I took Zachary to see Amazing Grace yesterday afternoon–wow! I was deeply moved, challenged, and encouraged. I had heard of Wilberforce through my studies of British literature, but I didn’t know much about him. It was exciting to see a man of faith and conviction portrayed as a hero–and he should be, because he did something profound. I also appreciated the opportunity to learn more about Olaudah Equiano, the former slave; I’ve read and taught parts of Equiano’s autobiography in my American literature courses, but I was not aware of the extent of his involvement in the anti-slavery movement in England.

I’ve wanted to see the film since it opened, and I wanted to take Zack, but he was not particularly interested, and I hadn’t found a good time to go. As usual, though, the timing was perfect, and I can see that the Holy Spirit had a hand in it. I had just finished reading about having a vision for one’s life in Live Your Calling, which Teddie and I are using in a small group we attend this semester, and Amazing Grace shows vision and calling in action in a spectacular way. It is good to be reminded that one person can change the world–though I’m mindful that Wilberforce didn’t work alone, and the film makes that clear. He was surrounded by those who shared his vision and labored with him. Still, it was his persistence and determination–dogged determination is more apt–that bore fruit.

Amazing Grace is just the sort of film that I want my children exposed to: I want Zack to see the power of vision and passion, to see the legacy that a man of conviction can leave, and so to stir his vision for what he can do. I know it did that for me.

You can learn more about the film and Wilberforce at the official site for the film.

I took Isaac and Anna to see The Wild this afternoon and really enjoyed it. It has a number of similarities to Madagascar, but I think The Wild is better. I’ll leave reviews to the professionals; what I want to comment on are the father/son relationships presented in the movie. (I should note, too, that my comments will probably contain spoilers, so if you haven’t seen the film and don’t want any surprises ruined, then read another post.)

The story focuses on the lion Samson, the pride of the New York Zoo, and his son Ryan. Samson regales Ryan with stories of his fearlessness back in the wild and is teaching him to roar; unfortunately, Ryan can’t pull it off, producing only loud meows. Feeling like a failure compared to his father’s immense reputation, Ryan heads off to find “the wild.” Too late, he changes his mind, and Samson follows to rescue him. As Samson and his friends pursue Ryan, we discover that Samson’s not as fearless as he appears, and we learn that he has a secret. At a crucial point in the story, Samson, reunited with his son, tells Ryan that he never lived in the wild, and that he failed to roar when he most needed to as a cub. In the flashback, we see Samson separated from his father, and we see the disappointment of the father as well.

The Wild offers clear illustrations of a number of ideas in Eldredge’s Wild at Heart: the wound that’s frequently passed from father to son, the need to discover/recover the wildness within the masculine heart. What I appreciated about this movie is that while Ryan is initially disappointed that his father lied to him, he doesn’t hold it against him very long at all. In fact, soon after, he says to Samson, “I’m sorry you didn’t have a dad like I have.” And we see Samson become what he was created to be: a fearless lion.

I can relate to Samson; I feel like I’m learning how to do the whole “man” thing along with Zack, my oldest; I’m blessed that Zack, like Ryan, is not the kind to hold my failures against me and that he recognizes I’m learning too.

On the way home from a movie, I always ask the kids to tell what they liked best. For The Wild, Isaac, not surprisingly, picked one of the silly moments (a break-dancing wildebeest). I was very much surprised, though, that Anna said her favorite part was when we learn about Samson’s childhood failure in front of his father. I asked her why she chose that part; she said, “Because it was sad and because we see what happened to the daddy lion.” Smart little girl!

Samson’s saving grace is that he has a real, ongoing relationship with his son. It’s not his supposed “wildness” that makes him a great father; it’s his daily interaction with Ryan. I use grace purposely: I’ve come to realize that my ability to spend a lot of time with my children is a gift, a grace from God. I’ve learned that regular interaction and a ready willingness to say “I’m sorry” make up for a host of hurts and mistakes. The Wild illustrates this beautifully.

I saw V for Vendetta Tuesday night; it’s about the overthrow of a totalitarian government. It’s also very much about the power of fear. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that oppressive governments trade in fear–Iraq under Saddam Hussein is a clear picture of that. V for Vendetta did a better job of making this clear than other films I’ve seen in this genre, in part because Evey, the main character, has to overcome her own fears to make a difference in the world around her.

What stood out to me most is a statement, fairly early in the story, that the citizens allowed the oppressive government to come in. In the world of V, the chancellor was elected, so on the most literal level the people of Britain did allow their own oppression. But the bigger point the film makes is that they allowed it because of fear. The chancellor preyed on their fears of disease, anarchy, difference–a range of physical, political, and moral threats–and got the people to trade their freedom for “safety.”

This got me thinking about myself and the spiritual dimensions of oppression. When have I traded my freedom because of fear? Though we don’t actually verbalize it, we make alliances with the enemy out of fear. We hear God calling us to step out–maybe something as simple as speaking about our faith to a non-Christian. And almost immediately, we also hear the voice of fear: what if they reject you? what if you offend them? It’s safer just to keep quiet. And so we trade our freedom for a supposed safety that is borne of fear.

But here’s the catch: the “safety” we’ve opted for is no safety at all. It’s confinement. Because the next time we are faced with the opportunity, it will be just that much easier to trade freedom–to trade opportunity–for fear and “safety”. V shows that the safer the people are, the more restricted their lives become.

Israel in the wilderness is a good example of this: given a choice between the uncertainty of the Promised Land and the relative safety of oppression in Egypt, they wanted oppression. But of course, they didn’t phrase it that way. Few of us, if offered a choice between oppression and freedom would opt for oppression. Instead, they thought of the “cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic” (Numbers 11:5). From our perspective, it’s easy to make fun of them for ignoring the realities of forced labor and infanticide. But I’m not so sure we are all that different.

I find it interesting that God keeps telling Joshua to be strong and courageous, to not fear (see Joshua 1). Joshua had already proved himself a mighty warrior; he had been with Moses for years and seen the works of God. We would think that Joshua wouldn’t have a fear problem, but clearly he did. And I take great comfort in that! If Joshua had all this experience of God’s power and still needed some encouragement to not fear, then I don’t have to be so hard on myself for feeling some fear along the way.

The key, it seems to me, is perspective. Time and again, the Israelites looked at things the wrong way and so made wrong choices–think of Caleb and Joshua versus the other ten spies. Moving beyond fear doesn’t require that we ignore or downplay the very real risks–but it does mean weighing the costs of the supposed safety versus the costs of stepping out. In V for Vendetta, the citizens finally rose up because they saw an example of courage and they started to see their “safety” for what it was: oppression.

That’s my prayer: clear vision. Jesus said, “you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). I get clear vision–I get freedom–when I know the truth.

Father, I want clear vision, I want Your perspective on my choices. Show me where I have traded my freedom for fear. Help me to see the truth. And help me to be strong and courageous so that I can have all You promised me.

About a week ago I downloaded Ashley Cleveland’s Men and Angels Say, a collection of hymns. Cleveland is not a well-known name in Christian music; nevertheless, she’s incredibly talented, winning the Grammy for Best Rock Gospel Album in both 1996 and 1999. More to the point for this blog, she’s one of my favorite artists, and this CD has been about the only thing I’ve listened to over the past week.

I’m not a big fan of hymn projects; too often the hymns become something that I can’t recognize once the artist adapts them. Cleveland brings her style–rock, blues, and folk music–to hymns and preserves the integrity of the songs while making them fresh. I think that’s what I find most appealing about this album. I grew up singing hymns and I have fond memories of many of them, but most of them lost their meaning for me simply from over-exposure. Hearing Cleveland sing “It Is Well with My Soul,” for instance, I hear the lyrics in a new way, as if the for first time, and I consider the words in a way I haven’t in a long time–or perhaps ever.

The first two tracks were new to me: “Come Ye Sinners” and “Surely, Goodness and Mercy.” “Come Ye Sinners” was written in 1759; the verses are good, but the refrain is what is memorable:

I will arise and go to Jesus,
He will embrace me in His arms;
In the arms of my dear Savior,
O there are ten thousand charms.

“Ten thousand charms”: this is worth contemplating. What was the writer thinking when he wrote this? What was his experience of God that led him to see God’s blessings as so great?

“Surely, Goodness and Mercy” is from 1954, an adaptation of Psalm 23; though its lyrics are not particularly remarkable, the song–at least as Cleveland sings it–is a powerful reminder that God’s goodness and mercy will follow me “all the days of my life.” Again, this song has taken something that had become somewhat empty of meaning for me–Psalm 23–and brought it to life.

You can read a complete review of the CD and an interview with Cleveland about the project.

I’ve just finished watching Luther again–I highly recommend it! I was deeply moved by it when I first saw it in the theater about a year ago; my sister Jennifer had called and urged me to see it right away, saying it wasn’t likely to play long. I saw it a few days later. Oddly enough, it stayed in town for about a month, and I took my older son Zack to see it as well. Zack loves history, and I wanted him to see the life and impact of this most influential figure.

Early in the film, we see Luther in his cell talking to Satan; his spiritual advisor, Johann von Staupitz, says to him: “You’re too hard on yourself, Brother Martin. Arguing with the devil never does any of us any good. He has had 5000 years of practice. He knows all the weak spots.”

Luther goes on to say that he lives in fear of hell and of God; he pleads for a God he can love. Staupitz tells him: “Then look to Christ. Bind yourself to Christ. Then you will know God’s love.” As he puts a crucifix in Luther’s hand, he adds, “Say to Him, ‘I am yours. Save me.’”

These words are the theme of the film–that we belong to Christ, and He loves us and saves us.

My time in a very charismatic church showed me many Christians who spent more time arguing with the devil than they did binding themselves to Christ. While the intent was good, it seems to me the focus was wrong. Joyce Meyer says that the greatest warfare a Christian can wage against the enemy is to walk in love, and she points to Jesus Christ himself as our example. He walked in love and forcefully advanced the kingdom.

The Old Testament presents us with a beautiful picture of looking to God rather than contending with our enemy. Second Chronicles 20 tells the story of God defeating Moab and Ammon. Jehoshaphat learns that these two kingdoms are coming against Judah, and he proclaims a fast to seek God’s help. His prayer concludes, “For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon You” (v. 12, NIV). At the direction of a prophet, the people march out toward the waiting armies the next day, led by singers praising God “for the splendor of His holiness” (v. 21, NIV) as they sing a simple song:

Give thanks to the LORD;
his faithful love endures forever! (v. 21, NLT)

The result is amazing: “At the moment they began to sing and give praise, the LORD caused the armies of Ammon, Moab, and Mount Seir to start fighting among themselves” (v. 22, NLT). In other words the people didn’t have to fight; God did it for them because they trusted Him and praised Him.

The writer of Chronicles finishes the story with this powerful statement: “So Jehoshaphat’s kingdom was at peace, for his God had given him rest on every side” (v. 30, NLT). Two things I like about this sentence: one is that we are told that “his God” did it–Jehoshaphat moved from knowledge of God to experience of God, or to put it the way Beth Moore does, he went from believing in God to believing God; this experience, this belief makes for intimate relationship with God, and He becomes not the “God of Judah” but “his God.” Second, this idea of “rest on every side” is wonderful and worthy of meditation. Imagine a life in which you are surrounded by rest! It can be ours as we bind ourselves to Christ.

One final note: I find a great irony in the NIV section heading at the start of 2 Chronicles 20; it titles this story, “Jehoshaphat Defeats Moab and Ammon”–did they miss the point of the story?

I saw In Good Company last night and thoroughly enjoyed it. It’s the story of a good man (he happens to be named Dan) who mentors Carter, a man half his age, showing him what a meaningful life is about.

As Dan’s daughter Alex says, she is “cursed with a functional family,” and that’s one of the things I love about this story. Carter’s pretty dysfunctional, but he–and everyone around–knows it. He’s drawn to Dan’s functional family and to Dan’s solid, loving marriage, his integrity, his sense of purpose, and his commitment to the people around him.

It’s refreshing to see a film in which the father and husband is totally admirable, rather than a buffoon, as is often the case in TV sitcoms and children’s cartoons.

I’ve been listening to Chris Tomlin's latest project, Arriving, and I love it. When I get a new CD that I really like, I listen to it pretty much non-stop; I want the words and music to sink in. I’ve been listening to this one so much I often wake with one of the songs “playing” in my mind.

Chris Tomlin’s music is an integral part of worship at Highlands, and I saw him in concert last fall with Steven Curtis Chapman. The time that he had on stage was really a worship service rather than a concert, and I appreciated the heart that was there to honor God rather than to simply perform for a crowd.

What I like about Arriving is that the lyrics emphasize the majesty and greatness of God, something I’ve been seeking to learn more about over the past few months. I grew up in a tradition that taught me to fear God in an unhealthy way, and then I moved into a tradition that showed me God as a friend–and too often, as a buddy; I went from one extreme to the other. I love the fact that I feel comfortable talking to God at any time, but I’ve recognized in the past year that I am missing some of the awe that other traditions, particularly Roman Catholicism, instill in believers.

Arriving begins with “Indescribable”–“From the highest of highs to the depths of the sea / Creation’s revealing Your majesty.…” This focus on God’s majesty continues with “How Great Is Our God,” “All Bow Down,” “King of Glory,” and “You Do All Things Well.”

My favorite song on the CD is “Unfailing Love.” This song does what I think Tomlin is especially gifted at: articulating the wonder we must feel when we consider that the infinite God of the universe cares for us.

And everything You hold in Your hands
Still You make time for me
I can’t understand

“Unfailing Love” reminds me of Tomlin’s “Captured,” from the CD The Noise We Make (2001):

And I’m loved by the Father
And I’m loved by the Son
And it is love that has captured
The heart of this wayward one

Both songs are gentle, intimate, thoughtful reminders of how amazing it is to be loved by God.

Read a review of Arriving at ChristianityToday.com.