Johnny Depp and Hwin

Do any of you have movie stars that you like but don’t want to like? 

I mean…do you dislike yourself, if only a little bit, for being entertained by them? 

For me the list is long, but here are a few:  Tom Cruise, Leonardo Dicaprio, and Brad Pitt.

I never go into any movie that they’re in expecting to like it.

But I almost always do. 

And I almost always dislike the fact that I do. 

One of the reasons I feel that way is because they always have too much of themselves in their roles.

I always think of them first and their character second.

all of them have graduated to such a level of fame that I can’t help but watch them and think, “mmm Brad is being very convincing as Napoleon” or, “I didn’t know Tom could do such a great Fred Astaire impression.” 

Leonardo escapes this critique, but he’s been on my black list ever since “Titanic”

One actor who continually impresses me, however, is Johnny Depp.

Even if I find myself thinking about him and not his character, it’s fleeting.

He IS Willy Wonka

He IS Jack Sparrow

And he IS Sir. James Matthew Barrie

Now, this last name might not be so familiar to you. 

Maybe it’s because it isn’t as iconic as some of his other roles.

He played Barrie straight.

No strange affectations or costumes.  

But when Laura and I saw the movie “Finding Neverland”, we were in the final five minutes of the movie when Laura shouted, “Hey!  That’s Johnny Depp!!” 

We were at home.

Not in the theater.

I kinda wish that we had been in the theater. 

It would have been a better story.

But anyway….

Ole’ Johnny was so lost in his character, that he disappeared. 

He was that way in “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape” too, but since only me and five other people saw that movie, I won’t talk about it. 

Plus Leonardo is in it so….

But one of the things I like about Johnny is that, while his face is always recognizable, you never see him. 

Recently I’ve been listening to The Chronicles of Narnia on CD with the kids.

We keep it in the car and so whenever we drive anywhere, we listen to the story. 

Now, I’m a big fan of Narnia.

I’ve been known to check the backs of closets looking for snowy forests.

(if you don’t know what that means….READ THE BOOKS!)

Anyway, I think I may have come across one of the most beautiful passages in the whole series the other day. 

It’s in the story “The Horse and His Boy”

I won’t tell the whole story but towards the end of the book, Hwin, a talking horse, meets Aslan, The Lion for the first time. 

“Please," she said, "you're so beautiful. You may eat me if you like. I'd sooner be eaten by you then fed by anyone else.

For any of you who are familiar with The Chronicles, you will know that Aslan is Jesus. 

And so, Hwin’s words are words of devotion, worship, and total surrender. 

She’s willing to be lost in….consumed by God.

When I heard those words, I started to cry.

I cried because there was something that resonated deeply with me.

In the same way I don’t like watching actors who have too much of themselves in their roles, I don’t want to have too much of myself in my life.

I want, like Hwin the horse, to be totally consumed.

I want to be the Johnny Depp of Christendom where my life would be so characterized by God, that people would say, “Hey!  Wait!  That’s Adam.  Man…I almost didn’t recognize him.”

I want this, not in any unhealthy way, but in a Biblical way. 

You see, for once, Hollywood gives an amazing picture of Biblical paradox.

Johnny's greatness is directly linked to his ability to be consumed.  When he makes himself small and totally loses himself, that's when he's at his best.

And, much like Aslan’s response to Hwin, I believe that God’s response will be, “Joy will be yours.”

 

Shots

Alanna turned 1 last month, which means one thing to me.

Shots. 

Since I’ve never really had a “real” job (and by “real” I mean 9-5 and suits and stuff like that) I’ve been fortunate to have lots of time with the kids. 

That also means that I’ve had to take all three kids to get their shots. 

Every time. 

Well…except once. 

The one time, Laura had to bring them, she came home and looked at me with awe.

I played it cool and said, “it’s no big deal”. 

Inside I was saying “That’s right, baby!  You’re married to Superman!”

Of course Brehm’s kindergarten shots were the worst. 

I think I was more traumatized than him, which is saying something considering he was so upset he said he would rather get Polio and spend his life in a wheelchair than get another shot. 

Anyway…this week was Alanna’s turn.

I haven’t decided which is worse; shots with the older kids or the baby.

The older kids have a more expressive vocabulary with which to protest.

“OWWWWW that nurse just shoved a metal spike the size of the Eiffel Tower into my femur, Daddyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

But when they’re babies, they don’t know what’s coming.

They lay down on that butcher paper covered cushion smiling and then….

The breathless scream.

You parents know the one.

Mouth open.

No sound

Red face.

You just want to say, “Breathe! Please!  OK….not funny anymore.  Breathe!”

Then it’s over.

They get bandaids with cartoon characters or silvery holograms (yes! I know!  Where were THOSE when I was a kid?!?!) and before you know it, you’re in the car.

Now, whoever thought of inoculations was either a total genius or the scientific equivalent of a high-school boy. 

I can just see it. 

They’re in the lab with a needle full of something, triple-dog-daring each other to try it. 

The reason I say that is this:

When you explain what those shots are, it sounds completely nuts.

It’s a virus…

…but not a virus…

…because all the virus stuff has been sucked out of the insides…

…but it’s still a virus. 

And so you give yourself the virus so you don’t get the virus. 

It seems like a paradox out of medical bizzaro world.

Almost like when Jesus says, “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it”

Why is it, that I seem to have an easier time with a doctor telling me, “I need to make you sick so you won’t get sick” than I do with what Jesus has to say?

Because when I REALY think about it, it seems crazy.

Just like the shots.

That is, until I bring the concept of possession into it.

Not The Exorcist type possession.

The ownership type.

You see, “health” is not something that the doctor possesses that can be handed out. 

That’s why it’s called a “practice” instead of the “health dispensary”. 

But life….

That IS something that God possesses. 

That IS something that is His to give.

So when He says, "...whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." He's actually in a position to make good on that promise.

One the other hand, "life" is not something that I have the ability to find or create.

And so, any “life” I find or create for myself isn’t really life at all.

But as soon as I give up that counterfeit, I can receive the real deal.

The doctor can only offer “weak, non-virus virus” in exchange for “strong, deadly virus”.

But God….

But God offers “LIFE” in exchange for “not life”. 

And that seems like a pretty good deal to me.

Penny

This weekend, Laura and I went away. 

It was the first time that we’ve been away from the kids for more than one night. 

And yes...we do know that it’s kinda pathetic that our idea of a “getaway” is an intensive job interview weekend. 

My mom flew down to watch the kids. 

Because it’s been a while since she’s had them to herself (and since Elijah is going through the terrible threes) we devised a covert code with our neighbors so we could keep tabs on how things were going.  We often borrow things from each other, and so we used a basic color system. 

If my mom told us that they borrowed something green like, say, broccoli, it was “code green” and we would know that everything was OK. 

If they borrowed some bananas, we would know that things were “iffy” but otherwise OK. 

Tomatoes?  That was getting into “Lord Of The Flies” territory. 

Of course this was the weekend that they borrowed the black and blue shop vac. 

After our frantic phone call, they reassured us that using the shop vac was code for “messy van” and nothing more. 

So, knowing that things were copacetic on the home front, we relaxed and enjoyed our time in North Carolina. 

While we were there, we had some time to explore the area with the aid of our guide “Penny”. 

Penny is what we called the Tom Tom™ brand GPS that our host lent us. 

We called her that because the GPS’s voice mode was set on “British female”. 

She said things like, “take the next right and proceed onto the motorway” and, “turn right in 300 yards” and, “silly American, the pound is stronger than the dollar”. 

She also couldn’t seem to find any Starbucks but could easily find the quickest route to the local gourmet teashop. 

Go figure. 

So, Penny directed us around town. 

But we weren’t so sure about Penny. 

Sometimes she would take us through the winding back roads as a “short cut” instead of keeping to the main streets. 

While I’m sure that she was just trying to take the quickest route, it made us very skeptical. 

Was she, perhaps, going to get us lost just to get even for the Revolutionary War? 

We didn’t know. 

But we had no choice but to follow her commands.

Even when they seemed crazy. 

And thankfully we discovered that, despite her mildly sinister politeness, she was a very reliable guide.

Even when we had our bearings and deviated from her course, she faithfully persisted to speak directions that would bring us back to where we were supposed to go. 

And I thought about Exodus.

In The Bible, God was always leading His people.

The most familiar example of this is the Exodus story. 

God freed His people from slavery and then led them in the wilderness for forty years.

He gave very specific directions but when Israel deviated from His course, He was always faithful to lead them back. 

He continually spoke, guiding His people, quite literally, to His destination. 

And that is amazingly encouraging to me right now. 

As Laura and I seek God’s directions in this new season, we rest in the knowledge that, even if it seems crazy, He is a worthy and faithful guide. 

We can trust where He leads, even if it takes unexpected turns. 

And, unlike Penny, He will always persist in speaking.

Penny has a power button we can use to shut her up.

God does not.

Made Up Words

My oldest son, Brehm, has always had an interesting relationship with language. 

Some of you may recall a previous post when I mentioned that he takes after his daddy as a “talker”. 

Because of his intense verbosity, he often tries and says things whether he knows how to say them or not. 

This was particularly troublesome when he was learning to talk. 

Some of my friends have had toddlers that sound like they’re speaking a foreign language when they’re learning to talk.

One such friend had a son who, I would swear, spoke perfect, emphatic German. 

Sadly, we were not so lucky.

Instead of sounding like 1940’s Nazi propaganda, our son said real English words. 

The wrong ones. 

Very wrong ones. 

I recall one incident at a playground where my, then 2 year old, son began calling his friend’s name from the top of jungle gym. 

“Nichole”, however, came out sounding like a racial slur and not the intended name. 

I realized that no amount of explaining would make the other parents at the park believe that he merely had a pronunciation problem.

Nor did I think that they would believe that he hadn’t learned that language from me.

Especially since I was wearing my “Bama” t-shirt. 

I scooped him up, shoved him in the car and drove away. 

Apparently, in my mind, looking like I’m abducting a child is better than looking like a racist dad. 

As he’s gotten older, his clarity of speech has improved but he still searches for ways to express himself.

Even it means making up words. 

Which brings me to the other night. 

He had just gotten out of the bathtub and was putting on his pajamas.  I had recently arrived home after being gone for almost a month and so he was being very affectionate.

I’d missed him too so I was happy to be snuggly. 

He asked me to help him put on his pajamas and, after I did, he said, “Dad, you’re very helpful”. 

It was classic Brehm. 

Very matter-of-fact. 

But then he said, “You’re goodful and niceful too.” 

I didn’t correct his grammar. 

In fact, I think that those are two words that should be added to the English lexicon. 

It also showed a shocking amount of linguistic insight on his part.  

If being “helpful” means that you are full of help, then, it stands to reason, that “goodful” would mean “full of goodness”. 

So, because I’m a big geek and love words, I started thinking about other “full” words.

And here’s what I found. 

They either describe their object or they describe the response the object invokes. 

So, for example, words like “beautiful” and “helpful” mean that something is full of beauty or full of help.  Whereas words like “wonderful” and “dreadful” mean that something inspires feelings of wonder or dread. 

Confusing, I know. 

Welcome to my brain. 

And, since I was thinking about “goodful” things, I began to think about whether or not I could use the word “goodful” to describe God.  He is, after all, full of all that is good.

But “goodful” still falls short. 

God IS good. 

That phrase doesn’t just explain his actions toward us (though it does that as well). 

It’s a definition. 

“Good” is defined by God and not the other way around. 

So I’ve been meditating on the goodness of God.

Maybe it’s because we’re all in a season that seems filled with uncertainty that it’s been so meaningful (full of meaning) to rest in the knowledge that God is good. 

Regardless…I’ve found it to be “goodful” and “encouragementful.” as well.