2 Mistakes Christians Can Learn from MGM's Blunder

One of the great movie comedy series of all time was the Our Gang shorts produced by Hal Roach Studios from the 1920s through the late 1930s.  It featured such rough-and-tumble child actors as Spanky McFarland, Alfalfa Switzer, Darla Hood, Buckwheat, and many others.  These kids were charming, clever, and full of mischief.  And of all the comedy series from that era, Our Gang consistently ranks at the very top.

This franchise was so popular that it eventually caught the eye of the movie mega-studio MGM, which took over the series in 1938 – and proceeded to destroy it.  They made two mistakes.

The more serious one was that the new scriptwriters completely misunderstood the original incarnation’s ethos.  In the Hal Roach shorts, the kids often demonstrated more wisdom and insights than the stuffy adults, and in more than one episode, the adults learned important life lessons from the children.  MGM changed all this, however, and included many plot lines that were thinly disguised morality lessons for the kids.  Essentially, these stories were designed to “civilize” the children and turn them into well-behaved “little adults.”

The second mistake was that MGM greatly upped the production value.  Now, instead of having the kids romp through shots showing poor editing, uneven sound, and the occasional lousy overdub, the shorts now resembled the highly polished movies of MGM’s heyday.  And the series lost something.  Part of the charm of the original films was their production “rawness.”  Somehow the technical flaws reinforced the kids’ innocence.

So what can Christians learn from MGM’s mismanagement of the franchise?

First, we must remember that, although we know that ultimately Jesus provides the answers for life’s big questions, we are all in a lifelong process of figuring out just what that looks like, and none of us has our act together completely.  And we should stop pretending that we do.  I’m not suggesting that we avoid providing clear guidance and biblically-based advice to others, but it must be done in a spirit of humility.  Too often, just like the pompous adults in the failed MGM Our Gang movies, we can wag our fingers in condescension at people who fail to meet our standards.

The second lesson is a direct outgrowth of the first.  In an attempt to present a good “testimony for Jesus,” we can slather over our faults to try to produce a picture-perfect, air-brushed Hollywood characterization of what a good Christian looks like.  Again, I’m not suggesting that we wallow in our shortcomings or condone sin, but just as the imperfections in the original Our Gang films enhanced our appreciation for them, so a candid admission that God still has a long way to go in our lives can be very attractive.  How many people have turned away from the church because they were given the impression that only the exemplary people are welcomed.  Didn’t Jesus himself say that it’s not the well who need a physician, but the sick?

So, our message should be three-fold: 

1.      Jesus accepts us just as we are 

2.      He loves us too much to leave us that way

3.      We’re in this together, and we’re willing to let our rawness show as we figure out the Christian life together

So let’s not go MGM on the people we rub shoulders with every day.  Instead, let’s present an incredibly positive but honest picture of what it means to follow Christ.

Is Your Emotional Filter in Backwards?

“My counselor told me my emotional filter is in backwards.”

I was sitting across the table in IHOP from one of the guys I’ve been meeting with monthly for about five years.   Chris is a great guy who was brought up in a highly dysfunctional family and who, in recent years, was blindsided by his now-ex-wife leaving him for another man and turning his children against him.

“What do you mean, your emotional filter is in backwards?” I asked.

“Well, my counselor said that I dismiss anything positive someone says about me and let even the slightest negative comment drill down into my heart and immobilize me.”  Given his family history, I can understand that.  I can do the same thing. 

Let me give just one example.  Several years ago, I was elected by my 1,500 healthcare executive peers in Georgia to represent them as Regent for Georgia to the 40,000-member American College of Healthcare Executives (ACHE), the premier personal membership society for healthcare leaders.  What a huge honor!  Part of what ACHE does is bestow the designation of Fellow on executives who excel in their profession and demonstrate their competence by reaching certain milestones, including passing a rigorous exam.  Besides being Regent, I have chaired and/or served on seven different ACHE committees, including the one that develops the exam that Fellows have to pass.  So I have some credibility when it comes to ACHE.

In order to help affiliates pass the exam, every year the local Georgia ACHE chapter hosts two-day exam preparation tutorials.  For several years, I have done the presentation on the overall healthcare industry.  As is common with educational programs, the organizers ask participants to rate the various sessions and speakers.

When the results came in for one of my presentations a few years ago, I was pleased to see that I received an overall rating of 4.3 on a 5-point scale.  Not bad, I thought.  But then I took a closer look and saw two things that bothered me.  First, I discovered that one of the other speakers received a 4.4 rating, beating me by a tenth of a point.  How could that be?  And second, when I looked at the individual members’ rating, I saw that one participant had only given me a 3. 

Now, mind you, 3 indicates an adequate job.  But the fact that one person considered me “adequate” instead of great really bugged me for a couple of days.  Never mind my overall outstanding rating and my ACHE credentials and track record.   All that was swallowed up by that 3 from one guy and validates that I sometimes have my emotional filter in backwards.

Chris’ comment reminded me that I need to refocus on the many blessings God has bestowed on me and learn from specific constructive criticism without obsessing on anything less than perfection.  Ultimately, continuing to allow my filter to operate in reverse betrays my statement that I am relying on Jesus for my acceptance.  It’s never appropriate to close the door to legitimate input, but neither Chris nor I need to worry about that.  In fact, we have the opposite problem.

Let me ask you, which way is your emotional filter positioned?

Responding Like a Brat

During my five years in the Cru music ministry, it was always a special treat to visit the home areas of someone in the ministry, and one time we happened to be playing for the Sunday morning service of the music ministry assistant director’s home church in Ohio.  And, it just happened that Fred and his family were in town that same weekend.  And, it also just happened to be his four-year-old daughter Ashley’s birthday that Sunday.

Admittedly, there might have been a slight “kiss-up” motive in doing this, but we decided to present Ashley with a birthday gift – a cute little kids’ china teapot with matching tea cups.  So right before the service, we told Fred we had a gift for Ashley.  Fred located her in the elementary kids’ play area where she was fully engaged in cooking a pretend meal – so engaged, in fact, that she didn’t want to stop, even after being asked repeatedly to do so.

“Ashley, can you come here?” Fred asked.

Nothing.

“Ashley, please stop playing and come see Daddy.”

Still nothing,

“Ashley, look at me.  Come here now.”

This time, she looked up and said, “I don’t want to.”

The scene escalated to the point of anger on Fred’s part, tears on Ashley’s, and embarrassment on ours to have to witness this scene.  She finally settled down to the point where we could present our gift to her, but the joy of the moment had clearly vanished for all of us.

Later that morning, out drummer Stuart connected the dots and wondered out loud how many times we react to God’s gifts the way Ashley did to ours.  Here we were, offering her a free gift of something we had picked out especially for her, something we thought she would particularly enjoy.  But she was so wrapped up in playing with borrowed toys that she wouldn’t stop long enough to receive a gift she would be able to keep forever if she liked.

In my last blogpost about praying expectantly to our loving God, I quoted Matthew 7:9-11.  That passage is equally relevant here:

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?  Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake?  If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!”       

In Ashley’s case, she wasn’t even asking for anything.  We were the ones initiating the gift-giving.  God gives me good gifts every single day:  life, health, food, clothing, relationships, the chance to help others, etc.  And then there are the times he blesses me with extra-special little reminders of his presence, things he’s orchestrated to bless me in a special way, tailored just for me. 

But I have to be willing to lay down my “borrowed toys” long enough to accept the unique gifts he’s selected just for me.

Two Ways Not to Pray, and One Way to Pray

“So let’s ask God to use this time in their lives in a special way.”  Every Sunday, someone from the stage leads us in prayer as the elementary age kids gleefully thunder out of the sanctuary for their classes.

Having brought two children through the teen-age years, watched many of our friends’ experiences, and read the dismal statistics surrounding Christian young people, I sometimes wondered which of these smiling faces would get caught up in drugs, teen pregnancy or total rejection of the faith in college. 

During one of my cynical moments, the Holy Spirit suddenly spoke to me.  Certainly, the statistics are accurate, and many young people do end up in unfortunate places.  But our kids are not statistically and fatalistically condemned to that future.  God has acted in miraculous ways over the millennia to do incredible and totally unexpected things. 

I remember learning in a church history class about a problem some coal mining companies encountered during the Welsh revival of 1904-1905.  So many men came to faith in Christ that work production nearly stopped because the mules no longer understood the men’s commands without the profanity.  Also, some of the coal mines posted signs asking the workers to stop returning the tools they had stolen because they had run out of places to store them.

If God could so change the hearts of crusty, hardened coal miners, could he not preserve the purity and faith of these particular nine-year-olds?  Of course he could, and I should lovingly ask him to do so.

I think my cynicism was driven in part by what I consider presumptuous prayer.  I’m all for claiming God’s promises, but I think we sometimes drift into demanding that he answer them in precisely the way we want him to.  It’s almost like we treat prayer as a magic spell where, if I say just the right words, sweat just the right amount, and throw enough Bible verses at God, he is compelled to do exactly what I think he should when I think he should do it.  I become the magician, forcing God’s hand to accomplish my version of what the future should look like.  Even Jesus himself prayed, “Nevertheless, not my will . . . .”

If we shouldn’t pray statistically or “magically,” how should we pray?  The best answer I know of is in Matthew 7:9-11 (The Message):

If your child asks for bread, do you trick him with sawdust?  If he asks for fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate?  As bad as you are, you wouldn’t think of such a thing. . . . So don’t you think the God who conceived you in love will be even better?

So, we should pray expectantly to our loving, heavenly father, leaving both our cynicism and our demands behind and trusting that he will graciously hear and answer our prayers to maximize his glory and our greatest good.