I’ve been a pastor now for almost fifteen years.  In that time, a few things have really caught me off guard.  One of those is the amount of depression that God’s people deal with.  Depression is, of course, something that most people deal with to varying degrees.  By God’s grace I don’t think I have ever suffered severe depression, though I do know what depression is.

To that end, I was delighted to discover D. Martyn Lloyd Jones’s book, Spiritual Depression. The book is a classic in the field and consists of a series of sermons that Lloyd Jones (originally a medical doctor) preached from his famous pulpit at Westminster Chapel in London.  I’m becoming increasingly convinced that Lloyd Jones’ book is one of the more profound books I’ve ever read in terms of diagnosing the causes and treatment of spiritual depression.

One of the more intriguing insights he offers is the fact that Christians are especially susceptible to spiritual depression after mountain-top spiritual experiences.  Lloyd Jones refers to this as “a reaction.”  Here’s how he puts it:

“Another frequent cause of spiritual depression is what we may describe as a reaction-a reaction after a great blessing, a reaction after some unusual and exceptional experience. I hope to call attention sometime to the case of Elijah under the juniper tree.  There is no doubt in my mind that his main trouble was that he was suffering from a reaction, a reaction after what had happened on Mount Carmel…Abraham had the same experience  (Genesis 15). For that reason when people come to me and  describe some remarkable experience which they have had, while I rejoice with them and thank God, I always watch them carefully afterwards and am always on the look out and apprehensive on their behalf lest a reaction set in. That need not happen, but unless we are aware of the danger it may do so. If we but realized that when God is pleased to give us some unusual blessing we must be unusually watchful afterwards, we would avoid this reaction that so often tends to set in.”

I think that’s right on, and I’ve experienced the same reality.

It’s an interesting idea, and it begs the question:  why are God’s people so susceptible to spiritual depression after great spiritual experiences?

Is it because of heightened attacks from the devil at such times?  Is it because we simply cannot maintain such spiritual intensity this side of Heaven?  Is it because spiritual mountain tops give us glimpses of a reality that we will not posses completely until we stand in the presence of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords?

As I say, he makes an interesting and, I think, valid point.

The Rag Man
By Walter Wangerin

Early one Friday morning, I was walking through the streets of the town and I came across a giant man, 6 feet, 4 inches tall, pulling a cart filled with rags. Although they were but scraps of clothes, they were clean and bright, as was the peddler, calling out the wares… “Rags!” “Come get your Rags!” Clean, new Rags!” “I’ll take your old ones and trade them for new!”

I was very curious to see such a sight – not that I had never witnessed people trying to make a buck on the hard streets, but this fellow seemed so hardy and strong. Certainly, he could find work doing something other than pushing rags? I decided to follow him at a distance to see what he was up to.

At his first stop, he came across a sad woman, crying on the stoop of her apartment building. She held a stained scrap of cloth to her face as the man approached. He stepped over garbage and broken toys and offered the woman a clean handkerchief. As he did so, her tears dried up and her entire face brightened. But as he walked away, the Ragman began to sob uncontrollably. He wiped his face with the old dirty cloth that he had taken from the sad woman on the porch. I shook my head in wonder.

The next person that the Ragman came upon was a little girl. Her head was wrapped in a bandage that was dark with blood. As the Ragman approached, she lifted her eyes and asked for a lovely hat to adorn her head. How could he resist? He reached into his bag and pulled out an yellow bonnet that would fit her just perfectly. Before he laid it on her head, he unwound the bandage from the girl’s head and placed it around his own. As he did so, a thin stream of blood emerged from his own head and trickled down his cheek. He didn’t mind at all as he placed the cheery hat upon the girl’s head and went on his way. Happiness crossed her face for the first time in many days, and the Ragman staggered into the street.

By this time, the sun had moved to a high point in the sky and the Ragman looked up and grew worried. He started to move more quickly and with a greater purpose. Eventually, he came to a man leaning against a telephone pole. “Can I offer you clean clothes for work?” the Ragman offered. The other man sneered and laughed. How can I work, when I have only one arm, and he lifted his jacket away, showing the empty right sleeve. The Ragman simply said, lets exchange coats. What happened next, I still cannot believe. The Ragman removed his jacket and with it came his right arm. He handed it to the man at the telephone pole, who gladly put it on and walked away whole and happy. The Ragman kept going, this time, a bit more slowly.

The Ragman hurried down the street. Before long, he came up a drunk, huddled upon the edges of an overpass, covered in a blanket, the stench of which I simply will not relate here. It did not phase the Ragman, however. He lifted off that awful rag from the drunk and gave him brand new coverings. Immediately, the man stood up and walked away with a strength and purpose not seen in years. The Ragman stumbled and fell with the burden of the old cloths. Still, he moved along, even more urgently that afternoon.

He moved through the streets, crying, bleeding, pulling his cart with one arm, and stumbling along through a haze of drunkenness. He was in such a hurry, I could hardly keep up with him! Eventually, he reached a garbage pit. The Ragman climbed to the top of the landfill and laid out a large blanket. He fluffed up his jacket and laid his exhausted head on the top. The Ragman laid down, closed his eyes, covered himself with the drunk man’s army blanket, and died.

Oh, how shocking and terrible! I was not expecting this at all. I slunk away to my bedroom and cried myself to sleep. I had come to love the Ragman, and yet, he had seemingly died alone.

I was so distraught, I slept all the way through Friday night and Saturday too. All of a sudden, I was awakened on Sunday morning by a bright light! This amazingly hard, pure, shocking light came streaming into my room that day, I could hardly open my eyes. When I did, I had to blink several times. Yet, still I did not believe what I saw. There, standing before me was the Ragman! The only sign of his suffering the days before was a small scar on his forehead. Other than that, he was entirely intact!

I could not believe it, and was filled with shame. I lowered my eyes and my head and hesitantly approached the Ragman. Stripping myself of all my clothes, I stood before him, naked. “Please,” I implored him, “Dress me.” The Ragman turned and chose one of the many shining cloths next to him. The entire room was filled with His glory! He dressed me, then, my Lord, that day. With new rags, I am a wonder beside Him – the Ragman – the Christ!

I joined the Evangelical Theological Society earlier this year and have just returned from my first ETS annual meeting.  It was held in Atlanta from Wednesday until today (Friday).  The theme was “Justification” and the main attraction was a panel discussion with N.T. Wright, Tom Schreiner (Southern Seminary), and Frank Thielman (Beeson Divinity School) on justification and the “New Perspective on Paul.”

I originally joined ETS and planned on attending the meeting when, earlier in the year, it was announced that John Piper and N.T. Wright would be debating justification.  Shortly thereafter, Piper took an eight-month sabbatical and Schreiner was chosen as his successor.  I have been very much looking forward to this discussion, which took place this morning.  I was further encouraged by the involvement of Frank Thielman, a New Testament scholar who has done important work in Pauline studies (and who I was privileged to sit under in a DMin. seminar at Beeson about ten years ago).

Before I get to the panel discussion, let me share a few thoughts about some of the lectures I attended leading up to this morning.  The ETS annual meeting is essentially a smorgasbord of papers presented on a wide variety of subjects.  Attendees may choose to hear whatever papers they’d like (the difficulty is in the amazing number of choices you have).  Then, each day, all attendees are encouraged to attend the plenary sessions (this year’s sessions being led by Schreiner, Thielman, and Wright, respectively, and culminating in the panel discussion).

I had a tremendous time and was encouraged and challenged by the presentations I heard.  Danny Akin’s presentation on regenerate church membership was very well done (and the vigorous discussion-time challenge from a slightly irritated Presbyterian brother was actually mildly amusing).  Gregory Wills’ paper on the history of open communion among American Baptists was quite informative and interesting.  Though I ultimately disagree with Wills’ closed communion position (and engaged him a bit during the discussion time on the subject), I thought the paper was very well done and worth hearing.  Finally, Frank Thielman’s  plenary session from yesterday afternoon was, in my opinion, a masterpiece of careful, balanced, irenic scholarship.  Particularly illuminating was his first-century examples of the word “righteousness” on Roman coinage and how the usage of the word thereon can help nuance our understanding of Paul’s use of the word in, for instance, Romans 1:17.

N.T. Wright’s plenary address this morning, and the panel discussion following it, was utterly enthralling.  The debate on what Paul means by “the righteousness of God” and what the New Testament means by “justification” is, at times, a challenge to follow but is, in my opinion, worth the effort to do so.

N.T. Wright clearly wanted to seize the opportunity to push back against what he sees as some of the more absurd criticisms of him and his work.  Time and again he returned to the theme of, “I’ve been accused of…but, in reality…”  Amazingly, he was not off-putting in doing so.  In truth, one of Wright’s strengths is how very witty and engaging he is.  To put it simply, Wright is a likeable guy that you enjoy listening to (even his most strident critics admit as much).  Frank Thielman, in my opinion, was, today, a model of balanced irenicism in the panel discussion.  I was struck by his obviously sincere appreciation of many aspects of Wright’s programme as well as by his sincere questioning of other aspects of it.  (Thielman, I believe, studied under Wright at Duke Divinity for a while, and their appreciation of one another, even in their disagreements, was obvious and refreshing.)

I’m a bit back-and-forth on Schreiner’s efforts in the panel discussion.  Perhaps it’s simply a matter of body language and personality, but Schreiner seemed more…well…tense, I guess, or perhaps even defensive.  He did seem to kind of snipe here and there.  And yet, I do not want to be unfair: Schreiner is an impressive Pauline scholar in his own right and he raised a number of genuine concerns as well as, I think, reasonable challenges to Wright’s work.  Particularly, Schreiner did not seem to want to concede the point in Wright’s treatment of 2 Corinthians 5:21, and, for now, I remain convinced that he (and Thielman) are correct in pushing against Wright on this point.

In all, though, it was a very helpful, very fair, and very collegial discussion among three great minds on an important issue in theology.  N.T. Wright is a towering figure in Evangelicalism today, regardless of what one thinks of his work and proposals.  I remain unconvinced of some aspects of Wright’s proposals, and am convinced by others.  I will say that I do personally grow weary of the unfortunate (though, I trust, limited) almost-demonization of Wright by some of his more strident reformed critics.  Say what you will of Wright:  his work is important, he is a brother in Christ, and I believe that, in many ways, he can help us read the New Testament more clearly (I say this, again, with some reservations and qualifications).

So I’d like to commend ETS for a fine conference.  I am very glad I attended, and I intend to do so again.

A 45-year-old Christian Pakistani woman named Asia Bibi has been sentenced to death by hanging for allegedly insulting the prophet Muhammed.  She says she didn’t do it.  She says she’s been set up by the Muslim women she works with…the women who wouldn’t drink water delivered by Asia Bibi on their worksite because she’s a Christian and the water she brought is therefore unclean…the women who formed a mob to attack her necessitating intervention by the police who took Asia Bibi into custody for her own protection…the police who then turned around and filed a blasphemy charge against her.

So Asia Bibi may hang.

Oh, not to worry:  nobody has every actually been executed under Pakistani blasphemy laws.  Well, technically nobody has.  Ten people accused of breaking these laws have been murdered during the trial process, but never actually executed by the courts.

I’m sitting in my house right now watching a big-screen television.  The heating and air folks came by today to finish some duct work so our house can heat and cool more quickly and efficiently.

I got a new suit today.  A new shirt and tie, too.  I didn’t even buy it!  I used a gift card given to me by some very dear friends.  “I really like the pattern on that shirt,” I told the tailor.

Asia Bibi doesn’t know when they may execute her.

A pastor friend and I had pizza for lunch, and a great conversation.  We laughed a lot.  It was really a blast.

Asia Bibi is viewed as “unclean” by her Pakistani neighbors.

My wife and I took a walk tonight.  We were talking about how the weather is almost perfect.

Asia Bibi may just hang for believing in Jesus.

I’ll go to bed tonight in peace and groan a bit when the alarm clock goes off.

Asia Bibi says she hasn’t told her children yet that their momma might hang for believing in Jesus.

So, I don’t know.

Say a prayer for Asia Bibi:  a little Pakistani woman who’s decided that following Jesus is worth it, even if it costs her her life.

Lord, give her courage.  Lord, help her not to crack under the pressure.  Lord, if Asia Bibi is to die, let her die with grace.

And, Lord, make me like Asia Bibi, I pray.

Amen.

We caught last night’s episode of “The Office” and I was immediately intrigued to see that it was held in a church.  Jim and Pam were having their baby christened and the entire Dunder Mifflin office attended.  As I say, I was intrigued, and also slightly nervous.  After all, in most cases where the church makes an appearance in primetime, it’s bound to be the subject of derision or an example of imcompetence or abuse.

Imagine my surprise, then, when the episode went on to depict the church in a generally positive light.  More than that, it provided an amazing example of the attractive appeal of the church being the church.

During the announcements before the christening, the priest announces that the church youth group is leaving that day for a three month mission trip in Mexico.  At the reception after the christening, Michael Scott observes the unrestrained joy and excitement of the youth group on the other side of the fellowship hall.  He is deeply moved by their enthusiasm, especially as it contrasts by what he sees as the petty cynicism and bad attitudes of his own employees.  When a young lady stands up to proclaim that the group cannot wait to get to Mexico and work with the poor people there, Michael becomes genuinely caught up in the moment.

He becomes so caught up that when the youth group boards the bus to go on mission, Michael boards the bus with them!  Andy, one of his employees, follows as well.

One of the youth compliments Michael on the bus telling him that she cannot believe he would leave everything to join their mission.

It was a beautiful picture of the inherent evangelistic appeal of koinonia.  In a church culture inundated with evangelistic programs and gimmicks, it would behoove the church to remember that the greatest evangelistic tool we have is the ministry of contrast.  When the world looks at the church, they should be struck by our joy, our counter-cultural mission, our love for one another, and our love for the least of these, especially as these traits contrast with the lost culture around the church.

To conclude, shortly after the bus takes off, Michael and Andy panic and begin to think, “What have we done?!”   Finally, they demand that the bus stop and they jump off to return to their normal lives.  Tellingly, this is not applauded in the episode.  Rather, their abandonment of the mission is seen as just another manifestation of their own neurotic impulsiveness and and shallowness.

There’s a lesson here too, of course.  Jesus spoke about putting your hand to the plough and looking back.  Some left all to follow Jesus.  Others began the journey and turned back when the reality of what following Jesus would mean for their lives set in.

Michael and Andy got off the bus.  One of the kids jumped off with them.  The rest went on to their mission.

Who knew that “The Office” could be convicting?

I’ve always been fascinated (and have often been edified) by the theological acumen of non-theologians.  Take, for instance, the late Walter Miller.  As Mrs. Richardson and I continue to work through his science fiction masterpiece, A Canticle for Leibowitz, I’ve been struck to varying degrees by his theological insights.  I was particularly intrigued by the reflections of Dom Paulo (the abbot of the Leibowitzian monastery in the novel) on original sin:

And yet, Dom Paulo’s own Faith told him that the burden was there, had been there since Adam’s time – and the burden imposed by a fiend crying in mockery, “Man!” at man.  “Man!” – calling each to account for the deeds of all since the beginning; a burden impressed upon every generation before the opening of the womb, the burden of the guilt of original sin.  Let the fool dispute it.  The same fool with great delight accepted the other inheritance – the inheritance of ancestral glory, virtue, triumph, and dignity which rendered him “courageous and noble by reason of birthright,” without protesting that he personally had done nothing to earn that inheritance beyond being born of the race of Man.  The protest was reserved for the inherited burden which rendered him “guilty and outcast by reason of birthright,” and against that verdict he strained to close his ears.  The burden, indeed, was hard.  His own Faith told him, too, that the burden had been lifted from him by the One whose image hung from a cross above the altars, although the burden’s imprint still was there.  The imprint was an easier yoke, compared to the full weight of the original curse.

It’s a fascinating take on the inconsistent anthropology of modern man, is it not?  It’s almost ironic.  The same man who will claim and proclaim the inherited grandeur of being man – the same man, that is, who will wax eloquent on the great and grand virtues of being human – will revel in the inherited wonder of man (a wonder that Christian theology would call the imago Dei, marred though it is) while simultaneously protesting the very possibility of inheriting a transmitted curse from the original man.  It’s the anthropological equivalent of having your cake and eating it too.

Consider, for instance, the beginning of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”:

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.

Here is how modern man views himself, and Miller is right to point it out.  The value of this insight lies in the fact that the unfettered humanistic naivete of modernity rests on an assumption of an inherited glory, but the assumption is marred by modernity’s demand that the inheritance only include those attributes that exalt and are worthy of praise.  But once the assumption of inheritance is granted, does it not provide a foundation for deeper discussions with modern people about these implicit demands?  I think so.

Which is simply to say this:  if man can inherit glory in being man, then he can inherit shame in being the same.  Once this is granted, then we are close to being able to discuss the gospel.

So “Thank you!” Walter Miller.  Who knew that such fascinating nuggets of truth could be found in post-apocalyptic science fiction?

School’s back in session and I’ve decided to read portions of Brother Lawrence’s The Practice of the Presence of God to my freshman Bible class for a brief devotional thought at the beginning of each day.  This classic little book is ideally arranged for devotional reading and presents simple and sound concepts on the Christian life.  So on Friday I read to the class the following portion of the first “conversation” of the book.  I’ve read the book a couple of times, but I haven’t read it in a while, and I had forgotten that the book begins with a teenage Lawrence coming to an initial awareness of the glory of God through observing a tree in winter:

“The first time I saw Brother Lawrence was on the 3rd of August, 1666. He told me that God had done him a singular favor in his conversion at the age of eighteen. During that winter, upon seeing a tree stripped of its leaves and considering that, within a little time, the leaves would be renewed and, after that, the flowers and fruit appear; Brother Lawrence received a high view of the providence and power of God which has never since been effaced from his soul. This view had perfectly set him free from the world and kindled in him such a love for God, that he could not tell whether it had increased in the forty years that he had lived since.”

It’s an amazing thought, isn’t it:  an eighteen-year-old kid stunned into the awe of God by the simple cycle of nature.  Of course, this is a thoroughly biblical idea.

“For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse.” (Romans 1:19-20)

It also provided an interesting angle to approach the glory of God for a class of freshmen, many of whom are thoroughly immersed in the vestiges of the old Bible belt and are therefore accustomed to being approached with “Have you accepted Jesus?” but virtually never with, “Have you considered how the cycles of nature themselves speak of the death and resurrection of Jesus and the glory of God?”  Or, “What might a tree tell us about Jesus, the One who created the Heavens and the Earth?”

Indeed, we are surrounded everywhere by reminders of the glory and grace of God.  So thank you, Brother Lawrence, for reminding me of these reminders.

On August 18, 2008, I preached on Genesis 1:1.  I concluded the series yesterday, on June 27, 2010.  After almost two years of journeying through this amazing book, I can say that the experience was, for this preacher, a truly humbling and soul-stirring exercise.  I thought I might take a few moments here and offer a few concluding thoughts in no particular order:

• The statement, “Nowhere is the power of the gospel more evident than in the fact that it survives its own preaching,” seems truer to me today than it ever has before!

• The relevance, power, and usefulness of the Word of God absolutely humbles me.  When all is said and done, our best efforts appear as withering grass before the glory and power of the Word itself.

• The idea that modern people will not stomach sustained, systematic journeys through long sections of scripture is as fallacious as it is naive.

• Is it possible that after generations of gimmicky preaching, the people of God are yearning again simply to hear the story proclaimed?

• While one must not try to force Christology into every single jot and tittle, it is an undeniable fact that the unified voice of scripture (the ipsissima vox) is saturated with the lamb of God, points with a cohesive voice towards His coming and work, and can rightly be said to end at the feet of the cross.

• I am so glad that the early church chose to censure Marcion as the heretic that he was, else we might have missed the great blessing of the Hebrew scriptures.

• Preaching is a glorious but trying task.  It leaves the preacher sitting alone wondering if he did the Word justice…knowing that he didn’t, but knowing also that God is at work above (and even through?) the failings of the preacher.  And yet, despite the immense burden of these concerns, when a church member comes to you after the conclusion of two years of preaching through Genesis and informs you that he was able to use the story of Joseph to rebuff a friend who was encouraging him to act harshly towards another who had wronged him, the preacher is left with an amazing feeling of stupefying gratitude that God has allowed him to be involved in a task such as this.

• Preaching before the First Baptist Church of Dawson, GA, is a seminal joy!  Thank you, First Baptist, for your attention, your encouragement, and your receptive hearts.

“These people relate to the church probably just as positively as they do to sports…only less actively.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 1928

Dear Christian Parents,

This letter is not intended to (1) create guilt, (2) return to “the Law”, or (3) attack anybody.  Rather, it’s just my attempt to get at and explore a phenomenon which I and pretty much every single pastor I ask about these things are curious about.

Let me preface this letter with the following statements that I really do believe are true.  Athletics are good, build character, and help children grow.  If our kids commit to a team, they should be taught to stand by their commitments.  I played sports in school (albeit, poorly!), and am glad I did.  My daughter plays, and I’m glad she does.

With that being said, let me ask some question that have arisen from lots of conversations, lots of watching and listening closely to people, and lots of (frankly) grief over what I think is a damaging trend among Christian parents and their children concerning athletics and the body of Christ.  My point here is not that you must be at church every single time the doors open or you are a “bad Christian.”  Far from it.  My point is not that your child should or must always choose a church event over an athletic event.  Far from it.  In fact, my point is simply that there is now an observable, verifiable shift in priorities among Christian parents that is overall damaging to our kids, to the body of Christ, to our corporate and individual witnesses, and to our and our children’s spiritual development.

With that, some questions to (honestly) ask yourself.

1. What percentage of your child’s ballgames do you attend?  What percentage of church services do you attend with your child?  Which is higher?  Why?
2. If your child said, “I just don’t feel like playing in the game tonight,” what would you say to him?  If your child said, “I just don’t feel like attending church this morning,” what would you say?
3. For what reasons would you allow your child to miss practice?  For what reasons would you allow your child to miss church?  When you compare those reasons, how are they alike or different?
4. What percentage of practices does your child attend?  What percentage of church services does your child attend?
5. Do you view your child’s team as “a team”?  Do your view your church as “a team”?
6. How excited are you about seeing your child excel in athletics?  How excited are you about seeing your child excel in Christlikeness?
7. If the church has scheduled an event and your child’s team has scheduled practice, which, on average, will your child go to?
8. Do you “expect” your child to attend practice faithfully?  Do you “expect” your child to attend church faithfully?
9. Do you “expect” your child to contribute to the team?  Do you “expect” your child to contribute to the body of Christ?
10. Which is a more exciting thought to you:  your child receiving an MVP award for his team or your child leading a friend to faith in Christ?
11. How excited do you get about the big game?  How excited do you get about corporate worship?
12. If your child routinely asked to stay home from practice, would you speak with him/her about “commitment”?  If your child routinely asked to stay home from church, would you speak with him/her about “commitment”?
13. What is commitment?
14. How would you define “idolatry”?
15. What do you figure is the overall spiritual and psychological impact of communicating to your child that sports are crucial and the church is optional?
16. If your child attended the same percentage of practices as he/she attends worship services, would the coach let him/her play in the game?
17. If your child attended the same percentage of practices as he/she attends worship services, would the coach let your child stay on the team?

As I say, just something I’m curious about arising from something I (and others) have been observing.

The seraphic Mrs. Richardson and I settled down the other night to watch the dvd of “The Road,” the film adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s novel.  To put it mildly, we both were absolutely blown away by it.  Please understand, if you haven’t read the book, that  you may find the movie very depressing.  But if you get the broad contours of what McCarthy is doing here, I suspect you’ll find the movie absolutely stunning.  Frankly, the movie is stunning in its own right, whether you’ve read the novel or not.

Viggo Mortensen and the boy absolutely nail the tenor, tone, and pathos of the characters.  The boy is mesmerizing.  The scene where he cries after his “Papa’s” encounter with the man who wants to take the boy is one of more emotionally riveting scenes you’ll ever see.  Throughout, he is the very picture of innocence surrounded by terror.

Mortensen, as always (or, mostly always), is genius.  He has a kind of understated rawness that’s funneled into (1) his utter determination to see the boy survive and (2) his unhinged rage at anybody who threatens them.  The occasional narrations are a nice touch, and the flashbacks to his wife are not overdone (as I feared they would be).  As an aside, Charlize Theron plays the wife very, very well!  I wasn’t sure about that in terms of casting, but she really did a great job in her depiction of the wife.

It’s a cliche, I know, but it must be said that the scenery and the surroundings are themselves a character in the movie (and the novel).  Filmed mainly in Pennsylvania, the landscape evokes a sense of nihilistic futility and barrenness that you really have to see to believe.  One shot in particular – the shot of the mansion with the cellar – actually captures Faulkneresque Southern gothic like nothing else I’ve ever seen.  Furthermore, some of the horizon shots are creepy beyond description.  Also, the sounds in the movie – creaking and falling trees, rain hitting the ground, a kind of environmntal groaning – are handled masterfully.

The movie is a devastatingly beautiful and haunting rendition of the book.  It resonated deeply with my own visualization of the story while reading the novel.  What is more, the spiritual dynamics have not been removed, as so often happens in films, and that’s a good thing.  (The scene in the church – which wasn’t in the book – was beautiful in its imagery.)

I read an interview with the director from Christianity Today.  He says that McCormac told him he didn’t want the spiritual element removed or softened.  Clearly the director listened, and for that he is to be commended.  The movie is stronger for it.

Check this movie out.  Truly, truly great!