Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Akeelah and the Bee
I watched the movie Akeelah and the Bee last weekend. On the whole, it was a thoroughly enjoyable movie. As the case advertised, it was a family-friendly movie. Honesty is the best policy. Love others, even when they’re tough to love. Push each other to be the best they can be. Serve each other, and enjoy doing it. Weep with those who weep. These are all messages that I heard in this movie, which, combined with its engaging and heart-warming plot, make it a “two thumbs up” flick.
There was just one part of it that didn’t sit well with me. About a quarter of the way into the movie, we hear Akeelah read a quote that becomes a sort of a mantra, a motivating element in the movie. It said:
Before I start getting all hyper-picky on you, I’ll tell you what I see of truth in that quote. I can see that for a poor black girl who is growing up in the ghetto, utilizing her gift of being a good speller makes her a social outcast. She is afraid of excelling in school, of speaking with proper grammar, of being too good in a culture that rewards failure and ostracizes achievers. I can see how this quote could also be true in some Asian societies where it shames other people if you are too much better than they are, so students and workers aim to be in the middle of the pack.
But even here, the fundamental fear is not of being too powerful, but of not having power in the way that her particular culture has defined it. In Akeelah’s world, “power” is defined as being cool, not as being smart. In other cultures, “power” is defined as economic success, popularity or looking good. And in those systems, you can never have enough money, friends or good looks – no matter how much you have. It’s a fundamental fact of the human condition that we are not afraid of what we could be, but of what we know we won’t be. We fear that we will never be good enough, smart enough and that, gosh darnit, people won’t like us. We are fundamentally inadequate, and our deepest fear is that we will come face-to-face with this fact some day.
So, you see, I just can’t agree with this quote.* It goes against the testimony of human nature and of the entire history of man. We are power-hungry and can never seem to have enough. Can you imagine Alexander the Great, or Julius Caesar, or Napoleon saying, “I’m so afraid that I’ll wake up one day and find that I have too much power!” Of course not; the Fall itself – and every human sin since then – is characterized by the desire to be our own gods. And, apart from Christ, we won’t be satisfied until we have sated our thirst for being more godlike than God himself.
There was one man in all of history who attained to less and not more power, and that was Christ. He, being in very nature God, deliberately emptied himself (Phil 2:4-11) in order to set us free from the enslaving power of sin. We are now free from the fear that we will be found inadequate, free to recognize the depth of our own sin (the biblical word for "inadequate"), and free to then be afraid of the power that is within us – the remnants of sin that keep pulling us back into the “old man” but that the Holy Spirit gives us the power to fight against.
(* By the way, I googled the quote and discovered that the ‘speaker’ is someone named Marianne Williamson. She’s not speaking about little black girls in ghettos – she’s white as the day is long, and she’s speaking to yuppie America. She’s one of Oprah’s gurus – a new-age proponent who has ‘empowered’ countless people through this very message. Even though people have mistaken her as being a Christian, several years ago, TIME Magazine got it right when they said of her that, “Yoga, the Cabala and Marianne Williamson have been taken up by those seeking a relationship with God that is not strictly tethered to Christianity." What was that I was saying about wanting to have the power that only God can have – especially the God-Man who said, “I am the way, the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father except by me.”)
There was just one part of it that didn’t sit well with me. About a quarter of the way into the movie, we hear Akeelah read a quote that becomes a sort of a mantra, a motivating element in the movie. It said:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are
powerful beyond measure. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? We were born to make
manifest the glory of God that is within us. And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. "
Before I start getting all hyper-picky on you, I’ll tell you what I see of truth in that quote. I can see that for a poor black girl who is growing up in the ghetto, utilizing her gift of being a good speller makes her a social outcast. She is afraid of excelling in school, of speaking with proper grammar, of being too good in a culture that rewards failure and ostracizes achievers. I can see how this quote could also be true in some Asian societies where it shames other people if you are too much better than they are, so students and workers aim to be in the middle of the pack.
But even here, the fundamental fear is not of being too powerful, but of not having power in the way that her particular culture has defined it. In Akeelah’s world, “power” is defined as being cool, not as being smart. In other cultures, “power” is defined as economic success, popularity or looking good. And in those systems, you can never have enough money, friends or good looks – no matter how much you have. It’s a fundamental fact of the human condition that we are not afraid of what we could be, but of what we know we won’t be. We fear that we will never be good enough, smart enough and that, gosh darnit, people won’t like us. We are fundamentally inadequate, and our deepest fear is that we will come face-to-face with this fact some day.
So, you see, I just can’t agree with this quote.* It goes against the testimony of human nature and of the entire history of man. We are power-hungry and can never seem to have enough. Can you imagine Alexander the Great, or Julius Caesar, or Napoleon saying, “I’m so afraid that I’ll wake up one day and find that I have too much power!” Of course not; the Fall itself – and every human sin since then – is characterized by the desire to be our own gods. And, apart from Christ, we won’t be satisfied until we have sated our thirst for being more godlike than God himself.
There was one man in all of history who attained to less and not more power, and that was Christ. He, being in very nature God, deliberately emptied himself (Phil 2:4-11) in order to set us free from the enslaving power of sin. We are now free from the fear that we will be found inadequate, free to recognize the depth of our own sin (the biblical word for "inadequate"), and free to then be afraid of the power that is within us – the remnants of sin that keep pulling us back into the “old man” but that the Holy Spirit gives us the power to fight against.
(* By the way, I googled the quote and discovered that the ‘speaker’ is someone named Marianne Williamson. She’s not speaking about little black girls in ghettos – she’s white as the day is long, and she’s speaking to yuppie America. She’s one of Oprah’s gurus – a new-age proponent who has ‘empowered’ countless people through this very message. Even though people have mistaken her as being a Christian, several years ago, TIME Magazine got it right when they said of her that, “Yoga, the Cabala and Marianne Williamson have been taken up by those seeking a relationship with God that is not strictly tethered to Christianity." What was that I was saying about wanting to have the power that only God can have – especially the God-Man who said, “I am the way, the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father except by me.”)
AW Tozer
"As for man, his days are like grass; as a flower of the field, so he flourishes. For the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more. But the mercy of the Lord is from
everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him, and His righteousness to children's children."
--Psalm 103:15-17
We who follow Christ are men and women of eternity. We must put no confidence in the passing scenes of the disappearing world. We must resist every attempt of Satan to palm off upon us the values that belong to mortality. Nothing less than forever is long enough for us. We view with amused sadness the frenetic scramble of the world to gain a brief moment in the sun. 'The book of the month,' for instance, has a strange sound to one who has dwelt with God and taken his values from the Ancient of Days. 'The man of the year' cannot impress those men and women who are making their plans for that long eternity when days and years have passed away and time is no more.
The church must claim again her ancient dowry of everlastingness. She must begin again to deal with ages and millenniums rather than with days and years. She must not count numbers but test foundations. She must work for permanence rather than for appearance. Her children must seek those enduring things that have been touched with immortality. The shallow brook of popular religion chatters on its nervous way and thinks the ocean too quiet and dull because it
lies deep in its mighty bed and is unaffected by the latest shower.
The Next Chapter After the Last, 9.
everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him, and His righteousness to children's children."
--Psalm 103:15-17
We who follow Christ are men and women of eternity. We must put no confidence in the passing scenes of the disappearing world. We must resist every attempt of Satan to palm off upon us the values that belong to mortality. Nothing less than forever is long enough for us. We view with amused sadness the frenetic scramble of the world to gain a brief moment in the sun. 'The book of the month,' for instance, has a strange sound to one who has dwelt with God and taken his values from the Ancient of Days. 'The man of the year' cannot impress those men and women who are making their plans for that long eternity when days and years have passed away and time is no more.
The church must claim again her ancient dowry of everlastingness. She must begin again to deal with ages and millenniums rather than with days and years. She must not count numbers but test foundations. She must work for permanence rather than for appearance. Her children must seek those enduring things that have been touched with immortality. The shallow brook of popular religion chatters on its nervous way and thinks the ocean too quiet and dull because it
lies deep in its mighty bed and is unaffected by the latest shower.
The Next Chapter After the Last, 9.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Meet Callie
You might have noticed that there were what looked like two Bailey's in the first picture of my most recent post. Then again, you might have been so stunned by the majesty of the poetry and the beauty of that owlish moment that you didn't examine the picture.
But if I've now peaked your interest, there are not, in fact, two Bailey's. There's one Bailey and one Callie (formerly called Kiwi Jellybean -- ugh!).
Callie was abandoned at my vet's office a week or two ago. She's a 2 1/2 year old Boston Terrier who looks like a skinny Bailey whose ears stick up better. She's very playful, loves people and is already pretty much trained. She hasn't been well-socialized with other dogs, so she needs to do some learning how to relate to her brother and her cousins, but they're doing a good job of introducing her to the pack mentality. She loves to play tug-of-war and to shake stuffed animals to death ... she was born to be wild!
I'm still adjusting to the idea that I have two dogs, but I find myself liking her a lot, especially when she follows me around with little eyes that say, "You saved me, I love you."
I actually have some real thoughts to share on this blog, too ... specifically about a movie I just watched, and about Matthew 5:11-12. But you'll have to wait until I have a few moments to actually compose them.
In the meantime, thanks for all your comments (on the blog and verbally) about the owl poem. You make blogging so fun!
But if I've now peaked your interest, there are not, in fact, two Bailey's. There's one Bailey and one Callie (formerly called Kiwi Jellybean -- ugh!).
Callie was abandoned at my vet's office a week or two ago. She's a 2 1/2 year old Boston Terrier who looks like a skinny Bailey whose ears stick up better. She's very playful, loves people and is already pretty much trained. She hasn't been well-socialized with other dogs, so she needs to do some learning how to relate to her brother and her cousins, but they're doing a good job of introducing her to the pack mentality. She loves to play tug-of-war and to shake stuffed animals to death ... she was born to be wild!
I'm still adjusting to the idea that I have two dogs, but I find myself liking her a lot, especially when she follows me around with little eyes that say, "You saved me, I love you."
I actually have some real thoughts to share on this blog, too ... specifically about a movie I just watched, and about Matthew 5:11-12. But you'll have to wait until I have a few moments to actually compose them.
In the meantime, thanks for all your comments (on the blog and verbally) about the owl poem. You make blogging so fun!
Saturday, October 07, 2006
My Apologies to Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a nine-thirty dreary, while Hannah and Molly watched United Ninety-Threary
A sad and serious drama of 9/11 lore.
While puppies nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently scratching, scratching at the fireplace door.
Tis some little mouse I muttered, scratching at the fireplace door,
Only this and nothing more.
Ah distinctly I remember, there might have been a dying ember
In that fireplace’s chamber, had it been a colder evening.
Then Scrappy perked her ears alertly, as scratching sounded more overtly,
And we approached the stove covertly - wondering what it had in store
Tis true that Friday nights in Billings can often be a bore
But this one isn’t, nevermore.
A sad and serious drama of 9/11 lore.
While puppies nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently scratching, scratching at the fireplace door.
Tis some little mouse I muttered, scratching at the fireplace door,
Only this and nothing more.
Ah distinctly I remember, there might have been a dying ember
In that fireplace’s chamber, had it been a colder evening.
Then Scrappy perked her ears alertly, as scratching sounded more overtly,
And we approached the stove covertly - wondering what it had in store
Tis true that Friday nights in Billings can often be a bore
But this one isn’t, nevermore.
“Tis not a mouse, might be a kitty, or a bunny slightly grittyThey’re catlike eyes upon its brow,”
As we with flashlight inward peering, dimly discerned what we were hearing
Suddenly leapt back in stunned surprise, cried “Holy crap, it’s an owl!”
“Let’s call Bill Murray (phone is busy); Who’ll help us? Lewis Vowell?”
“Is it to late to call right now?”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
Called this deacon, “Truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is there’s a scratching, and we’re sure it’s an owl rapping,
And not so faintly is it tapping, tapping at my fireplace door,
That we’re scarce sure what we should do - scared to open wide the door -
-A little birdy, nothing more.”
Into their car leapt Karen and Lew, and to JB Stetson flew,
While we prepared with gloves and blankets, for the show with much ado.
Not the least concern he showed; firmly toward the bird he strode;
With gloves adorned and towel in hand, opened wide the fireplace door.
That bird had hidden its little body, somewhere beyond the fireplace door.
Perched, and hidden, nothing more.
Called this deacon, “Truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is there’s a scratching, and we’re sure it’s an owl rapping,
And not so faintly is it tapping, tapping at my fireplace door,
That we’re scarce sure what we should do - scared to open wide the door -
-A little birdy, nothing more.”
Into their car leapt Karen and Lew, and to JB Stetson flew,
While we prepared with gloves and blankets, for the show with much ado.
Not the least concern he showed; firmly toward the bird he strode;
With gloves adorned and towel in hand, opened wide the fireplace door.
That bird had hidden its little body, somewhere beyond the fireplace door.
Perched, and hidden, nothing more.
Then the owl-let, greatly flitting, and no longer quietly sitting,
Felt itself be captured, into hands that nabbed that raptor.
Then triumphantly he brought it, showed the women how he caught it,
And how carefully he brought it out the sliding glassy door,
Released it from its ashy-prison, to the night sky was restored
To be a captive - nevermore!
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Eight things that make me smile in the morning
I am not a morning person, but here are eight things that make me smile in the morning:
- My dog's silky ears when he lays his head next to my face to get me up.
- My dog's antics in the morning (sleeping on his back with his legs stretched straight out is one of them; he also hangs off of the edge of the bed and watches me get ready).
- When I actually manage to have a good quiet time after I wake up.
- A picture of T.L. (smirking) on my desktop at work.
- Opening an email addressed to "Chimp and Moolly" (that happened yesterday).
- My new french press that makes good, strong coffee and is fun to use.
- When someone has a cake or other "sweet" in the kitchen, on which I can breakfast.
- Waking up on Saturday and getting to sleep in!
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