"Stop the winter, please."
"Don't you see? I can't."
We don't actually have winter weather in Malaysia, but it's around winter time now for the Northern Hemisphere. And I like the idea of winter as a metaphor.
December is here, along with an apparent low temperature in the spiritual climate of me and my spiritual siblings. I'm feeling like Napoleon and Hitler, both of whom met defeat at the hands of the Russians in winter battle. How are you supposed to fight well when the ice and snow viciously lags you in your tracks?
First it was the drama class farewell. I'm "graduating" from the class this year, despite the fact that I did not return to it for an entire year. I was incredibly puffed up by the amount of people who said that they admired and liked me. More importantly, they gave me a very strong sense of identity, during a time when I felt slightly unsure of my standing before God. They drew a picture of a Joshua who's likeable, talented, creative, calm, speaks English, and sleeps a lot (?). It was so much easier for me to reach out and claim that identity than to fight my sin and admit my spiritual poverty before God. So I seemed to play along during those hours.
Then there was the children's camp at our church. Seriously, my conscience was struck unconscious for those three days. I was aware of the watered-down Gospel-preaching by many teachers, the carnal means used to keep the children interested, the weak spiritual condition of the staff, and the lack of serious planning for the follow-up of those children. Yet, I felt almost nothing then. I just played along.
In the words of Albus Dumbledore: "Dark times lie ahead of us and there will be a time when we must choose between what is easy and what is right."
We want to change, thank God. And by the power of the Lord who moves, we shall.
For the time being, one of our great godsends in such an hour is the calm, steady voice of Dr. Samuel Ling, as we listen to his introductory theology course on MP3. Perhaps due to my own childishness, his words do not instantly stir up a flame in my heart when I listen to him speak, like the way other speakers do. He is not monotone, but he is also not dramatic.
Yet, even though what we've been listening to in the past few weeks we have already heard before, the impression the lessons make upon me is... well, impressive. They slowly and steadily shift me into a mode of mentality where I begin to see the world through Biblical lenses. And subsequently, that brings an increasing sense of peace, because the worldview given to us in the Bible sets us in a position of humility and trust.
Again, my undying love and support for high, solid theology is because I see it as bone structure for the flesh and foundation for the shelter. All the talk about "relevance" is nonsense, and comes from a selfish perspective; of course sinners will only find relevant things that fit their self-serving ideas. The Bible's grand view of things, however, points to a glorious, transcendent God whom we will find joy in seeking and worshiping for all eternity.
I've heard Dr. Steve Lawson say before, "The power is in the message, not the messenger." Somehow I couldn't bring myself to believe it then, but those words stuck with me like a thorn, until I slowly came to accept it as true. And I couldn't find a better example to demonstrate it than Dr. Sam's "boring" classes.
I just watched Disney's latest animated feature, "Frozen". I was really impressed, and so are much of the critics. But I'm not here to note its artistic merit, or I would've written many more blog posts.
I'm writing about it because 15 minutes in, I started to tear up. Because of a Disney movie. Seriously.
Elsa seems to be the only Disney character I could relate to. Her ability to create ice is effectively an embodiment for her personality: she is cool, silent, and rigid. She finds comfort in isolation, where she can "let it go" and do whatever she wants to.
The film probably intends to use Elsa's magical powers as a representation of certain talents that unusual people have and that must be harnessed for good, however this does not parallel my similarities with the character. Her motivation for isolation is a strange, hidden talent. My motivation for it is my sin, my desire to be emotionally invulnerable. But doing so paradoxically made me the most vulnerable person I know.
But it was not seeing Elsa's loneliness that coaxed the tears. It was that she had to shut Anna out.
"Do you want to build a snowman?"
I can't decide which is worse, being shut out, or having to shut people out.
I was reminded of the Annas that God put in my life. I don't know what I would do if they didn't knock on my door. And quite frequently, I ran, thinking that it was the solution, that I could actually make their lives and mine separate by isolating myself. But to not love is to hate; Elsa could not change the influence she had on people by going away. (Also, what did she eat when she was alone in the mountains?)
I disliked the movie's resolution of things. But of course, I couldn't expect any real answers from secularists. The movie provided love as an answer to fear, which I readily agree with, but a source of love was not provided. The characters themselves had the potential for love, and it all depended upon the choice to do so. That's where my empathy for Elsa ended. She says "love" and magically melts the ice. I say "love", and my words are as empty as my heart.
The movie realistically presented a real human issue, but ended with presenting an empty solution.
Oh Christ, the fountain of love. Pour the understanding of Your love onto me.
And thank You for being the best Anna. When I wouldn't open the door, You kicked it in, took my cold embrace and made it warm.
And every day You knock. And every day you remain a model for the other Annas who knock.
"Some people are worth melting for."
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