Amber and I went to see The Passion of the Christ this afternoon. To be honest, my attitude while going into the movie was a fine balance between cynicism and wonder. I had heard so much varying discussion about the film that I was beginning to get frustrated that I couldn’t have my own opinion. When the manager of the theatre handed me my ticket stub, he asked if I had a box of tissues with me. You are going to be bawling your eyes out, he said. Hmmm. I just wasn’t so sure. And then while standing in line, I heard a comment that made me bite my lip very hard. Jesus, I’m so friggin’ nervous about this movie. It just has my stomach in knots. It took every bit of willpower I had to not turn around and share my thoughts with that irreverent college boy. We were standing in line to see a movie about the passion of Christ’s last hours on earth, and he had the audacity to use Christ’s name in such a caustic way.
So, as the movie began, I was struggling with two worlds of thought. I wanted to have an open mind and experience the movie, but I was also wondering if those around me were there to learn about the Christ or to just experience the latest fad. I really had to get past the fact that there were many children around me watching an R rated film and that I wasn’t the only one eating popcorn while watching Christ on a cross.
I’m not sure at what point that my heart turned, but there was certainly a moment when I sat my popcorn down and bit my lip as the tears began pouring. This was by no means the first time I had thought or imagined what His last hours must have been like. One of the most powerful sermons I have ever heard was on the crucifixion. I can still see Larry Winkler standing behind the pulpit as the tears poured down his face. I’ve spent many nights rereading The Darkness and the Dawn by Charles Swindoll. He paints a picture of the cross in such a way that I struggle with sleep each time I read it. Yet even though I have read the Scripture many times, actually seeing it enacted in such an intense way stirred something deep within.
I’ll be the first to tell you that I didn’t agree with every little thing in the movie, and I was very disappointed that Mel Gibson didn’t focus more on the resurrection, but even with those things said, I was touched in an unbelievable way by this film. I left the film wondering that if that was the best that Mel Gibson could do (and I wholeheartedly think he did a great job), what on earth must it have really been like? And then we drove home, turning at traffic lights, adjusting the a/c, changing the radio station, and life seemed to get normal, so quickly. But in the back of my mind, I feel as though there is a small part of me that has been changed.
Even though I simply cannot understand why, I am exceedingly grateful that Christ chose to die so that I would have life. Watching the portrayal of His anguish has stirred a burning desire to live as though I am constantly thinking of that beautiful, scandalous night that birthed such unimaginable hope three days later.