God’s Not Dead – the Review

April 23, 2016

GNDThe absolutely unscientific research I’ve done into the God’s Not Dead movie franchise suggests that most Christians think that it is the best thing since the “Left Behind” book series. This saddens me.

Nice is not a fruit of the Spirit, and I don’t intend to use it. So, for what it is worth, here is my review of God’s Not Dead.

Yes, I watched it. Last night. The first one, on Netflix, because I didn’t want to spend any money.

If you’re a Christian and you’ve enjoyed either of the God’s Not Dead tickets, you need to know that I don’t think less of you. I respect you as much as I ever have. No joke. The fact is that I would prefer you didn’t read this blog post. I’m afraid I may offend you, and I’d rather not. I would like to use nasty words to describe this film, and articulate my desire to burn the studio responsible for it to the ground, but I am worried that such language will alienate you and I, and destroy what little respect you may still have for me, after that meme I posted a couple weeks ago.

Having said that, I will do my best to make a reasoned case for my point of view. No promises.

In their 4-star review of this film, even Focus on the Family admitted that, “Pretty much everyone who’s not a Christian in this story is villainized for being mean, abusive, grouchy or narrow-minded. Several such sinners are condemned to either death or terminal illness, as if they’re being punished for their attitudes.” (http://www.pluggedin.ca/movie-reviews/gods-not-dead/) So much for the “Friend of Sinners” subplot in Jesus’ life.

I would add to this that most of the Christians are sugar and spice and everything nice, victims of persecution. But in the end of course they win, making sure we know that this is indeed about North American Christianity, because victory is a virtue here while losing has got to be one of the infamous Seven Deadly. The credits include a list of court cases that inspired the movie, giving an air of reality.

So, were the producers trying to paint a picture of what is, OR what should be? I was confused. Still am. Because a better movie could be made about Christian parents who abuse and kick out their homosexual kids, frightened pastor’s kids who get abortions because of their religious communities, and pagan intellectuals who understand that debate can come from a place of mutual respect. That would be just as close to reality. Let’s acknowledge kingdom values and have the well-groomed protagonist lose more than his bitchy girlfriend. It can be done.

Now let’s talk about persecution – one of the overwhelming themes of this show. Practically speaking, will opposition to the Christian message continue to increase in our society? Yes. Taking the big picture into consideration, have we experienced enough persecution to begin high-fiving one another? Oh, please. Here is today’s reality check. There is no systematic, state-sponsored persecution of Christians in North America. Period. Baking cakes and other such things do not count, people. Sure, there are uncomfortable hiccups, but in this movie’s credits where it lists all those real court cases, you’ll notice the judges regularly upholding the rights of believers.

Another thing. Every time a Christian needs help in this movie, they get a little sermon and a polite smile. Here is a partial list of problems, with the solutions given in the movie:

Q: God needs to be defended, but I’m scared.
A: Don’t disappoint God. Here are Bible verses to read.

Q: I got kicked out of my house for being a Christian.
A: Here’s some verses, we love you, and you’ll forget about your homelessness by the time you get to the Newsboys concert.

Q: The car won’t start.
A: God has other plans. Getting a rental car or a mechanic shows a lack of faith. You know the verses.

Q: I feel like my life’s work is pointless.
A: Repeat after me: “God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good.” Doesn’t that make you feel better?

I’ve said elsewhere that the people with the most profound impact on my life have been those who have had to live with dark questions for an extended period of time. There is no room for that reality in GND’s world.

In a nutshell, this movie is more concerned with being right than real. It mentions Jesus, but portrays a brand of Christianity that applauds pat answers more than action. It caricatures and alienates unbelievers. Providing a half-baked culturally relevant venue for preaching (to the choir) was obviously a higher priority than creating moving-picture art that would stimulate thinking and portray experiential High Truth. There are just as many cultural and political references to how Christians should vote, eat and clothe themselves as there are to Jesus himself. It represents everything I hate about the artificial, politically driven bubble we call Western Christianity (Christianism?).

I prefer the real life version. My mechanic is deeply involved in the lives of his employees, because of Jesus. My pastoral friends in the States minister to “the least of these”, for Jesus’ sake. My missionary friends eat with Muslims and Bhuddists and Hindus in places I can’t even publish, because no sacrifice is too great. My best friend hangs out with gay church kids and atheists who aren’t welcome in any religious homes. These are my heroes (many of whom appreciated this movie and laud those in the same genre.)

Sure, the protagonist in this movie is a hero of sorts, I guess. But his world simply doesn’t exist. Nor should it.

I suspect this film was popular because we like to have the underdog validated, especially when he’s fighting for our faith. Fair enough. If there are other reasons, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll skip the rest of the franchise and wait until someone has the balls to do another End of the Spear, Believe Me or The Passion – films that are more closely aligned with what we should aspire to.

Holy Emmanuel

April 17, 2016

Holy holy holy God we sing;
It means He’s separate, set apart. Everything
We know of him says he’s over there
High and lifted up. We’re down here
We abase ourselves.He’s not like us:
He’s righteous, we’re shadow; he’s forever, we’re dust.

And sometimes we feel in his holiness
Being set apart we believe he’ll miss
The fact that we need him here.
We wonder does the holy care?

Surrounded by angel armies there
Where there’s no darkness, and the air
Is filled with voices that sing unending
Praise to this ancient King,
Does He see us- that we’ve lost everything?

There are prophets that answered all these questions
When they wrote of the Holy pierced for our transgressions-
And foretold God come to earth as man.
We still ask whether the Holy can
Take in our pain and eat our sin,
Can the Holy taste death, would He rise again?

He did, and we call him Emmanuel!
Jesus stood between us and hell;
A king with a crown of thorns, God with a battered face-
That is holy love. This is holy grace:
To have Holy arms around us, nailed in place!
Three days later death lost its sting,
This is why Holy holy God we sing!

Breathe

April 3, 2016

Dear Self,

There are nights when you lay your head to rest, feeling like you’ve held your breath all day. Without being cognizant of it, you’ve subjected yourself to a slow emotional and spiritual suffocation – your soul choked off by the cares that come from simply existing.

So much time is spent critiquing your own worth. Have you sucked all the nectar out of this day? Were you a good enough husband, an employee that contributed well to the project and the team, a benevolent and patient father? What if you weren’t a good enough Christian today? Did you fail to communicate grace?

People are watching. Others are succeeding, and you feel that you should be able to as well. You need to do more. Achieve more. Be more.

Choke.

Sputter.

Gasp.

Consistent, purposeful breathing is essential for life, both physically and spiritually. It seems obvious, right? But I wonder if perhaps you’re not spiritually asthmatic. While the oxygen you need to sustain your soul is all around you, at times I feel as though you’ve been trying to suck it through a stir stick.

So here is my advice to you, self, when you start to turn blue.

First of all, don’t panic. Don’t fret. Running around like a caffeinated squirrel is not going to help. Stop for a second. (If you’re on the freeway, use an off ramp first, then stop for a second.) Seriously, physically, stop.

Now pray. Say something like, “Hi, God. I was just wondering if you’ve got the Earth spinning faster than normal?” His answer will probably be along the lines of, “Hi back! I love you. The Earth is just fine, thanks for asking.” It’s good to be reminded that everything doesn’t go atomic if you take a moment to get your poop in a group. The Apostle Paul wrote to the church in the city of Philippi, saying “…Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus…”

Doing this often has saved your sanity in the past, remember? It has opened your eyes to the ways that God’s patience and love is manifested all around you. Remember when God spoke to you as you took a moment to seek him during church today? He didn’t ask anything of you at all. He just wanted to remind you that he loves you! And then he helped you enjoy the rumble of that v-twin engine, good conversation, artery-clogging Mexican food, a playground filled with kids, buddies to chuck around a football (even though football has always intimidated you). You got wrapped up in your wife’s smile and the knowledge that your children feel safe and loved in your presence. And you had a nap.

…Each in its time…

…No rush…

…Beautiful…

I know that life isn’t easy, self, but it doesn’t have to be complicated, okay?

Just breathe.

Easter 2016

March 27, 2016

That first Easter morning, the only person able to remain calm was the guy who had been crucified and buried.

How is your psyche today? Time spent meditating on this weekend’s story of the Christ would be time well spent, I think. The stone wasn’t rolled away so that Jesus could leave his grave; it was set aside so that we could explore and believe, finding life and power and peace.

Friday the cross, Saturday the remnants of our old cold ways of worship, and Sunday the Unexpected – where do you find yourself?

 

Palm Sunday Poverty

March 20, 2016

If you read the story of Jesus in the Bible, there comes a time when he enters Jerusalem and is greeted with praises and fanfare. His reputation has gone before him. Willingness to heal the sick, encourage the marginalized and annoy the religious hoity-toities has made him the Prophet of the People, and they come out in droves to shout hosanna (literally “save, we pray”, but used as expression of adoration), spreading palm fronds and coats before him. We celebrate that moment – called the Triumphal Entry – on this day of the Christian calendar, Palm Sunday.

Part of my religious upbringing sat upon my shoulder in church this morning, whispering to me the importance of worshipful and praisey emotions while stabbing a pitchfork of guilt into my ear, because I wasn’t feeling the evangelical mojo.

On the other shoulder sat the grace of imagination, and with my Pastor’s help I transported myself back a couple thousand years so that I could partake in the original festivities. There I was, on the road to Jerusalem, the city reflecting my soul in so many ways. Pride and praise, infidel and religious, sacrifice and extortion, foreign armies in charge of way too much.

And Jesus weeping, loving, worthy of more than I have to give. Today I am the poor of Jerusalem, but somehow he comes for me too.

When the Prince of Peace approaches the city of your soul and you have very little with which to offer a decadent welcome, just put before him whatever is in your hands or on your back. Palm branches, coats and burdens pave the road for the coming of Messiah.

Lay yours down…

“…looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”
Hebrews 12:2 English Standard Version (ESV)

Dying Alive

March 5, 2016

Time is the leading cause of death. What the scientists say matters little – hot dogs might be a carcinogen and cutting down too many trees may eventually asphyxiate us all, but while we debate these things the clock remains relentless.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Enough years have passed in my life that I’ve had the opportunity to attend the funerals of a number of people that I’ve loved and admired. We celebrate their time and achievements, feeling the ache that their leaving has left. In life their very presence was catalytic, moving those around them to spaces of the heart and soul that would have otherwise remained unexplored.

There are other wakes, though, that haunt me. These are the moments when we remember people who shrivelled into themselves long before their passing. A positive spin is put on everything, propriety bestowing a last dignity upon a life that could have been more.

The question is, more what? Was something missing? Or perhaps emptiness wasn’t the problem, and their souls were actually too cluttered? It’s difficult to pinpoint, but there is no denying that some people’s eyes glaze over long before their plot is purchased.

To glean some answers I went to went to the field of wisdom known as Facebook, and asked some of you how our time on this spinning rock is best spent. Here is what you said, with a couple of my suggestions thrown in:

7 Essentials To Guarantee You’ll Be Alive When You Die

1. Be teachable. This is difficult when you presume to know everything. Too often we take our own opinions as facts, worship some fancy paper on the wall, or box ourselves in with our own notions of how the universe should be run and which direction the neighbour should be cutting his lawn. Being teachable allows us to walk through time without being overly sensitive and easily offended.

2. Smoke a cigar. Not literally, of course, unless you want you. The writer of Ecclesiastes said that “Whoever fears God will avoid all extremes,” and counselled that it is best to not be over righteous or too wicked. That’s not to say that one of my goals each day is to be a little bit wicked, but sometimes it’s as though I can’t help myself. Knowing that my character and my lungs are not yet totally pure keeps me humble before my Creator.

3. Be authentic. One of my most annoying acquaintances is unapologetically Calvinistic, which I define as unteachable, dogmatic, unshaven and fundamentalist, with all the baggage that usually accompanies such labels. He, on the other hand, has big words which he uses to describe my liberal tendencies. One thing I grudgingly admire about him is his authenticity. He is a true believer. Unshakeable.

The most intriguing people in my life are ridiculously passionate. Some talk about theology; others champion the right of women to wear functional and pretty sporting attire. Whatever you do, do it from the heart.

4. Risk. Some mothers scold their youngsters with, “Just because your friends jump off a bridge doesn’t mean you should too.” My mom, on the other hand, is usually the first to take the plunge. I can’t imagine a life without some risk. You can’t love without it. Steak is best served with it (at least a little pink, please). It isn’t an end in itself, mind you. Which brings us to number five.

5. Invest in Others. Authenticity, risk, humility, and balance are of very little benefit if they are employed to serve only yourself. You want people to weep tears of sadness instead of joy when you kick the bucket? Invest in them.

6. Practise dying. When we are placed in coffins it becomes clear that the value of our lives is measured in those who come to say goodbye. The problem is the extent of the sacrifice it took to get them all showing up on the same day. The good news is that we can train ourselves to die. Little choices every day add up, and when we choose others before ourselves, forgiveness before bitterness, and the difficult good over the expedient less-than we get better at dying.

7. Slow down. You. Are. Going. Too. Fast. How do I know this? There is a 95% chance that you came across this blog post via Facebook, which is what we do when we could just be sitting still or gently kissing someone.

Which are you good at? What did I leave out? Do you sense that you are truly alive? If not, are you missing something, or is it soul-clutter that’s getting in the way?

Living With Questions

February 27, 2016

The first time I saw a man coming undone was in High School. One of his children was in the hospital undergoing spinal taps, and I sat there with the other students, stunned into silence on our cheap hard seats as he asked us…

“Why…?”

He was my Religion teacher and he taught me more about faith in those classes than I had learned in years. He kept asking – with anger and tears – the same question each day, and he continued to receive in response about 30 blank stares from children whose faith had not yet been tested. Day after day. Class after class. Bitter silence on top of sterile quiescence.

Trying to be objective, I peel back layers of memory and wonder if I’ve ever received a life-giving answer from anyone who hasn’t first learned to live with questions. I think not.

These days, I hear many questions and very few answers. “Why is that Christian such an ass?” “What will happen next?” “When will the anxiety and depression go away?” “How will I find another job?” “What is next for my loved ones?”

“God, why…?”

I share some of the same queries and would appreciate some answers, but what’s more important is that I am a part of a community that doesn’t fear a lack of answers. Like my high school instructor, my family of Truth Seekers keep coming back, continue asking. Step after step. Snotty Kleenex after snotty Kleenex. And I love them for it.

Like a question without an answer, I penned some lyrics this week for which there is no melody. It is for some dear friends who are learning to live with questions. “It’s okay to not be strong,” I would tell them, and you. “Don’t give up,” I would say.

And then I would sit with you awhile.

Song In The Darkness

We all want to live on the mountain
Arms lifted high to our God and our King,
But You’ve said the path to that glory
Comes when we share in Your suffering.

Give me a song to sing in the darkness
Like the one Mary sang as they laid You to rest
A harmony born in the womb of this sadness
A lullaby for every heart worn and hard-pressed.

We all want to drink from the fountain
Of joy that Your resurrection can bring
But for now faith is just me waiting
In the tomb’s pain for my Easter King.

Give me a song to sing in the darkness
Like the one Mary sang as they laid you to rest
A harmony born in the womb of this sadness
A lullaby for every heart worn and hard pressed.

You’re not far off
You see my pain
You’re the God who died and rose again.
You’re not far off
You see my pain
You’re the God who died and rose again.

This is the song I sing in the darkness
Like the one Mary sang as they laid you to rest
A harmony born in the womb of great sadness
For God who loves me ever and gave me his best.

An Ending

February 21, 2016

“The end is near”, old prophets say,
“When angels weep and devils play;
Playground swings go still and rust;
Virgin brides refuse to trust;
Noble men begin to stray;
Our wells run dry and colours grey.”

So it is when we in sin
And pride refuse to let God in,
But build ourselves a monument-
Cosmic Anarchist Government.
We dance to the Devil’s mandolin,
And the mortal clock begins to spin.

“The end is near”, old prophets say,
“When we bow to a better way.
Justice and mercy wed and blend
When God becomes the sinner’s friend.
All we were not has been erased;
Dead bones can live with flesh replaced.”

The end is near for the downward chase:
An end to fear, a dawn of grace;
And end to hopelessness and rage,
A dawn of peace, and love’s rampage;
An end to children’s tears at night
The dawn of every blind man’s sight.

“What end choose you?” the prophets ask,
“The face of life or sin’s death mask?
Before you lie roads dark and light;
One sacrifice, one appetite.
One fist clenched in right and wrong,
One open hand and freedom song…”

Wilderness Worship

February 13, 2016

“Let my people go,” God said, “so that they can worship me in the wilderness.” (Exodus 7:16)

Worship and wilderness. I’d like to think that there is no connection. Surely the ancient Israelites were not so spiritually thick in the head that God’s presence could be overshadowed by a little milk and honey! If the Ancient One would meet with them, no doubt it would be in the parting of the sea or when fortress walls came crumbling down, yes?

Apparently not. In his great wisdom, it turns out that the Almighty had discerned that they’d be most spiritually pliable when sand was chafing in the nether regions of their undergarments. He chose to get personal somewhere between their Deliverance and the Promised Land. In Egypt they saw his power; in Palestine they saw the fulfillment of his promises. But the magic happened in the middle.

That’s where they meet, and under that desert sun God makes it clear that He is nobody’s mascot. He describes himself to Moses, saying, “…Yahweh! The LORD! The God of compassion and mercy! I am slow to anger and filled with unfailing love and faithfulness. I lavish unfailing love to a thousand generations. I forgive iniquity, rebellion, and sin. But I do not excuse the guilty. I lay the sins of the parents upon their children and grandchildren; the entire family is affected— even children in the third and fourth generations.” (Exodus 34:6-7 NLT) He has standards and expectations, and a ridiculous amount of love.

The desert narrative is God and his people, for better or worse, getting to know each other. What kind of God is it that when you are parched and ask for water, has you stand in front of a rock and says, “There you go…”? When you run out of food, what kind of God says, “Wait until morning, and then scrape up whatever you can find on the ground…”? This is a God who has offered Himself, and sees how easily we get sidetracked by secondary appetites.

Desert experiences aren’t forever, but going on to live a supernatural existence requires a holy communion that I haven’t seen taught anywhere else. God did not keep Daniel from the lion’s den, or Shadrach and his friends from the flames, or Mary from an unplanned pregnancy. Unexpected Company is unveiled in uncomfortable circumstance.

The Apostle Paul penned his heart’s desire this way: “…that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings…” (Philippians 3:10 NASB). He wanted to know Jesus, experientially, and understood that this would include both resurrection power and profound suffering.

In many of our churches we give indifferent assent to this, but only provide a voice for stories told from the perspective of victory and resolution. Suffering and brokenness and desert experiences are whispered about in private conversations and prayer chains. In many respects this is understandable. However, I suggest that there is a corporate disconnect when we preach the cross of Jesus but only celebrate the manifestation of his resurrection.

There is a beauty to be found in water from the rock and manna from heaven. More than that, a sense of wonder needs to be rediscovered when, for the first time, we see the Holy of Holies being crafted in a person’s soul. Indeed, one of the lessons of the great exodus is that the purpose of the desert is not to experience the faithful provision of God, but to create a space among his people for His glory.

For many of us, this goes being the realm of theory. Things haven’t turned out they way we thought they might. We assumed the light of God’s goodness would continue to shine ever brighter, and now we find ourselves in the desert, or the lion’s den, or the flames, or the tomb, or a place of anxiety, stress and depression that makes a mockery of metaphor.

It’s called Holy Ground. Let’s worship Him here.

Go on down to the silent place,
You who dare to seek God’s face.
For it may be you’ll find down there
An answer for that load you bear.

Stop not at the convenient spot
You’ve been before, for God is not
A landmark on a religious map,
Or a brew poured from some preacher’s tap.

Continue on with your open sores
To solitary haunted shores
Where human voices utter not
One breath of what a true God aught
To do or say or even be,
Silent before His blood-stained tree.

Sit awhile in the cold dark tomb-
That barren place that became the womb
Of every hope we ever had,
And the death of all that makes men mad,
For that is where our God is found.
Your weary heart is holy ground.

A Beginning

February 7, 2016

Seek you the door to distant lands?
The portal God cast with human hands?
Come then, Seeker; with key of mind
Leave ignorance and pride behind.
May these pages lead to shores of grace;
The holy found in each small space
Left between crippled words I pen.
Let them rest upon your tongue and then
Test whether what you find is true
To ancient ways walked by those who
Saw death die in the immortal one:
The God-man. Jesus. David’s Son.