Friday, May 1, 2009

Nothing like a good cry

Last night I was in the mood for a great movie. It was a long day, a long week, I was taxed and done for. I couldn't help but think about doing anything more than allowing myself to be transported into a good drama. One that would challenge me to stay awake and be a movie I hadn't seen in some time. That movie was Dead Poet's Society. A favorite of mine.

I tried my best to stay awake, but to no avail. I was fast asleep a third of the way into the movie. No matter. I was up in the morning and after some time with my wife I picked up right where I left off. As I watched I remembered how much I love this movie and wondered why I had to unwrap it from plastic when I wanted to watch it this time. This was a movie that reached deep into my soul touching and strumming some elusive chord I had forgotten was there. My life of action packed fast paced movies, music and work buried my love and respect for this type of emotion and commitment to a movie. But even more than that it spoke to my place in life. Teaching and trying to inspire passion and commitment to something others even peers may seem odd and uncool. The teaching of poetry and literature in this movie in a way different and in an experiential way grabbed hold of me. Rather than relating to the youth, the young boys of this movie I found myself in the shoes of Robin Williams, the teacher wanting to teach and feed the Word of God to the students I encounter every day. I cried. I was a blubbering mess on the couch under my blanked as the credits rolled. How could you just take that opportunity away from them? Why are the pillars of the school more important that getting to what's underneath the words on the page? Can't you give him another chance....?

I feel this way in my life all the time. I sing praise songs, I read the Bible, I sing choir anthems... the words, they sit on the page and stare back at me. Why aren't they jumping out at me? Why don't I spend time "sucking the marrow" from the poetry that is in front of me day after day? Why don't I encourage it more from the youth I teach?

In the end it wasn't the poetry, the words on the page that mattered. They had gone beyond just words and become life. They were something more. They were deep inside and wanting to come out so badly the one holding them could burst. I had forgotten that deep inside of me those words had once taken hold. I was once ready to burst. But my busy life and constant gaze toward the future and next event has not allowed myself to enjoy these words. But in the same emotion I was comforted knowing that the words, although hidden deep inside of me, had never let go. They were there welling up inside of me during this very moment. I was connected to something long ago and present at the same time. I was happy, sad, excited, scared, and anxious in the same tear. What a wonderful feeling this was. More I want more of it I want to be moved to the point of emotion bursting out of me because of what I have seen or read or experienced.

I pray I take the time to enjoy the words God has given us through poets, song writers, scholars, and even myself during my sabbatical. I pray that we all may take time to dwell in the house of the Lord more often chewing and ingesting all of the goodness our Lord has set out before us.

The feast is before us....let us partake of it.

Blessings,

dain

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