Page 1299 – Christianity Today (2024)

Nearly two months after attempting to calm a controversy by suspending funds to both pro-life and pro-choice groups, a major Christian financial services organization has declared a neutral stance on social matters that "have the potential to distract" from its focus on Christian stewardship and generosity.

The first three? Abortion. Sexual orientation. Guns.

These are among the issues that groups can no longer support or oppose if they want charitable aid from Thrivent Financial for Lutherans, according to the 2.5-million-member organization's new neutrality policy (full text below).

"These changes are designed to better reflect [our] identity as a membership organization of Christians united in a common purpose to be wise with money and live generously," stated Thrivent in announcing the immediate change of policy. It later noted, "This policy will exclude a small number of organizations and issues that distract, or have the potential to distract, from the common purpose of Thrivent and its membership."

Thrivent recently expanded its membership from only Lutherans to all Christians. In December, after one of its 1,300 local chapters approved a Planned Parenthood affiliate for charitable donations, Thrivent suspended donations to pro-life and pro-choice groups so it could rethink letting members recommend where to direct Thrivent funds.

"We serve a diverse membership of Christians, and we respect the views of all of our members," said communications director Brett Weinberg. "The focus of this outreach may change from time to time to reflect the priorities of our dynamic organization and membership."

The news didn't sit well with pro-life Lutherans.

"Sadly, this leaves many Christian pro-life agencies providing these pivotal services in a position of unexpected financial shortfall," the Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod (LCMS) stated in a press release. More than 50 pro-life organizations have received Thrivent's assistance in the past, according to the LCMS.

The Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod was also disappointed. "We are deeply distressed that an organization that describes itself as 'faith-based' has taken a position of neutrality on issues in which there can be no neutral position," the synod stated in a press release.

And the Evangelical Lutheran Synod decried Thrivent's categorization of abortion and hom*osexuality as "social issues," instead of moral and doctrinal issues "at odds with the Word of God."

The policy change will affect less than one half of one percent of the funding in the Thrivent Choice and Care Abounds in Communities programs, Weinberg said. The rest of the programs Thrivent funds—86 percent of which are Christian churches and schools—will be unaffected, he said.

While critics have circulated a statistic that Thrivent gave about $878,000 to pro-life groups in 2011, Weinberg said only about $200,000 went to groups that would now be ineligible for further funding.

A Change.org petition to reinstate Thrivent's funds to pro-life groups had only garnered about 1,500 signatures as of presstime. Meanwhile, the LCMS proposed a workaround. "We understand that LCMS members may earmark their Thrivent Choice Dollars® for their local parish," it stated, "and we encourage LCMS parishes receiving these funds to use them to fund pro-life organizations."

Members of Thrivent, a well-regarded Fortune 500 company, have directed more than $49 million in outreach funding and support through its Thrivent Choice and Care Abounds program in 2013, Weinberg said.

CT noted Thrivent's recent decision to drop its denominational boundaries and open its membership to all Christians, as well as the decision to temporarily suspend funds to all pro-life and pro-choice groups.

Thrivent's neutrality policy:

Thrivent Financial is a membership organization of Christians and works with many different members who hold a variety of – and at times divergent – views and beliefs. It respects the differences of its members and does not independently or on behalf of its members, advisors or employees provide outreach funding or support to organizations and issues that distract, or have the potential to distract, from its common purpose, which is to guide its members and society to be wise with money and live generously.

Under this policy, certain organizations are not eligible to receive outreach support or funding. This includes, but is not limited to, organizations with a primary purpose of providing services for or advocating positions either supporting or opposing certain social, politically partisan, or health and human services causes and issues, such as abortion, sexual orientation, or guns. Decisions regarding the application of this policy and the eligibility of specific organizations to receive outreach funding or support are made at the sole discretion of Thrivent's management team and are subject to change.

(Photo courtesy of Fibonacci Blue/Flickr)

Less than a year after announcing his diagnosis with myeloma, an incurable form of cancer, Carman Licciardello now says he's cancer-free.

"They took tests (and there will be more) P.E.T., MRI, Bone biopsies ect [sic] and could find NO trace of Cancer," the former CCM star wrote on his Facebook page. "That's amazing. We're talking about drilling into your bone to search for a cancer cell and coming up empty."

The positive post comes less than a year after Carman, who garnered 10 platinum records before a 12-year hiatus from the Christian music scene, announced his diagnosis—and just in time for him to begin a major April tour prompted by fan response.

"I've had so many harsh things happen to me over the last 12 years, it was almost a situation that made sense," he wrote in his diagnosis announcement. Every Christian music label in the last 12 years had rejected him, Carman said, and none would even distribute his CDs for free, reported Religion News Service in noting how cancer resurrected Carman's career.

But after garnering more than 41,000 likes on his Facebook post announcing his diagnosis, Carman rallied, asking fans for $200,000 to create a new album and music video. They responded by pledging more than $530,000. Carman made the album and planned to appear on 100 stages after ending his chemotherapy.

In late January, Carman caught an infection during chemotherapy, a situation which can be fatal.

"I don't mean to be fatalistic but if for some reason I don't make it out of here, I want you all to know what great friends you've been to me and how much I've loved every minute of being on the stage ministering," he wrote. "I can't even lift my head up, and the wheelchair me everywhere. Oh well, at least I got the record finished."

But the fever broke, and Carman credited God.

"I guess God put me in a deep sleep like Adam and pulled out a surprise," he wrote. "Personally ….. I would have rather woke up next to Eve than a sweaty t-shirt, but the fever was more important at the time (ugh)."

In the same post, Carman predicted his cancer would be gone in three weeks.

"That was the last most difficult time I had to come through in this 8 months of treatment," he wrote. "I've been through 5 months of the most challenging stuff ( oh lets just call it hell, it's been 5 months of hell) but in 3 weeks from now I'll be back in the gym lifting weights and running the treadmill – because the cancer will be gone."

A week and a half later, Carman posted that he was cancer free.

CT has noted other Christian figures who have announced cancer diagnoses, including popular author Margaret Feinberg and Sojourners CEO Jim Wallis. Philosopher Dallas Willard revealed his diagnosis with stage 4 cancer in a tweet in May; he died just days later. Christian singer-songwriter Darlene Zschech recently revealed she has started chemo treatments for breast cancer as well.

Valentine's Day is lame. The holiday designed to celebrate love somehow makes most of us feel dissatisfied with our relationships or defensive about our relationship status — whether you're single, married, or dating.

One of us is single. One of us is in a relationship. On Valentine's Day, we both face arbitrary choices about our plans, choosing from a menu of clichéd, commercialized options that say nothing about our relative happiness or the health of our relationships … or even our interest in Valentine's Day itself.

So, this year, we are asking ourselves: Is there a way to redeem Feb. 14?

Do We Have to Be One of 'Those Couples'?

Ruth Moon

You may think that the terror of Valentine's Day flees when you are in a relationship, but no. The pressure's on for the right amount, the right kind of celebration. If you do like chocolate and roses, you're one of those people who buys into impossibly cheesy, disconnected-from-reality fairytale romance. If you stay home with pizza and beer, you're one of those people, trying to be ironic and hip, without a box of candy or card in sight. For the record, I'm the latter.

My significant other feels the tension too. He says:

We really are in a bind. Yes, it's a schmaltzy holiday, originally associated with St. Valentine, as the legend goes, now thoroughly co-opted by capitalism. Yes, it's better to just have a nice talk about how awfully exploited we all are, by the hype, and how we should just go about our relational business.

But pragmatically, we can't just ignore the day entirely. Even the most jaded and snarky woman will want something special on the day of. Just "nothing too cheesy," or "nothing too romantic," she'll say.

That's basically a paradox that would have made British journalist G.K. Chesterton proud. But Chesterton, a joyfully married Christian man, also had a realistic view of his own kind: "Women are the only realists; their whole object in life is to pit their realism against the extravagant, excessive, and occasionally drunken idealism of men."

Our idealism is born out of a healthy desire to honor the relationship we're in, including where it's been and where it can go yet, by God's grace. It expresses itself in terribly awkward ways, like boxes of waxy chocolates, botched dinner reservations or overly bounteous bouquets of red roses. But I suspect that what they (the women) really want is an attempt, however lame, to honor them and show them affection.

Cupids and hearts and red roses and chocolate and champagne sales aside, there's nothing fundamentally wrong with social encouragement to celebrate important relationships. If we're going to paint a bulls-eye on V-day for commercialism, we also have to target Mother's Day, Father's Day, and the entire wedding industry.

Rowan Williams recently commented on our culture's odd obsession with days of celebration, over and above the long-term commitments and day-in and day-out sacrifices that mark real love. He claimed that the "marketization of marriage" poses the greatest threat to the long-term success of the relationships. Like marriage, Valentine's Day and other relationship celebrations can be taken to rabid extremes.

However, the instinct to celebrate important relationships in community is crucial. That is where the real problem lies with Valentine's Day. It is, at heart, not a communal celebration of critical relationships. It is an inward-focused holiday that focuses myopically on one bond. Instead of celebrating the power of that bond to enrich the lives of dozens it touches, Valentine's Day measures the strength of the bond in teddy bears, hearts, and chocolate, none of which passes beyond the two people in the relationship.

A relationship, done well, should be a glimpse of Christ's love for the Church. That love is outward-looking and hospitable above all. We're not called to ignore our relational ties; indeed, if we take Christ and the Church as an example, we are to spend significant, dedicated time investing in those ties. A relationship is an exercise in aiding each other's weaknesses, that two may be stronger than one.

But that strength means nothing if it is not expressed and celebrated in community. A love that enriches two people only is more an exhibition of human selfishness than a mirror of the life-giving, sacrificial love we are called to practice.

Relationships should make us more eager and able to invest in and love those around us. Valentine's Day takes a celebration of what should be life-giving and communal and celebrates it in the most insular way possible — drinks for two, dinner for two, roses and candles and champagne for two, with no room for love of others.

Meanwhile, All The Single Ladies…

Alicia Cohn

If you want to know how Valentine's Day can make single women feel, watch 30 Rock. The unattached Liz Lemon goes to extremes, even sedation via oral surgery, to avoid it. Better to be unconscious than fend off what can seem like a nationwide conspiracy to make you second-guess your relationship status, she reasons.

Valentine's Day is the day that invites women everywhere (and it is, mainly, women) to ask: Would flowers, candy, a romantic evening make me feel better? What about a boyfriend? What about a better boyfriend?

That line of thinking makes Valentine's Day a particularly selfish holiday. The most selfish holiday, even. The typical responses are unhelpful: We all know a Smug Single, obnoxiously over-compensating for singleness by talking about how free she is to avoid a crowded restaurant and binge watch House of Cards season 2 alone instead. She will have friction with Miss Misery, who desires that her other single friends commiserate over the occasion, usually over drinks or chocolate. (Not that I know anything about either type.)

Much like Liz Lemon, as I've gotten older and remained single, I've learned that it's helpful to have a proactive Valentine's Day strategy. My approach is a little less dramatic, and — in deference to my mother's plea that I "don't be cynical" — more focused on the presumably good intentions of celebrating love.

After all, we already have dedicated occasions to celebrate a romantic relationship, don't we? It's called an anniversary. Ideally, Valentine's Day should be more like Mother's or Father's Day, two equally manufactured holidays but ones that can serve as a reminder to thank loved ones for their day-to-day contributions to our lives. Unfortunately, that's not what Valentine's Day has come to represent.

So what does "celebrating love" look like in reality? Well, my strategy involves deliberately seeking out the company of people that I love and that love me. Because we all need it: Yes, love, that stuff that often seems so sappy in a Hallmark card but actually forms the glue of our relationships, communities, and even our faith.

So my game plan is a good offense to defend myself against the temptations of selfishness and the tendency to look for pre-determined symbols of how much I mean to others.

Because we all have love, even if not in the form we (or jewelry commercials) conjure up in our minds. Often it's love we take for granted. There is no single person on earth who is unloved, by God if no one else. I know sometimes when I feel least loved, that's a good time to show love to someone else. So Valentine's Day might also be a good opportunity to look around at the actions of people you don't consider "loved ones" to find the description from 1 Corinthians 13 in unexpected places. Or it might be an opportunity to recognize the loving relationships around you. This year, I'm blessed to celebrate with one of the most loving and inclusive couples I know.

You can ask me Feb. 15 if my strategy worked better than dental work, but — sappy message alert! — I'm willing to bet on love.

Like the nose of a camel under the tent, archaeological research has raised new questions about the Bible's version of ancient history.

Two researchers at Tel Aviv University (TAU) studied the bones of camels found in an area of ancient copper mines in the Aravah Valley, south of the Dead Sea. Using radiocarbon dating and other techniques, they determined that camels were first used in the mining operations near the end of the 10th century BC.

They state that this is the first evidence of domesticated camels in ancient Israel.

This would be almost 1,000 years later than the time of the patriarchs, when camels first appear in the Bible. The most memorable account is the story of Abraham's servant, Eliezer, in Genesis 24, who is sent by Abraham to find a wife for his son Isaac. He finds Rebecca, who not only draws water from a well to quench Eliezer's thirst, but also waters his 10 camels.

Their study was quickly used to claim that the Bible was written or edited long after the events it describes. Headlines included:

The Mystery of the Bible's Phantom Camels
Camels Had No Business in Genesis
Will camel discovery break the Bible's back?
Study of camel bones suggests Bible may be wrong
Camel archaeology contradicts the Bible

But evangelical scholars say the claims are overblown.

The use of camels for copper mining is an important discovery. "But to extrapolate from that and say they never had domesticated camels anywhere else in Israel in the 1,000 years before that is an overreach," said Todd Bolen, professor of Biblical Studies at The Master's College in Santa Clarita, California. "The conclusions are overstated."

While it has been difficult for archaeologists and historians to pin down the exact time and location when camels were domesticated, there is evidence to suggest that the Genesis accounts are not a biblical anachronism.

Two recent academic papers written by evangelical scholars—Konrad Martin Heide, a lecturer at Philipps University of Marburg, Germany; and Titus Kennedy, an adjunct professor at Biola University—both refer to earlier depictions of men riding or leading camels, some that date to the early second millenium BC.

Among other evidence, Kennedy notes that a camel is mentioned in a list of domesticated animals from Ugarit, dating to the Old Babylonian period (1950-1600 BC).

He concludes, "For those who adhere to a 12th century BC or later theory of domestic camel use in the ancient Near East, a great deal of archaeological and textual evidence must be either ignored or explained away."

In an interview with Christianity Today, Kennedy said that he noticed archaeologists who work in Israel and Jordan seem to date camel domestication later than those who work in Egypt and Mesopotamia.

"[Israel] doesn't have much writing from before the Iron Age, 1000 BC," he said. "So there aren't as many sources to look at. Whereas in Egypt, you have writing all the way back to 3000 BC and in Mesopotamia the same thing." Based on Egyptian and Mesopotamian accounts, Kennedy believes domestication probably occurred as early as the third millennium BC.

He also believes the TAU researchers not only ignored evidence from outside Israel, they also assumed too much about their own research. "All they really tell us is that at that particular place where they were working they found some camel bones that they interpreted as in a domesticated context between the ninth and 11th centuries BC," Kennedy said. "It doesn't tell us that camels couldn't have been used in other nearby areas earlier than that."

Archaeologists usually remember that "absence of evidence is not evidence of absence." The absence of evidence for Hittites once fueled some 19th-century debates over the Bible—until the vast Hittite empire was discovered in Anatolia. Questions about the Book of Daniel once focused on the absence of the prominently featured Belshazzar from Babylonian king lists—until it was discovered that Belshazzar was actually the son of Nabonidus, and co-regent.

The many media reports which unquestionably accepted the TAU findings is also testimony to the fact that mainstream archaeologists and Bible scholars believe the Bible was written or assembled in the first millennium BC. They are highly skeptical of any historical information that predates that period.

Bolen also observed that archaeologists at TAU support a low chronology for the United Monarchy of Israel, which minimizes the importance of David and Solomon, and typically weights archaeological evidence more strongly than the biblical account.

"They're thinking of this in terms of strengthening their position on the low chronology," he said.

Ironically, one of the most-recent critiques of the low chronology came from another archaeologist working in the same Aravah copper mine area. He determined that the bulk of the industrial-scale mining probably occurred during the 10th century BC, the time of David and Solomon, and not later, as had been thought.

Gordon Govier is the editor of ARTIFAX magazine, and executive producer of The Book & The Spade radio program.

Nabeel Qureshi (@NAQureshi) is a former devout Muslim who was convinced of the truth of the gospel through historical reasoning and a spiritual search for God. His focus is on the foundations of the Christian faith and the early history and teachings of Islam. He is the author of Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus: A Devout Muslim Encounters Christianity. Learn more about Nabeel at his site.

Today we talk with Nabeel about superficial Christianity, dreams and visions, and authentic friendship.

1) You grew up in a loving American-Muslim home. How did your childhood compare with your Christian friends?

Honestly, almost all of my Christian friends seemed to be Christian in name only. They went to church and said they were Christian, but that was about it. Most of them were never able to answer my questions about Christianity, whereas I have been taught the details about my faith and how to defend it. I felt that I was truly Muslim in my identity, whereas most of my Christian friends did not really embody their faith.

2) One friendship, and the conversations about religion that happened in that friendship, changed your life. Tell us how you became friends with David.

I used to engage regularly in conversations with Christians because each time I did so, I was confirmed in my Islamic faith. I enjoyed engaging them, both to invite them to what I thought was the truth, and to reveal Christianity as the obvious falsehood I was taught it was. When I met my friend David, everything changed. He was able to defend his faith, and as someone who was strong in his beliefs, I felt a bond with him and we became friends.

3) What finally drove you to a point of decision between Islam and Christianity? What was holding you back—and what finally drove you forward?

The first thing that had to happen was that someone had to show me the truth about Christianity. Only when I saw the truth would I be able to assess whether I would follow it or not. David didn't just tell me why he believed in the gospel, he showed me how we could be confident it is true and therefore everyone should believe it. The historical evidence he provided for Jesus' death and resurrection, as well as Jesus' claim to be God, made all the difference. When I contrasted the evidence for Christianity against the evidence for Islam I knew that intellectually there was no comparison. So I asked God to reveal himself to me in truth, through dreams and visions. All those things, combined with actually reading the Bible, are what drove me forward to the point of accepting Christ.

4) Why do you think dreams and visions are a powerful part of both Muslim and Christian faith experiences?

I think the reason why dreams are an important component of people leaving Islam and accepting Christ is that most Muslims believe that God reveals himself and his will to them in dreams. In fact, it seems to be the only way that they believe God will reveal his will to them. So they have faith that God will direct them, so God uses their faith for his purposes. I think those Christians that receive dreams have faith as well, and though God is not obligated to reveal his will in dreams to Christians who already have the Holy Spirit within them, he may choose to do so and often does.

5) You say that authentic friendship is the best form of evangelism. What advice would you give to someone hoping to reach a Muslim friend for Christ?

I think the Lord gave us the perfect instruction for evangelism in Matt 22:37-39, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind … and love your neighbor as yourself." When you love the Muslims around you by treating them like family and helping those who need help, they will come to know you more and perhaps even wonder what makes you so loving. When they see you loving the Lord your God with all that you are, they will have their answer. Do not be afraid to love Jesus openly and to engage in conversation, especially after your friends know you love them.

Daniel Darling is vice-president of communications for the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission. He is the author of several books, including his latest, Activist Faith.

By the end of Winter's Tale, I was thinking about Alissa Wilkinson's review of About Time. The stories aren't very similar (except for the time traveling thing). But the trailers for both flicks sold the story as a rom-com when they were much more than that.

So much so that I thought I really wasn't going to enjoy Winter's Tale. The poster seemed best suited for the cover of a paperback novel. But though I didn't love the movie either, it reminded me in some ways of Stardust (based on the Neil Gaiman book) and The Golden Compass (without the controversially dark allegorical content), both shimmering magic-adventure films that I enjoyed watching once or twice.

Written and directed by Hollywood standard Akiva Goldsman (A Beautiful Mind, I Am Legend) and ostensibly based on the Mark Helprin novel, the story follows Peter Lake (Colin Farrell), a young rogue in early 20th century New York who falls in love with a dying heiress (Jessica Brown Findlay). That's about all I can say without giving away anything for those who haven't also read the novel.

But following this first 45 minutes of period piece romancing, it gets that whole Golden Compass/Stardust vibe. Animals or small children can be "spirit guides." Each person has "a miracle inside them." When you die, your soul floats up to the heavens and becomes a star. And Findlay, shining in a role perfectly suited for the Downton Abbey damsel, delivers a series of celestial, sparkly lines about light, love, and the miracles in us all.

Instructions in order to enjoy this fairy tale: treat it like that—a fairy tale. The story is light, even with a demon soul-crusher (Russell Crowe) trying to kill the good guys, obliterate miracles, and basically destroy all the things. It's not a romance after the first 45 minutes is over, and by the end, you're shown that the "true love" in the film was not supposed to be romance first and foremost (shades of Frozen, anyone?). Love conquers all in a snow-globe-ish New York City, even if it takes 100 years to do it. When it ends, you might even "aww."

The only problem is, the story seems to think of itself more highly than it ought. It's got plenty of magic, snow, and swashbuckling, but it sticks when it gets to dialogue. When Farrell romances Findlay, it's not bad (and it doesn't take long). But when he's talking to his horse (with arguably equal fervor) or throwing snarky I'm-not-scared comments at the demon hunter, just check out for a bit and you'll be happier.

And there's a couple more scenes to ignore as well. The film has one relatively modest sex scene, the end of which is the movie's most awkward moment. Banter and one-liners that try to be funny are not—humor flails and fails in this film, making its charm a little more difficult to achieve.

But then there's the scenes with the devil.

If you wondered what the heck Russell Crowe was doing in here as a hellion with a vendetta and a voice like Captain Barbosa, you'll cringe and possibly choke when you see Will Smith show up. To be blunt: it doesn't work.

I like hopeful films, especially when it's not the I-hope-I-get-swept-off-my-feet type of thing. Winter's Tale is sweet and simple when it's all said and done, and it walked a fairly neat line between two "true" kinds of love. The big problem it may have is finding an audience. With the lack of fun, the randomly freaky scenes, and a cast that doesn't quite make it mesh, it's really not a movie for kids—or dates.

Caveat Spectator

Winter's Tale is rated PG-13 for "violence and some sexuality." Crowe's face bursts into what looks like snarling lava every once in awhile. He kills a waiter at a pub and uses the blood to draw a picture (a picture that ends up being important to the plot, but it's still gross). Two characters have sex. A character dies. There's violence with swords, fists and guns. As the devil, Will Smith's jaw opens wider than it should while he's yelling at his minion, while the shadow behind him becomes a billowing cloud of smoke with glowing eyes.

Taylor Lindsay is a writer in New York City. She was Christianity Today Movies' fall intern.

What's the nature of human consciousness? What if, instead of determining our actions for ourselves, we merely feel like we decide what to do? If the U.S. has the power to micromanage the affairs of other nations, should it? Do the rights of the individual continue even if he's like four-fifths robotic?

All these questions and more fail to be answered—but are at least entertainingly presented—in Jose Padilha's remake of RoboCop. A remake of the 1987 Paul Verhoeven film, this time around the movie stars Joel Kinnaman as Alex Murphy, Mr. Robocop himself.

Murphy and his partner Jack, played by Michael K. Williams, are maybe the only cops in the Detroit precinct who aren't on a criminal's payroll—a problem just as present in the film's 2028 setting as in 2014. But Murphy's determination to bring down a local crime boss leads him to be the target of an explosive attack, one that blows off a bunch of his limbs and burns his skin off and stuff (the movie alleges "fourth degree burns," which a quick Google search confirms are a real thing).

At the same time, OmniCorp CEO Raymond Sellars (played by Michael Keaton, who dresses about twenty years too young for the role) is facing roadblocks in Congress that'll prevent him from getting robots on the street to replace cops—and for Sellars, robots on the street means billions in his pockets. So Sellars and his OmniCorp buddies concoct a plan to merge the human and robot elements, thus circumventing the congressional ban on purely robotic police officers. Murphy is picked for the program, and the rest is history—well, 1989's 2028 history.

The good thing about RoboCop is that it totally exceeded my expectations while I was watching it. It's actually a pretty rigorously engaging movie-watching experience. It's interesting and exciting without relying on too many plot clichés (though storytelling clichés abound). For instance, at no point does the film feel like a re-hash of 2008's Iron Man, despite how many notes Iron Man took from the 1989 RoboCop.

So the movie isn't predictable—a striking contrast with 2013's deeply mediocre remake of Total Recall, which took the original movie and recast it in the mold of a boring old Modern Action Thriller. It spends considerable time developing the relationship between Murphy and his family, as well as chronicling his own psychological distress; for the first third of the movie, I was incredulously hopeful that this could be good, personal, introspective sci-fi in the same way District 9 was.

But right around the middle third of the movie, disaster strikes, not with a bang but a whimper. RoboCop is a deeply confused movie, in which are embedded the seeds of maybe three of four much better movies. On the one hand, the opening fifteen minutes of the film show off a dystopian-like world in which modern U.S. drone protocol has been extended to combat robots on the ground with fingerprint scanning technology, all in the interest of "keeping the peace"—the kind of moving, searing critique Verhoeven embedded into RoboCop and Starship Troopers.

But then Samuel L. Jackson keeps showing up as a Hannityesque talk news anchor, arguing passionately in favor of OmniCorp's policies, a filmmaking choice totally in line with Verhoeven. Since the ground-level story of Alex and his family is very sweet—almost schmaltzy—this results in dissonance between the movie's micro-level (the earnest sincerity of Alex Murphy) and the macro-level (the cynicism of Jackson's character).

On the grand scale, Jackson's talk-show interjections only work as satire if they're more than just over-the-top depictions of what already exists. Sure, the character is just an overblown version of contemporary megapartisan television hosts. But what is the movie trying to say via these digressions? Jackson is both the first and final character we see on screen. He never interacts with Murphy or almost any of the main cast. So what's he doing here?

I only ask because the intense and maybe excessive use of irony in Jackson's segments—"Spoken like a true patriot," Jackson says at one point, and it's assumed that the audience would scoff at this. He closes the film with "America has always been, and will always continue to be, the greatest nation on earth," again, as if the audience would know to laugh at these segments. Are they just there to instill a deep sense of cynicism and irreverence in the audience?

It's so weird, because Murphy's segments are saccharine. But I was willing to accept it—all the movie's questionable neuroscience and tin-eared dialogue—"Something's causing problems in the system, but it's not just chemistry or brain signals." "What, like, a soul?"—for the same reason I was when I reviewed Thor 2 a few months ago. I really like movies that just are what they are, even if sometimes what they are is stupid. It's really not the worst thing in the world for a movie to be stupid.

However, RoboCop doesn't want its audience to think critically about how dumb-but-nicely-sweet the sentimental parts of the movie are, but then turns right back around with its possibly aimless critiques of—of what, America as a whole? Capitalism? The modern media?

In trying to have its cliché cake and eat it too, trying to be sentimental and cynical all at once, RoboCop does neither thing well.

It's not really as malignant as I make it out to be. These problems just add to the incoherence of a pretty confused movie. RoboCop overextends its reach, trying to touch on (deep breath): American foreign policy, suicide bombers, Tehran, capitalism, police corruption, individual psychological distress, family problems, all-out action sequences, epiphenomenalism, and androdigital interaction. (Note that Martin Scorsese has, in his entire career, successfully approached only five out of the above ten issues.)

So what we're left with is a movie that's actually pretty fun to watch, if you're into that kind of thing, but which falls apart within minutes of you leaving the theater. Why did they structure the plot that way? What was the point of those TV sequences? What is this movie about?

All movies fall apart under enough critical scrutiny, even genius ones. But when your film crumbles after just being grazed by critical thinking, then you've got a problem.

Some movies are genera-transcendingly good—for instance, The Lego Movie is incredible even if you don't particularly love kid's movies, and The Kings of Summer (reviewed alongside Man of Steel) is excellent even if you don't normally like coming-of-age stories (I know I don't).

And then some movies are just good at what they are—like the aforementioned Thor 2, which, as I said in my review: if you're cool with a movie that begins with an extended dissertation on "Night Elves," then you'll love it, and if you're not, then you'll think it's very dumb.

Well, there's no getting around the fact that, no matter what kind of movie you like, RoboCop is pretty dumb. It's also kind of exciting, and gripping, and makes for a pretty good movie-watching experience—especially on the big screen, especially if you want to like it. But by no means is this movie for everyone. In fact, it might not even be for the kinds of people who are trying to like it.

Caveat Spectator

RoboCop is rated PG-13 for violence and language, and true to form, there is both violence and language, though neither very intense nor extreme. A lone f-word peppers the script, but it's used in a comedic (rather than insulting or demeaning) context—as well as some bleeped swear words on Jackson's show, accompanying about a dozen un-bleeped s-words and maybe two-dozen little-league profanities. Murphy and his wife start to get intimate before they're interrupted—Mrs. Murphy is seen from behind in only her pants and a bra. It's pretty tame.

We see some extended shots of Alex Murphy's burnt body, but it's less disturbing than what was featured in Star Wars Episode III. In one kind of gross scene, Alex's robotic parts are removed to impress upon him the gravity of his situation; his esophagus is exposed, all that's left of him being a lone hand and his exposed upper thoracic region—we see his lungs pumping and hear his heartbeat. It's icky.

Jackson Cuidon is a writer in New York City. You can follow him on his semi-annually updated Twitter account: @jxscott.

Enjoy this piece from PARSE regular A.J. Swoboda. It's provocative. – Paul

In 1978, Alexander Solzhenitsyn, a prophetic revolutionary who'd experienced firsthand the evils of the Russian gulags and boldly confronted the communism of his motherland, delivered the commencement address at Harvard University. It was titled: "A World Split Apart."

Solzhenitsyn was new to America and from that fresh perspective he railed against Americans who wrongly believed they were entitled to false "freedoms." He suggested that Americans falsely believed they had the freedom to look into everyone else's life. He writes:

…we witness shameless intrusions on the privacy of well-known people under the slogan: "everyone is entitled to know everything." But this is a false slogan, characteristic of a false era: people also have the right not to know, and it is a much more valuable one. The right not to have our divine souls stuffed with gossip, nonsense, and vain talk. A person who leads a meaningful life does not need the excessive burdening flow of information.

The things that we call freedom are often nothing more than oppression with better packaging.

Solzhenitsyn—fresh from totalitarian communism—used the Harvard moment to take a hard stance against oppression masked as personal "freedom." What he was saying was that the things that we call freedom are often nothing more than oppression with better packaging.

His address shocked many, implying as it did that the land of the free, might actually be a land of great oppression.

Everything about everyone

The easiest way to oppress someone is to get them to believe they're truly free. Once they think they're free, you can do all sorts of oppressing under the guise of "freedom."

But those who think they are most free are often the most trapped.

We think we have the right to know everything about everyone.

Solzhenitsyn brings up something incredibly practical for us today. We think we have the right to know everything about everyone. One can, with a click or swipe, find all kinds of anything on the web about most public (and even private) figures—including our least favorite politicians, pastors, and celebrities. We think we have the right to know what we want about everyone. Particularly in the church.

I'd really like to say that this culture is different among Christians. But it's not. Perhaps it's worse. Now, more than ever, we hear a cacophony of voices say whatever we want them to about this week's controversial leader or issue in the church. It's produced a cottage industry of gossip among Christians online.

Modern online Christianity is beginning to resemble TMZ more than it is resembles Christianity. Blogging about our least favorite Christian celebrities is tantamount to re-enacting exactly what's been going on in the Korean peninsula for decades: We're creating a ceaseless conflict between two factions with no end in sight.

We just are using words rather than bombs. TMZ is just another way of creating a DMZ. Likewise, TMZ is the American DMZ. It is unreconciliation at a click, a watch, a view.

Supported by viewers like you

But friends, TMZ exists because we watch it. p*rn exists because we buy it. Chocolate made by the hands of slave children in the Ivory Coast is available because we want it, want it cheap, and will pay for it. Clicking is supporting. So if we want the online-gossip-TMZ-style-Christianity to end, we have to stop clicking.

If Christians spent their time clicking on stories about peace-making, reconciliation, and grace, the good news of Jesus, then …

Or rather, we have to click with integrity. If Christians spent their time clicking on stories about peace-making, reconciliation, and grace, the good news of Jesus, then marketers and bloggers would pick it up and start going in that direction. But because we click on the story about Justin Bieber's latest problem on tour, advertisers will keep feeding the beast.

Should certain pastors be held to account for their sin, arrogance, etc? Yes! Without question. And, truth of the matter is, you are free to write what you want about who you want. But is blogging about someone else's sin really a healthy or healing means of dealing with it?

If you know the person, call them on the phone. If you don't know the person, pray for them.

Personally, I'm done commenting on posts that are based on gossip. I'm done reading folks who base their blogging ministry on gossip. I have to be done.

I choose to give up that freedom.

A.J. Swoboda, Ph.D, is a pastor, author, and professor in Portland, Oregon.

If both blog posts hadn't caught my attention on the same day, I don't think I would have seen the connection. The first, from the Chronicle of Higher Education, noted that female graduate students were significantly less likely than their male counterparts to ask for full reimbursem*nt for conference-related travel expenses. "Women Really Don't Ask," author Minerva Cheevy observed. The second, from the blog Momastery, celebrated all of the people who rallied around a mother facing a serious health scare. "I do have a village, and I need them," the stricken mom, Glennon Doyle Melton, wrote. "I need them. Like folks traveling at night need stars. We need people like we need light."

So, what's the connection?

I know all too well the fear of asking. I recently drove to a faraway academic conference, rather than flying, because I needed to bring along my nursing infant son—and my husband (to help with the baby), and our daughter (who couldn't very well be left home alone). Adding up the mileage, my travel costs were well above the standard amount allotted for faculty members at my institution. Like the women in Cheevy's article, though, I was inclined to ask only for the standard amount and cover the rest out of pocket.

I also happen to chair the committee that approves travel funding requests. I knew that our pool of funds was up this year, while requests were down. I knew that if the "extra" funds weren't used within the fiscal year, they would be wasted; we can't, by law, roll them over to the next year. I knew that seeking additional funds would not affect consideration of my future requests in any way.

And I still hesitated to ask for full reimbursem*nt! My own money already spent on the trip, I delayed submitting my request and dithered about the amount. If I asked for too much, would the fund run dry? What if someone traveling later in the year unexpectedly racked up even higher bills? Was it fair to ask for more money because I brought my family, a "personal" rather than "professional" expense?

Here, I think, is where the insights from the other article come in. Women tend to have a village mentality, acutely aware of interdependence. We want to direct resources where they're needed most. Occasionally, we send up a flare and call those resources in for ourselves. More often, we try to do our bit to keep everyone else's needs met. In either scenario, we're constantly attuned to the flow of supply and demand, hesitant to upset the system by asking too much, or giving too little, or making any miscalculated move.

This awareness of interdependence is wise and beautiful. Taken too much to heart, it can also be foolish and crippling.

Consider two widows Jesus describes in Luke. The one in Luke 21:1-4 puts her two mites, all the money she has to live on, in the temple treasury. Jesus praises her selfless generosity. The widow in Luke 18:1-8, by contrast, isn't so selfless. She begs and begs a hard-hearted judge for justice, and he finally gives it to her, simply to shut her up. Jesus tells this story as a parable about prayer, teaching that if a cruel judge will eventually respond to an insistent request, surely God will grant the petitions of his people.

The model of the generous widow is seductively easy to follow, at least as an internal monologue. It prompts the voice inside your head to say, "If I just keep giving, with no thought of myself, God will be happy with me." I'm not suggesting that this is the right application of the passage, or that most people wouldn't do well to be more financially generous. But I think both the familiarity and the dangers of this mantra are obvious. How often have you said "yes" to a request when your weary mind screamed "no"? How often have you skipped yoga, or a cup of coffee, or whatever regenerates you in order to squeeze in another load of laundry, another beyond-the-job-description task at work? How often have you done these things just today?

The model of the begging widow, on the other hand, hardly seems like it ought to be followed. Hers is often called the parable of the "importunate" widow, a word meaning persistent to the point of annoyance. I certainly don't want anyone to think of me that way! But, what does this widow actually do wrong? Her cause is just. She asks for what she deserves and won't take a snub for an answer. The judge only finds her annoying because he's a jerk, a man "who neither feared God nor cared about men." Maybe she's not such a bad model after all.

Now, what's missing from both of these stories is the village, the rest of the social network in which these widows were embedded. Widows in Jesus' day were often cut off from society, which is why they, and orphans, received special concern from the early church. Those of us who don't share their plight should be grateful—but we also shouldn't hesitate to be women who ask, for fear that someone in our network might be inconvenienced.

I finally decided that my village would not suffer if I requested full travel reimbursem*nt. In fact, my village would suffer if I didn't. Driving to the conference had cost my family money (as well as a fair amount of sanity). Wasting travel funds would make my department look bad. And setting a precedent of treating a nursing mother's unique expenses as her "personal" problem would be a disservice to every future mother at my institution. I owed it to all of these people to set false selflessness aside and be just a tiny bit importunate. I had to ask.

Elesha Coffman is assistant professor of church history at the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary.

[Updated 10:23 a.m. Thurs., Feb 13, with CCCU official reaction.]

After a "careful investigation," the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities (CCCU) in October fired its president after less than 10 months on the job. On Wednesday [Feb. 12], Edward O. Blews Jr. filed suit, claiming the CCCU breached his five-year contract, tarnished his reputation, and owes him more than $2 million in compensation.

In response, the CCCU said it was "surprised and disappointed" Blews had broken from a required Christian mediation process, but the organization "stands ready to defend its decision to make a presidential transition."

Lawsuits only tell one side of a story. But if sustained, the alleged outstanding sum could prove challenging for the Washington D.C.-based association, which represents 174 "intentionally Christ-centered institutions" from 20 countries, to pay out.

According to the lawsuit, attempts at biblical conflict resolution (described below) between Blews and the CCCU have not borne fruit. A November 25 meeting failed to reach a resolution, and a second meeting proposed by Blews for January 29 was declined by the CCCU until March.

But Blews indicates he is filing suit now because "his reputation has been tarnished by CCCU's damaging press release" that referenced an "investigation," and because he has not been paid any salary since his October firing. (The lawsuit was filed on the day the CCCU began hosting a significant February conference in Los Angeles that was one of the issues surrounding Blews's firing.)

The CCCU issued a short response the following morning [Thursday, Feb. 13]:

The CCCU was surprised and disappointed to hear that Mr. Blews filed a lawsuit yesterday and then sent the complaint to news outlets, particularly since we had just recently agreed to the date he proposed for mediation of March 18. A Christian mediation process is required by his presidential contract before the filing of a lawsuit, and it is in keeping with our shared faith commitment to litigate only after exhausting all other options. The CCCU remains committed to the mediation process, but it also stands ready to defend its decision to make a presidential transition.

Blews claims he "did not commit any legal, financial, moral, or ethical wrongdoing or impropriety as CCCU President," and thus, according to his hiring agreement, the CCCU owes him $2,204,894.72 through December 2017 (the remainder of his contract), but has only offered him $200,000 and no benefits.

"CCCU has no grounds for terminating Dr. Blews for cause," claims the lawsuit. "It is simply trying to avoid paying Dr. Blews the payments he is contractually entitled to upon a unilateral termination without cause."

Blews claims that even for termination with cause, the hiring agreement stipulates he still be paid about $1 million (two years' worth of his base salary of about $304,000 plus benefits and accrued time).

A lengthy January report by World magazine foreshadowed such a showdown, noting:

Blews' contract may leave the CCCU in a financial bind: When he first met the staff in July 2012, he boasted that his "ironclad five-year contract" could not be voided even if he was fired with cause. … The Council could pay as much as $1.6 million over five years—a lot of money for an organization that cleared only $33,299 in fiscal 2011.

[For comparison, the CCCU netted $49,304 in fiscal 2012 out of more than $13 million in revenue minus expenses, and has more than $7.6 million in net assets, according to its most recent public audit. In his lawsuit, Blews claims he plugged a sizable budget deficit so that the CCCU could close fiscal 2013 with another surplus, and claims the 2013-14 budget "addressed and resolved the structural CCCU deficit."]

In his lawsuit, Blews references the World article as further damaging his reputation, stating the article was "filled with such outrageous allegations that apparently those [anonymous] sources were not willing to take responsibility for them."

According to the hiring agreement, as cited in Blews's lawsuit, his contract could be terminated for only three causes:

Action by President that is grossly immoral and felonious;
An explicit and intentional denial by President of his Christian faith;
Intentional failure by President to give best efforts to perform his responsibilities as President and Chief Executive Officer of CCCU.

Under the first two, the CCCU could stop paying Blews the day it fired him. But under the third, the contract obligates the CCCU to still give him his base salary and benefits for 24 months.

Blews denies any of the three causes occured. Instead he claims in the lawsuit that he was "devoting significant time and efforts" addressing "serious problems within the organization," including organizational dysfunction and unhappiness among employees. He also claims the CCCU board produced a "devastating report about him based upon interviews of CCCU's employees," but did not give him any "reasonable opportunity to defend himself" from charges such as failing to "execute decisions in a timely fashion," schedule or attend meetings as promised, and "plan [the] 2014 international forum in a timely manner."

The lawsuit notes:

Perhaps most striking was the fact that the investigators inserted the words "intentional failure" and "intentionally failing" into almost all of the report's subject headings…. It could not be coincidental that the report repeatedly echoed the exact language of the Employment Agreement's provision for termination for cause—"intentional failure."

Instead, Blews claims he had "been working extraordinarily hard, far beyond the call of duty," for the CCCU, and had "achieved remarkable progress for the organization in that short period of time," including eliminating a substantial budget deficit and establishing a balanced budget for the next fiscal year.

However, Inside Higher Ed notes:

Former council employees offered a very different view of Blews's time at CCCU in interviews in recent months, describing him as out of his depth at the helm of a much larger organization than he had ever led before, and controlling to the point that numerous key employees left the council within months of his arrival.

In a self-defense attached to the lawsuit, Blews acknowledges the CCCU board "critiquing my management in terms of timely responses to emails and telephone calls, time management and delegation, and off-putting communication of my authority as president," but claims he was working to address those critiques.

According to the lawsuit, the dispute resolution process is as follows:

The parties recognize that conflicts or disputes may occasionally arise. In recognition of the biblical calling to make every effort to live at peace with one another and to resolve disputes with each other in private or within the Christian church, this Agreement commits the parties to attempt to resolve any dispute in a biblical manner, according to the principles stated in 1 Corinthians 6: 1-8, Matthew 5:23-24; and Matthew 18:15-20. If any dispute cannot be resolved in private meetings between the parties, the parties agree to enter non-binding Christian mediation before pursing litigation.

For more background, read CT's coverage of how the CCCU fired Blews.