Yesterday: a film about memory, music, culture & love

My Top 5 movies up 'til yesterday—which is when I saw Yesterday—were, in no particular order: Raising Arizona, Local Hero, Chinatown, Tender Mercies, and True Grit (2010). I may have to slip one of those down to number six.

I never saw Slumdog Millionaire or Love Actually, no offense to their writers or directors. But the breathtaking premise of their new movie—a 12-second glitch in the planet erases The Beatles from history and from the memory of every living person, save one hack musician—knocked me off my feet. That the film effortlessly pulls off this audacious conceit in the first 20 minutes is testament to the power of suspended disbelief. Well, and to the skill of the filmmakers, obviously.

Like everybody else who was alive in April of 1970, I first heard "The Long And Winding Road" on the radio. I hadn't yet celebrated my 14th birthday. But the Beatles had already been a constant on my mental playlist for nearly half my life—starting, in my case, with their appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show in February of 1964. I'd collected Beatles trading cards, gotten a mop-top haircut, wore a Nehru collared shirt, and was just beginning to wonder what it would be like to say I-wanna-hold-your-hand to a real live girl.

But in the movie, the struggling hack musician—Jack Malik—is challenged by a slightly jealous Ed Sheeran to a songwriting duel. Each would go away for ten minutes to write, then come back to sing a brand new song for Sheeran's band and crew. Best song wins. This challenge takes place just minutes after Jack's first major concert performance, opening for megastar Sheeran in Moscow, Russia. Every one of the songs Jack had sung on stage that night—Beatles songs of course—had slain the crowd, and Sheeran wanted to bring Jack down a notch.

So the ten minutes are up, and Sheeran goes first: strumming and singing a tender, intimate love song that is sweet, and nearly memorable. Jack's turn. He sits at a piano and sings a plaintive, heartfelt rendition of "The Long And Winding Road." I am undone, tears streaming down my face: that used to be just a Beatles song to me. But now, nearly 50 years later, I have myself actually walked a long and winding road. How did you just demolish me here in the AMC Spring Hill Cinema 12 with a song I've heard a thousand times before?

Ed Sheeran has been pummeled too. He offers stunned applause in mute surrender.

The story is woven alongside the life of Jack's boyhood pal, and longsuffering "manager," Ellie, played by the radiant Lilly James. They are not a couple, romantically speaking, though as the film unspools, we keep wondering why not. And this is exactly what the filmmakers want us to wonder.

Because the picture is so new, I won't spoil the ending, except to say it addresses the ethical dilemma Jack wrestles with, knowing these aren't really his songs. Jack's course toward the deeply satisfying conclusion is set by his revelatory visit to an artist who looks as though he may well have written songs, but has instead put brush to canvas all of his life.

There is astonishing grace in the end. There is the highest, and noblest, and most time-honored tradition realized in the end. In the end, the young man who struggled to remember lyrics and melodies that would thrill audiences around the world, selflessly proves love really is all you need.

How Christian Never-Trumpers Should View POTUS

Despite his flamboyant past, high-profile divorces, and penchant for bombast, Americans elected Donald J. Trump as their 45th President. Among the seventeen candidates Republicans could've nominated were . . .
• a former pastor (Mike Huckabee, also a former governor);
• the son of a pastor (Ted Cruz, a sitting US Senator);
• a Christian author (Ben Carson, famed orthopedic surgeon);
• a President's son (Jeb Bush, a former governor and also the brother of a recent President); • a Christian filmmaker (Rick Santorum, also a former US Senator);
• a Christian 4-term Governor (Rick Perry, current Secretary of Energy);
• a breast-cancer survivor (Carly Fiorina, former CEO of Hewlett-Packard);
• nine other current-and-former US Senators and state Governors.
But no.

I myself favored Ben Carson before he or anybody else had even announced—mostly because of his ability to counter Political Correctness, and Identity Politics. I also liked his "outsider" status. Alas, he faded early, and I switched to Carly Fiorina, then Ted Cruz, before he at long last bowed out.

But I was never a Never-Trumper. Even while supporting Ben Carson I wrote that Donald Trump is "a secular Ezekiel" calling Republicans to repentance for their cowardly collusion with fellow swamp-dwellers. Because I am a conservative, and the Republican party is closer to my philosophy than are the Dems, it hasn't been hard for me to warm up to Trump. His administration has gone from success to success by implementing policies I favor—especially the appointment of conservative judges at all levels of the Federal judiciary. Moving the U.S. Embassy in Israel to Jerusalem was just a cherry on top.

Some of my Christian friends (even conservatives) were Never-Trumpers, a position that becomes more tenuous for them with every passing week. Reduced war tensions, broad tax cuts, regulatory rollbacks, gov't cost savings, favorable trade deals, historically high Dow Jones (and low unemployment), and a booming economy all testify that Trump truly is Making America Great Again. Who really thinks John Kasich could've pulled any of this off? Bueller? Anyone?

But some of my Christian Never-Trump friends aren't conservative: they're liberal. Most of them would admit that Hillary Clinton was, at minimum, a flawed candidate. Some might acknowledge that Dem's pro-abortionism is hard to square with a Christian worldview. While some simply recoil at Trump's brash persona. But liberal folks are diametrically opposed to conservatism anyway, so presumably any Republican in the White House would be a problem for them.

A modest proposal: if you can't see Trump as an Ezekiel (who was, after all, on our side), maybe a guy who lived at the same time as Ezekiel will fit the bill. Try looking at our 45th President as a modern-day Nebuchadnezzar. If Trump is a pagan, perhaps you can be a Daniel.

Dare to be a Daniel was a popular Sunday School chorus when I was growing up. Daniel was ripped from his parents and home in Israel, and taken captive to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar. While Nebby actually was a pagan who worshiped gods made of wood and stone, Daniel nevertheless served the king faithfully, all while maintaining his Jewish morals, ethics and faith in the Hebrew God.

Daniel's powerful boss was full of pride—boasting famously at one point about the marvels he had built in Babylon. Instantly smitten by God with insanity, he spent the better part of a year on his hands and knees like a caged animal. Daniel covered for him the whole time, kept the matter quiet, and held the throne steady during Nebby's absence.

Nebuchadnezzar had multiple wives, a harem, and legions of concubines. How ironic that the devout Hebrew, Daniel, dedicated his entire adult life to serving Babylonian, Median, and Persian kings. Here's the thing: there were large numbers of Jews living under those kings, and Daniel's influence was a direct benefit to the safety, comfort and prosperity of his fellow captives.

Like Christians today in any country, the Jews in Babylon had an overarching allegiance to not only their God, but also to their lifestyle. They had to find a way to do well in hostile territory, and Daniel was a perfect role model.

If you don't think the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Jesus takes an active interest in the governance of earth's Pinnacle Nation, you need to brush up on your Bible studies. Daniel was arguably the second most powerful man on earth in his positions of trust alongside the kings he served. Whatever Trump's personal foibles, regardless of his own faith in Christ for salvation, he has been very good to God's people: whether Christian bakers and florists, a pastor in Turkey, or the Jews in Israel. There are several outspoken Christians in Trump's cabinet, and the President calls for prayer before his every meeting with them.

For the safety and prosperity of all Americans of any faith, or of no faith at all, please stop nit-picking at the President of the United States. He hasn't done anything illegal, and his policies are working well for the country. Bemoaning his style and whining about his possibly selfish motives is fruitless. He's a 72 year-old grandfather, a self-made billionaire whose net worth has dropped by 31% since he was elected (per Forbes). Donald Trump is unlikely to change his ways this late in the game. I actually think most of the Americans who voted for him did so because of his mannerisms; because his combativeness is deployed on their behalf.

So I urge you to consider how this Presidency can help the spreading of the gospel. Understand that temporal blessings for Christians in America will be used globally for the Kingdom of God. 

In the same way Nebuchadnezzar wrote at the end of Daniel chapter 4, and Darius at the end of chapter 6, Donald Trump has explicitly praised God many times in public—often when commending the good deeds of outstanding Christians. Be a Daniel, and don't despise what God is doing through an imperfect vessel. 

Yes, I Signed the Nashville Statement

The Nashville Statement, recently published by a group of Biblically-oriented American pastors, scholars and Christian thought-leaders, is the most recent in a centuries-old line of statements, declarations, resolutions and councils. From time to time concerned believers gather to wrestle with thorny contemporary matters—issuing clear and authoritative proclamations to  help guide the church through difficult times.

The city-based identifier for such bulletins was established centuries ago at a meeting of Christian bishops in Nicea, which yielded The Nicene Creed in 325. After  a subsequent confab in Constantinople in 381, and Chalcedon in 451, the precedent was set.

In modernity we saw a response to the rise of National Socialism in Germany—the Barmen Declaration of 1934. Its signatories, including Dietrich Bonhoeffer, resisted the move by many German churches to affiliate with the Nazi party, speaking with a laser-like prescience: "We reject the false doctrine, as though the Church were permitted to abandon the form of its message and order to its own pleasure or to changes in prevailing ideological and political convictions."

During my own lifetime have come The Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy (1978), The Danvers Statement on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood (1987), and the Manhattan Declaration on the Sanctity of Life & Freedom of Conscience (2009, released in the internet age, and which I also signed). In differing forms we have recently seen "councils" like The Moral Majority, Promise Keepers, The Gospel Coalition, Women of Faith, The Coalition of African American Pastors, The Museum of the Bible, and many other issue-answering endeavors to maintain a faithful Christian witness, Biblical literacy, and a "discerning [of] the times, because the days are evil." (Ephesians 5:16)

So it is not unheard of for Biblically-minded American church leaders to wade into controversy. As with all of these documents, The Nashville Statement (officially from the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood) is addressed to the church, but is aware of a wider audience, as stated in the preamble: "...in the hope of serving Christ’s church and witnessing publicly to the good purposes of God for human sexuality revealed in Christian Scripture, we offer the following affirmations and denials."

The thirteen articles themselves are mostly uncontroversial, at least for evangelical believers. If you take the Bible seriously, you'll be hard pressed to argue against these affirmations and denials. Christian psychologist and author Mark Yarhouse doesn't dispute the theology, but wonders about the Statement's "language," given that the labels and terms of identity and proclivity are still in flux. Those in the church who have publicly approved of homosexual behavior, transgender treatment, or have actually performed same-sex "marriages," feel themselves singled out by Article X. And well they should. Their high public profiles, and their divergence from Biblical norms may have endeared them to the media and popular culture, but their shifts away from historic Biblical belief and practice have opened a wound in the body of Christ.

That some people's feelings would be hurt by The Nashville Statement was all but inevitable. That breakaway churches and celebrated Christian mavericks would recant was all but impossible. That these evil days call for a choose-you-this-day-whom-you-will-serve ethos is all but certain. I've made my choice.

Christian Name Calling: Don't Use This Word (Pt 2)

Part 1 of my rumination on Christian name-calling focussed on the eponymous "Christian" as an honorable name. We saw that it had been foretold by the prophet Isaiah, that its first use was memorialized by Luke in Acts 11, that its ubiquity was confirmed by a King (Agrippa) to the Apostle Paul in Acts 26, and that its status was elevated by no less than Saint Peter in his first letter to fellow saints scattered across Asia Minor. So not only is calling ourselves—and one another—"Christian" not a problem, it's actually a divinely appointed name.

In the  Gospels and the first two-thirds of Acts, Christ-followers are mostly called Disciples. Jesus himself used that name, but he also called his posse and individual followers by other names—friends, brothers, sisters, children, man, woman, servants, branches, and many more. One interesting rabbit-hole to go down in this study is to compare the different animals Jesus cited when describing his pals—sheep, doves, sparrows—versus those animals used to describe people who opposed Christ: wolves, vipers, snakes, a fox.

Jesus was pretty binary. He trafficked heavily in either/or formulations—he was waaay more us/them than is currently in vogue. Jesus explicitly told us he came to divide people (Matt 10 & 25), and once called Peter, his first lieutenant, Satan. So let's dispense with the recent political-correctness among academics to alter names used in scripture (ie: gender-based rewrites of Bible translations). Instead we should examine scripture honestly for guidance as to what we call ourselves—since out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. Because the way man thinks in his heart defines who he is. Which means the names we choose to describe ourselves are deeply important.

Would it surprise you to learn the scriptures nowhere refer to Christians as sinners? Not once. In the Bible Christians are said to be born again, new creatures, possessing a divine nature, having the mind of Christ, being a royal priesthood, a holy nation, the true circumcision, the bride of Christ, and many other affirming honorifics. But never sinners. Ever.

And yet, chances are in the last year you've heard a preacher call himself—and you, and all believers—sinners. I've certainly heard this. Sometimes it is followed by a qualifier "saved by grace," but not always. More and more lately this name-calling just stands on its own: "Look, we're all sinners here."

Excuse me? Says who? "Well," comes the defense, "scripture says all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Sure, and Paul even admitted to having been the "chief" sinner. But that was the "old man," in the past—which is what Paul is talking about in Romans 3: "former sins." The Apostle is clearly saying that was then, but this is now. And anyway the passage is generic—not labeling the Christians in Rome as sinners. Paul is demonstrating the universality of both Jews and Gentiles having been sinners. "But now the righteousness of God has been manifested..." It's a new covenant, and now we Gentiles can become new creatures in Christ: grafted into the vine. Born again.

If you've read much of Paul's writing, you know he often echoes phrases and words from Hebrew scripture. "Sinners" were not unknown in the Old Testament. Perhaps the most famous OT use of the word is in Psalm 51, where David speaks of his own "sin" in verse 4, but then in verse 13 promises to teach "transgressors" God's ways so "sinners will be converted." David confesses that he had sinned, but he does not consider himself "a sinner," because he had repented, and came with a broken and contrite heart before the God of his salvation.

When the Pharisees called somebody a sinner, Jesus didn't dispute their characterization, but said sinners were the ones he came to save—the afflicted, the brokenhearted, the captives, the prisoners. "For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance" (Matthew 9:13). Once a sinner repents, believes, and is baptized, their identity is now in Christ, and they are born from above. That was me, but not anymore: the old is past.

Paul acknowledges that his beloved Corinthians did indeed have a past. "And such were some of you" he said after rattling off a list of the kind of people who will not enter the Kingdom of God. "But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God" (1 Corinthians 6:11). Something happened to the Corinthians, and they're not any of those things now.

There may be many different motives behind Christian leaders telling God's elect they are sinners. Some may think they're echoing Paul's exhortation cited above. Some may be flat-out guilt manipulators. And many these days seek to be "relevant," trumpeting a newly-invented Christian virtue of "empathy." This has the effect of lowering everybody to the same level, and is a hallmark of Progressivism. Nobody can call me "judgey" if I say I'm a sinner just like you.

But I urge preachers, professors, elders, worship leaders, deacons, authors, Sunday school teachers, youth leaders— anybody who is in Christian leadership— to recognize the power of their words to shape the self-concept of those they lead. Because they lead the Bride of Christ—and she ain't a sinner!