Read Between the Lines

The title and content of this post is based on a sermon I preached to Hilltop Christian Fellowship in Crawford, Texas, where I serve as Youth Pastor, on October 23, 2011.

Psalm 136

¹ Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good,
for his steadfast love endures forever.
² Give thanks to the God of gods,
for his steadfast love endures forever.
³ Give thanks to the Lord of lords,
for his steadfast love endures forever;

⁴ to him who alone does great wonders,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
⁵ to him who by understanding made the heavens,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
⁶ to him who spread out the earth above the waters,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
⁷ to him who made the great lights,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
⁸ the sun to rule over the day,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
⁹ the moon and stars to rule over the night,
for his steadfast love endures forever;

¹⁰ to him who struck down the firstborn of Egypt,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
¹¹ and brought Israel out from among them,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
¹² with a strong hand and an outstretched arm,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
¹³ to him who divided the Red Sea in two,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
¹⁴ and made Israel pass through the midst of it,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
¹⁵ but overthrew Pharaoh and his host in the Red Sea,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
¹⁶ to him who led his people through the wilderness,
for his steadfast love endures forever;

¹⁷ to him who struck down great kings,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
¹⁸ and killed mighty kings,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
¹⁹ Sihon, king of the Amorites,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
²⁰ and Og, king of Bashan,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
²¹ and gave their land as a heritage,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
²² a heritage to Israel his servant,
for his steadfast love endures forever.

²³ It is he who remembered us in our low estate,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
²⁴ and rescued us from our foes,
for his steadfast love endures forever;
²⁵ he who gives food to all flesh,
for his steadfast love endures forever.

²⁶ Give thanks to the God of heaven,
for his steadfast love endures forever.

In the leadership course I took in the Fall we learned a concept called “spillover.” It is a phenomenon where parts of one arena of life, like skills, information, and anxiety, are transferred to other areas. For example, people who are good note takers at work or school find that they catch all the pertinent information from a voicemail after the first listen and don’t have to repeat it four or five times to take everything down.  Though spillover can be positive, as it is in that example, it is easier to spot “negative spillover.” A colloquial example of negative spillover is a person having a rough day and kicking the cat when they get home.

I’ve often experienced spillover with my schoolwork. That was weird when I took algebra and cooking made me think of the FOIL method for solving equations, but it was just plain awkward when I took a Human Sexuality course in undergrad!

Thankfully, spillover in my classes comes in handy more often now that I’m in seminary. This fall I took classes in Old Testament, Hebrew, and leadership. In Scriptures 2 I studied Hebrew poetry and the Psalms, and I used that work to enhance my teaching and preaching in ministry. Hebrew class taught me vocabulary words, sentence structure, and how to read that language right-to-left. My leadership course was the most practical so far. I got instruction about subjects like how to conduct business meetings and learned about the spillover concept itself.

This blog, and the sermon it is based on, are products of spillover from my study of Psalm 136.

Psalm 136 tells the Sacred History, the story of the people of Israel. It is a psalm of thanksgiving that reminded the Hebrews of God’s creative wonders, how he spread out the earth and made the sun and moon. It tells how the Lord delivered them from oppression, parted the Red Sea, and cared for them in the wilderness during the exodus, and it praises him for defeating their enemies and giving them an inheritance in the Promised Land. This psalm is their story, and they found their identity between its lines. Christians join the people of Israel in this story as the spiritual descendants of Abraham (Romans 4:16).

If you just skimmed the psalm at the beginning of this post, I encourage you to go back and read it again as your own story. You and I are the people who God created, delivered, and blessed. We don’t look on the story of Israel dispassionately as the people of covenant faith before Jesus came. Regardless of our earthly ties of kinship to the Jewish people, or lack thereof, their story is ours because their God is ours and the salvation he worked for them prefigured the salvation Christ is working in us today.

As you read Psalm 136, it is easy to skip the refrain between the lines:

“for his hesed endures forever.”

When I read the refrain, it is that word, hesed, that my eyes a drawn to. It is a Hebrew word that has a range of meaning that is difficult to communicate in English. That’s why translators use several different words or phrases when translating it. In some popular translations this word is rendered “love,” “mercy,” “lovingkindness,” and “steadfast love,” but hesed is much more than any one of these. It also carries the idea of God’s loyalty, his firmness, trustworthiness, and consistency to meet the needs of his people. In Psalm 136 the Jewish people learned to read between the lines of their story to see God’s hesed at work. Thinking about this psalm, I realize that the hesed so prominent in the Sacred History surrounds all of us and it is a part of everything we experience.

Let me share a story to illustrate:

Early in October I discovered a need I’d had for a while. I wasn’t aware of it for so long that I don’t know how I lived without it. I discovered that I need a “study chair” upstairs in my bedroom. Yeah, we have a couch and two recliners in the living room, but I needed a study chair because I didn’t have any place to sit in my bedroom. Well, no place besides my desk chair.

Okay, so maybe I just wanted a study chair.

Much of the reason I wanted that chair was so I would have a special place to sit for studying and quiet time. I found that if I sat on the living room couch, where I watch TV, I got distracted. If I sat in bed, I got sleepy. So after sharing my “need” with my roommate, he sent me a link to a free chair on Craig’s List, and it was only missing two screws! Unfortunately someone else had picked it up by the time I contacted the owner. Later I contacted five different sellers on Craig’s List but got no responses, so I had almost given up until Marty sent this picture to my phone:

No, your eyes do not deceive you. It is sitting right next to a dumpster.

Now, besides the fact that the chair looked so disgusting that I was afraid to sit in it, it was exactly what I wanted in a study chair! So I brought it into the apartment and put it down in the kitchen/garage so I could wash my hands.

A couple of days later, while I was preparing some food on the other side of the kitchen, I realized that the chair has a story, and then I remembered that I have a story too.

In my life I see the story of a pudgy, introverted kid who was bullied when he was young. That kid grew up hearing about Jesus in church and learned that even if nobody else cared, God’s hesed endured. Eventually he came to see that God wanted to be involved in every detail of his life, and in the course of some events he recognized that God had called him to vocational ministry, beyond the already extraordinary call to discipleship and evangelism he places on every believer’s life. Mine is the story of a kid who grew in faith and began to serve God vocationally in college, a young man who began working with youth so he could show students the hesed of God, just as he had experienced it. It’s the story of a kid who was redeemed, and who can look back and see God’s hesed at work along the way. It’s the story of a man who shares in the story of God’s people through the ages.

When I was preparing my sermon on Psalm 136 I was really wrestling with some things in life, and I still am wrestling with a few of them. It was a very anxious time, and it took special effort to see God’s hesed.

Just as I struggled to keep my eyes focused on the hesed of God, Israel did too.

Adam didn’t trust God to meet his needs in the Garden.

Abraham didn’t trust God to give him a son.

Moses didn’t trust God to protect him from Pharaoh.

The Hebrews didn’t trust God when they forged a gold calf.

Israel and Judah didn’t trust God’s provision and went into exile.

Peter didn’t trust God when he walked on water.

The disciples didn’t trust God that Jesus would be raised on the third day.

But when they weren’t trusting God, these people weren’t reading God’s hesed between the lines. When we lack faith and choose to disobey God, it is because we’ve lost sight of his hesed, but the beauty of the story is that hesed is all over the place. Hesed is never out of reach. The creator God who took us out of Egypt and gave us the Promised Land is the same one who says today:

“For those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

and

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Yes, sometimes life spills over. That can be a good thing when Hebrew homework helps with sermon preparation, but spillover can be a bad thing when a family member’s health problems put you 60 Hebrew vocabulary words behind. When we face negative spillover, it can be hard to see God’s hesed between the lines of the story.

We all have a story. We all need hesed. Today the chair sitting up in my room doesn’t look like the one Marty found out by the dumpster. I’m not afraid to sit in it any longer because they make hesed for furniture. It’s called Resolve furniture cleaner.

Three-quarters of a bottle of Resolve, some time, scrubbing, and a little hesed can go a long way:

This chair has a story. It’s been through some rough things, and now it is a testament to me. When I see that chair, when I sit in it, and when I smell the Resolve in it, I think of hesed.

Where do you see hesed in your life?

Advent 2011

I’ve planned to write an Advent blog all year. Advent was one of the first topics I wrote about on this blog, and it is something I intentionally paid attention to as the season drew near this year. At the beginning of Advent I aspired to write a blog every week for the four weeks of the season, following the themes of the 2011 Buckner Advent Guide: Hope, Peace, Love, and Joy. In fact, I even started one on Hope, but I never finished or published it.

The reason I never finished or published that blog, simply titled “Advent Hope,” is because I was waiting. Now that I am taking time to think about Advent and my experience participating in it for the first time this year, I realize that Advent ought to have been a very easy thing for me to practice. But I was so busy working, and stressing, and waiting that I never took time to wait.

Let me explain:

I was waiting for the semester to end. My studies at Truett Seminary have been challenging and demanding of my time. When the semester ended I was surprised as I remembered all the things I had placed on hold under the pressure of my studies.

When the semester ended and I went to work on the obligations, responsibilities, and jobs I had been waiting to do, I quickly realized that rest would have to wait until I went home to visit my parents for Christmas. After 72 hours of resting at home, now I am writing about waiting.

At the midpoint of the semester my mother had a second heart attack, similar to the one she had at the midpoint of the spring 2011 semester. Since then I have been waiting for news about her health, and now I wait for her surgery at the beginning of January. To those who have prayed and are praying, thank you. I know that it is because of your prayers that her condition has been manageable, and because of your prayers I have been able to hold things together this fall.

Since July my church has been without a pastor, and like all congregations, both members and staff have had an important role in the upkeep and ongoing ministry of the church during the interim. This season has been taxing for me, and I have waited eagerly while our committee has searched for the leader God is preparing to fill that role.

I have waited. Still I wait.

Advent is a season of waiting, a season of eager anticipation and groaning for the Christ to come, both in remembrance of Jesus’ miraculous incarnation two millennia ago and of our present waiting for his return. A season of waiting for the culmination of creation as our great God makes all things new.

I was waiting for the semester to end. I was waiting to go home and rest. I am waiting for my mother’s surgery. I am waiting for a new pastor to be installed at my church. I’ve learned a lot about waiting in 2011, and these last few days of Advent I will focus my waiting on something bigger than my concerns and those of my family. I will wait for the coming of Jesus. My waiting will be marked by hope, peace, love, and joy.

I will wait eagerly because I know the promise of life he gave me is a sure thing. I do not hope as the world hopes, merely wishing for my hope to be realized. My hope is in a sure promise, a “living hope” as 1 Peter 1:3 says.

Peace is the gift of God given to the faithful. We are a people of peace in a world torn by war, physical and spiritual. Yet I follow the Prince of Peace and ever aspire to be like him. The absence of peace in my world spurs me to work for peace, and the absence of peace in parts my life causes me to wait for the peace God brings in his coming.

Love is the gift I have been given, and it is the gift I share, knowing that my experience is only a shadow of the love that I will know when he comes. So I wait, but not idly. Every day I will love because in my loving I paint a picture for our world that is absent of sure hope, of real peace, and of the love that surpasses understanding.

Joy is beyond a happy feeling, it is an abiding presence in my life because I have received grace, the gift of the Son, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. My joy transcends circumstance and is better described as a state of being than an emotional response. I have joy for the gifts I have received, but especially for the gifts that are promised. The Scriptures promise that a great renewal is coming. It will not be an obliteration of creation but the renovation and recreation of heaven and earth. God is doing something new. Just as the Old Testament took a turn in the New because of Christ’s coming, so I wait for love to come again, bringing peace and fulfilling hope.

I have waited. Still I wait.

Black Friday

What is “Black Friday” really about? Yes, it’s the busiest shopping day of the year, and all the retailers in the country mark down prices in anticipation of making a profit during a recession, but what is this day really about? Is Black Friday really about Christmas giving? Is it about our love for family, friends, and neighbors, who we spend ridiculous amounts of money on? Or is it really about materialism, consumerism, capitalism, and narcissism?

In the United States we place the highest value in the things we own. The sooner we own up to that, the better. Even those of us who strive all our lives to overcome our society’s obsession with the latest and greatest [insert: Apple product, vehicle, cell phone, clothing label, or a million other things] still find ourselves coveting our neighbor’s house, spouse, administrative assistant, sports car, freakishly athletic children, freakishly green-in-the-middle-of-the-worst-drought-in-seventy-years yard, or a host of other things. It doesn’t make a difference whether you are accumulating to keep up with the Joneses, to live the comfortable life you never had, or to provide that comfortable life for your own family. Black Friday is a celebration of this behavior.

Maybe the strongest evidence for the death grip of Black Friday on our society is the fact that I’m writing a Black Friday blog today, and I didn’t write a Thanksgiving blog yesterday.

And as a person who just got the latest and greatest smart phone as an early Christmas present two days ago, I’m talking to myself here too. It doesn’t matter how much schoolwork, ministry, networking, or any other “good use” I put that thing to, the fact is, I’m pretty proud of it, and my friends will soon attest to that because I’m going to show this baby off when I get back to Waco!

Maybe you still haven’t bought into the premise that Black Friday isn’t really about giving. I understand that. On the surface it seems that the entire point of this fictional holy-day is Christian Christmas charity, but I just don’t buy it (no pun intended). Not in a culture in which “retail therapy” is an accepted pseudo-scientific concept. Not when people have literally died trying to elbow other people out-of-the-way so they can get the last toy on the shelf for their spoiled child who would rather play with the box and wrapping paper anyway. Not in a country where stores hire extra security, not because of shoplifting, but for crowd control. Not in a place where people camp on the frozen sidewalk in the middle of winter for a new camera. Black Friday is the commercialization of Christmas without the love and care of the commercialization of Valentine’s Day.

When people come home, battered and exhausted, from prowling through Best Buy like jackals, they won’t talk about how excited they are to give their nieces and nephews the video game or DVD they have been talking about for months, they will brag to their families about how they got the best deal, or the last one on the shelf.

When employees come home, battered and exhausted, from dealing with selfish, impatient, and ungrateful “patrons” they won’t talk to their families about the “joy of giving.” They will share the worst stories of their day and ridicule the bozo who dropped his 87” flat screen in the parking lot while trying to lift it into the back of his truck without any help, “I mean, it says ‘TEAM LIFT’ right on the box!” Or worse, they will feel sorry that they didn’t get the day off so they could run around like animals scavenging for a sale.

In all honesty, I hope the employees who work on Black Friday DON’T keep Christ in Christmas. Not if Black Friday is what Christmas is all about.

There is no way to reconcile Black Friday with Christmas. The manger and the stable stand in the starkest contrast to the values of American culture. Jesus is the costliest gift from the Father, one that cannot be replicated with iPads or Xboxs. The Maji’s gifts were once in a lifetime symbols to the Christ child, given in reverence to a king, not to greedy children. The Christmas tradition of gift giving has certainly been corrupted, but I don’t believe it is beyond repair.

If you have or are going out on this Black Friday, I pray that you carry the presence of Christ with you as you go. You have an incredible opportunity to demonstrate his love to our culture on this day in the way you shop. And as crazy as you are, it makes me happy to see some of you talking on Facebook about making it a day out with family. I hope their company is a blessing to you, and a reminder not to get wrapped up in the foolishness of this worldly web of greed and covetousness.

This Christmas season, let’s all  be more intentional about the way we celebrate, and what we celebrate. Give as a person made in the image of God, the giver of the greatest gift. Give in love, but also in moderation. We do not honor God or one another by going into debt. Make your greatest gift the gift of yourself. Be like Christ in that way as you spend time with family, friends, and neighbors, and reach out to those outside your circle. Not everyone is blessed to have people like you in their lives.

I want to leave you with a video that a friend shared with me a couple of weeks ago. At the time I honestly didn’t like watching it, and it is still difficult for me to see because it challenges our culture. But sometimes it’s good to be uncomfortable.

Divine Mystery

One of the most helpful books I read early in my faith journey was C.S. Lewis’ The Screwtape Letters. In some ways it revolutionized the way I understand my faith, and some of the concepts I gleaned from it continue to affect me profoundly years later. One of these is the knowledge that God exists entirely differently than I do in relation to time. Taken from the twenty-seventh chapter, this is how uncle Screwtape puts it:

You must remember that he [the "patient," or tempted human] takes Time for an ultimate reality. He supposes that the Enemy [God], like himself, sees some things as present, remembers others as past, and anticipates others as future; or even if he believes that the Enemy does not see things that way, yet, in his heart of hearts, he regards this as a peculiarity of the Enemy’s mode of perception…[in reality] creation in its entirety operates at every point of space and time…for the Enemy does not foresee the humans making their free contributions in a future, but sees them doing so in His unbounded Now.” (The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis, pp. 149-150)

Thus, Lewis describes God as existing beyond time and space, in the “unbounded Now” as Lewis puts it. Human perception is starkly limited when it attempts to conceive of an existence unhindered by these realities. The idea that God experiences the totality of time all at once, while maintaining such a distance from it that he is not contingent on it, is impossible for me to perceive without the help of very simple metaphors. I often attempt to communicate this concept spatially by saying that God exists “outside of” time. Lewis’ characterization of God in these terms stems from the traditional understanding of God as omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. This God stands entirely outside the system of creation he has made, though in intimate contact with it (neither Lewis or I am a deist). Because of this, much of God is simply incomprehensible to any human, and that is a fact that I embrace more and more as I grow in my faith. It creates in me a profound sense of awe and spurs me to theological reflection.

For example, considering that Christ entered into time in the incarnation helps me understand a small part of the Greek concept of kenosis (“emptied” in NASB and NRSV; “nothing” in NIV and ESV) in Philippians 2:7. In becoming human, Christ took on the constriction of experiencing time moment-by-moment rather than holistically.

Acknowledging that God is beyond my comprehension helps me deal with a lot of questions, like “What will it look like to spend eternity with God in heaven?” The short answer is “I don’t really know, but I’m sure we won’t be bored and that worshiping God forever won’t get old.” To those who might scoff at the idea that doing the same thing for millions of years would not get tiresome, I say, “First of all, you have too narrow a view of the majesty of almighty God. And second, who is to say that when God recreates the earth eschatologically our experience of time will not be altered as well?” But ultimately, I trust in God’s divine attributes, and that when heaven is described, God isn’t just talking about the first five minutes we will spend there.

Now, time is only one example of how God’s fundamental “otherness” ensures that mystery is a basic fact of Christian faith. Faith in divine mystery also helps relieve some of the tension in particularly difficult questions about theodicy and the problem of evil. If I understand that God experiences time holistically and is indeed eradicating evil eschatologically, then the question of “What about the pain of the present?” is deflated a bit because it is not as if God is standing by while evil continues unabated. And who is to say that the present “evilness” in the world is the worst possible evil to begin with? It is very well possible that God has already acted within creation, and in response to prayer, to limit evil to this level, rather than allow it to continue unabated to an extent that is far beyond our own imagining. If we truly believe in Total Depravity, whether as Calvinists or as Classical Arminians, is it not apparent that the world would be much worse without the grace of God (common or prevenient) to limit the evil, and power to manifest that evil, in every human soul?

These are just a few examples that, hopefully, help illustrate the concept I am trying to communicate. In the end, some might say I am intellectually weak or unwilling to wrestle with the deep or disconcerting aspects of my faith, but I prefer to think I am becoming more in touch with the substantial element of mystery that is essential to faith in Christ.

There are plenty of things about Christianity that seem paradoxical, not the least of which is the incarnation of Christ, whereby God becomes a man who experiences death, only to recover life and even improve on the physical limitations of corporeal flesh after rotting for three days in a tomb. The point is, some of this stuff cannot be fully understood. Like it or not, that is simply a fact. And personally, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Someone wise once said (and the idea has been plagiarized enough that I won’t bother quoting a particular individual), “I don’t want to believe in a God that I can wrap my mind around; because if I can wrap my mind around God, then God isn’t really ‘God’ at all.”

But God is God, and I am not. He’s bigger than me, and he’s good, so I don’t have to understand him. I only have to trust. To have faith. Thankfully, that is all he requires. Come what may, I know all of this will work out in the end.

‘Christian’ Movie Messages?

The summer movie season has arrived, and it promises to be full of action, drama, comedy and much more. But if I may be so bold, I would remind Christian movie goers that it will NOT be packed with “Christian” messages. No matter how much you want him to be, Captain America is not a metaphorical representation of Jesus, and neither is Thor.

Now before I continue I want to give you a disclaimer: I’m a shallow movie goer. Anybody who knows me well knows that I watch movies to be entertained, to rest my brain in a gelatinous state, and to watch big explosions and epic adventure storylines unfold, as well as chuckle at simple and witty, but not crude, humor. It is very rare that I enjoy a movie that tries to make me think. Perhaps this is poor of me, but deep down it’s probably because I don’t think the movie industry has any business delivering philosophical, much less theological, platitudes. I don’t intend to rain on your parade if you like dramatic or cerebral movies, but be forewarned, I don’t place much stock in them.

Allow me to illustrate my perspective with some examples. I will start with the movie I watched last night. Faster, starring Dwayne Johnson and Billy Bob Thornton, is an almost perfect example of the type of movie I enjoy. A simple storyline with strong characters, and despite the twist, you know who the good guys and bad guys are. The plot is about unstoppable power of revenge (the lead role is shot in the head three times during the movie and never dies). Our hero is a bank-robbing ex-con who sets out to avenge the murder of his brother immediately after he gets out of prison. In essence, it is a Hollywood archetype and a textbook case of how postmodern values tout truly awful human beings as heroes who redeem themselves, at least as far as the plot is concerned, by killing even more awful people.

The point of contact between Faster and this post comes at the climax of the movie where the final person Johnson’s character has set out to kill pleads for his life. This man was present during the original murder, but he was horrified by it. After that event the man was imprisoned for another crime, realized his calling as a minister, and began leading tent revivals off the highway in some dusty California desert. In essence, he is the epitome of Hollywood’s stereotypical Christian minister. Johnson’s character has listened to the man’s radio broadcasted sermons on forgiveness throughout the movie when we learn that he is one of the men on the hit list. The protagonist slips into the back of the tent revival and his presence causes the minister to end the stereotypical swooning service early and meet with him in the back. The minister’s wife and adopted child make an appearance before the two men go out back to do the deed. At that point the minister pleads for his life by appealing to the goodness deep within Johnson’s character (he apparently doesn’t hold to a belief in total depravity) and his conviction that people can change with the power of forgiving others, and perhaps a little help from God. In a climactic moment, Johnson’s character fires his gun over the minister’s shoulder, and the man, now on his knees with eyes closed and embracing his fate after forgiving his soon-to-be murderer, falls to the ground. He is freed and told to go be with his family. Johnson’s character has been changed. He will not seek vengeance any longer, and coincidentally, this was the last man on his list, so giving into forgiveness is pretty easy once you’ve already taken vengeance.

But then we get the plot twist. This wasn’t the last person he needed to kill. The climactic scene might have been his moment of forgiveness, but the triumphant event is him returning to shoot that final man in the head, completing his task. The movie ends with Johnson’s character driving away in peace, and without any remorse for what he has done. The “Christian” message of forgiveness that some surely lauded in this movie when it opened back in November is one of convenience. Once you’ve finished being bad, then you should be good. Revenge is still a legitimate form of justice. Only forgive those who only seemed to hurt you, but didn’t really. Christians are deluded people who believe that the guilty should not be punished. Christianity is only one avenue to becoming a good person among many, and it involves a foolish moral system, even if it requires sincere and heartfelt belief. It was a slap in the face to me to realize that God was barely mentioned in the minister’s plea to forgive, and the only time Jesus is referenced is during the minister’s pre-faith exclamation of horror at the original murder.

Less you discount the example of Faster, which is admittedly not a blockbuster movie, as a fluke, consider the exceedingly popular and disgustingly overt movie The Book of Eli. This January 2010 release, starring Denzel Washington and Mila Kunis, is the story of a blind man in a post-apocalyptic United States who is delivering the last remaining bible to the West Coast as a part of his divine commission. Despite the presence of a man who memorizes the entire bible, follows what seems to be a genuine calling from God, and has a sincere conversion-type experience, this movie was not Christian at all. Even so, a number of popular, young, Christian preachers lauded the Christian message of this movie, including one or two who I am quite fond of.

In contrast to their words of blind praise, I would characterize the “Christian” message of The Book of Eli as one that revolves around a conviction that the power of religion, even if that religion involves veneration of genuine deity, is primarily to control others. The anti-hero wants to use the power of religion to control the community he leads, and he believes he needs a bible to do that. Washington’s character looks a lot more like an Old Testament mighty man than a Christ follower who has experience the grace of God and the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. In the end his life is changed, but rather than trusting in Christ, he says he will listen to the words of the book to do them, and this simply implies that he will stop hacking people up with a machete and soften his heart toward others. As a result, it is a story that smears institutional religion in favor of individual moralistic obedience, not faith and reliance on Christ that leads to genuine community, love, and missional activity. The movie closes with the bible having been preserved but placed on a shelf alongside other religious texts, as having equal standing, and the final scene is of an inspired proselyte, played by Kunis, going back out into the bad world to deliver some more justice.

So what about the flurry of “Christian” movies that have cropped up in recent years? With the notable exceptions of the Narnia movies, the first thing I would say is that I’ve found the “Christian” movies I’ve seen to be cheesy, stereotypical, poorly produced, and poorly acted out. I have not watched Fireproof, To Save a Life, or Soul Surfer, so I cannot speak for them, but I was disgusted and sincerely disappointed by Facing the Giants. Before critiquing it, I will say it had two strikes against it to start with: it was a sports movie, and I loathe sports movies, and it was also a fictional story, which means that it could have done a MUCH better job with the message. In the end I decided that Facing the Giants had a lot less in common with the gospel of salvation than it did with the gospel of prosperity. God acts like a genie. When you become a Christian, then God blesses you and gives you whatever you want—he restores your family relationships, heals your wife’s infertility, gives you a new pickup to pay taxes and insurance on, and even helps you win private high school football games. In addition, God also punishes those who cheat, because sinners never prosper. In even its best light, this is a simplistic Deuteronomistic message that picks and chooses from the broader context of scripture. My last hope for the movie died when the football team didn’t lose the championship. There was absolutely no negative consequence that a Christian had to endure in the movie. They just had to pray and wait for God to grant their wishes. That God is too small.

Considering the poor, and even heterodox, theology in at least some “Christian” movies, maybe the best direction to go would be to lift a story directly from the bible and put it on the screen, and it is arguable to say this is what Mel Gibson attempted to do with The Passion of the Christ. I say “attempted” because I do not believe Gibson succeeded, for a number of reasons. First of all, the movie was rated “R” because it was a graphic and violent movie about death. While the crucifixion was at least as violent and terrible as Gibson portrayed it, and while this shock value is important because it has the potential to remind Christians of what Christ suffered for them, I am not certain that it was the best decision that could have been made. Ultimately, the entire salvific purpose of Christ’s death is assumed by the movie, and is not even alluded to. Anyone who did not grow up being told that Jesus died for their sins, and that the physical torture Jesus endured is only a fraction of what we deserve for every sin we commit would be completely lost in the movie. Gibson chose to occasionally pepper in superfluous scenes to humanize Jesus, as with the one where he shows Mary the raised table he built, rather than to show him preaching radical repentance and discipleship. In the end we literally get only one second in the movie to remind us that Jesus did not remain dead in the tomb, senselessly slaughtered by people who rejected him, when his feet hit the ground on Easter morning. Nobody walked out of that movie understanding that Christ loved them enough to go through that torture for them that did not know it when they went in. The movie obviously didn’t do Mel Gibson a lot of good either, considering the direction his life has taken, so I think the caution of many Christians is justified when they are very careful about how they think about and share that movie with others.

The best movies I have seen that could approximate a “Christian” message are the children’s movies produced by Disney, Pixar, and Dreamworks. At their best, these movies have honestly good and honestly bad characters, clear character development, and honest positive change in the characters that is not reversed by the closing scenes of the movies. But ultimately, they are only able to deliver “Christian moral values” and healthy behaviors, not the gospel message of salvation and life change on the basis of Christ alone and not the actions of a well-meaning individual. These messages have the potential for good, but they also have the power to give false hopes and expectations to children about how life can be, rather than acknowledging the evil of a world without Christ. This is not to say that all children should be exposed to the complexity of the gospel message when they are young, but it cannot be denied that stories in children’s movies are told through rose-colored lenses.

This is the pattern I see in our movies: People desire justice and a savior. It has less to do with the entertainment industry than it does with the human condition. Movies and stories that tap into that desire strike a chord in the very essence of what it means to be human in a sinful world full of sinful people. They enliven us with the hope of a world or existence that is better than ourselves. Thus, when movies tell their stories, they bear witness to the fallen human condition, not to the savior who comes to redeem it.

So this is what it comes down to for me, we place a lot of impossible expectations on our entertainment when we expect it to bear a “Christian” message. The Gospel is too big for film, even the “old” Jesus video, which is based on the text of Luke and is still used as a missionary tool around the world. The Jesus video must be coupled with proverbial boots on the ground to interpret and expand its message for each audience. Even the Scriptures themselves are interpreted, contextualized, and preached to congregations. All types of media can be great tools, but they are only tools. The Holy Spirit working in Christian lives is the only way the “Christian message” can be brought to others. So when you go out this summer and watch movies, discern the message they are teaching and be sure it is the true gospel. Recognize the limits of the theatrical medium to proclaim that message, and share what you learn with the community. Or better yet, take it for what it is—a movie whose purpose is to entertain, not to teach in its own right. Have a good night, hold fast to what is good, and let the rest of it roll off your back.

Most of all, quit telling me to go watch movies because they have a “Christian message” if the characters don’t act like and say that they love Jesus Christ!

A Different Type of Coup

Today is Good Friday and this week is Holy Week this week, so it seems especially appropriate to write about the person of Christ and his mission in the world. I am also writing because I had the opportunity to deliver a sermon this Sunday at my church when my pastor was out of town. For Palm Sunday I thought it was appropriate to preach on the Triumphal Entry, and by a happy coincidence the Lectionary passage for the day was the same text I chose, Matthew 21:1-11. This entry is based on the research and notes I used to prepare that sermon in addition to my own reflection and application; thus, I cannot take full credit for all of the thoughts and insights. I used a number of commentaries which, if you want to be cruel and charge me with plagiarism, I would be willing to go find and cite here.

“A Different Type of Coup”

I have few memories of Palm Sunday, in fact, I can only think of one. As a child I attending a non-liturgical Baptist church, I never truly celebrated Palm Sunday, though I learned the story of the Triumphal Entry in Sunday School. However, some of my extended family is Roman Catholic, and my family would always join my aunt, uncle, and cousins after we got out of Church on Sunday to eat lunch together. Because Calvary Baptist Church holds strongly to its Baptist roots, we always ended our services by 11:30am so that we would have plenty of time to beat the other denominations to China Buffet, but my family, of course, always ended up waiting in the parking lot, or sneaking in for the last few minutes of Mass instead of taking advantage of our head start.

One of the days we snuck into the back of Mass was Palm Sunday. I remember seeing the palm fronds held by everyone and experiencing both perplexity and envy that I did not have one to wave myself! I was perplexed because I did not know what a palm branch looked like. The nearest North Texas equivalent in my mind was yucca! I was also confused when someone told me what these branches were for. I’m sure it was a more nuanced answer than I remember, but all I took away from that conversation was “We wave them for Jesus!” Needless to say, my understanding of Palm Sunday and the traditions involved in celebrating that day have grown since my youth.

The Triumphal Entry, which is commemorated by Christians on Palm Sunday, was an event that took place when Jesus entered Jerusalem for the first time during the Passover season, roughly one week before his crucifixion. The Passover season brought thousands upon thousands of visitors to the holy city, and with them came a great deal of Messianic expectation. The Passover celebration lends itself to this hope for an anointed deliverer-king.  It commemorates the events of the Exodus, the formative experience for the people who would become the nation of Israel.  And this particular Passover coincided with the climax of Jesus’ earthly ministry.

In the story, Jesus sent his disciples to procure a donkey for him to ride into Jerusalem. Though it was not uncommon for individuals to ride donkeys into the city, Jesus had always traveled on foot, so the question is begged, “Why did Jesus send his disciples to fetch a donkey?” The answer is found in Matthew’s quotation of “the prophet”:

“Say to Daughter Zion,
‘See, your king comes to you,
gentle and riding on a donkey,
and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”

Commentators write that this is a combination and adaptation of two different Old Testament passages. Primarily Zechariah 9:9, with some influence from Isaiah 62:10-12. A characteristic of Matthew’s writing style is drawing his readers’ attention to events in the narrative where Jesus fulfills prophecy.  Thus, Jesus is not riding a colt into Jerusalem because he has become wary by the time he reaches Bethpage and cannot make the rest of the trip on foot, but he is intentionally fulfilling a messianic prophesy. The instructions Jesus gives to his disciples reveal a little of what is meant by his action.

In verse 3 Jesus says, “If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.” In the Greek text of this passage, the word used for “Lord” is κύριος (kurios). There are a number of uses for this word. It could refer to the master of a slave, or it could be the term used by a subject in relation to his or her king. However, this is also the word used by the translators of the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible, to refer to the divine name of God, Yahweh. I agree with most commentators that when Jesus gives his instruction to the disciples, he is the “Lord” that needs them, and his lordship is based on his divine nature, and thus, his ownership of all creation. Evidently Bible translators agree, because they capitalize “Lord” in the English.

Jesus’ transcendent ownership of the donkeys is also reflected in his choice to ride the colt. In all likelihood, this colt had not been ridden before, so Jesus riding this animal into a crowded city, surrounded by noise and hysteria was most certainly a supernatural feat.

Beyond these things, other insights about the significance of the Triumphal Entry can be made with a close examination of Scripture and textual materials.

In 1 Kings 1:32-37, when Solomon is anointed king over Israel in the place of David, he rides a donkey, the traditional mount for royalty in times of peace.

In 2 Kings 9:13, when Jehu takes the throne, the people lay down their garments before him when he ascends the stairs.

Palm branches also feature in the story of Simon Maccabaeus, who led a religious and political rebellion against Greek authority during the intertestamental period.  The people of Jerusalem cut down palm branches for him after he liberated Jerusalem. This is recorded in two of the Apocryphal texts, 1 Maccabees 13:51 and 2 Maccabees 10:7.

When Jesus enters the city, he is greeted by cries of “Hosanna,” a Hebrew word that originally was the verb for “save,” but by the time of these events, its meaning had been reduced to something more along the lines of a divine “hurrah!” or “Glory to God!” Even so, I think you will agree with me that it is appropriate that the people would call out for Jesus to save them, even if they did not fully comprehend their need for a savior, and even if they did not understand their need for salvation from a far more oppressive regime than the Roman Empire.

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord” is a quote from Psalm 118:26, a psalm associated with Passover, and “son of David” is an explicitly messianic title. Combining the underlying meaning of the crowd’s acclamation with their actions, one gets the message very clearly that Jesus is perceived as a candidate for the Messiah. The whole city is “stirred up,” a word which, in the Greek, can also describe an earthquake. In short, these people want a coup.

However, at this point in the gospel narrative there is a quiet transition from the joyous shouts of celebration and frenzied conversation about this powerful prophet from a backwoods town in Galilee to refocus on the acts of Jesus himself. Of course, the story is about Jesus, not the crowd, but even so, the absence of action is tangible. These zealous Jews shout “Hosanna!” and wave palm fronds for one day, but they do nothing to make their messiah king of their lives. I must pose the question to myself and to you. Are we the sort of people that will proclaim Christ in a crowd, surrounded by people of like mind, but are silent and inactive in the face of opposition? Are we those who would call for a revolution but be unwilling to bring about the change we desire, in our lives and others?

Many people in the crowd on the day Jesus entered Jerusalem were also in the crowd on Good Friday.

The truth of the matter is that Jesus is a different type of king, saving in a different type of way, leading a different type of coup.

Jesus’ triumph is over sin, and his victory is won on a cross. He is riding a donkey instead of a warhorse, and his first act of revolution in God’s holy city is to cleanse the temple. “Hosanna” turned to “crucify him” when the crowd didn’t get the freedom they were looking for.

Palm Sunday is a celebration, but also a sober reminder. This is a Good Friday for revolution to begin. Will you join the rebel-Christ?

An Honest Day’s Work

How long has it been since you’ve done an honest day’s work? I don’t mean “How long has it been since you’ve been had a legitimate, legal occupation?” How long has it really been since you did a little manual labor, got dirty, and felt the relief that comes when the grime is washed off in the shower at the end of the day? I don’t get that very often. The only times I’ve ever had a steady job where manual labor was involved were during a couple of summers in high school. Since I graduated, I’ve worked in a radio station, churches, and now a library as well.

Now, perhaps I am feeling a little nostalgic about the simple summer days before I lived on my own, paid any bills, or had any real obligations, but deep down I just know that doing real, hard work is something good, something satisfying, something fulfilling, something many of us have lost in life today.

Here is what I mean, right now I am a full-time seminary student, part-time youth minister, and reference library assistant in the work study program. The seminary is completely academic. The only time I’m not using my cognitive faculties while I’m there is when I walk up stairs to class or relax between classes with friends. At the church I teach Bible studies, lead games, prepare and run song lyrics on the projector, share Scripture readings, and offer public prayers. In the library, my primary responsibility is to assist other students with their research or help them find resources on their own. I also do some simple tasks like replenish printer paper, reshelf books, and occasionally help set up book displays or answer phones.

In other words, none of the things I do includes real work where my progress or accomplishment can be measured physically. Even when I put a whole cart of books back in the stacks or set up a new book display, I know that I am only a cog in an endless process where students mechanically pull books, leave them on tables, others categorize them, and I put them back on the shelf. Most of the time I am happy and content to do this type of work. I never go home sore after delivering a sermon, and even when I’m sent across two libraries and three floors to retrieve a full cart of books, I am never so tired when I get home that I fall asleep on the couch out of exhaustion. I enjoy studying theology and learning more about my faith, but sometimes I just feel the need to get dirty. On the days when I worked calves on my uncle’s farm and ranch (administering immunizations, applying brands, ear tags, and performing other less appetizing duties), I  came home covered in dirt, grime, and bovine excrement, but I was also able to look at a corral full of steers and heifers that would grow up and become incredible steaks, leather belts, and all manner of valuable and useful items. I built a camaraderie with my uncle and cousins on those days when we worked hard and came home knowing, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that we had done hard, honest work.

You cannot underestimate the value of knowing that you’ve been successful in a task, and in ministry, as in many other occupations, the work is never done. There is always more work, more people, and more study left at your desk when you drive home, and sometimes waiting at home when you get there or making your cell phone buzz like a beehive in springtime as you pull out of the parking lot. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade ministry for the world, but sometimes I just want to experience the satisfaction that a construction worker feels when he passes by a bank he laid stones and mortar to build from a weedy patch of dirt.

As I’ve considered these desires over the years, I’ve thought back to the curse in Genesis.

“cursed is the ground because of you;
in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life;
thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you;
and you shall eat the plants of the field.
By the sweat of your face
you shall eat bread,
till you return to the ground,
for out of it you were taken;
for you are dust,
and to dust you shall return.”

Genesis 3:17b-19 (ESV)

Tosca Lee, in her novel Havah: The Story of Eve, writes a moving description of the curse placed on Cain after he murdered his brother. She describes the mark on his head as causing any person who sees it to vividly remember the most shameful thing they’ve ever done, and it made him restless. He is forever a wanderer, not ever satisfied or able to stay in one place for too long. When Cain appears later in the story, he is only able to visit for a short time before he feels propelled to leave again.

I think that this same idea of an inward propulsion can be applied to the curse on Adam. To be sure, Adam and Eve worked in the garden together, but it was not work as we understand it today. They were doing what they were made to do. Serving their creator by caring for his creation. When they sinned and received the curse, work became arduous. The land rebelled against the order and care Adam brought to it in his cultivation, and in the end it swallowed his lifeless body. That is a sorry image, but just as the curse on Cain consumed him, altering his identity, so the curse to work the land for food is applied to people today. We are drawn to work, and our lives are incomplete and unfulfilled without a task to set our hands to.

We live in a society and participate in an economy in the United States where our occupations are not physical by and large. Americans live in suburbs and drive to buildings in cities where they sit behind computers and “work” on almost imaginary electronic documents, databases, websites, stock markets and so on. Though most businesses employ people whose responsibilities include, either partially or largely, physical labor, I cannot think of a single example where every individual eats bread by the sweat of his or her face. This sort of imaginary work is not evil inherently by any stretch, but I can only wonder if it contributes to the systemic stress and depression of our populace. The “simple life” may offer less security and responsibility. It may not require decades of education or gifted oration to plow and put seeds in the ground, but when the day is done, when the wheat springs forth from the earth more brilliantly than any Astroturf, when the cattle leave the pen in a cloud of dust, when you lay down at night and don’t need a pill to shut your eyes, I have to wonder if it would be worth it.

Okay, so I’m a romantic, and maybe a little bit of a hypocrite. I probably won’t ever take over my family’s farmland or raise Brangus and Hereford cattle, so what do I do with this primal need to work with my hands and acknowledge the curse? For me, that often takes place when I do my best to appreciate the church work days and youth service projects I help lead. It happens when I joyfully  carry boxes and furniture for my friends when they move. And in the future, when I have the space, I may start a garden, just as much to save money and have fresh vegetables as get dirty and pull weeds every once in a while. It’s healthy to do an honest day’s work. It’s cathartic, and it is one small way to acknowledge the plan God had when he made me a human being, placed me in his creation, and gave me the responsibility to care for it.