Cleaning out my closet

The problem with evangelicalism is that it is a theological system created in the modern era where Mystery is reduced to four easy steps to peace with God.   A reductionistic faith has become entirely unsustainable in our world today.   My own journey started in an evangelical church, but it’s not likely to end there — I’m being wooed by the ambiguities and complexities of life.

To illustrate at a very simple level, look at the movie reviews at Focus on the Family’s site Plugged In.  Take excerpts from the review of the movie Sunshine Cleaning.

On sexual content:  Rose and Mac meet several times at a motel. We see them before or after sex as they hug, kiss and touch. Rose is usually dressed only in bra and panties. She straddles Mac in one scene. And she’s putting on her bra in another. The camera shows Mac’s bare backside as he pulls up his underwear.

On crude or profane language: About 15 f-words and at least that many s-words. God’s and Jesus’ names are misused over a dozen times. God’s is combined with “d–n.” Also showing up: “a–” and “b–tard.”

Conclusion: God’s nowhere to be found, though. The CB never crackles to life—either literally or figuratively. Light filters through a few cracks in the cinematic ceiling. But the sun never really shines.

A nice tidy laundry list of sins, omissions, and a heaping serving of guilt.   Parsing and dicing up a work of art in order to catalogue its pros and cons.  An orientation based on fear of the unknown, the other.  Not fun.

Now contrast Focus’ approach with that of Image Journal’s review of the same movie.  Image is not about movie reviews, but about the craft of writing.  These folks explore art, faith and mystery.  (And their daily blog Good Letters is an oasis of sparkling-fresh, thirst-quenching water down the gullet of a parched traveller.)

Small films about suicide come along with more frequency than you’d expect. They’re often lesser efforts, without big studio involvement—quiet affairs with ensemble casts looking to make break-out performances. You can imagine the actors thinking: “They’ll take me seriously now.” Predictably, the stretching exercise has mixed results. Such a heavy subject tends to drink up all the light in a script, so that the effort becomes yet another scolding of some societal intransigence, or a drudge-march through staged histrionics, meant to showcase how well an actress cries.

A pleasant exception is Sunshine Cleaning, written by Megan Holley and directed by Christine Jeffs. What keeps the film from the excesses of the genre is its focus on people who, understandably marked by their past, nevertheless strive mightily to pull through the present. While acknowledging the rupture they’ve experienced, they know that the point is to cauterize it. The place must become a scar, not a wound, and the characters in the piece—with varying adeptness—set about the business of living while conducting a trade for the dead.

Funny thing — several years ago, I volunteered for a term on the Focus Canada board.  My thought at the time was to help out some good friends whose journey I respect.  They longed to move the organization into a broader place, less defined by the American organization.  But when they resigned, I did too.

Last month I joined a new board: Image Journal.  A stimulating group of artists, writers and thinkers who offer art mixed with spirit.  Take a look at their website and savour the taste.  I’m more at home with this new group.

[UPDATE:  I've had some feedback on this post and want to clarify that the intent of my thoughts here are not to put down my many friends who still work for Focus.  There are great people there who are serving families with abandon and grace.  I'm merely commenting on the journey I am on, and where my own personal comfort level of involvement with various organizations is.]