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We're all pretty bizarre - some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all.
Showing posts with label watch and see. Show all posts
Showing posts with label watch and see. Show all posts
Monday, June 04, 2007
...demented and sad, but social.
We're all pretty bizarre - some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
LR Film Fest - Sunday
My friend Cari is in town for a few months. I’ve known Cari since 2001, and she has been traveling back and forth to Uganda for as long as I’ve known her with the goal of establishing a children’s home. About two years ago, Cari moved to Kampala and this is her second trip back to the States. She is teaching English at a boys’ home, to women in a slum, to Congolese refugee children and to families that have fled the war in Northern Uganda (she’s a multi-tasker).
Before leaving for Arkansas, Cari received word that she had been approved to begin working on setting up a non-profit that will help her to start a school and sponsor more children with school fees. She already sponsors several girls ($35 dollars a month takes care of their schooling, housing, nutritional and general care needs), but since she depends on sponsorship herself there is only so much she can do. There is still a lot of legal paperwork – she has only been approved to begin the process, the non-profit itself still has to be approved – but this is good news, indeed.
So Cari is in town, and Sunday night’s final film was a documentary filmed in Northern Uganda entitled War Dance. *Warning* this film will make you want to sell everything you own to care for these families. On second thought, ignore the warning and go see the film. The first time I saw Hotel Rwanda and Invisible Children were with Cari, as well… you’d think I’d learn that these movies are harder with her by my side! (Luckily she wasn’t around for Blood Diamond).
War Dance is not filmed in a pure documentary style. A large amount of the filming consists of the children telling their own back stories with creatively dramatic screen shots that draw you into their e
yes and their pain. But War Dance is not all about the pain – and there is plenty of it, and it is horrific – it is primarily about hope. The children have won the opportunity to represent their tribe, Acholi, in the national music competition. One of the most important parts of the competition for them is to perform a traditional tribal dance. When the children speak of singing, dancing and playing instruments their voices ring with joy. When they are singing, dancing and playing instruments the children’s eyes shine. Performing their dance together gives them pride. Music gives them hope.
Saturday, we celebrated my friend Pauline’s college graduation. Her mother flew in from Kenya and her cousin from California. My friend Miriam, who is also Kenyan, was there as well as my friend Blaine from Cameroon. There was much discussion around the dinner table about tribal customs and traditions – primarily because we have also received the news that Cari will be getting married in December and her fiancé is from Kenya. Listening to my friends discuss the importance of one’s tribe on Saturday really helped to accentuate the importance of these children, who had lost so much, being given the opportunity to represent their Acholi tribe to all of Uganda.
Before leaving for Arkansas, Cari received word that she had been approved to begin working on setting up a non-profit that will help her to start a school and sponsor more children with school fees. She already sponsors several girls ($35 dollars a month takes care of their schooling, housing, nutritional and general care needs), but since she depends on sponsorship herself there is only so much she can do. There is still a lot of legal paperwork – she has only been approved to begin the process, the non-profit itself still has to be approved – but this is good news, indeed.
So Cari is in town, and Sunday night’s final film was a documentary filmed in Northern Uganda entitled War Dance. *Warning* this film will make you want to sell everything you own to care for these families. On second thought, ignore the warning and go see the film. The first time I saw Hotel Rwanda and Invisible Children were with Cari, as well… you’d think I’d learn that these movies are harder with her by my side! (Luckily she wasn’t around for Blood Diamond).
War Dance is not filmed in a pure documentary style. A large amount of the filming consists of the children telling their own back stories with creatively dramatic screen shots that draw you into their e
yes and their pain. But War Dance is not all about the pain – and there is plenty of it, and it is horrific – it is primarily about hope. The children have won the opportunity to represent their tribe, Acholi, in the national music competition. One of the most important parts of the competition for them is to perform a traditional tribal dance. When the children speak of singing, dancing and playing instruments their voices ring with joy. When they are singing, dancing and playing instruments the children’s eyes shine. Performing their dance together gives them pride. Music gives them hope.Saturday, we celebrated my friend Pauline’s college graduation. Her mother flew in from Kenya and her cousin from California. My friend Miriam, who is also Kenyan, was there as well as my friend Blaine from Cameroon. There was much discussion around the dinner table about tribal customs and traditions – primarily because we have also received the news that Cari will be getting married in December and her fiancé is from Kenya. Listening to my friends discuss the importance of one’s tribe on Saturday really helped to accentuate the importance of these children, who had lost so much, being given the opportunity to represent their Acholi tribe to all of Uganda.
One of the girls mentions in the film that this is the way people think everyone in Africa lives, but this is not the way everyone in Africa lives. I think of my friends who are from African nations, and I know that is not how they live. I think of what my reaction would be if they were back home and I heard that the same thing was going on in their city. Would I still be so complacent?
Go see this documentary. Learn about what is going on in Uganda. Pray for Cari and for the children and adults and churches she is working with. And if you feel so led to send some money her way, let me know and I can give you the info (after all, you’ll have plenty to give after you sell everything you own, right?).
LR Film Fest - Saturday
Saturday was a busy day with friends, marked only by one film: Towncraft.
I knew there was a lot of buzz about this documentary on the Little Rock music scene, so I was concerned when I got to the theatre one minute prior to showtime and had to park in the back forty of the lot. The line was out the door, and I thought I had missed my chance, until I realized they were only slowly seating non-pass holders. I knew my investment had been worth it when I and my trusty film festival lanyard sauntered past the hordes and into the perfect middle row, center seat that awaited me.
I, for one, was entertained. And I’m quite certain the audience around me was, too. There was a lot of laughter, a lot of whispering between friends, and a lot of smiles. I was well aware that many of these people had been reminiscing together all week long, with a week’s worth of concerts and the official premier screening the night before. Saturday evening capped off the week with a second screening of the documentary and a finale concert at Revolution (props to Ho-Hum). The atmosphere at that show was full of more energy than I had seen in awhile, no doubt stirred up by everyone being knee deep in the hoopla.
What stirred up for me were flashbacks to high school and the struggle of finding my place. To be fair, I should go back to my freshman year and the infamous Dunbar Junior High School. We had moved back to Arkansas toward the end of my 5th grade year and, after a few months of sleeping on a wood framed couch at my grandparent’s house, found an apartment on Chicot Road in Southwest Little Rock. Eventually my stepfather at the time returned for his final round, and we found a rent house in the Baseline/Geyer Springs area which became home. I won’t get into the stories from those days, but suffice it to say I didn’t exactly have the most enriching social scene. We were a bunch of kids without money or guidance, and that goes where it leads.
The façade of desegregation hung over the Little Rock School District, so kids were being bused around for hours a day just to keep them in the same circles they would have been in their own neighborhoods. Three packed buses were routed from the east side of Geyer Springs to Dunbar, which desegregated us in with our counterparts from Downtown Little Rock. Let me tell you, the diversity would have underwhelmed you. However, Little Rock was also in the process of establishing magnet schools at the time which offered courses in concentrated subject areas – an effort to attract students (or more importantly, their parents) to schools they might not otherwise consider. My sister attended one of these, which at the time was simply Parkview Fine Arts Magnet (PFAM). It was kind of like Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day: she got the cool shoes, and I got the plain old white ones.
My neighborhood life and school life mirrored each other, and I did my best to fit into both. But I always was an odd child, and having deep thoughts and social concerns doesn’t really have much place in an mixed-up culture of hair bands and hammer pants. So I adapted to my environment, and I did so pretty well. But something interesting happened my freshman year, when Dunbar suddenly morphed into a Gifted and Talented/International Studies magnet school. There were these strange new kids there from places I had never been, like the Heights and West Little Rock (consequently, there were scared as hell to be at Dunbar). I approached with caution, but found some of these creatures intriguing. They thought saving the earth was cool. They knew who Bob Dylan was. We actually had intelligent discussions about what we were learning in civics class. I was enrolled in a Gifted and Talented Seminar class where critical and creative thinking were encouraged and fostered.
The ultimate culture shock came when my mom insisted that I enroll at Parkview, rather than McClellan High School (which was in our neighborhood and which all of my “friends” were planning to attend). Parkview had moved on from the PFAM days of my sister and was now an Arts & Science combined magnet program. I, of the dramatic disposition, registered for the theatre program (following in the footsteps of my sister) and was accepted for enrollment. It didn’t take long for my Southwest friends and me to drift paths – and it didn’t take long for me to realize how grateful I was for the split.
At Parkview, I was instantly smitten with a group of artsy, hippie seniors who were kind enough to extend friendship to a displaced sophomore from the ’09. They read all kinds of interesting stuff and listened to interesting music and watched interesting films and saw interesting plays… and they didn’t even get extra credit for it. For the first time since we had left New Mexico, someone knew who the Violent Femmes and the Cure and Siouxie and the Banshees were... and they liked them. They were kind and spiritual and weird and intelligent and creative. They were going to change the world, but they weren’t going to let it change them. They were into things like Baha’i and veganism and experimental poetry. One of those seniors, who I didn’t get to know very well, was Colin Brooks. Colin is featured prominently in the Towncraft documentary, which is what connects the film with my ramblings.
In a complicated twist of fortune, a few months into my sophomore year I became a Christian, thanks to a girl I had bullied in junior high and who didn’t end up staying around the church long herself. The same year I was opening up to a world of art and thought and expression and soul, I was learning what it meant to be a part of the southern-baptist-youth-group culture. I tried to balance participating in the Patchwork Coffeehouse events with participating in youth rallies. I ushered at the Rep and greeted newcomers to Sunday school. I submitted creative writings for the Patchwork Pegasus and learned how to have a daily quiet time. So went most of my high school experience, my constant state of limbo.
All in all, I don’t think I would go back and trade my church experience for a lack of one, but I do wish there could have been something more - someone to show me how to live Christ out in the culture, instead of how to mold myself to this modern culture of the church. My friends at school weren’t bothered by the fact I was a Christian, but many of the people in my church were bothered by my friends at school (and they were an interesting variety). I had great discipleship and grew very quickly in my faith and enjoyed all of the time I spent with them, but I lost pieces of myself in the process. I had been opened up to this new world that fit like a glove, and then quickly had to surrender it again (albeit, this time for something worth wearing).
It took a long time to grow into myself again, and the process included a lot of questioning things I had been taught and shedding things I thought I needed. It’s still a process, but now the process is more of a growth than of a breaking free. And that is all I want to extend to others: here’s Christ, and here’s what he teaches, and he and I both want to hang out with you where you are, and he is probably going to change you in dramatic ways because that’s what he does, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to squeeze you into a mold. It will be awkward at times, and the weight of it all may overwhelm you on occasion, but it will good and it will be worth it.
I knew there was a lot of buzz about this documentary on the Little Rock music scene, so I was concerned when I got to the theatre one minute prior to showtime and had to park in the back forty of the lot. The line was out the door, and I thought I had missed my chance, until I realized they were only slowly seating non-pass holders. I knew my investment had been worth it when I and my trusty film festival lanyard sauntered past the hordes and into the perfect middle row, center seat that awaited me.
I, for one, was entertained. And I’m quite certain the audience around me was, too. There was a lot of laughter, a lot of whispering between friends, and a lot of smiles. I was well aware that many of these people had been reminiscing together all week long, with a week’s worth of concerts and the official premier screening the night before. Saturday evening capped off the week with a second screening of the documentary and a finale concert at Revolution (props to Ho-Hum). The atmosphere at that show was full of more energy than I had seen in awhile, no doubt stirred up by everyone being knee deep in the hoopla.
What stirred up for me were flashbacks to high school and the struggle of finding my place. To be fair, I should go back to my freshman year and the infamous Dunbar Junior High School. We had moved back to Arkansas toward the end of my 5th grade year and, after a few months of sleeping on a wood framed couch at my grandparent’s house, found an apartment on Chicot Road in Southwest Little Rock. Eventually my stepfather at the time returned for his final round, and we found a rent house in the Baseline/Geyer Springs area which became home. I won’t get into the stories from those days, but suffice it to say I didn’t exactly have the most enriching social scene. We were a bunch of kids without money or guidance, and that goes where it leads.
The façade of desegregation hung over the Little Rock School District, so kids were being bused around for hours a day just to keep them in the same circles they would have been in their own neighborhoods. Three packed buses were routed from the east side of Geyer Springs to Dunbar, which desegregated us in with our counterparts from Downtown Little Rock. Let me tell you, the diversity would have underwhelmed you. However, Little Rock was also in the process of establishing magnet schools at the time which offered courses in concentrated subject areas – an effort to attract students (or more importantly, their parents) to schools they might not otherwise consider. My sister attended one of these, which at the time was simply Parkview Fine Arts Magnet (PFAM). It was kind of like Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day: she got the cool shoes, and I got the plain old white ones.
My neighborhood life and school life mirrored each other, and I did my best to fit into both. But I always was an odd child, and having deep thoughts and social concerns doesn’t really have much place in an mixed-up culture of hair bands and hammer pants. So I adapted to my environment, and I did so pretty well. But something interesting happened my freshman year, when Dunbar suddenly morphed into a Gifted and Talented/International Studies magnet school. There were these strange new kids there from places I had never been, like the Heights and West Little Rock (consequently, there were scared as hell to be at Dunbar). I approached with caution, but found some of these creatures intriguing. They thought saving the earth was cool. They knew who Bob Dylan was. We actually had intelligent discussions about what we were learning in civics class. I was enrolled in a Gifted and Talented Seminar class where critical and creative thinking were encouraged and fostered.
The ultimate culture shock came when my mom insisted that I enroll at Parkview, rather than McClellan High School (which was in our neighborhood and which all of my “friends” were planning to attend). Parkview had moved on from the PFAM days of my sister and was now an Arts & Science combined magnet program. I, of the dramatic disposition, registered for the theatre program (following in the footsteps of my sister) and was accepted for enrollment. It didn’t take long for my Southwest friends and me to drift paths – and it didn’t take long for me to realize how grateful I was for the split.
At Parkview, I was instantly smitten with a group of artsy, hippie seniors who were kind enough to extend friendship to a displaced sophomore from the ’09. They read all kinds of interesting stuff and listened to interesting music and watched interesting films and saw interesting plays… and they didn’t even get extra credit for it. For the first time since we had left New Mexico, someone knew who the Violent Femmes and the Cure and Siouxie and the Banshees were... and they liked them. They were kind and spiritual and weird and intelligent and creative. They were going to change the world, but they weren’t going to let it change them. They were into things like Baha’i and veganism and experimental poetry. One of those seniors, who I didn’t get to know very well, was Colin Brooks. Colin is featured prominently in the Towncraft documentary, which is what connects the film with my ramblings.
In a complicated twist of fortune, a few months into my sophomore year I became a Christian, thanks to a girl I had bullied in junior high and who didn’t end up staying around the church long herself. The same year I was opening up to a world of art and thought and expression and soul, I was learning what it meant to be a part of the southern-baptist-youth-group culture. I tried to balance participating in the Patchwork Coffeehouse events with participating in youth rallies. I ushered at the Rep and greeted newcomers to Sunday school. I submitted creative writings for the Patchwork Pegasus and learned how to have a daily quiet time. So went most of my high school experience, my constant state of limbo.
All in all, I don’t think I would go back and trade my church experience for a lack of one, but I do wish there could have been something more - someone to show me how to live Christ out in the culture, instead of how to mold myself to this modern culture of the church. My friends at school weren’t bothered by the fact I was a Christian, but many of the people in my church were bothered by my friends at school (and they were an interesting variety). I had great discipleship and grew very quickly in my faith and enjoyed all of the time I spent with them, but I lost pieces of myself in the process. I had been opened up to this new world that fit like a glove, and then quickly had to surrender it again (albeit, this time for something worth wearing).
It took a long time to grow into myself again, and the process included a lot of questioning things I had been taught and shedding things I thought I needed. It’s still a process, but now the process is more of a growth than of a breaking free. And that is all I want to extend to others: here’s Christ, and here’s what he teaches, and he and I both want to hang out with you where you are, and he is probably going to change you in dramatic ways because that’s what he does, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to squeeze you into a mold. It will be awkward at times, and the weight of it all may overwhelm you on occasion, but it will good and it will be worth it.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
LR Film Fest - Friday
I’ve done my best to catch what I can of the Little Rock Film Festival , between working, watching friends graduate, thinking about cleaning my room and such. I clocked out early on Friday so I could get down to the Chamber of Commerce building in time for the Arkansas Shorts Program and my first viewing of 50/50.
The highlight of the Shorts for me, and it seemed for the rest of the audience, was the 13 minute documentary Under the Bridge. Through these brief minutes, Jon Crawford and Robert Jenkins were able to completely pull the audience’s attention away from the art of filmmaking and channel that enthusiasm and energy toward the issue of homelessness in Little Rock. The documentary followed a variety of people living on the streets, showcased some of the people who are helping in little ways and featured an interview with Michael Stoops from the National Coalition for the Homeless, a feisty and intelligent man who I have had the honor to hear speak twice. It was amazing. The Q&A with the filmmakers was almost centrally focused on this one film and, particularly, on its subject. Why is Little Rock considered one of the meanest cities for the homeless? Your film mentioned that one of the shelters was closing down – did it actually close? What is currently being done for the homeless? Suddenly the information this audience had ignored in the op-ed section of the Democrat-Gazette for months and years had become important to them in 13 minutes.
The best question of the evening came from a man I affectionately refer to as Drunk Rich Guy. This guy reminds me of Herman Munster, you can’t miss his brooding presence in a room. And though I have no knowledge of him actually being drunk, his loud, direct and imposing way of asking questions at every lecture and event I encounter him at leaves me with that impression. Not that his questions aren’t good, just abrasive. I also have no knowledge of him being rich but, again, he carries that air about him. He has influence or, if he doesn’t, he plans to. So Drunk Rich Guy asks this guy if it is correct that these 13 minutes were actually pulled from a longer feature? Yes. Has the longer feature been shown in Little Rock yet? No. If I give you my card to arrange for a showing of the full feature, would you be interested? Absolutely. I, for one, can not wait.
You know you are at a film festival in Little Rock, Arkansas when there are only eight other people in a particular screening with y
The final film I caught Friday night was Hip Hop Project. Not sure if I wanted to sit through a movie or go home and sleep, I was rewarded with redemption for the decision to stay and catch this film.
A few weeks ago, the director of an outreach program for inner city youth spoke at the beginning of my Perspectives course. I know this man’s heart (sharing the love of Christ) and I know his background (growing up in “the hood” – his words), so I admire his sincerity. But when he spoke of Hip Hop as being from the devil, sent here to pull people into sin and keep them there, I just couldn’t receive what he was saying. Yeah, I had some Hip Hop albums confiscated when I was younger… and for good reason. But I’ve also been inspired by Hip Hop, I’ve been encouraged by Hip Hop, I’ve been floored by emotions cap
Hip Hop Project isn’t about the destructiveness of the art form, it’s about healing. The tagline of the film comes from a question Kazi asks participants, If you had the whole world listening, what would you have to say? And these kids had a lot to say. They had a lot to say about hurt and love and forgiveness and confusion and regret and redemption. As in Exist, I was able to glimpse the grace of forgiveness - this time, as a man had to learn to extend unrequited forgiveness to the mother who had abandoned him as a child. Watching a person’s concentrated effort to transform frustration into unconditional love would have been enough in itself.
However, this film was much more than a reminder of what is beautiful about the explosive lyrical poetry that is Hip Hop music, but a reminder that art has purpose. I have always highly valued art in all of its visual, audible and performance forms. But lately I have become a bit jaded. Sometimes when I am focused on the grand scheme of life, I get overwhelmed with the frivolousness of decaying cathedrals and million dollar paintings. But Hip Hop Project reminded me that some emotions and ideas are best communicated through art… some are only communicated through art. There’s a reason the Psalms speak so powerfully to our souls. There’s a reason Jesus employed the art of storytelling. Art isn’t always an escape from the realities of life – more often it is an expression of the reality of life, in a way that only art can reveal.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
little jimmy james...
I am so glad I have my Little Rock Film Festival pass. I'm just flipping through all of my viewing options, and I came across this classic gem. Were any of my clothes harmed in the making of this film? So when do we get to see the crazy rock cave hacker flick? That's the one I'm holding my breath for...
Friday, January 13, 2006
~ moral dilemma ~
Those who know me know my devotion to Richard Linklater. Those who know me know I detest Keanu Reeves. So how do I reconcile my love and loathing when I comes to A Scanner Darkly?
... of course, I have been known to watch Sweet November, but that is only because Charlize Theron's apartment is so damn cool!
... of course, I have been known to watch Sweet November, but that is only because Charlize Theron's apartment is so damn cool!
Sunday, June 19, 2005
they're baaaaaccckk...
Just when I thought I was pulling away from T.V., I see things that suck me back in. I have already made amends with myself regarding Gilmore Girls and Lost... I know I am addicted to these shows and I figure if I could just watch those two (and even record and play back at a more convenient time), then I could give up the remote on all else. Except for maybe Clean Sweep and Clean House (hey, a girl's gotta stay organized). And of course I have to catch Extreme Home Makeover (its Gandhi with a toolbelt). And to get my news fix, I need to watch The Daily Show and Best Week Ever. But really, I can do without all that other stuff. Then I start seeing them... previews for new shows I just have to see (of course, I was just walking by the T.V. as someone else was watching... I was not sitting in front of it). And not even really crappy stuff with really crappy people (though I'm sure there is plenty of that). I'm talking Stella Comedy on Comedy Central (my boyfriend Michael Ian Black and his trusty sidekick Michael Showalter). I'm talking My Name is Earl on one of those regular channels with none other than Jason Lee (unibrow and all). I really think I need therapy... or a new VCR tape. Or a life. Naah...
Friday, October 15, 2004
return of the king of darkness
I do not like scary movies, gory movies, or violent movies. I do however reserve the right to revoke the previous statement, as I have done for the likes of Fight Club and Kill Bill. Once upon a time, a friend named Irby (no, the title is not in reference to him) convinced me to watch a little horror flick despite my protest. Mind you, I believe that Hellraiser was one of the selections for that evening, and the parts of it I unfortunately glimpsed are still stuck in my brain to this day. However, in one of his moments of wise decision-making, he introduced me to one of my favorite movies ~ The Prophecy. Now if you haven’t seen the movie, be careful going to find it. It has been known to get mixed up at Blockbuster with a film by a similar name about some furry alien creatures or something like that. I also would recommend not bothering with the sequel, or with The Prophecy III, which really were not very necessary additions to the first. Luckily, I own a personal copy, which sits on the shelf right next to Stephen King’s The Stand.
I realized last night that this movie had a little too much impact on my psyche. Last night at my women’s bible study we were discussing the Holy Spirit and Satan and all of that good stuff. Also, last Sunday’s sermon was about the origins of Satan. So I’m all in the mood to pull out The Prophecy and brush up on my quotes. The movie is a great illustration for the lack of power that Satan actually holds in the world. Is he evil? Sure. Is he powerful? Sure. But he is not all-powerful, and like it or not, he is still under God’s control.
Just to give you an idea of how entertaining this movie is, you have Eric Stoltz as the angel Simon, and Adam Goldberg & Amanda Plummer as undead. But most importantly, you have Christopher Walken as Gabriel and Viggo Mortensen as Lucifer ~ need I say more? Anyway, on to the point of my post… without trying to summarize the whole movie, Gabriel is fighting the humans (specifically one named Thomas) over an evil soul. (“but I thought Gabriel was a good angel” – just watch the movie). We were talking in our study about being aware of the warring principalities around us, and if that awareness should be a source of fear. My mind automatically shifted into movie illustration mode, where in the opening sequence of the movie Thomas asks the question: “Some people lose their faith because Heaven shows them too little. But how many people lose their faith because Heaven showed them too much?”
The movie gives us a glimpse of the spiritual warfare occurring around us, but it simultaneously gives us a glaring vision of Satan’s lack of power. Lucifer, trying to establish comradery withThomas in an attempt to gain his compliance, confides: “You know what Hell really is Thomas? It's not lakes of burning oil or chains of ice. It's being removed from God's sight. It's hard to believe... so hard.” Satan knows what Hell is – that is his realm, after all – and he knows that it’s hard to be removed from God’s sight. If Satan were an all-powerful being, he would be confronting God on His own plane, but Satan has been completely removed from God’s sight. God has basically given him the hand, and Satan can’t do anything about it. As if his personal knowledge of his pitiful state were not enough, Gabriel also confronts Lucifer about his separation from God: “Lucifer. Sitting in your basement. Sulking about your breakup with the boss. You're nothing.” You almost want to feel sorry for the guy, excepting that he’s the prince of darkness and all that.
Its really quite an empowering thing to know that all of God’s power is accessible to us through His Spirit that lives within us, and that the power we fear (or at least blame) the most really has no power at all ~ Other than the power to sway our weak minds and even weaker emotions ~ but hey, the guys gotta have a little fun…
I realized last night that this movie had a little too much impact on my psyche. Last night at my women’s bible study we were discussing the Holy Spirit and Satan and all of that good stuff. Also, last Sunday’s sermon was about the origins of Satan. So I’m all in the mood to pull out The Prophecy and brush up on my quotes. The movie is a great illustration for the lack of power that Satan actually holds in the world. Is he evil? Sure. Is he powerful? Sure. But he is not all-powerful, and like it or not, he is still under God’s control.
Just to give you an idea of how entertaining this movie is, you have Eric Stoltz as the angel Simon, and Adam Goldberg & Amanda Plummer as undead. But most importantly, you have Christopher Walken as Gabriel and Viggo Mortensen as Lucifer ~ need I say more? Anyway, on to the point of my post… without trying to summarize the whole movie, Gabriel is fighting the humans (specifically one named Thomas) over an evil soul. (“but I thought Gabriel was a good angel” – just watch the movie). We were talking in our study about being aware of the warring principalities around us, and if that awareness should be a source of fear. My mind automatically shifted into movie illustration mode, where in the opening sequence of the movie Thomas asks the question: “Some people lose their faith because Heaven shows them too little. But how many people lose their faith because Heaven showed them too much?”
The movie gives us a glimpse of the spiritual warfare occurring around us, but it simultaneously gives us a glaring vision of Satan’s lack of power. Lucifer, trying to establish comradery withThomas in an attempt to gain his compliance, confides: “You know what Hell really is Thomas? It's not lakes of burning oil or chains of ice. It's being removed from God's sight. It's hard to believe... so hard.” Satan knows what Hell is – that is his realm, after all – and he knows that it’s hard to be removed from God’s sight. If Satan were an all-powerful being, he would be confronting God on His own plane, but Satan has been completely removed from God’s sight. God has basically given him the hand, and Satan can’t do anything about it. As if his personal knowledge of his pitiful state were not enough, Gabriel also confronts Lucifer about his separation from God: “Lucifer. Sitting in your basement. Sulking about your breakup with the boss. You're nothing.” You almost want to feel sorry for the guy, excepting that he’s the prince of darkness and all that.
Its really quite an empowering thing to know that all of God’s power is accessible to us through His Spirit that lives within us, and that the power we fear (or at least blame) the most really has no power at all ~ Other than the power to sway our weak minds and even weaker emotions ~ but hey, the guys gotta have a little fun…
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