Faith and Doubt

There's a moment in Scripture where the disciples are hiding in a locked room after Jesus has been crucified. They're terrified of what the Jews will do if they're found to be followers of an executed rebel. Suddenly Jesus shows up, revealing Himself to his closest friends and followers. He offers words of comfort and sends them out, just as the Father had sent Him.

Except for Thomas. He's not there. He doesn't see Jesus.

When Thomas comes back, his friends tell him that the leader they'd been following, the man they'd been mourning, that He has risen from the dead. Thomas responds like it's a bad joke told too soon after a tragedy. He makes a startling challenge--he won't believe unless he can put his fingers in the wounds of the risen Jesus.

Small detail: it takes a week for Jesus to reveal Himself to Thomas. Which leads me to this question: why did Jesus wait a week?

Long before Thomas, there was a man named Jacob who was struggling with the promises God had made to him. He was about to be confronted by the brother he betrayed; he appeared to be facing imminent death. There's a bizarre moment where Jacob wrestles a man for an entire night near a stream. Many theologians--myself included--believe that this man was an Old Testament appearance of Jesus, the Son of God. Now, Jesus clearly could have squashed Jacob in a wrestling match. He's God, after all. But he doesn't. They don't wrestle for a few minutes, or even hours. They wrestle all night.

Why did Jesus wait all night? Why did Jesus wait a week? Why does Jesus wait even now when I doubt and struggle and forget His promises?

Both men doubted the promises of God. Both men were made to wait. They had to wrestle in frustration with the apparent reality before them and the promised reality they couldn't see yet. When Jesus ultimately confronts both of their doubt, it is done with a firm gentleness, the perfect paradox of grace and truth.

Jesus still does this, because authentic doubt can ultimately lead to a more authentic faith. He doesn't answer the questions right away, but He also doesn't abandon us to our uncertainty. He wrestles with us, gives us time, and offers gentle reminders of the truth--that we can trust Him, that He is faithful, that He'll come and allow us to put our fingers in his hands and side so that we can stop doubting and believe.

McCarthy and Fatherhood

The Washington Street Journal has a fascinating interview with one of my favorite authors, Cormac McCarthy on writing, filmmaking, and the end of the world. On fatherhood and morality:

I don't think goodness is something that you learn. If you're left adrift in the world to learn goodness from it, you would be in trouble. But people tell me from time to time that my son John is just a wonderful kid. I tell people that he is so morally superior to me that I feel foolish correcting him about things, but I've got to do something--I'm his father. There's not much you can do to try to make a child into something that he's not. But whatever he is, you can sure destroy it. Just be mean and cruel and you can destroy the best person.

The film version of McCarthy's Pulitzer winner, The Road, comes out next week. I'm reading the book for the second time through the eyes of fatherhood.

Consumerism: The Musical

Found this video while looking for examples of consumerism online. I'm talking about the religion of consumerism with the junior highers this Sunday for Advent Conspiracy. Not sure if I'll show this video to them, but it's worth watching all the same. (RSS readers, click through to watch the video).

-youtube link-

Monday Movie Day Reviews

Munyurangabo (2009): About 15 years ago, the country of Rwanda was torn apart by genocide, recently remembered in the film Hotel Rwanda. Remarkably different in tone is Munyurangabo, a grittily authentic look at the aftermath of genocide and pain. The titular character is an orphaned teen traveling from the urban center of Kigali to find the man who killed his parents in the genocide. Traveling with his friend, Sangwa, Ngabo carries a stolen machete and a deep desire for revenge. The two stop at Sangwa's home village, intending only to stay for rest and food, but end up remaining for a few days, with Ngabo anxious to leave to complete his act of revenge.

There is a quiet tension running throughout the film, that this country has experienced genocide. There isn't any violence shown onscreen, but there is a weightiness in the people's eyes, a sadness caused by seeing far too much pain for one lifetime. A brief moment where Ngabo imagines blood on the end of his machete is all the imagery one needs; this is a land that has seen too much blood spilled already. Sangwa's parents are instantly troubled by Ngabo's presence in their home, and their friendship seems to be one of necessity, not mutuality. It's even difficult to discern what exactly is happening in the story, as filmmaker Lee Isaac Chung allows the camera to silently follow these characters with a sense of documentary-like authenticity. What will Ngabo do with the machete once he reaches his destination?

Much of this film relies on images and the neorealism of the setting. It's perhaps the most authentically African film to date; this is the first feature film with the African dialect of Kinyarwandan, and the cast are native Rwandans who mostly improvised the dialogue. Filmed in only 11 days, Chung and crew spent much of their time following the cast around and allowed them to retell their own stories in film. Jeff, the young Rwandan portraying Ngabo, was also orphaned in the genocide and living as a petty thief on the streets of Kigali. This isn't just Munyurangabo's story; this is Jeff's story. This is Rwanda's story. And it's a story that needs to be told.

This is a film that takes discipline to enjoy. With little dialogue, a difficult narrative to follow, and nonprofessional actors, it took significant effort for me to push through to the emotive climax. But it's worth the efforts. There is a powerful moment near the closing moments when Ngabo encounters Rwanda's poet laureate, Edouard B Uwayo. In a powerful scene, Uwayo shares the poem he will share at Rwanda's Liberation Day ceremony, a poem about justice and peace and grace in the midst of terrible violence. He stares into the camera and pours out a beautiful poem that is beyond language barriers; he is pouring out both his sadness for the past and his hope for the future in one punctuated polemic against injustice.

It's taken me a few weeks to fully appreciate Munyurangabo. It's slowly percolated in my mind, churning and moving and coming up to the surface at strange moments throughout my daily life. Much like the blood that was spilled in the streets of Rwanda, this film is haunting. It doesn't leave my thoughts, it nags for my attention, and leaves me contemplating my own sense of justice. Weaving and wandering, like Ngabo through the dusty rural roads of his country, my emotions bring me back to Christ's grace, his compassion for those who are broken and have broken, for those hurt and those who have hurt others. He loves them both, and offers restoration to both. This is the power of both Munyurangabo and the gospel; it's the power of reconciliation, of mending what once was broken so that creation can be fully healed. In a world where over half a million people can be slaughtered in 100 days, it's the only hope we have.

Advent Conspiracy

It's the new tradition.

-YouTube link-

Sin Pisses Me Off

I've recently been angered by the presence of sin in people's lives around me, people I know well and people I've never met. It's not just frustration, it's downright anger with the sin. I want to punch the sin in the face. It's troubling to see sin creep in and destroy people with its isolation and pride and blindness to the truth and love of God.

Because that's what sin does--it destroys. The book of James says that sin leads to death; physical, emotional, relational, and spiritual.

It kills trust, kills peace, kills authenticity, kills integrity. I'm seeing it in people's lives and feeling the weight of my own sin in my heart. Whether it's just one word spoken out of selfish pride or whether it's a huge fall from grace, sin breaks apart relationships and hurts the Body of Christ. It may start with isolation, but it never just hurts the sinner; sin has far-reaching implications in the context of community.

I am beginning to understand Jesus' anger with the sin around him, the anger that gets him to the point of calling people serpents or tossing tables.

Which leads me to the truth of the Gospel: Jesus has beaten sin and death. Jesus restores trust, restores peace, fosters authentic transformation, makes integrity possible, and does it all through love and grace and sacrifice. Which means even though sin can damage relationships, it can never kill hope.

There's always hope of restoration and reconciliation through Christ. And that keeps me from getting too pissed off.

Back to the Northwest

We're heading to the Oregon/Washington area for my sister's wedding and to see family and friends. So blogging will likely be scarce until late into next week. It's Copeland's first plane ride, and we have about two million people we want to see in a very short period of time, so pray for endurance and patience!

Baby Blogging

We dedicated Copeland in the worship service two weeks ago, which was an emotionally powerful moment for me as a father. He was all smiles the entire time. The heart of Deuteronomy 6 is my prayer for our little family:

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.

Giving Well(s) at Christmas

Yeah it's November. But Christmas decorations are already in stores, and television ads are already reminding you to empty your bank accounts in order to buy more stuff this holiday season. But what if we reclaimed the season of Christmas in the name of Jesus, choosing to spend less on stuff and give more of ourselves to the people around us?

We're participating in Advent Conspiracy as a junior high youth group by raising funds to build a well in Uganda through Know.Think.Act, an online community designed to connect people to the needs of the impoverished world in Uganda and Kenya. Know.Think.Act. is an initiative of Global Support Mission. I love GSM because they tell their story well and are incredibly relational in their approach. This isn't about throwing money at another charity; this is about intentionally building relationships between communities through compassion and service. The students will record and share their story using picture, video, and writing, sending the community in Uganda not only our funds, but our love.

Here's a picture of what we'll be doing as a junior high group:

Know.Think.Act. Well Video from Global Support Mission on Vimeo.

The kingdom of God is breaking through in both Uganda and Mesa. If you want to join us in raising support for this well and Know.Think.Act., email me at jmayward@rmccchurch.org, or sign up for Know.Think.Act. by clicking here.

Monday Movie Day Reviews

The Brothers Bloom (2009): I've been recently fascinated with the concept of story. This is partly due to a recent junior high teaching series on the narrative of Scripture, partly due to Donald Miller's latest book. Maybe these are soundings from the stirrings in my heart, a not-so-midlife crisis of identity and pondering of the future. Now a quarter-century old, with a house and a son, I'm wondering where my story is leading, what kind of a character I'm becoming, what kind of a plot is being written. Yeah, some might think 25 is quite young to be thinking like this, that I've got quite a ways to go in my story. Yet I want to start living the best possible story now. I want my life to be written well.

Director Rian Johnson's sophomore film makes a similar claim--that story and life are the same, that we create our own narrative and fulfill the role as a title character. Brothers Stephen (Mark Ruffalo) and Bloom (Adrian Brody) learn this truth at an early age, but choose to take it one step further--if they can create a story for someone to live out, they could swindle a whole lot of money out of 'em. Their entire lives become recreated epics, with Stephen as screenwriter and director and Bloom as the tragic hero. Together with their silent demolitions expert Bang-Bang (Rinko Kikuchi), they sweep unsuspecting millionaires into their contrived story until they can finally con them out of their wealth.

Eventually Bloom tires of living someone else's story. He's tired of playing a role in Stephen's elaborate schemes. Yet Stephen has one final con for the pair, an eccentric heiress named Penelope (Rachel Weisz) who is living an incredibly boring existence inside her east-coast mansion. Bloom instantly is attracted to Penelope, but as the plot gets decisively more complex, everyone is left wondering who is running this con. There are Russian mobsters, a suspicious Belgian, former con artists, and plenty of other fun details. This is a film about details, where camels walk around in the background and cameos by Brick's Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Nora Zehetner require the viewer's full attention.

Stylish and mildly cerebral, this feels like a Wes Anderson film, only a bit more fun. I loved Johnson's re-imagining of the noir genre with Brick; this film plays like a classic caper filled with twists and turns, romance and intrigue. The scenes are colorful and rich, with beautiful settings like Athens, Prague, Montenegro, and St. Petersburg. The actors give charming performances--particularly Weisz--and the plot moves along at a steady pace. My only complaint is that there are a bit too many "wait...is this just another con?" moments, which can become tiresome by the climax. With so much deceit, it's difficult to trust any of the characters' motives by the conclusion.

At one point, Penelope is showing Bloom a home-made camera she made out of a watermelon (like I said, she's eccentric). She makes a passing comment about her watermelon-captured photographs that encapsulate the entire plot of the film: "It's not reproduction. It's a lie about the truth. It's storytelling." This entire film walks in the tension of realism and fantasy; there's no way this could ever happen, yet we want to believe that our lives can be stories as epic as the characters onscreen. I'm convinced they can. When I talk with friends who have started their own non-profit organizations to end extreme poverty, or hear the dreams of a junior high student filled with a passion for the things of God, I know that our stories don't have to be false. We can be caught up in a greater Story, written by the most creative Author around. The Brothers Bloom puts it this way: "There's no such thing as an unwritten life. Just a badly written one."

Movie Narrative Graphs

Ever get confused by multiple characters in a film's long narrative timeline? The web comic xkcd has an extremely detailed graph showing a timeline for the films Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Jurassic Park, 12 Angry Men, and one of my favorite sci-fi films, Primer. The LOTR graph is quite enormous and intricate, and the Primer one is just funny (you'll have to see the film now!).

Justice is Worship

We're asking what is worship? with the junior highers on Sunday mornings. It's a deep question with a variety of answers, but I'm convinced that worship is more than "those four or five songs during a church service on Sunday mornings." Sure, worship includes music--poetry and songs make up a big chunk of Scripture--and it's also an entire life postured around glorifying God. John the Baptist has one of the simplest and most profound definitions in Scripture:

"He must increase, but I must decrease."

Yet there is a tangible aspect of worship often missing when we hear the word in Christian culture. This quote from Mark Labberton sums it up nicely:

According to the narrative of Scripture, the very heart of how we show and distinguish true worship from false worship is apparent in how we respond to the poor, the oppressed, the neglected, and the forgotten. As of now, I do not see this theme troubling the waters of worship in the American church. But justice and mercy are not add-ons to worship, nor are they the consequences of worship. Justice and mercy are intrinsic to God and therefore intrinsic to the worship of God.

Perhaps the language of worship should include words like "justice," "mission," and "compassion." Perhaps our view of worship should expand from music and prayer and the pondering of Scripture and include fighting injustice.

What would it look like if the primary responsibility of a church's worship pastor wasn't prepare and lead songs for church services? What if it was engage in ending poverty, combat sex trafficking, lead our people to serve the poor and marginalized in our city, help break down systems of oppression, and foster community development?