losing neverland

Last night Jenn and I watched a movie I really knew nothing about: Finding Neverland. The tale, inspired by actual events, follows playwright James M. Barrie as he struggles through failure in the theater as well as his marriage. But he meets a widow and her four sons, and through their friendship and adventures his imagination is inspired to create one of the most beloved stories ever told, Peter Pan.

The most vivid and moving parts of the story are when Barrie, played with a perfect brogue by Johnny Depp, takes moments of play with the four boys and uses imagination to fly them off to wonderful new lands. His imagination in full tilt, he ends his days with his pen and paper, writing notes, setting scenes, and letting the muse run wild.

One of the most un-anticipated scenes comes on the night of Peter Pan’s opening, when Barrie saves 25 seats for orphan children to sit and watch the show among the rich and powerful elite of society. Their laughter and amazement spreads through the audience, and the show is a huge success.

But the story also heals the heart of a broken boy and a sick mother… but I don’t want to give the whole thing away.

I do have to admit that I haven’t teared up in a movie like that probably since they shot Old Yeller when I was a little kid. But more than just a great movie with a strong emotional tug, the story said something about our Story of Salvation.

Imagine for a moment if Barrie had taken what was happening with these children and simply wrote a self-help book on “How to Live a Child-like Life.” Better yet, picture what it would be like if after seeing any version of the Peter Pan story, some started writing books and giving talks on “The Peter Pan Steps to a Successful and Happy Life,” or maybe even (with all apologies), “The Purpose Driven Pan.”

Sometimes it seems almost impossible for me to read the Bible without thinking, “Okay, what application or principles can I take from these Scriptures.” Have you ever noticed how many sermons we come away from believing that if we can only remember this sermon and its principles then life would be different? Contrast that to how many movies we walk out of, or sitcoms we sit through, or books we read and come away thinking that one really spoke to where I am, where I’ve been, or where I’m heading.

What I think has really happened can be called the sin against imagination. We love to use movie clips in sermons, but we still can’t look at Scripture as Story. Our imagination stops at a certain level, and we very rarely let the Holy Spirit have a chance: “Sprit, guide my life, guide my decisions, but leave my imagination to me.” At least I know I struggle here.

In this season of Lent, please God... resurrect a child-like wonder that leads to a Holy Imagination.

desert son

bedouin 'bed(ə)win
noun
a nomadic Arab of the desert.

nomad 'nō,mad
noun
a member of a people having no permanent abode, and who travel from place to place to find fresh pasture.

There is a pivotal moment in our story, right after Jesus’ baptism when he hears the words of the Father speak over him saying, “This is my beloved Son, and I am well pleased with Him.” Of course, Jesus hasn’t done anything public in His ministry yet. But still He is loved – loved for who He is, not what he has done. And this is key.

It is key because the pivotal moment comes when Jesus leaves the waters of the river and wanders into the desert for the next forty days. Forty days of fasting. Forty days of praying. Forty days of silence. Forty days of heat and sand and scorpions. And at the end of those forty days his first re-connection is not with His family or friends or even humans for that matter, but with the Enemy. The Devil. Satan.

And what does Satan do? He tempts Jesus with offers of relevance, power and status. All the same things that I as a man, a husband, and a preacher are tempted with, too. And how does Jesus respond? He remembers. He remembers His identity found in the words at His baptism. He is God’s, He is the Beloved, and the Father is well pleased. No need for the offers and false interpretations of Scripture the Devil has offered.

His identity is the key, and identity rooted not in what He has done, but in who He is. After this the angels nurse Him, and the public ministry - free of the false self - begins.

But what I am most interested in right now is what exactly went on in those forty desert days. What did Jesus do and say and sing and dream during that time? Did the heat and hunger get so bad that he saw mirages or passed out? Did he get bored, or maybe anxious? I can’t imagine Jesus just sitting, all stoic and docile, enduring the Palestinian sun in some prophetic trance. He was, after all, fully human.

He went into the desert with nothing but a word, and forty days later He fully believed that word enough that in the midst of starvation and dehydration He did not waver. So how did He get there? Did He ever doubt? Did He ever question? Did He argue with the night and scream back at the wind?

Maybe we don’t know the details of Jesus’ forty days because we might not be able to handle His suffering, as though it might shake our faith. Or maybe we don’t know because we have to spend our time in the desert, and just as we cannot take food into a fast, we cannot take the “Jesus principles of desert days” in this journey. All we can know is that we have the Word of God spoken to us, and it will be bread enough for the journey.

I ask all of this because tomorrow we begin the forty-day season of Lent. I don’t know a time when I have every been more confused, and at the same time more expectant, of what will happen during this time in the desert. I am still aware of a great deal of my false self which is being and will be tempted in all the possible ways. I have a hope in the power of the Cross. And I am always becoming more aware of the issues of the past and the fears of the future that make the desert a place of refuge and horror all at the same time.

But I also know I go with a word. I have a baptism, and I have an identity. I am important to the Father. I have bread for the journey. So here we go...

Unos
Dos
Trece
Catorce