Miracles Welcome | Miracles in the Movies

When I think about miracles, I find it hard to see them in my life. Miracles in the Bible always seemed momentous: mountains moving, seas opening to allow people to safely pass while drowning their enemies when they try to pursue. Or even smaller miracles of healing and changing water to wine. So when someone references a miracle, I wonder, how many lives were saved? When I lost my job and God granted me a new job when we had just purchased a new home, was it miraculous? Perhaps.

In this context, I thought about what was going on in my life lately, and something came to mind.

In the last year, I have participated in two book studies where we talked about race. These books and discussions put race in the forefront of my mind and this view of the black experience caused me to reflect on the movie The Black Panther and I thought, what a great time for it to come out!

I have been a comic book fan from way back. I have always enjoyed them--the stories of Superman and Spiderman, Peter Parker and Clark Kent. But these heroes were white. I could easily relate to them and their experience. When The Black Panther came out, depicting black culture, the experience of a black hero and an almost all black cast, I was very excited.

Was it a miracle?

Well, no, not really. It was God’s children using their God-given gifts of intelligence and creativity to make something fun and spectacular. I took my nephew to the movie and we both were blown away. Characters ranging from moral to not-so-moral, revealed in fully fleshed-out three-dimensional stories. Led by the performance of a dashing, handsome, humble, and truly amazing actor, Chadwick Boseman.

Was this a miracle?

Not necessarily, although, in one interview Chadwick states that he had been praying for this part since he heard that the movie was happening. Was it a gift from God? Chadwick was quoted as saying, “When God has something for you, it doesn’t matter who stands against it.”

And then, earlier this year, I heard about Chadwick Boseman passing away. He was just 43 years old and died from cancer that had been discovered in 2016. He had filmed four movies playing an action superhero while fighting cancer. I can’t imagine how much pain and struggle he endured while working so hard on these films, and fighting stage III cancer. And he remained positive, humble, and inspiring – a reflection of the character he portrayed. Humble. Inspiring. Inclusive. Loving.

Was this a miracle?

For him to play such an inspiring part in such an inspiring movie at a time when we need heroes, even fictional ones, to look up to—and both the Black Panther and Chadwick Boseman are heroes--I would say that this was miraculous. Not the seas parting for Moses perhaps, but somewhat of a pillar of fire for people to follow. Not manna from Heaven, but something to feed us spiritually.

Art can be fun and entertaining and moving, but some artistic expressions come together to inspire something greater. I believe The Black Panther is such a film. That Chadwick Boseman was able to complete the filming of these movies and see the inspiration they have been for people across the world was awesome.

His passing is a tragedy in this year of tragedies. That he was able to give us his performance as the Black Panther and King T’Challa before he left us, was miraculous.

Rest In Power, Chadwick Boseman

Wakanda Forever

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About the Author

Mark lives in Oregon with his lovely wife, Darla and enjoys reading, writing, playing games and working to make the world a better place. He currently serves CitySalt church as a sound engineer and on the church council.

Seeing the Other | When We Were Young

“Tattoos and no-tattoos can be friends,” my 5-year-old daughter interjects into our small group’s conversation about tattoos on a Tuesday evening.

Yes, I assure her, we can be friends with people who look different from us.

We live in divided and divisive times. We can categorize our neighbors into endless groups. Red states and blue states. Christians and “non-believers.” Protestant and Catholic. Evangelical and mainline Protestant. Blue collar and white collar. Black Lives Matter and Blue Lives Matter.

I met my childhood best friend when she invited me to her sixth birthday party, as we stood together on the steps outside our elementary school. She was friendly and open in that way that only young children can be. I eagerly accepted the invitation and began a friendship that would last through high school and into the early years of college.

She was brown-skinned and I was white. Race wasn’t something we ever talked about, unless she brought it up in a joking way. “I don’t like white people,” she sometimes said, “except you and my mom.” She called herself a Nigerian princess.

I remember lots of sleepovers, Michael Jackson dance contests, endless rounds of Monopoly. I remember playing soccer in the Oregon rain. I remember going to see the Dave Matthews Band play in the Gorge, and the time the WOW Hall advertised our theater troupe on the same poster as a Slick Rick show. I remember writing rap songs for the band we started in third grade, and in college when our drunk friend got locked in a dorm room stairwell overnight. I remember never laughing so much as I did with her.

I don’t remember ever asking my best friend about race, about what it was like to be one of the only brown-skinned kids in our school. Was it hard for her? If it was, she never let me know. Our high school group was a microcosm of diversity for Eugene, with three of my closest friends being ethnic minorities with immigrant parents from Nigeria, Korea, and Mexico.  

Our friendship ended as suddenly and inexplicably as it began, with her one day choosing to stop returning my calls without any falling out or slow drifting away.

In college and beyond, my friendships seem to have become more and more homogenous. We are a 99 percent white, upwardly mobile, advanced degree holding, NPR-listening group of folks. We like to talk about social justice. We have backyard chickens and drink kombucha. We go to church, or used to before becoming disillusioned with organized religion. If we do have tattoos, they are discrete.

I tell myself that my friends are similar to me because I don’t have many opportunities to get to know people who are different. But is that entirely true?

Matthew 5:14-15 (NLT)
“You are the light of the world — like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house.” 

It’s certainly easier to be friends with people who share similar backgrounds and interests as ourselves. But Jesus calls us to be a light to the world, something I can’t do if I remain cloistered in my kombucha-drinking, NPR-listening corner of the church. For my part, I want to be more intentional about widening my circle of acquaintances to include more diversity of race, religion, socioeconomic status and sexual orientation. Within the Church as a whole, we also need to do a better job of promoting dialogue between Christians with different political views and scriptural interpretations.

I wish I could go back to the openness of childhood, when it was so easy to make friends with anyone regardless of what they looked like or who their parents were. Fourteen years after my friendship with my Nigerian princess best friend ended, it still hurts to write about her. I wish we could go back to being friends like we used to be, but time has changed us, and we can’t ever go back to that place we stood, two first graders on the steps outside our elementary school, fulfilling Martin Luther King’s dream without even knowing.

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About the Author

Ursula and her husband Spencer have two young children, and their family enjoys playing hide-and-seek and dancing in the living room. She works as a communications and events coordinator with the University of Oregon. You can read more from Ursula at motherbearblog.com.