Change

Probably one of my favorite scenes in all of modern film is in the Coen brothers movie No Country For Old Men. If you have seen the Oscar-winning flick, you know it has enough action and suspense to require a mild Xanax prescription with its viewing. The scene I am thinking of, however, is not impressive in terms of action, camera work or special effects but, as is often the case with the Coens, strictly in terms of dialogue.

Two Texas sheriffs, separated by hundreds of miles and united by a violent crime, sit down for coffee before one of the sheriffs (Tommy Lee Jones) takes the long drive home. As they process the crime, its twisted and horrific chain of effects, neither of them can make sense of where this world is heading or what all this violence is "leading to?" Aside from the serious discussion about the existence of evil and the trajectory of history, the scene is really funny! I hear my grandfather talking when the other sheriff complains about how 20 years ago people didn't have "green hair and bones in their nose" and that "the dismal tide" is turning. The entire scene lasts only a couple of minutes but it betrays a great deal about evil, humanity, time and the question, "Are things getting better or worse?"

When I first saw No Country I felt an arrogant sense of pity for the two sheriffs. How could they not see that humanity has always had the potential for evil? Don't they see that the world is just changing? Surely their own grandfathers probably had identical discussions in their latter days? Now that I am a little older and have probably allowed myself to be more shocked by human violence and tragedy, I can understand the characters' bewilderment.

I am in the process of finishing a book about the Bosnian-Serbian war. More than several times I have had to put it down because the stories of torture, rape, murder and ethnic cleansing are flat-out nauseating. Whats more, the author continually makes the appalling observation that all of this happened in Europe, in the same century that Nazis tried to exterminate the Jews! Has nothing changed? We were told to never forget Auschwitz, Birkenau and Dachau so how could humanity's memory not last into the early '90s?

If I am completely honest, it's hard for me to look at history and say things are getting better. Even though each generation of arm-chair philosophers posits the downfall of man in their own time, I find it nearly irresistible to avoid the same conclusions. I do wonder, though, if human suffering and violence is simply more amplified now because of our interconnectedness? After all, in one ten-minute session online I can read about dozens of bankruptcies, betrayals, murders, lies and infidelities. To a far-less-serious extent, and oftentimes more annoying, I can also hear the cries of thousands of friends who complain about everything from Democrats to Babies-R-Us on Facebook. "It's the dismal tide."

So, is history really plummeting to its dreadful conclusion or can we now just see more of what we once could not? I'm not sure if I can answer my own question. It's impossible for me to ignore the amazing amount of good being accomplished in the midst of our planet's constant turmoil. I will say that I don't want to sit in a corner with duct tape, bottled water and a taser that's primed to fend off apocalyptic cannibals. The potential for fear and fear mongering is unceasing. I would rather find ways I can change so my own world and the one around me will get better. Jesus, in fact, calls for that same sense of responsibility in the gospels.

To the often gloomy Pharisees, so concerned with how the dregs of society were polluting their towns and cities, Jesus spoke his harshest words of personal accountability. "Now you Pharisees clean the outside of the cup and of the dish, but inside you are full of greed and wickedness...Woe to you! For you are like unmarked graves, and people walk over them without knowing it" (Luke 11:39, 41). The point Jesus makes is what singer/songwriter Jon Foreman observes: "A mirror is harder to hold." Jesus understands that in order for the world to change, we must stop regarding wickedness as something we see in the outside world and start recognizing it in ourselves.

So, I suppose I am in the process of recognizing myself as painfully human. Maybe the whole world is going to pot, but I am not responsible for the whole world. My prayer is for the recognition of and responsibility for violence, greed and emptiness in my own heart. When I understand that I can't fix myself and that I need outside help, I am less prone to fix everyone else's problems before seeking help for my own. I find that I am much more helpful to people with problems when I look in the mirror and see one of "those people."

I'm back...

Well the last time I wrote I was in the US. After several months of trying to get my feet on the ground and figuring out why in the world I am in Hungary (still haven't figured that one out just yet), I am back in the blogosphere.

So much has been happening in my life and in my heart that I just cannot put it all into words right now. I plan on blogging about daily life at our website but also writing about more personal things--insights, cultural commentary, the gospel--right here. Thank you for your patience and for following this blog, with all of its abrupt pauses and so on.

Here is a video a friend of mine posted on his FB page. It's something to get the ball rolling again on this blog. John Mark McMillan is probably my favorite songwriter right now and this video reveals his great, big bleeding heart. The video gives the background for one of his most popular songs and lets you peek inside of his inspiration for writing music:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NXWE6AC8ao

Bundle up for nuclear winter!

Question: How do you make French models look even more malnourished and sad than they already do?

Answer: Put them in the setting of the Apocalypse!

For those of you who saw any number of the apocalyptic films that have been released in the past five years (I Am Legend, 2012, The Book of Eli, or The Road) and wondered, "Why can't I rock the trench coat like Denzel?" Or, "Will I ever look as good as a nearly-disintegrated Viggo Mortensen?" Now you can! American designer Rick Owens displayed his latest, darkest creation in Paris this week: Apocalypse-wear. Personally, I think Rick should take a line from Jay-Z's fashion creation (Rocawear) and call his work "Apocawear!" See pics below:

It seems the apocalyptic craze has finally reached the most important form of culture (also read here for my post on movies, the apocalypse, and why it's a hot topic).

Bundle up for nuclear winter, because it's about to get frigid with a 90% chance of sexy!

Up and eternal life

I know it's a bit late, but I finally had the chance to see Up tonight. Lately I have been doing my best to play "catch up" with some of 2009's best movies. Since Up is on just about everyone's top ten list, I finally pulled the trigger and watched the film "On Demand."

Up is essentially about life. A young boy (Carl) dreams of adventure and meets a daring young playmate (Ellie) who ends up giving him a lifetime of thrills. Before you can say "Walt Disney" three times fast, a well-aged Carl loses his life-long playmate to an unnamed illness. Death, as it does in real life, surprises and even angers most Up viewers. I had several people warn me about the "adult" themes in the film and my own step-mom yelled, "Terrible!" when Ellie died not 15 minutes into the movie. But hey, that is life.

The rest of the movie is spent following Carl as he seeks to make good on what he believes to be Ellie's last wishes. The couple's childhood dream had been to travel to Paradise Falls in South America. Carl devises a plan to take the house he and Ellie lived in and fly it across the equator. An annoying Junior Wilderness Explorer (the equivalent of a boy scout) named Russell tags along with a crotchety Carl and the adventure begins.

I will go ahead and fast forward a bit on the plot so I can relay some correlations I saw to the gospel. Carl, Russell, and a dog friend have to battle off an embittered antagonist to protect a wild bird they cross paths with. Carl sacrifices his coveted dream to fight against evil and protect the bird, saving the day with the help of his friends. Hooray! Good guys win and bad guys lose (always a good formula for a movie).

Even though Up seems to basically engender adventure, it also speaks to life eternal. What this movie teaches us about life is that it should be lived. Instead of hiding inside of our secure fortresses with curtains closed and doors locked, we should cut loose our burdens and fly! Through out this flick, what's really killing Carl is that he is letting death win. He keeps all of Ellie's old things, preserves his house in anachronistic order, and fights to keep things the way they were. All the while life marches on and he stays behind with death. One of the most telling scenes in this movie is when the camera angle zooms out and Carl is dragging his helium-held house behind him like a ball and chain. The burden is clearly too much to bear.

When Carl realizes that he has the opportunity to live, not for himself or even for Ellie, his burden is transformed into a vehicle of adventure. For most of the movie Carl is entirely self-centered. Life and death revolve around him and he is simply too selfish to engage the world. When all seems to be lost and all of his control is finally futile, he receives second life. Carl steps up at just the right time, dies to himself, and becomes the hero of the film.

Every hero learns something on the path to glory. For Carl, the lesson is about life-to-the-fullest (life eternal). Life is greater than death; life continues on, long after death is but a faint thunderstorm passing beyond the horizon. Adventure, laughter, and love are all a part of life. However, you must live in order to find said experiences. Carl learns there is life beyond death and the viewers of Up get a taste of the gospel. The resurrection of a life once-considered dead is inspiring enough to give me hope on this second day of the new year.

Wild Things

I was FINALLY able to see Where the Wild Things Are this week and I was not disappointed. I have been looking forward to this movie for a long time. When I found out that Spike Jonze was writing and directing the on-screen adaptation of my favorite boyhood book, I was as giddy as a school girl! I have been following Jonze since the 90's and the glory days of MTV (a la Weezer, Beastie Boys, and Fatboy Slim). I use to sit in front of my Mom's TV for hours, knowing exactly when a Spike Jonze video was on and studying its every layer. Believe it or not, MTV once housed and supported creative artists. How the dismal tide has turned!

Nevertheless, this movie was surprising. From viewing the trailers and sampling the soundtrack, I sort of guessed in advance that it would be more adult than expected and it certainly is. Wild Things traverses themes of fear, anger, love, hope, divorce, and despair. It forces introspection and causes anyone who has lived through a divorce to face the painful past. Even with all of the heaviness (my wife Allie described it as unexpectedly sad), I still walked away with faith, hope, and love in my heart.

The main character, Max, is an angry boy. The opening scene finds Max chasing his dog with a fork and you sincerely wonder whether the family pet has met its end at the hands of a child monster. As the movie progresses, however, it is clear that Max is simply "acting out." His father is absent (due to an assumed divorce), his mom is busy with work and a new love interest, and his sister largely ignores her annoying little brother. One night, when Max has reached his wits end, he runs away to a nearby forest, finds a conveniently-placed sail boat, and then catches the nearest trade wind to a far-off island.

By this point in the movie I had already shed more than a few tears. I cannot tell you how badly I wanted to run away from my world as an angry, young boy. My parents' divorce put what often seemed to be unbearable strain on my soul. I remember screaming, yelling, crying, and even carving hateful slogans into the wooden base of my race car track, all because I was hurting. I hated the hate and I was angry about the anger. In short, I understand Max.

Once he reaches the island, Max meets a number of wild beasts. Suddenly an incredible tension enters the film. I spent much of the film wondering what these monsters might do to the little sojourner. However, Max befriends the wild things and the adventure really begins.

It seems the monsters represent much of what is going on inside of Max. In fact, the monster to which Max best relates is one with an anger issue (Carol). The other wild things have different personalities, all of which could be allegorically linked to the world from which he came. In order to save himself, Max tries to become king over the wild things. The creatures respond with glee because, after all, they long to be held in check.

Max does everything to help his new friends. He dances, makes great claims about his kingly power, and even tries to encourage playtime so they can blow off some steam. Even so, the reign of Max the Great does not last for long. The monsters find out that their king is "just one of them" (an interesting observation) and even more tension fills the film. Max cannot control the monsters. Consequently, the wild things all but abandon Max and return to a familiar sense of despair.

What happens next changes the nature of Max's interactions with the wild things. Max starts to come clean about his true identity. He begins to see the damage his feigned reign has caused and starts listening to more of what the monsters are saying. Max begins to realize just how similar the monsters are to himself. Despite his attempts to mend, however, Max ultimately decides it would be better to leave the island. When he does, the monsters are actually sad to see him go.

The best thing that happened to Max, and to the wild things for that matter, was honesty. As an outsider on the island, Max had two options: (1) Reshape himself to be whatever he wanted or (2) face the reality of his world and the wild things'. When Max finally embraced the latter, love was born. No longer could he or the wild things hide, instead they had to accept one another exactly as they were. In fact, Max gave the divisive and distraught creatures with more love than they had ever known. And when migrant Max returns to his homeland, he hurries home to embrace the family he left in hate. Love wins.

What can children of divorce learn from Wild Things? Simply put, I cannot reign over the monster(s) inside of me. Try as I might to put on a show, do my best impression of powerful governing, or recreate myself, I am still me. I know that sounds a bit cliché, but sooner or later we all must face the mean ugliness inside. Once we can admit our despair, the question then becomes: "Am I willing to allow love that is waiting on the outside to come in?"

For a very long time I believed I was allowing true love into my world. I sought love in the club/bar scene, in relationships, and even in the dark world of pornography. The love I found, or I thought I had found anyhow, only pacified my anger and hid my hurt. Furthermore, it all depended upon my efforts to receive love. "If only I can look good enough, be funny enough, or spend more time online, then I will know the love and intimacy I crave." The love I was pursuing was completely conditional and it had nothing to do with the real me.

True love requires honesty, exposure, and unconditional acceptance. This, my patient readers, is the gospel of Jesus. The second I start performing to receive love or painting my face to become appear more pleasing, I am outside of the gospel's radical love. Jesus allows us to be exposed in the light so we can live and love in freedom. He is not safe because he speaks the truth, but he is good because his love is divine. My prayer for you is that you would remain comfortably exposed in the person of Jesus, daily seeking to rest in his love. Join me in the struggle to believe that Jesus loves us and the wild things within.

Up from the ashes

Today has been an incredibly tough day. My idols were screaming out to me all day, swelling to a size that seemed much larger than God himself. I had to break away, go outside, and listen to some music to simply drown out the noise in my soul. I found that as loud as my idols may shout at me, they are not louder than he who calls me by name. I hope the lyrics to this song bless you as they have blessed me and reminded me of the gospel.

You and I meet
On the shores of the broken
You swallow the ocean
I Swallow my pride
Only to see
The way that I need you
Is more than I knew
I ever could

In between the ashes and the flames
Is a cry an awkward silence
Could never contain
And the falling of my hammers
And the writhing of my pain
Is just not as real as the way
That your calling my name

I cant help thinking
That the way that you want me
And the ghost that haunts me
Are one and the same
Cause you stand at my window
At night wile I'm sleeping
There's not a promise I'm keeping
That could ever repay you

In between the ashes and the flames
There's a song that burns brighter
Than Radio waves
Bout the remnants of my Idols
And the shadow of my shame
About how they scatter like the rain and I can't stop crying
Cause you wont stop calling my name

Calling my name up from the ashes

A cure for the Terminally ill

When Tom Hanks isn't rockin' the mullet and chasing down the Pope's evil henchmen, he is actually a fantastic actor. Tonight we watched "The Terminal" (Directed by Spielberg) and I was reminded why I so respect Hanks as an artist committed to his craft. In this post-9/11 romantic comedy, the airport is not simply a traveler's purgatory. Victor Navorski (Hanks) is unable to leave JFK for complicated reasons and somehow finds a wandering Amelia (Catherine Zeta-Jones). Love fills the stale, airport air. Soon the entire airport, staff included, begins to feel the love.

Every subtle move, every twitch, slip, fall, wink, and laugh from Victor convinces you that he is indeed a friend. Amelia's character, however, leaves much to be desired. We couldn't tell if it was her character or just Jones' acting, but Amelia is downright annoying. Then again, maybe that's the point.

"The Terminal" is a love story, a movie about love's life-altering effects. It's also a movie about humanity. Amelia is a flawed flight attendant who cannot keep herself from the arms of married, middle-aged men. Victor is a fun-loving, easygoing foreigner whose social and verbal faux pas are simply cute. You find yourself almost hating Amelia for her, how do I put this, flakiness. She constantly runs from Victor and he constantly pursues her. Is that stupidity or love, or both?

Victor is unmistakably Christ-like. Everyone who comes into contact with Victor can't help but melt in his presence. Even the hardened Homeland Security chief learns compassion from the pesky outsider. Despite the heavy hand of the law and countless setbacks, Victor is on a mission. His entire purpose for coming to the US is to fulfill his father's will and obtain one final autograph for a Jazz collection. The journey away from home is a labor of love.

Even though he is stuck in an airport terminal for some time, Victor does not lose sight of his mission and loves along the way. He helps to arrange a marriage, he befriends his Indian enemy, and he even sacrifices himself for his friends at the end of the movie. Furthermore, Victor pursues Amelia in all of her imperfections. He woos Amelia, but she can only run. He builds her a fountain and offers her new life, she receives Victor and then runs some more. Amelia tells Victor to "stay away" because she is poisonous. Victor does only what he knows to do: love and pursue.

Towards the end of the movie, even while Amelia is in the arms of another, Victor sacrifices himself for his friends. His friends, following his example of love, reciprocate and it seems the entire world takes notice. As Victor passes from the somewhat torturous airport setting, Amelia passes him on her way to yet another flight. The look they give each other is one of, "We'll meet again." Amelia is not in Victor's arms by the movie's end, but love still wins. Although she is still a wanton women painfully moving through life, her encounter with Victor clearly changes her.

When you think about it, it is quite a gutsy move to make such a film only three years after the Twin Towers fell. In 2004, people still stopped and looked up when an airplane flew over and the airport was still a place of great anxiety. This movie, however, was filmed at a time when our country needed hope. We were involved in a gruesome war overseas and, despite our government's best efforts, our homeland did not feel so secure. The idea of an outsider revealing his love and irrupting into our world with compassion, not hate, gives us peace.

I worshipped tonight while watching this movie because I am Amelia. I have the hope that love wins out over all of my mistakes. I believe that an outsider can teach me more about my world than one thousand insiders. I hope you can watch this movie soon and find the person of Jesus in Victor Navorski.