The Soloist

Last night, I watched 'The Soloist' with Roberty Downey, Jr. and Jamie Foxx. I know this movie has been out for a while, but give me a break; I am not only making up for a year and a half of seminary madness--remember I was in the middle of literal nowhere Mongolia for a couple of years before that. So, The Soloist.

The Soloist is a homeless man: Nathaniel Anthony Ayres, Jr. (Foxx). Steve Lopez (Downey) first stumbles across him near downtown Los Angeles in a plaza containing a statue of Beethoven. Nathaniel is playing a violin with only two strings; but Lopez is intrigued because Nathaniel is creating beautiful music even without the other two strings. Lopez, a columnist for the L.A. Times, starts investigating the mysterious Ayres in what becomes a search not only for Ayres' history but a painfully personal and transformative quest for Lopez.

Nathaniel Anthony Ayres, Jr., you see, went to Julliard. But he is also mentally ill; the same voices that drove him away from Julliard are the same ones that drive him away from trust, away from human companionship, away from 'stability.' Lopez realizes that his desire to 'help' Nathaniel is both noble and selfish--Nathaniel has become one of the most popular subjects of his column, after all. At one point, Nathaniel even calls Lopez his 'god' and tells Lopez that he loves him. But Lopez quickly realizes that he does not want to be the one loved; because he knows that his own imperfections will eventually let Nathaniel down. He does not want to bear the responsibility of it all.

Eventually, that very thing does happen. Lopez, in trying to 'help' Nathaniel's medical condition, enrages him so much that he threatens to kill Lopez if he ever sees him again.

But Lopez cannot forget Nathaniel; he cannot forget the way that music makes him come alive; he cannot forget the beauty that Nathaniel is capable of creating. So, in a step of extraordinary kindness, Lopez flies Nathaniel's sister to L.A., where she sees Nathaniel for the first time in many years. At their meeting, Nathaniel sees Lopez and apologizes for the ugly things he had said at their previous encounter.

Lopez insists that he wants to be Mr. Ayres' friend; "You don't have to call me that," says Ayres.

"I should have called you that all along."

Then Lopez, in a dramatic picture of transformed and transformative grace, sticks out his hand: "Mr. Ayres, I am honored to be your friend."

Grace. It's not just a one-time, all-or-nothing deal. Grace is persistent. It hounds us, surrounds us, pursues us. And it is true that grace shines more brilliantly in the midst of failure--but it is equally true that a daily recognition and grasping of the grace offered to us in every situation will bind the cords of our personhood to the heart of the One full of grace and truth: Jesus.