Star Wars. Spoilers. Obviously.

I saw the new Star Wars today.

(If you liked it, you may not want to continue reading.)

So back when they announced it, I thought it was a bad idea.

Good for the studio, of course, because they would make a ton of money even if it was terrible.

But bad for everyone who loves Star Wars because there was no way it could live up to the astronomical expectations.

Then the teaser came out. I still thought it was a bad idea. It didn't feel like Star Wars to me.

How is Star Wars supposed to feel?

I can't quantify it. Not fair or helpful, I know. But I was worried then that the people who made the movie would be too blinded by what had gone before to create something new but still wonderful.

Then the full trailer came out. I started to feel hopeful. It reminded me of what I loved about the movies.

Either way, there really wasn't any chance of me NOT seeing this movie. Which I resented because I knew Disney was banking on that and would be tempted to be lazy about actually making a good story.

Anyway. I saw it this morning.

I was really hoping I'd like it.

And there were parts I did like. Rey was cool. Finn was funny, if a little whiny on the order of Luke in A New Hope. BB-8 is adorable. Poe is pretty much The Most Interesting Man in the Universe.

But I didn't like enough of it. They spent an inordinate amount of time on Jakku. I almost laughed out loud the first time Kylo Ren spoke. (And then he took off his helmet and I did laugh. Can you say 'horribly miscast?') I looked at my watch after the first hour trying to figure out why it was taking so long. The Starkiller thing really didn't make sense to me. The plot didn't make sense to me. The ending (and the death) was extremely predictable. There were these long, lingering pauses on characters' faces that were supposed to be significant, but just looked like everyone had gas.

And then I realized that J.J. Abrams had done to Star Wars exactly what he did to Star Trek. It was exactly like the original, but different.

Here's the plot of A New Hope: Rebel leader hides plans in droid to doomsday device. Droid hooks up with desert dweller who is secret Jedi. They escape the planet with the help of a lovable rogue. At some point, a girl is rescued. Secret plans get to the Rebellion. The lovable rogue decides to leave, but ends up fighting for the good guys. The doomsday device has a fatal flaw that can be exploited by a guy in an x-wing. The beloved mentor dies in order to inspire his mentee. The doomsday device explodes inexplicably loudly for being in space.

Here's the plot of The Force Awakens: See above. Same, but different.

I've seen this movie before. I liked it before. I didn't need to see it again.

I understand Hollywood's love of sequels. It's easy to make money on something people are already familiar with.

But I expect a movie to be self-contained. It still has to have a plot that makes sense, and while it can reference what has gone before, I shouldn't need to know all of that to enjoy the movie. There was both too little and too much at the same time. Too little of the good stuff. Too much of the wrong things.

The nostalgia in this one felt cheap. Instead of smiling when the Millennium Falcon appeared, I just thought, "Really? Of all the planets, it happened to be here? That's an awfully big coincidence you're selling."

Same with Han and Leia. And Luke. They are old. And except for Han, they haven't aged well. It took me right out of the movie magic. And seriously, is there no one else in the universe to follow? The inbreeding is a little ridiculous.

Anyway, it felt like JarJar Abrams was saying, "See, I gave you Han Solo and Chewbacca. Now you have to love the new people I created."

The new people who are exactly like the old people. Kylo Ren is Darth Vader lite. Snoke (really?) is an unfathomable version of the Emperor. Hex or whatever is a poor imitation of Tarkin. And what was the purpose of Phasma? She couldn't even pull off Boba Fett levels of cool.

And don't get me started on the barely veiled reference to Hitler.

I really think Harrison Ford is glad he got killed off. He can see where this franchise is headed, and he is jumping ship while his death can still mean something.

Is it time for Captain America: Civil War yet?

(I'm sorry. I didn't hate it. Really I didn't. I just didn't like it.)

Back when I first started funding, I was actually really excited about it. I had enthusiasm, I had drive. I knew academically that it would be hard, but I knew that God was calling me to missions, so it would happen.

At the first church where I spoke, I met with great response. People were interested in what I was doing, and one person in particular offered to head up a prayer team. I had a team of people who promised to pray for me and encourage me and keep me accountable. I counted on that individual to keep things going.

It lasted about two weeks.

Problem is, it took me a couple of months to figure out that things weren't moving. And by that time, there was a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

So my own excitement was cut to the quick.

I need to reignite that passion. I think I'm getting there. But I need your help. 

Five Years. Really?

(The following is a speech I will give, am giving, gave - depending on when you read this - at my five-year recognition chapel at OMS. If you'd rather hear it, I'm sure I'll post a link to it somewhere. There's a ton more I could talk about after five years, and I probably will in the blog soon. For now, enjoy.)

All right. Here we go.

I've been struggling with what to say on this, the fifth plus a bit anniversary of my time at OMS, ever since Kathy told me about it back in August. 

Okay, if you know me, you know that's not entirely accurate. I've been freaking out about it ever since I learned we do this kind of thing at OMS.

So, about five years. 

I've asked quite a few people what I should talk about today. Some were helpful. Some were not. I credit Foster Pilcher with the idea of writing a blog post and just reading that. So I did. Incidentally, if you'd like to read along, this posted about ten minutes ago. becausehislovecompelsus.blogspot.com

Five years ago, I started working here. But the journey really started about seven and a half years ago when I traveled to Sierra Leone, West Africa. On that trip, as I looked out over the city of Freetown, I felt that God was telling me that my future would involve missions of some kind. Six months later, I was interviewing with OMS.

I'll be honest. It took me a while to figure this place out. Y'all are holiness people, and as a rule, you're a little more touchy-feely than I'm used to. I also come from a denomination that historically has had a fairly narrow definition of the word 'missionary.' There are some people who do not consider what we do in HQ to be missionary work. That's something I've had to overcome both personally and professionally. 

So, two years. That's what I promised God. I'll do this mission thing for two years, and then I'll move on to The Plan. If you're not following along, The Plan is capitalized. I like Plans. I like routine, I like knowing what the next thing is. My Birkman is quite clear on this. 

So imagine my surprise when I reached the end of that two years and thought, "You know, I think I could do another year." You're smiling, but this was by no means a sure thing. 

Before we get to that, though, there are two things I need to highlight about those two years, and they actually happened within months of each other. First, I traveled to Thailand and South Asia in April 2011. Mike Dragon said last week that the first thing they do when you visit South Asia is break your heart. And he's right. I honestly didn't know how to deal with that trip. So I did the worst thing possible and shut down. I still have trouble talking about it. 

Then, in June of 2011, still not quite recovered, I went to Poland. And yes, I went for ministry purposes, but I want to talk about the day I spent in Auschwitz and Birkenau. 

I'm a history major. No matter what else I do in this life, I will always identify as a historian. And I had a lot of head knowledge about the Holocaust before this trip. I knew the numbers, I had seen the photos, I heard eyewitness accounts. 

But now I was walking where it happened. I saw the barracks designed for horses that instead housed hundreds of people. I saw desperate words scrawled on the walls of death chambers. I saw rooms of suitcases, shoes, and human hair stolen from millions of people. 

Needless to say, it was pretty impactful.

I came away from those trips with three things made abundantly clear. 

1. Satan is very real. 

2. It is a lot easier to serve evil than it is to do good.

3. We have hope. 

That last one may seem a little incongruous with the others. And it may seem hard to come away from a place like Auschwitz feeling hopeful. Even South Asia might seem like a stretch.

But for as difficult as a place like South Asia is, the Gospel is advancing. One of the things I vividly recall is standing on the shore watching dozens of people be baptized. It's a pretty incredible sight, made all the more remarkable when you know that persecution is not just a buzzword for these people. It's a reality. When I got off the plane in the capital, there was a notable oppression of spirit. I could almost feel the enemy working. But that just means he's scared. Satan doesn't have to work hard when he knows he's in control of a place.

Which brings us to Auschwitz. People talk about that place as though they can almost hear the cries of victims. And it is admittedly creepy to walk through the gas chambers. But mostly, I felt empty. I felt like I was seeing the pinnacle of evil. Like Satan had gotten things started and then let humanity take over, and this is what they achieved.

But I was talking about hope. And as we know from history, the Allies won. People realized what they were capable of. And for a little while, people pursued righteousness. Auschwitz now stands as a memorial and as a symbol of things that should never happen again.

Okay, so I sometimes go off on these rants on my blog. I apologize.

Let's go back to that third year. I finally felt like I was fitting in, or at least my brand of crazy was appreciated. So naturally, things started going wrong. I was in a pretty severe depression for several months. And I need to address this because we don't talk about depression much in Christian circles. I understand that. I don't really want to talk about it myself. But I talked to a counselor at my church about it, and she very nicely handed me a pamphlet that said my depression was a sign that I probably had a secret sin or that I wasn't close enough to Jesus. I'm here to tell you that the only reason I made it through is because I was desperately clinging to Jesus. He gave me hope that I would get out of the valley. And I eventually did.

I was pretty sure I'd be leaving OMS after three years, which was extremely disappointing. I felt like I was becoming the best version of myself here, and I didn't know how that would translate in the wider world. My Plan had changed, and I didn't like that.

But then I was offered a beacon of hope. A chance to stay for one more year. I'm not going to lie. It was a hard year. I was frustrated. I felt like I was losing whatever perspective I'd gained. So when the year was up, I was finally ready to leave. I had begged God for two more years. And now I was begging to move on.

It really looked like it was going to happen, too. My contract was up, I'd applied elsewhere, and yet every time I went to pack up my things, I'd hit a wall. It felt wrong.

And then ECC came calling. And I knew God was telling me to stay. I would officially be at OMS for a full five years. It's been a long road. I don't know how you guys focus on just one thing that happened. Five years is a long time.

But if I had to narrow it down to one lesson, that lesson would be hope. I'm a pretty cynical person. I will pretty much always see the worst-case scenario. But I have also become a hopeful person. And the source of my hope is and always will be Jesus Christ. I have been redeemed, and that gives me hope for the rest of the world. If even one third of the people we reach with our one billion opportunity gives their life to Jesus, can you imagine what that would do to the world?

I don't know where I will be five years from now. I'd love to be back up here, sharing my special brand of eccentricity and failing to concentrate on just one thing about the next five years. But wherever I am, I hope that I'm bringing hope to others. That's my new Plan.

Before I leave, I want to publicly thank a few people for getting me through the last five years. To my parents, for your unwavering support and for letting me cry on your shoulders, thank you. To my sisters, who gave me their own special brand of encouragement, thanks, I guess. To Lori McFall, for being a second mom, a sister, and a best friend rolled into one, thank you. To Sam Downey, for being a port in a stormy sea, thank you. To all of you, for sharing in my journey, thank you. And to God, for giving me exactly what I need when I need it, whether I like it or not, thank you. 

The Late Now

I haven't posted much lately. (I know, I know. Way to state the obvious, Jessica.)

I'd like to say I have really great reasons for not writing anything.

I could say that I've been traveling. Which is true. I went to Pennsylvania last weekend for a missions conference at a little church outside of Gettysburg. I love this church. Our two contact people are the sweetest old ladies. And they love to take care of us. And when I'm there, it's pretty much guaranteed that I'll get to visit the battlefield. For the twenty-sixth time. (I haven't counted, actually. But it's a lot.)

I could say that I've been busy. Which is sort of true. I'm in training to learn more of the production process of T&M. I've been working on the Christmas video. When I'm not at work, I'm usually walking or watching TV.

I could say that I have nothing to write about. This is both true and not true. There are things I could write about. But they have little to do with mission stuff. And that's why I created this blog. To talk about my ministry and life in missions.

Here's what my life in missions looks like: I sit at a computer for eight hours a day. I do roughly the same things every day. It's very technical and complicated. Occasionally, I hear a great message in chapel. And I usually write something based on those. But I am by no means on the front lines. There are things I'd like to do. But those things cost money. And funding has been extremely difficult lately.

So why haven't I written anything? The truth is simple.

I feel uninspired. I feel redundant. I feel like everything I might want to say has been said by other people in much better ways. I feel like some things I want to say would get me into trouble. I'm tired and lacking in purpose. And I really don't think anyone is reading this. Except for you, Lori. Which I appreciate.

Shockingly enough, I'm not depressed.

I'm just living life. And the day to day is just not that interesting.

I have some pending drafts that I'll start rolling out shortly. And then I don't know.

I need some ideas. I need inspiration. I need...

Something.

A Random Tuesday

How do my days usually progress? I'll tell you. Or at least, I'll tell you about today.

My alarm went off at 6:40. I'd been having this weird dream about a hotel by a river and trying to find someone who owed me $4.

I hit snooze. There's no excuse for being up at 6:40.

Nine minutes later, I figure I'm obligated to get up. First thing I do is check my phone for the overnight happenings. A few news alerts and a text from Arika, asking way too deep a philosophical question for 6:49 in the morning. But I answer, and it makes sense to my brain, so good enough.

I don't wash my hair on Tuesdays. It gives me a little extra time for morning ablutions, and also morning devotions. Sarah Young makes her usual frightening amount of sense. I hang out at the kitchen table and ponder life's mysteries.

It's 7:50. Getting dressed might be important. I have to wear blue today. Normally, a few of us in ECC will try to match. I get a text every morning. But my matchy buddies are in South Africa this week. I still have to wear blue. We're filming today.

I get to work about 8:03. First thing is to fire up the computer. While it's coming up, I check the ECC box in the mailroom. Nothing. Then a pen and new post-its from central supply.

I check my email. Two Gmail accounts and the main Office 365. Naturally, 365 isn't working. Shocking. Reload. Nothing has come into the T&M account, and it's mostly junk everywhere else. I check Facebook. I'm friends with T&M partners and people who are traveling. Things are going well. I schedule a post on the T&M page.

It's 8:55. Time for chapel. There's usually coffee and hot chocolate for people to get before or after. I don't usually like hot drinks, but as the weather cools, you can see me with a hot chocolate.

Today's chapel speaker is Graham Houghton. Graham has been in India for 50 years, and he always has great stories. And a very unique way of telling them. He retired once. It didn't take. He's 78 and ministering in North India. There are encouraging things happening, but there is also a great deal of darkness.

Chapel normally lasts until 9:30 or 9:40. Graham finishes at 9:55. We still have announcements and introductions. We pray for a missionary leaving for Hungary tomorrow.

10:05. Back in the office. I do a bit of cleaning up and then start working on my article for Outreach magazine. It's about the history of prayer at OMS.

10:45. Time to do a bit of walking. Since we started the wellness program, I've been endeavoring to get at least 10,000 steps every day. It's also not good to sit for too long. I have a route through the building, starting by going through Communications. Lori and Susan are talking about the magazine. I chat with Beth for a minute. Then upstairs. There are a lot of people out. But there are muffins at the front desk. Score.

Back downstairs. 11:00. More research for the article. I've copied articles and notices from old Missionary Standard archives. I'm only up to 1946. Sometimes I forget OMS has been around more than 100 years. Not today.

11:40. I check my phone and see that I have a voicemail. There is pretty much no service in the basement, so I never hear my phone ring. I just randomly have messages. It's Arby's. I did a survey this weekend, and they have follow-up questions. But when I call back, there's no answer.

12:10. Time for lunch. But first - oh look, Arby's called again. Free food! I've never been so happy to have undercooked chicken. (Okay, I wasn't that happy. But Arby's is cool for following up.)

12:18. NOW I can go to lunch.

We have an hour for lunch. I used 20 minutes of it to walk. That gets me to about 5,500 steps on the day. I'm ahead of schedule.

The fare today is chicken salad. It's cheap and easy to make, which pretty much describes most of what I eat. I'm spending any extra money I have on fruits and veggies. They're healthy, you know.

1:20. Back at work. Foster has been in, judging by the ladder in the middle of my office. We'll use it in a few minutes when we start filming.

We're doing a top secret project for the OMS Christmas party. It's been a lot of fun (and a lot of work), but the secrecy has probably been the most fun. People keep asking what we're doing. We maintain the cone of silence.

It took about eight takes for me to be happy with today's segment. By the time we finished, it was time to welcome the myriad of superheroes, knights, and various and sundry costumed (or not) children so they could extort candy from the hardworking folks of OMS.

I'm kidding, it was adorable. We do this every year. OMS kids come around to the marked offices and receive candy or treats or whatever. It's a safe way to trick or treat, and though it's a bit early, it is a nice thing we do.

It does kinda disrupt the workflow, though.

I spent some time looking up a word for the #WeirdWordoftheWeek segment I do on Facebook. It's a silly little thing, but it's fun for me. This week's word is carminative.

Onward and upward. With infrequent visitors, I continued working, this time on the ECC blog posts for the OMS website.

Around 4:10, I take another gallivant around the office. I get sidetracked in Communications (which happens frequently) to talk about ramen and the filming for tomorrow (separate issues). Then I continue, stopping to compare everyone's offerings. Lots of good stuff this year. Oh, to be a kid again.

Back to the office and work at 4:35.

5:10. Time to go home.

Immediately, I get ready for my long walk. This has become a staple of my day. It finishes up the rest of my 10,000 steps and gets the kinks out. Usually lasting anywhere from 30-50 minutes, today's is about 35, putting me well over my goal.

Dinner is frozen pizza and grapes. Highly nutritious. I watch an episode of Air Crash Investigation while I'm waiting. It's the one with the pilot who gets sucked outside of the airplane and is only held inside by flight stewards. It's a really fascinating series, and there are a ton of episodes on YouTube. I wouldn't recommend watching too many in a row or right before a trip. Very interesting stuff, though. And the pilot lived!

The show turns out to be a little too interesting. I watch at least six more episodes while playing mahjong.

And now it's 10:45. I've been dinking around on Facebook for 30 minutes. Not a very productive evening. But it was a relaxing evening. Just what I needed.

And that's a random Tuesday. 

Everything, in a Random and Roundabout Manner, Leads to Death

I talk to myself. A lot.

Shocking, I know.

Sometimes, I'm writing a book in my head, and I need to say it out loud to see if the dialogue is stupid. It usually is.

More often than not, I'm creating scenarios and figuring out how I would respond in a given situation.

Because I have traveled overseas, and because I am a Christian, a lot of those scenarios deal with being kidnapped or martyred or tortured.

Do I overthink things? Yes. Yes, I do.

Here's the thing, though. It's easy to plan for the big moments. (It's less easy to execute said plans. But I have a plan for that!) It is not so easy to plan for the small moments.

Think about it. You're in front of the Roman emperor or his proxy, and you're told to deny your faith or die. That's a big moment. It's obvious. You can plan for that moment.

But maybe you're with a friend. And the friend tells an off-color joke. No substance to it whatsoever. No redeeming quality to the vulgarity. But it's kinda funny. Can you plan for those moments?

When I was much younger, I thought a lot about martyrdom. (I had just read Foxe's Book of Martyrs. Can you really blame me?) And because I did not yet fully understand the difference between saved by grace and saved by works, I considered martyrdom to be the only surefire way to prove that I was a good Christian. I mean, dying for Jesus? That's gold.

My thinking has evolved since then, thankfully. But the idea of martyrdom has stuck with me, especially since becoming a missionary. Then this morning, OMS President Bob Fetherlin gave this message. (Go ahead. Listen to it. I'll wait.)

And everything clicked.

The Christian life may indeed end in the type of martyrdom we all know and love. But even before that point, life is a series of martyrdoms. It has to be.

That's ultimately how you can plan for the small moments. If you are continuously dying to self, denying your need to be right, relinquishing your pride, all in the pursuit of being more like Jesus, you will be a martyr - maybe not in the way it is now understood, but definitely at its heart as a witness for Jesus Christ.

See, the word martyr comes from the Greek martur. It means witness.

We should all be martyrs. We should all be witnesses of Jesus.

And whatever death that martyrdom ultimately leads to - death to self or death by opponents of Christ - it will always lead us straight to the arms of Jesus.

And that is always a good thing. 

The Humorous Chesterton

"I believe firmly in the value of all vulgar notions, especially vulgar jokes. When once you have got hold of a vulgar joke, you may be certain that you have got hold of a subtle and spiritual idea. The men who made the joke saw something deep which they could not express except by something sully and emphatic. They saw something delicate which they could only express by something indelicate." - G.K. Chesterton

I have always liked this quote. I'm not sure I could tell you all the reasons why. It's very twisty.

But G.K. and I had something in common. We both overanalyze everything.

G wrote this in his short story "Cockneys and their Jokes." He's responding the charge of not being a Cockney humorist. What is a humorist? Honestly, I'm not sure G explained it, though he took great pains to explain that, while he agreed he probably wasn't a humorist, he was most definitely Cockney, jerkface. Anyway, a humorist is someone who is skillful in the use of humor, whether it be written, spoken, or acted.

See, Chesterton knew that most people really don't understand humor. What makes one person laugh may not even crack a smile on someone else. Apparently a friend of Chesterton named Mr. Beerbohm put the things that made people laugh into three categories: "jokes about bodily humiliation, jokes about things alien, such as foreigners, and jokes about bad cheese." 

That, in itself, is hilarious. 

But G wanted to delve deeper into why we laugh at certain things. We don't laugh at someone's true misfortune. But we do laugh when a bird suddenly doodoos on someone's head. We don't laugh at leaves falling. That's what they do. But leaves falling and sticking to someone's forehead is funny. Or at least amusing. 

So what exactly is G saying above? It's not enough to be haha funny. You also have to be a little bit vulgar. 

So what does he mean by vulgar? Not obscene, as the word is used today. To be vulgar means to be unrefined or common. If you aren't willing to get your feet a little dirty, you'll never understand true humor. 

A good joke, G.K. would say, is one that deals with the Dual Nature of Man. As he says, it "refer[s] to the primary paradox that man is superior to all the things around him and yet is at their mercy." We laugh at something because it works against the reality of how things are supposed to work. 

It goes deeper than that, though. Sometimes, we can't explain something higher without using more common language. In fact, in order to explain some things, we need to first (or at some point) explain their opposite. It's impossible to fully understand light without having some notion of dark. We understand hate because it is an absence of love. 

I don't know why I keep trying to explain this. G-diddy said it best:

"As a matter of fact, it will be generally found that the popular joke is not true to the letter, but is true to the spirit. The vulgar joke is generally in the oddest way the truth and yet not the fact. For instance, it is not in the least true that mothers-in-law are as a class oppressive and intolerable; most of them are both devoted and useful. All the mothers-in-law I have ever had were admirable. Yet the legend of the comic papers is profoundly true. It draws attention to the fact that it is much harder to be a nice mother-in-law than to be nice in any other conceivable relation of life. The caricatures have drawn the worst mother-in-law a monster, by way of expressing the fact that the best mother-in-law is a problem."

I've said it before. I'll keep saying it. 

I will take truth from whomever and wherever I find it. 

There are some amazing messages to be found in R-rated films. I can find Truth in an Eminem song. 

And those may be exceptions to the rule. I'm not going to tell you to consume all of the truly awful stuff just for one nugget of Truth. Some stuff out there is truly not worth the film or paper on which it is printed. 

But do recognize that not all vulgarity is necessarily bad. Sometimes it can be necessary to be a little vulgar in order to find a pearl. 

But I don't know. What do you think?

(There will be a follow-up post about this as soon as I get around to writing it.)