Blue Like Jazz

I put the "pro" in "procrastination."  One of these days I'll get back on a regular posting schedule, but there's a lot going on right now and I'm trying to maintain my center.  Anywho, one thing I really want to talk about is the film Blue Like Jazz.

I've seen it twice now; once opening weekend and again a couple of days later.  It's that good.

Apparently, the project to produce this film started about six years ago and then they ran out of money.  Someone suggested they check out Kickstarter.com.  They did, and in 30 days raised enough money (and then some) to complete production.  The film was released on April 13, 2012.  It's kind of like an indie film with really, really wide release.

Actually, that's exactly what it is.

Anyway, it's a film adaptation of Donald Miller's book of the same title, Blue Like Jazz. I read it a few years ago, back in '06 or '07 and really liked it.  I thought of it as the book I was aspiring to write.  Instead, this yahoo, Miller, beat me to it.  It's not like I've had anything published yet, anyway.  It's just one of those things.

I haven't read it since, though I enjoyed it very much.  I was excited to hear about the film, especially after seeing the trailer.  I was thinking to myself, wow!  This looks like an honest-to-goodness honest film made by Christians, not a Christian propaganda piece made by Christians!

Going into it, I was glad I had only read the book once and didn't remember much about it because then my expectations were able to be fairly broad.  I only expected that it'd be honest, it'd be real, and it'd be an authentic account of a young man struggling to make sense of his faith and the world around him.  In those senses, all expectations were fulfilled - in all other senses, I was blown away.

Now, I knew this film was going to be edgy.  It was going to be edgy because it was going to be honest; honest almost to the point of transparency.  The difference is, being honest is being real, but with discretion and thoughtfulness.  Transparency is being real but without a filter of any sort.  You get the warts and dirty laundry as it comes; that, along with the good stuff, is practically thrown at you rather than entrusted as you get better acquainted with an individual.

Transparency I can handle; honesty, that's a little tougher.

With transparency, it's all out there; you know what to expect.  It's simpler, though it's messier.  Plus it's similar to how I primarily function when I'm not paying attention.  I wear my emotions on my sleeve; I'm typically on or off in any given situation - there's no room for in-between, just chilling - again - when I'm not paying attention.

Honesty?  Well, that's different.  It's scary.  God is honest with us, but He's not transparent.  He doesn't lay all His cards out on the table; He entrusts with a little bit of knowledge, bit by bit.  And that's how it's to be in all relationships.

You don't lay out all your cards at once; you wait and see if the individual across from you is trustworthy, for each card is a piece of your soul being revealed.  How do you know that person isn't just going to take that piece of you and trash it?

Alas, I digress...

Honesty is more difficult than transparency because you can't lay out a map of how to predict the other person's behavior, you can't just categorize individuals and make the business of a relationship so easy to deal with.

People are people - not things to be put in boxes.  All areas of our lives bleed over into the other and back and forth, and vice versa, and so on and so forth.

I have to let people be people and that's scary because getting each successive card also takes commitment - it takes time and a commitment to share some of your self with this person.

It's scary on one hand because what if you commit yourself to a lot of time with this person only to find you don't like what you're finding?  Or regardless of if you like what you discover or not, you realize it just won't work; what then?

It's scary on the other hand because what if, card by card, piece by piece, you reveal more of who you are and then the other person decides he/she doesn't like what he/she sees?  The prospect of rejection looms over us all at some point.

So, what does that have to do with Blue Like Jazz?  Like I said, it's an honest movie.  The narrative doesn't play its full deck immediately.  But like when you get to know someone, bit-by-bit we learn more about it and I was thinking to myself, how on earth is this ever going to come back around to Jesus in a meaningful way?

In its honesty and candor, the filmmakers pull no punches as to what life was like for Miller in college, and they accurately portray the life of a statistically typical college freshman in all its drinking and debauchery and mischief - but never to the point of exploitation.  That is to say, there are no sex scenes (there's not even a kiss!), the cussing is realistic but not gratuitous, and one particular prank that is pulled...well, it's done and I was shocked.

Me - I was shocked at what I saw portrayed in the movie.  I was actually uncomfortable.  My self-righteousitis flared up and I found myself thinking, how on earth is God going to be glorified in this??!

Well, it all comes together in the end.  When the final scene started taking on its heft and depth, my heart was in my throat and I nearly cried.

The story makes me think of my own: raised in the church, lived as a naive Jesus Freak in high school, went off to college out of my Christian bubble and began to question my faith.  I went through my own prodigal years, my time of questioning and doubt, my time of pain.  None of that weakened my faith just as the first 7/8s of the film don't weaken the story; all of that is tinder for the fire of God's love - in my heart and in what's communicated in the heart of the film.

So, for the doubters, the philosophers, the seekers, the founders, the whomevers, I highly recommend this film.  It is enjoyable, it's fun, it's poignant, it's sad - it's a meaningful dramatization of the human experience.

And if you're like me, wondering what some of the songs in the movie are, the one that involves a bear and a bicycle is called, Bicycle Bicycle, You Are My Bicycle by Be Your Own Pet.

The song featured in the trailer and in the film when Miller hits his catharsis is called Taos and it's by Menomena.

So that's all.  Go see it.

You Can't Go Home Again, But You Can Go Home

Do you remember being a kid?  No worries, no responsibilities, no obligations; not like we have now as adults.  There was school, there was Little League, there were social issues (who would be “it” first in a game of tag), but it never occurred to me that one day I’d be responsible for keeping a roof over my head.  I never once imagined I’d have a car payment.

When I think of the phrase, “You can’t go home again,” that’s what I mean.  You – well, I – we – can never go backwards.  It’s impossible.  The closest thing to that is memory loss; we can’t age our bodies and minds in reverse; time is marching on.  We can’t go back to the time of innocence, fun and frivolity.  Once innocence is lost, it’s gone forever; we’ve learned something new and every lesson learned is indelibly imprinted within our minds, branded onto our souls.

Now, some people forget, or they don’t learn from life’s happenings.  Those who don’t learn, those who forget, are doomed to repeat history.  Sometimes the “not learning” is deliberate, sometimes it’s not, but regardless, history is cyclical as events occur outside of, though perpetually intersecting with, our individual lives.  All we can do is learn the best we can from life’s happenings and progress rather than merely spinning our wheels.

Plus, I daresay, few, if any of us, knew how well we had it off as children.  Granted, I’m speaking to folks who did not grow up in abusive or highly dysfunctional homes, but until we did become responsible for ourselves we didn’t know what we were missing.  Sometimes we want to go back to that, but that is fruitless, a chasing of the wind.

However, though we can’t go backwards, we can always go home.

What is “home”?  Home is where we can let down our guard; where, though, we may have responsibilities in our lives, we don’t have to worry about them, merely tend to them when necessary.  Home is where we are free to be not only honest, but transparent with no fear of mistrust or betrayal.

If we believe in God, if we love God the Father, believe in His Son, Jesus Christ and the sacrifice He made on the cross, and then His resurrection, home is wherever God is – and He is omnipresent. 

He looks after all our needs.

He desires for us to be honest and transparent with Him; He encourages us to do that, He enables us to do that.  It’s so hard to admit, just to ourselves, that we’re not perfect, that we screw up sometimes in abhorrent ways (more than any of us would care to admit).  All God asks of us – of anyone who would approach Him – is that we be honest with ourselves about all that and then be honest with Him.  And then everything is okay again.  I mean, we need to learn from it and grow, but there’s no condemnation anymore.  We are free to be ourselves, starting off where we are right this instant, and continue to be ourselves, growing as the biological and spiritual organisms we are, all the way to the end.  For me, that means being just Cliff – that’s all I’ve got to be.

And that is so refreshing.

Other systems of faith demand best behavior, strict adherence to a moral code and depending on how well you do in the here and now, you just might have a shot at an okay hereafter.

God says, “Nah, just come as you are.  Tell me your troubles, vocalize your pain, show me your deepest wounds and I’ll heal you then I’ll show you how to really live life, free of fear.  Free of pain?  Oh, no, my child; there will always be plenty of pain to go around, but trust me on this: it’s necessary and it’ll help you grow.  There’s a world of hurt inside your heart and a world of hurt inside Mine – that’s where you live – in My heart, because I love you so much.  My world of hurt comes from having to require my Son to walk His Road of Pain so that you and I could get together.  I did it because it was necessary and I knew He could take it.  He was scared at one point, but He did it anyway because He trusted me and now look where He is.  So, come on; follow me down the Road I have laid out for you.  It’s not going to be easy but it’ll be worth it; just wait ‘til you see the party I have planned at the end of all this!  Just keep your eyes on me and everything will be all right.”

The Southern Accent and God is Doing a Nu Thang

Two things I love: the Southern accent and watching God work.

More after el jumpo:

Rock'n'roll, Baby!

I love rock’n’roll. 

People ask me what my favorite type of music is and I always cop out by saying “a little bit of everything” – and it’s true! – but I’ve got to be honest with myself.  It’s usually some kind of rockin’, ballsy, maybe bluesy, a bit of metal and epic music that pulls me out of a funk, gets my cylinders firing and just all-around pumps me up.  You want Cliff to get excited about something?  “Just add guitar.”  Or drums.  Or bass.  I think you get the idea.

After I really met Jesus for the first time as a teenager all I would listen to was “Christian” rock.  Until about halfway through my junior year of high school, this consisted of the likes of Petra, DC Talk, Audio Adrenaline, and Michael W. Smith.  Granted, all these bands rock (yes, even MWS), but little did I know I had barely even scratched the surface.

One afternoon after school, heading home, my good buddy Justin blew my mind.  A couple of us piled into his car, and now that I think about it, I seem to remember him prefacing this experience by saying, “Prepare to have your mind blown.”  He put a CD in and this is what I heard: “Perfect Night for a Hanging” by Tourniquet.  Like Train’s Soul Sister, my mind was blown. 

“This is Christian?” I asked in awe and wonder from the backseat.  Justin only smirked and nodded.  “This is amazing!”  And that bit of metal, deep in my soul, was awakened.

Nowadays Christian Contemporary Music does represent a significant portion of my musical repertoire, but it by no means dominates it.  I’ve since learned there is also beauty and truth in “secular” music.  There is also truth and beauty in metal.

Now, heavy metal music is typically characterized as “angry music.”  And, well, yeah – you wouldn’t use Atreyu or Clutch as hold music for the Anger Management Hotline.  However, what I learned from that experience my junior year is that anger is okay.  The Bible doesn’t say, “Thou shalt not get angry,” but rather “Be slow to anger.”  I mean, when Jesus cleansed the temple do you think He was serenely wielding that whip with a sublime smile, saying, “Verily, verily, get thee out, pretty please”?  No!  His words are translated with exclamation points!

To those who sold doves He said, “Get these out of here!  How dare you turn my Father’s house into a market!”

Um, not to be crass, but it sounds like sweet, li’l, boxed-up-baby-Jesus is pissed off.  Sure, He’s the Son of God, and God is love and Jesus is all about loving His lambs, but part of love is fiercely defending those who one loves and, conversely, hating any threat to the beloved.  And we’re supposed to be like Jesus.

Anger shouldn’t arise from any sense of self-righteousness, but out of love.  Is there injustice?  Be angry about it.  Are there any who are oppressed?  Let anger burn against the oppression.  But don’t just sit there and stew – act; and that out of wisdom.

I’m not saying just go on a mad tear and burn stuff up because James, Jesus’ half-brother, tells us, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires” (James 1:19-20).  And vengeance?  Forget about it – vengeance belongs to God and God alone.

However, where there is evil, injustice and oppression, let the anger of God abound in your heart and then act in compassion towards those who are victims of the darkness.  Remember, our foes aren’t the people we can see, but the forces we can’t. 

Be an advocate, a voice for the voiceless, a father to the fatherless.

Be angry.