Because I’m a movie snob, I showed up about five years late to the party for Facing the Giants. For whatever reason — probably hearsay about the film’s acting and production quality — it just wasn’t a must-see. But, since I broke down and bought the DVD a couple months ago, it’s become one of my all-time favorites, taking a place alongside undisputed classics like Ben-Hur, Sergeant York or It’s a Wonderful Life.
My criteria for what makes a film a keeper is its ability to impact your life, to shape your thinking and your convictions about what you hold fast in your heart of hearts, and why. They don’t just make you laugh/make you cry, they make you believe — in one unforgettable moment …
Sergeant York coming home to find out that the piece of bottom land he had fruitlessly labored for before the war is now a gift from the people of Tennessee for his heroism as a soldier.
Judah Ben-Hur forsaking his vengeance toward the empire that had enslaved him and tormented his family, coming home to find his mother and sister healed from leprosy.
George Bailey running through the streets of Bedford Falls to get home to the wife and kids he almost devastated on Christmas Eve, finding not just a renewed lease on life, but his debts wiped away and a whole town ready to receive and rescue their friend.
Grant Taylor coming home after miraculously winning the state football championship, to hear his wife tell him he had made the “daddy team,” and they were pregnant, against all odds.
These films have a commonality that makes them special: a great struggle; a divine intervention; a blessed restoration; and a great celebration. But the inspiration we draw from them most likely comes from our ability to so quickly identify with the hopelessness and desperation at the beginning of their odyssey.
“A man gave me something to drink once when I was dying of thirst in the Roman galleys. I went on living. It would’ve been better if he had poured it into the dirt.”
“I wish I had never been born.”
“I’m a failing coach with a losing record. And I can’t give you the children you want.”
A couple weeks ago I was waiting to get on the interstate after running an errand after work. As I sat at the light, I glazed over the stream of vehicles that passed in front of me. But one caught my eye. The driver’s window was open, and I immediately recognized a face I hadn’t seen in some time. Pulling a quick “yewie,” I caught up with the car to confirm what must have been tired eyes. But it wasn’t. It was my friend, David. The last time I saw him and his family they were heading to Texas to answer a call to ministry. And then all hell broke loose.
For three years, David and his young family endured the fallout of an extramarital affair that started not long after his “dream job” had begun. In their valley they walked through the loss of dreams and desires, a broken ministry, family separation, financial wreckage, multiple relocations, several near-divorces and the emotional and relational damage that comes with the package.
We stood there catching up, still stunned by our chance meeting, and a joyful, renewed David told me about where they are now. His marriage, though having nearly flat-lined many times, was healed and stronger than ever from the furnace. A mother he hadn’t had a relationship with for 17 years is now a vital part of his life. The dream of being in ministry was resuscitated by the grace of God, who led David to an opportunity at another church, to rejoin a friend and mentor he had left behind three years earlier.
“If anyone had told me what we’d have to go through to get here, we would’ve never made it,” David said. His comment prompted a familiar image in my mind …
Facing the Giants coach Grant Taylor is on his knees, prodding his star lineman to strain forward down the football field in a drill called the Death Crawl — carrying the weight of another player on his back while he inches hand-and-foot toward the goal. Taylor has blind-folded his player because he doesn’t want him letting up when he thinks he’s close to his objective.“I want your very best!” Taylor insists repeatedly through his player’s pain and doubt. At last, the spent high-schooler collapses, having given more than he ever imagined, going farther than his sightedness would have taken him. To the endzone.
The blindfold can be a blessing or a test of faith.
In 1952, Florence Chapman attempted to swim 26 miles from Catalina Island to the California coast. Fifteen hours into her swim through shark-infested waters, a heavy fog set in. After another hour of swimming through fatigue and discouragement, she asked to be pulled out. Once in the boat, she discovered she had given up one mile from her destination. Two months later, she was back at it. Again, the ubiquitous California morning fog obscured the path. This time Chadwick kept a mental image of the shoreline in her mind — fixing her eyes on the unseen — following it until she saw the real thing within her reach.
God is writing a great story, an epic screenplay in the lives of His children. And though inspiring tales are forged in the struggle, the fog, the death crawl, we know there is a hope that never fails, a blessed destination, a longed-for homecoming.
If you’re reading this in the midst of a seemingly endless valley, these movies won’t disappoint for some much-needed encouragement (Ben-Hur is a long one, so plan accordingly). And, if you’re into reciting memorable lines, there are none better (or truer) than these:
“For if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with perseverance.” (Rom. 8:25)
“'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, '
“I will repay you for the years the locust have eaten.” (Joel 2:25)
“He heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3)
“Those who sow in tears shall reap with songs of joy.” (Psalm 126:5)
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