An Island Unto...
"No man or woman is an island."
~~Denis Waitley~~
~~Denis Waitley~~
“Thanks for coming out! We hope to see you again!” the ushers exclaimed as optimistically as minimum wage and throbbing feet would allow them as we each exited the theatre, having just finished viewing The Island. I get the distinct feeling they had to thank us, though. It just seemed that, despite their exuberant gratitude for our being there, both their apathetic faces and cantankerous posturing betrayed their words. Coming from my broad experience working in movie theatres, I’m sure it has everything to do with the candy wrappers, spilled drinks, and nacho trays left behind. Such a thing would have anyone muttering beneath their breath about some ungodly way to cause bodily harm were they ever to meet any of us in a darkened alley.
So, The Island was a film decked to the nines in explosions, gratuitous slow-motion, gapping plot holes, beautiful people running from bad guys who manage to remain beautiful in the process, excruciatingly obvious product placement and a couple more well-placed explosions. The film was your regular big-budget explosion fest helmed by a man, director Michael Bay, who has made big-budget explosion fests his thing. Of course, I checked my disbelief at the door and ate up every moment of it. Technically, the powers that be at Warner Brothers Studios could have named this movie anything they wanted to and gotten away with it, but The Island is what they chose to called it and the theatre still got my nine bucks, so what can I say?
After the begrudging invitation back to visit in the near future by the lethargic ushers my buddy Josh and I ran into our neighbor from two doors down, who had come to see the same movie with his wife and a couple friends. There was this moment of strange excitement. “Wow! You’re here, too? What’re the odds of that?” Then came the obligatory questions about whether or not we all liked the movie, why or why not? After that, we smiled awkwardly, said our good-byes, and made our way toward our vehicles.
Josh and I talked some more about the gapping plot holes and the blatant taking advantage of our willing suspension of disbelief during the car ride home. As we neared the pad there was a lull in the conversation and I became somewhat contemplative. “Do you think he’s a believer?” I asked as I turned to face my friend. “He’s not,” Josh informed me. Sitting back in the passenger side seat, I tried to imagine such a thing.
Being raised in a Christian home, I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t know Jesus. There were times when He felt more like a distant sovereign rather than a close friend and confidante, sure. Those of you who have read these windows into my traveling soul have been witness to some of these periods. Even still, I always knew He was somewhere nearby, exactly where I had left Him. But, to live a life completely devoid of Christ? I have a hard time imagining it. Maybe that is why testimonies of those who have done all these supposedly terrible things and then been found by Christ fascinate me so much. Maybe it’s why I like reading about Paul the Apostle’s conversion, because his story of before-and-after mesmerizes the mind.
What must it be like to live a life experiencing only common grace and not saving grace? What must it be like to not have the security of Christ? And, I’m not talking about some ethereal feeling of fire insurance, either. I mean truly? What must it be like for this man who makes small talk with us from time-to-time? What must it be like to get out of bed in the morning, lace up one’s shoes, go jogging, read the Detroit Free Press over a cup a coffee, down a bowl of cereal, go to work and fly a fighter jet for a living, come home to make love with a beautiful wife, raise two good-looking sons, live in a nice home in Grosse Pointe, Michigan, and go to sleep at night with only common grace? I can’t imagine a life that is perpetually more alone than that…an island.
Do you think this man begins to wonder about Christ when I let him know Josh is moving to Phoenix to be part of a church plant and I am going to school in a few weeks to study for the pastorate? Do you think that beneath the small talk about how hard it is to keep weeds out the front of our respective flowerbeds and the awkward smile lay the question, “What must it be like to live a life experiencing both common grace and saving grace? What must it be like to look forward to experiencing true reality?” What if this guy and every unsaved person we might know want us to ask them if they might want a relationship with Jesus Christ? I know that seems simplistic, but what if? What if they’re tired of floating around in the ocean of life, an island unto themselves? What if the only thing they’re waiting for is for you and me to open our mouths and say something…anything.
posted by C. E'Jon Moore @ 23.7.05
1 Comments:
One thing is for sure, life is too short to screw around and not life for Christ. Any day could truely be our last, we don't have the option to live selfish lives, it is just not in the equation of a life following Christ.
DK
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