Pitch Black

I haven't forgotten my new blogging manifesto from a few weeks back, my promise not to waste my time and words on trite matters. I'm not going to witter endlessly about how cool the aliens are in Pitch Black. I have slightly loftier ambitions than that.
For those of you who who haven't seen it, Pitch Black is a sci-fi film from 2000, starring Vin Diesel (star of The Fast & The Furious, XXX and a bunch of other stuff very few of us have seen) as a convict being transported on a freighter along with some random passengers, when it is forced to crash land by a meteor shower that catastrophically damages their ship.
The planet they land on has three suns and therefore permanent daylight. This is fortunate, since light-sensitive creatures live underground who like the taste of human flesh and have very sharp teeth and claws. An abandoned human settlement with a transport ship is found and with it, the prospect of escaping from this hostile, dry planet. All they need to do is take the energy cells from their stricken ship and transfer them to the new vessel. Oh and then there is a solar eclipse, which brings the light-sensitive beasties up to the surface for a feeding frenzy.
If that all sounds like typical B-movie shlock, then to an extent it is. However, there are some genuinely thought provoking moments that bear some consideration.
Firstly, towards the end, one character who is one of the few who can pilot the ship is offered a chance by Vin's character to leave the remaining survivors behind but refuses the opportunity.
"Would you die for them?" says Vin. "I would try for them", she replies. "Answer the question", he insists. "Yes", she relents, "I would die for them". It is not clear to what extent he is moved by her attitude to change his own course, but rather than abandon all of them, he agrees to go back and help rescue the remaining survivors. A hardened, violent criminal, inspired by the example of selflessness he sees in another to change his course and live more sacrificially.
The remaining survivors make it back to the ship and Vin gets cornered by two of the underground creatures. Although he survives their attack, he is badly injured and the pilot come back for him, to help him back to the ship. Sadly, she is then grabbed herself and dragged off into the darkness. "No!" Yells Vin, "not for me!" He knows what kind of man he is, what kind of life he has led, how undeserving he is of this sacrifice, that it would cost someone their own life to save him. He almost cannot live with the idea that someone would do that for him, when he knows what sort of man he is.
But grace and compassion are like that. They do not look to what we deserve, but what we need. We may find it hard to look at the sacrifice of another for our benefit and struggle to accept it. "Not for me!" We cry, "I'm not worth it. I cannot live with the knowledge that though I deserved nothing you still did this for me". But He did. He did it anyway and we can only sit back in awe and then move forward in gratitude, humbly offering our lives in His service as a thank offering.

Fathers

I confess that the first I heard of this man getting a life sentence for fathering 9 children (7 of whom still survive) with his two daughters, was when the findings of a major case review were published yesterday. Apparently over the course of 25 years they fell pregnant 19 times, with 9 full-term pregnancies and then 2 newly born deaths. Horrendous, horrific, disturbing.
The case review was focused on the failings of agencies and institutions who perhaps should have identified what was happening within this family and done something about it. The names of the family members have been omitted in order to preserve anonymity, understandable with both daughters and their seven children still living with the devastating truth of what has happened.
It makes me want to cry. I am not so naive as to think that such things do not happen, that such behaviour is not possible. I know it is, but on a personal level I cannot fathom how a father would act in such a way. He will be branded an "evil man", no doubt. Perhaps even "inhuman" or "a monster". I've lost my temper with my kids plenty of times, been frustrated with them as I suppose all fathers do from time to time. But how does one get from that to the fate of Family Q? Labelling the father evil or inhuman may help to distance him from the rest of "normal" society, may help reassure us that he is an aberration and does not reflect on the rest of us, but the reality is that whatever happened to him as he grew up, whatever influences were exerted on him that helped to shape/mould/warp/mutate his character, he was once a helpless newborn baby, just like the rest of us.
What happened? No-one wakes up one morning and decides to become abusive. These things must surely fester, grow, develop. What happened to him? I'm not trying to excuse him. To suggest that he is a victim in all of this, that he could not help it because of the way he was brought up would be a ghastly simplification and a possible excusing of behaviour that was in some way, at some point, a conscious decision. What he did was horrific, inexcusable and all of my sympathies lie with his daughters, his son and the seven children who came into the world in the some of the most horrendous circumstances imaginable. I have prayed for God's grace and peace and healing to be with them, for the pain, the scars, the trauma to heal. I do not know them so I can do no more, but perhaps even if I did know them there would be nothing better I could do for them.
I don't know what the future holds for them, or what the rest of his life holds for the father. Does he now understand that what he did was wrong, the most horrific betrayal of his role as a father? Does he see no wrong in himself? I know that God is just and the judge of all mankind and will do what is right. Beyond that, I do not understand.
I hugged and kissed my children a lot yesterday, much more than usual. I told them that I love them and will continue to say it, mean it and show it. They are so precious to me and so much of their life, especially as grown ups will trace its roots back to how I raise them now. I have an awesome responsibility, an opportunity to help shape their lives and characters in the most profound way. Like the day my daughter first appeared in the kitchen in her ballet outfit and asked me, with eyes all expectant, "how do I look Daddy?" So much hung on my next words and thank you God, I got it right that day.
My God's grace be with all of us to be the men, the fathers God has made and called us to be. May our children be blessed to have us and may they feel the impact of our fatherhood throughout their lives.

Chaos and Upheaval

It has been a momentous few days. An online glitch with the Playstation 3 led to some online contributor calling yesterday, "the day the earth stood still". Meanwhile, there is "chaos" amongst the Pussycat Dolls, as two of their members leave. Like I said, a momentous few days, but I have hope that we will come through this time of turmoil intact and find ourselves stronger for having steadfastly endured such turbulent times. Gamers will hopefully not have lost any online trophies they have accumulated and fans of The Pussycat Dolls will still be able to enjoy their back-catalogue and maybe, who knows, find another band to follow and appreciate.
For heavens sake people, is this what qualifies for news, calamity and upheaval these days. Do we remember Haiti? A few weeks ago, nearly quarter of a million people died and although the news has moved on, no doubt the lives of Haitians remain as chaotic, miserable and problematic as ever. Hundreds have died in Chile, millions remain displaced in Darfur. For the love of God, let's focus our lives, our energy, our thoughts, our time on something of genuine significance. By all means enjoy playing games and listening to pop music, but have some perspective. At a time when so many are suffering so much, the question of whether two men are going to shake hands or not when they meet is of less than no importance.

Dear Heroin

I read an article in Metro this morning about a young girl who got hooked on heroin. She wrote a letter to heroin, telling it how ashamed she was of how she had acted, how she wanted nothing more to do with it, was finished with it and was moving on with her life. Three weeks later, at the age of 17, she died of a heroin overdose. My heart breaks over such stories. Another life destroyed.
She said the following in the letter, "I did love you but now it's time to say goodbye", "I'm going to prove to everyone that I'm going to stay away from you", "I can beat you anytime. I can control you, you don't control me. I've got enough willpower to get you out of my life for good. I'm strong and much stronger than you can ever be".
Her story would be tragic enough as it is, without the added dimension of this letter. How did it happen? How did she get caught up in such a deadly addiction at such a young age? Answers to these questions don't really help her or her family at what must be a time of unbearable sadness.
I don't know any heroin addicts, but I met one once and its hold as a drug is unimaginably strong. Clearly it was too much for Hannah as well, despite her protestations to the contrary. Her claims to be strong enough to beat it, of having enough willpower, all now ring hollow. Such claims from all of us, about all of the struggles, trials and temptations of life must also ring hollow too. We are not strong enough, we cannot beat it, we do not have the willpower. We are weak, fallible, fallen human beings and we cannot be better or do better just by willing. The power of positive thinking is a myth and a dangerous one at that.
I believe that power, true power, life-transforming, heart-renewing power can only, does only come from God. We cannot "beat it", whatever it might be, but we do not need to, because God already has. We are super-conquerors, through him who loved us. We can do all things through him who gives us strength. You see, none of this comes from us, none of it can come from us. It can only come from him. God is the answer. He is the strength we lack, the power we do not possess in ourselves. When Jesus died on the cross, he defeated sin, death, sickness, addiction. It was all triumphed over. These things are still around, but they are writhing around in their death-throes, rather than marching around in rude health. I cannot overcome my addictions on my own, but God's power is available for me to do so. If I trust in him, ask for his help and surrender my life to him, victory is assured. God has defeated it all.
I pray that God's peace, grace and blessings will be with Hannah Meredith's parents and wider family. I cannot imagine the pain you are going through and I do not presume that my words are any comfort. I pray that God would comfort you and that you would feel his love at this time and always.

Ashley & Cheryl Cole

I cannot imagine what they are each going through, their four-year marriage now lying in tatters. The human, self-righteous part of me wants to call Ashley Cole a cretin, a 24-carat moron who did not understand what a good thing he had. But the grace of God calls me to a different response. You see, my sin is no less black than his, no less obnoxious to the holy God under whose gaze we all live our lives. I am no better than him, no less in need of forgiveness, no more acceptable to God or deserving of his grace.
My heart goes out to both of them and although Cheryl might be seen as the victim in all of this, I am praying for Ashley as well. His ankle injury is jeopardising his chances of playing in the World Cup, his professional and personal reputation is shredded, he's facing a possible £400,000 fine from his team and it looks like his marriage is over. It is so easy to say that he only has himself to blame and he could have acted differently, but that could be said of us all. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
Many will say that as a role model, a man in the public eye that others, especially the young, look up to, admire and imitate, Ashley should do better, that it is right that more be expected of him. My concern is that the fact that someone is in the public eye does not in and of itself bestow on that person the necessary character to enable them to live up to elevated expectations. Just because everyone is watching me, does not mean that I magically become a better man. It's a little different for, say, a politician. A young person planning to enter politics will expect to have their life scrutinised, will expect to be held up to exacting moral and ethical standards and, given a modicum of self-awareness, will reflect on whether their character is up to the task.
For Ashley Cole (and I suppose John Terry), they would have had no reason to consider the strength of their moral character when they set out on their chosen career. They would not have anticipated the level of interest in and attention to their lives that would arise in years to come and even if they had, it would not be unreasonable to expect their reaction to be, "who cares? I can play football. That's all that matters". Clearly that's not all that matters. The content of our character matters for all of us, whether we are in the public eye or not. No-one should be unfaithful, no-one should betray their marriage vows, but my point is that it is ridiculous to expect that someone attaining celebrity will by itself have a transforming effect on their character. Even if someone was self-aware enough to see a problem we all know that character flaws have no easy fixes. Such flaws sit deep, with strong roots and are not easily rectified.
So I feel so very sad for Ashley & Cheryl Cole. I feel sad that their marriage seems to be ending. I feel sad that Ashley Cole must bear so much abuse from a vicious, self-righteous, hypocritical and judgemental press. I feel sad that he appears to have failed to honour his marriage vows and that he did not have what it took to make his marriage work. I feel sad that no-one seems to have come alongside him and said, "this life is tough at times, let me walk with you and help you find your way". He seems alone, which is the saddest thing of all. May God's grace be upon you both.

Fantastic Four

Yes, it's films again. I know, get a life, etc, etc.
So, I watched 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer again last night. I last saw it at the cinema with my son, when we accidentally walked into the wrong screen and got as far as the BBFC screen for Hostel: Pt 2 before I realised our error. The film itself didn't especially affect me back then, but since then I have been provoked to consider more carefully what I watch and think about its meaning.
Watching it again last night I found myself thinking of sacrifice. Norin Rad, the eponymous surfer says he has no choice but to lead Galactus, the devourer of worlds to one planet after another. He says that the lives of his family, his whole home world is at stake. In the end though, he decides that his own fate is not worth protecting when compared to bringing an end to the destruction of Galactus. In the end he stands in the gap, stops Galactus and destroys him, seemingly at the cost of his own life, although we do get the stereotypical Hollywood, "he's okay really, in case we want another sequel".
Sacrifice is always costly. It will definitely cost us and it may cost others too. For the Silver Surfer, if he had failed it would have cost him his life and those of his family, but it was a risk worth taking. As another big budget effects-laden extravaganza would have it, no sacrifice, no victory. Destruction was heading our way too. Just as earth was entirely ill-equipped to stop Galactus, a planet-munching ball of gas and energy, so too were we entirely incapable of doing anything to stop the inevitable out-pouring of the wrath of God for our sin. He is holy, we are sinful - the punishment was due and deserved. God owed us nothing.
But because he is rich in mercy, God made us alive in Christ when we were still dead in our transgressions. We could not help ourselves and we did not deserve any help. Just as Norin Rad owed us nothing, so too was the case with Jesus. But he came anyway. He laid down his life for us. He took upon himself the full outpouring of God's wrath, so that we who could not have borne it and lived would not have to. He took our punishment so that we need not take it ourselves.
God, who owed us nothing and against whom we had only ever sinned, took it all. He did not come to seek his own good, or to be waited on or worshipped. He came so that he could die, so that the price could be paid, the debt satisfied and so that we could go free.
Amazing love, oh what sacrifice. The son of God, given for me. My debt he pays and my death he dies. That I might live. That I might live.

Christ Crucified

I have just finished listening to a talk from CJ Mahaney of Sovereign Grace Ministries on "The Cup", namely the cup of suffering Jesus drank from in the Garden of Gethsemane, before he was taken away to be tried and ultimately crucified. I do not intend to precis that talk, or "review" it as such. But it was so profoundly moving and affecting a talk and I feel compelled to write something down to try to capture my thoughts as a result of what I have heard.
The Cross and Jesus death on it stand at the very centre of the Christian faith. Without it, there is no access to God, no forgiveness of sins, no life with him now or ever, no hope. Paul writes that he resolves to know nothing except Christ and him crucified and I feel similarly resolved myself. It is hard to do so. Hard to dwell on and focus on something so painful. It is hard to be confronted at every turn with reminders of my sinfulness, my fallenness, my helplessness. It is hard to remember every moment of every day that Jesus took upon himself the punishment for everything I have ever done wrong. As CJ puts it, he drank that cup dry so that I would never have to drink of it. Instead of me bearing the punishment for my own sin, as I rightly should, Jesus came, fully God and fully man and said he would take it himself. He had done nothing wrong, ever. He was in fact the one who was wronged, the one against whose perfect holiness all of my sin had been committed. He, who had only ever been hurt by my sin, made perfect atonement for it, by taking the punishment for all of it. God poured out all of his wrath, all of the punishment warranted by all of my sin and he poured it on himself, in the person of his Son.
That Son, who had dwelt forever with the Father in perfect love, fellowship and harmony, offered himself before God as a sacrifice, offered to bear it all. As he prayed and wept in the garden, Jesus contemplated for the first time his impending isolation from the Father. He knew that he would soon be alone and although he would then soon be reunited with his Father, he knew that he must face this hour without the support of and union with the Father that he had enjoyed since before time began.
What pain, what anguish, what a burden to bear! The physical pain of the flogging and crucifixion that awaited himwas hardly something to look forward to, but it was not this that immediately troubled him so. He knew he would die and he knew how, he had told his disciples as much as they approached Jerusalem. Now though, the added element of isolation, of the Father's face turned away for the first time, hit home.
We sing so often of the wonder of Jesus dying for us, of how we are now forgiven and have a clear conscience before God, of how the price has been paid. We read it all the time in our Bibles and we hear it over and over and over again in sermons, but it never gets old. I cried today as I listened to CJ. I cried at the realisation, all over again, that Jesus, who owed me nothing died for me. That Jesus, perfect, blameless, pure, spotless, kind, loving, gentle, holy, God, went through separation from the Father, physical punishment and suffering on a scale I cannot comprehend and then an agonising death, all for me. What do I do? Throw it back in his face. I'll live my life how I please, thank you very much. I won't bother telling anyone about what you've done for me, it might be a bit embarassing. Thank you for what you did, but I cannot really afford to have it make a difference to how I live my life. I've got my own thing that I want to do.
It seems so ridiculous when set out like that, doesn't it? The inescapable truth, logic, whatever is that God MUST have our whole lives. I cannot look at the garden, the cup and the cross and react any other way. I cannot offer a bit of obedience, occasionally, when it suits me. I cannot just worship when I feel like it, or pray if I happen to get a free few minutes every now and then. I cannot fail to share this extraordinary gospel and every opportunity. I cannot.
I cannot earn what Jesus has done, pay him back or balance the scales. I am not expected to and to an extent, all I can really do is drop to my knees in awe-struck surrender and wonder. But I must get up, we must all get up and offer back to God with unending gratitude our whole lives in thankful service of the one who gave it all for us.