Mirror, Mirror: How the Modern Fairy Tale Reflects Us

Mankind should have outgrown happy endings a long time ago. From merely a brief perusal of the daily news, it seems unlikely that we would still be interested in the whimsy of fantasy. Yet in the wake of such seminal tragedies as 9/11, in a world fractured by war, disease, and death, fairy tales remain one of our most recognizable cultural icons, as evidenced by the enduring popularity of books such as The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter.

Christmas - The Greatest Eucatastrophe

Eucatastrophe: a sudden joyous turn in a dark tale—the happy ending "a piercing glimpse of joy...that for a moment...rends indeed the very web of story, and lets a gleam come through."

“The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces the essence of fairy-stories. They contain many marvels—particularly artistic, beautiful, and moving: ‘mythical’ in their perfect, self-contained significance; and among the marvels is the greatest and most complete conceivable eucatastrophe. But this story has entered History and the primary world; the desire and aspiration of sub-creation has been raised to the fulfillment of creation.

The Lost Art of Lament - Boston, Texas, and Gosnell

The trench is dug within our hearts
And mothers, children, brothers, sisters
Torn apart
 

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

How long...

How long must we sing this song?

How long, how long... 

~U2, Sunday,Bloody Sunday

We all know what it feels like to be homesick. The many months in a foreign land, the unfamiliar sounds of a different country. After the hours on the road, you drag yourself indoors, ready for the weariness and discomfort to cease, ready to embrace that unconditional lover: the couch. 

But sometimes, there are problems that have no solution. Ever had a dream in your head? Perfect and untouched, the idea for a poem, or a book, or a piece of art? But when you take up the pen, the words cannot describe it. You know exactly what you’re talking about, but everything you try feels wrong, a futile attempt to describe a greater truth. You throw language at an object, but nothing captures the essence of it. The painting is just a scrawled crayon glimpse of an uncapturable vision. Sometimes, we feel a hunger that nothing satisfies.

Christian Contemporary Music - My Campaign

Music's only purpose should be the glory of God and the recreation of the human spirit.
~J.S. Bach

Many of the Christians I know (and certainly all the atheists) hold the genre of Christian Contemporary Music in contempt. I don't mean that they actively hate it (though some do), but they certainly label it as lame, amateur, or feel-good clap-trap. Unfortunately, the majority of the stuff you'll hear on CCM radio stations is just that: Fluff. Mass-produced and very popular Fluff, but still Fluff. Only a few artists rise from the masses to actually deliver a profound and good song. Even then, it probably only made it to the radio for the sake of its catchy tune. Don't get me wrong - there can be good songs on the radio, but it has to be in a certain format. And it's a format that doesn't allow for much wiggling space. At most, you'll get that one good song.

But there's a big However. There are scads and scads of Christian musicians that never make it to CCM radio stations. Among the group I call the Fringe Artists lies a reservoir of rich talent seldom credited to the Christian musician. There's truly a little of something for everyone: pop, acoustic and electric rock, folksy-artistic-groovy, instrumental, plumb-good stuff, laments, rap (both lighter and heavier), heavy metal, southern rock, country, punk, rock in home-made spaceships, songs about Dutch artists, Peter Pan (with C.S. Lewis references), bio-ethics, living rooms, Aslan, and The Grey Havens. There are more music genres than I've even heard of. Let's contrast some Fluff with some Fringe.

Top 5's of 2012

Because I'm usually half a step behind the times, and generally wish I lived five hundred years ago, many of these things didn't come out in 2012, but that's when I discovered them.

Books:

Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Prophet, Martyr, Spy – by the wonderful Eric Metaxas. This book not only tells the amazing story of German pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, but it also paints in vivid detail Hitler’s sneaky political alliance with “the church” and what the real Church was doing behind the scenes. Disturbing parallels with modern America.

Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery - also by Metaxas. I didn’t know very much about Wilberforce until I read this book, but now I think he’s one of the greatest influences on Western civilization in the last four hundred years. And a Christian.

The Fellowship of the Ring – by J.R.R. Tolkien. Yeah, yeah, I’ve read it before, but this is the first time I’ve really read it with the spiritual eyes open. Tremendous book. I'm halfway through The Two Towers, and I'm savoring every moment. Interestingly enough, I just found out that the copy we own (see pic) is the Ballantine second edition - and it has a weird misprint. If you happen to have several thousand dollars laying around, I'd be willing to negotiate.





Orthodoxy - by G.K. Chesterton. Simply foundational stuff. I loved this book. So many moments where one thinks "Gosh! It's so obvious, so obviously true, but I never thought of it. Amazing."










Notes from the Tilt-a-Whirl - by N.D. Wilson. To come clean, I've only watched the bookumentary so far, but that was amazing. I won't quite look at anything the same way. Since, according to Shelfari, I've read about eighty books this year, it's quite an achievement. Along with Orthodoxy, it's had a major impact on my thinking.

The Silence of God

Today, more than ever, I feel the deep brokenness of the world. That Man could do such things, such brutal, animal, cruel things to innocent children, makes one want to scream at the heavens, why? Why?

I am not one to ask why the world is broken, or what would have been if it was not - it is enough that it is. But I was sitting at the computer, wondering whether it was okay to be hurt about this. The world is broken, but am I allowed to doubt God? To ask why? If I believe in heaven, why does this hurt so much? Then I came to a song that I had heard many times, but as has so often happened before, this time I really listened.

Happy Thanksgiving

Andrew Peterson posted this hilarious poem on the Rabbit Room last Thanksgiving, and I laugh out loud every time I read it. It also rather convicts me of my own failings.

THANKSGIVING (A CONFESSION AND A PLEA TO THE ALMIGHTY)

O God, Magnificent Confounder,
Boundless in mercy and power,
Be near me in my apathy.

Be near me, Savage Dreamer,
Bright Igniter of Exploding Suns,
But not too near. I’d like to live,

By your grace, just long enough
To taste another perfect steak.
And to see my children marry,

And, perhaps, to pen a memoir.
Great redeemer of my lechery,
Bright Dawn of Blessed Hope,

Lay waste to every prideful thing,
Each black infraction of your law.
O Swirling Storm of Holy Anger,

Be patient with me. I’m certain
I will make a second gluttonous
Trip to the festal spread of food.

And I might as well admit, O King
Omniscient, I plan to make a third.
And that will lead to sloth, I know,

If only for the afternoon. Awake,
O sleeper! But not yet, not yet.
I want to dream a dream of light

In Heaven’s towering splendor.
I long, my Lord, to walk its streets
Or better yet, to drive them.

I’ve always wanted a motorcycle,
A cool one that blats and rumbles
Like a herd of flaming zebras.

I could totally impress the ladies
With my holy rolling zebra steed,
But only by your perfect pleasure,

Ruler of the angel armies, blaster
Of the horn of strength, would I ride
The golden highways awesomely.

O Wisdom of the Ages, speak!
Sing to me of secret knowledge
Open wide the gates of truth,

And let me learn it, by your grace,
Through the medium of television–
Smartly written situational comedy,

Perhaps, or an epic space opera.
Let me taste the honey of your word,
My beloved savior. Seriously. Save me

From my wit, my words, my songs,
My sin, my bad poems, my vanity,
My every single human impulse,

Except the ones I like and am able
To justify using my corruptible
Reason, my imperfect understanding,

And my belief in your inexhaustible
Forgiveness. When I awake, saintly,
I will consume a dish of pumpkin pie.

And, as I politely swallow a belch,
I will lean my heart on yours, Almighty,
To whom, alone, is due thanksgiving.


Happy Thanksgiving,
Longish
Neo-Mayberry, Middle of Nowhere, America (I really need a new sign-off...)

The Test of All Happiness

"The test of all happiness is gratitude."

-G.K. Chesterton

 

There's a moment in the Lord of the Rings movies that has always bothered me a little. It's actually my favorite scene, when Frodo and Sam are in Osgiliath, and all hope is dead, it seems. Frodo, despairing, says, "What are we holding onto, Sam?"

Sam turns, grabs Frodo by the shoulders, and hauls him to his feet, staring him eye-to-eye. "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it's worth fighting for."

The music swells. Gollum, remembering that little plan about the big spider, looks sheepish. And everyone feels a little better than they did before. It's by far my favorite scene. But, watching it again and again, there was always something nagging me. I knew that it wasn't actually in the books, so I never worried about Tolkien's theology...but here I was, swept up into the clouds by something I didn't believe was true.

I believed that to be theologically correct, we must say there is no good in the world, and there hasn't been since Adam's Fall (excepting a certain carpenter in early AD). All our righteousness is as filthy rags, after all. I didn't feel like it was right to call anything this side of heaven truly good.

He Has Given You a Name

(All scripture quotations are taken from The Severely Dramatized Gospel of Longish.)

When somebody meets you, what’s the first thing they ask? If you’re not me, it probably won’t be “Oh my gosh! Can I have your autograph?” But even us famous people are asked “What’s your name?” occasionally. After that, it’s generally “What do you do?” or “Where are you from?” Those questions are the basic building blocks for forming a mental portrait of other people. If you’re from up North, you probably won’t be interested in the latest Redskins game. If you’re a mechanic, you probably won’t be too interested in philosophy. But even though a name doesn’t tell us much anymore, it’s still one of the first things asked.

Why is that? Back in the day, it was because folk wanted to know who your pa and ma were. Before that, to what tribe or feudal lord you owed your allegiance. And way, way, back, in ancient Israel, it was to know who you were meant to be. These days, it’s just a formality, but in the patriarch Jacob’s day, names meant a heck of a lot.

Light for the Lost Boy - a Review

I remember the day of the Tennessee Flood,
The sound of the scream
and the sight of the blood.
My son he saw as the animal died
in the jaws of the dog as the river ran by,
He said, "Come back soon."

It takes guts to start an album with lines like that. When I first heard them, I was surprised and intrigued. And right from the get-go, Andrew Peterson fans, both new and old, aren’t quite sure what to expect. Unlike his previous albums, Lost Boy is immediately dark and brooding, while at the same time deep and satisfying.

The instrumental backing, (and in particular, the addition of the epic drumming of Will Chapman—yes, son of Steven Curtis) is much broader than with earlier records. Gone are the folksy banjos and fiddles, enter drums and mournful electric guitar. While unusual at first, I quickly decided it was cool, and it certainly still had that Andrew Peterson vibe to it (references to thunder and mountains, and at least one song with hammered dulcimer).

Come Back Soon, the opening track, introduces the main theme of the album: loss of innocence. The album draws inspiration from both The Yearling and Peter Pan, and there is frequent imagery of a boy, lost in the woods. In some ways, starting the album with Come Back Soon feels like starting off right where his previous record, Counting Stars, left off. Counting Stars ends with the lines,

I know that I don’t know what I’m asking,

But I long, Lord, I long to look you full in the face,

I am ready for the Reckoning.

Only a Slave Can Be Truly Free - Paradise Lost

Only the eyes of the heart perceive

That the deaf and blind can hear and see

That insanity’s saner than sanity

That only a slave can be truly free

-“Through the Eye” Michael Card

I tend to prefer the epic to the commonplace. While Shakespeare’s tightly plotted tragedies and comedies are hardly everyday fare, compared to John Milton’s Paradise Lost, they’re as familiar as an alarm clock in the morning. Because really, Paradise Lost is high fantasy. Fantasy based on fact, but still legendary in scale. Peopled with fantastic creatures and transcendent beings, colossal settings and astounding descriptions, Paradise Lost consists mainly of Milton letting his imagination run wild as it fills in gaps between the first few chapters of Genesis.

Milton doesn’t just try his hand at description; he also takes a shot at theology. Obviously, anyone who creates a fictional story puts their characters in a world where the author’s views are Truth. For instance, judging the bulk of literature, one concludes that most of humanity (consciously or unconsciously) believes in an ultimate Happy Ending, and longs for the triumph of Justice.

“…and they lived happily ever after.”

The main ideas that jump out in Lost (really, the TV show wasn’t very true to the book), are those of justice, pride, freedom, gratitude, and forgiveness. Milton certainly isn’t a universalist. He correctly understands that every time God forgives, he must do so at the expense of his justice. Of Jesus he said:

There is More

My name is Longish and I approve this video:

There is more
More than we can see
From our tiny vantage point
In this vast eternity
There is more
...There is more than what the naked eye can see
Clothing all our days with mystery
Watching over everything
Wilder than our wildest dreams
Could ever dream to be
There is more
-Andrew Peterson "More"

Longish
Neo-Mayberry, Middle of Nowhere, America

The Songs We All Knew

I tend to be a little star-struck when it comes to the small group of people I think are famous. There's a certain group of amazing Christian musicians in Nashville who congregate on a website called The Rabbit Room (after the Eagle and Child pub, of Inklings fame). I only discovered them two years ago, but since then, we have acquired six Rabbit Room books, ten or more Rabbit Room albums, and check in frequently on the site for new posts. The Rabbit Room's proprieter is a singer/songwriter/author named Andrew Peterson.  He's such a household name with us that I can just say “Andrew said on Facebook earlier…” and the rest of the family will know exactly who I’m talking about.

Andrew Peterson on tour with Steven Curtis Chapman and Josh Wilson

Last year, after I met Michael Card, I said "Now, I just need to meet Andrew Peterson, and life will be complete. " A few weeks ago, I did meet him (at a concert in Winston-Salem) and he signed my copies of his books. My life is not, in fact, complete, but as soon as someone sends me a private plane and tickets to The Hobbit premiere, it will be. Make it happen, readers.

The Captains Courageous (their unofficial name) were terrific live. Andrew, Ben Shive and Andy Gullahorn, (the other Captains) were hilarious, making fun of one another or providing the sort of witty banter than makes shows better than CDs. We were fifteen feet from the stage, on the front row. With each song came an amusing and interesting tale; not only is he a gifted songwriter, but Andrew's a real storyteller too. He's like our pastor, Don, who can tell a joke and have us all in stitches, but when I tell it the next day...blank faces. Some people are just Funny when they're talking about anything. See the The Cheese Song.