You know how there's films and then there's films?

There's films that aren't just something you watch and forget. They're the ones that mark a before and after. They're the ones that make it into your dreams and do something to your bones as if the change is permanent.

Loud Krazy Love Official Trailer #1 | May 15 - Limited Time Only | KoRn | Brian "Head" Welch

I don't remember much of the whole KoRn phenomenon, to be honest. At that time—the mid-nineties—I was busy being a giant nerd in high school, getting As in English (not P.E. or Maths, *sigh*) and having an extremely tame social life. I wasn't exactly riding the wild waves of the heavy metal scene.

So when I watched LOUD KRAZY LOVE, which traces the journey of KoRn guitarist Brian 'Head' Welch and how he walked away from the band at the height of their fame—there was still a little of that fear there—of the skinny adolescent me who was made uncomfortable by the kind of unleashed pain, anger and darkness that KoRn embraced back then.

But like I say, this film: It's a before-and-after film.

There was something that happened while I watched—in following Brian's journey as he made himself completely vulnerable on camera—all that footage from all those years—the good, the bad, the embarrassing—and shared how his heart was changed and how God used his love for his daughter to bring such healing to both of them...

To the point where, when we reached the part where God brought KoRn back together, I cried.

It was so beautiful. So naturally, supernaturally, classically—"that's so God" kind of beautiful—where you suddenly have this revelation about just how big and senseless and unleashed God's love is. He loves KoRn. I mean—he REALLY loves KoRn. Not in the Sunday School workbook kind of way, but in the loud, crazy, all-of-heaven-is-gonna-pour-out-on-these-guys-any-minute-God's-so-beside-himself kind of way. And he feels that way about every pain-filled metal-head in the crowd, too.

It literally doesn't matter what kind of music people play, or listen to—it doesn't matter what they wear or where they've been or what they've done, God's love for them is loud and crazy.

If you would like to go see LOUD KRAZY LOVE for yourself (and especially if you would like to meet Brian 'Head' Welch in person!) then go to www.loudkrazylove.com.au and get your ticket NOW!

His Love Really Is Loud And Krazy

But it is exactly what "those boys"—Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran—did.

And Execution Island, the new short film about the night they died, takes us there with them.

The power is in the truth of it. Yes, this film recounts true events, most particularly the overwhelming goodness of God in the midst of a situation that seemed irredeemable.

But also: this film portrays a wider, and at the same time more personal truth:

What this film left me with, personally, was compelling, tangible gratitude for the grace of God. Because Jesus faced his execution—for my sins—the execution that I deserve—I don't have to. 

And when these boys did face theirs, when they were forced to pay for their sins with their lives, then God made that sacrifice a thing of such beauty and joy that it was wholly redeemed. In the way that only God can redeem something—in the way that only a perfect Father of perfect kindness and holiness who chooses to die—can redeem something.

 And the fact that we all deserve execution, but only some, caught in a flawed government system, ultimately pay that price, is what makes the death penalty so unjust.

Christ paid the ultimate sacrifice on the cross so that we can have redemption and forgiveness, and access to the wondrous power and presence of God in difficult circumstances.

For this and so many other reasons, Execution Island is a film that needs to be seen.

Find out how you can show it for your church/small group/ community at www.executionisland.com.au

To Look in the Face of Your Own Execution

“I think that we human beings have a compass, a mysterious compass, which leads us to do what is right.” 

Hearing the quote above–which begins Summer in the Forest, a documentary about L’Arche, founded by Jean Vanier–I was afraid the film itself would be overly pat and syrupy. I was wrong.

When four men labeled as “idiots” were confined to a life of imprisonment in asylum-like institutes in the 1960’s, a young Canadian philosopher named Jean Vanier secured their release and created a space for them to live. The L’Arche community is a place of residence for those with developmental disabilities and their caretakers. It became a movement and has spread widely, with chapters currently existing in 37 countries. The original L’Arche in France, the setting of this documentary, operates to this day, and Vanier still regularly visits.

The striking power of this documentary doesn’t lie in the feel-good formula that it sets up with the beginning quote, but in its willingness to follow many of the residents in their daily activities. The movie gives the residents a face and a voice. For an often hidden and voiceless population, this story-telling decision is profound.

One of the most powerful scenes in the documentary takes place in a quiet room in L’Arche.

“Dearest Sebastian,” Vanier says, to a 23-year-old man in a steeply reclined power wheelchair, “you are beautiful. Very, very beautiful.”

The man in the wheelchair is nonverbal, only able to converse with Vanier in grunts and in movements of his wide and crossed eyes. Yet Vanier understands him.

“Oui….oui…..oui,” Vanier agrees, as he continues to talk to Sebastian about Sebastian’s upcoming visit with his own parents.

I doubt that Sebastian is regularly able to engage with someone who has the ability and the will to understand him. And I doubt that Sebastian is regularly, if ever, called beautiful. Most people, myself included, see beauty in much narrower, much shallower ways. Vanier helps to remind us, in this scene, that real beauty grows in connection with another person. Real beauty is recognised in relationship, even though it may be difficult. And I would say therein lies real love.

Many times throughout the film, the camera lingers on a scene for a beat much longer than I expected, despite there being no significant action. We watch a couple of the residents as they eat dinner together. I expected something insightful or dramatic to happen. Yet the dinner progressed with no sweeping action and no breakthrough dialogue; the scene just drudged on, despite my impatience.

Then, about halfway through the movie, when one resident of L’Arche was shown walking down a staircase, painfully slowly and holding on to the wall; I blurted out loud “I know how that feels.” As someone with a physical disability, the sense of connection was striking. Seeing someone who showed similar signs of struggling with stairs, I finally understood the reason for the lingering shots. This struggle–this frustration–is inescapable to those of us with disabilities. By strategically peppering uncomfortably long scenes throughout, the filmmakers invite viewers to enter the lives of the people on the screen more fully, more realistically.

Seeing people with disabilities on-screen is always a gamble for me: will the disabled be used as static characters who only exist to pull the heart-strings of able-bodied people? The sad truth is we –people with disabilities– are barely ever the heroes of our stories; we inspire other people to achieve their goals. Stella Young says in her TED talk about living with disability, “I’m not your inspiration, thank you very much.” People with disabilities have stories to tell, and not just to make other people feel better about themselves.

Probably the greatest strength of the documentary Summer in the Forest is its fearlessness in thrusting the disabled population from the background to the role of the hero. In another documentary close to my heart, The Ataxian, a friend of mine who shares my genetic disorder is the main character. The film shows his struggles and his successes from his own perspective. He is not the wise disabled friend imparting knowledge to the main character. He laughs, jokes, cries, struggles, and succeeds in his goal to ride a recumbent trike across the US in nine days in the world’s toughest bike race.

That people matter and have a story to tell, even though they have a disability–Summer in the Forest breaks no ground with that epiphany. Yet, it’s a hopeful step rarely taken in film, and it is orchestrated beautifully.

Seeing someone else’s weaknesses and challenges can be incredibly difficult. I would prefer to recognise only the attractive parts of others –their humour, their kindness, their intelligence. But that’s incomplete. Only by wholly seeing someone–their strengths, weaknesses, abilities, and disabilities–can we recognise them as fully human. And only in that recognition can we really begin to love one another.

The documentary Summer in the Forest was a perfect way for me to align my mysterious inner compass, and to recognise that accepting others–both in their strengths and in their disabilities–is the beginning of compassion.

SUMMER IN THE FOREST is IN CINEMAS from APRIL 29, and tickets MUST be pre-purchased!

To pre-purchase your ticket (support L'Arche Australia!) go to www.summerintheforest.com.au

Originally published as "Recognition: Jean Vanier and "Summer in the Forest," MARCH 22, 2018 on Sick Pilgrim. Matt Lafleur is Sick Pilgrim’s managing editor and a FARA ambassador. 

Heroes of Their Own Story

Drugs. Death penalty. Controversy. Why have we decided to be involved with a film about the Bali 9? 

Because this film is—almost—not about the Bali 9. It's about God.

Here at Heritage we don't always sit down as a team and watch potential films together. But it was only 12 minutes long, so we dimmed the lights and put it on the big screen.

There is no escaping the reality of this film. It really happened, and it feels as though you are there. 

But more than that, it is also drenched in a redemptive power that is so tangible it is physically impacting. 

"My past, before becoming a Christian was peppered with very similar decisions to his [Myuran's] and I want it to be known that there is a path to redemption. And while our stories diverged quite a lot, I think we ended up in the same place, declaring hope in something greater than what this world has to offer."

—Rajan Narayan  (plays Myuran Sukumaran in the film)

This is a story of a God who redeems. That there is no situation, no person, and no geographical place—nothing—that cannot be redeemed by the breathtaking, awe-inspiring, wonderful power of God. And that it is his heart to do so. It's what he's in the business of—and it's what he loves to do. And we want as many people as possible to experience that and be touched by that.

Our vision for this film is that it might be used by churches to touch the hearts both of their congregations and those who might 'wander in' to their church over the Easter period. It strikes us as the perfect event to advertise during the Easter season, (carrying many of the same themes of Christ's redemptive sacrifice), to draw people back to church for the week after Easter, once all the celebrations are done.

It also holds the potential to be very powerfully used in a small group setting. We know from personal experience that it doesn't matter how few people are in the room, the hugeness of the majesty that God displays through this story is the same.

If you would like to find out more about this film, go to the website at www.executionisland.com.au and watch the trailer. 

The website is also be the place to go for information about how to preview, download and access the film for your church or small group.

Why You Shouldn't Miss Out on Execution Island

Andrew Matthews wrote The Least of These: The Graham Staines Story. He's a husband, father, teacher, writer, actor, filmmaker, coffee drinker and Christ follower, and he's passionate about stories that really matter. But who is he really?

If there is something we love here at Movies Change People, it is a story within a story. And so often with the films we distribute there is a rich behind-the-scenes story.

But then, isn’t there always when God is involved with a project? And it’s no different for The Least of These: The Graham Staines Story, a film we are bringing to cinemas in May.

The writer (and one of the producers) of this project is Andrew Matthews, Perth school-teacher. Just how did a Perth school teacher come to write and produce a major feature film, you might ask?

Andrew grew up on a cattle farm in South Africa, and his life-experience includes boarding school, military service, backpacking across Europe and North America, moving to Australia, and raising boys. It also includes many years working in multiple areas of the entertainment industry. From theatre to screen, from actor to crew, Andrew's work covered an extensive range of roles over 16 years. Movies and TV shows such as Water Rats, Mission Impossible II, TwentyFourSeven and South Pacific, together with producing commercials and corporate videos, all provided an invaluable understanding of the industry and an ideal platform for intelligent script writing.

In the early 2000s, however, Andrew decided to take up teaching and focus on writing as his 'hobby.' At that time he had the opportunity to write some one-off television shows for Aneesh Daniel (the film’s director) in India. This led to discussion about the Graham Staines story. 

He travelled to India during the longer school holiday one year and spent nearly six weeks researching the story. He visited the Mission, the Leprosy Home, surrounding area and Kolkata. He travelled on the trains and buses in rural India. He stayed in a small rented apartment in Hyderabad with only the basic necessities as he wrote and researched. He met regularly with Aneesh to get his input on ideas, and they developed a number of drafts together.

A couple of years later, with chosen draft in hand, Andrew visited Gladys in Townsville and received her blessing to continue with the development of the script and possible movie. But it was still to be a number of years in which they continued to refine the story.

God continued to provide opportunities as they persisted with the belief that the fruition of this project was possible. And God brought Victor Abraham on board, a man with a vision to see 'stories that matter' being told. 

Andrew had hoped that writing was all he would need to do, but God had other plans. It just so happened that his teaching load was reduced in Term 4 of 2014, and this enabled him to take on a producing role - originally as an associate producer, but as the project progressed he took on more and more responsibilities. That was not an easy road, especially since Andrew kept up his day job as a teacher at Swan Christian College. 

Nevertheless, he is delighted that God enabled them to produce a moving story that honours the lives and service of the Staines family. 

And so are we! Thank you Andrew, for pursuing this passion project with all your heart, and bringing this powerful story to the screen.

To find out more, go to theleastofthesemovie.com.au

A Story Within a Story: Staines

Next month we are releasing a film called Summer in the Forest. It’s a documentary about a prayerful, kindly Canadian man called Jean Vanier and the organisation he founded for people with intellectual disabilities (called L’Arche, meaning the ark,’ and pronounced ‘Larsh').

Something happened to me when I watched it: I relaxed. 

More than that: I let go. And somehow I became myself.

That's pretty existential, and it's a big call. Generally, I don’t go for documentaries. I know some people love them—not me. I need my arm twisted to watch one, though I always enjoy them when I do. As a rule I prefer action movies—car chases and helicopter crashes. Desperate time limits and sweaty people running.

But I was only about sixty seconds into this film when I found myself deeply settled in—soaking. The sensation was enchanting. 

Why? I wondered. Why does this feel so good?

Eventually I realised that Summer in the Forest had connected me with something I seem to be learning about over and over in my life recently—one of those deep lessons God keeps gently teaching you when you don’t get it the first time. 

Because, like Jean and the residents of L'Arche, Summer in the Forest values the journey above the destination.

“Life is a journey, not a destination.”

Apparently this was coined by Lynn Hough in 1920. But it isn’t a new concept. I’m definitely sure God should get the credit for inventing it. Enjoying every moment—even the most ordinary of moments—taking pleasure in the simplest of things—is the joyful gift of God to his people because it reflects his own enjoyment of us and the life he has given us.

I have a friend who said to me once, “He’s a slow God.” She said it with a deep sense of satisfaction, and she wasn’t saying that he is slow to answer or slow to provide, but that he values slowness—as in, he moves at exactly the right speed, and though that speed might seem slow to us, any faster than that is rushed. And God does not do rushed. He likes it when we go slow. He likes the journey.

Rushing, even in the smallest ways, takes a physical toll on us which we were never meant to bear. If we don't feel the effects of that toll yet, then there is every chance we will as we get older. And as everyone knows, with our society accelerating the way it is, the pressure to rush gets greater with every passing year. We rush through our meals, we rush through traffic, we rush through our relationships. 

But it begs the question: where are we going, exactly? Where are we rushing to? An early heart attack? An embittered marriage? A car accident?

There are lots of articles online about how to slow down, written by some admirably zen people and some minimalists and some psychologists. They suggest everything from climbing a mountain to limiting your email-checks to moving to Spain. All of them encourage you to “do less.”

But the problem with doing less is the question about who is picking up the slack. If I do less will I be able to impress my boss? If I do less will I be able to keep the weight off? If I do less will my kids grow up okay?

And I don’t know about you, but squeezing a mountain climb or a sunset into my schedule so that I can be “slower” or tick my "Enjoy the Journey" box doesn’t really work for me. It just looks like one more thing to do.

Summer in the Forest is a meandering, sweet, late-afternoon-stroll of a film. The very act of watching it made me feel like the flurry of my life had gentled to the most delightful and enjoyable pace available to me. But deeper than that, this film spoke to me about how living in that place—that slow, sweet place—is possible. And it doesn’t have to do with a rearranged schedule—it has to do with our heart. 

Ultimately, it has to do with our value—and specifically, our value to an all-knowing, all-powerful God who adores us.

You see, the stars of this film—the intellectually disabled residents of L’Arche in Trosly-Breuil, France, and around the world—don’t 'achieve' much at all, in the worldly, traditional sense. In fact, some of them, if witnessed through the unkind, blinded eyes of the world, are classed as ‘a burden on society.’ "What are they doing? How are they contributing? Why are they moving so slowly? Some of them don’t move at all!"

But in every moment of this film, as it slows to join with them in their daily lives, the magnitude of their beauty as people—their ability to love, their joy, their precious worth as sons and daughters and friends—is richly evident.

And that is the point. Our value. It is something special to dwell in that atmosphere of being truly, wonderfully valued for an hour. It puts everything into perspective. Why do I rush? Is it out of fear? Fear that I won’t be enough, do enough, to merit love or respect from the people I want it from? From God?

If I stop doing things, and people lose their opinion of me, what will my value be then?

The fact is, the ability to go slow is the privilege of the children of God because we have an inalienable value in the eyes of a father we can fully trust. Nothing we do—or don't do—can change that. So we are able do less—to “let tomorrow worry about itself”—because we can put all of those things into the hands of Jesus. In fact, he wants us to. He likes it when we do. We can relax, and be slow, and enjoy this day he has given us, because he is much better at handling our things than we are. He cares about us. And he cares about our stuff.

We don’t have to memorise a long ‘How To Go Slow’ list and then follow it religiously. This is an inner transformation, a ripening of relationship.

His yoke is easy and his burden is light—he wasn’t joking about that. If you are feeling like you are carrying something heavy, and needing to achieve a bunch more things in the day to manage that burden, then clearly, there is an area of your heart where Jesus wants you to let go and find out that he is good, and that you can trust him. You can bundle your stuff into his arms (read: leave the laundry until tomorrow) and go watch that sunset.

Oh, and watch Summer in the Forest. Slow down a moment and dwell in the place where you see your own value shining in God's eyes. You won't regret it.

Summer in the Forest hits cinemas April 29

To make sure a screening happens in your area go to www.summerintheforest.com.au

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His Love Really Is Loud And Krazy

To Look in the Face of Your Own Execution

Heroes of Their Own Story

Why You Shouldn't Miss Out on Execution Island

A Story Within a Story: Staines

The Value of Slowness

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