movies

Real Love

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I’d like to preface this by confessing my lack of expertise in this area, but here goes.

I think true love doesn’t always look like it does in the movies.

It’s not as dramatic and there’s usually no orchestra playing a grand theme in the background when it happens.

There may or may not be butterflies and it may or may not happen in an instant, though I’m inclined to believe that the best of true loves happen gradually over time as friends realize that they are in love with each other.

Sometimes, I think people miss true love because they expect it to be like it is in those rom-com movies and in those Nicholas Sparks books and in all those love songs.

I’m not saying that movie-love never ever happens outside of the movies, but more that it isn’t the norm.

Love isn’t a feeling as much as it is an act of the will. A choice. A commitment to seek the welfare of the beloved regardless of whether you feel like it or not. And the feelings will come and go. You will probably fall in and out of love many times but you can always choose to love consistently through it all. Sometimes you have to act loving and do loving things before the loving feeling comes.

As I understand it, love isn’t easy. Love takes work. It takes dying to your own needs sometimes and putting the other’s needs above yours. It takes dying to your ways of doing things and your perceptions about how those things ought to be done.

I think it’s okay to watch those Hallmark movies or listen to those love songs as long as you don’t confuse them for reality. Real love isn’t as flowery or poetic but in the end, it’s something far more grand.

Never forget that real love led a Man to a Cross to be tortured and bleed and die for you and me. Real love said that no price was too high to win your heart. To win my heart.

That, my friends, is real love.

I Miss Record Stores

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I’m a big fan of Amazon. You can find virtually anything from music to books to movies to electronics and appliances. I think you can even order groceries there now. But I miss record stores.

I don’t even mean places like Borders that sold books and music and movies. I mean places that sold music. Period.

Granted, there are one or two record stores in Nashville– one that actually sells honest-to-goodness vinyl records like in the ye olden days. But those are on the other side of town from where I live. Not the most convenient places to go browsing.

I remember one particular music store chain called The Sound Shop. There was even Memphis-based chain in Memphis called Cat’s Music that had both new and used music.

I loved checking out the new music releases as well as hunting through the bargain bins. I especially remember seeing ads for a new Grateful Dead album coming out on October 31, 1989. I don’t know why I remember that specific memory from 25 years ago and not what I did last night, but that’s how my brain works, apparently.

I read somewhere that Vince Gill said that one of the reasons that music feels so disposable these days is that you can pay the same 99 cents for a song that you would pay for an app on your phone that makes fart noises. So much for incentives to be creative.

I believe that music more than any other form of media can trigger memories in vivid detail. I can hear a song on the radio or from one of my own personal plethora of CDs that I have accumulated over the years and instantly remember exactly where I was and what I was feeling when I first heard it.

Maybe record stores (along with bookstores) will make a comeback some day. I hope so, but I’m not overly optimistic.

 

 

Not Forgotten

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It’s funny that it took the death of Robin Williams to put him back in the spotlight. Suddenly, all his movies are flying off the shelves at places like Best Buy and Barnes & Noble and seemingly every other hashtag is some variation of either #ohcaptainmycaptain or #riprobinwilliams. Before he died, I hadn’t really thought about him much. Or at all. At least not in a long, long time.

We as a culture are so good at eulogizing and paying tribute to those we’ve lost, but not so good at remembering them while they’re still with us. And we have such short memories. Soon, we’ll be back to business as usual– until the next tragedy or until the next big celebrity passes away.

But something occurred to me just now.

There is never a moment when I am not on God’s mind. There’s not a time when He doesn’t see me and what I’m going through. There will never be an instant when He doesn’t love me as unconditionally and completely as if I were the only person on the planet.

You hardly ever hear anyone talk about Whitney Houston anymore. Or Philip Seymour Hoffman. Soon, all the talk about Robin Williams will die down and we’ll find something new to talk about.

But not in a million years will my God forget me. Not in a billion years will He ever desert me. His love for me will never ever decrease by even one iota. Not even if I were to forget Him.

I’m sitting in St. Paul’s with the lights off. It’s dark and quiet and still. The only sounds I hear are the hum of the air conditioning unit and the occasional pops and creaks of the old floorboards settling.

I am at peace. I’m reminded of what’s really important and what really matters. It’s not what you have or what you do for a living or who you know. It’s about being known and loved and cherished perfectly by the God who made you.

Remember this one thing if nothing else. You are not forgotten.

Revisiting the Shire

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I’m re-reading The Lord of the Rings. I’ve actually lost count of how many times I’ve read this book (side note: there are not three books, but one book in three parts).

It’s like going back to a familiar vacation spot. I get to revisit places like Bag End, where Bilbo Baggins lives, and The Shire. I can go back to the Prancing Pony or even climb Weathertop again. I wish there really was a Rivendell or Lothlorien to visit for an extended period of time.

If you don’t know what any of these places are, I recommend reading Lord of the Rings. Start with The Hobbit. If you’re feeling really brave, pick up The Silmarillion.

I have so many books on my to-read list that I’ll have to live to be 200 to get them all read. And I keep adding more books to that list. I read one and buy three, which even according to my own math skills doesn’t add up. So why do I keep reading the same books over and over?

Because some are just that good. I get my Narnia fix and go back to Middle Earth to check out those wacky hobbits because those books stir up feelings and desires in me that make me want to be a better person.

Plus, every time I read them, I pick up something new that I’ve missed before. Plus, I get the thrill of anticipating what I know is about to happen next.

They do make pills for this.

If you re-read certain books every year, I’d like to know. It would be nice knowing I’m not the only one who does this.

Plus, I can add even MORE books to my to-read list. Yay.

PS I’ve seen the movies and it helps me visualize the characters and places in the book. Just thought I’d thrown that one in for free.

I like the movies, but I much prefer the books. You can’t really do justice to this book unless you make ridiculously long movies that almost no one would go see. Plus, who would they get to play the part of Tom Bombadil?

Sometimes You Just Need a Little Ella in Your Life

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I am about to go on record and make a bold statement: I have old fashioned tastes in movies. I’m not a fan of movies with lots of unbelievable car chases and overblown dialogue and cars that turn into robots. I don’t like moves that are a BLAST (Big, Loud, And Stupid, Too).

I like movies with characters and situations I can relate to. I like well-written dialogue and well-thought out plot twists. I want to have to think a bit and not always be able to predict what’s coming next.

I like old movies. I think if I could only have one channel on my TV, it would be TCM. They show the best classic movies.

I also am becoming more and more of a fan of old music. I know I sound like an old fart when I say what I’m about to say, but I don’t care. I like music with a melody and singers who can sing. Like Ella Fitzgerald.

I love her voice and her impeccable phrasing. Truly, there was no one else like her. And there never will be.

Sometimes, I need to take a break from modern music and get my Ella fix. Her music makes me feel nostalgic for an era that was way before my time. It relaxes me and makes me feel better.

What was the point of all this? I forget. Maybe that it’s good to go old-school and retro every once in a while. Or maybe to like what you like and not card whether it’s hip or cool or if anybody else likes it.

Yeah, that must be it.

Time Machines and All That

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I had a mini-marathon of Mad Men Season 6 tonight. Every time I watch that  show, I have a longing to be transported back to the 60’s and all the history that was in the making during those years.

There’s something  about retro and nostalgia that comforts me. Even if it’s from before my time, I’m still drawn to it.

I had an idea for a motel that I think would work. Each room would be completely furnished from whatever was popular and trendy from a particular year or decade. So, there might be a room dedicated to 1965 or to the 50’s. And there wouldn’t be any technology that came after in these rooms.

Maybe that’s a dumb idea, but I’d pay to see that.

Sometimes, I think I’d like to go back and sit and talk with people in my life who have passed on. People like my grandmother and two uncles on my Dad’s side. Both my grandfathers. My childhood friend. People that I at times took for granted and now wish I could spend time with.

This may be me repeating myself yet again, but don’t take those people in your life for granted. Don’t ever assume they know how you feel about them. Nothing brings more regret than unspoken words. People are in your life for a limited time and once they’re gone, you can never retrieve the time or the chances you had with them.

I know that scientifically time machines aren’t possible. But I still like the idea of them. I like reading stories and seeing movies about people who can travel through time. It just appeals to me.

I may not be able to go back in time or into the future, but I can be fully present where I am and not miss the moments God gives me. That’s the best I can do to honor those who are gone from my life.

 

It’s A Good Feeling When . . .

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It’s a good feeling when you can finally be you– the real you– with no shame or embarrassment. That you can be a full-on goober and not care what anybody else thinks. That you can be the ultimate anti-hipster and go against all that is hip and trendy and not give a rat’s . . . tail.

It’s a good feeling when people walk out of your life and you can smile and wave goodbye and move forward. When you know the people who mind don’t matter and the people who matter don’t mind. The people in your life are God’s blessing to you. When He removes people from your life, it’s often a bigger– though underappreciated– blessing. You never really know what He protected and saved you from when He did that.

It’s a good feeling when you’re content with who you are and realize the best things in life can’t be bought or sold or even valued. When you hear your Abba’s voice and decide that that one voice speaks more meaningfully to you than all the other voices of popularity and fame and success.

It’s a good feeling when you can finally forgive yourself for not being all things to all people, for not being perfect all the time, for being a forgiven sinner and not a first-rate saint. It really is a good feeling when you can not only hear God calling you His beloved in whom He is well pleased, but receive it and live out of it and never ever get over it.

So go live boldly. Make big mistakes and fail ridiculously. As one of my favorite quotes from a movies goes, “Have the courage to fail big and stick around and make ’em wonder why you’re still smilin’.”

And most of all, go out and love being you because not even you can love being you as much as God does.

 

Old Movies and Theology

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I just watched an old movie. Surprise.

I saw Boys Town, a 1938 movie starring Spencer Tracy and Mickey Rooney. It was definitely a feel-good movie, though it didn’t start out that way. I believe it was based on the true story of the founding of Boys Town.

The point of the movie is that Father Flanagan was trying to help boys who didn’t have mothers or fathers to look after them, who would otherwise end up on the streets and involved in crime. He wanted them to learn how to live as decent citizens and decent human beings.

I think we sometimes are quick to judge those who act differently than we do. Or maybe whose sins are different than ours. It’s very easy to condemn someone who struggles with an addiction or issue that we don’t struggle with.

But maybe what people need isn’t to hear how they’ve messed up and are headed down the wrong path. They probably figured that one out already. Maybe what people need is to know that someone out there knows and cares about them. That maybe, just maybe, they can change.

That’s what the Gospel really is. We like to harp on the sin part sometimes and maybe get a little too much satisfaction from telling people how bad they are, how they’re sinners headed straight to hell. Maybe we need to emphasize that it doesn’t have to be that way. Maybe we need to point out that God loved the world so much that He gave Jesus so that it wouldn’t have to be  that way.

Jesus didn’t come to tell good people how good they were. He didn’t come to make healthy people feel good about their health. He came for the bad, the messed up, the sick, the broken. Which by the way means all of us.

Before you write off someone else, remember who you used to be. Who you might still have been but for the grace of God. That just might make all the difference in the world. In that person’s world.

 

17 Days In

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I reported to you earlier that I had decided to give up not only Facebook, but all forms of social media this year for Lent. Obviously excluding WordPress.

It’s been 17 days (by my count) out of 46. So far, so good. I haven’t missed social media like I thought I would. In fact, most of the time, I don’t really even think about it much.

I’ve used my newfound free time in catching up on my reading and movie watching. On the book front, I’m currently reading Anne of the Islands (the third book of the Anne of Green Gables series– don’t judge) as well as diligently reading through The Voice translation of the Bible (I’m up to Isaiah 23).

Recently, I re-watched all the Harry Potter movies and remembered why I liked them so much the first time. Also, I was astounded all over again at how many incredible well-known actors they enlisted for these film adaptations of children’s books.

I find myself less anxious and more calm without social media. I do miss seeing what my friends post, but I also don’t miss checking to see who commented on my own posts (a bad habit that I still sometimes struggle with).

I’m still praying for more discipline and more willingness to create space and silence for God to speak to me. I’m praying for the ability to quiet my own mind and listen to that Still Small Voice that will never compete with my own noise.

That’s all I have for now. I’ll keep you posted for the remaining 29 days of Lent.

Choices

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“It is not our abilities that show what we truly are. It is our choices” (Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets).

Yes, I know. I just quote from a Harry Potter movie. Egads.

I’ve read all the books and seen all the movies and I liked every one of them. I especially liked the magic as metaphor theme. I think that these books aren’t really about magic as much as they are about growing up, discovering who you are, and learning what truly matters. But that is a topic for another blog on another day.

I do think that it’s not our abilities but what we do with them that ultimately matters in the end. I’ve seen people with loads of natural ability bested by people not nearly as talented but far more determined. Especially in the arena of sports.

One of the most famous choices is the one Joshua made early in the history of the nation of Israel. He basically said that while the others were free to worship whatever gods they wanted that he and his family would choose to serve Yahweh and Yahweh alone. No other.

That same choice is offered to me. Daily. And daily I must choose whether I will serve Jesus or something else, which usually ends up being my own selfish desires. Sometimes I actually choose right, but more often than I’d like I choose wrong. I choose me.

Also, I think we choose whether or not we’ll give up on those who let us down or give them second chances. We choose who we let into our inner struggles and who we shut out. We choose role-playing versus authenticity and honesty.

But ultimately, it’s about who to serve. As the famous theologian Bob Dylan said, you gotta serve somebody. So who will you choose?