A film project. That’s what we are working on. The nature of the project lends itself to controversy, but through it the exploration of life lived may have a profound impact on how we view others. That is my belief, my hope anyway.
One of the guys in our group recommended I watch this film. I did. It contains many elements of tough, inner city, life, struggle, and much more.
I can’t recommend it to everyone - It is a HARD R rating with pervasive language that many would find too offensive to sit through. But it is so much more than that. There are a couple of very poignant moments that leave you breathless, heart broken, fearful and nervous.
The direction of this film puts into perspective deep issues that many have struggled with in different ways, and presents it in a tough, inner city approach that brings real life into the living room, and for me touches something deep down that is hard to describe but worthy of exploration.
Be warned - If you decide to view the film, it is raw, gritty, tough to listen to and watch at times. Not particularly violent, but the acting is superb and the moments where expression without words, realization of what just happened, struggling with recognizing oneself, and much more can be had if you can get past the language and a couple of questionable content elements.
There are a couple of fathers here that bring to life the realities of real fatherhood and impact, good and bad that a fathers influence has…
When you do something for someone else, don’t call attention to yourself. You’ve seen them in action, I’m sure—’playactors’ I call them— treating prayer meeting and street corner alike as a stage, acting compassionate as long as someone is watching, playing to the crowds. They get applause, true, but that’s all they get. When you help someone out, don’t think about how it looks. Just do it—quietly and unobtrusively. That is the way your God, who conceived you in love, working behind the scenes, helps you out - Matthew 6:3-5 (The Message)
Currently one of my video projects is to edit a 3 min video for a survivor audition tape. I didn’t get to shoot the footage so I have to use what was provided. That would be good if what was provided was of use. There is barely 5 min worth of footage to create with, and what is there needs desperately to be shot again. At least that was my initial reaction.
Then I heard a message from my pastor yesterday and I realized that gifts are gifts, as provided. Use them to do with what you will, hopefully in a way that is honoring and fulfilling. Now, the message was not about gifts, but about recognition, second chances, opportunities and seizing the moments. When we struggle to achieve it is frustrating and typically riddled with less than the best. I find it difficult when I approach something with the idea that I could do better, rather than the simple grace that allows for others to be themselves, and through that see the beauty and the gem that someone else is holding.
While not everything may appear to be a beautiful gem to us, that does not mean it isn’t to someone else. “One man’s treasure…” is an old saying but has many implications as to what we value and how we approach those valuables.
When I see the video work that I am to create a super selling audition tape from, I am faced with a choice. I can use what I have, and trust God to work through me so that the person receiving the finished product will be pleased and excited that their chances of being chosen just increased, or I can utilize my own way of thinking and ”do it my way”.
Peter the apostle had chances, and took risks. He failed miserably and succeeded in the process. We can all learn from that example. Using what we have, being happy with who we are, and using the gifts God gave us to work out our salvation is a process that is ever changing, but is always fulfilling.
As I take another look at the survivor project, and review the footage, I can see that God gives new eyes to look at it through the filter of grace. A grace to find the best in what I have, is the same as finding the best in people. We usually don’t have to look to far when we use Christ as our compass. Christ is in EVERYTHING, and even in this project…If I just recognize Him, it becomes easy to select the right moments, the right words, the right music….
Psalm 104:29-31
When you turn away from them, they become frightened.
When you take away their breath, they die and turn to dust.
When you breathe on them, they are created,
and you make the land new again.
May the glory of the Lord be forever. May the Lord enjoy what he has made.
John Hancock
1st Signer of the Declaration of Independence
“Resistance to tyranny becomes the Christian and social duty of each individual. … Continue steadfast and, with a proper sense of your dependence on God, nobly defend those rights which heaven gave, and no man ought to take from us.”
John Adams
2nd U.S. President and Signer of the Declaration of Independence
“Suppose a nation in some distant Region should take the Bible for their only law Book, and every member should regulate his conduct by the precepts there exhibited! Every member would be obliged in conscience, to temperance, frugality, and industry; to justice, kindness, and charity towards his fellow men; and to piety, love, and reverence toward Almighty God … What a Eutopia, what a Paradise would this region be.”
Benjamin Franklin
Signer of the Declaration of Independence and Unites States Constitution
“Here is my Creed. I believe in one God, the Creator of the Universe. That He governs it by His Providence. That He ought to be worshipped.
That the most acceptable service we render to him is in doing good to his other children. That the soul of man is immortal, and will be treated with justice in another life respecting its conduct in this. These I take to be the fundamental points in all sound religion, and I regard them as you do in whatever sect I meet with them.
As to Jesus of Nazareth, my opinion of whom you particularly desire, I think the system of morals and his religion, as he left them to us, is the best the world ever saw, or is likely to see;
But I apprehend it has received various corrupting changes, and I have, with most of the present dissenters in England, some doubts as to his divinity; though it is a question I do not dogmatize upon, having never studied it, and think it needless to busy myself with it now, when I expect soon an opportunity of knowing the truth with less trouble. I see no harm, however, in its being believed, if that belief has the good consequence, as probably it has, of making his doctrines more respected and more observed; especially as I do not perceive, that the Supreme takes it amiss, by distinguishing the unbelievers in his government of the world with any peculiar marks of his displeasure.”
Ever feel like the elephant in the room? I do. At least sometimes. It is tough to feel different and have a voice at the same time.
But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy - 1 Peter 2:9-10
I struggle with trying to stay clear of the mold. Often times I wonder if it’s intentional or just part of my DNA. Forever it has been the latter, at least from my point of view.
There was a time when the elephant was bigger, and there was a time when the elephant was noisier and more self motivated. Today, the elephant is more calm and ready to take on more challenges with less need to trumpet. Not that trumpeting is bad, but it can be noisy and irritating.
So, where is this going? Belonging to something good, something right, something holy, something pure. That has always been a desire of my heart but I always believed that I would simply be the guy who didn’t belong. For many years I would struggle with why I never fit in. Being the one labeled the squeaky wheel, the trouble maker, etc. was not a label I enjoyed, but had accepted as something I must be destined to be because no matter where I found myself, that was the result over time.
While I rarely was concerned about what other people think of me, I was genuinely concerned with how to correct whatever wrongs I found in any situation. That need has been calmed, as I have become more in tune with what God wants for me in my life. It is still a struggle to try to figure it all out, but I have become more at peace and more accepting of the fact that I cannot in my own strength determine everything I am supposed to do, be or become.
What I can be thankful for is the relationships I have been blessed with, the ability to finally feel like a piece of a larger puzzle. There is no clear cut black and white answers, but there is a peace that I have never experienced before. Again today I had the opportunity to reflect and discuss these things in depth. God has brought me to a place where I can belong, where I feel like I can fit in. My voice is no longer silenced but rather requested from time to time. My opinions and thoughts are listened to rather than feared or rejected, and my walk with the Lord has been such a sweet experience as I have stepped out in faith to do what he has asked me to do, and through that he has honored, blessed, and lifted me up.
Forever I will be thankful for this season, this time of change and these opportunities to live and work in “the rest” of God. He wants us to belong, and he longs for us to believe…
As a journalist, I decided to go to the animal shelter, and interview some of the “inmates”. I wanted to know what it was like in there from their perspective.
I entered the building, and one of the workers accompanied me to the holding area. This is where dogs are kept before they are allowed up for adoption. IF they are allowed up for adoption. If the dogs are found to be aggressive in any way, euthanasia is employed. Fortunately, if “fortunately” is the word to be used here. In this establishment, and they use lethal injection, not a gas chamber.
The shelter worker led me past a big steel door that says “Employees Only”. “What is in there?” I asked. From the look he gave me, I knew that this is where dogs go in, and never return.
We moved on to a row of kennels. The dogs were barking loudly, there was the acrid smell of urine and feces, and a feeling of despair seemed to permeate the room.
“Go ahead,” the worker said. “They’re all yours.”
Pete Pitbull
I looked into the first kennel, and saw only the back of a medium sized dog who was curled up in the corner of his kennel, shivering. He was mostly white, with some black spots. “Hello?” I said. “May I come in?” He lifted his head, as though it weighed more than he could bear. When he looked at me, I could see he was a Pitbull. His eyes were gentle, but filled with grief.
“Enter,” was all he said.
I stepped in, closing the gate behind me. He put his head back down, facing away from me. I crouched down a few feet away.
“My name is Pete. Petey my Master called me,” he said, still not looking at me.
“Why are you here Pete?” I asked.
“I am here because Master cannot afford to move. I am here because someone with power said I am vicious, and a killer. Someone who never met me. Master took me for a walk one day, and some lady started to scream when she saw me. I got frightened, and barked at her. The dog police came, and they took me away. I have been with Master for 10 years. The last time I saw him, he just held me and cried. He kept telling me he was sorry. I worry for him. Whatever will he do without me?” Pete shivered even more.
A tear slid down my face. I am supposed to remain objective, but this was wrong. So wrong.
“Thank you Pete.” I said. He said nothing as I got up and left his kennel.
Popper - Border Collie
The kennel next to Pete’s held a very young looking dog. Pure Border Collie by my guess. He stood on his hind legs, looking at me through the gate.
“Hello. My name’s Popper. He tilted his head. “Are you here to take me home?”
“No, I’m sorry,” I replied. “But I would like to talk with you.”
“Sure. What would you like to talk about?”
“Popper, how did you come to be in this place?” I asked.
Popper dropped down from the gate, with a perplexed look on his face. He walked to the back of the kennel, then back to the front. I noticed he had one blue eye, and one brown. He was quite beautiful. His black and white coat was shiny and thick.
“I am not certain WHY I am here. I think maybe my family will come back for me. They bought me when I was only 6 weeks old. I remember they said how smart Border Collies are, and how it would be so easy to train me. They were very excited at first. The little ones played with me all the time. But the trouble with little Masters is, they refuse to stay in a group. I constantly had to nip their heels to keep them together.” He looked confused. “Why won’t they stay in a group?” he sighed. “So I did what I thought I should do. I am not quite sure why the little ones screamed when I did my job, but they did, and the Masters got very angry at me. They also got angry when I had to relieve myself, and did so in the house. I am not sure where they expected me to go. All they said was that I was the smartest breed in the world, and I should just KNOW better. Then they left me in the yard for a month or so. I got bored a lot, and I dug holes in the grass. The next thing I knew, the Masters brought me here.”
Popper jumped back up on the gate, his white paws protruding through the links. He looked at me with his lovely eyes, and asked “Will you please let them know I want to come home? Please tell them I promise I will be good?”
“I will Popper,” I said.
Spartan - Rottweiler
My heart was breaking. I was beginning to regret coming here, but their stories had to be told. I moved along. The next dog I saw looked to be easily 100 lbs., a Rottweiler. He was handsome indeed, except for the scars on his face and back. He tilted his head, and looked me right in the eyes.
“Hello. Who are you?” he asked.
“I am a reporter,” I replied. “May I speak with you for a little while?”
“Most certainly. My name is Spartan. You ca n come in, I won’t bite,” he said.
“Thank you Spartan. I will.”
I entered his kennel, reached out and stroked his giant head. He made a loud grumbling noise, and closed his eyes.
“Spartan, why are you here?”
Before he could answer my question, he was suddenly in the grip of a nasty coughing spasm. It sounded painful.
“Please excuse me,” he said when it passed. “Kennel cough. It seems all of us who come in here get it. “Why am I here? Well, about two years ago, I was born in the backyard of some person I can’t even recall. I had 11 brothers and sisters. I recall a day when a big man came and gave that person some money, and took me away from my mother. They had to chain her up, as she was very angry that he took me. They chained her and beat her. I came to know the man by the name of Jim. I overheard him telling his friends that I would grow up to be big and mean like my mother. But as I grew older, all I wanted to do was play and be friends wit h everyone. Jim said I needed to be taught how to be mean, so he chained me up in the yard. No more house for me, he said, I was too spoiled.
When people came by to visit, I was so happy to see them. I wanted them to come and play. But that made Jim angry, so he beat me with sticks and chains. When he came near, I would roll onto my back so he would know I wasn’t a bad dog. That made him beat me more.” Spartan’s eyes clouded with grief. “Then he brought me here.”
I reached out and stroked Spartan’s massive gentle head once more. “I am so sorry Spartan. Some people are just plain evil.” I gave him a kiss and left his kennel.
As I walked away, Spartan called out, “What will happen to me, nice lady?”
I shook my head. “I can’t say Spartan. Maybe someone kind will come and get you. We can only hope.”
Patsy - Jack Russell Terrier
I walked a little further down. I could see a shape moving at the back of the next kennel. “Hello?” I called out. Suddenly the shape lunged at the gate in a fury, barking and gnashing its teeth. I stumbled backwards, and crashed into an adjacent kennel. The other dogs began barking loudly and jumping at their gates.
“Don’t go near her,” a small female voice came from behind me. “She’s mad.”
I gathered myself back together, and saw a little Jack Russell Terrier behind me.
“Thanks for the warning,” I was still trembling. Across the way, the other dog, apparently a Husky and German Shepherd cross, was glaring at me, lips curled back revealing brown stained teeth. Her ribs and hips showed through her dull, matted grey coat. The little dog invited me into her kennel, and I gladly went in.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Patsy.” The little brown and white dog held a paw up to the gate in greeting.
“My owner surrendered me. She said she wanted a cute little dog like the one on the TV show, Frasier. She didn’t bother to look into the type of dog I am.” Patsy heaved a sigh.
“I suppose she expected me to just lie about and only need a short walk each day, just like Eddie , but my energy was so high that I needed to run and play.” She glanced at her surroundings. “Now I am here. I suppose it could be worse. I could be like.her.” Patsy looked towards the still growling dog across the way.
“What happened to make her so vicious?” I asked.
“From what we could gather,” she replied. “she was found tied in a back yard. She only had a three foot chain. Some days there was no water. Rarely was there any food. One day a nice neighbor came by and brought her some meat. By then it was too late. She was already mad. She broke off her chain, and bit the poor man badly. We know she will be going behind the steel door. I am sad to say, I think it will be best. Perhaps then she will know some peace.”
Just then, the door at the end of the building opened, and a woman stepped inside. All the dogs began to bark wildly, then one by one, they went quiet.
I whispered to Patsy, “Who is that? Why have all the dogs gone quiet?”
Patsy breathed deeply through her little nose, and closed her eyes. “SHE is a Rescuer. Can’t you smell it?” she asked.
“Smell what?” I was confused.
“Compassion. Love. Sorrow. It emanates from her pores. She is here for one of us, but nobody knows who just yet.” Patsy looked hopeful.
The Rescuer moved from kennel to kennel, looking at each dog. I sat quietly watching. I could see tears in her eyes as she made eye contact with each one. She stopped at Spartan’s cage and spoke quietly to him.
“No more beatings my man. No more. You are coming with me. From here on in, it’s all going to get better.”
The Rescuer produced a leash, opened the kennel door, and took Spartan away. As he walked beside her, his little stubby tail wagged with delight.
Patsy sighed again. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, and it grieved me. They all had the same look, as they watched The Rescuer depart.
“I am so sorry Patsy,” I said in a whisper. “But you are a little dog, and everyone loves little dogs. I am convinced you will be rescued soon.” Patsy’s brown eyes twinkled at me, a little bit of hope returning.
I had heard and seen enough. I needed to tell people how it was for these unfortunate creatures. They were all here through no fault of their own. I stood to leave. I passed by many other dogs I did not interview, looking at each one, wishing I could take them all home with me and give them the love they deserved. I stood by the door taking one last glance back, when it opened, and one of the pound workers came in. His face was drawn and sad. He walked by without a word, and stopped at Pete’s kennel. I heard him take a deep breath, then he paused, and opened the kennel door.
The words were muffled, but I am sure I heard him say “I’m sorry old boy.”
He came out, with Petey in tow. The old dog’s head hung down in resignation, and they both disappeared behind the big steel door. - Author unknown…
