Page 3054 – Christianity Today (2024)

The man's 51-year autobiography took more than an hour to read, and it disclosed struggles with addictions, difficult personal relationships, and career disappointments. It included accounts of success and failure, discoveries and disappointments. Mixed in were his ongoing efforts to improve a static-ridden connection with Jesus.

This level of candor in our group is the result of almost two years of weekly meetings. That's how long it has taken us to build an appropriate trust level. Only now is there a willingness to peel back the secretive layers of life and invite the responses of friends.

As this man read his story, I shook my head. Not at the nature of his self-revelations but at how little, before this reading, I really knew him and the issues he was dealing with from day to day. I'm his pastor, for crying out loud, and until this moment I've seen only the surface of his life. And I was supposed to preach to him each week? And make a difference?

As his story continued, I actually had something like a vision. I saw myself walking down a long hotel corridor (I travel a lot). I passed endless numbers of closed doors. Behind each door I could hear sounds, the kinds you hear in hotels—loud televisions, people talking, bathtubs filling with water, and other sounds I'll not identify. In the vision each sound was an indication of diverse life and activity. But here is the point. Each closed door separated me from knowing with clarity what was happening on the other side. I could only guess at what needed to be said.

The vision helped me realize that the guy telling his story had opened up the door of his room and invited the group and me in to look around.

Glimpses of their reality

This, I suspect, is one of the greater challenges of the preacher. How to get people to open the doors of their lives. Only then can there be hope of riveting the truths of Scripture to the truths of actual human experience. The truth? I don't think that can happen in a lot of churches.

My life as a preacher began in my mid-twenties. One year I got to speak on many weekends in various churches (not necessarily large ones) in different parts of North America. In those days guest preachers were usually billeted in private homes (the so-called prophet's chamber) rather than in hotels (deemed an excessive expense). This resulted in an educational experience I could never have anticipated.

I have written of this before: how under such arrangements I met lots of people on their "turf," not mine. On these weekends, I became a part of all kinds of family life. I saw how marriage partners treated each other, how parents and children related, how some things were celebrated and other things disputed. Sometimes I heard and saw things that shouldn't have been seen or heard. Every preacher should have this experience.

They live 95+ percent of their week in non-church-related situations.

Often, late in the evening when most of the host family had gone to bed, I would sit—cold drink in hand—with the husband/father of the household. We would have long talks that went deep and wide. And I learned things.

First, (and please forgive the gender specificity for a moment) I learned that men talk with other men differently when they're not around church.

Second, I learned that men talk differently when they didn't classify me as a pastor (and I wasn't telling).

Third, I learned that men talk differently about themselves when asked questions that seemed not to be related to church life or even faith.

In those late night conversations, I came to know about men and their work, men and their fears, men and their disappointments in their marriages and in family life. I heard about their dreams and the obstacles between them and those dreams. And, more than a few times, I became aware of the attitudes men had about church and about their pastors.

There is a book making the rounds that suggests why many men hate going to church. The book is a worthy read. But I can tell you that I heard most of that stuff forty years ago in those midnight conversations.

It was not unusual to hear, "Our pastor is a great guy, but he really knows very little about life outside the church. He's never had to face the real world. He hasn't a clue where I'm coming from."

One man said to me: "Want to know our pastor's view of life? His benediction the other day went like this: 'Lord, we close this service asking your blessing on AWANA as it meets on Monday night, the choir as it practices for the Easter concert, and the youth as they go away next weekend on their snow retreat. And bring us all back together again next Sunday for a great experience of worship.'"

The man who described this benediction said, "The pastor doesn't know I have a job."

A man in my own church, some years later, said to me, "Pastor, I know you eat, sleep, and breathe church. That's what we pay you for. But me? When I leave here this afternoon, it's likely that I won't think about church for two or three days. I've got a living to make, and that takes just about every ounce of energy I've got. So, understand, I love you and I love this church, but for most of the week it's just not the most important thing on my mind."

The wide world of work

That was the first time I realized that most people did not live (as I did) church-centric lives. Nor did they spend major amounts of their mental energies on church matters.

Nevertheless I was supposed to walk that "corridor" on Sunday morning and preach through the doors and into the lives of people who lived 95+ percent of their lives in non-church-related situations. As long as those doors were shut and I could only hear vague noises behind them, I was really in the dark as to what to preach about and how to make my points sharp and incisive enough that I was not wasting everyone's time.

If I knew their stories how would my preaching change?

After more than forty years of preaching, I am still amazed that there are people who actually sit still and give me a chance to monologue at them for anywhere from 28 to 38 minutes on Sunday. Who in our society—excepting a few comedians and professors—gets that privilege?

Back to the days when I toured as a guest preacher …

On certain occasions, when my plane was not taking me back home until Monday afternoon, I joined my host at his workplace for the morning. I visited offices and met bosses and colleagues. I toured labs, went on sales calls, and observed manufacturing lines.

I pressed my luck a bit when a construction worker planted a hard hat on my head and told me to climb a ladder straight up a six-story steel skeletal structure. We ate a bag lunch straddling an I-beam at the top. To put it bluntly, I was terrified. It was no place to be if you needed a men's room.

Those conversations and those visits to the workplace changed me and my preaching. Of course the final evaluation of my change rests with those who have listened to me preach over the years. But the questions that should be asked are these:

1. Did Gordon preach as if he understood your world?
2. Did Gordon speak to the questions that are relevant to your situation?
3. Did Gordon's vocabulary and illustrations connect with the world you live in?
4. Did Gordon tie the message of the Bible to the issues that are most important to you?
5. Did Gordon show any evidence that he had prepared in a way that took seriously the things God may want to say into people's lives?
6. And finally, did Gordon reveal anything about himself that indicated he also shares the challenges that you face?

A doctor friend once said to me, "When you prepare your sermons, Gordon, make sure the last question you ask yourself before you preach is this: What difference does this make?"

Where was Jesus' pulpit?

Most of what we call the preaching of Jesus was done in places where people caught fish, collected taxes, and drew their water. He did some speaking in synagogues, but the major contacts he had with people seemed to be where they lived and worked.

A lead preacher (if he or she is not sharing time with a preaching team) probably gets no more than 35 preaching opportunities a year to address the congregation. When you deduct vacation days, guest speaker situations, and holiday themes (Lent and Advent come to mind), even 35 opportunities may be optimistic.

So if one gets 35 shots at people in a plenary session like Sunday worship, what will the themes be? And how will you communicate with the diverse people who populate the room?

In most churches, we probably have five culturally defined generations sitting side by side in worship. Assume an age-range of 10-97 years. I can document that range in the New Hampshire congregation where I have been lead preacher for the past few years (I have now stepped down from that responsibility).

One Sunday morning I got reactions to my sermon from a child, age 7, and a man (who is very alert) who is 97. Not a bad bandwidth.

In a recent book, A Resilient Life, I suggested we need to understand these generations in terms of underlying thematic-questions that seem peculiar to each decade of life. [See below.]

I think about these theme questions each time I prepare a sermon. Being in my sixties I am quite aware that the theme questions that drive my life today are completely different than the theme questions driving a 30 year old.

When I was a pastor in my thirties, I often wondered why men of the age I am now so rarely talked to me about their personal thoughts or issues.

Now I know.

They believed I wouldn't understand what preoccupied them.

Today I would never "bore" people in their thirties with my personal questions. They'd have to ask, and I would have to feel assured that they would not blow me off or perhaps snicker at me.

My mind snaps back to the small group of men with whom I have met each week, men who have, in the course of our time together, put their stories out on the table for everyone else to hear. And I say to myself: If I knew the story of every person in my church, how would my preaching change?

Then I think of the dialogue between Jesus and the woman of Sychar—the one he met at the well. What made their conversation so powerful, so life-changing, so resourceful that it led to a whole town coming to sit at the feet of Christ? Answer: he knew her story, and she knew he knew it.

Get that far into a person's life, and the preaching has its effects.

***

Questions of the Decade

When I preach to people in their twenties, I am aware that they are asking questions such as:

1. What makes me different from my family of origin or the people around me?
2. In what direction am I going to point my life in order to pay my way through life?
3. Am I lovable and am I capable of loving?
4. Around what will I center my life?

Those in their thirties tend to have accumulated serious long-range responsibilities: spouses, babies, home mortgages, and serious income needs. Suddenly life becomes overrun with responsibilities. Time and priorities become important. Fatigue and stress levels rise. The questions shift to:

1. How can I get done all of these things for which I am responsible?
2. Why do I have so many self-doubts?
3. Why is my spiritual center so confused?
4. What happened to all the fun I used to have?
5. Why haven't I resolved all my sin problems?
6. Why is there so little time for friendships?

For people in their forties, the questions do not get any easier. Now they are asking:

1. Why are some of my peers doing better than me?
2. Why am I so often disappointed in myself, in others?
3. Why isn't my faith deeper?
4. Why is my marriage less than dazzling?
5. Why do I yearn to go back to the carefree days of my youth?
6. Should I scale back some of my dreams?
7. Why do I no longer feel attractive?

People in their fifties are asking:

1. Do these young people think I'm obsolete?
2. Why is my body becoming increasingly unreliable?
3. Why are so few of my friendships nourishing?
4. What do my spouse and I have in common now that the children are leaving?
5. Does this marriage of mine offer any intimacy at all?
6. Why is my job no longer a satisfying experience?
7. Are the best years of life over?
8. Do I have anything of value to give any longer?

Those in their sixties ask:

1. How long can I keep on doing the things that define me?
2. Why do my peers look so much older than me?
3. What does it mean to grow old?
4. How do I deal with angers and resentments that I've never resolved?
5. Why do my friends and I talk so much about death and dying?

Those in their seventies and above have questions such as:

1. Does anyone around here know who I once was?
2. How do I cope with all this increasing weakness around me?
3. How many years do I have left?
4. How long can I maintain my independence and my dignity?
5. When I die, how will it happen?
6. What about all these things I intended to do (and be) and never got around to?

Can a sermon speak to these issues? For many listeners, sermons that ignore these questions will not be credible.

It is around matters like these, which change through the years, that the preacher can speak into the fears, the failures and regrets, the longings and opportunities, and bring words of hope and clarity, touching a life with Christ's presence.—G.M.

Copyright © 2007 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information onLeadership Journal.

The Joneses left their church because they were dissatisfied and wanted something more. The researchers asking people why they switched churches say that’s a good thing. Most weren’t lured to the new church, but said they felt a lack of spiritual development and were not feeling engaged or involved in a meaningful way in their old setting. Half (48%) said their “needs weren’t being met.”

How can you minister to their dissatisfaction?

Brad Waggoner, head of research for LifeWay, which conducted the study, says, “The fact that the majority of church switchers express a desire to grow spiritually and become active in service should strike a chord of optimism for leaders. Where there is leadership, passion, determination, and an intentional strategy, church members can and will be developed and equipped for ministry.” Of the switchers, 76 percent say they are “devout Christians with a strong faith in God.”

Switchers often selected a new church that was significantly different from their former church, whether traditional, blended, or contemporary. Three-fourths of them switched to a church of a different size: 46 percent went to a larger church, and 29 percent attended a smaller church.

More than half also changed denomination. Only 44 percent considered denomination an important factor in selecting a new church.

As for additional reasons to leave their old church, many faulted other churchgoers, calling them judgmental (18%), hypocritical (15%), or cliquish (14%). Others took issue with the pastor: poor preaching (16%), or perceived character flaws such as being judgmental (14%) or hypocritical (13%).

“The character and attitudes of leaders matter in a big way,” says Waggoner.

Around 16 percent of those surveyed left because their former church had undergone too many changes. According to Scott McConnell, associate director of LifeWay Research, “These church switchers leave because they are unhappy with changes in the overall direction of the church. Respondents had the opportunity to select specific changes they did not like … but the largest proportion selected ‘too many changes in general,’ the culmination of many changes in the previous church they did not like.”

Copyright © 2007 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information onLeadership Journal.

I‘ve had a couple of semi-sleepless nights lately because some members of my congregation got into trouble and needed my pastoral help. Their situation seems so messy, so ugly, so intractable, and I feel the weight of trying to help them get through it with their faith intact. I confess, though, that I’ve wished at times I could be one of those pastors who never actually has to deal with people, who simply “shows up” (interesting term) on screen, not in person.

I am certainly not against “video venues.” Nor am I against Christian websites. Nor (obviously) am I against the use of books and journals (like the one that connects us here). I am for the thoughtful and careful use of technology in ministry, whether we’re talking about the printing press, the telephone, radio, the internet, or satellites.

But we would be foolish to rush into new technologies unaware of their unintended consequences, the side effects that Marshall McLuhan began warning about back in the 1960s and 1970s (see Shane Hipps’s The Hidden Power of Electronic Culture: How Media Shapes Faith, the Gospel, and Church, Zondervan, 2006).

Every technological innovation, McLuhan would say, is an amputation. For example, with the invention of the wheel or lever or chain saw, we use our muscles less. With the invention of the calculator, our mental computational skills grow rusty. While microphones help us whisper to thousands, they also make it less necessary for us to learn enunciation and vocal projection. And spell-checkers … make it EZ for us never to lern the lie of the grammaratical land.

What of technologies that in a sense amputate presence? The television and the DVD, the videoconference and perhaps increasingly, the hologram, project our presence, but do they in some way amputate presence as well?

I recently heard someone say that preaching is going the way of the Eucharist: we’re moving from “real presence” to “virtual presence.” The preacher seen via projection or download is “with us,” but only in an abstract sense.

Projection is a fascinating word, especially when contrasted with incarnation. I imagine the first chapter of the fourth gospel reading, “the Word was projected into our world to be observed among us,” and I wonder what difference it would have made.

One difference: you can’t crucify a digital image. And that, to me, is one of the great amputations that comes from “virtual presence” or “projected presence” replacing incarnational presence. Looking back on my years as a pastor, I have to say that preaching was relatively easy and fun. But being close to people, being present in a community, often was downright agonizing.

Many of us have thought to ourselves, Ministry would be great if it weren’t for the people, and increasingly it has become possible to “have a ministry” without ever having to actually live, in your flesh, with people in their flesh. In fact, vicarious ministries (via books, radio, TV, or whatever) have a higher status in the minds of many than the work of actually being with people who argue, fail, disagree, react, sin, attack, have emotional breakdowns, get sick, call you at 2 a.m., betray you, try your patience, and eventually die and leave you in grief.

That loss of “real presence” is bad for the church, no doubt. But I can’t help but think it’s also bad for us as pastors and leaders too. Because if our ministry is only virtual, it may be that our virtue is virtual as well.

When we can’t get hurt, when we can’t sacrifice, when we can’t share the pain of people in their actual presence and in “real time,” something in us may be getting amputated. Paul spoke of “glorying” in his afflictions for the sake of those he served.

That’s good for us to remember if we start envying the “virtual pastors.”

Copyright © 2007 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information onLeadership Journal.

While tens of thousands of kids head out to Christian camps, Camp Quest is offering an alternative for those who take their summer recreation without God. About 150 young people attend Camp Quest programs in Ohio, Michigan, Minnesota, California, and Ontario, according to an article in the Chicago Tribune.

The founder, Edwin Kagin, is legal director for the group American Atheists. He said the atheist camp was founded after the Boy Scouts barred atheists and gays from leadership roles during the 1990s. “We wanted a camp not to preach there is no God,” said Kagin, “but as a place where children could learn it’s OK not to believe in God.”

The Tribune interviewed several young campers in Ohio about their beliefs, or lack thereof. I don’t think Christians have a lot to worry about. Here is a sampling:

“[Sophia] Riehemann notes that a secular perspective takes away childhood joys other kids have, such as Christmas. But that doesn’t bother her. ‘They have Santa Claus,’ she said, ‘and we have Isaac Newton.'”

Actually, Sophia, I hate to break this to you, but you have Santa Claus, and we have Isaac Newton.

Then there is Allison Page, who is described as a 9-year-old only child. Reflecting on the biblical story of Cain and Abel, Allison opines, “It just doesn’t make sense. A brother wouldn’t kill his brother.”

Ah, the innocence of children. Just wait until you have siblings, Allison.

Thursday, June 28, started out as a pampered day in Mrs. Laura Bush’s four-nation Africa marathon.

Lusaka, Zambia, was the third stop in her week-long trip through Senegal, Mozambique, and Mali. After a private breakfast in one of the top hotels, she was sped to the country’s luxurious presidential residency for photos, coffee, and a brief closed-door meeting with President Levy Mwanawasa.

After that, accompanied by her Zambian counterpart, First Lady Maureen Mwanawasa, Mrs. Bush hit the road. “I hope you have comfortable shoes,” she had warned at the beginning of her trip. “We will work hard.” In Lusaka, she certainly did.

Her first stop was Regiment Basic School—a grade 1–9 Catholic-founded school populated by children with HIV and children who have lost parents due to the virus. Mrs. Bush observed a few minutes of a math lesson offered through a U.S.-funded, locally produced radio program.

Next she was entertained by the school drama group, which put on a 10-minute, anti-AIDS play. Then she held an informal roundtable discussion with 13 female students, some HIV positive, all supported by either the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) or the Africa Education Initiative (AEI). Both PEPFAR and AEI provide hundreds of millions annually in U.S. taxpayer funds to help children in Africa with education and health care.

The final event at the school was a visit to the new Play Pump—a merry-go-round attached to a water pump. The invention is designed to provide clean drinking water from a deep well, and it’s kid-powered. Mrs. Bush noted, “It runs on the energy of children at play and is a fun [piece of] equipment in the schoolyard.”

Abstinence education brings ‘dignity’

A cloud of red dust announced the arrival of the heavily guarded entourage that took Mrs. Bush and her daughter Jenna to the Mututa Memorial Center. Center director Martha Chilufuya’s late husband, having received a lot of home-based care during his long illness, donated half of their farm to care-giving initiatives.

Today, thanks to PEPFAR, local, and international support, the center has 36 caregivers serving 200 people. Faith-based organizations such as World Vision, Catholic Relief Services, Expanded Church Response, and the Salvation Army are involved in a consortium known as RAPIDS (Reaching HIV/AIDS Affected People with Integrated Development and Support). These organizations help operate a community garden producing food and income for caregivers and their clients.

Speaking to the Bush delegation, World Vision’s Bruce Wilkinson, a leader with RAPIDS, said, “Today is a day to celebrate.”

And it was. Salvation Army–supported youth put on a skit. Women, mostly widows, sang and danced. A choir of children moved the audience with their song, “I know the Lord will make a way for me.” Young women, led by American Idol finalist Melinda Doolittle, performed the hymn “Amazing Grace.”

Mrs. Bush presented an American face that poverty-stricken Zambians rarely see. “Zambia is a strong partner with the United States,” she said. “Our two countries are working to advance goals shared by people everywhere: improved opportunities for families, economic empowerment, and, most of all, good health.”

Mrs. Bush, seemingly oblivious to the blazing mid-day sun and the raging debate over faith-based HIV-prevention through abstinence programs, drove home the role of faith-based organizations in the fight against HIV, malaria, and other diseases.

This is a theme she’d taken up starting the day before in Mozambique. “Faith-based organizations have local connections,” she said at a Maputo, Mozambique, seminary. “Churches, monasteries, temples, mosques, and synagogues have gone where no one else would.” Places of worship are community centers, she said: “They serve as focal points for education, for distribution of commodities, and for advocacy for the needs of their people.”

Mututa seemed the right place to drive this point home. “One of the greatest sources of hope is the compassion of people of faith,” she said. “In the United States and around the world, I have seen how houses of worship inspire volunteers with their messages of charity and hope.”

The impact of faith-based initiatives is evident, Mrs. Bush said. “Millions of people have heard these messages, and they are putting their faith into practice across the continent of Africa.” In case there was a doubter in the audience, she cited an immediate example. “Here at Mututa, parents and caregivers know very well the healing power of faith,” she added.

Later, Christianity Today asked Zambian First Lady Mwanawasa whether advancing abstinence using public resources was an issue in Zambia. “Not at all,” she said. “As Zambians, we consider churches one of our biggest partners.” The teaching of the church is critical, she said: “The message of abstinence is very important in preventing new infections.”

She mentioned another plus, too. “It brings dignity to young people,” Zambian First Lady Mwanawasa said. “It must continue.”

Will Aid Continue?

During the program at Mututa, Bishop Joshua Banda, pastor of one of the largest Assemblies of God churches in the country, sat in the fourth row.

The bishop was encouraged by what he heard. “This is really heart-warming,” he told CT. Banda, whose church runs a PEPFAR-funded project for orphans and vulnerable children, has followed closely the abstinence debate in the U.S. and is concerned.

“Will there be PEPFAR funding after the end of the Bush administration?” he asked, calling the possibility of losing it “heart-breaking.” Banda said he prays that the Bush-backed funding to help Africa fight HIV through encouraging abstinence continues. (The Bush administration has asked Congress for another $30 billion to fight HIV for the next five years.)

Banda is disappointed that abstinence remains a topic of debate in the U.S. “We are beyond that,” he said, before dashing to his car to beat the Lusaka traffic jam worsened by Mrs. Bush’s convoy.

After a quick Zambian lunch at Mututa, Mrs. Bush was back on the road headed for Chreso Ministries, another PEPFAR-funded, faith-based HIV/AIDS initiative. Chreso started as an outreach of a local church founded by Lusaka-based German preacher Helmut Reutter.

The ministry encourages voluntary testing and provides antiretroviral medications to 2,500 adults and 100 children. Mrs. Bush’s tour of the health facility ended in the church’s sanctuary, where she chatted informally with staff and patients.

After the Chreso visit, Mrs. Bush was taken a little outside of Lusaka to a rural project that serves as a transit home for street children and also offers microfinance opportunities to women from surrounding communities. Mrs. Bush was pleased to see women “able to take care of themselves.”

Speaking at a formal evening event just before her departure, Mrs. Bush again commented on the role of faith-based organizations.

“We saw very moving and sweet faith-based projects, where ministers and pastors and imams are working in their communities to extend the reach of care to people who are either ill or vulnerable,” she said. “America stands with you.”

Mrs. Bush arrives back in the United States this weekend.

Copyright © 2007 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

Related Elsewhere:

Tim Morgan commented on Laura Bush’s visit to Africa in CT Liveblog.

More about the First Lady’s trip, including her June 27 and 28 remarks, is available from her White House webpage.

Our other articles on AIDS/HIV and Africa are available online.

News from Laura Bush’s visit to Zambia includes:

Bound for Africa, First Lady Defends AIDS Relief | Interview with First Lady Laura Bush a week before she travels to Africa, where she will assess the progress of President George W. Bush’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief. (NPR’s All Things Considered)

Laura Bush: Religious Groups Key to Aid | First lady Laura Bush promoted the role of faith-based organizations in combating disease in Africa as she launched an anti-malaria campaign in Zambia on Thursday. (The Washington Post)

Zambia to get extra $266 mln in US AIDS funds | – Zambia will receive an extra $266 million in U.S. help to fight AIDS, officials said on Thursday, as U.S. first lady Laura Bush launched the distribution of 500,000 mosquito nets in the African country. (Reuters)

In Africa with first lady, Jenna Bush steals the show | Jenna Bush grabs international spotlight traveling to Africa with her mother. (CNN)

Church planters who receive money from the Missouri Baptist Convention (MBC) must now teach alcohol abstinence. The policy change was sparked by the Journey, a growing interdenominational church that borrowed $200,000 from the MBC to renovate a church two years ago. One of the Journey's outreach groups meets in a St. Louis microbrewery.

"Theology at the Bottleworks was started to reach people who are actively opposed to Christianity, by discussing contemporary cultural issues in a neutral environment," explained Darrin Patrick, founding pastor of the Journey, which attracts about 1,500 people weekly to three sites. Those who attend Theology at the Bottleworks grab a beer and discuss political or spiritual topics, such as the role of women in society, the legal system, or animal rights.

The outreach caught the MBC off guard, said interim executive director David Tolliver. "We need to engage the culture, but without compromising our biblical, traditional Baptist values," Tolliver said. "For me, that includes abstinence from alcohol."

Patrick said that the Journey adheres to the same theological confessions as the MBC, the state division of the Southern Baptist Convention.

Because the Journey received the money by loan, not by grant, the new policy does not affect the church. But future borrowers will be scrutinized more closely, Tolliver said. Previously, church planters were asked to sign a statement agreeing to abstain from alcohol. Now they must teach "the strong biblical warnings" against drinking beer and wine. Though the Bible does not expressly forbid alcohol consumption, the new policy states that alcohol consumption is not wise.

The policy addresses an ongoing SBC debate. Baptists have championed alcohol abstinence since the late 1800s, but a growing number want the SBC to reexamine the issue, said Timothy George, dean of Beeson Divinity School.

"There is growing discontent, people saying that we shouldn't be mandating things that aren't spoken clearly about in Scripture," George said. "It's hard to argue that the Bible requires total abstinence."

After heated arguments at the annual SBC meeting in June 2006, messengers passed a resolution affirming abstinence.

Mark DeVine, professor at Midwest Baptist Theological Seminary, sees the new MBC policy as part of a struggle between traditional churches and the young "emerging" church. The Journey's Patrick serves as vice president of Acts 29, a church-planting network led by Seattle pastor Mark Driscoll. Driscoll describes Acts 29 as "theologically conservative and culturally liberal." About one-quarter of Acts 29 churches affiliate with the SBC.

The controversy may not stop with alcohol. MBC executive board member Michael Knight, who chairs the theological study committee, has proposed that the MBC sever all contact, financial and otherwise, with Acts 29.

Copyright © 2007 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

Related Elsewhere:

Weblog commented on The Journey's controversial outreach and other churches that meet in bars.

Theology at the Bottleworks meets the third Wednesday of each month.

The Journey is an Acts 29 church, part of the emerging movement. The network's website has a section on its doctrine and another on alcohol.

Related articles include:

Beer and the Bible | In December Baptist leaders began questioning the church's methods of attracting worshippers, specifically its use of alcohol (St. Louis Post-Dispatch)

Churches oppose mix with alcohol | An exemption in Tavares allows serving booze near places of worship downtown (The Orlando Sentinel)

Alcohol, Acts 29 and the SBC | "How about beer with your Bible?" (Baptist Press)

In the fall of 2003, Cecil “Cec” Murphey, a professional writer who has written or co-authored more than 100 books, got a call from a Texas Baptist minister named Don Piper. Back in the late 1980s, Piper had been in a horrific auto accident—his Ford Escort was literally run over by a semi truck. His left leg had been pulverized, his right leg broken, his pelvis shattered, and his left arm nearly severed. Yet Piper fought back and learned to walk again—an almost miraculous recovery.

The problem was in writing about another part of Piper’s story.

When Texas state troopers arrived at the scene of his accident, they found no pulse, so they covered Piper with a tarp and began clearing traffic. When another Baptist pastor, Dick Onerecker, arrived on the scene, he prayed for Piper and sang several hymns. In the middle of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” Onerecker heard Piper singing along.

During the 90 minutes between the accident and his reawakening, Piper says he went to heaven. He stood before a gate made of pearl and was welcomed by loved ones. Just before passing through the gate, Piper felt snatched back to earth and woke up in his crushed Ford.

Murphey, a former pastor, thought Piper’s tale resembled something out of Embraced by the Light and told Piper he couldn’t help him write a book about it. But Piper persisted. After praying, Murphey agreed to collaborate on the project. The more he worked on the book, the more he realized its potential.

“I had a gut feeling: It was either going to be a big book or a total flop,” Murphey says. He thought a big book was more likely—perhaps even big enough to land Murphey on The New York Times bestseller list for the first time in his long career.

Three years and nearly 1.5 million copies later, Piper and Murphey’s collaboration, 90 Minutes in Heaven, is one of the bestselling Christian books in America and a sign of the unpredictable nature of Christian publishing. It is good news in a nervous industry, an unexpected bonus in a time of slipping sales and publisher consolidation, when everyone is waiting for the Next Big Thing.

The Trouble with Blockbusters

Discerning exactly what’s happening in publishing is tricky. Unlike the film industry, where finding the latest box-office figures is as easy as typing boxofficemojo.com, the sales figures for books are a mystery.

Publishers release good news: Zondervan, for example, will mention that it’s sold 250,000 copies of its audio Bible Experience, 250,000 copies of Rob Bell’s Velvet Elvis, and 30 million copies of The Purpose-Driven Life. Thomas Nelson touts its 19 New York Times bestsellers and the fact that 49 of its books sold at least 100,000 copies last year, including Blue Like Jazz, which is now approaching a million sales overall. But neither publisher releases comprehensive sales data.

“There is no objective way to track sales data in the book publishing industry,” Lynn Garrett, religion editor of Publishers Weekly, told CT. “The only way you can get sales data is from publishers themselves—so you kind of have to believe what they tell you.”

In recent years, Christian publishing has enjoyed a string of Godzilla-sized hits—starting with the Left Behind series (with sales of more than 60 million copies), followed by The Prayer of Jabez (more than 9 million sold), and then The Purpose-Driven Life. While these books have been a boon to publishers and retailers, they skew the market, says Garrett.

“In the Christian market, everybody is looking for the next Purpose-Driven Life,” she says. “Sales of Christian books were down slightly last year because there was no huge blockbuster.” According to the American Association of Publishers, sales of religious books fell 10.2 percent in 2006.

The blockbuster effect has spread beyond Christian retailers. Chains such as Barnes & Noble, Costco, and Wal-Mart have used Christian blockbusters (along with Harry Potter and The Da Vinci Code) as loss leaders, sold at little or no profit to entice customers into stores.

In a recent editorial called “Devil’s Bargain,” Sara Nelson, editor in chief of Publisher Weekly, wondered if the strategy has backfired, pointing to recent struggles at B&N, which closed its Memphis distribution center and posted lower-than-expected earnings. Nelson noted that “discounting is a dangerous strategy—when it doesn’t work, it really doesn’t work.”

Scott Bolinder, executive vice president of Zondervan, wonders if Christian publishers have become dependent on blockbusters. “I think we’ve gotten used to what used to be anomalies being ‘regular anomalies,’ ” Bolinder told CT. “As an industry, we’ve gotten too reliant on blockbusters—and we don’t think that’s a good thing.”

Zondervan has seen both sides of a blockbuster. “We will have a little bit of a down year—based on recalibrating from The Purpose-Driven Life,” Bolinder says. “Take that piece out, and our business is healthy. But the whole publishing industry is in some very tough sledding.”

The pressure for blockbusters will likely increase. Christian publishers Multnomah (now part of Random House), Howard (now owned by Simon & Schuster), and Thomas Nelson (a privately held, wholly owned subsidiary of Faith Media, a division of InterMedia Partners) were bought up, while general trade publishers like Penguin Putnam launched Christian imprints.

“When companies get bigger, they want to publish bigger books,” says Garrett. “They want to publish fewer books and get more money out of them, so they look for big-name authors. It’s quite a bit harder in that type of market for first-time authors or mid-list authors to get their books out.”

Sustained Popularity

Despite reports of a downturn in sales, Christian books remain remarkably popular. A bestseller list, compiled by Thomas Nelson president Michael Hyatt and based on data from general market bookstores, Christian retailers, and mass-market outlets, gives an indication of how popular.

On Hyatt’s list, 14 of the top 100 books from 2006 were Christian titles. These included Nelson’s low-cost paperback of the New King James Version (2), The Purpose-Driven Life (12), Your Best Life Now by Joel Osteen (19), The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis (the Zondervan edition was 26, the Harper Collins edition 47), The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman (27), Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge (28), Jerusalem Countdown by John Hagee (43), 90 Minutes in Heaven (61), Battlefield of the Mind by Joyce Meyer (83), the Fiesta Bible Book (85), Cure for the Common Life by Max Lucado (90), Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis (91), and Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller (98).

Most of these books fall into the “Christian living” subcategory, says PW‘s Garrett. “Basically, it’s Christian self-help,” Garrett says, “and self-help is huge in the general market.”

Most bestsellers have authors with a “platform”—the publishing industry’s term for authors with a built-in audience, usually from a large church or media exposure. But a platform is no guarantee. Missing from that top 100 list, for example, are Living the Extraordinary Life by Charles Stanley and Billy Graham’s The Journey. Garrett says both were launched with big expectations, but both stumbled. Hyatt confirms that Graham’s book was a disappointment, attributing its struggles to Graham’s ill health, the 10-year gap between The Journey and Graham’s last book (“That’s an ice age in today’s world,” he says), and the fickle nature of the book market.

“This new generation does not know him,” Hyatt says.

Garrett says that religion books mirror the contentious nature of American culture. She expects books on atheism to remain big—with God Is Not Great by Christopher Hitchens released last month (following 2006 bestsellers like The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins)—along with books on religion and politics, Intelligent Design, and creationism.

“Books that seemed to do really well are the ones dealing with controversies,” she says. “What you see in religion publishing is a reflection of a deeply divided country with some really sharp disagreements on some hot-button issues.”

Books about the Gospel of Judas or other gnostic Gospels will also remain popular, Garrett predicts. “Mary Magdalene is fading from view, but Judas is coming on strong,” she says.

Anti-gnostic books have had mixed results. Darrell Bock’s Breaking the Da Vinci Code sold more than 500,000 copies, but N. T. Wright’s Judas and the Gospel of Jesus “was a blip,” says Garrett.

Michael G. Maudlin, editorial director of HarperSanFrancisco, says that despite market pressures, editors and publishers still often go with their gut and choose books they think are important, rather than simply profitable.

HarperSanFrancisco (which was renamed HarperOne) published Not for Sale: The Return of the Global Slave Trade—and How We Can Fight It by David Batstone as a tie-in to Amazing Grace, the William Wilberforce biopic.

“It’s really hard to sell a book on human trafficking. People tend not to want to buy books about bad news,” Maudlin says.

Maudlin also cites several recent bestsellers that have thrived based on quality writing, rather than a platform, including Blue Like Jazz.

“His success is due to his writing,” says Maudlin, “not because he’s got a famous church or television program. That’s been encouraging.”

Bob Smietana is features editor for The Covenant Companion and co-author of G.P. Taylor: Sin, Salvation and Shadowmancer.

Copyright © 2007 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

Related Elsewhere:

Reviews, excerpts, and other articles on recent books are available in our special section.

‘‘ tells what evangelical leaders say are the priorities and challenges for the next 50 years.

Christianity Today‘s coverage of books mentioned in this article includes:

Travel Writing from the Afterlife | If the Bible doesn’t quench your curiosity on what it’s like in heaven and hell, we have two new firsthand accounts. (May 30, 2006)

Familiar Word | Famous black voices eagerly join audio Bible project. (December 14, 2006)

The Top 50 Books That Have Shaped Evangelicals | Landmark titles that changed the way we think, talk, witness, worship, and live. (October 6, 2006)

Heard Any Good Books Lately? | Audio is the new medium, and Christian publishers are getting the message. (June 1, 2006)

Forget Your Bliss | The success of The Purpose-Driven Life reveals a cultural opportunity. A Christianity Today editorial. (March 1, 2004)

A Better Storyteller | Donald Miller helps culturally conflicted evangelicals make peace with their faith. (June 1, 2007)

What (Not All) Women Want | The finicky femininity of ‘Captivating’ by John and Stasi Eldredge. (August 1, 2006)

Jesus Out of Focus | The Da Vinci Code is raising issues that go to the heart of the Christian faith—and it’s starting to confuse us all. (June 1, 2006)

Stand and stare in awe at the poster for Lajos Koltai’s new film Evening. Look at that impressive cast list. Vanessa Redgrave! Meryl Streep! Glenn Close! Claire Danes! Toni Collette! All in the same movie!

It gets better: Redgrave gets to share a scene with her real-life daughter Natasha Richardson. And the mother/daughter goodness doesn’t stop there: Streep plays a senior citizen who appears in flashback played by her real-life daughter, Mamie Gummer.

With that kind of star power and intrigue, it’s likely that Evening will draw crowds of moviegoers with high expectations. But many will be disappointed.

Evening feels artificial from the very first shot. We see a young woman reclining peacefully on a boat, resting on placid Rhode Island waters against a vivid sunset. Some may find the image breathtakingly beautiful. But there’s something strangely artificial about it. It’s so picturesque, with that digitally manufactured sky and that woman so perfectly posed, that it feels sentimental and idealistic—the stuff of vacation-brochure photography.

In the same way, the rest of the movie is obsessed with wishful thinking. And thus, we’re in for two hours of breakdowns due to life’s disappointments. But those moviegoers who stop to think about the characters’ choices will find it hard to pity them. They’re all prisoners either of their own decisions, their adolescent urges, or their culture. “We are mysterious creatures,” murmurs one old woman, reflecting on her life. The mystery, from where I sit, is this: What in the world does this movie want us to learn from these unhappy people?

There’s “no such thing as a mistake,” according to the film’s appointed voice of wisdom. And yet, the film’s 117 minutes are full of evidence that people can make catastrophic decisions and regret them for the rest of their lives.

The film is drawn from an acclaimed 2005 novel by Susan Minot. But screenwriter Michael Cunningham changes the location, eliminates and revises characters, and brings one of Minot’s peripheral characters to the forefront. (A recent New York Times article details these revisions, and Minot’s lack of enthusiasm for Cunningham’s work.) Instead of a story about sisters who learn lessons by uncovering lost chapters of their mother’s life, Cunningham wants to tell a story about Buddy, a sexually confused drunkard who feels trapped in an oppressive society.

Since Buddy brings so much baggage with him, and since we already have a host of complicated characters, Evening feels like several conflicting narratives competing for our attention. In fact, it feels like Cunningham is trying to turn Minot’s story into a continuation of his own pathos-saturated novel, The Hours, in which characters imprisoned in a culture of conformity suffered and longed for something more. What might have been a revealing meditation on mother/daughter relationships becomes muddled by questions about gender and sexual orientation.

The story introduces us to Ann Lord (Redgrave), an old woman on her deathbed being cared for by her daughters, Constance and Nina (Richardson and Collette), and her Irish “night nurse” (Eileen Atkins). As Ann fades in and out of consciousness, she murmurs about her memories, delirious. Her daughters are surprised. “Who’s Harris?” “What was this ‘big mistake’?” “What does she mean, ‘Harris and I killed Buddy‘?”

Constance writes off these fragments as mere delusion. Constance has a marriage and three children to worry about, and isn’t interested in unsettling revelations or scandal.

But Nina is unstable. Her life’s a scrapbook of mistakes. Confused about her relationship with her latest boyfriend, she’s having trouble sorting out her priorities. If her mother really does regret some big mistake, Nina wants to uncover it and glean what wisdom she can. So she begins to piece together the mystery of her mother’s past. Eventually, it will be up to Ann’s old friend Lila (Streep) to drop by for a visit, fill in the blanks, and solve the puzzle.

We have an advantage over Nina. We get to watch Ann’s “big mistake” unfold on one fateful weekend in the 1950s. (This may remind moviegoers of another Redgrave movie—Mrs. Dalloway—which also flashed forward and backward in time. Nastasha McElhone played the young Dalloway; here, young Ann is played by Claire Danes.)

In this earlier story, Ann’s close friend, Lila Wittenborn (Gummer), is reluctantly preparing to wed the respectable Carl Ross. This delights her mother (Close), her father (Barry Bostwick), and the whole snobbish community.

But we quickly learn that Lila’s heart does not belong to her fiancé. She’s obsessed instead with Harris (Little Children’s Patrick Wilson), the handsome son of the family housekeeper. This obsession is obvious not only to Ann but also to Lila’s brother Buddy (Hugh Dancy), a sexually confused alcoholic. Together, Ann and Buddy try to convince Lila to call off the wedding.

To make matters worse, Buddy is also attracted to Harris.

And then, of course, Ann becomes attracted to him too. But Ann, who is so different from this wealthy, formal, dishonest community, is not afraid to let her passions lead her. She’s a rash, impulsive, bohemian singer. It’s only a matter of time before she’s running off into the woods with Harris for a night of lustful indulgence.

The love story of Ann and Harris is not only unconvincing, it’s entirely superficial and shallow. We’re meant to swoon as they fall in love, and then to grieve at the tragic events that follow. But the relationship is so ill-advised and foolish to begin with, it’s difficult to feel much for them at all.

The portrayal of Harris is the film’s biggest problem. We’re supposed to believe that Harris is the glorious sun which all of these morose young ladies orbit. But he’s more like a black hole than a star. Patrick Wilson was born to play immature charmers like this; he’s like a bewildered child in the body of an Abercrombie & Fitch model. In Little Children, director Todd Field employed Wilson’s presence to make profound observations about irresponsibility and immaturity. But here, even though Wilson’s Harris is similarly reckless and naï ve, Cunningham and Koltai hold him up as some kind of golden god.

As the women sigh and coo and murmur, “No one ever moved me like Harris,” you realize how superficial and shallow they all are. Later, Ann questions whether Harris was so ideal, but the film offers us nothing more appealing than that adolescent fantasy. And the world of grownups—of marriage, family, commitment, and tradition—is portrayed as a purgatory of regret, burdensome compromises, and disappointment. While the film culminates in one character’s agreement to give up her obstinate ways and “grow up,” there’s very little joy in that conclusion.

The hollowness at the center of Evening has everything to do with its mixed messages about happiness. It reveres shallow romantic fantasies, and then laments that we have to give them up in order to shoulder the burden of maturity. What these characters need is to overcome their malignant nostalgia and discover the joy that comes from real, unselfish love.

But there are other problems. This convergence of so many legendary actresses might have been a master class in acting. Instead, it looks like a contest to see which actress can shed the tears that will win a Best Supporting Actress Oscar.

Worst of all is Glenn Close as Mrs. Wittenborn, the queen bee of this poisonous hive. She’s only onscreen for a few minutes, playing a matriarch whose denial is as frightening as her maniacal grin. It’s a one-note character, and in this keyboard of one-note characters, it’s a minor note indeed—but she pounds on it until it breaks. When crisis hits the family, her atomic breakdown recalls Sean Penn’s Oscar-begging (and, alas, Oscar-winning) Mystic River meltdown.

It’s too bad, really, because there are some real performances here. They’re hard to find amidst the melodrama, but Toni Collette gives Nina convincing details and dimension. Redgrave and Streep find a wonderful tenderness in their fleeting scene, and they leave us hungry for more. But the story is more interested in pretty, empty moments. When Ann dances out of her deathbed in a moment of magical realism to chase luminescent moths, it looks suspiciously like a commercial for air freshener.

The movie’s strongest scene brings Danes up for an amateur’s turn at the microphone, singing a sultry jazz number in front of the wedding party. It’s not lip-synched, it’s real. And when Wilson steps up for backing vocals, oh how you want something magical to occur—something like that recent Gap commercial, in which Danes and Wilson dance across our television screens with heart, chemistry, and grace. But no, there’s nothing so spirited, spontaneous, and alive as that commercial here in this morass of melodrama and misguided behavior.

Talk About It

Discussion starters

1. Discuss Ann and Harris’s relationship. Is it an admirable romance? Are they a good match? Why do you think Ann perceives it, in retrospect, as a “mistake”?
2. What is the purpose of feelings of guilt and regret? Consider some of your own errors in judgment. What have you learned from your mistakes?
3. Describe Lila’s family. What are they like? What do they value? Do they make it comfortable for their children to discuss their feelings? What might have changed if Buddy and Lila had been able to express themselves more freely?
4. What might have helped Buddy find a fulfilling life? Did Ann and Harris really “kill Buddy”?
5. Why does Nina make the decision that she does in the film’s final act? Is this a wise decision? Has she really learned something?
6. What do you think the storyteller’s thoughts are on true love and marriage?

The Family Corner

For parents to consider

Evening is rated PG-13, for some thematic elements, sexual material, a brief accident scene and language. It includes stark portrayals of drunkenness, reckless romance, and premarital sex. The film is, at best, suspicious of the institutions of marriage and family, and characters seem prone to marrying badly and feeling trapped by having children.

Photos © Copyright Focus Features

Copyright © 2007 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

What other Christian critics are saying:

• Plugged In
• Crosswalk
• Catholic News Service
• Past the Popcorn

Attention, parents, kids, anybody who appreciates good movies and great food! Ratatouille is a feast so fantastic you’ll go running back for seconds. And if you pay close attention, you’ll also see that it’s a film that tells two great stories at the same time.

The first story is what you’ll see on the big screen. And the second—at least the way I see it—is a more subtle, almost allegorical re-telling of what really happened to one of the 20th century’s most-loved and enduring pop culture icons …. Walt Disney himself.

Once upon a time, there was an adventurous French chef named Auguste Gusteau (think Walt Disney) whose Paris kitchen (think Disney studios) was famous for awe-inspiring cuisine (Disney’s classic animated features, like Pinocchio).

Gusteau knew his strengths and focused on them, serving up heaping plates of excellence to the delight of the customers at his self-titled restaurant. Gusteau’s and its namesake became legendary worldwide.

But then, for one reason or another, the quality of his work began to falter. He died, and his successors (think …. Michael Eisner?) sold out, stamping the Gusteau (Disney) name on all manner of mediocrity. The master’s face and name eventually flew like a banner over mediocre microwave meals (frivolous features like Pocahontas, and disposable straight-to-video sequels to Disney classics). And eventually his name represented fare that seemed completely unrelated to his legacy (The Muppets?).

And while the masses seemed content to choke down anything contained in a Gusteau can (or released on a Disney label), it looked like Gusteau’s name would become synonymous with trash.

Enter Remy, a little rat with a nose for excellence and a passion for cooking. (Enter director Brad Bird, the brilliant storyteller and filmmaker behind The Iron Giant and The Incredibles.)

Remy would never, in normal circ*mstances, be allowed into the great Gusteau’s kitchen. He’s a rat after all, likely to be exterminated before his extraordinary talent wins the attention it deserves. (Bird’s Iron Giant was badly botched by Warner Brothers, who didn’t know that they had a classic on their hands. Thus it never got the box office it deserved.)

But then, Remy meets Linguini (voiced by Lou Romano), a gawky, insecure fellow who works as the kitchen garbage boy. He couldn’t cook a microwave dinner if he tried. And yet, when Remy climbs beneath Linguini’s chef hat and begins to direct Linguini around the kitchen by pulling on his hair—presto! Or should I say, Pesto?

Can a little guy with a big imagination step into that famous kitchen and restore it to its former glory? Yes. (And yes!)

With Remy’s creative genius and Linguini’s access to the pots, pans, and ingredients, a new Gusteau masterpiece is just a matter of time. (In the same way, Pixar’s powerful chemistry has produced a string of masterpieces …. delivered with the Disney label: A Bug’s Life, Toy Story 2, Monsters Inc., Finding Nemo, The Incredibles, and Cars.)

The story then begins to resemble the Coen Brothers’ Hudsucker Proxy. By underestimating a simpleton who works at the lowest level, Skinner the wicked franchise-master (voiced brilliantly by Ian “Bilbo Baggins” Holm) unwittingly jeopardizes his moneymaking empire.

When the simpleton serves up a super soup, it seems that the Paris spotlight just might shine on Gusteau’s again. It all depends on the reaction of the city’s most demanding food critic, Anton Ego, who looks down his nose at almost everything. And with his nose, that’s a very long way indeed.

While it seems inappropriate to equate Brad Bird with a rat, Ratatouille clearly reflects what has happened since Pixar arrived in the Disney kitchen (for more details, see this book and/or this). It isn’t just the audience that has responded with enthusiasm. The critics—snobs, crowdpleasers, egomaniacs, and experts of all stripes—have lavished Pixar’s productions with rave reviews.

But whatever you make of the subtext, you’re likely to agree with the hard-to-please critics who embrace this dazzling—dare I say profound?—motion picture. No matter your age, you’ll probably find Ratatouille both satisfying and nourishing. In fact, it may be the first Pixar production more likely to win fans among adults than children. (At 111 minutes, it may test some toddlers’ patience.)

A few words about animation: Just when you think that Pixar has set an unsurpassable standard (Finding Nemo, The Incredibles), they astonish us with new innovations.

The most impressive aspect of Ratatouille‘s animation is its depth and color. When the Almighty sees the glory of a Paris sunrise in this movie, he might just give Pixar the controls for real-world artistry. The dark, reflective surface of the rushing stream that washes Remy away from his family of thieving rodents proves that even the gutter can be beautiful through the eyes of an artist.

Even more surprising is Pixar’s continuing progress in creating animated human beings. Ratatouille introduces two outrageous cartoon personalities—Skinner the diminutive head chef, and Anton Ego, the stilt-legged restaurant critic whose attitude fits his name (voiced with grandiose contempt by Peter O’Toole). Both of them command our attention even more powerfully than the fuzzy little critters. Ego, with his magisterial condescension and Nosferatu posture, deserves a place in the Disney villain hall of fame alongside Cruella de Vil and Captain Hook.

But Linguini (Lou Romano) is the main event. He’s the most reluctant of Disney heroes since The Rescuers‘ Bernard, but what he lacks in personality he more than makes up for in choreography. Cooking up a storm, Linguini flails about the kitchen like a marionette in the hands of a particularly animated (pun certainly intended) puppeteer. Remember when Steve Martin was possessed by Lily Tomlin’s ghost in All of Me? You get the picture.

It wouldn’t be Paris without romance, and this stew is spiced with the help of a beautiful, hard-working chef named Colette Tautou (Janeane Garofalo), who laments the difficulty of being a woman in the dog-eat-dog restaurant industry.

And as you watch Colette and Linguini work, you’ll be enthralled by the animators’ attention to detail. These kitchens bustle in a way that shows the animators’ research in some first-rate kitchens. Ratatouille is probably the first animated feature to deserve inclusion on the list of great “foodie” films, alongside Babette’s Feast, Mostly Martha, Big Night, Like Water for Chocolate, Sideways, and Eat Drink Man Woman. Fine restaurants located alongside movie theaters are about to experience a boost in their business.

Enough about animation: Any movie helmed by Brad Bird is just as much a feat of storytelling as it is a triumph of animation. And Ratatouille is no exception.

From Cinderella to An American Tail, we’ve seen a lot of rodents on the big screen. (Watch for one clear visual nod of acknowledgement to Don Bluth’s The Secret of NIMH.) But Remy, voiced by comedian Patton Oswalt, is remarkable. Where most famous rodents are merely clever, Remy has a passion for culinary creativity.

As Remy tries to save his fellow rats from the humiliation of swallowing trash, he discovers what so many art lovers already know: It’s hard to teach good taste. To steal a phrase from Franky Schaeffer, this fast-food nation is addicted to mediocrity. As we content ourselves on junk food, avoiding the opportunity to experience new things and discover delicious, nourishing fare, we also demonstrate our lack of discernment in what we choose to watch on television, order from iTunes, or see at the movies. Excellence matters, says Remy. And he tries to awaken his friends to a new world of flavor. As he does, savory sensations are illustrated brilliantly through abstract explosions of color.

There is so much to enjoy and celebrate here, Ratatouille deserves more than a review: it could (and probably will) inspire books about creativity and good taste. First and foremost, it’s a story about claiming your passion, and pursuing it with excellence, whether you make big bucks or not. Children and grownups alike will learn the joy of adventurous taste—not just in the kitchen, but in art.

And as it urges us toward an appreciation of excellence, it also gives snobs a roundhouse kick to the palate. In the film’s closing act, the storytellers dare to address the role of the critic in society. They remind us that, while we should certainly set our standards high and muster the guts to call garbage what it is, we should also remember that criticism must come from a place of love and passion, not cynicism, arrogance, or condescension. We should recognize greatness, originality, and vision wherever we find it—whether it’s from an unknown Ukrainian director at the Venice Film Festival, or from an American storyteller inside Disney studios. It’s an ambitious subject for an animated feature. Handled with such grace and insight, it raises Ratatouille to greatness.

So go ahead, serve yourself a heaping plate of Ratatouille, which is likely to be remembered as 2007’s summer moviegoing peak. It’ll be hard for some to admit, but thanks to this Parisian fairy tale, Walt Disney Studios is once again the premiere filmmaking kitchen in America. Like those diners who swoon at the aroma wafting from Remy’s restaurant, moviegoers will keep coming back for seconds, and thirds, so long as Brad Bird is in the kitchen.

Talk About It

Discussion starters

1. What had gone wrong in Gusteau’s kitchens after his death? What did Remy and Linguini do that changed things?
2. What was wrong with Skinner’s moneymaking scheme for the kitchen?
3. Compare the situation in the kitchen to the situation in contemporary entertainment on television and at the movies. Do most people show discernment and a demand for excellence? Or do we accept mediocre entertainment? How might we encourage the production of better, more creative, more exciting work?
4. Are critics just snobs? Or do they serve an important role? Do you value the opinion of food critics? Music critics? Film critics?
5. Almost everyone has a particular subject of expertise in which they happily expound upon the difference between “the good stuff” and mediocrity. What is your particular passion? How can we be enthusiastic about our passions for excellence without becoming snobs?

The Family Corner

For parents to consider

Remy and his long-tailed friends have to escape some scary predicaments, including a shotgun-wielding granny in a lengthy (and somewhat scary) scene near the beginning of the film. But that’s as rough as it gets in this G-rated and family-friendly film.

Photos © Copyright Disney/Pixar

Copyright © 2007 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

What other Christian critics are saying:

• Plugged In
• Crosswalk
• Catholic News Service
• Past the Popcorn

Last month, many readers responded to my column on Sabbath. Many of the comments and questions were focused on rules: which day of the week should it be? What should be prohibited?

For someone who doesn’t practice any Sabbath at all, to argue about the day is to jump too far ahead in the journey. As we mature in our Sabbath practice, God may lead us to a specific day. But we have to start where we are, and often, that means just being convinced that taking a day off is a good idea.

Ironically, many churches are the ones pushing people to work (i.e. volunteer, attend endless meetings, etc.) on Sabbath.

The word Sabbath comes from the Hebrew word Shabbat. It’s a verb, which means primarily to cease or desist, and secondarily, to rest.

In other words, God says, on the seventh day, Shabbat: simply stop. Stop running, stop working, just as God did on the seventh day of creation. He ceased his labor and enjoyed what he had made.

Is doing children’s ministry work? Or is it worship? Or perhaps both?

When Jesus walked this earth, he invited his followers to do ministry. Their ministry was energizing and effective (see mark 6: 12, 13) But in response to their ministry success, he invites them to come away and rest from that ministry (Mark 6:30,31).

If you do the work of children’s ministry, you may find it brings you into an appreciation for, and connection with, the love of God. Still, don’t neglect Jesus’ invitation to take time to rest.

Here’s what Jesus says: “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly” (Matthew 11:28-30, The Message).

That’s a pretty compelling offer—one that invites us to live in a Sabbath rhythm of rest and work that will empower our ministry but also feed our souls.

Here’s an excerpt from my book Breathe, where I write about Sabbath in greater detail:

Maybe you seek rest, but you are not sure how to get there. Some of us find we are able to occasionally enjoy rest and recreation, but we see them as completely compartmentalized from our spiritual lives. We’ve got “spiritual” stuff in one box, our “work” in another, and our “recreation” (often extremely competitive or dangerously escapist) in a third. They never connect. But that doesn’t sound like living freely and lightly.

For some of us, depending on how legalistic our background is, Sabbath might seem like a restrictive or punitive deal. Or it may be something we feel we want but don’t have the foggiest notion how to access.

Finding Sabbath rest, regularly practicing the Sabbath, will form our spirit into the image of Christ. When we find rest in Sabbath, that quietness can spill over into our lives, including our prayer life and our communion with God.

“One translation of the biblical phrase ‘to pray’ is ‘to come to rest.’ When Jesus prayed he was at rest, nourished by the healing spirit that saturates those still, quiet places,” Wayne Muller writes. ” … This can help us begin to understand one aspect of Sabbath time: a period of repose, when the mind settles gently into the heart.”

In my own journey, I have sought Sabbath. I am finding it in the embracing of a paradox: Sabbath is about freedom but also about surrender. It’s trusting God to act, but it’s also about making choices and acting on them.

What would your life look like if you were to “learn the unforced rhythms of grace?” How would your coming to Jesus both feed your soul and empower your ministry? There’s only one way to find out, and I challenge you to actually give it a try.

Keri Wyatt Kent is an author and speaker. Learn more at www.keriwyattkent.com

Copyright © 2007 Promiseland.