The Ten Worst Movies of 2019

Let me go on record as saying 2019 was one of the best years of movies we’ve had in my lifetime. The sheer quantity of excellent films has been overwhelming. However, even in a year as filled to the brim with quality as 2019, a few turds always sneak their way in there.

So, here are the worst movies I’ve seen in 2019. And keep your eyes peeled next week when I publish my favorites of the year.

Keep in mind, there was plenty of potentially bad movies released this year I didn’t see. I try to make it a point to see a few movies in any given year that don’t have a stellar Rotten Tomatoes score, but hopefully the number of good movies I see in a year will always outnumber the bad.

Here are a couple dishonorable mentions:

Dumbo

Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil, and Vile

Five Feet Apart

Fractured

Midway

10. The Art of Racing in the Rain. 2/5

Coming in last place on the only list you want to be last place in, we have the Milo Ventimiglia race car melodrama. Not everything here is a travesty. The Art of Racing in the Rain is too inoffensive to be vile, but too inconsequential to be remembered. Milo Ventimiglia and Amanda Seyfried do their best to elevate the script, but there’s only so much you can do with a script that would feel clunky on the Hallmark Channel.

9. Jexi. 2/5

Adam Devine and Alexandra Shipp deliver charming performances, and the movie isn’t void of a couple laughs. But as far as quality goes, Jexi feels like it was written and thrown together by some frat boys who think making movies is easier than playing football.

8. The Goldfinch. 2/5

What little merit this movie has is because of the fine work by its outstanding cast, especially Oaks Fegly, Finn Wolfhard, and Luke Wilson (and those three really did elevate the movie for me), and the beautiful cinematography from the always great Roger Deakins. Other than that, the film aimlessly wonders from moment to moment, never really justifying its existence, making the director seem totally void of vision. Add to it a lifeless script, and one is left wondering if The Goldfinch is ultimately an unadaptable book. All in all, it is a boring, depressing, well-acted mess.

7. Angel Has Fallen. 1.5/5

The reason this isn’t lower on my list is because I watched it with my Gammy, and she stans Gerard Butler. But as a stand-alone picture, Angel Has Fallen is an utterly un-inspired, cynical cash-grab. 

6. Wounds. 1.5/5

This a colossal disappointment because there is so much potential here. Armie Hammer, Dakota Johnson, and Zazie Beats are all bringing their A-Game, and Director Babak Anvari establishes excellent atmosphere, chilling visuals, and a gripping set up. But after it sets you up, it does nothing but let you down. Wounds is an underdeveloped attempt at psychological horror that isn’t disappointing because of a lack of talent, but because Babak’s approach can only be described as either lazy or patronizing.

5. Countdown. 1.5/5

Interesting premise. Too bad this is one of the laziest and messiest horror films I’ve seen in a while.

4. In Tall Grass. 1.5/5

Stephen King gets more trash adaptations than he does good ones. In Tall Grass is no exception. Subpar dialogue and a plot too thin to support a feature length movie bog down some decent performances. The film is as aimless as the characters seem trying to get out of the tall grass.

3. The Dirt. 1/5

A movie about Motely Crew made by Motely Crew, relishes in how fun their Jack-Ass lifestyles were, but then tries to tell the audience how sorry and wrong they are for their reckless behavior. The Dirt is surface level, hypocritical trash with very little redeeming qualities to it.

2. Rambo: Last Blood. 0.5/5

I knew going into this that I was not the target audience. My expectations were adjusted. But even with all that in mind, I was shocked by how much I hated this movie. It is wildly offensive, stupid, repugnant, trash. 

1.     Cats. 0.5/5

Even after the trailer dropped and we that saw the visuals were the stuff of nightmares, I tried to keep an open mind. Then I saw the reviews, and my morbid curiosity was peaked. Imagine every bad thing you’ve heard about this movie... it’s worse than that. It felt like being in time out, just miserably stuck in time. It’s two hours of plotless, horny, twitchy, horrific looking cat/human hybrids. The walk back to my car in the cold rain without a jacket was filled with joy because at least I wasn’t watching Cats anymore. I don’t know what I did to deserve such ill-treatment from director Tom Hooper. I hated it.

Toy Story 4 and the End of Meaning

"Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how'."

~Viktor Frankl

When Toy Story 4 was announced the question on everyone’s mind was, “will this ruin one of the greatest film trilogies of all time?” After all, the original trilogy managed to accomplish the nearly impossible feat of making three perfect entries in the franchise. So, when I saw Toy Story 4, my guard was up. This is my childhood, after all. 

Upon my first viewing of Toy Story 4 I was left with a sinking, hollow feeling. It was technically astounding, featuring the new peak of computer-generated animation. But, thematically, I felt very little. The previous entry in the saga came out during my senior year of high school, and I was left in a puddle of tears after Woody wistfully said, “So-long, cowboy.” It was my right of passage into adulthood, the animated reminder that high school and adolescents were over, and a new season of adulthood laid before me. And it would require a willingness in me to set aside some of my childish things. Even stepping outside of the Toy Story universe, the last Pixar movie I watched, Coco, caused an embarrassing amount of liquid to leak from my eyes. So, I was let initially let down by Toy Story 4.

Then I talked with my best friend about it. He saw it, and loved it, and was coy about why he thought I might not have liked it. “It’s interesting you didn’t like it,” he said without a smirk but he might as well have had one. “Why?” I asked with a tone that didn’t feel like asking. 

“It just seemed to speak to where you’re at in life, right now.”

The words hung over my head as annoyance and fear built up inside of me. Annoyance because he is usually right about these things, fear because I don’t like to feel exposed, and movies have a way of doing that. 

So, I re-watched it. 

And then I took a half hour to cry in my car afterwards. 

Here’s what I learned on a second viewing and, if you haven’t seen the movie, SPOILERS: 

Toy Story 4 picks up shortly after Toy Story 3 drops off. Woody, Buzz, and the gang are now Bonnie’s toys. Woody is no longer the favorite toy, and this clearly stings to his depth’s. He has been relegated to the task of making sure Bonnie’s favorite toys are consistently showing up for her, because a toy who doesn’t have a kid might as well not exist. One day, Bonnie creates a toy of her own. Using a spork, pipe cleaner, a popsicle stick, and some googly eyes, Bonnie creates Forky. Forky, maybe the most bizarre character in the Toy Story universe, now has the coveted job of being Bonnie’s favorite toy. But Forky believes he is trash, and longs only to live in trash cans. He doesn’t believe he is a toy, and thus runs away. Causing Woody to leave Bonnie and the group to try and get Forky back to home.

Toy Story 4 is not dissimilar to the first three entries in that the toys are merely the authors chosen vehicle to explore the big questions in life. It seems that nearly every character in this movie is dealing with the dilemma of existence, purpose, and meaning. Aside from Woody trying to figure out how to make sense of his life since he is no longer the center of a kid’s world, and Forky struggling with knowing where he’s from and being told where he should be going, there are a plethora of other characters struggling through this similar theme. Buzz is trying to figure out how to think autonomously, without having to rely on Woody to be his moral guide. New characters Ducky and Bunny have spent years hanging on the prize wall of a carnival game, dreaming of the day they can go home with a kid and discover the feeling of purpose. Duke Caboom hides in shame and isolation because his sense of self was stripped from him when he was rejected by his first owner. And, Gabby Gabby longs for the day she can get her voice box repaired so as to go home with a young girl who frequents the antique shop Gabby occupies. Amongst this crew of existentialist toys stands Bo-Peep, seemingly the only toy in the crew with an established sense of self. She isn’t angst-y or insecure, she has found meaning and purpose outside the play-room of a kid, and she insists on never going back.

Bo-Peep stands as a challenge to the rhetoric Woody has been preaching for the previous three movies: Toys can and should have purpose and meaning, whether or not they are the center of a kid’s world. And the movies ends in an unexpected way, at least for me. The movie sets you up to think that Bo-Peep will come to her senses and go with Woody and the gang to return to Bonnie. Instead, we see Woody acknowledge that he longer has meaning in his old life, and he joins Bo-Peep on a new journey. It turns out that this old toy still has a few new tricks to learn. Bo-Peep and Woody are shown in an epilogue to be helping toys find kids to get connected to. Their season of being loved by a kid is over, now they get to teach new toys how to do their job well.

 The reason my friend’s comments to me were so incisive was because Woody and I were on the same boat. I was deep in grief when I watched Toy Story 4, and was struggling to find a new way forward after losing a sense of meaning. And I think this turmoil is something a lot of us can relate to. Many of us have faced the traumatic moment where the things that used to fill our lives with meaning are no longer there, and we’re left to pick up the pieces and figure out what life is supposed to look like now. Whether it is new empty nesters whose kids have moved out and no longer need them to meet their needs, or someone facing the end of a relationship, or the loss of a job, retirement, the death of a loved one… many of us have faced moments which cause us to question whether or not life has meaning anymore. And those of us who haven’t faced this yet will, probably more than once. It is a sort of human right of passage.

So, what do we do when we experience what seems like the end of meaning? Many of us attempt to hang on to the fragments of what used to give us meaning, but we do so at the cost of our inner lives. We see this in the ways Woody scrambles to keep Forky and the other toys showing up for Bonnie, only to leave him feeling empty in the end. When we experience these sad endings, the much braver choice would be to see what is left in life for us to experience. I believe we are all created on purpose. None of us are accidents to God. We are given the gift of life, and sustained by forces animated by the Divine. In our lives, we will experience a thousand deaths, but we will also experience a thousand resurrections. 

If Toy Story 4 has any wisdom to offer those of us who are suffering with a deep sense of loss, and I believe it does, it is to encourage us toward openness. Many of us feel born with certain purposes. “I was born to be a mom,” “I was born to be a leader,” “If I don’t do what I love I’ll go crazy.” These dreams and ambitions are good, and I believe within us for a reason. But we can lose an openness to the adventures God may have for us if we limit our purpose to the things we are already aware of. Being a King was not on David’s radar. Liberating slaves was not the thing Moses dreamt of doing as a child. Leading the greatest spiritual movement in human history probably wasn’t the thing Peter was expecting to happen when he took over his father’s fishing business. 

If you are experiencing the end of meaning, the loss of purpose, all I can say is have hope and be open. There is still time to be surprised.

28 Most Important Things I've Learned in 28 Years.

Every year, on my birthday, I try to take inventory of any potential wisdom I could have gained throughout my life. Wisdom doesn't come very naturally for me, so this took some time. But these are the 28 things that are governing my life right now. Maybe they can be of some help to you as well.

28. Wisdom calls us to engage people who are different from us with curiosity, which requires openness, a willingness to listen, and draws us closer together. Fear calls us to look at people different from us with suspicion, which makes us closed-off, unwilling to engage, and divides us. Wisdom is always better than fear.

27. No political party has a monopoly on Jesus. The chances are if anyone tells you their party is Gods party they have traded allegiance to Jesus with allegiance to empire (you know, the thing that killed Him.)

26. The most important relationships will experience the most pain, because we are always fighting against our selfishness and for our connection to each other. 

25. Be connected to the moment, to the here and now. God must be a big fan of today because we keep waking up to it. 

24. If the thought, attitude, behavior, or theology doesn’t reflect Jesus it isn’t Christian, no matter how many Bible verses you have to back it up. 

23. God is rescuing the world, and God will not be stopped, hindered, or slowed down; and we get to join God if we'd like.

22. Cynics are wounded optimists. It’s worth it to confront your cynicism and trade it for optimism. 

21. All I will say I know about God for certain (as certain as one can be about matters of faith) is that he is infinitely loving and infinitely mysterious

20. My family and friends make me a rich person. 

19. Being quick to dislike someone or count them out is a tragic way to live. 

18. People who disagree with you are not dumb. They hold their values for a reason, and usually you can learn from their reasoning. 

17. There are rarely easy solutions, only people who are willing to engage in life’s complexities and people who aren’t. 

16. Anyone who tells you they don’t like music is almost certainly a sociopath and should be looked at with suspicion. 

15. God is like Jesus. God has always been like Jesus. There has never been a time where God was not like Jesus. We haven’t always known this, but now we do. 

14. Don’t hold on tightly to a friend who wants to leave. If you allow freedom for someone to walk away, you allow even more freedom for them to come back. 

13. Don't get caught up doing more for God than your inner life with God can sustain. Prioritize living as a human being before the Creator rather than a human doing.

12. The Enneagram is scary.

11. Don’t give up on your dreams. They matter. 

10. The church is imperfect but is worth fighting for. (As St. Francis said: The church is a whore, but she is my mother.)

9. God is aware of your gifts, he gave them to you. So, if you aren’t in a position to use them, as horrible as it sounds, be patient, he can’t wait to unleash you (when you’re ready). 

8. No matter how bad things get there is still time to be surprised. 

7. We rarely see things as they are, we see things as we are. 

6. Being able to handle cognitive dissonance is fundamental to being a gracious and understanding person. 

5. In lieu of #6, the other side of doubt doesn’t have to be unbelief. Doubt can lead to greater faith. Doubt and faith can co-exist, and if you’re experiencing doubt you could be on the verge of a Divine breakthrough. 

4. This Jesus thing is real, and it’s worth devoting your life to. 

3. Every day spent being Kelsey's husband is a day I am walking in God’s abundance. 

2. The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. We can and should be advocating for its earthly presence all the time. 

1. The infinite love of God is constantly being poured out for humanity if we have eyes to see and ears to hear.

What Are The Ten Books I Wish Every Christian Would Read?

When I was 18 years-old, the amount of books I had read from front to back could have been counted on one hand. I had just joined staff at a church as an intern, and was hysterically green when it came to the ministry. What I lacked in common sense and experience I made up for in passion and dedication (the same can still be said of me today). The pastor at the church I had just started working for was also relatively new to his position. And because he was wisely aware of the inexperience he and the rest of the young staff had, he mandated all church staff be reading at least a book a month as a way to expedite our maturity as leaders. "Leaders are learners" he would say. Now, in case you missed that, that's:

A

BOOK

A

MONTH.

So, the staff would read a book together in our staff meetings and, to be totally honest, the first few months I definitely just skimmed through the chapters and pretended to know what was going on during staff discussions. But, when I saw how much the group around me was learning, and how much it fueled their passion for ministry and their relationships with God, it awakened a desire within me to engage with more intentionality. So, I started reading the staff books. Over time, we would stop reading books together, and I would branch out to start reading on my own. And, eventually, on my own terms, I developed my own habit of reading.

As time went on, life and faith grew increasingly complicated. The types of books that would speak to me most started to look different from the ones I loved in those early years. But, the discipline never left me, and it has been one of the most life-giving practices I have ever implemented.

That being said, these are the ten books I read that had the biggest impact on my life. Some of these are on here because they profoundly shaped or challenged my theology, some are on here because they spoke perfectly to the season of life I was in as I read them. Either way, these are ten books I wish every Christian would read.


DISCLAIMER: I am not an academic. It is very well likely that the ideas expressed in these books were said first at an earlier time. However, these are the ones to make it to me first.



Honorable Mentions:

The Very Good Gospel by Lisa Sharon Harper

Out of Sorts by Sarah Bessey

Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis

Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller

The Cross and the Lynching Tree by James Cone

In the Name of Jesus by Henri Nouwen

Inspired by Rachel Held Evans

How to Survive a Shipwreck by Jonathan Martin

I'm Still Here by Austin Channing Brown

Letters From Babylon by Brian Zahnd

Her Gates Will Never Be Shut by Brad Jersak

What is the Bible? by Rob Bell

Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places by Eugene Peterson

And here we go...

10. A Generous Orthodoxy: Why I am a Missional, Post/Protestant, Liberal/Conservative, Charismatic/Contemplative, Fundamentalist/Calvinist, Anabaptist/Anglican, Methodist/Catholic, Green, Incarnational, Depressed-Yet-Hopeful, Emergent, Unfinished, CHRISTIAN by Brian McLaren

“A generous orthodoxy acknowledges that we’re all a mess. It sees in our worst failures the possibility of our deepest repentance and God’s opening for our most profound healing. It remembers Jesus’ parable that wherever God sows good seed, “an enemy” will sow weed seeds. It realizes that you can’t pull up the bad without uprooting the good too, and so it refrains from judging. It just rejoices wherever good seed grows.” 

Try saying that subtitle three times fast.

There have been points in my life where the framework and practice of Christianity I was handed stopped making sense to me. During these points, I grew fearful I would have to leave the faith altogether, as I found myself outside the established orthodoxy of my tribe. Then I read A Generous Orthodoxy. In what I consider his magnum opus, McLaren beckons the followers of Christ to trade a rigid, exclusive, stingy orthodoxy for a more generous form. By examining the beauty in the many traditions represented in the Christian faith, McLaren takes us back to the center of our religion: Jesus Christ. The revelation that the stream of Christianity I was swimming in was but one of many Christians streams afforded me the opportunity to dive deeper into the faith, not abandon it.




9. Fight! A Christian Case for Nonviolence by Preston Sprinkle

“Seeing America’s military strength as the hope of the world is an affront to God’s rule over the world. It’s idolatry.” 

Preston strikes the perfect chord by writing with a blend of humility and conviction. This book helped me realize what it meant to be a follower of the Prince of Peace in this world, and ultimately helped me further realize the costly call of Christian discipleship. Wherever you land on the topic of Christian non-violence, it's hard not to be challenged by Preston's biblical scholarship, commitment to Jesus, and tender heart, which bleeds on to every page.



8. Water to Wine by Brian Zahnd

“Fundamentalism is to Christianity what paint-by-numbers is to art.”

I read this book at the same time I was reading Generous Orthodoxy, and what a perfect companion it made. It gets double points because not only is the content fantastic, but it introduced me to Brian Zahnd. In Water to Wine he tracks his journey of spiritual transition with the prose of a poet and the power of a prophet. In a day and age where many folks from my generation are violently deconstructing their faith and living in the rubble, Zahnd advocates for a way of transitioning that remains distinctly Christian, and opens the door to a more Christ like expression of church, practice, and theology.



7. Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright

“Jesus's resurrection is the beginning of God's new project, not to snatch people away from earth to heaven, but to colonize earth with the life of heaven. That, after all, is what the Lord's Prayer is about.” 

Out of all the books on my list, this is the one I read most recently and, ironically, much of my favorite books borrow heavily from the ideas Wright is championing in Surprised By Hope. So, I was familiar with some of the content before I read it. But, no one writes like Wright, and very few have the gift to articulate arguments as air-tight as he does. Books like this have the potential to save Christianity in our country. Many in my generation and the generation following me do not find post-mortem paradise compelling enough of a case for the beauty of Christianity. But a Gospel that allows to enter into eternal life from the start? That sounds like the world changing movement pioneered by Christ.





6. From Mourning to Dancing by Henri Nouwen

“By inviting God into our difficulties we ground life—even its sad moments—in joy and hope. When we stop grasping our lives we can finally be given more than we could ever grab for ourselves. And we learn the way to a deeper love for others.”

Henri Nouwen, through this book, was the first to introduce me to a healthy combination of psychology and theology. It came across my lap during one of the most profound seasons of depression I have ever encountered, and is my frequent go to when I sense depression settling in. Interestingly enough, this was not a book Nouwen wrote, rather a collection of essays he wrote on suffering, depression, and hope later edited together into one manuscript. Taking time to read this little book slowly, especially when you feel you're spiraling, is like stepping into sacred space. Space where your pain is a gift, and a conduit to greater intimacy with the Creator.





5. The Irresistible Revolution: Living as An Ordinary Radical by Shane Claiborne

“The more I get to know Jesus, the more trouble he seems to get me into."

This is by far the most challenging book I have ever read. Not because the theology is provocative, provocative theology is child's play compared to what Shane is doing here. He's offering something scarier: It's not enough to admire Jesus, we have to imitate him. My spiritual director, Kurt, has said Christianity as we see it today seems a lot like a book club centered around the Bible. When in actuality, Christianity is much better understood as a movement centered around Jesus. With Irresistible Revolution, Shane has written a prophetic call for the church to repent from the worship of buildings, budgets, and books clubs, and return to the simple, radical, way of Jesus; a movement that seeks human flourishing on every level.




4. A More Christlike God: A More Beautiful Gospel by Brad Jersak

“To look at Jesus—especially on the Cross, says 1 John—is to behold the clearest depiction of the God who is love (1 John 4:8). I’ve come to believe that Jesus alone is perfect theology"

When I came across this book I was just coming back from a severe crisis of faith. At that time, the Gospel was less good news to be spread, and more a problem to be solved. For anyone who has felt a disconnect between the God revealed in Christ and the God revealed in much of evangelical theology, this book is for you. Brad is not hiding his agenda here, he is presenting a case for the idea that the clearest and fullest revelation of who God is should be found in Jesus, and all scripture, theology, and practice should be subordinate to this truth. And if God truly is fully revealed in Christ, that is good news for all people, at all times, in all places.




3. Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church by Rachel Held Evans

“The church is God saying: 'I'm throwing a banquet, and all these mismatched, messed-up people are invited. Here, have some wine.”

St. Francis of Assisi is credited to have said, "The church is a whore, but she is my mother."
This quote summarizes perfectly the conflicting feelings many of us have towards church. I believe in the church. So much so, that I have dedicated my life to working and serving in churches, at many points for no pay. I believe a church committed to being the communal expression of Christ on the earth offers the greatest hope to the world. I'm also aware that churches can be breeding grounds for dissension, abuse, gossip, greed, dishonesty, sexism, racism, political toxicity, and a plethora of other traumatizing things. If you've run out of reasons to believe in church, or if you know someone who has, I can think of no greater resource or gift than Searching for Sunday. Rachel has left a legacy so much more profound than any of us thought possible. She will undoubtedly go down in history as one of the great contemporary spiritual writers alongside C.S. Lewis, Henri Nouwen, and Medeleine L'Engle. And I think this book was her best work.




2. The Divine Dance: The Trinity and Your Transformation by Richard Rohr

“Our starting place was always original goodness, not original sin. This makes our ending place—and everything in between—possessing an inherent capacity for goodness, truth, and beauty.” 

There is a reason I've lent this book out more than any other book. Richard Rohr is probably the great spiritual writer of our time. Even if 20-30% of what he says I absolutely disagree with, that 70-80% left is life changing gold. His work and influence transcends the lines of conservative/liberal Christianity, having an impact on various folks from almost all Christian traditions, and even those outside the Christian tradition. And this is his magnum opus. Rohr starts the book off with the startling declaration that we could lose the doctrine of the Trinity and it wouldn't change one thing about how we live, pray, or think. That cannot be the case for anyone lucky enough to read The Divine Dance. If there has been any other book that has stretched and challenged my constructions about who God is and how God works, I can't think of it. I have read this book three times now, once a year every year since its release, and I reckon that will continue for many years to come.





1. The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis

“Heaven is not a state of mind. Heaven is reality itself. All that is fully real is Heavenly. For all that can be shaken will be shaken, and only the unshakeable remains.”

The only work of fiction on this list (I suck at reading fiction). And by far the book I've read more than any other book. The less I unpack the better. So, I'll just say it follows a writer in Hell who takes a bus ride to Heaven, and is forced to decide if he wants to undergo the temporal agony of entering into the fullness of reality, which is Heaven, or stay in the comfortable, unceasing agony of Hell. Packed with enchanting imagery, convicting themes, and some of the richest theology I've ever read, The Great Divorce is an absolute must-read for any and every Christian.

Ad Astra and The Sacred Now

The Sacred Now

Brad Pitt’s new movie is the best Case for atheism I’ve ever seen, and why I, a pastor, think all Christians need to hear what it has to say.

Thirty minutes ago, as of writing this sentence, I stepped out of Regal Cinemas after having viewed Brad Pitt’s newest sci-fi mind bender, Ad Astra. In the movie, Brad Pitt plays the son of a legendary space traveler (Tommy Lee Jones), who’s courageous work and discoveries have made him the most decorated astronaut in history. Pitt’s character, Roy, has not seen his father since he was sixteen years old, and the movie does not hold back on the existential dread that comes from such abandonment. Roy battles a demon within himself: he carries the same rage-filled distance he has always detected from his father, and constantly wonders if his closest relationships are doomed to crumble because he has inherited his father’s curse of detachment. 

Roy’s father left his wife and son in search of the infinite, to find the great Meaning and Source that lies beneath all of creation. Roy, like his father, has also chosen to see past what is in plain sight (and equally disregarded it) in search of a deeper reality. Roy is dangerously close to becoming like the man who abandoned all the love and splendor in front of him in search of the unseen.

Ad Astra is a movie with a definite message, and it is even summed up in Brad Pitt’s narration about his father, that goes something along the lines of, “He discovered some of the most beautiful things in creation, but he didn’t see them because he was looking for what was not there. He was looking for the unseen beneath the seen. But, beneath it all there was nothing. No love or hate. No darkness or light. No wrong or right.”

As I raced from the theater to my laptop, mulling over the movie in my head, I thought of a lady I knew, and for the sake of anonymity, we’ll call her Lisa. Lisa grew up with a brother and sister. Her dad was a pastor, and her mom dutifully aided her father in running their small church. Lisa knew at a young age that she was gay, and was horrified to tell her family, knowing it would surely mean swift rejection. Lisa attempted to hide and suppress her identity, even to the point of marrying a man and having a son with him. After a number of suicide attempts and emotional breakdowns, and an affair on her husband’s part, she came out of the closet, promptly ending her marriage. Lisa was banned from her family. She was told she would never be allowed to another Christmas, Thanksgiving, or birthday celebration until she ended her life of sin and returned to her (adulterous) husband. When I knew her, Lisa was a bright, hilarious, and warm presence. I couldn’t imagine anyone who truly knew her would reject her.

 The movie Ad Astra warns us against pushing away the verifiable in search of the unverifiable. Just as Roy’s father abandoned his son because he could not see the beauty before him, Lisa’s family disowned her, unable to see the beauty within her. As a pastor, and as someone who has spent his whole life in the church, I have seen time after time religious dogmatism bring wreckage to relationships when one party veers a step or two from the established dogma. 

When our commitment to the unseen leads us away from the sacred connection to what is seen, one has to wonder what merit this commitment has.

I, of course, am not an atheist. Nor do I have any intentions of ever becoming one. But, a thought struck me as I was watching Ad Astra: I have spent so much of my life running away from the seen in search of the unseen. If I die, and I discover there is no unseen, that all I had was the life I was given on earth, would I feel I made good use of my time? If there is no unseen or afterlife, then all I have is my life here and now. My religion fails me, or I fail it, when it leads me away from deep appreciation of the sacred now. If I don’t appreciate my wife, a sunset, the tides of the ocean, the sound of a running stream, the comradery of my friends, or the taste of a cup of coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar, then did I live in a way that honors the gift it is to simply be alive?

I don’t believe I have to abandon my faith in God or commitment to Jesus in order to live with a deeper appreciation for the holy this. I believe Jesus, properly followed, leads us deeper into a love for all of this, not away from it. Perhaps this is at least partially what he meant when he said, “the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.” A life waiting for some cosmic rescue, a life lived for a funeral, is a life that dishonors the glory all around us. If my breath is a gift, and this gift has a source, and that source is Love, then I shame the gift when I use my religiosity as a way to push me away from the beauty in front of me.

Growing up in the church I was told to stay away from worldly things, so I’ll end with this prayer: 

May Holy Spirit lead me into an earthier way of living. May I behold the sacred beauty in my spouse. May I stop and savor the smell of freshly ground coffee in the morning. May I breathe deeply the rich air I’ve been gifted with, and see with gratitude the splendor all around me. 

May I not waste one second waiting for that.

May I live with deep appreciation for This.

Amen.

Suicide is a Boogeyman

There is a Boogeyman who dwells deep within my psyche. I have worked hard to not let my life be dictated by the suggestions of this Boogeyman, I am in the driver’s seat of my choices. At times the Boogeyman was close to being in control, close to sitting in the driver’s seat and driving us off the road. I have worked hard to maintain control of my actions, to not let the Boogeyman find his win. And even though it has been a while since I have heard the Boogeyman’s voice, I feel as though he is still there. Lurking and waiting. Waiting for me to fall down, waiting for the time where his voice sounds appealing and tempting once again.

A lot of us have our own versions of “the Boogeyman” we have had to battle. It can be a million different vices for a million-different people, but for me the Boogeyman is suicide. I was in the 8^thgrade the first time I heard the voice of this dreadful demon. I had finally realized that I had a tendency to crush on my male friends. Growing up in conservative Pentecostalism while realizing my attractions were not binary left me feeling as though I had few options. The discovery of my alternative orientation felt like a death sentence, and my Boogeyman would capitalize on this fear and vulnerability for nearly a decade. 

I resisted the voices for a couple years. Whenever ideations ran rampant I would force myself to take walks around my neighborhood, heart beating loudly before I ever took a step. The harder the temptation grew to make an irreversible choice, the faster I walked. When I couldn’t walk, I would listen to music. Hours were spent lying on my couch weeping as I played The Shadow Proves the Sunshine by Switchfoot over and over. I would sing that chorus through my tears, desperately searching for any glance of the sunshine to be found in my shadows. 

I was fifteen the first time I tried to kill myself. I figured I could chug a bottle of bleach and that would do the trick. It left me on my bathroom floor, weeping in the shame and the puke. The Boogeyman would whisper many more alluring ideas throughout my life. Whenever the pressure got too much to handle, whenever I felt no control over my circumstances, I knew I could always count on the voice to tell me I could end it all, and never have to feel this way again.

For everyone who can recall it, September 11^th, 2001 is a day burned deep into our psyches. There are images of that day which will never leave my head, though one stands out above the rest. As the buildings flooded with fire and ash, many opted to jump out the windows of the gigantic edifices, wishing to rather take their chances with the fall than with the flame. Anyone who has felt the allure of suicide before understands this impulse. It’s not because we’re cowards. It’s not because we want the easy way out. It’s because sometimes the building is too damn hot, and we feel the only option is to jump.

Through counseling, vulnerability, prayer, and sacred conversations with my wife and a few trusted friends, I have learned to resist the voice of the Boogeyman. I have learned to believe the goodness in my life. I have learned to trust another voice. The voice that says “there’s still time to be surprised.”I have bought into hope, to the ideathat all the pain, the fire in the building, is data, not destiny. Even if it feels like I’m burning up, and the building is crashing, perhaps rescue is on the way.

And to you, who reads this, who knows the voice of the Boogeyman, I say the same things to you. Maybe, just maybe, there is still time to be surprised. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not going down with the ship. The world needs you. It needs your gifts. It needs your dreams. It needs your love. It needs your vulnerability. It needs your beauty. It needs you to rebuild that old vintage car you’ve always wanted to fix. It needs you to dance in pretty dresses. It needs you to write that book, to take that dream vacation, to ask that girl out, to take risks, and to bounce back from failures.

 The Boogeyman is a liar. He will never tell you the truth. There is another voice to hear, one to give you hope and define your reality. Hang in there. Wipe the spit from your eye, and expect the unexpected. 

5 Ways to Help a Loved One Suffering a Crisis of Faith: Stuff Let Go from Won't Let You Go (Part 1).

"With the life-giving energy I once received from church withering away, I lost the ability to keep my questions in check. I was terrified. I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and I couldn’t see anything more than fog and mist below. The wind was blowing hard, and I was losing my balance. I was at the edge of certainty, about to fall into mystery."

~Won't Let You Go: Hanging on to Christ and Falling in To Mystery.

I am in the process of writing my first book, Won't Let You Go, which chronicles the process of my loss and rediscovery of the Christian faith. The process has been arduous to say the least, partially because there is so much I want to say, but it doesn't always fit with the through-line I want in the book. I am ironically having to let go of some of Won't Let You Go. So, I've decided to take the pieces I like best that won't make the final cut, edit them to fit in a series of blogs, and publish them this way. I hope they can be of some help and amusement. 

A crisis of faith is no joke, and it is something that has become increasingly common among people my age, i.e. millennials, i.e. people born between 1981 and 1997. This shouldn’t be surprising, since my generation has become one of the least churched generations in decades (Gen Z has beat us out for least churched in American history). In a world where information is so easily accessible, where scientific and empirical data are so compelling, and where it has become increasingly vogue to not identify with any specific religion, faith is difficult to maintain. Many of us know someone who is wrestling with their faith, and it can often times leave you feeling helpless and afraid for said person. Don’t lose heart though, because there are actual ways you can help.

1.       Show Them the Reality of Love

As Science Mike McHargue has said many times, when someone tells you  everything they’ve known and believed is slipping away, the best response is a hug. When someone doesn't know what's real and what's false, show them the reality of tangible love. Remember Jesus’ directive that Christians are to be the ones who bring Gods space (The Kingdom of Heaven) into the human space. When we respond to disconcerting news that a loved one is having a crisis of faith with unconditional love, you bring Gods space to theirs, you reveal that the Kingdom of Heaven is here and now.

2.       Don’t Shame The Doubt

A crisis of faith is a lot like living with the constant threat that your very ground of being can be taken from you at any moment. It is a terrifying, anxiety-inducing, lonely experience. In my experience, it is not something an individual seeks out, rather it is something that happens to her or him. When we respond to the confession of doubt with arguments defending the faith, and scripture references that seem to speak against doubt, as good as our intentions may be, the person in crisis will often feel ashamed, and lock themselves in secret. Instead, listen, offer support and solidarity.

3.       Affirm Their Experience

Doubt is a normal and universal aspect of the human experience. And the brilliant truth of it all is there is room in the Christian story for doubters. Even Christ himself cried out on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” To doubt is to “fellowship in Christ's sufferings,” as Paul says in Philippians 3. When a person doubts, they participate in the Crucifixion. Don’t be afraid to affirm this stuff is difficult to believe in. An affirmation of experience decreases isolation and increases intimacy. So, affirm the normal and expected terrain of doubt. After all, how many people do you know who have risen from the dead?



         4. Get Curious

When I ventured down the path my faith crisis led me to, I was met with one of two responses when I'd share my experience with people. The first was response was one of suspicion. They'd look at me with a slight squint in their eye, trying to hide their disappoint as they judged that I was arrogantly or naively sliding down the slippery slope of liberalism. The second response was one of curiosity. They would offer empathy, and ask questions about the data and events that led me to my current status. The ones who engaged with me curiously were the ones I eagerly shared with as God become more real to me later on.



        5. Don't Respond Out of Insecurity.

I understand why I was met with suspicion by some. In the past, as my friends confided their doubts to me, I would get suspicious and defensive. The reason for this was the questions they brought up poked at a belief I held tightly, but didn't have a lot of rational behind. When someone questions something that matters to you, and you don't feel you have an adequate defense, it makes you insecure. Resist this insecurity. Again, choose curiosity and empathy, and you will position yourself in their lives as a true ally.



There are many other ways to help loved ones in the midst of a faith crisis (don't pressure them, be patient, validated that they are more important to you than what they believe), but I believe this is a good starting place, and when applied, can alleviate the feeling of helplessness that comes during some of these difficult conversations.