but the thing i loved most about the movie was what it had to say. i usually don’t expect big summer blockbuster superhero films to be message films, but this one definitely was. i found it to be a profound, clear cry out for the gospel by a dark world, a world, as the posters say, without rules.

now, with that said, i’ve been a bit confused at some Christians’ responses to the film. a post from a prominent blog had this to say, “In fact, it comes down to a lie of human idealization being passed off on the public because they’re supposed to be better off thinking the lie. That violates everything I believe. I learned nothing. I was not enriched in any way.”

in praise of this particular post, an even more prominent blog had this to say, “But when we are supposedly deeply moved by something that, at its core, isn’t deeply moving, isn’t redemptive, isn’t part of the grand story, but is just a vast, pretentious, technologically overwhelming retelling of the worst kind of human story, I want to have the backbone to say so.”

both of these posts point to a gigantic problem in Christian circles. that problem is the failure of the church to seriously, honestly, and redemptively engage with what the wider culture is producing and telling us. if i’m allowed to broad-brush a little bit, when it comes to art (visual art, music, film, whatever), Christians would rather have Thomas Kinkade than Jackson Pollock. FFH rather than Bob Dylan. Facing the Giants rather than The Dark Knight. why? because, despite being patently bad and vacuous art, all the former examples are neat, tidy, and safe. they’re comforting. they’re unchallenging. they don’t cause us to face the fact that we live in a deeply complex world. a messy world. a fallen world.

that is not the case with The Dark Knight, or any of the above latter examples. quite appropriately, The Dark Knight is dark. it’s menacing. it’s uncomfortable. it shows us the depth of human depravity by portraying a city living in absolute fear. fear of unpredictable violence. fear of unpredictable death.

but there is hope. a caped crusader keeps watch over the city at night, protecting its citizens from a madman with no moral standards. a madman who has capitalized on the city’s fear and turned the city against itself. this crusader sacrifices everything for the good of others. time and time again he is tested by the madman. tested, seemingly beyond human limits, to break his one rule. to fall and become like the madman himself. but the crusader holds firm. despite all he has sacrificed, despite all that has been taken away from him, he does not fall. he is the true hero. he is the true hope.

but the people place their faith in another. the great white hope for the city is a bright, ambitious district attorney. a virtuous man who promises to rid the city of violence, restoring peace and tranquility to its streets. however, he too faces loss and testing. but unlike the caped crusader, this district attorney, the one the people have put their trust, faith, and hope in, falls. he becomes a madman himself. a cold murderer with no other conscience than the arbitrary flip of a coin. he represents the stark reality of what happens when we place our faith in another mere human. when we don’t look outside of ourselves to something bigger.

and that’s what Batman represents. Batman is bigger than humanity. he is outside humanity. he is the only one that can bring true peace, true hope to Gotham City. but the people will not recognize their need of him. instead they look to elsewhere for their salvation. how true is this of all of us? how many other places do we look, whether to entertainment, money, dare i say…politicians…to provide for us the hope and comfort that we so deeply long for? all the while looking past the one thing that can provide us sure hope, sure peace, sure salvation: faith in Christ.

and so Batman is a sort of Christ-figure for the city of Gotham. or, you could say that Christ is a sort of “dark knight” in this fallen world. the people do not recognize their need for him, and so they turn elsewhere for their hope. when the one they’ve placed their hope in fails and proves himself to be just another sinner in need of grace, Batman takes upon himself the sins of the young district attorney. why? because, as Commissioner Gordon says, “he can take it.” that is his role. he will be reviled, hunted, scorned, murdered in the hearts of all the citizens of Gotham until they recognize how deeply they need him. how hopeless their situation is without him. until they come to a point where they realize that it was him all along who was protecting them. who was taking away the darkness. and in that day they will repent of their hatred toward him and embrace him as the only one that can bring them true peace and true hope.

i said at the beginning that the film wasn’t a perfect one. there is a great monologue at the end by Commissioner Gordon that i absolutely love. however, it’s ever so slightly off. Gordon says of Batman, “he’s the hero we deserve, but not the hero we need right now.” i say “off,” because Batman is the hero that Gotham needs, though they don’t know it. the hero they deserve, that all of us deserve, is Harvey Dent, the fallen district attorney. we don’t deserve Batman. we don’t deserve the hope, the grace, the redemption that Batman represents to “a world without rules.” yet it is freely, unconditionally offered to us. however, we remain blind to it until our eyes are opened and we see past the felt needs and false hopes of anti-Batmans and anti-Christs, only to see the true need of God’s grace and mercy and salvation, the only means of true hope and peace in this world.

to “learn nothing,” to not be “enriched in any way,” to see The Dark Knight as unmoving and non-redemptive, is a failure to deeply engage with one of the loudest cries for the gospel that hollywood has produced.

perhaps there is no better return to blogging than an experience that really gets your juices flowing, for good or bad. this definitely happened with me as i sat in the theater watching the latest film adaptation of C.S. Lewis’s masterpiece, The Chronicles of Narnia. the film in question is the second installment of the franchise and is based on the book Prince Caspian (PC hereafter).

let me start by saying that PC the book is my least favorite of the Narnia series. i can’t exactly pinpoint why, i just don’t enjoy it near as much as i do the other six books. that’s not to say, however, that there aren’t some really great moments in the book, and of course it is here that we first meet my favorite character in the series, Reepicheep. so because it’s my least favorite, if there was any film where much could be changed without my really caring, it would be PC. this of course being under the assumption that an attempt would be made to preserve the underlying message and intent of the author in such a film.

sadly, however, what was done by the filmmakers to this book is, frankly, atrocious. the narrative of the film is largely unrecognizable to someone familiar with the book. so much has been changed, so much has been added, and the message and intent has been completely removed that it’s a wonder that this film can even be called “Prince Caspian.”

putting what was done to the actual story aside for a moment, the film, as a piece of art, is also horrific. the film is basically a Michael Bay version of PC (and i say that as a fan of Michael Bay films) where cheap thrills and violence are the order of the day, and the story is a secondary matter, almost an afterthought. the effects in the film, though better than those of the previous film, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe are not very well done and the film seems to be a pretty poor, cheap ripoff of the Lord of the Rings films, especially in the first ten to twenty minutes of the film.

with the exception of a few bright spots, the actor who plays King Miraz in particular, the acting is pretty painful. two of the children, Lucy and Edmund, are alright, but Susan and Peter are just awful. much of the dialogue is awkward and stilted and there just doesn’t seem to be much chemistry between them. it almost appears as if they don’t want to be there. Liam Neeson, much more in this film, is unconvincing as Aslan (more stilted dialogue here), and perhaps the biggest disappointment of all was the noble mouse Reepicheep. i was skeptical on Eddie Izzard providing the voice, and for me it just didn’t work at all. of course this might of had to do with more stilted dialogue. i mean it literally sounded to me that when Reepicheep spoke there was someone pushing play on a tape recorder and then pushing stop when the line was finished. that’s how awkward and disjointed the dialogue was.

so as a piece of art on its own, the film, while mildly entertaining, is just not very good.

many people around the web have commented on and detailed the points at which the film strays from the book, so i won’t take the time to do so here. if you want to know, it’s not that hard to find. the changes, as i said before, are so numerous that it’s a wonder that this film can even be called Prince Caspian. it’s also a wonder that Douglas Gresham, Lewis’s step-son, allowed such a raping (in my opinion) of this story to take place.

i actually wasn’t that surprised at the changes in themselves, but i thought enough of a vestige of the book and the author’s intent would remain untouched. however, if the filmmakers couldn’t get the conversation in the Beavers’ house right in the first film, i don’t know why i expected the more profound parts of this book to be handled with care and delivered faithfully (how you can mess up that great line of Aslan’s, “every year you grow, you will find me bigger” is just beyond me; “as you grow, so do i,” the line in the film, means nothing even in the same vain as what Lewis intended. ugh!)

i will mention one specific change, however, that i actually thought was an interesting and good one. many people are incensed at the invented romance between Susan and Caspian that the film portrays, saying that Lewis would never have approved of such a change. they may be right, but i think the change is actually in keeping with what Lewis tells us of Susan’s later life. the kiss she plants on Caspian, that so many are outraged over, shows the beginning of Susan’s pursuit of worldly things. in The Last Battle we are told that Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia and that all she cares about are “nylons, lipstick, and invitations.” so concerned with becoming an adult, Susan rejects the childlike wonder of Narnia in pursuit vain worldliness. her romantic interest and bold kiss in the film gives us an idea of where Susan is going, especially since this will be the last we see of her (assuming the filmmakers remain mostly true to the story for the remainder of the films, something that seems much more in doubt after this latest chapter). so i actually like that change and think it suits Lewis’s intent pretty well.

overall, though, i really did not like this film and i would have no problem with it being the last adaptation from the Narnia books. i shudder to think what the filmmakers will do with The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and The Last Battle.

however, having finished the second book, i am less enthusiastic about the story as a whole. where The Golden Compass is fresh and unpredictable, The Subtle Knife suffers from many bouts of sluggishness and complete predictability. most of the way through the book it felt as if reading this part of the story was merely a means to an end, a necessary slow point that has to set up what’s to come in final book. perhaps that’s why this second part of the story is the shortest of the three? whatever the reason, The Subtle Knife was not nearly as enjoyable as The Golden Compass.

(if you don’t want to be spoiled, read no further)

this book, naturally, picks up where the first one left off and introduces a new character straight away. young Will, a murderer on the run, finds an open window into another world and soon runs into Lyra who has found herself in the same “another world” while trying to catch up with her father, Lord Asriel. the two children are virtually inseparable from that point on and find themselves, as children are wont to do, in a number of precarious situations and adventures. the point of this part of the story does not come clear until a little over halfway through the book, where the children are charged with the task of recovering a mysterious knife in exchange for Lyra’s stolen alethiometer. come to find out, this “subtle knife,” as it’s called is the instrument responsible for releasing Dust (which, if you’re unfamiliar with its significance to the story, you can read the post mentioned above on The Golden Compass), and is pretty much the sharpest two-edged blade in all the untold numbers of universes of Pullman’s story. this knife has the ability to cut windows leading from one world to another and even possesses the power, at least in theory, to be the one instrument that can destroy the Authority, or God.

and that’s…..it. it takes nearly 250 pages for that to be accomplished, but, again, we don’t even find out about the knife until over halfway through those 250 pages. there’s action and intrigue in the book, to be sure, but it’s just not very compelling. characters are introduced and then forgotten about, the story meanders and drags, a lot of the dialogue, particularly in regards to the church, is extremely forced, and, as i said earlier, pretty much everything that happens is painfully predictable.

i was also surprised that there wasn’t much that furthered Pullman’s atheist agenda in this book. there was some stuff to be sure, but most of it was just rehashing what was said in the first book. it’s definitely becoming more and more clear that Pullman’s main contention with Christianity is his perceived suppression of what is good and enjoyable. one of Pullman’s characters, early in the book, states, “it’s tried to suppress and control every natural impulse….That is what the Church does, and every church is the same: control, destroy, obliterate every good feeling” (336). along the same lines, later in the book, the same character goes on a similar rant, this time directed at God, or the Authority, in which she claims that he set up this religion as a means “to destroy the joys and truthfulness of life” (496).

i find these two statements both fascinating and ridiculous at the same time. fascinating because i’m always interested in the self-made reasons that people use to justify their atheism. ridiculous because this argument makes no rational or logical (paramounts of atheism) sense whatsoever. it must be kept in mind that Pullman is actually attacking Christianity in the real world through these fictional stories. so then it is reasonable to transfer the arguments of his characters to the author.

so, recapping, Pullman’s entire argument against the Christian God, so far, has been that God is a big meanie who tells people not to do the things that seem “natural” and “good” and “joyful” to them. putting aside the complete untruth of this for the time being, one’s first question should be, “well where does the definition of what is ‘good,’ etc. come from? what is the standard of such?” for the atheist, authority begins and ends with an individual’s mind. “natural impulses,” as Pullman describes them in his book, are good, and right, and true, and must be pursued. but this makes no sense, does it? what if i had a “natural impulse” to murder Philip Pullman? must i act on that? God and Christianity tell me that such actions and feelings are wrong and sinful, so, following Pullman’s argument, those actions must be good and joyful! Pullman may then say that those actions are not “natural impulses,” but he would be unable to prove such a statement, especially when it is the individual’s mind that becomes one’s ultimate authority. of course this devolves into abject relativism, and the practical result would end in utter chaos.

there are other things that could be said about a few other anti-Christian statements in this book, but it seems to me that it would be a waste of time to do so. Pullman’s arguments are not well-made and most of them are simply straw men that are easily blown over and dismissed. it’s always amusing to me when atheists get angry about Christians trying to force their beliefs on others, when that’s exactly what Pullman is attempting to achieve in this series of books. less funny is the fact that he is attempting to do so under the guise of children’s books. but that’s a different post for a different day.

in addition to later raising a pint, i am celebrating by watching the three extended editions of The Lord of the Rings films in succession (something i’ve never done before and am excited about) as well as breaking in the new pipe that i got for Christmas.

“the professor!”

now, there are several reasons that i loved this film. first, it’s just funny. i mean really hilarious. the conversations, especially between Juno (played by Ellen Page) and her best friend Leah (played by Olivia Thirlby), are brilliantly written and never seem forced or contrived. when the two girls are together they pretty much only talk in slang, which can be hard to keep up with but is terribly funny if you can. the word choice is amazing and it’s interesting that they can use certain words to convey meaning that could have nothing to do with the actual meaning of the word they use. that’s probably confusing, and i can’t remember any specific examples, so you’ll just have to see the film to see what i mean. but it’s brilliant. i also found it very refreshing that the majority of the humor in this movie is in the dialogue. frankly, i’m a little burnt out on comedies that are nothing but situational or gag humor. i want something witty, something intelligent. and Juno definitely fits that bill.

a second reason i loved this film is the relationships of the characters. i think one thing that hollywood often fails to convey is the reality of relationships. there are a number of reasons for this, of course, and some of them are justified, but one thing this film does really will is to portray the messiness and complexity of relationships. every relationship in this film is flawed, even the one between Juno and Leah. yet all the characters seem to be conscious of this and do what they can to work through their various issues. they don’t do so perfectly, of course, but through the trouble and pain comes love and redemption. and i think this film does a very good job at showing that.

a third reason i loved this film is what it says about life. now let me be perfectly clear in saying that i don’t think this film was in any way intended to be an “anti-abortion” film, nor do i think it was intended to make any kind of political statement whatsoever. it may, but if so then i am completely unaware of it. nevertheless, i think this film is a wonderful testament to the miracle of life and pregnancy. as i mentioned earlier, Juno does contemplate having an abortion. like one of Job’s friends, perhaps, Leah makes the calls for her and sets up the appointments, trying as hard as she can to help Juno with the situation in the way that she thinks best. but when Juno gets to the abortion clinic she meets a classmate, a stereotypical anti-abortion Christian, protesting the abortion clinic with a picket sign and chanting “all babies want to get borned.” the “Christian” is made to look like a fool, but what she tells Juno, that her baby has fingernails, completely changes Juno’s attitude towards what she is about to do. it’s through watching the nervous, unsettled fingernails of the other “clients” in the clinic that cause her to run out and choose adoption, and she never wastes an opportunity to tell everyone around her that her baby has fingernails. in her own quirky way, Juno comes to realize the wonder that is growing inside of her. and even though she refers to the baby as “this thing” or to her pregnancy as “a fat suit i can’t take off,” even though not having an abortion will bring scorn upon her from classmates and parents, she refuses to do the easy thing and to respect the life that is growing inside of her. it’s beautiful.

there are other things i loved about this film. the soundtrack is really great, the casting is perfect, Dwight has a cameo (i really wish he had more scenes), etc., etc. it’s just a completely brilliant film. this film has definitely aided in changing my attitude towards indie films. i’ve seen several of them lately (Once and Waitress being the best of the lot), which is unusual for me. i think i’ve been kind of leery of indie films because of the people that are really into them. i saw it as just another thing to be a snob about, and saw some that weren’t particularly great that just solidified my view. but that view has completely changed now. i’m not going to be one that ONLY watches indie films from now on, i love popcorn blockbusters too much to do that, but i definitely won’t be as suspicious toward them as i was little more than a month ago. like with Juno, in the best ones there’s a profound realism, and that’s something i’ve been looking for in film for a long time.

i loved this book. if you’re unfamiliar with the book or the film, this is the story of a young girl named Lyra. kind of a fitting name, actually, as Lyra is also a liar. a big one, at that. but she does know when she needs to be completely truthful and would probably say that she only lies when it’s absolutely necessary. Lyra has an uncle, or someone she believes to be her uncle, named Lord Asriel who also happens to be a world famous explorer. in this sort of alternate universe from our own, Lord Asriel, while exploring the far reaches of the North and trying to discover the truth behind Dust (more on that in a second), is taken capture and imprisoned by Gobblers, who also happen to be stealing children and performing experiments on them. little by little, Lyra learns what is going on and she sets out to help the stolen children and to free her uncle. aiding her in her task are her daemon (again, more on this in a second), an exiled armored bear, and a an alethiometer, a small golden truth-telling device that much resembles a compass, thus the title of the book.

i should say here that if you have not yet read the book or seen the movie and do not want to be spoiled, then you should probably read no further. so proceed at your own risk.

of course there is widespread controversy regarding this book, and this controversy has been much publicized in the media and throughout the internet. however the controversy is not like the controversy surrounding the Harry Potter books, which is to say that the controversy is not unfounded nor based on ignorance or complete misunderstanding. the controversy surrounding this book, the blockbuster film, and the His Dark Materials trilogy is completely founded and real. the author, Philip Pullman, has stated that his purpose in these books is to create an anti-Narnia narrative as well as “killing God” (the source of the original quote) by the end of the series.

whether he manages to do that is yet to be seen by me, but it is definitely clear in The Golden Compass that Pullman is no friend of Christianity. a self-proclaimed agnostic, which, in my opinion, is an entirely impossible position to hold, Pullman sets up the Christian Church as the grand enemy of the story, and anyone related to or working for the Church is evil. i think it’s interesting that Pullman seems to have all of Christianity in view. whereas The Da Vinci Code was more of a specific assault on Romanism, Pullman craftily combines Romanism and Protestantism in his alternate universe, describing “Pope John Calvin” (the very thought of which would surely cause Calvin to spin wildly in his grave) has having moved the Papacy to Geneva, only to later abolish the Papacy in order to set up the Magisterium, a sort of arch-presbytery, to rule over the one Church.

from my readings on this book and the controversy that surrounds it, this book basically represents “Philip-Pullman-the-atheist-light,” meaning that the major attacks against the church and Christianity are not found until the other two books. but the book in present view does have some significant presuppositions that it sets up for the way the rest of the series will go. now, again, i haven’t read the other two books, so what follows is not a fully developed treatise by any means. it merely represents my initial thoughts as i begin to grapple with what Pullman is doing and saying.

these presuppositions largely center around the mysterious “Dust” that was mentioned earlier. it’s revealed at one point that Dust is believed by the Church and the Magisterium to be the source of Original Sin. this Dust is very prevalent in adults, but not in children, and “settles” on humans during the time of puberty. it’s also at this point that a person’s daemon becomes fixed. this idea of a person’s daemon is quite complex, so for the sake of brevity i will only say that the daemon is a sort of external soul that is spiritually fixed to the human being. the person’s “soul” cannot be separated from the human by any natural means and when one dies they both die. these daemon-souls are in animal forms and can change at will when one is a child, but they become fixed when one reaches the age of puberty. the final form that a daemon-soul takes says a lot about who the person is and will become (i.e. servants always have a dog daemon-soul).

but what’s interesting about all of this is Pullman’s idea that Original Sin enters a person’s life when they reach the age of puberty. even more interesting is his idea that humans become accountable for Original Sin when they reach sexual awareness, for this is the only conclusion that can be taken away from Pullman’s constant references to puberty, as well as his retelling and reframing of Genesis 3 in which he emphasizes Adam and Eve’s coming aware of their nakedness and being ashamed because of it, further signified by their daemons becoming fixed. of this, Lord Asriel states, “that was how sin came into the world, sin and shame and death. it came the moment their daemons became fixed” (274). he goes on to say that the discovery that Dust settles on children around the age of puberty is “physical proof that something happened when innocence changed into experience” (274), or physical proof that one became accountable for Original Sin when one becomes sexually aware through puberty, as it was with our first parents. because of this new discovery, and because of their fear of Dust, the Church and Magisterium believe they can get rid of the effects of Original Sin and Dust by cutting away children’s daemons before they become their fixed states when the Dust settles. again, Lord Asriel states, “perhaps if the daemon were separated from the body, we might never be subject to Dust–to original sin” (275).

i find this fundamental misunderstanding of the doctrine of original sin to be extremely fascinating. especially in light of the character and personality that Pullman gives his Lyra. there are constant references in the book to the “innocence” of children, but Lyra is anything but innocent. she lies constantly, she’s incorrigible, she has fits of anger, her hijinks endanger others, and the list could go on. Lyra is a perfect testament to the fact that original sin is present with humans from birth and does not “settle” on us when we go through the stage of puberty, as if there were a sort of arbitrary “age of accountability” where we are no longer considered “innocent,” but become responsible for our actions and our sin.

so, at the very least, it seems that Pullman’s main quarrel with the Christian Church is its repression of human sexuality. “sin” came into the world when Adam and Eve became sexually aware. humans become responsible for original sin when they become sexually aware through puberty. the Church is so afraid of Dust, that it resorts to torturing and experimenting on children to find a way to escape the settling of Dust, to escape the process of puberty and becoming sexually aware (Pullman even has his characters say that the precedent the Church uses to justify these “cutting” experiments is castration!).

but what if there were another way? what if there was a way to remove Dust, rather than removing the effects of Dust? Lord Asriel says later, “somewhere out there is the origin of all the Dust, all the death, the sin, the misery, the destructiveness in the world. human beings can’t see anything without wanting to destroy it, Lyra. that’s original sin. and i’m going to destroy it. death is going to die” (277). since Pullman has stated, “my books are about killing God,” i’m going to assume that Lord Asriel’s statement is a declaration of war against God. in essence, God is being blamed for sin, death, Dust, and the Church, and he must be destroyed.

i think i’ll reserve further comment on this until i read the other two books, but i will say that it’s interesting that “salvation,” the defeat of death and sin, is taken up by a rational scientist, for this is the only thing the atheist can do. except, unlike a fantasy story, God cannot physically be destroyed. he can only be “destroyed” in the heart and mind, but one is still left with the problem of sin and death. but what if sin and death aren’t all that bad? what if Lyra turns out to be a prophetess, and what if Dust, original sin, sexual awareness, death, and everything that the Church and Lord Asriel are afraid of should not be feared at all?

of course, for the Christian, these things are not to be feared at all. Jesus has defeated sin and death. sexual awareness is good and holy within its proper context, but what is the atheist’s response? Lyra says, “if they all think Dust is bad, it must be good…yeah! what if it’s really good…[what] if Dust were a good thing…[what] if it were to be sought and welcomed and cherished…” (292). what if what the church says and forces upon people as sin and bad, really wasn’t sin at all? what if we realized that there is no God and we are accountable to no one? what if sexuality and sexual expression, regardless of the context, is always good and welcomed? what if everything we have been told all our lives is bad was actually good for us and should be pursued and “cherished?” this a slippery slope to abject relativism and unbridled licentiousness. it will be very interesting to see where Pullman goes with this.

so again, the book, as a piece of art, was very good. it’s an excellent story so far. however the moral system and understanding and portrayal of Christianity are deeply disturbing and i do not have a very good feeling about where the story is going to go from here.

as far as the details go:

The two “Hobbit” films – “The Hobbit” and its sequel – are scheduled to be shot simultaneously, with pre-production beginning as soon as possible. Principal photography is tentatively set for a 2009 start, with the intention of “The Hobbit” release slated for 2010 and its sequel the following year, in 2011.

2010 can’t get here soon enough!!!

UPDATE: The Hobbit: The Official Movie Blog has been launched.

Rather than seeing new media reports as conspiracies to rail against, why not see them as opportunities to discuss faith with friends and neighbors who will find them intriguing? Only we mustn’t do so with an angry or dismissive tone. Rather, we ought to respectfully explain the historic Christian view. Becoming equipped for such discussions may require seminars organized by local churches. Imagine churches working together to help believers contend for the truth in their communities.

of course, as he suggests, being able to explain the historic Christian view takes a concerted effort to become educated, to which he charges church leaders to undertake, but given today’s culture this is something that must be a priority, especially if the church is to continue to carry forth the Great Commission, not only to the far reaches of the earth, but to our immediate communities and cultural contexts. and it’s the Great Commission that i think is the heart of the matter.

Bock’s article is great and i highly recommend reading it. however, i think that while Bock does an excellent job with covering the “how” in getting to the point where Christians, lay and leader, can engage these things, i think he fails to rightly convey the “why” in getting to the point where Christians can intelligently respond. now that may be an unfair charge since his main intent was probably to focus on the “how”, but i’m afraid that a cursory reading of the article could leave people thinking that we need to be educated for education’s sake and to be able to engage the issues of the day intelligently so that we can put those nasty pagans in their place.

but if that’s what one comes away from the article thinking, then the point has been missed. if the motive of engaging the culture is simply to win arguments and appear intelligent, then this is a quick road to engagement becoming heated, tense, and hurtful. in this situation, the engagement, intellectual and informed though it may be, is no better than what is too often the current Christian reaction, namely holing ourselves up and cursing the darkness.

rather, Christians should pursue this education and these engagements of the culture, first, out of love for God, and, second, out of love for one’s neighbor. not for the purpose of winning arguments, but for the purpose of winning hearts. not in the confidence of one’s own knowledge and learning, but in the confidence that God, through his Holy Spirit, is at work in and around them, and it is he alone that opens the mind to discern spiritual things (1 Corinthians 2).

so it’s ok to read The Da Vinci Code or see the movie. it’s ok to read His Dark Materials or see The Golden Compass. it’s ok to watch National Geographic documentaries about tombs and lost gospels, and no one is going to hell for doing any of this. rather, Christians will be living up to their calling to be light in the midst of a dark and twisted generation. so, as Bock concludes his article:

the next time you hear an earth-shattering announcement about Jesus from the media [or hear about the next bestseller that seeks to undermine the Christian faith], don’t get angry. Rather, take three deep breaths, sit down with your Starbucks coffee, and…prepare yourself for the opportunities it presents.