past? It would not be overreaching to suggest that the current human and financial resources expended in the fight against abortion are grossly misplaced, and all social support mechanisms (including the church) would be overwhelmed if a reversal were successful.

As for the role of the Church, it is clear. Set aside everything which would hinder compassionate, unfettered ministry to the thousands of women and their families each day who face the worst of all decisions. Support every organization, regardless of affiliation, which will join the cause in providing real choice to these victims of our culture. Mentor our youth and help them see a higher path, and provide them with everything they need to make the right decisions for their lives. Stop sending mixed "moral" messages or supporting those who do. And most importantly, come to know the true spirit of Christ, and administer grace as he would have us administer it. No judgement; no condemnation of wrong; no rejection of those we think have sinned.

The current state of affairs on the pro-life / pro-choice front is tragic. Christians and other people of faith have a responsiblity to care for the wounded and set the captives free, not to continue to wage war. Let's defend the lives of the living as well as the unborn, and preach the good news to the poor: that there is a better choice.

Skeptical Faith Part 1

The majority of my blog readers (two to be exact) recently contacted me to ask what has become of my blog. Honestly, I was embarassed to return to my site, wipe off the thick layer of dust, and discover that it's almost been a year since my last post. I read with some amusement my last post, "Unintelligent Deception", and realized with some discomfiture that it read much like an Ann Coulter* column wannabe, penned by a Pat Robertson intern. OK I admit, it wasn't that bad, but I reviewed it with considerable curiosity, suddenly very aware of how much my views have ... ummm... evolved in the past year. Never lacking introspection, I've pondered these personal changes many times in the past months. Am I losing my faith? Am I what many in my christian denomonation would call a "backsilider"? I can say with some faith (no pun intended) that the answer is no. Far from losing my faith, I've developed a skeptical faith.

Faith is not blind. Faith is not shackled by ignorance. To the contrary, the apostle Paul stated in his letter to the Hebrews:

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Heb 11:1 KJV)

As I was growing up, this passage was often used to say that when we need to believe something badly enough; when we can't find or understand an explanation, faith substitutes for evidence, for substance. Of course, this would work well in the absence of any evidence which contradicts traditionally held beliefs. But what is a Christian's response when overwhelming evidence does contradict these traditions?

The recent national discourse on Intelligent Design, if I may revisit my earlier topic, presents one such challenge to the Christian creation tradition. Darwin notwithstanding, in earlier days, before geological and genetic evidence surfaced to challenge the traditional view, Christians posessed a certain legitimacy in attributing creation and human origins to the realm of pauline "faith". Indeed, the body of knowledge at the time offered little substance or scientific evidence, and so faith became the evidence of what people knew to be true.

Evidence, though, has a pesky way of tugging on the twine that holds together the neat parcel of the earlier creation traditions. Evidence first of an exceedingly old earth, and then of an observed progression in the development of species began an erosion in the popular Christian view of young earth with its specially created species, "each after their own kind" (Gen 1:12). The twentieth century brought cosmological discovery of an even more ancient universe, and realization of the unfathomable complexity of life contained in the DNA lifecode. It would seem that the earlier "faith" employed by so many previous generations is in danger from such overwhelming contradictory evidence. That is, of course, if one mistakes faith for fantasy.

I have since come to read Paul's definition of faith to be one of humility, and not of arrogance. Faith requires the faithful to accept that "(God's) ways are not your ways" (Is. 55:8). Evidence contradicting my traditional beliefs does not challenge my faith, it frees my faith. Having evidence to explain a little bit more of the mystery of creation provides the substance that my mind needs to understand a little more about God. My faith is liberated, answered in a manner of speaking; freed to help me move on to the next great mystery of an eternal God.

C.S. Lewis once wrote:

We must not encourage in ourselves or others any tendency to work up a subjective state which, if we succeeded, we should describe as "faith"... The state of mind which desperate desire working on a strong imagination can manufacture is not faith in the Christian sense. It is a feat of psychological gymnastics.

I'm thankful to be released from my psychological gymnastics. I am grateful to have a mind which is blessed with the capacity to understand an iota more about the wonders of Creator.

Powerlessness

After a being stewed in self pity and anxiousness in life’s crock pot this past week, I find myself savoring my existence in a fresh way tonight. I can’t say anything has really changed; my anxieties are still stacked on my desk at work, hanging from the blueprint racks, and heaped in the hard drives and in-boxes of my computer. My home continues to suffer from a profound lack of order, and I still lack the impetus to take any action to order my world (although I can find the mental energy to conduct hours of mental interrogation with others in my household, indicting them for sloth while absolving myself of the same). I hear the same cacophony that accompanies teenage sons, the same chaotic flurry that I experience almost every moment I live in this house. And yet on this night, I am experiencing a renewed, refreshing peace in the midst of my otherwise mundane domestic existence.

I have become powerless.

My twelve-year-old, Dan, has a friend here tonight. His name is Mikey, and he is an unassuming boy, small for his age and, from every observation, introverted. I reached this conclusion when I met him tonight and did my usual gag of getting his name wrong every time I spoke to him.

“So, Ricky, how do you like the sixth grade?”

Dan rolls his eyes. Mikey isn’t sure if I know his name, but is too polite to correct my conscious error.

“Mitch, it’s time to come downstairs and eat”

More orbs shifting upward. More confused silence from our young guest. I’m sure now that he either thinks I’m a nutjob, or is quietly un-amused.

One thing I have observed though: Dan and Mikey shared our “bonus room” (our family room over the garage), and yet were each engaged in their own activities, Mikey on the PC (watching JibJab flash videos over and over on the internet), and Dan on the Xbox. I encouraged them to turn off the screens and do something fun together. Resistant, blank stares provided only the briefest respite from their digital coma.

Now, two hours later, I’m watching them as they delightfully interact. Fifteen minutes hip-to-hip on the piano, sometimes playing the same song, sometimes not. For a moment, they play Beethoven: Mikey playing the Fifth in the lower register, Dan playing Fur Elise in the upper. It’s surprisingly harmonic. Now its on to some unidentifiable, polyrhythmic dance number, and then on to the great duet stand-by “Heart and Soul”, complete with knuckle solo.

Then it’s off to sword battles, accompanied by exquisitely chatty narratives of fantasy and dragons. They’re both talking at the same time. Floorboards creak; some unknowable item crashes to the floor. It’s off to a card game now, and then to a puzzle. Back to the swords, then on to scrabble (they call it “scabble” because, they say, they can’t find the “R’s”)

This remarkable resurrection of the CRT zombies was spontaneous, and delightful to behold. They, too, have become powerless.

Mike, my sixteen-year-old, although not visited this evening by the teenage angst which often takes residence in whatever room he occupies, still did not wander far from the television or Gamecube. Right now, he’s off to Walmart to buy some high-bulk food (“gotta gain six ponds by tomorrow, Dad….I need to wrestle at 119 ‘cause I think I can take that kid tomorrow”). He also took (GASP) his OWN MONEY to fill up his tank. Maybe he’ll stop by Blockbuster to get that video. This flurry of activity outside our humble domicile is not typical of Mike. But then again, he too has become powerless.

My lovely wife, Diane, went upstairs some time ago to put our bedroom in order. She emerged just now, accompanied by Dan and Herbie (errr...I mean Mikey) with black Glad bags full of clothes for good will. I would help her, but I’ve suddenly felt the return of contentment in my life during this brief moment, and finally found the inspiration to post my first full blog entry. Life is good when you’re powerless.

The electric company says the power may not come back on until midnight. They can leave it off until Monday for all I care – I’m just glad to have my family back.