Amazing Grace - the Movie
Ann and I saw
Amazing Grace this week. It's the story of the abolition crusade in England led by Wilber Wilberforce. In a day and time when Christianity is marginalized in public media, it’s nothing short of amazing that filmmakers would choose the career of a publicly professing believer, as its subject.
There’s something of a subplot that features John Newton, the composer of the song,“Amazing Grace.” In a day and time when Christians are reluctant to identify themselves with any thoughts, movements, and actions that appear to be counter cultural, Wilberforce’s story inspires courage for the timid believer.
As always the scriptwriters find it necessary to stretch historical accuracy for the sake of the story, but the basic story is true. I found it a bit disconcerting to deal with their handling of time. If I get it right Wilberforce is defending the American Revolution after it was over. The abolition struggle went on over a period of twenty years, and it’s hard to keep up with what’s a flashback and what isn’t. Wilberforce didn’t seem to age much in twenty years. They sing the song to an American tune that was composed long after Newton’s death. That’s because we’re used to hearing the American version. I wondered why they never sang the verse that begins, “When we’ve been there ten thousand years….” Later I learned that John Newton did not write that verse. Some sources attribute it to Harriet Beecher Stowe, although others claim a later composer.
The movie has been criticized for showing two many scenes of debate in the British Parliament. I thought that was one of the best parts of the show. I’m sure the way they presented the developing romance with Wilberforce’s future wife was probably contrived, but added comic relief to an intense story.
If you haven’t seen it, I would recommend it. If you are committed to viewing only movies that contain no profanity, (there was only a few words in the whole movie-Ann) you probably need to go to the video store and check out some fifties flicks. I thought it unnecessary to the story, but it did not detract from the larger message. Speaking of sound, when the movie first started I thought the theater had completely lost its sound amplification. Don’t complain to the manager because you don’t hear anything until after all the title stuff is displayed on the screen. It seems to have worked. The people around me sat in total silence. I didn’t hear anything during that time.
Accept One Another
In Romans 1:11-12, Paul said, “I long to see you so that I may impart to you some spiritual gift to make you strong—that is, that you and I may be mutually encouraged by each other's faith.” As the text of Romans unfolds it’s clear that the church at Rome was divided in sentiment. There’s a statement near the end of his letter which ought to challenge us during a time when our world is polarized internationally, nationally, locally, and spiritually. How are Christians going to treat one another in a society where vast differences exist? His answer is “Accept one another then, just as Christ has accepted you.” That was a major objective for Paul, and it should be ours as well.
The Cup of Thanksgiving
In preparing my Bible class lesson this week, I spent some time with 1 Corinthians 10. In verse 16, Paul says, “Is not the cup of thanksgiving for which we give thanks a participation in the blood of Christ.” As I reflected on that verse I thought about the numerous communion devotions I’ve heard from those who preside at the table. I could not think of a single time I had ever heard anyone (myself included) refer to the fruit of the vine as the “cup of thanksgiving” (or “cup of blessing” depending on the translation). I asked my class this morning, and none of them had ever heard it either, which is strange considering that we think of ourselves as a people of the Bible. It occurs to me that this thought opens up an entirely new dimension of understanding the nature of the Lord’s Supper. Gratitude ought to fill our hearts from beginning to end. The longer I live the more I’m drawn to the blessing of the cross.
Machine Conquers Man
For quite a few years I’ve owned a table saw. It’s a handy piece of equipment that needs to be treated with respect, which I do 99.75 per cent of the time. It’s that other .25 per cent that got me in trouble.
I had it all set up in the garage, and made perfect cuts on some quarter inch interior plywood. It’s my practice to avoid standing directly behind the blade. Once in a while the saw decides to kick a piece of lumber backwards with a tremendous amount of force. If you don’t believe machines possess a certain amount of intelligence, you’ve probably never used a table saw. Not only does it possess intelligence, it has evil intent and waits for the operator to be caught off guard. I would compare it to standing behind a mule, but I don’t have many readers left who know anything about mules.
In this instance I was standing well the side of the saw blade. I made my cut slicker than STP on a screwdriver. I removed the board on the left side of the saw blade, and then reached to my right to turn the saw off. Unfortunately I forgot about the piece of board on the right side of the blade. Don’t get ahead of me. If you understand mules, think of standing to the left of a mule’s hind legs, and reaching to the right across both legs to unhitch the trace chain. If you don’t know what a trace chain is, I’m not gonna tell you. I would estimate that it took less than a second more for me to reach the switch. But within a nanosecond the blade caught the remaining board and hurled it against my arm. I yelled, but my yelling was not profane, though if I have ever been justified in cussing, this surely must have been the time.
Nurse Ann to the Rescue
I’m not as smart as some people, as evidenced by my run-in with the saw. On the other hand Burl and Ruby Bales didn’t raise a fool when they guided me through the tender years of life. When I chose a life partner, I chose “Nurse Ann.” I didn’t marry her because she’s a nurse, but I’ll have to admit that it was a pretty good deal – like buying a pair of shoes, and having the salesman throw in a pair of socks for the same price.
I went howling into the den, holding my arm. She said, “What did you do?” You’ve got to understand why that was the natural question to ask. Not only did she obtain a college degree in nursing, and become a board certified RN in three states, she also earned a degree in psychology, which is why “What did you do?” was the first question. You’ve got to deal with angst before you get to the bloody stuff. However she didn’t ask, “Why did you do it?” She knows that “why” isn’t considered a therapeutic question. I’m glad she didn’t refer me to a psychiatrist.
Once she got therapy out of the way, she got down to the business of nursing. Fortunately I was wearing a long sleeved shirt. I didn’t see a lot of damage, but of course I couldn’t see through my shirtsleeve. She said, “Roll up your sleeve.” I really didn’t like what I saw. I had a three-inch gash across the inner side of my forearm and it was dripping blood. Since I suffer from a hereditary bleeding condition, it can get scary if you bleed in the wrong place. I was hoping I didn’t have any HHT lesions anywhere along the gash.
The first order of business was damage assessment. She cleaned the wound with hydrogen peroxide in order to determine how much damage was done. I was glad she didn’t choose alcohol as the cleansing agent. There was good news and scary news. The gash was reasonably superficial. The scary news was the fact that it missed my blood vessel by less than an inch. I am most grateful.
When I first began dating Ann, I thought nurses were supposed to be gentle, soothing, and sympathetic. Well she is that, but she also kicks assertiveness into high gear. Once I realized the wound looks a lot worse than it is, I began to make plans to complete the project. She assured me that I would be doing no such thing. I protested, “But somebody’s got to put the saw up, and get my project out of the way.” My “project” – a bookcase - was spread out on the floor of our bedroom with no room to walk around. I thought this would probably not be the best time to initiate a discussion about asserting male authority. She let me know the stuff in the way wasn’t my problem. I acquiesced all though I was still wondering how she was going to clear out all those obstacles.
She prepared an ice pack and ordered me to sit in a chair with my arm held high in the air. Perhaps “ordered” isn’t the best choice of words, but she didn’t say, “Sweetheart, honey-bun, sugar, I’d really like it if you would hold your hand in the air.” It was supposed to prevent edema – that’s nurse talk for swelling. Think about holding your hand up for a long time waiting for the teacher to let you talk in class. Eventually she brought me a pillow and let me rest it against the back of my recliner. After she let me take it back down, I got up and tried to do a few things, and realized my range of motion was severely restricted, and my arm strength was practically gone. I brushed my teeth, but it was a struggle. Believe it or not, she put up my saw (in the right place) and picked up the bookcase.
She crammed my mouth full of medications, covered the wound with antibiotic cream and sent me to bed. To let you know the whole story, she reaffirmed her love, and expressed her gratitude for my avoidance of serious injury. I slept well and was surprised to find that much of my range of motion had returned the next morning. By afternoon I was able to go out and rake the yard. However, my arm strength leaves a lot to be desired.
My arm still looks bad. I showed it to one of my friends, a macho tough guy type, and I thought I saw him turn pale. So I’m wearing long sleeved shirts and careful about who I allow to look at it. This morning I had to fight the women off at church. That was because they wanted to hug me on the right side, and it just wouldn’t work.
ON MASCULINITY
My experience with the table saw reminded me of a recent radio commercial. The purpose of the spot is to encourage men to have regular prostate examinations. Several guys are talking, and one of them says something about the connection between prostate cancer and the male mortality rate. At first there’s silence, and then one guy speaks up. “Did any of you guys watch figure skating on television last night? Man that triple axel was something else.” He would prefer to talk about anything other than his own vulnerability to disease. To me the commercial suggests that men aren’t as tough as they would like for people to think they are. We can’t admit our weaknesses in a direct manner, so we choose to ignore threatening subjects. I have two thoughts about masculinity. (1) Masculinity is not defined by physical strength, tough talk, coarse language, and how fast your car can go. (2) Masculinity is defined by a willingness to accept responsibility, by being courageous enough to admit one’s shortcoming, and by showing enough kindness to help a few human beings who is in need.
Evidence of God's Presence
Sometimes I find it hard to feel a sense of personal relationship with God because he is unseen. Intellectually I know the relationship exists.
Let's suppose I see the tracks of a wild animal in the woods – say a deer, a wildcat or some other animal who does not readily expose himself to human sight. My sighting of the tracks convinces me of two things: (1) The animal exists, and (2) the same animal has been in close promixty to my position.
So it is with God. I see the evidence of his presence even though I can't perceive him through any of my senses. Sometimes I don't even feel his presence. Nevertheless, I am given enough evidence to make my faith reasonable.
God's involvement in my life from birth until now is apparent to me. I'm a child of the depression, and my parents did not own a crib when I was born. On the first night of my life, they placed me on a pillow and put the pillow on a chair by the side of their bed. I must have slipped off the pillow. They woke up and I was sliding off. What woke them? My crying of course.
Why was I crying. I had no previous exeprience to indicate that I might be in danger. I’ve been told that babies have a fear of falling – the only fear they are born with. Who placed that fear within me? God was present in my life on the very first night and so it has been throughout my life.
I have been preserved in a magnificent way. I believe that God has taken care of my wants, so that I might be involved in significant ministry. I don’t always measure up to my opportunity. Nevertheless I am confident of his presence and his purpose and I am grateful for it.
SOAP OPERA THEOLOGY
It’s amazing what you can learn if you pay attention to what’s going on around you. I really wasn’t paying all that much attention when I pushed my grocery cart up to the cash register at Kroger. I was going through a mental checklist to make sure I got everything Miz Ann wrote on the list. As you might imagine, I missed a few things on the checklist,but that’s not my fault. My concentration was broken when the man in front of me said, “Did I hear you say you are going to pay from my groceries.”
I don’t know what the man was smoking or what made him think that I was his sugar daddy, but I assured him that paying for his groceries was not on my agenda for that day. He laughed and said that he often uses that as a conversation starter. I’m sure it does begin a discussion most of the time. He turned out to be a nice guy, and we had an enjoyable conversation.
At one point he said, “You need to have a little fun in life. It’s like my pastor says, ‘As the world turns you have only one life to live, and you’re probably going to end up in the general hospital.’” I said something about spending too much time with daytime television, and we went our separate ways. As I reflect on it, I think his soap opera theology is one story too short. Here’s my amended version, “As the world turns, you have only one life to live, and you’re probably going to end up in general hospital. Therefore you need to search for the guiding light.”
JUSTIFICATION AND THE LORD'S SUPPER
There is both a blessing and a threat in our regular observance of the Lord’s Supper.
It’s a threat when it is mechanically repeated. If it becomes mundane, routine, and meaningless, it is a threat to our spiritual development. It’s a blessing when we understand what it celebrates.
I want to ask you to think about the meaning of a five-syllable word. That’s risky because you lose some of us when you use long words. Preachers and theologians love to work them into their presentations. We enjoy using terms like “atonement,” “regeneration,” “glorification,” “sanctification,” and one of my personal favorites – “propitiation.” These are all good terms, and full of meaning, but they don’t mean a thing to person who reads nothing any deeper than the sports section of the newspaper.
My word for the day is “Justification.” Justification is a legal term It’describes what happens in a court of law. If a person is accused of committing a crime, the court convenes to see if the accused is justified. But nobody is really just. About the best our courts can do is to declare a defendant, “not guilty.” In God’s presence we can’t even do that. According to scripture we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory God (Roman 3:23).
But through God’s grace, we are allowed to be treated as if we are actually just. That can only happen because Jesus died for us. These are the very next after the one that convicts all of us, offers this good news. We “…are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” Here’s the really good news. We’re not just, but we are treated as if we are. What does that have to do with the Lord’s Supper? No unjust person is allowed to dine with God. We are not just, but God sees us as justified through the blood of his son. The Lord’s Supper reminds us that we get to dine with the Lord at his table.
