Whenever my family takes a long trip in our minivan, we allow the kids to watch a movie.  Each time we ask what they would like to watch, and the answer invariably comes back, “Cars.”  They love the movie.  One of my son’s first words was “Cars.”  I actually like the movie a lot too.  Sometimes when I take the van to the store, and the disc is still loaded into the dvd player; I will listen to the movie instead of playing music.  It’s just a really good movie. 

The guys at the Mockingbird blog have released a book entitled, The Gospel According to Pixar.  All of the excerpts that  I have been able to read have been great, but I have appreciated the following excerpt the most.

General Plot:

 Lightening McQueen is the new rookie race car on the block that is stealing headlines with every race. He’s super fast and he knows it. He’s a one man show and vocalizes it. When his pit crew ditches him, he doesn’t care…He’s headed to California to race the final race (between the King–the current Dinoco Spokescar–and Chick) to decide who will win the treasured Piston Cup and become Dinoco’s new spokescar. But on his way to California and a following a string of unfortunate events, Lightening McQueen finds himself on a barren stretch of road in a little town, Radiator Springs. In the midst of this misfit community, of eccentric cars–who do not know or care who Lightening McQueen is–Lightening McQueen will come to experience community and, thus, love, like he never could before being an island of one. The local Judge, Doctor, and former hot-shot race-car, Doc Hudson (aka The Hudson Hornet) will be swept up in McQueen’s experience; McQueen will force Doc to face his past, which remains desperately hidden, and encourages him out of hiding into community. This community and this love will significantly alter the way McQueen (and Doc) see life…to the point of sacrifice.

Gospel Plot:

“Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done!
There are points to be scored.
There are games to be won.
And the magical things you can do with that ball
will make you the winning-est winner of all.
Fame! You’ll be famous as famous can be,
with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.
Except when they don’t.
Because, sometimes they won’t.
I’m afraid that some times
you’ll play lonely games too.
Games you can’t win
‘cause you’ll play against you.
All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something
you’ll be quite a lot”
Dr. Seuss, Oh The Places You’ll Go.

Dr. Seuss is right, alone is something we are quite a lot. We have all been alone. Like Lightening McQueen, we’ve either isolated ourselves intentionally by alienating others on our way to the top; or, unintentionally, like Doc Hudson, by keeping others at a distance, safeguarding our past failures and our present brokenness. Our plans succeed and we are abandoned, left alone, isolated by those who were once close to us; until…

Until something else happens, something meets us from outside of ourselves; even when we are trying like to heck to avoid this very thing.

Eventually we “break down” (McQueen) or we become “found out” (Doc). Being alone is not the final word. At that very intersection of success and brokenness, stands the message of one-way love. At that intersection stands the Cross. McQueen is not left alone, lonely at the top. Doc is not left isolated by his past failures. Something outside of both McQueen and Doc draws them out of themselves; and, thus, into community. Someone loves them by no merit of their own. Mater loves lightening McQueen for absolutely no reason but “just because”. This is one-way love. As Mater’s one-way love flows into McQueen, McQueen can finally love someone else beside himself (Sally, for example). When love is poured in, love pours out. McQueen renovates the town for Sally as a gift, but only after Mater loves him and calls McQueen his “best friend”. The entire band of misfits in Radiator Springs embraces McQueen, and McQueen in turn—against everything that McQueen had stood for—embraces them. And, in light of this one-way love, Doc is affected. Doc is confronted by McQueen and is drawn out of reclusion and back into community (and the spotlight!). McQueen and Doc have true friends and a true family that love them for no reason; and it’s a love that is neither merited by achievements nor conditioned by failures. Mater, Ramon, Flo, Sally, Guido, Luigi, Big Red (etc) love them “just because”, no strings attached.

The Cross:

While surfing the web this morning, I came across a very insightful article written by Michael Belote at  Reboot Christianity.  In the article, Michael attempted to remedy the many misconceptions about Romans 8:28.  He set the passage in its correct context and revealed the great truths of the Grace of God.  Read the complete passage here.  I have posted a portion below:

…In chapter 8, Paul continues his discussion about the Christian struggle with sin by saying that God does not condemn you for these sins (Romans 8:1). He reminds us that we are no longer under sin’s control (even when we fall), but have made ourselves slaves to God (Romans 8:10).

Now we get into some of the most quoted (and most taken-out-of-context) passages you will ever hear. These passages refer to suffering, and thus these are often used to comfort those who suffer. But Paul is not talking about suffering in the general sense. No, here he is talking about suffering in a specific case: how a Christian struggles with the sinfulness in their lives.

This is not a passage intended to be read by those who’ve lost a loved one. This is the passage to read when you feel that you cannot ever get close enough to God. That nothing you are doing is good enough. That you cannot succeed in your quiet times. That your prayer life stinks. That you read the wrong books. That you look at porn on the Internet. That you treated your kids wrong. That you were in a bad mood all day. That you took that extra drink as an alcoholic.

This is the passage Paul wrote for those who are at the end of their rope with their struggles to be a good, Godly person. Read it when you struggle with the fact that you are trying to be a good Christian, but you fail. And remember, when Paul talks about “suffering” or “struggles”, he is specifically referring to our struggles with the fact that we sin despite our best attempts not to do so:

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed in us. The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration not by its own choice, but by the will of the One who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to this time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we are saved. But hope that is seen is not hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. (v.17-25)

Paul here is saying that our present (inward) struggles between our saved soul and our sinful nature are not worth discussing in comparison to the glory that will be revealed when God fully adopts us, after our death. He says that creation is eagerly anticipating our rebirth, when we will have our bodies redeemed and no longer struggle with sin. He reminds us that we must wait patiently for God’s timing…do not get ahead of yourself, Paul says. Continue to do battle against your sinful ways, and know that these struggles will seem unimportant to you once you are revealed in your full glory by God.

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will. And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son, that he might be firstborn among many brothers. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified. What then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all–how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is he who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died–more than that, who was raised to life–is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? (26-35)

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Continuing the theme, Paul writes that we need not fear, because every time we sin the Holy Spirit, given us by Christ, intercedes in prayer with God on our behalf. Do not fear God’s wrath or your sinful nature, Paul says, because God chose you, and God justifies you. And nothing you can do can separate you from the love of God.

You see, then, why Romans 8:28 is generally being taken out of context? Paul is not saying that God intercedes to ensure the “best of all possible worlds” (as Voltaire would sarcastically interpret), despite what you may have heard preached at funerals. No, this is decidedly NOT the best of all possible worlds. The best of all possible worlds is what God created before man started polluting it with sin. The verses before this verse and the verses after are all about the Christian struggling with sin; yet this verse is frequently taken out of context and applied to tragedies in life.

No, what Rom 8:28 means is this: the reason we have convicted hearts when we sin is not because we lost God’s love, but because God wants us to grow into more righteous people. As verse 29 makes clear, we undergo this struggle because God is working on us like a clay, to make us into the image of His Son.

Notice that context also makes clear verse 31–if God be for us, who can be against us? That verses is often misused to say that our enemies cannot conquer us. That is not at all what it means. What it means (see v.32-34) is that we need not worry about condemnation, for God has declared us good. And if God says we are good, then who has the right to condemn us?

I enjoy reading John Shore’s blog.  I was introduced to his writing  through the Huffington’s Post’s religion section.  He had posted his conversion story, and it blew me away.  It is one of the most fascinating stories that I’ve come across in a while.  You can read the whole thing here.  I’ve posted an excerpt below.

…Then one day I was sitting at my desk at work during a totally typical weekday, feeling regretful about a particularly immature, semi-destructive thing I’d recently done, when this feeling started coming over me that in about four seconds had my undivided attention.

“What the hell?” I thought. The next thing I knew, I was very nearly desperate to be alone somewhere. It felt like warm water was filling me up inside — but downward, starting at just beneath my scalp. Right about when the “water” had moved from my neck to my chest, I knew that whatever was happening to me wasn’t going to stop.

And I could tell it was something spiritual, or psychological — or something basically non-physical.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to a co-worker — and then cut out for an auxiliary supply closet in our office that no one ever used. I flipped on its light, closed its door behind me, and waited.

I closed my eyes. The intensity of what was happening made that seem like a good idea.

And what happened, rather all at once, was that I saw what a complete asshole I was. Isn’t that awful? All at once, the truth was before me that instead of being a good guy who’s basically always trying to do the right thing, I was a selfish, emotional weakling who was always doing and saying whatever best served my own needs at the time.

I never lied; but I’d fudge the truth here and there if it didn’t really hurt anybody and would help things roll my way.

I never cheated; but life is complex, and sometimes one has to make deals that more directly serve a Larger Good.

I wanted to help others; but there were so many good shows on TV, especially after a long, rough day at work.

What suddenly became a fact to me was that I’d been fooling myself for so long I’d forgotten the act. I wasn’t the great, honorable person I started out to be, that I’d meant to become — that I actually thought I was. I was just another guy so busy thinking he’s constructing the perfect home that he doesn’t realize how long ago he stopped using a level.

Man, I hate it when that happens.

I hate it when my whole view of myself is suddenly deconstructed and replaced by a view of myself that is so not what I expected.

I hate it when in one second I go from being Batman to being the Penguin.

Actually, though, that wasn’t the worst part. By far.

The worst part was that, accompanying that less-than-peachy view of myself, was the very real knowledge that I was never, ever, ever going to change.

Ever. Never. Ever.

I was born as I was. I had spent my life as I was. And I would die as I’d always been: small, selfish, and mean as a pissed-off penguin.

And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I’d already spent my whole life trying to. Miserable mediocrity was the best I could do. I could achieve that only when I’d somehow pulled it together enough not to be a completely craven animal.

On a good day I was the Penguin!

And then here’s what happened: I saw my death. I mean, I didn’t see myself writhing around after I’d been hit by a truck on the freeway or anything — I didn’t see how I would die. But I did see, in a sort of direct, open tunnel, the disturbingly short distance between where I was, and where I was most certainly going. I saw my mortality. I saw the simple fact that I would die — and that, as surely as one day follows the next, at the moment of my death I wouldn’t be any different from how I’d been at any other moment of my life.

I wasn’t going to get better. I wasn’t going to become stronger, or wiser, or smarter, or more honorable. It just wasn’t going to happen. I was thirty-eight. I was who I’d die being. At best.

Oh, but that was a bad, bad moment for me.

And then my legs disappeared from underneath me. I actually fell on my knees.

In the supply closet.

At my job.

Looking at my miserable, weak future, straight to my miserable, means-nothing death. It was just me and the cold, hard, gray, flat fact of … me. Which was never going to change. I just did not have the will or means or character to change who I was, which was exactly who I’d always been.

I saw that my life, in any way that could possibly matter, was over.

Then I did something I never, ever do. I started to cry.

Because isn’t the whole point of being alive to be someone you’d really want to be?

So I’m kneeling there, blinded by my sad, stupid little fate, when, from up and off to my left, I hear a disembodied voice say something.

And it says what it says in a clear, distinct cartoon voice.

Listen: I grew up glued to cartoons. As a kid, I had absolutely no idea what was happening with adults, who were clearly insane. But Daffy Duck I got. Porky Pig was my kind of guy. Wile E. Coyote? Please — my very alter-ego!

To this day, I practically shiver with joy when The Simpsons are on.

Anyway, of course I can’t exactly describe the cartoon voice I heard. But, you know: goofy, precise, rich, psuedo-edgy. Cartoonish.

And what that voice said, from up and off to my left somewhere — from offstage, as it were — was, “Isn’t this what Jesus is for?”

And just like that, I stopped crying.

And do you know what I knew at that moment — what instantly imprinted itself upon me? That the story of Jesus is historically true. That it happened. That God, desiring above all else to show the people he’d created that he loved them, became a human, and came to earth, and sacrificed himself, and in every way did every thing he possibly could to show people exactly how deeply and terribly he loves them.

That’s what my conversion consisted of: a sudden, sure knowledge that the historical story of Christ is true.

It wasn’t, like, wisdom at all. I wasn’t suddenly filled with the Mind of God, or anything like that. My soul didn’t light up. Angels didn’t sing for me. Nothing like that happened. In a way, it was about as boring as learning the year house paint was invented, or that your bank has slightly altered its Saturday hours. All that had changed was that I was now sure that the story of Christ, about which I had always scoffed (if I ever thought of it at all), was true.

Then it was like how, when it starts to rain, you think about the only thing you can think, which is: “Oh. Now everything will get wet.”

That’s about what I thought: “Oh. Now I’m a Christian.”

So I stood, wiped my eyes, opened the door to the supply closet, and went back to work.

And that was that.

“Why quibble about the fine points of doctrine when the important thing [is] sobriety?  Scripture, however says with good reason, ‘Watch your life and doctrine closely’ (I Tim. 4:16)…. Theology, makes a difference.”   This is how Edward T. Welch begins his book, Addictions:  A Banquet in the Grave – Finding Hope in the Power of the Gospel.  He argues that we may have solid theological principles, but our addictions prove that we have a defective practical theology.  We may profess that “Christ is Lord”, but we live as though our desires are Lord. 

Addicts feel as if they are trapped and out of control. They feel like abject worshippers, devoted to something that can be very dangerous.  They feel desperate hunger and thirst for something.  They feel like they can’t let go, clinging even when the addictive behavior yields very few pleasures and a great deal of pain…. Something or someone other than the living God controls them, and the controlling object tells them how to live, think, and feel.

For example, alcohol tells you to place your own desires above the interest of your family.  Pornography and other forms of adultery tell you that the immediate pleasures are worth it, and you probably won’t get caught anyway…. This is where theology comes in.  Practical theology protects us from the deceptions in our hearts and the competing “isms” of the world.  It sets the boundaries for our lives.  Better yet, accurate theology is a kind of treasure map:  it guides us and compels us to relentlessly search Scripture for more and more relevant, penetrating, enlightening, life-changing truth.  Scripture, after all makes bold claims.  It says that it provides “everything we need for life and godliness” (2 Peter 1:3).

Monergism Books has listed Ed Welch’s book on sale for $11.00.  I read the book about five years ago and found its information very helpful.   Each chapter contains sections for those struggling with addiction and those helping others who are struggling with addiction.  Although the book uses therapeutic language in the title, it is God-centered and Christ-honoring.  Monergism has also posted the first chapter of the book in pdf form here.  Spend the $11.  It will be well worth it.

“Come!” said Javert, “I have heard you out. Have you entirely finished? You will get six months. Now march! The Eternal Father in person could do nothing more.”

At these solemn words, “the Eternal Father in person could do nothing more,” she understood that her fate was sealed. She sank down, murmuring, “Mercy!”

Javert turned his back.

The soldiers seized her by the arms.

A few moments earlier a man had entered, but no one had paid any heed to him. He shut the door, leaned his back against it, and listened to Fantine’s despairing supplications.

At the instant when the soldiers laid their hands upon the unfortunate woman, who would not rise, he emerged from the shadow, and said:–

“One moment, if you please.”

Javert raised his eyes and recognized M. Madeleine. He removed his hat, and, saluting him with a sort of aggrieved awkwardness:–

“Excuse me, Mr. Mayor–”

The words “Mr. Mayor” produced a curious effect upon Fantine. She rose to her feet with one bound, like a spectre springing from the earth, thrust aside the soldiers with both arms, walked straight up to M. Madeleine before any one could prevent her, and gazing intently at him, with a bewildered air, she cried:–

“Ah! so it is you who are M. le Maire!”

Then she burst into a laugh, and spit in his face.

M. Madeleine wiped his face, and said:–

“Inspector Javert, set this woman at liberty.”

From Les Miserbles by Victor Hugo

“It is not the absence of immorality, but the presence of repentance, remorse, and regret that is the dividing line between me and the one who is to be expelled. I am not the brazen faced, seductive woman of Proverbs, lurking around the corner eager with alluring words (Prov. 7, 9). Rather, I am the woman caught in adultery, dragged before the Temple elders in shame, accused correctly of my sins, hoping beyond all hope that someone greater than I am will have mercy. Just when the stones should be thrown, they are not; they drop (John 8). Jesus intervenes, silences my correct accusers, and I lay weeping at His feet, grateful and filled with love for Him who saved me. Because I have been loved by this One, I am not judged immoral, worthy of death as I should be; rather, I am judged righteous, and receive, undeservedly, what I shouldn’t — life.” 

Read the whole article.

Think of yourself as a seed patiently waiting in the earth: waiting to come up a flower in the Gardener’s good time, up into the real world, the real waking. I suppose that our whole present life, looked back on from there, will seem only a drowsy half-waking. We are here in the land of dreams.

But cock-crow is coming. It is nearer now than when I began this letter.

Yours

Jack

–Walter Hooper, ed., The Collected Letters of C. S. Lewis, Volume 3: Narnia, Cambridge, and Joy, 1950-1963 (San Francisco: Harper, 2007), p. 1434;

HT: Dane Ortlund via Between Two Worlds

Every stone that makes you stumble
And cuts you when you fall
Every serpent here that strikes your heel
To curse you when you crawl
The king of love one day will crush them all

And every sad seduction and every clever lie
Every word that woos and wounds the pilgrim children of the sky
The king of love will break them by and by

And you will rise up in the end
You will rise up in the end
I know the night is cruel
But the day is coming soon
And you will rise up in the end

If the thief had to come to plunder when the children were alone
If he ravaged every daughter and murdered every son
Would not their father see this? Would not his anger burn?
And would he not repay the tyrant in the day of his return?
Oh, wait. Oh, wait the day of his return

Cause he will rise up in the end
He will rise up in the end
I know you need a Savior
He is patient in his anger
And he will rise up in the end

And when the stars come crashing to the sea
And the high and mighty fall down on their knees
When you see the Son descending in the sky
The chains of death will fall around your feet

You will rise up in the end
You will rise up in the end
You will rise up in the end

Ben Shive – Ill-Tempered Clavier