The wisdom of Nichole

I should point out that the article reproduced below doesn't necessarily reflect my own views or opinions completely, but it seemed quite relevant to various discussions that have gone on recently in Blogdom, so thought I would include it! Besides, it's written by Nichole Nordeman - and she's a legend in my eyes!!!

Comments, discussion, or otherwise welcome!!!

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LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION – March 2007 CCM By Nichole Nordeman
Lights, camera, action
Movie night is a big deal at my house. I remember when I was a younger, single person, hearing my married friends with kids talk about how excited they were about getting to have a “Blockbuster night” on Saturday night. I remember thinking, “Wow. How sad. When I get married and have kids I am sooo not going to be a giant lame-o and allow the highlight of my entire week to revolve around microwave popcorn and a DVD player.” I was certain my evenings would be spent strolling through art museums or stopping at sidewalk cafes to scribble something insightful in my journal. Naturally, whatever child I was schlepping around in a stroller, would be quietly practicing his or her French with the flashcards I found at the museum gift shop.
No joke. That was my vision of family life. ANYTHING, dear Lord, but Blockbuster night.
The irony of course, is that I married a man who is such a film buff, that we have a separate ROOM for movie watching. A special screen on a special wall the size of an SUV with 19 remote controls, specifically designed to detonate in the hands of women. But I am an admitted convert. I am now the girl who takes great pride in un-scorched popcorn, and great shame in un-popped kernels. I am now the girl who races to my special spot on the couch for movie night. Let the museum people scoff…I have far more comfortable slippers than Van Gogh ever owned.
The other night, Errol and I made a rare and erroneous film selection. He had obtained a free copy of the most recent King Kong movie (2005). I won’t waste time reviewing the film. Besides, I should try and be sensitive…maybe you liked it. Maybe you also like sweaty gym socks and small daggers poked in your eyes. Maybe you like the Keebler elves. But, our only consolation in watching this film was that it was…free. But then, so are the chickenpox.
The film opens with one of the main characters Carl Denham, played by Jack Black, a struggling yet passionate movie director in the 1930’s trying to make his mark and fund his next “masterpiece.” When he is first introduced in early scenes, I had compassion for him. He is desperately trying to win the enthusiasm (and dollars) of some wealthy investors to afford him the luxury of finishing his film. He is appropriately eccentric and inappropriate, but it was easy for me to be sympathetic with his willingness to go to any lengths to make his movie.
Most of the movie is spent watching him trail a giant, hairy gorilla (duh) who spends 2 hours flinging the lovely Naomi Watts about, lipstick and curls perfectly intact, despite the fact that Kong repeatedly snaps her bony neck around like a chicken. There. Now you’ve seen the movie.
Oh yah. She screams a lot.
Long after the movie mercifully ended, it was the Jack Black character…the passionate director…that stayed with me. Once he is finally on spooky Skull Island, and he begins frantically filming, it is clear that his passion for his art has started to look more like a disturbing obsession. Danger lurks around every corner and even though his closet friends and crew are losing their limbs and lives to creatures who are unspeakably gruesome, he manages to somehow keep his camera rolling ‘for art’s sake.’ Narrowly escaping the clutches of giant cockroaches and gianormous eels himself, he is miraculously able to scramble behind the lens and continue to film the bedlam, unharmed.
What began as my admiration for his passionate pursuit of art quickly became disgust for his insatiable greed and opportunism…all at the expense of his cast and crew.
Why is there always such a fine line between genuine commitment and unhealthy fixation? And why is it so easy for everyone else to recognize when that line has been blurred or crossed, except for the sucker who is still clinging to the illusion that he or she is somehow gallantly obliged to keep fixating? We see it all the time…dating relationships that should have ended long ago, jobs that should have been resigned from, unrealistic pie in the sky notions of being “discovered” at something, the optimistic pining away for a certain kind of physical beauty we will never attain, the clutching, the grasping, the constant justification…and everyone else in the room is thinking… PUT THE CAMERA DOWN. YOUR LIFE IS FALLING APART AROUND YOU AND YOU’RE WAITING TO GET FOOTAGE OF A 50-FOOT MONKEY HOLDING A BLONDE. Let…it…go.
Knowing when to clutch at something even tighter because you believe so firmly in seeing it through and knowing when to walk away might be one of the hardest parts about a journey in faith. There are so many competing voices. So much input. So many books and friends and friends recommending books. So many therapists and counselors (big fan, by the way)…it can be a great struggle to quiet all the chatter and really hear God’s heart. Everybody and their gorilla is an expert on what God wants for you. And very few people have a clue. Least of all the goofball staring back from the mirror who can no longer see the forest for the bananas.
In the 10th chapter of John’s Gospel, Jesus spends some time talking to a crowd about how His sheep “will follow him because they know His voice.” Other shepherds, other watchmen and “hired hands’ will try and coerce His sheep to follow but “they will never follow a stranger, in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice.” (vs. 5) After his thorough and gentle explanation of this sheep/shepherd metaphor…18 verses worth in fact…about half of the crowd decided he was “demon possessed and raving mad,” and probably went off in search of Little Bo Peep. Case in point, I’d say.
There’s the challenge. Not JUST the getting quiet part, but whose voice you choose to amplify. And it is a choice. And a huge risk…because it might very well mean God prying your white knuckles off that camera.
ARRGH. I hate it when I accidentally write something that applies to my own life. Stupid Kong.
Don’t rent it…you can borrow my copy. You can have my copy. No charge.
nichole