Why is it so easy to become downhearted?
I think this happens to me because I too easily become a 'do-er' and not a 'be-er.'
Doing is great, of course. We were made to do, to create, to work, to make. But we were also made to be--in Him.
"In" is actually one of the most difficult words for speakers of foreign languages to understand, because in English, "in" holds several shades of meaning. In can mean physically inside or geographically near ("I'm inside the house," or "I'm in Atlanta.").
It can also take on a metaphysical, emotional or spiritual meaning. We say "She's in love with him" and "They're in a lot of trouble." It carries more of an abstract, within-the-realm-of significance.
Funny, isn't it? Jesus has a realm, and it happens to be the universe and everything else that may or may not (yet) exist. And it is He Himself. Jesus has a way that He wants things to be in His realm, and that Way is His Kingdom, the Way of all things made new, the Way of Redemption.
No wonder He tells me to be in Him, within the realm of who He is and what His way signifies (Redemption). When I am doing too much, I cannot see His realm--or live within it--very well at all, so of course discouragement comes with a Capital D.
So today, and hopefully tomorrow, I will focus more on being and less on doing. That is the "in" more complex than I can comprehend and yet so simple a little girl could understand it.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Tree of Life: Reviewed
The range of responses to the film Tree of Life have been varied. Garance Franke-Ruta (senior editor for politics at The Atlantic) reported that after a viewing of the movie in Washington, D.C., the "entire row was like YES! Is it over? Thank God it is finally over. Then burst out laughing." (via Twitter) New York Times reporters Manohla Dargis and A.O. Scott recently wrote a piece entitled "In Defense of the Slow and the Boring," in which Tree of Life was given as a prime example. My husband just plain didn't like it.
But, oh my. Tree of Life is a priceless treasure given to the human soul. Let me here offer an attempt at an explanation. My thoughts on the movie--Terence Mallick's Cannes-honored masterpiece--follow two main threads.
I have heard stories of the world's creation my entire life. God created the world and the universe and now it all exists, I was told. And I firmly believe that He did, and that it does--but my imagination had never yet tried to plummet the sheer awesomeness that those first moments, days and years must have been. Tree of Life changed that. My senses were overwhelmed with the colors and shapes and music and light that told the story of those moments. My whole self knew that even if it wasn't an exact representation of creation's history, it was at the very least an almost-tangible re-telling of what might have been. There was no speaking--no words were necessary. The sight of worlds colliding and oceans rushing and plants and animals bursting into life was enough and more than enough. The sounds of violins, pianos, cellos, trumpets, drums, and human voices worked together to show the symphony that is the beginning of existence as we know it. One specific scene caused me great longing for what was at the beginnings of time was a scene involving dinosaurs--an expected predator does not kill what we expect to be his prey, but instead walks away and lets the obviously weaker one live. What if the world still revolved around grace like that?
But what does all of this have to do with the story of the 1950s Texas family, the O'Briens? The connection and its translucence is why Tree of Life won't appeal to a wide audience--and also what makes it so valuable. The O'Briens have received news that a beloved son has unexpectedly passed away (we are never told the circumstances surrounding his death). Immediately, the mother begins to ask God the question that every mother in her situation would ask: Why? As she asks within herself, we are then swept into the grandeur of the creation scenes. The vision is so utterly immense that it *almost* swallows her question. But not quite. (I won't give more details for those of you who actually want to go see it for yourselves.) It does, however, certainly put her question into perspective.
This connection is not the other thread I wish to unravel, however. The other is, instead, the mother herself (played by Jessica Chastain). Mrs. O'Brien, as portrayed by Malick, is the woman I hope to be. She sees the beauty in each moment and gives all of herself to whatever and whoever is in front of her. Time does not dominate her existence; grace does. She plays hard, she works hard, she loves hard. The every day triumphs and challenges of being a mother and a wife--she takes them all in stride and is not dominated by anything except the sheer pleasure of existence. Plain is never plain, it is an opportunity for glorious discovery and joy. Even in the face of her beloved son's death, Mrs. O'Brien does not allow bitterness to take over. Grief? Yes, she grieves. She grieves deep and she grieves long. But in the sanctuary of creation, she understands that the purpose of it all--her life, her son's life, his death, her suffering--is literally swallowed up by Life. The genius of Malick's film is that the medium of film itself accomplishes what screenwriter's can only hope that words communicate. Mrs. O'Brien is light--and she is visibly surrounded by light at all times. Her life is a song, and her beauty is accompanied by the most exquisite symphonies.
So go see Tree of Life. You may not like it. Or it may move you as it did me: eternally.
But, oh my. Tree of Life is a priceless treasure given to the human soul. Let me here offer an attempt at an explanation. My thoughts on the movie--Terence Mallick's Cannes-honored masterpiece--follow two main threads.
I have heard stories of the world's creation my entire life. God created the world and the universe and now it all exists, I was told. And I firmly believe that He did, and that it does--but my imagination had never yet tried to plummet the sheer awesomeness that those first moments, days and years must have been. Tree of Life changed that. My senses were overwhelmed with the colors and shapes and music and light that told the story of those moments. My whole self knew that even if it wasn't an exact representation of creation's history, it was at the very least an almost-tangible re-telling of what might have been. There was no speaking--no words were necessary. The sight of worlds colliding and oceans rushing and plants and animals bursting into life was enough and more than enough. The sounds of violins, pianos, cellos, trumpets, drums, and human voices worked together to show the symphony that is the beginning of existence as we know it. One specific scene caused me great longing for what was at the beginnings of time was a scene involving dinosaurs--an expected predator does not kill what we expect to be his prey, but instead walks away and lets the obviously weaker one live. What if the world still revolved around grace like that?
But what does all of this have to do with the story of the 1950s Texas family, the O'Briens? The connection and its translucence is why Tree of Life won't appeal to a wide audience--and also what makes it so valuable. The O'Briens have received news that a beloved son has unexpectedly passed away (we are never told the circumstances surrounding his death). Immediately, the mother begins to ask God the question that every mother in her situation would ask: Why? As she asks within herself, we are then swept into the grandeur of the creation scenes. The vision is so utterly immense that it *almost* swallows her question. But not quite. (I won't give more details for those of you who actually want to go see it for yourselves.) It does, however, certainly put her question into perspective.
This connection is not the other thread I wish to unravel, however. The other is, instead, the mother herself (played by Jessica Chastain). Mrs. O'Brien, as portrayed by Malick, is the woman I hope to be. She sees the beauty in each moment and gives all of herself to whatever and whoever is in front of her. Time does not dominate her existence; grace does. She plays hard, she works hard, she loves hard. The every day triumphs and challenges of being a mother and a wife--she takes them all in stride and is not dominated by anything except the sheer pleasure of existence. Plain is never plain, it is an opportunity for glorious discovery and joy. Even in the face of her beloved son's death, Mrs. O'Brien does not allow bitterness to take over. Grief? Yes, she grieves. She grieves deep and she grieves long. But in the sanctuary of creation, she understands that the purpose of it all--her life, her son's life, his death, her suffering--is literally swallowed up by Life. The genius of Malick's film is that the medium of film itself accomplishes what screenwriter's can only hope that words communicate. Mrs. O'Brien is light--and she is visibly surrounded by light at all times. Her life is a song, and her beauty is accompanied by the most exquisite symphonies.
So go see Tree of Life. You may not like it. Or it may move you as it did me: eternally.
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