Paperman

Simply because this is one of the most mesmerizing, heartwarming, endearing animated shorts I have ever had the pleasure of seeing.  Great work is still being done at Disney Animation Studios.

Simeon: A Man of Anticipation

The Christmas Story invites us to more than just a traditional reading of Matthew or Luke's account each December.  It is an invitation of participation and imagination.  "The story of any one of us is in some measure the story of us all," Frederick Buechner writes.  Influenced by Jason Gray's album Christmas Stories, Russ Ramsey's book Behold the Lamb of God. and a sermon by John Kinlaw at my church, I began to put myself in the shoes of this faithful servant Simeon.  His part in the story is short but incredibly pivotal.  What did he experience and think leading up to this day when he himself beheld the Lamb of God?  Outside of the Scripture passage of Luke 2:25-35 used here, it is completely conjecture and imagination filling the gaps on my part.  But it centers on one characteristic of Simeon - anticipation.  So set your imagination loose and walk with me through the life of Simeon, a faithful servant of the Lord who anticipated His coming.

There was a man in Jerusalem named Simeon.  He was an older man, quite older than the average man was expected to live.  It seemed as though he would never die.  But his age was just the first of extraordinary things about this man.  To see him at a distance was to see a slow, methodical walk as if every step mattered.  To look into his face was to find an unexplainable glow, a fire burning beneath the wrinkled skin, a fire that found its outlet in his eyes.  His gaze was piercing, but warm and peaceful.  He certainly didn't talk like most others did, either.  He was fond of the old stories of Scripture and the God who was unfailing in His promises.  He delivered them eagerly and earnestly with the edge of an ache and a longing.  It was convicting to hear him speak with child like wonder and trust in the tales. 

Simeon rose one morning the same as he had done for what seemed an age - with anticipation.  He put on his robes and prepared a breakfast of fresh fish and bread.  He lowered his head to pray God's blessing on the meal.  This prayer was not a matter of habit - none of his prayers were. He was beginning yet another conversation with Yahweh.  Like a star-crossed lover, Simeon hung to these times, even for something as simple as his prayer before a meal.  As he opened his mouth to pray, however, he found a force holding his tongue.  He felt compelled to listen instead.  In the silence of that moment, an urge rushed upon him.  "Eat quickly, grab your staff, and head for the Temple.  It's time."  It was all Simeon could do to keep from choking on the fish.  Like a child that has just been given a surprise gift, he set out of his house with what felt like a skip in his step.  

The walk to the Temple was a lengthy one for anyone, but even more for Simeon at his age.  It always gave him time to meditate and consider.  Today's journey started resurrecting thoughts of his youth, for this was truly where this journey started.  He was a passionate young boy, full of vigor and imagination.  He quickly found that his passions burned out of control.  He was a reckless sinner.  His temper would get the better of him.  His impulses would have him act first and think later, if he thought at all.  On more than one occasion, he would break his parents' hearts with his choices.  To his credit, his grief over his failures was as passionate as his lust for his own way.  His passions didn't need to be calmed; they needed to be steered, guided like a ship tossed in the waves to its port.  His parents saw to it he had a mentor that would teach him and train him to follow the God of Israel.  He latched his heart to the stories and the characters whose lives wove an incredible tapestry.  His favorite was Samuel.  Simeon connected with the earnestness with which Samuel's mother prayed that he should be born.  He gravitated toward this concept that Samuel was given to the service of the Lord, a service he never rejected and pursued hotly.  He was the first of the kingdom prophets.  He was Simeon's hero.  He wanted to be like him: set apart to the Holy One of Israel, to know Him and make Him known to His people.  His childlike, impulsive passions turned to the only One who could ever fuel them.  He set his heart on the city of Jerusalem.  Where else might he better know God and make Him known than the holy city of Israel?  It was rich with the history of kings, prophets, and saints.  The temple of God, the center of the worship of Yahweh, was minutes away.  He would gain no greater knowledge of God than here.

Sadly, he found the heart of the people of this city failing.  The priests and the scribes turned their knowledge of the Scriptures into power.  The deeper things of God were not meant for lesser mortals.  They had become more concerned with their own standing in society than the citizens of Israel.  As such, the people of Israel flocked in and out of the Temple, following the written word of the law mostly by habit, not by heart.  They wished they could be good enough for God like the religious leaders but just weren't on the same level.  Though the exile had occurred hundreds of years before, the hearts of the people were still in an exiled state.  Having spent the last 400 years without any revelation or word from the Lord, the old stories had become legend to them.  The stories no longer moved this Roman oppressed nation, except to look with dreams of a king like David once more that could rescue them.  But Simeon saw to the greater need of their hearts.  They needed to be rescued from sin, rescued from the shackles made with their own hands.  And while he filled many a heart with a word of courage and blessing from the Lord, he knew he was not the shepherd that could care for this flock.  One greater was needed - one promised by Jehovah God.

Presently, Simeon turned the corner and the sight of the Temple in the distance met his eyes.  This stirred Simeon's heart and brought back a memory like a siren song to him.  A long time ago, he had brought the best lamb his money could buy.  He was heading to the Temple to make sacrifices like everyone else, but he was sacrificing more than a lamb that day.  He was sacrificing his desires, his heart, his life to the Lord.  He watched as the lamb was slain by the priest.  The smell of blood mixed with smoke added depth to what was moving in his heart.  It would be a messy thing to give himself to the Lord, and his flesh resisted.  "These people are a lost hope, and you are no Samuel.  Give it up already!"  But for whatever temptation there was to draw him away, truth was burning in him as brightly as the fire that licked at the dead lamb's corpse.  The truth that Father Abraham had trusted in the Lord, ready to offer his own son to Him as a sacrifice.  Moses led the people in an event that had been celebrated time out of memory - the sacrifice of a lamb to spare the life of a first born.  Elijah, another of Simeon's heroes, did not simply offer a sacrifice.  He prayed that God would ignite it with fire and change the hearts of His wayward people in the process.  Over and over again, the truth of the sacrifices broke upon Him in waves.  God wasn't interested in dead animals: He was passionate about the heart of the people He had called to Himself, that their messy lives would rise like blood and smoke intertwined as a sweet smelling fragrance to Him.  Simeon bowed and prayed, a meeting place of the profane and divine struggling for dominance: 

"Lord Jehovah, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, I am a wicked sinner.  You are a gracious rescuer, steadfast in love, quick to forgiveness.  I have chased the things of this world and caught nothing of value.  You hold the only beauty that could ever fill me with wonder.  I am Your servant; my life belongs to You.  Like the prophets of old, I am yours.  I want to know You, Your holiness, Your purity, Your love."  

What happened in that moment was so incredible, Simeon never told anyone about it, as no words would do it justice.  Like the comet of heaven God sent to Elijah's sacrifice, the fire of the Holy Spirit descended upon Simeon.  It felt like it was coursing through every vein, searching and scorching all other passions he once knew.  The temptations of his flesh that he was struggling with moments before blew up in smoke like the lamb smoldering before him.  Simeon perceived - the same Holy Spirit that had descended upon King David of old was now upon him.  There, in the blazes and ruin made by these holy flames, a new heart erupted.  Then a voice, still and small, echoed all around him: "Child of Israel, I have received your prayer and you to myself.  You shall do more than know me - you will hold me.  You will not taste death until you have beheld the consolation of Israel, my Chosen One, who has been foretold of old.  Prepare the way for my Kingdom."  The burning, the new heart, and especially the haunting voice led to an outburst of tears - tears of release and joy.  He would never be the same.  From that day forward, he studied the Scriptures with passion, walked with the brokenhearted of Israel, and prepared as many as would hear for the promised Messiah. 

Though that event had taken place decades ago, the flame of anticipation burned as vibrantly now as it did then.  The darkness of the world and the sins of his fellow Israelites did not dim the flame - they illuminated it.  The long years of waiting for Simeon were broken down into mornings like these.  The sun shattered the horizon with glorious dawn and the hope arose with it in his heart - could this be the day?  There could be no mistaking this call by the Holy Spirit, whose voice he had come to know better than any human: "Go to the Temple.  It is time.  He is here!"  Though Simeon moved at what most would consider a craw, he felt as though he were flying through the streets of Jerusalem. 

As he passed through the gates and into the Temple courtyard, he found the place in its usual hustle and bustle.  How would he know where to look?  Perhaps he would lay eyes on one who was surrounded by an adoring crowd.  "Ah, but no - God seldom works this way," he thought.  "What was it He had said to Samuel?  Oh yes, God is not concerned with the outward appearance, but with the heart."  Simeon prayed, "Lord Jehovah, reveal to me Your precious consolation."  As he lifted his eyes, they landed on a very young couple, still in their teenage years.  There, in the young wife's arms, was a baby.  Simeon's heart starting beating so fast, he felt it might burst through his chest.  He was looking at more than a child - this was the Christ, the promised One.  He began to shuffle his way through the crowd, afraid he might lose them in the moment.  Turns out there was little to fear - the couple was coming toward him as if God was drawing them together.  As they met, Simeon gave a gracious bow and said, "Peace to you, I am Simeon, a servant of the Lord.  Would you trust an old man with the pleasure of holding your son?"  The young couple looked at one another.  The husband nodded, and the wife held the young child out with a smile.   

Simeon cradled the baby in his arms.  This was so bizarre, so strange, and totally unlike anything he had expected!  God was rescuing Israel through this little baby?  But the thought went from speculation to rapture - God had fulfilled His promise to his servant and to all of Israel.  The woman's seed God had declared thousands of years ago in the Garden of Eden, the One who would defeat the evil one and rescue sinners - Simeon was embracing this very child!  Tears filled his eyes freely and lifting them to heaven, he cried out: 

"Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel."  

He handed the child back to His mother.  He gathered the couple close and bowed his head.  He prayed an encouragement and blessing upon them - the warmest of any he had ever bestowed. 

Suddenly, the Spirit moved his mind and heart to Isaiah the prophet.  The seer had foretold what God's Chosen One would experience.  He would be pierced for the transgressions of His people.  He would be crushed, afflicted, bruised for their healing.  He would assume the position of the sacrificial lamb.  The very people He came to save would reveal their hardened hearts toward Him.  The prophet's words now illuminated the child before Simeon.  Sin would cost something to destroy.  The cost would be the life of the Chosen One cradled in His mother's arms.  Amidst the painful visions filling Simeon's head, the Spirit spoke: "Tell her."  With as much sobering tenderness as he could muster and a lump in his throat, he fixed his eyes on the young mother, a hand on her shoulder.  

"Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed." 

Simeon left the couple marveling at this encounter.  He made his way down the streets of the old city as the day drew to a close.  The sun was setting over the western sky, scattering rays over his path.  It was a sweet reminder that his time was also drawing to a close.  He stopped at his door and basked in the moment.  God had seen it fit to call this man of passions to His deep passion for man.  Though his forefathers had followed this same God's calling through the centuries, Simeon was allowed to actually fix his physical eyes on the promise of God personified, something they never did.  Simeon settled on his bed that night.  Having spent each night before in eager anticipation, he now laid his head down in rest - the sweetest, peace-filled rest he had ever known.  Messiah had come, bringing a kingdom with Him.  And Simeon, the anticipating servant of the Lord, had held Him in his arms.

Light and Truth Tangled

Saturdays during summer camp are a beautiful time to rest and refuel for the next week.  But I have found over the past several weeks that I am so wound up from go, go, going, I don't know how to relax well.  I actually prayed to God, "Please help me relax in a way that is honoring to You, that isn't wasteful."  As I tend to relax best getting lost in the story of a book, song, or film, I pulled out Tangled, a movie I had not seen since it hit the theaters.  What I got within minutes stunned me.

First of all, Tangled is a beautiful picture.  The animation is exquisite.  You get lost in just the subtle adjustments in Rapunzel's big, bright eyes, which rival her long hair for the spotlight.  The  computer generated camera moves are romantic and sweeping.  The world around her is very detailed and believable.

Secondly, the storytelling is fantastic.  Yes, it's a Disney princess film/musical, so the ridiculous is to be expected.  A pet chameleon and nearly human acting horse, a pub with a gang full of ruffians who really want to play piano, bake, and mime (High School Musical knock-off), and of course, a guy the princess has got to fall for.  I'm not saying this is all bad - it's just silly entertainment elements.  But the wonder instilled from the opening narration to an incredible healing tear is a worthwhile journey.

But in the midst of a beautifully animated, silly-at-times Disney princess movie, I found a warm glow.  The story reflects the Greatest Story.  While it isn't an allegory by any stretch of the imagination, there are elements that shimmer with greater truth.  Rapunzel is a lost child.  She is a captive, kidnapped by an evil, selfish woman.  She is trapped in a closed tower, never even so much as setting foot on the grass.  Worst of all, she doesn't know it, not directly anyway.  She only knows the lies she has been told by her captor - the tower is the safe place.  But the prison that shadows her life is incapable of keeping the light of truth out.  Every year on her birthday, the king and queen light a floating lantern to commemorate her birth, releasing it in quiet hope that their daughter will one day return.  The entire kingdom does the same.  The lights fill up the night sky, dazzling Rapunzel from her tower window.  "I don't know why, but I feel as though they are meant for me," she surmises.  It becomes her dream that one day, she will see these lights up close and in person.  The day arrives.  We get a glimpse into the heartbreak the king and queen still experience over their lost child, the yearning they have to be reunited.  

In a small boat, Rapunzel wonders if this experience will be everything she ever dreamed it would be.  In a shimmering display, we are caught up with her in the dance of a thousand flames, each burning as a memory for her.  Back in her room in the tower, she unfolds a simple cloth with the insignia of the kingdom, a flaming sun.  Suddenly, she sees that sun appearing over and over again in the murals she has painted.  A memory long lost returns of looking at the same insignia as a baby and then her true parents, a loving king and queen.  She is floored by the truth - she is the lost princess.  She is a daughter of royalty.  It is a truth always with her but never realized.  But her captor still stands, and she is overcome by the wicked woman whose lies have finally been exposed.  She is powerless to save herself, and when the only one who knows where to find her arrives, he receives a death stab from the old woman.  She offers to stay a captive in exchange for saving his life with her magical hair.  But he would rather die than allow her to remain a slave.  He cuts her hair, the old woman dies in defeat, and Rapunzel is left with a dying savior.  The tear she sheds fills his wound and the room with sparkling sunlight.  He awakes to life and the two share their first kiss.  Having set her free, he brings her to the home she should have always had, to the parents who ached in their love for her.  They embrace their long lost daughter.  

I am Rapunzel - a long lost child held captive under lies.  I knew nothing but my tower, blinded by sin and darkness.  But my tower could not keep out the lights sent out by my Father, the King of kings.  They were meant for me - they were calling me home to the love I was always supposed to have.  It is a love that burns and dances like a million lanterns, shining like the morning sun, lights for the lost.  To experience that love  up close and in person is more than I could ever imagine or dream.  It penetrated everything I did, the truth always with me though I never realized it.  When I could not break free from my chains, my Savior came.  He would rather lay down His life than allow me to remain a slave for life.  He arose again to life to bring me to my Father, who embraced me - His long lost child.

Again, the connections are not direct and perfect.  Rapunzel had nothing to do with being a captive.  I am a captive to sin by nature and by choice.  Rapunzel's lover is a thief whereas Christ is perfect and holy.  Christ laid down His life and had the power to take it up again.  Still, the eternal truth shimmers like a "window in the world," as Andrew Peterson puts it.  I watched how this story found its way into my heart, revealing again that the truth of the Greatest Story is so grand, it penetrates stories that don't even recognize it.  

I found Psalm 43:3 to be a beautiful prayer earlier this summer - "Send out your light and your truth."  I've prayed it many times since.  I just wanted to relax tonight.  God allowed me to get tangled up in His light and truth as well.

None Other Lamb, None Other Name

I have been overwhelmed with thoughts of late and equally overwhelmed by the busy December, presenting little time to put these thoughts to the keyboard.  The overwhelming has been spent in all things good, I should add.  So here on Christmas Day, I will at least add one and hopefully spend sometime this week making full sense of the beauty I have received from God's gracious hand.  He is the perfect giver.

This morning at my sister and brother-in-law's church, I admit that I do not recall all of the sermon spoken, though there were definitely great points.  But the service was closed with a hymn by Christina Rossetti, one I had never heard before.  The words leaped off the page and forced me into a reflection of this year and these past few months in general.  It speaks in so few words the struggles I have faced and the passions they have stirred in me - to know my God with greater and greater affection while holding a lesser and lesser attraction toward all other suitors.

None other Lamb, none other Name,

None other hope in heav'n or earth or sea,

None other hiding-place from guilt and shame,

None beside Thee. 

My faith burns low, my hope burns low;

Only my heart's desire cries out in me

By the deep thunder of its want and woe,

Cries out to Thee. 

Lord, Thou art Life, though I be dead;

Love's fire Thou art, however cold I be;

Nor heaven have I, nor place to lay my head,

Nor home but Thee.

Thank you, Father, for another set of beautiful words penned long ago that travel through the corridors of time to impact my heart. 

More thoughts to come...