And with one question from the audience during the Q&A following the world premiere of “Our House” at Toronto’s Hot Docs festival, someone popped the bubble.

The question in particular explicitly revealed that the anarchist Christians running their own illegal homeless shelter in Williamsburg had complicit permission in using their building from the owner: not exactly the definition of “squatting” like the description of “Our House” promised, and not very “anarchistic” either. Christian? Sure.

But I’m getting ahead of myself: “Our House” is a short documentary about a few young men who decide to operate their own homeless outreach community in an abandoned Williamsburg warehouse. They’re vegan, Christians, dread-locked punk rockers with plugs in their ears and pray inside a heated “love tent.” (I’m sure they are inspired by Shane Claiborne’s “The Irresistible Revolution,” but that’s never expressed in the film).

For non-religious types, they probably saw this film as a sad period piece about (barely) pre-gentrification W-burg, and the relationship communities have with their physical homes. As a Christian, I found the film to be extremely inspiring, watching these guys attempt to live alongside the suffering street people stuck in endless cycles of anger, drugs and crime. They prayed openly and intimately inside their “love tent,” often embracing afterwards: I wish I had that kind of spiritual connection to others when I finished praying alongside them. Maybe Grace Toronto should erect it’s own “love tent” for prayer meetings.

I don’t know if anybody is shocked by the dread-locked punk rocker aspect of the Christians in the movies: Christian punk is fairly mainstream, and while these guys looked pretty edgy on screen, they really don’t look much different than the kids who come home from Christian wakeboarding camps at the end of the summer.

I could also be desensitized to the image of weirdo hardcore Christians: I’ll admit to being one myself (both a Christian and a weirdo), as I have attended late night punk shows at the Bohemian Penguin in Belleville shouting along to a hardcore version of “Our God is an Awesome God” and have paid witness to Belleville’s own dreadlocked baptist rastafarian, Jah Pickney.

As for the Christian Anarchy angle of the movie, I’m afraid that it’s under-represented in the documentary as well. I was disappointed with that because I do have a few “Christian Anarchy” books on my shelf, and was looking for an interesting portrayal of this fringe denomination on screen. Maybe I’ll save it for my own documentary someday.

Click here to watch a trailer for “Our House”

With a quick look at our bustling city, you’d think that the only reason we have a Friday off in April is to much on delicious, delicious chocolate and enjoy the spare few rays of sunshine in a rainy month. For those of us that grew up in the country, it’s the weekend everyone got together to hunt for plastic eggs hidden around the yard. In my family’s house, it was even a pseudo-Christmas morning with lots of Easter presents, with a chocolate and jelly bean hunt around the house.

But as I’ve gotten older, and my desire to get on my hands and knees to search for treats (I can buy chocolate anytime I want now! And I have!) has lessened, I’ve grown to see Easter as the spiritual holiday it was always intended to be. Nearly 15 years I dedicated myself to be a follower of Christ, through all it’s ups and downs, and in the course of my spiritual journey, I’ve learned to see Easter is the truest of all Christian religious days, where the faith is born and celebrated.

It’s the fulfillment of Jesus Christ, God’s only child, fused with the Holy Spirit, and the journey that he had to take in order to reconcile every human being with their maker.

Easter weekend begins with today, Good Friday, when we commemorate “the passion,” or the day that Jesus was betrayed, denied, beaten and crucified, left to hang in the air until all life left his body. And Jesus knew all this (referring to himself in the third person as the “Son of Man” in the following):

Jesus, now well on the way up to Jerusalem, took the Twelve off to the side of the road and said, “Listen to me carefully. We are on our way up to Jerusalem. When we get there, the Son of Man will be betrayed to the religious leaders and scholars. They will sentence him to death. They will then hand him over to the Romans for mockery and torture and crucifixion. On the third day he will be raised up alive.” (Matthew 20: 17-19)

Once Jesus arrived in Jerusalem, he stirred up controversy, and drew ire from both the local religious and government authorities (If you want to read more about these, check out Matthew chapters 20-26 or so). During the “Last Supper,” Jesus revealed that he knew he was betrayed by one of his closest followers (disciples), Judas. This was all going down in the final days before the Jewish holiday, Passover.

Passover commemorates the story of the Exodus, when God freed his people from slavery in Egypt. This is the story of the ten plagues, the last of which was the killing of every first born son, except for those of the Hebrews, who were instructed to mark their doors with the blood of a spring lamb. When they did, God’s spirit “passed over” their homes, and their first born sons were spared. Following the plague, the slaves were set free.

(It wasn’t all easy going for them, they ended up wandering the desert for generations following their escape).

Passover is important to the celebration of Easter because this is the promise that Jesus came to fulfill. The blood of lambs and the following of laws etched in stone were never enough for us to reunite with our God — our sacrifices were always tainted, in-genuine, and we flat out failed in following the commands God gave us.

Jesus, as God’s holy and perfect son, is the passover lamb for all humanity. He is God’s own first born and only son, and with his death, he gives us our own freedom from the slavery of sin.

The soldiers assigned to the governor took Jesus into the governor’s palace and got the entire brigade together for some fun. They stripped him and dressed him in a red toga. They plaited a crown from branches of a thornbush and set it on his head. They put a stick in his right hand for a scepter. Then they knelt before him in mocking reverence: “Bravo, King of the Jews!” they said. “Bravo!” Then they spit on him and hit him on the head with the stick. When they had had their fun, they took off the toga and put his own clothes back on him. Then they proceeded out to the crucifixion.

Along the way they came on a man from Cyrene named Simon and made him carry Jesus’ cross. Arriving at Golgotha, the place they call “Skull Hill,” they offered him a mild painkiller (a mixture of wine and myrrh), but when he tasted it he wouldn’t drink it.

After they had finished nailing him to the cross and were waiting for him to die, they whiled away the time by throwing dice for his clothes. Above his head they had posted the criminal charge against him: this is jesus, the king of the jews. Along with him, they also crucified two criminals, one to his right, the other to his left. People passing along the road jeered, shaking their heads in mock lament: “You bragged that you could tear down the Temple and then rebuild it in three days—so show us your stuff! Save yourself! If you’re really God’s Son, come down from that cross!”

The high priests, along with the religion scholars and leaders, were right there mixing it up with the rest of them, having a great time poking fun at him: “He saved others—he can’t save himself! King of Israel, is he? Then let him get down from that cross. We’ll all become believers then! He was so sure of God—well, let him rescue his ‘Son’ now—if he wants him! He did claim to be God’s Son, didn’t he?” Even the two criminals crucified next to him joined in the mockery.

From noon to three, the whole earth was dark. Around mid-afternoon Jesus groaned out of the depths, crying loudly, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

Some bystanders who heard him said, “He’s calling for Elijah.” One of them ran and got a sponge soaked in sour wine and lifted it on a stick so he could drink. The others joked, “Don’t be in such a hurry. Let’s see if Elijah comes and saves him.”

But Jesus, again crying out loudly, breathed his last.

At that moment, the Temple curtain was ripped in two, top to bottom. There was an earthquake, and rocks were split in pieces. What’s more, tombs were opened up, and many bodies of believers asleep in their graves were raised. (After Jesus’ resurrection, they left the tombs, entered the holy city, and appeared to many.)

The captain of the guard and those with him, when they saw the earthquake and everything else that was happening, were scared to death. They said, “This has to be the Son of God!”

(The following is taken from Matthew, chapter 27, v 27-54, from translation of the Bible known as “The Message.”)

And with his death, it was noted the temple curtain ripped in two: symbolically and literally, this meant that he Holy Place where God was said to reside in their churches, was no longer hidden from us. This was the moment that Jesus became the sacrifice — one where God allowed his own son to be stolen away from him completely. At that moment, God cut off Jesus from his presence, which is why Jesus cries out “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” Jesus at that point began to experience the absolute hell that occurs in our soul when we are totally anguished,depressed and desolute — when we are furthest from the presence of God.

But the story doesn’t end there. Not by a long shot.

Once Jesus had finally died on the cross, his body was taken down, wrapped in blankets, and placed in a tomb. That tomb was then blocked from anyone entering with a giant stone, with a soldier standing guard in front. Mary Magdalene, along with another Mary, sat nearby, grieving for their leader.

After the Sabbath, as the first light of the new week dawned, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to keep vigil at the tomb. Suddenly the earth reeled and rocked under their feet as God’s angel came down from heaven, came right up to where they were standing. He rolled back the stone and then sat on it. Shafts of lightning blazed from him. His garments shimmered snow-white. The guards at the tomb were scared to death. They were so frightened, they couldn’t move.

The angel spoke to the women: “There is nothing to fear here. I know you’re looking for Jesus, the One they nailed to the cross. He is not here. He was raised, just as he said. Come and look at the place where he was placed.

“Now, get on your way quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He is risen from the dead. He is going on ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there.’ That’s the message.”

The women, deep in wonder and full of joy, lost no time in leaving the tomb. They ran to tell the disciples. Then Jesus met them, stopping them in their tracks. “Good morning!” he said. They fell to their knees, embraced his feet, and worshiped him. Jesus said, “You’re holding on to me for dear life! Don’t be frightened like that. Go tell my brothers that they are to go to Galilee, and that I’ll meet them there.”

Meanwhile, the guards had scattered, but a few of them went into the city and told the high priests everything that had happened. They called a meeting of the religious leaders and came up with a plan: They took a large sum of money and gave it to the soldiers, bribing them to say, “His disciples came in the night and stole the body while we were sleeping.” They assured them, “If the governor hears about your sleeping on duty, we will make sure you don’t get blamed.” The soldiers took the bribe and did as they were told. That story, cooked up in the Jewish High Council, is still going around.

Meanwhile, the eleven disciples were on their way to Galilee, headed for the mountain Jesus had set for their reunion. The moment they saw him they worshiped him. Some, though, held back, not sure about worship, about risking themselves totally.

Jesus, undeterred, went right ahead and gave his charge: “God authorized and commanded me to commission you: Go out and train everyone you meet, far and near, in this way of life, marking them by baptism in the threefold name: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then instruct them in the practice of all I have commanded you. I’ll be with you as you do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age.”

(The following is taken from Matthew, chapter 28 from translation of the Bible known as “The Message.”)

There’s a rather obscure American church you may have heard about, where members pick up and handle deadly snakes as part of their routine services. You know, you’ve got your Fender guitar amps, your pulpit and PA, and then, a whole pile of poisonous snakes.

Generally associated with the primarily rural (and Southern) Church of God, this church embraces a rather literal take on a couple of the final verses in Mark 16.

^17-18“These are some of the signs that will accompany believers: They will throw out demons in my name, they will speak in new tongues, they will take snakes in their hands, they will drink poison and not be hurt, they will lay hands on the sick and make them well.”

Now, to get technical for a moment, verses 9-20 of Mark 16 (the last chapter of that particular book) are generally excluded from “The Bible” because those verses did not appear in some of the more important early manuscripts, and because of their “different style and vocabulary,” also raises doubts.

This pentecostal sect takes this verse literally, and so believes that if they’ve been anointed by God, then they will not be killed when bitten by the snakes, and they claim to celebrate this miracle during their services.  Besides the obvious, it’s clear why snake-handling is not a mainstream practice:  it’ s a generally held interpretation that in this reference, Jesus was speaking specifically to his remaining 11 disciples, not necessarily everyone who believes in him.

I will admit that there is a part of me that had the courage these snake handlers do, believing that God would protect me from a very real, very specific and very immediate harm.

But the more I think about it, the more it seems to me that these snake handlers are taking the easy way out. Sure, it’s dangerous picking up a snake, and it is a demonstration of their faith (albeit misguided), but what do they do the rest of the time? Personally, I  think there’s more courage involved in a daily, humble faith that grows deep with routine reflection and fruitful acts of obedience. Faith is not about engaging in a public spectacle like the snake handlers: faith is deeply private and personal, and God alone knows us in our stillness.

So back away from the snakes.

Would you like to see something written up about this lamp?

Just a quick bloggy existential crisis: I’ve been thinking long and hard about the kinds of things I think long and hard about, and what I write about, and if that’s worth writing about.

The quick and easy answer is no, of course not.

The truth is, it’s really easy to write about things I’ve bought or received or found. I can look at it, describe it, vaguely share what it is I like about it, provide some background on it and where it came from, and where I put it in my home. Because hey, sometimes I’m proud of my stuff: I think it’s pretty cool, and I think I’ve worked hard to earn it, and I want to show it off. Sure, my vintage Lotte lamp is but a fraction of the value or a house or loft or car, but it’s valuable to me!

But I’ll also admit that writing about — or investing any sort of value — in material things that are trivial and frivolous  is a shallow en devour.  Sometimes it makes me feel like writing about goods and trinkets feels like the written equivalent of tumblr post featuring the account of an ingénue’s daily thrift-store/American Apparel “outfit” and sure-I-did-it-myself haircut.

So where is the line drawn? Why stop at “objects,” when maybe I should also stop writing about “places,” “stores,” “food,” “concerts,” “books” and “movies,” right? At a certain point, that even gets a little shallow, right? Even writing about my own writing, musical or otherwise is even sort of selfish, right? To go even further, who cares about what I have to thing about Government/Religion/Art in general?

The downward spiral can go even further: Why write that novel? Why take that photo? Why hack that Ikea? Well, I could go on, but you get the point

Here’s what I think: As long as I never lose sight of the big things are actually important (God, family, community, love, culture), there’s not a good reason why I can’t adorn my life or my writing with diversions that add a little embellishment. After all, these kinds of things are the spice and flavour of life — to a point.

For now, I’ll stop this train of though here, and leave you with a quote by my favourite philosopher, Soren Kirkegaard, from “Fear and Trembling.”

If there were no eternal consciousness in a man,
If at the bottom of everything there were only a wild ferment,
A power that twisting in dark passions produced everything great or inconsequential;
If an unfathomable, insatiable emptiness lay hid beneath everything,
What would life be but despair?

Thanks for bearing with me on this… we’ll now return to your regularly random updates about whatever.

As I continue my search for positive, uplifting music, I’ve stumbled across one of the best musical discoveries I’ve made in months: “Scandinavian Metal Praise.” The name is pretty self-explanatory; Christian “Praise and Worship” songs played by Finnish metal musicians, sung in English. Overall, I love it.

I’ve never been a fan of “metal praise” in general: it just seems too forced for me, either too raw or too slick… nothing “just right.” But when I was browsing iTunes for covers of “Take Me In” by Petra, I came across SMP’s version! And guess what? It’s the best cover yet, unlike the one by Kutless, which is just way too slick-metal for me.

When I went to check out the album itself, it got better yet. As you can see, the album cover is simply a church or kingdom, perched upon a tower in the clouds or something. Now THIS is the kind of praise and worship I can get behind. The riffs run the range from fairly poppy to heavier than what I’d expect, and the vocals sound similar to Evanescence. However, the guitars and drums are mixed way up front, so they don’t necessarily drown out the vocals, but they encourage you to crank the whole thing louder, which is probably the perfect experience for listening to the album.

There are a couple songs that I don’t love, like “When the Spirit of the Lord,” which reminds me of that old metal praise standard, “Jehovah Jirah.” But the awesome songs, “Great in Power,” “Praise Adonai,” “Worthy is the Lamb” and “Take Me In,” more than compensate for any of the band’s shortcomings.

In short, give it a listen. Then get it. (Here’s a link on iTunes).

• Blogger Arni Zachariassen has a rundown of SMP and insight into some old school Christian metal. (He also has chose a handsome WordPress theme for himself).
• Here’s a write-up of a festival (RockUnited) in Scandinavia where “Scandinavian Metal Praise” performed a set of four songs. I think it might have been the only set they ever played. Know your Finnish metal? You might recognize them from the photos.
• The MySpace page for Scandinavian Metal Praise.
• Here’s the band performing “Worthy is the Lamb” from what I think is that previously mentioned festival. Apparently there were serious monitor problems, which explains the vocal lag/audio problems.

Like Pedro the Lion records, drinking actual wine in communion, smoking cigars and Emergent theology, sometimes Christians want to be bad — or at least unconventional.

I think that’s why I wanted to like Robert Crumb’s illustrated version of “Genesis.” And despite moments of greatness within, I just can’t look at this book any further, and can’t recommend this book to anyone.

Maybe I should have taken the appearance of the serpent, embossed in gold on the back, as a hint that this book needs to be avoided.

First of all, if you don’t know who Robert Crumb is, let me explain: he’s one of America’s “popular” comic artists, known for subversive and “alternative” works (ie pornographic or at least soft-core) like Fritz the Cat and Mr. Natural. Fans of the story/film “American Splendor” might recognize him from his role in Harvey Pekar’s story. His work is at times bold and vibrant, and at others, crude. (Yes, I do feel a bit like a stick in the mud writing about him in this way, but I have to call it like I see it).

In October, Crumb, an atheist, released his illustrated version of “Genesis” after four years of illustration. As his introduction notes, he took on extensive research to get proper period based clothing and environmental settings right, and did not alter — or exclude — any text, which seems largely drawn from the King James version, and other modern interpretations. In the introduction, Crumb also notes that he has treated the text with respect and as a straight illustration job without editorializing, though he does suggest that the stories themselves are codes and symbols of a “true” Hebrew history… which is where he kind of loses me.

Ultimately, my quarrel isn’t with the content itself: “Genesis” is admittedly a raw, primal story full of violence, deceit and sex, which Crumb zooms in on in his illustrations. I imagine Crumb took on the challenge of doing this work if only to illustrate the story of Lot and his daughters (Uncomfortable does go far enough in describing it).

What I did like was the way Crumb extended and drew out lines that upon merely reading, wouldn’t necessarily get a deeper look: For example, when various descendants are mentioned, each son is given a portrait… a reminder of each family’s existence, not just a precursor to someone else’s existence.

For example, one of my favourite passages illustrated is of Lot’s conversation with God about sparing the city of Sodom from destruction. Here’s the original NIV text:

²⁴ What if there are fifty righteous people in the city? Will you really sweep it away and not spare ^[f] the place for the sake of the fifty righteous people in it? ²⁵ Far be it from you to do such a thing—to kill the righteous with the wicked, treating the righteous and the wicked alike. Far be it from you! Will not the Judge of all the earth do right?”

²⁶ The LORD said, “If I find fifty righteous people in the city of Sodom, I will spare the whole place for their sake.”

²⁷ Then Abraham spoke up again: “Now that I have been so bold as to speak to the Lord, though I am nothing but dust and ashes, ²⁸ what if the number of the righteous is five less than fifty? Will you destroy the whole city because of five people?”

“If I find forty-five there,” he said, “I will not destroy it.”

²⁹ Once again he spoke to him, “What if only forty are found there?”

He said, “For the sake of forty, I will not do it.”

³⁰ Then he said, “May the Lord not be angry, but let me speak. What if only thirty can be found there?”

He answered, “I will not do it if I find thirty there.”

³¹ Abraham said, “Now that I have been so bold as to speak to the Lord, what if only twenty can be found there?”

He said, “For the sake of twenty, I will not destroy it.”

³² Then he said, “May the Lord not be angry, but let me speak just once more. What if only ten can be found there?”

He answered, “For the sake of ten, I will not destroy it.”

³³ When the LORD had finished speaking with Abraham, he left, and Abraham returned home.

When reading this exchange in text alone, it seems a little tedious: why does this conversation even happen? But in the illustrated “Genesis,” you can see Lot’s fear and desire to save the people of Sodom, and you can see him trying to bargain with God. It’s not deep theological exegesis, but it does help to connect with the story itself in a new, personal way.

And I’m also not even bothered by the “God is a old white guy with long white robes and white beard and white hair” depiction, as tired and cliche as that is.

No, my fundamental problem is that Crumb has decided to draw every female character in the entire book, despite whatever clothing she wears, with the nipples protruding though her comedic form-fitting desert attitire.

There is nudity elsewhere in the book — but it’s the overt sexual image of all the female characters that I feel depersonalize and fetishize them in a grotesque way (Which wouldn’t be out of place if you were to criticize his other work). For me, it’s too distracting and contributes to a nagging feeling that despite all the high minded principals Crumb laid forth in his introduction, he’s trying to pull a fast one on anyone that may take the book seriously in any way and secretly revels in his twisted depictions.

I simply feel disappointed by the potential that this book had to be a gritty and realistic illustration of “Genesis” — so much so that I couldn’t even finish it. While I did enjoy the dimension that illustration added to the text, I think I’ll instead try to hunt down more visual texts that may have a little more sincere intentions.

With that said, if someone who knows nothing about the God of Abraham and Jacob begins to learn about him through this book, I hope that they continue to learn more about him and yearn to find deeper meaning to their life. For those readers, I would suggest they take on Eugene Peterson’s version of the Bible, “The Message,” which is a contemporary interpretation meant more for “reading” and less for “study.” (Curious? Check out the entire book, available here on biblegateway.com).

Angels from the Realms of Glory

Angels from the realms of glory,
 Wing your flight o’er all the earth;
 Ye who sang creation’s story
 Now proclaim Messiah’s birth.

Shepherds, in the field abiding,
 Watching o’er your flocks by night,
 God with us is now residing;
 Yonder shines the infant light.

Sages, leave your contemplations,
 Brighter visions beam afar;
 Seek the great Desire of nations;
 Ye have seen His natal star.

Saints, before the altar bending,
 Watching long in hope and fear;
 Suddenly the Lord, descending,
 In His temple shall appear.

Click here to listen

Words: James Montgomery
Music: Tyrone Warner

The Coen brothers have returned with another stellar film, “A Serious Man,” following their two previous releases, “No Country for Old Men” and the celeb-packed “Burn After Reading.” This film, set in a 1960′s Minneapolis suburb featuring the most gorgeous mid-century modern furniture ever, follows the life of Larry, which goes from okay to mortally damned.

If you want to read the entire plot of the film, go check out it’s wikipedia page. It’s complicated, dense and somewhat jarring… and like what many reviews say, if you’re not Jewish, you’re going to miss out on a massive swath of humour and meaning.

Despite what I’ve read about the film, some things continue to puzzle me, and still haven’t found a decent explanation for.

1. “A Serious Man” is loosely based on the book of Job, a story about a man who is caught up in at bet of sorts between God and the Devil. Job looses everything, and despite the council he receives from his friends, and despite the bitterness and pain he feels, he does not turn away from God. So to me, it looks like Larry is Job, losing his family and his possessions and his health… simple. I’m still torn on the role of the rabbis, they are either Job’s friends or God himself in person form… if they are his friends, they are offering him useless advice that he doesn’t really take, or if they are God, he is asking them serious questions and not getting much of a response. Either way, I’m okay with that reading.

2. The ending. When Larry finally changes the grade to C- instead of F, within minutes he gets the urgent call from his doctor, and his son is moments away from being ripped out of the ground by a tornado. On one hand, this could be the continuing of Larry’s trials, or the way I see it as, which Larry actually gives up on God and living a “serious” and honest life, and changes the grade. Immediately after he changes the grade, God’s wrath manifests itself physically in his body and as a tornado, about to destroy his only son. Harsh.

3. The prologue. I admit that about 5 minutes into this, I was wondering if I had stumbled into the wrong theatre. In a way, it seems pretty simple. The visitor isn’t defined as being an evil spirit or a regular person (he’s listed as “?” in the credits), which works on the same principles of the theory relayed later in the film about Schrodinger’s cat.

Which leads to Larry’s massive physics diagrams about how you can specifically explain why you can’t actually know anything (and still be responsible for it). I think for a lot of religious people, Christians included, that from a certain philosophical standpoint, an unknowable deity or God cannot be rationally explained. It seems like a straightforward idea, and I like how it’s presented in “A Serious Man.”

If you have any ideas about the film, please share them… I’d love to hear it. It’s going to be a shame that I’ll likely have to wait until after Oscar season before anyone wants to talk about this I guessing.

Like most of my urban dwelling brethren, I’m pretty cut off from most mainstream Christian culture, especially culture born waaaay south of the border. Sure, downtown we love our Sufjan Stevens and Thrices, but most of the younger, young-ish and young-at-heart people I know are not really going to perk up when someone mentions “The Well.”

I don’t think it’s necessarily an attitude thing, nor a “we’re more sophisticated” type thing either… downtown, churches are more likely to be “plants,” store-fronts, locals, stuffy, alternative or traditional. Like our city, the church presence is very diverse.

But despite all that diversity, there’s not much in the way of Christian media in the core; there are hardly any “Christian” radio stations, there’s no “Michaels” (but we do have our Crux!), and most of all, we don’t have any mega-churches. And without that “large-group” environment, a lot of content, good and bad, passes on undetected. I think that easily explains why Rob Bell’s previous visit to Toronto was (by my impression) almost entirely attended by out-of-town 905ers and beyond.

OK, I’m way off topic here and I’m not planning on peeling back that thought any further for now.

So there’s this movie, “Fireproof,” which most people won’t look twice at, except for the fact that it’s probably the most popular, mainstream “Christian” movie today. Starring everyone’s favourite Evangelical punching bag, Kirk Cameron (yep, from “Growing Pains”), who plays a firefighter with a very Christian name, the very cheesy flick follows him as he takes on a “Love Dare” while trying to save his marriage.

“Rescue Me” it ain’t.

With a tag line of “Never Leave Your Partner Behind” (which you will of course hear in reference to fighting fires and in marriage), I won’t harp on the film too much, because it only cost half a million dollars to produce, and it ended up grossing over 33 million since its release last year.

Like I said before, it’s very cheesy, and at times the production can be amateur, but about halfway through the flick, it seems to get i’ts act together and become a real movie. Sure, it keeps mucking up it’s “Marriage is Fireproof” theme: love is a spark, fire threatens to burn your marriage down, lighting a fire = rekindling a romance; but despite my criticisms there, I will have to admit that this movie does have a great message.

At the heart of the film, it’s quite literally a lesson in love; there’s a “Love Dare” that Caleb takes, and yep, you can get a version of the love dare in book form. There’s speeches and long talks that feel like they’ve been born from a pulpit, and when Caleb’s dad discovers his unbelieving son lives near an old Christian summer camp, complete with firepit and wooden cross, you know that somebody’s going to be kneeling in front of it by the end of the movie. Even if they have a horrible “Georgia” accent (ahem, Cameron).

Despite my cynic attitude, there’s lots of things I enjoyed about the movie: It’s very “south,” with lots of drawl and male posturing, which at once feels real and down to earth, all the actors are more or less non-actors, which adds to the sincerity (Caleb’s mother actually looks like she could be someone’s mother. Much love to Ken Bevel as well, he was the best and most prominent non-actor in the movie, and he totally rocked it), and sometimes I wonder if all the cheesiness is intentional: giving couples who initially watch the movie together something to make fun of before they are truly bombarded by the sincere gospel message presented here.

Looking over the special features on the DVD, it gave me an extra appreciation that I wouldn’t have gotten just from the film itself. The outtakes show just how much fun they had shooting this mostly-depressing film, the moments where cast and crew pray before shooting every day is totally inspiring, and to hear about why the filmmakers took on this project were enlightening (basically they feel like marriage is under attack… however, it looks like they’re not going anywhere near the “gay marriage” issue here).

A point they make in the special features that I really appreciate, is that this is a film you don’t often see: It looks at people’s lives after they live “happily ever after” and before something “tragic and life changing” happens. It’s when the monotony of day to day life and unfulfilled dreams take root, and to the film’s credit, I applaud it for taking a realistic look at what that life experience is like.

So, if you’re a Christian, in a “Christian” marriage, or even have friends who are receptive to the gospel and maybe even having some marriage troubles, I would suggest “Fireproof” is worth a watch.

Other Interesting notes:

• Kirk Cameron, in lieu of payment, donated his paycheck to his favourite charity, Camp Firefly
• From what I can tell, pretty much everyone involved in the film is a volunteer
• Apparently Kirk Cameron refuses to kiss any other woman, even on screen, so in Fireproof, when his character does kiss his wife, its Kirks wife dressed up as the main character
• Every location the film shot at was provided without payment required
• Every “house” scene was shot in the same house

Maybe it’s the music industry, maybe it’s something private, or maybe it’s just rebelling against his youth, but whatever sparked it, it seems like David Bazan’s transition from Doubting Thomas to agnostic is complete.

Through his poetry, Bazan has always wrestled with the church, it’s believers and it’s practices, and that’s what has drawn so many people to Pedro the Lion over the years. And whatever Christian-related content that drew people in, Bazan provided just enough antidote to keep those listeners in check.

The band’s first record was released in 1997 on the so-called Christian punk record label “Tooth and Nail” in 1997. The “Whole EP” (say it out loud a couple of times) begins with a song called “Nothing,” which introduces the listener to a man who embraces philosophy over morals and rules. At one point, he says “It’s just not true, that there’s only one way.”

The EP then goes on to that character developing a drug habit (“Fix”), trying to kick it (the excellent “Almost There”), then seeing a friend who overcame his addiction thanks to “Mr. Hole-fixing man” (“Whole”). That album concludes with “Lullaby,” which has become an anthem for modern Christian life. I love this song so much, that I’m going to include some of the lyrics here:

Sun shines, and leaves blow and my hope like autumn is turning brown.
I know it seems like I’m always falling down.
And it does not matter to me, although it seems like it should.
It’s because I know I’m understood, when I hear him say…

“Rest in me little David, and dry all your tears, you can lay down your armour and have no fear.
Cause I’m always here when you’re tired of running, and I’m all the strength that you need.”

“Lullaby” is followed by an instrumental, “Hymn,” and it’s all over. Ever since I first heard this song almost 10 years ago, I still need that instrumental track to fully recover from “Lullaby.” Personally, I imagine the “David” here as King David, and how he would converse with God, but it’s easy to hear this and believe you are listening to some of David Bazan’s most honest, powerful and uplifting songs ever.

But ever since “Whole EP,” David has been fighting against that sentiment as hard as he can… I’ve read that in the past, he’d be playing his songs and people would be having intense emotional reactions, while he wasn’t feeling anything, and was uncomfortable with manipulating people like that.

With his next record, “It’s Hard to Find a Friend,” you can hear that instead of embracing this kind of cathartic narrative, he instead explores new stories and characters, like the memorable father and son exchange in “Big Trucks,” the man who finds out his girlfriend has been cheating on him in “Bad Diary Days,” and the guy who has a problem with natural beauty in “When They Really Get To Know You They Will Run.” But there’s still religious material as well, like “Of Minor Prophets and Their Prostitute Wives,” a retelling of the obscure Old Testament book Hosea. Then finally, the album’s finest moment, “Secret of the Easy Yoke,” featuring a man who feels unmoved and annoyed by his friends and their seemingly perfect devotion. However, by the end of the song he’s turned to “Peace be still,” a mantra of simple confirmation and encouragement.

(Yes, there was “Promise” originally at the end of this record, but supposedly Bazan was told to add an uplifting song to the end of the record, and on the re-release in 2001 was left off.)

In his next record, the EP entitled “The Only Reason I Feel Secure (Is That I’m Validated By My Peers)” he returned to the more introspective side of his writing, peaking with a beautiful rendition of “Be Thou My Vision.” From there things turned rather dark, with the warning of the powers of sex and power and murder in “Winners Never Quit,” a story of two brothers: the “good” Christian who is secretly bad (and murders his wife then commits suicide), and his “bad” Christian brother who is arrested while driving drunk and goes to jail. “Bad Things To Such Good People,” the final song from the brother in jail, describes the arrogance of his father and contains a somewhat controversial line: “All the while, the good Lord smiles and looks the other way.” You could interpret it as the Lord is simply forgiving both the father and the son in jail of their sins, or you could also look at it as the Lord is simply letting chaos reign in their life and doing nothing about it. (Starting to sound a little like what Bazan is saying in “Curse Your Branches,” right?)

Actually, for a good statement of where Bazan was at around the time of “Winners Never Quit,” check out this great interview here.

Then there’s the amazing rock record, “Control,” easily Bazan’s most distressing record, which tackles infidelity, global warming and modernization. While he was merely baiting his Christian listeners in “Winners Never Quit,” in this record he finally tells them to buzz off with “Rapture,” a song about an adulterous couple having dirty motel room sex and one screams out “Oh my sweet rapture, I hear Jesus and the angels singing Hallelujah, calling in me to enter the promised land.” Later in “Priests and Paramedics,” a priest at a funeral for the adulterous man gives his people gather a bitter pill: “You’re gonna die. We’re all gonna die. Could be twenty years, could be tonight. And lately I have been wondering why we go to so much trouble to postpone the unavoidable and prolong the pain of being alive.”

“Control” then adds a question mark in it’s oft-debated finale, “Rejoice,” which says “Wouldn’t it be so wonderful if everything were meaningless. But everything is so meaningful and most everything turns to shit. Rejoice.”

Following that, David seems content to slowly go darker and more skeptical, all kind of staying in this ambiguous Christian world viewpoint, like on “Achilles Heel” and the synth-only record, “The Headphones,” throwing in the occasional four or seven letter world to rankle his critics.

However, with his first full album under his own name, I feel like things are a lot different. Things are personal again, however, it seems like the sarcasm has been replaced with vitriol and anger. “Hard to Be” kicks things off with an indictment of the creation story as a Christian’s excuse for misbehaviour, and ends with his graduation from “believer” to “non-believer.”  There’s “Bless this Mess,” which either celebrates the inversion of popular Christian parables (the wheat and the chaff, the candle under a bushel), or celebrates those who flaunt them. “Harmless Sparks” takes on pedophile priests and inserts a confession of his own doubt and it again conflicts with his family. “When We Fell” indicts the threat of Hell as motivation for belief. In “Bearing Witness” he’s sick of “making the pieces fit” and in “Heavy Breath” he reassures his God-fearing friends that life without him isn’t any different.

The album ends with “In Stitches,” which instead of reaffirming anything, seems to confirm David’s agnostic attitude. He’s still talking to his God, but like the entire album all along, it’s in the tone of talking to someone who has been betrayed by an ex-lover. (A common description of “Curse Your Branches” is that it’s David Bazan’s “break up album” with God).

I’ve been thinking about it, and to me, from a lyrical point of view, it seems like David has finally turned into the character he voiced in “Nothing” way back in 1997 on the “Whole EP.” Happier to go his own his own way, and giving up the struggle of belief.

I’ll admit that I don’t know David personally, and I don’t what’s really in his heart. For all I know that this is just a natural progression of his writing, and his relationship with God is his own business, so I don’t want to come across as judging him for what he’s chosen to believe. I don’t even want to go into the whole alcoholism thing either, despite it being such a large presence in his songs, because again, I don’t need to be judgmental of that (especially when I see my own struggle with that as well).

I guess after being such an intense fan, and hanging on much longer than a lot of my other Christian brothers, I don’t think I can hold David’s songs as close as I once did. I’m still totally in awe of his talent, and I’ve been forever changed by his writing, but “Curse Your Branches” seems to be the album at which when I have to keep his music out of reaching distance. It’s not enough that I can recognize that I disagree with much of what he has to say, because I’ve been to all the places he visits here. I personally want to move past those places, so while I appreciate and respect what he’s done, I can’t dwell in it like other albums he’s done.

However, part of me also knows that if I give up on him now, I might miss out on him coming around to the final “Lullaby” chapter in his records, which is just a too glorious prospect. Johnny Cash and Mike Knott worked in similar circles, so anything is possible, right?

(As a post-script, I know there’s so much more I could talk about here too, like the Christmas EPs, his relationships with other “Christian” artists like Damien Jurado, but this is sprawling enough already).

(As another post-script, is that I wanted to note that I’ve had the pleasure of seeing him perform many times over the years: Opening for Low at Lee’s Palace, rocking out the Horseshoe a couple times with TW Walsh, playing Buffalo with Starflyer 59, another Buffalo set done completely solo at the Mohawk, a solo show at the Music Gallery, a solo show in Seattle at the Crocodile Cafe with Damien Jurado and Ben Gibbard, and his return to Lee’s Palace with a full band in tour for “Curse Your Branches.” Whatever he does, I’ll still continue to come out to the shows, because they are always powerful experiences.)

(As one final post-script, I have to point out something funny Matt McKechnie wrote about me on his blog, taken from the last Bazan show at Lee’s, “I saw my friend Tyrone (of Silver Speakers) standing stage left with the look of an awed child meeting Santa Claus.”)