Page 2901 – Christianity Today (2024)

Not much religion news out of the exitpoll data last night. Once again, Democrats were not asked if they consider themselves born again or evangelical, even though Republicans were asked the question last week. The only religion question was church attendance:

The speeches had a bit of religion talk too. Obama talked about the principalities and powers (not his phrase) he’s battling against:

What we’ve seen in these last weeks is that we’re also up against forces that are not the fault of any one campaign but feed the habits that prevent us from being who we want to be as a nation. It’s a politics that uses religion as a wedge and patriotism as a bludgeon, a politics that tells us that we have to think, act, and even vote within the confines of the categories that supposedly define us, the assumption that young people are apathetic, the assumption that Republicans won’t cross over, the assumption that the wealthy care nothing for the poor and that the poor don’t vote, the assumption that African-Americans can’t support the white candidate, whites can’t support the African-American candidate, blacks and Latinos cannot come together.

We are here tonight to say that that is not the America we believe in. … I know that when people say we can’t overcome all the big money and influence in Washington, I think of that elderly woman who sent me a contribution the other day, an envelope that had a money order for $3.01 along with a verse of Scripture tucked inside the envelope.

Obama ended his speech with what he called a creed: the “timeless creed that sums up the spirit of the American people in three simple words: Yes, we can.”

Obama didn’t invoke God, but Clinton did, briefly:

Many of us, as I look around this crowd, know that we were given blessings and opportunities that we inherited, didn’t we? And those were the results of the hard work of our parents, our grandparents, and people we never met, people who defend our freedoms, people who created the businesses that employed us, who pushed down the barriers that prevented any of us from fulfilling our God-given potential.

She may have said more, but TV viewers didn’t get to see it since the networks cut her off. Edwards, at least, got in his last line, which included a shout-out to the Almighty: “God bless you all and thank you for your support and thank you for being here and thank you for your voice.”

Did you receive an e-mail that claimed Sen. Barack Obama was a closet Muslim? I did. And I deleted it without a second thought. Obama has publicly proclaimed his Christian faith on many occasions. Yet it appears that the viral e-mail campaign has achieved its desired effect. So this week Obama made himself available to Christianity Today and other religious media to denounce the e-mails and profess his faith in Jesus Christ.

Sarah Pulliam and Ted Olsen, who conducted the brief interview for CT, took the opportunity to ask Obama about his views on abortion. The 35th anniversary of Roe v. Wade on January 22 has triggered a spate of media critiques of abortion in America. Movies take up the topic. A recent report shared the good news about an ongoing drop in the abortion rate, now at its lowest point since the year after Roe.

Obama did not back off his pro-choice views in the CT interview. “I think [abortions] need to be made in consultation with doctors, they have to be prayed upon, or people have to be consulting their conscience on it,” he said. “I think we have to keep that decision-making with the person themselves.” He did, however, say that he supports restricting third-trimester abortions. But it’s hard to know if he’s serious, since he requires an exception for the health of the mother, a notorious loophole that would effectively negate the type of ban signed by President Bush in 2003.

More insightful was a statement his campaign released on the Roe anniversary. Obama boasted about being the only candidate who raised money to defeat South Dakota’s ban on abortion. He recalled speaking out against pro-life protesters in the Chicago suburbs. And he echoed an important foundational assumption with theological implications.

“But we also know that Roe v. Wade is about more than a woman’s right to choose; it’s about equality,” Obama said. “It’s about whether our daughters are going to have the same opportunities as our sons. And so to truly honor that decision, we need to update the social contract so that women can free themselves, and their children, from violent relationships; so that a mom can stay home with a sick child without getting a pink slip; so that she can go to work knowing that there’s affordable, quality childcare for her children; and so that the American dream is within reach for every family in this country.”

There’s a lot here to digest. But the emphasis on freedom and equality stands out. The concepts pepper every politician’s speech, given their central roles in the American story. If freedom was the goal of the Revolution, then the Civil War and civil rights movement sought equality, an unfilled promise from the Declaration of Independence. Like anything else, freedom and equality can become pawns in modern-day political chess. If Obama can trace his pro-choice views back to the American statement of faith, so can pro-life professor Robert George.

“Ours is a nation, as Lincoln said, ‘conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal,'” the Princeton University professor told blogger Justin Taylor. “Our country has never perfectly lived up to its high ideals, but our ideals are the right ideals and they are worth struggling to live up to. Our history shows that we are a people who can live with grave injustices for only so long. Just as we abolished slavery and eventually overthrew segregation and Jim Crow in order to honor the dignity and rights of our brothers and sisters of African descent, we will eventually restore to our tiniest and most vulnerable brothers and sisters the protection they, as members of the human family, deserve.”

Freedom and equality sound beautiful to the Christian’s ears. After all, Christ proclaimed freedom for the captives (Luke 4:18, quoted from Isa. 61:1). The apostle Paul tells us, “For freedom Christ has set you free” (Gal. 5:1). Jesus elevated the downtrodden in his parables and actions. Paul taught the good news that in Christ, all — slave and free, Greek and Jew, male and female — may be justified before God, if they believe (Gal. 3:28).

Yet it seems America’s national creed, as understood by many today, stops here. The gospel goes much further. More than equality, the gospel means self-sacrifice. Consistent with Jesus’ message, Paul warns believers not to, “use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself'” (Gal. 5:13-14).

This Christian gospel is implicit in the very social contract that Obama references. In return for order and protection, citizens cede some liberties, especially if exercising these liberties will infringe on fellow citizens.

Abortion reveals the failure of the social contract when we abandon desperate people to tragic choices — as Obama states — but also when we tolerate the destruction of innocent children

Verse for the Fortnight

“The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.”

Isaiah 61:1

Collin Hansen is a CT editor-at-large. He is the author of Young, Restless, Reformed: A Journalist’s Journey with the New Calvinists (Crossway, 2008).

Copyright © 2008 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

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Previous Theology in the News columns are available on our site.

Recently I read yet another lament of evangelicalism’s “consumerist” approach to spiritual matters. Such critiques usually say that evangelicals encourage people to shop around to find the kind of church that meets their spiritual “needs.” This needs-centered understanding of the Christian life has fostered a widespread breakdown of denominational and congregational loyalty, critics say. Faithfulness to a specific theological or ecclesiastical tradition has been replaced by “church shopping.”

I must confess that I am more vulnerable than most in light of this charge. I am presently co-chairing, on behalf of the Presbyterian Church (USA), the officially sponsored dialogue between representatives of the Roman Catholic Church and four denominations in the Reformed tradition. In a sense, I am the most ecumenical member of the dialogue, having belonged at one time in my life to three of the four sponsoring Reformed denominations: I was raised in a parsonage of the Reformed Church in America, then belonged for 17 years—during my time on the Calvin College faculty—to the Christian Reformed Church, and am now a member of a PC(USA) congregation. Furthermore, my wife and I often attend services in a local Episcopal parish. So when I hear people refer disparagingly to “church shoppers,” I feel that I need to defend my own shopping.

I have never thought of myself as “separating” or “seceding” from anything. If someone wanted to characterize my moves as being guided by spiritual tastes, I would have to admit to the appropriateness of that depiction. To the degree, then, that there is anything to this charge of consumerism, I would guess that I am the sort of Christian who participates with a fairly clear conscience in a part of the Christian world where that kind of thing is regularly on display. In fact, I view the pattern that the anti-consumerists criticize as manifesting important strengths.

Anti-consumerist elitism?

I once heard an economist rail against the consumerist patterns of our society, illustrating his point by speaking disdainfully of people who think “that economic freedom means having the right to choose between McDonald’s and Burger King.” I must confess that on occasion I take a few minutes to think about whether to buy a Quarter Pounder or a Whopper. But what irked me about the economist who put down the kind of culinary choice that some of us consider non-trivial is that he is a wine connoisseur. I recently heard him go into great detail about the relative virtues of two kinds of Cabernet Sauvignon.

The question I wanted to pose to him is not unlike the one I would ask folks who speak disparagingly about a family that switches from a local Methodist parish to a new megachurch charismatic congregation that they find more spiritually fulfilling. Why is that decision a manifestation of consumerism while, say, the moves of Lutheran theologians—I have in mind Father Richard John Neuhaus and Jaroslav Pelikan—to enter into Roman Catholicism and Orthodoxy are not? At the very least, we need to be careful that we are not betraying an elitist bias with the way we toss around the “consumerism” label. The consumption of sermons and worship styles by an ordinary Christian family looking for an enriching spiritual life may not be all that different from the scholars’ consumption of theologies and liturgies.

But I want to push this topic a little further. Consider the case of a Fuller Seminary student with whom I recently spoke. Here is a summary of her Christian experience: “I was raised pretty much as a pagan,” she reported—until her junior year of university, when she experienced a life-changing encounter with Jesus Christ through Campus Crusade. For a while that group’s regular meetings and Bible studies were her only context for Christian formation. In her senior year, however, she worshiped regularly at a local Presbyterian church, where several members of the staff were Fuller graduates, and they urged her to study at Fuller Seminary.

Now she is attending an independent charismatic congregation; “I am attracted to that sort of thing,” she said. At the same time, though, her theological perspective is increasingly being shaped by Reformed theology. “I know that one of these days soon I have to make a decision,” she said with a hint of tension in her voice. “I have to decide whether I go under the care of a presbytery and work toward ordination in the PC(USA), or whether I am going to move in the direction of something like a Vineyard-type ministry.” Then she added, “Or maybe even something else. Who knows what the Lord has in store for me?”

That is the kind of story that has led me to remark on occasion—and only half jokingly—that more and more of our theological schools have become “seeker seminaries.” I do not consider that to be a regrettable development. I do not want to disparage the ministries of those who have followed a more traditional path. I have been blessed by pastors who have never had a question as to what denomination they might serve. But we can no longer take that kind of path for granted. Increasingly, the question of denominational affiliation is a matter of choice, even for those who are preparing for significant church leadership.

Healthy spiritual consumerism

In the case of the young Fuller student, I sense genuine excitement. Her Christian journey begins in a rather unencumbered encounter with the living Christ. Soon she is introduced to the life of a local congregation and then encouraged to pursue theological studies. At seminary, she is confronted with a rich variety of theological options and styles of being the church. And all she can say for sure about the present stage in her journey is that the God who has surprised her several times very likely has more surprises in store. Is that “consumerism”? Perhaps. But it is also an exciting spiritual and theological quest.

In an important sense, her pattern is not all that different from what has long been experienced by people in the Roman Catholic tradition. Consider a young man raised in a Catholic parish, serving as an altar boy and attending Catholic schools in his youth. As a university student, he is actively involved in the campus Newman Club, and in that context experiences a profound personal renewal in his relationship with Christ, so much so that he begins to experience a call to the priesthood. Back home he talks with his parish priest, who in turn sends him for a conversation with the local bishop. But the young man feels uneasy about diocesan priesthood, so he begins a personal exploration. He looks into the Franciscan order and checks out the Dominicans and the Jesuits. Ultimately, he senses God’s call to a Benedictine monastic vocation.

The Roman church, perhaps more than any other, has encouraged many different spiritual flowers to flourish in its ecclesial garden—indeed, it has even been willing to live with considerable structural (and ecclesiological) messiness, as anyone knows who is familiar with the many stories of tensions between, for example, abbots and local diocesan bishops.

A significant feature of the Roman Catholic pattern of spiritual shopping-around is the concept of “special vocation,” which looms large in Catholic environs. A person has a special vocation to join the Jesuits or the Sisters of Charity, and this notion of an individual vocation is regularly linked to a collective vocation. In joining the Benedictines, for example, one joins a communal enterprise of living out a way of life characterized by such things as celibacy, stability, contemplation, and poverty. Other vocational communities have different callings to cultivate their own unique blends of disciplines and virtues.

This strikes me as a way of thinking in positive terms about the exploration of spiritual and theological options. When the Fuller student with whom I talked, for example, struggles with whether to embark upon a path to Presbyterian ordination or to prepare for leadership in one of the newer charismatic fellowships, we can think of her struggle as similar to that of the young Catholic man who is exploring where to live out his priestly ministry. Each can be seen as exploring the question of special vocation. In deciding where they will serve, they are attempting to discern what talents and disciplines and special theological emphases God is asking them to nurture. And I would portray the choice of a family to move from the local Methodist congregation to a new-style congregation that features contemporary worship in similar terms. What may appear to some as a consumerist decision may in fact be a serious exploration of their family’s special vocation.

I see these vocational explorations as an exciting feature of contemporary religious life. We should celebrate the diversity of our Christian landscape, manifested, for example, in the existence of Lutheranism, Vineyard Fellowships, and Stone-Campbell congregations. If such diversity encourages a consumerist approach to the spiritual quest, so be it.

Richard J. Mouw is president of Fuller Theological Seminary and professor of Christian philosophy.

Copyright © 2008 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

Related Elsewhere:

Rodney Clapp wrote about spiritual consumerism in “Why the Devil Takes Visa.”

Mouw wrote “Shoot-First Apologetics” about inter-faith dialogue.

We probably need another Rambo movie like a hole in the head … or arm, or chest, or neck, or … But then, the relatively young audience that saw Rambo No. 4 with me seemed to enjoy it. (I’ll get back to them in a bit.)

No one’s confusing the Rambo films with high art, but the first two are still classic entries in the “one-man-army” action genre. And though the franchise has remained dormant for 20 years, Sylvester Stallone’s characterization remains one of the most iconic in film history. The name is practically synonymous with G.I. Joe. (Anyone else remember the ’80s action figures and cartoons? Sing along now: “Rambo … the force of freedom!”)

What brings an aging action hero out of such lengthy retirement (besides the potential for big bucks)? Stallone was open to a sequel when offered the opportunity, provided that the story was meaningful. Like something involving human rights, genocide, and missionaries? Yeah right, in a Rambo movie? The popular actor/writer/director hinted at it when he talked to us about Rocky Balboa, and he’s remained true to his word.

Filmed in Thailand, Rambo indeed takes place 20 years after the last film. The aging, world-weary Vietnam vet has secluded himself from civilization, fishing and selling poisonous snakes at a small village while running a longboat service on the Salween River. A group of missionaries from Colorado (New Life? Focus on the Family?) locates Rambo to charter his service. Their destination is Burma (aka Myanmar), bringing medical supplies and Bibles to the persecuted Christians there.

Rambo is naturally reluctant. The Burmese-Karen conflict is the world’s longest running civil war—60 years and counting. As the prologue to the movie notes, poor Christian farmers are often the target of extermination. The missionaries would be entering a war zone. Nevertheless, Sarah (Julie Benz of TV’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Dexter), one of the group’s leaders, insists that it’s not a foolhardy effort: “Trying to save a life isn’t wasting your life.” That’s apparently enough to change Rambo’s mind, proceeding to take them up river to their destination.

Two weeks later, another stranger comes knocking on Rambo’s hut. It’s the pastor from the Colorado church. The missionaries have gone missing, and according to reports from freedom fighters, they’re still alive, but held captive by the Burmese army. However, the embassies won’t get involved in such a hot spot. So the church has raised money to hire mercenaries—bringing new meaning to the term “mega-church.” Rambo is asked to lead the team into Burma to locate and rescue the missionaries. Feeling some degree of responsibility—and with 45 minutes still remaining in the film—the legendary soldier accepts.

Rambo the fourth has two kinds of violence in it, neither of them something you want to see if you’re considering overseas mission work. I can’t emphasize enough how graphic this movie is.

The first is the more disturbing kind, yet ironically the more “acceptable.” I’m talking about movies like Schindler’s List and Hotel Rwanda, which realistically show the persecuted enduring unimaginable suffering. I personally feel some obligation in seeing such films, as they raise awareness of real events going on in the world—things that we can work toward ending as both Christians and Americans.

Stallone clearly didn’t want to shy away from the horrors of genocide in Burma, pushing the film’s envelope well past anything that Hotel Rwanda left out. The soldiers’ favorite “game” in Rambo is to throw landmines into rice fields, forcing captives to run relays back and forth while placing bets on which will be the first/last to die. In the film’s most sickening scene, the Burmese army slaughters the village where the missionaries are serving. Children are shot or thrown into flaming buildings, women are raped, limbs are dismembered, bodies are ripped to shreds from explosions—virtually no survivors, and it’s all absolutely horrible to behold. But then, such violence is part of the real story in real life in Burma/Myanmar, so one could say this film is merely reporting the truth.

The second half of the movie shifts gears to the rescue story in which Rambo and his cohorts exact bloody vengeance upon those who cause injustice. Now we’re entering territory where violence is glorified, railroaded into wanting Rambo to kill the bad guys—and we want them killed in the worst way possible. Which of course he does, and this is by far the bloodiest of all the Rambo movies. Not just because of the horrors of the Burmese-Karen conflict, but because sniper bullets cause heads to explode like watermelons and Rambo unloads a machinegun cannon into soldiers at point blank range. Yeesh, take that!

Action hounds are likely to be pleased. There are some stupid moments, but Rambo is not an overly bad movie. It does take nearly half the running time to wind up the action, then lets it loose non-stop for the remainder. As bloody and intense as the movie is, most of the carnage is computer-generated and has some measure of fakeness to it, enough to frustrate some fans of the genre. And Stallone provides more presence than acting, which is probably true (to lesser extent) of the previous films. Here he’s mostly relegated to thousand-mile stares and stealthy action, but it’s still a kick to see ole Rambo back in action. The best staged sequence involves a frenzied footrace-against-time to lead soldiers off the trail and into an unexpected trap—wonderfully done.

Such is the interesting and complicated dichotomy of this final installment in the Rambo franchise (and I’m not giving anything away with that when your star is 61). Stallone and company primarily deserve credit for making an action movie that’s not just violent for the sake of violence. There’s purpose to showing the madness, even if it’s hard to watch and quite literally overkill.

He’s also done well here portraying Christians in a mostly positive light. The single exception is Sarah’s fiancée Michael (perpetual TV guest star Paul Schulze), who comes across as ridiculously sanctimonious, initially treating Rambo like dirt and chastising him even after he saves their lives early on—yet even he redeems himself by the end through his actions.

Aside from him, we see a group of believers willing to enter one of the world’s worst hellholes to do the Lord’s work, offering medical assistance and preaching the gospel—you don’t see that in an action movie every day! And while the atrocities are terrible, you can’t help but think of people like Martin and Gracia Burnham in the Philippines or the South Korean missionaries murdered last year by the Taliban—or any other stories of missionary martyrdom and persecution. Movies like this help beg the question: Are believers foolish to enter such dangerous territory, or is God indeed calling us to serve in such conditions?

My problem with Rambo is that there’s no place given for such consideration. No flag-waving speech to champion such heroes or the need to put an end to it. It steers you one way, then drops the moralizing for thrills; they never quite converge. I suspect most action fans will interpret the movie as a modern equivalent to Rambo saving a busload of nuns and orphans—campy instead of consequential.

I got my answer leaving the theater, overhearing the moviegoers (aged 18-40) excitably recount their highlights: “Wow, did you see the way Rambo ripped that guy’s throat out?!?! That was awesome when he stabbed the soldier and eviscerated him!!! I loved the way Stallone shot that arrow through the guy’s head!!!”

Sounds like filmgoers got what they wanted, but did they get more than they expected? Talk about mixed movie messages—I fear the more important part of the movie gets buried in the bloodshed. You could say that Rambo shoots himself in the foot.

>Talk About It

Discussion starters

1. Do you believe God ever uses violence to achieve his will? The Old Testament is filled with battles to smite the Lord’s enemies; what do we make of that? But Jesus tells us to turn the other cheek; how do we process that? Is someone like Rambo “the hand of God” enforcing justice over evil? Or is it merely us using sin to combat sin? How do we discern a time for war and a time for peace?
2. Are missionaries like the ones in this film really changing people’s lives? Do missionaries accomplish good in dangerous places? Should they stay away from such danger and serve in only peaceful places instead? Why or why not? What should missionaries consider when deciding when and where to serve? Consider Sarah’s words: “Trying to save a life isn’t wasting your life.”
3. Does the movie explain why Rambo decides to help Sarah and the other missionaries? Why do you think he changes his mind? Explain Rambo’s statement: “Live for nothing, or die for something.”

The Family Corner

For parents to consider

Rambo is rated R for strong graphic bloody violence, sexual assaults, grisly images and language. I can’t emphasize the R rating enough. There’s all manner of profanity, and plenty of strong graphic bloody violence, sexual assaults, and grisly images to show the horrifying conditions in Burma. Christians (including children in some instances) are shot, hacked to pieces, blown apart, and/or burned. Women are raped—more implied than graphic, but enough to give you the idea. Later, Rambo arrives with guns and arrows, using a machine-gun cannon to mow down an army at point blank range, ripping out a guy’s throat with his bare hands and eviscerating another. This one’s not for kids or the squeamish or anyone unprepared to watch reenactments of horrific violence.

Photos © Copyright Lionsgate

Copyright © 2008 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

What other Christian critics are saying:

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• Past the Popcorn

Many films have been snubbed by the Oscars over the years, but for some film buffs, one of the biggest snubs in recent memory came earlier this month when a highly-acclaimed Romanian film about an illegal abortion was left off the short list—never mind the list of nominees—for the award for Best Foreign Language Film.

Certainly there was reason to believe that 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days would get the nod. The film, written and directed by Cristian Mungiu, was widely praised when it premiered at the Cannes Film Festival and won the coveted Palme D’Or, the festival’s highest honor, in May 2007; and in December, it went on to win Best Film and Best Director at the European Film Awards. But on the night that Hollywood rewards the films it likes best, 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days won’t even be a contender. Some say it is because the film, with its long takes, naturalistic lighting and handheld camerawork, has a demanding style. But some also say that it is because the film is uncommonly frank about the nature of abortion itself.

Abortion itself is not mentioned at all until about a third of the way into the film. The story starts with two female university students, Gabita (Laura Vasiliu) and Otilia (Anamaria Marinca), making plans of some sort in their dorm. It is 1987, and the Communist regime of Nicolae Ceauşescu is only two years away from collapsing—but for now, the regime remains in place, and everyday transactions that people in the free world take for granted are tainted by suspicion and corruption. Among other things, people traffic in contraband goods, using foreign cigarettes as a form of bribery when hotel staff and others look at them a little too inquisitively.

So when we finally do find out that Gabita is trying to get an abortion—a crime under Ceauşescu’s regime—it would be easy to suppose that, in light of everything else we have seen of Romanian society at that time, terminating a fetus is being presented here as just one of many morally neutral activities that has been driven underground by fear and distrust. But the film is more complex than that.

For one thing, the film is largely told from the perspective of Otilia, the helpful friend, rather than that of Gabita, the pregnant student. And Gabita, instead of being a noble martyr for the pro-choice cause, turns out to be somewhat dim and passive, in ways that understandably infuriate Otilia. Gabita’s attitude toward the abortion is also strangely conflicted, and in a way that suggests she hasn’t really thought about what she is doing. She never questions whether to get the abortion, but once it happens, she suddenly expresses concern over how the fetus is treated.

The abortion itself is handled in a way that could be seen to support both sides of the abortion debate. Bebe (Vlad Ivanov), the man who provides the abortion, berates the women for failing to follow his instructions to the letter, and the demands he makes in exchange for his services are deeply disturbing and abusive. Some viewers might conclude that crimes like his are the inevitable result when abortion itself is criminalized, and so the procedure ought to be kept legal and above-board.

But this is no pro-choice propaganda flick. Mungiu could have dwelt on the pain that Gabita presumably experiences when she finally loses her baby, or he could have made the experience a serious threat to her life; instead, the abortion itself takes place off-camera, and Gabita herself seems to recover quickly, at least physically. What’s more, the final part of the film, which deals with the disposal of the aborted fetus, confronts the viewer with the procedure’s bloody aftermath, and underscores how even Gabita feels obliged to ask Otilia to bury the child, rather than throw it away.

The only difference legalization would have made to this aspect of their experience is that someone else, such as a hospital staff member, would have been able to take care of the disposal. The women themselves would not have had to behold the results, but the fetus—seen in a tight close-up that made the audience I saw the film with gasp—would still have met the same fate. The film is so bold in portraying this reality that Jeffrey Wells, a movie blogger not known for his conservatism, praised the film, saying it affected him strongly. Wells wrote that he had helped two former girlfriends get abortions decades ago, “so I know a little bit about what it feels like peripherally (and a little bit psychologically), but I’ve never felt so immersed in the hard particulars of grappling with the reality of getting an abortion until catching this film…. I didn’t just feel moved and shaken—I felt changed after it was over.”

Wells also called it “the most persuasive anti-abortion argument in any form I’ve ever heard, seen or read,” but I don’t know that I would go quite that far. The film is not a pro-life propaganda film any more than it is a pro-choice one. What it is, is an honest, bracing, unflinching, compassionate work of art—superbly acted, staged, and directed—and quite possibly an even more balanced treatment of its subject matter than Mike Leigh’s Vera Drake,which concerned an illegal abortion provider in 1950s England.

But for some, the film may have been too honest and bracing. After a year in which films like Juno and Knocked Up were criticized for dismissing abortion as a legitimate option, 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days finally gives those critics what they wanted: a woman who not only considers aborting her child, but goes ahead and does so. But the fact that the film doesn’t stop there may have hurt its chances with the Academy; Wells, among others, has speculated that the film was snubbed partly because the shot of the dead fetus was too much for some people.

Oh, well. Mungiu’s film is still a compelling portrait of strained relationships, personal trauma and social decay, and it deserves to be seen by as wide an audience as possible, with or without the Academy’s imprimatur.

Talk About It

Discussion starters

1. Is this movie about abortion, or is abortion a metaphor for something else? Both? What would the “something else” be?
2. Does anything in this film change your opinion on abortion and whether it should be legal? Do you think the film takes a stand on the issue?
3. Why do you think Gabita asks Otilia to bury the fetus, instead of throwing it away? Why would a woman who had chosen to abort her own child go on to treat it as though it deserved to be treated with human dignity? Why does Otilia do what she does with the fetus?
4. Have you ever helped a friend to do something illegal or unethical? What? Why? How would you have responded if someone had made demands like the ones Bebe makes?

The Family Corner

For parents to consider

4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days is not rated by the MPAA, but it includes brief nudity, sexually coercive dialogue, and a graphic depiction of a dead fetus. (If it had been submitted for an MPAA rating, it would probably have been rated R.)

Photos © Copyright IFC Films

Copyright © 2008 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

What other Christian critics are saying:

• Plugged In
• Crosswalk
• Catholic News Service
• Past the Popcorn

If nothing else, U23D is a landmark technical achievement. Its list of firsts is impressive: first live-action film to be shot, edited, and shown entirely in 3D; first-ever 3D multicamera shoot; first film to utilize all of the world’s 3D cameras for one single project, etc. Indeed, though the subject matter (a U2 concert) is fun enough, this is a film that is first and foremost a technological show-off—and deservedly so.

The experience of sight and sound that one encounters in U23D is undeniably breathtaking. When the film—directed by longtime U2 visual effects collaborator Catherine Owens—begins with the bang that is “Vertigo,” it takes a few minutes to adjust to the 3D gimmick (and make no mistake, it is a bit of a gimmick). But by the second song (“New Year’s Day”) the film’s rapturous energy and high-impact sensory-overload has you in its grip. High-definition 3D cameras soar above the stadium crowds, swooping and weaving in and around the band and the screaming throngs with cell phone “lighters” in the air. It’s a strikingly immersive experience, and were it not for the conspicuous lacking of concert smells (sweat, beer, controlled substances) and touch sensations (sweat, wind, rambunctious bodies), you might think you were there.

Filmed over the span of seven shows in Mexico, Brazil, Chile and Argentina, U23D puts the spectator right in the midst of a stadium concert experience from the band’s 2006 Vertigo tour. Similar to the various HBO-aired concerts (Justin Timberlake, Madonna, etc), U23D comes about a year after the tour ended, providing a cheaper “better late than never” alternative for those of us who missed the live experience. Of course, such concert films typically don’t even compare to actually being there, but U23D comes awfully close.

Smartly eschewing traditional “concert film” elements such as backstage interviews and behind-the-scenes photography, U23D instead puts all the attention on the concert itself. And what a concert it is. Those who have seen U2 live can attest to their pulsating passion and inspiring stage presence. But at least half of the power comes from the audience, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen audiences quite like the ones featured in this film. A fierce, revolutionary fervor rumbles forth from the soccer stadiums in Sao Paulo and Buenos Aires—unleashed by high-impact songs like “Beautiful Day” and politically-charged anthems like “Sunday Bloody Sunday” and “Bullet the Blue Sky.”

Indeed, the concert as a whole is highly political (perhaps “activist” is a better word) in tone—even for U2. Perhaps invoking the Latin American revolutionary spirit of Che Guevera, Bono hypes up the crowd with calls for unity and solidarity against war and injustice. Always the pop-provocateur, the “sunglassed-one” dons his infamous “Coexist” headband through a multiple-song cycle. The headband uses the crescent symbol of Islam as the “C,” the star of David as “x,” and the Christian cross as the “t.” Bono then repeats a universalist-sounding quip in which it sounds like he’s saying, “Jesus, Jew, Mohammed is true, all sons of Abraham” while various “togetherness” images and words flash on the massive jumbotrons behind him. But many other U2 fans who caught the Vertigo tour insist that Bono is saying, “Jesus, Jew, Mohammed … it’s true, all sons of Abraham,” which could be interpreted quite differently. The former quote seems to imply that all three religions—Christianity, Judaism, and Islam—are all equally “true,” a claim which Christians among U2 fans might find unsettling. But the latter quote seems to only claim that all three—Jesus, Jew, Mohammed—are descended from a common father, Abraham, a much more accepted statement. The fact that this sequence occurs during “Sunday, Bloody Sunday,” an anti-war song, seems to indicate that Bono is merely calling for peace based on the common ground of our historical roots. Whatever one’s interpretation, the crowd in the film loves this segment, and it’s all in the name of love (to use a U2 phrase).

The socially conscious elements elsewhere in the concert are notably less controversial, usually featured in the background visuals. Images of Martin Luther King Jr., somber little girls reciting the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and an assortment of Latin American flags (interestingly during “The Streets Have No Name”) are just some of the curious visuals attached to the music of the concert.

The concert’s visual effects are only heightened by the 3D technology, which creates an interesting illusion of Flash-esque layering. In the song “The Fly,” for example, a barrage of words and screen-size letters are layered over each other during the band’s performance, creating a trippy, totally unique effect that maximizes the 3D potential. At visually stunning moments like these, the 3D form really does feel like the new frontier.

As fun and novel and sometimes enthralling as U23D is, however, there are a few questions it raises. Namely: Why does it exist? Do we really need an IMAX concert film about U2? Does Bono really need to be five stories tall and in 3D (perhaps his ego does need this)? And is there a big enough audience for something like this?

Taking a few steps back and assessing the state of Hollywood today, U23D begins to make a little more sense. This is an industry undergoing a serious crisis of confidence. Suddenly Hollywood is finding that technology and its subsequent new consumer patterns are outpacing their own projections and plans. People are increasingly ditching primetime TV for Internet TV, Blockbuster for Netflix, AMC for On-Demand, etc. You might see IMAX and these types of glossy techno-spectacles as a direct answer to the threat posed by moviegoers deserting theaters for computer screens or home entertainment systems. In the age of HD and Blu-ray, Hollywood has to play its technological cards close to the vest. In other words—it has to keep coming up with reasons why people should go out to the theater. As soon as technologies can be matched at home, it’ll be over for theatrical exhibition. IMAX is thriving, in part, because so far no home has been able to replicate the experience of a five-story screen with 70mm and 3D projection capabilities.

In the case of U23D, the IMAX 3D treatment is clearly the next best thing to actually being at a live concert. Whether it’s The Edge enshrouded in backlit fog, or an ocean of cell phone lights waving in the air to “Miss Sarajevo,” there are plenty goosebump moments to go around. And if multiple goosebump moments are the measure of a successful film, U23D is definitely a winner.

Talk About It

Discussion starters

1. Do you think 3D technology is the next frontier of theatrical entertainment?
2. What do you make of Bono “the Christian do-gooder” and Bono “the rock star”—are they in conflict? (For more on both of these sides of Bono, see this CT article.)
3. What is Bono trying to convey in his “Jesus, Jew, Mohammed is true” line? What’s wrong with that line? Is anything right about it?
4. Why do you think the filmmakers chose to mostly use footage from South American concerts?

The Family Corner

For parents to consider

U23D is unrated. For a rock concert film, it contains little to no objectionable material. It is appropriate for parents and children, and the 3D effects will hold the attention of kids too young to be fans of U2’s music. The only questionable thing is the segment when Bono puts on the “Coexist” bandana and repeats the phrase “Jesus, Jew, Mohammed is true.” This might confuse some young viewers, though in general this is a highly entertaining film suitable for the whole family.

Photos © Copyright National Geographic Entertainment

Copyright © 2008 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

What other Christian critics are saying:

1. Plugged In
2. Crosswalk
3. Catholic News Service
4. Past the Popcorn

I love movies like this. But, sad to say, I didn’t love this movie. I hoped I would, but one clunker after another kept accumulating—a hackneyed character here, a stupid line of dialogue there—until it was sounding like a sneaker in a dryer.

That’s too bad, because this format has been the foundation of some terrific, thought-provoking films. You take a sizeable number of characters, most of whom have never met, and set their stories in motion. As the multiple plots unfold, each character is being drawn closer to the center, where a resolution awaits that, in the best of these films, can be simultaneously unexpected and inevitable.

Let’s coin a term and call them “drawstring” movies, a subset of the genre known as “ensemble” films. Among the best examples are Robert Altman’s Nashville (1976) and Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia (1999), but even those that fall shorter, like Love Actually (2003) or Grand Canyon (1991), can still tantalize and endear, because the format itself provides such rich possibilities.

Some drawstring films have truly sprawling casts—in Nashville there are 24 main characters—but The Air I Breathe proposes something more tidy. There are four main characters, and they bear the names Happiness, Pleasure, Sorrow, and Love. These represent what is termed a “Chinese proverb,” that these are the basic four emotions of life. (Seems a bit truncated for a proverb, doesn’t it? I’d call it a list.)

As each character is introduced, the emotion he or she represents appears onscreen, though what we’re looking at may seem contradictory. For example, the film begins with a shot of Forest Whitaker slumped against a wall, sobbing, holding a gun; then the word “Happiness” flashes onscreen. He tells us in voiceover that in childhood he knew “the secret to a happy life:” obey the rules and work hard. “And if you work hard in school, your reward is—more school.” At this point there’s a nifty sequence: the camera glides continuously to the right and reveals him, first, as a child writing at his desk in an elementary-school classroom, then as an adolescent in a middle-school classroom, and then as a young adult in a college classroom. “And after more school,” his voice goes on, “you are given the best that life has to offer”—the camera comes to rest to reveal him seated in the middle of a huge desk-farm of an office. He’s not happy.

Let’s continue with this Happiness sequence, because it illustrates what is both faulty and impressive about this film. It won’t spoil much, since the scene comes at the beginning and takes only fifteen minutes, but if you want to preserve every bit of suspense, you’d better stop reading here.

In the plus column, we can note that Whitaker is terrific in the role—his “Happiness” is a timid, gentle, habit-bound creature, who quickly wins our sympathy. He happens to be in the bathroom one day when some co-workers duck in to discuss a fixed horse-race. (They glance under the doors but he has pulled his feet up onto the toilet seat.) He decides that he has to take a risk if he’s going to achieve happiness, and bets on “Butterfly”—in fact, bets more than he can pay. But the horse stumbles, the race is lost, and Happiness winds up in a shadowy den being threatened by a mob boss. Why did he bet on “Butterfly”? Trembling, he explains: “Because I heard my co-workers … and,” voice dropping, “I like butterflies.”

There’s a lot to admire in the “Happiness” story, and if you stick with the movie you’ll continue to get rewards along that line, although in a diminishing train. So what’s crummy? The basic thesis of this sequence—for example, that this shy character would arrive at true happiness by robbing a bank and being shot down by cops. It’s just not true that taking a risk brings happiness even if you lose, and it would seem the character had already learned this, when the mob boss, Fingers, was shoving him around.

Yep, he’s named “Fingers,” just one of many elements that might have been generated by a screenwriting-for-dummies software program. Here’s some more: a patient climbs the stairs to a hospital roof trailing a 30-foot drape of sheer, flowing white fabric. Where did she get it? Why is she toting it? Why is it suddenly a lot shorter when she gets there? There’s no reasonable explanation, but if you guessed that you’ll see it floating gently and photogenically through the air later on, you’d be right. One character accidentally killed his brother in childhood, and another saw her dad accidentally killed in childhood; this kind of material is strong and must be used sparingly, because doubling it like this destroys its power.

A character steps off a roof, and another character trying to rescue her slips off the roof as well, and both end up dangling from his grasp of a bent metal pole. Next scene, both are safe inside. I don’t believe that kind of thing outside of Road Runner cartoons. A character will die unless she gets a transfusion of an extremely rare blood type; another character just happens to have that blood type, and mentions it on a TV show that a doctor just happens to overhear. That deus should get back in the machina and stay there.

In short, many of the artistic elements in The Air I Breathe are excellent, but too much of the basic framework—the plot, dialogue, and action—is shallow and unconvincing. Unless you are a diehard fan of these actors, you can save your breath. There are better drawstring movies out there.

Talk About It

Discussion starters

1. Pleasure takes little pleasure in anything, because he can partly see the future but can’t do anything to change it. So he says, “I never let myself want anything.” When he’s severely beaten he shows true pleasure for the first time, because he didn’t see it coming. He feels liberated, because now he can believe that his actions can actually have consequences. He says, “I can change someone’s life, make it worse or better.” What would it be like to be able to foresee an unchangeable future? Would it be better to not have that knowledge, and believe that your actions can direct it? How does this affect the way we think about God’s foreknowledge?
2. Sorrow is waiting for her TV interview to begin, and the jovial host assures her that he asks questions no one else does. For once, it’s true—despite his bouncy demeanor, his questions are tough and make her face the artificiality of her situation. How do you think other celebrities respond to questions like these? How might that change the way we treat celebrities?
3. The line occurs twice that “Scars are the roadmap to the soul.” Is this true? What might be a better “roadmap”—wrinkles, perhaps? Why?

The Family Corner

For parents to consider

The Air I Breathe is rated R for violence, language and some sexual content/nudity. Episodes of violence are lengthy and lavish, though the impact is lessened by quick cutting that makes it hard to tell exactly what’s happening. There is a shadowy, “tasteful” sex scene, and some female nudity in a strip bar. And there’s rough language throughout.

Photos © Copyright ThinkFilm

Copyright © 2008 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

What other Christian critics are saying:

• Plugged In
• Crosswalk
• Catholic News Service
• Past the Popcorn

Adapted from Oxygen: Deep Breathing for the Soul (Revell)

As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him. “Good teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, you shall not defraud, honor your father and mother.'”

“Teacher,” he declared, “all these I have kept since I was a boy.”

Jesus looked at him and loved him. “One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth.

Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!”

The disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for the rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

The disciples were even more amazed, and said to each other, “Who then can be saved?”

Jesus looked at them and said, “With human beings this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.”
(Mark 10:17–27)

Just before he’s approached by this young man, Jesus had a group of children on his lap. They illustrated a great truth: Childlike faith and trust is necessary if we are to enter the kingdom. Our own accomplishments are not enough.

Children in Jesus’ day were not soccer stars by the time they were five, nor did they assume that the world revolved around them. They quickly learned that was not the case. To be childlike was to know that you were basically unimportant.

As Jesus leaves the children, this wealthy young man strides over. If he lived today, I imagine he might be busy checking on his investments on his cell phone as he hurries along. “I’ve got people to see, places to be, but I need to get some info—how can I inherit eternal life?”

He’s already inherited a lot, most likely—the first century equivalent of a 401(k), a vacation home on the Sea of Galilee, and a condo in Jerusalem. He also thinks his balance sheet is in order spiritually—he’s kept all the rules, or thinks he has. He wants to make sure he’s got this “eternity” thing nailed down, too.

Jesus doesn’t tell him, “To inherit eternal life you need to keep the commandments.” He says, “No one is good—except God alone” (v. 18 TNIV). His point here is: Okay, you just called me ‘good’—does that mean you believe I’m God? Or just a ‘good teacher’?

I think Jesus is also pointing out to him: You think it’s about ‘being good,’ but it’s not. It’s about humility. Don’t you wonder if this young man saw Jesus interacting with the children just moments before? Jesus is trying to tell him that accomplishments, whether they are in the business or financial realm or in keeping the religious rules, don’t help. No one is good.

Then Jesus says, “You know the commandments” (v. 19). He’s not saying that they are the way to eternal life either. He’s just stating a fact: You know those commandments, right? I don’t know, but I wonder if he was going to say, “You know those commandments? They are not really going to be enough to get you eternal life either,” except that the man interrupts to say that he’s basically never sinned.

Pretty cheeky, this guy. He’s called Jesus good, and Jesus responds with: Oh, really? Do you believe you’re having a conversation with God? And if you do, you have the nerve to say you’ve never broken a commandment, including that one about “false testimony”—that is, lying? Really?

Jesus knows this guy has his priorities totally screwed up. He’s moving too fast; he’s not even really paying attention to the conversation he’s having. He just wants an insurance policy. He wants to cross “eternal life” off his shopping list.

Amazingly, Jesus does not get annoyed. He sees right through this wealthy young man. He’s rude, he’s a liar, he’s flippantly sycophantic, calling Jesus “good teacher.” He’s pretty sure he can buy his way into heaven somehow.

What just floors me about Jesus in this story is verse 21: “Jesus looked at him and loved him.”

Really? He loved him?

I am not always humble when I come to Jesus. I am sometimes hurried, taking his attention for granted. I’m not proud of it, but I can act like this young man. I can be a jerk in my interactions with Jesus sometimes.

When I am this way, I sometimes think that Jesus will be annoyed with me or angry. He will sigh, roll his eyes, shake his head. Love me less, somehow.

The amazing truth is that we all come to Jesus, at least once in a while, like this young man. Selfish, hurried, deluded about our strengths, blind to our shortcomings.

And Jesus looks at us and loves us. Loves us.

Later Jesus says, “All things are possible with God” (v. 27).

The impossible thing that God makes possible is that we, in our sin, in our self-absorption, are loved by him.

Learn more about Oxygen and Keri’s other books, at www.keriwyattkent.com.

Copyright © 2008 Promiseland.

By now, you’ve likely heard about the “First Take” co-host’s drunken rant at a January 11 roast for ESPN colleagues Mike Greenberg and Mike Golic. Jacobson, it appears, got carried away in denigrating Golic’s alma mater, Notre Dame, and dropped F-bombs on the school, Touchdown Jesus (the famous mural on Notre Dame’s campus), and Jesus himself.

Groups like the Christian Anti-Defamation Commission, the Catholic League, and the Christian Defense Coalition have been quick to point out the offensiveness of the statement, comparing it to bigoted statements about Jews, Muslims, or African Americans. While ESPN suspended Jacobson for a week, the Christian Defense Coalition’s director, the Rev. Patrick J. Mahoney, called for more. “Her comments are so outrageous and inflammatory that the only proper response for ESPN is to immediately release her,” said Mahoney. “Suspension is simply not enough and sends a message that ESPN tolerates this kind of behavior and speech.”

Personally, I can’t see that firing Jacobson accomplishes much, besides showing that Christians can flex their muscles and get people fired just as well as any other group. “Bless those who persecute you,” Paul writes in Romans 12:14, “bless and do not curse.” As followers of Christ, we’d be better served by an ESPN-arranged meeting between Jacobson and a group of local pastors. She could apologize in person – something she’s already done in a prepared statement – and they could explain, with grace and understanding, why they accept her apology in the name of the one she denigrated.

But all that is less important, to my mind, than an issue raised indirectly by the Chicago Tribune’s Manya Brachear. She wrote yesterday on her blog, The Seeker: “Jacobson works for a sports channel, and sports rivalries can get heated. Should she have restrained herself? Or, when you’re up against a religious institution, is their chief sponsor fair game?”

That Jesus, or any religious figure, can be treated as part of the hype and hysteria surrounding a sports team – something like the Dallas Cowboys’ cheerleaders or Duke’s Cameron Crazies – indicates something unbalanced about our country’s sports obsession. This is an obsession I share, so I am speaking as much to myself here as to anyone else. In CT’s September 2007 cover story, “Why We Love Football,” Eric Miller pointed out that sports can become a channel of common grace, of community and fellowship and shared dreams. Yet he also noted the ever-present temptation of fans to worship the teams they follow.

John Calvin wrote that “the human heart is a factory of idols.” The last time I checked, taking the Lord’s name in vain was a sin, a breaking of the Third Commandment. But so, too, is having any other gods before the one true God, the subject of the First Commandment. The underlying issue in Jacobson’s curse wasn’t blasphemy, but idolatry. In that failing, she certainly isn’t alone.

For decades and even centuries, Baptists have been known for preaching the gospel, baptizing the converted, and, with their sheer numbers, shaping the face of American Christianity.

At the same time, their internal squabbles, racial and ideological splits, and sometimes controversial positions have cemented the impression that the thing Baptists most agree on is their penchant for disagreement.

Now, prominent Baptists hope an upcoming “Celebration of a New Baptist Covenant” in Atlanta (Jan. 30-Feb. 1) will help change that by focusing on what Baptists are for, not what they’re against.

“We want to demonstrate to the world that Christians, including Baptists, can work in harmony, that we can accommodate differences of philosophy and theology,” said former U.S. President Jimmy Carter, a co-chairman of the celebration.

As they gather to focus on issues like caring for the poor and promoting peace, the big brother in the Baptist family, the Southern Baptist Convention, is not an official participant. Top leaders of the nation’s largest Protestant denomination were not involved in the planning, but Carter has told Southern Baptist president Frank Page that “everybody’s invited.”

Last year, Page blasted what he called the group’s “smoke screen left-wing liberal agenda,” even as he appreciated efforts to help “a hurting world.” In a recent interview, Page said he still has concerns, but promised Carter he would pray for the meeting, which he expects some Southern Baptists to attend.

“He has assured me that it will be a positive meeting and not be a conservative-bashing meeting,” Page said of Carter. “I do pray that it will be a very positive, Christ-honoring meeting.”

Organizers insist the event, which has more than 30 participating organizations, will be nonpartisan, even as Carter, former President Bill Clinton, and former Vice President Al Gore are among the headliners.

“We’ve made every effort to be inclusive of both Democrats and Republicans, being very much aware that we’re in an election cycle,” said the Rev. David Goatley, president of the North American Baptist Fellowship and a co-chair of the celebration.

Indeed, some Republicans will share the stage with Carter and Clinton, including Senators Lindsay Graham of South Carolina and Chuck Grassley of Iowa, who will focus on the theme of “welcoming the stranger.”

Presidential candidate Mike Huckabee, who pastored Southern Baptist churches in Arkansas before he entered politics, initially agreed to speak at the event but later withdrew.

The Atlanta meeting follows other attempts in recent years to bring Baptists together. Predominantly white Baptist leaders have met to mend fences as historically black Baptist groups have tried to set aside their own past rivalries and differences.

Four black Baptist churches will be meeting before the Atlanta gathering, and officials hope that will help diversify the 10,000 to 20,000 people expected at the Georgia World Congress Center.

In fact, black Baptist leaders insisted the meeting not be one of “self-congratulation,” Carter said, but instead yield tangible results.

“I am hopeful that it will not have been just a feel-good meeting,” said the Rev. William J. Shaw, president of the predominantly black National Baptist Convention, USA, and another co-chair of the celebration.

“We should not deceive ourselves into believing that the mission of Jesus is just a feel-good mission.”

Copyright © 2008 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

Related Elsewhere:

The Celebration of a New Baptist Covenant‘s three-point covenant is available on their website.

Our other coverage of U.S. Baptists includes:

TULIP Blooming | Southern Baptist seminaries re-introduce Calvinism to a wary denomination. (January 17, 2008)

Immersed in a Baptism Brouhaha | Changes of heart renew centuries-old divisions. (September 28, 2007)

Reasonable Cause | Southern Baptists debate the role of their Message in hiring, firing. (July 23, 2007)

Brewing Battle | Missouri Baptists frown on beer as evangelistic hook. (June 29, 2007)