Frozen II: A Tragic Attempt at Truth

As a parent of three, having the time to actually see a movie in the theater is a luxury seldom afforded! But over Thanksgiving Break, I actually had the chance to see Frozen II with my wife, my siblings and their spouses. And after the feature film full of darkness, sadness, elusive hope that is realized by the end, and tinged with Olaf’s brilliant ability to bring laughter in the worst of situations, we all drove home…

…As we did so, we scrutinized the film. What messages did it speak? What themes did we agree with? Which were wrong? What was the agenda?

Can’t you just enjoy a film for the entertainment value?! Many in that same car ride might scream.

No.

(A note: there will be a few spoilers here.)

Again, no we cannot. I cannot.

Frozen II is a film loaded with far more than entertainment value. It’s not a children’s movie, to be sure, but it does offer an interesting commentary on worldview that is actually a bit different than many films.

Cornerstone to the plot is a wrong that needs righting. There is nothing unusual about this; many (if not most) movies are premised this way. But what Frozen II does so bluntly that many films do not, is to take the time to establish a basis on which things are called “right” and “wrong.” To try and establish a worldview for justice as the pivotal basis for morality.

And what is that basis for justice? Answer: it is the spirits of nature—fire, wind, water and earth. It is they that determine what is good and bad, right and wrong.

This is actually quite a bit different than many films. Think about it. What do most films suggest as the standard for right and wrong? If you’ve been paying attention, you got it right: Truth is in you.

Frozen II takes a slightly, but not entirely, different tact. That it does so, I find fascinating. I find it revealing.

And I nevertheless find it tragic.

Not tragic because the look inside yourself for truth message is the more accurate, but because it is reveals the longing of the script writers—and the longing of a people and culture torn from the moorings of Christianity—to look for absolutes in a world that has for years all but dismissed them.  

It is also interesting that, on the basis of the right and wrong established by the spirits, there must be a scapegoat—a person who is able to right the wrongs of the past. Of course, everyone who has seen the movie knows that Elsa is that scapegoat: the spirits gave her power to undo the wrongs committed by her grandfather. She is able to tame the angry spirits and, in theory, bring unity between two groups that were set in war against each other by betrayal and mistrust.

It is true that a superficial look at this worldview framework might draw some parallels with Christianity. A standard of justice broken and a scapegoat created to bring reconciliation is quite alike to the Christian worldview.

But this ignores some glaring issues.

In the end, it is not truly Elsa who brings reconciliation, but rather Anna who is able to use the spirits to destroy the structure (a dam) that has caused division. Elsa, if anything, makes things worse by furthering mistrust and division by her insistence to continue on her quest alone, leaving Anna to save their kingdom and Elsa’s own life.

Sure, these seem like worldview hurdles that we can overlook easily enough, if we avoid some deeper probing. Especially when you couple it with a key theme of the movie: do the next right thing, which I find to be particularly powerful.

Still, if Anna—representing all of us who are not endowed with special powers—is ultimately the one who “saves the day,” then the message returns somewhat anticlimactically to the same ‘the power is in you’  message that we suggested the film dismissed. Turns out it doesn’t quite dismiss it, after all. The spirits still create the standard of right and wrong—and in this, we find a bit of uniqueness in its attempt at absolutes—but fulfillment comes in ‘finding yourself’. Same clichéd theme unoriginal script writers have beaten to death.

These spirits themselves are extremely temperamental, raging here and there and then suddenly calmed by some mysterious power Elsa has that even she doesn’t fully understand until she is able to do just that: find herself.

I’ll pause here to revisit one theme I think that can have profound impact, commented on before: do the next right thing, complete with a beautiful song to promote it. Regardless of the worldview framework, it is certainly a prominent theme in the movie that we ought to do what we can to bring reconciliation in broken relationships, even if the movie adopts the oversimplified view that conflicts in society are primarily one group against another (with a strong politically correct dose of proclaiming that such conflicts are the result of racism, imperialism and bigotry).

But let’s get to the heart of the matter.

To Christians, the standard of right and wrong is not the cause of temperamental spirits or even a temperamental God, but a God who is perfect, holy and just. A God who created people for relationship with Him, and then with each other flowing out of that first relationship. The brokenness in the world came not from one group imperializing or marginalizing another, but from claiming that we are our own sovereigns, in need of nothing but our own intelligence, will and self-love. Brokenness and sin came from rebellion to the One who made us.

And freedom and fulfillment come in returning to Him, surrendering to Him, receiving His forgiveness. Instead of a path to redemption in finding ourselves, or even in doing “the next right thing,” redemption comes from a perfect sacrifice—a perfect scapegoat—and our submission to Him. Taking up our crosses, and following Him. Choosing to give up our lives that we might truly find our lives (Matthew 10:38-39).

Instead of temperamentally throwing a temper tantrum until we find in ourselves the will and truth to appease him—even in doing good things—we find in our Lord a love that understands we cannot do anything to bring reconciliation on our own. So in that profound love, He sent His own Son to do the job for us with the most brutal of deaths followed by victory over death in resurrection.

How different this is from the over-played message that we become our own scapegoat, our own source of redemption, once we truly find ourselves.

Christians, we can empathize with the writers of Frozen II—and the many movies whose mold it fits. There is brokenness in the world. There are wrongs that need righting. There are histories of injustice that ripple through society. There is a longing in individuals for an elusive fulfillment that movies like Frozen II try to wrap in a search for self or even the message of doing the next right thing.

But let us not stop there: instead, let us be the counter-message in our culture that says it is not in us to do the work of redemption, but in Jesus Christ. Do the next right thing—yes, indeed!—because Christ has given us a path to true reconciliation both with Him and each other. He paid the price for it. We do not need a dangerous quest following a siren’s call to find ourselves, but rather a humility — and far greater courage, if we are honest — to lay down ourselves for the life He has already promised those who do just that.

Why I Write What I Write

The following is actually drawn from an email I wrote about why I started this project, especially from a Christian perspective that might find my “pen” better used to write exhortations on Scripture and the Christian life (which I do, as well, in other venues). I think it serves as a helpful mission statement or manifesto, if you will.

What I see is a world desperately in need of Jesus. I see a world that looks to political solutions where only spiritual solutions will suffice. I see a Christian community of conservatives that believe false narratives about the American government and that idolizes parts of it and demonizes others, and I believe there is a destructive dissonance in that approach because it abandons the simplicity of the Gospel: that all people need Christ, and that political solutions don’t–and can’t–work.

I seek to break down the idolization of political solutions because of that: they just don’t work. They never have. Like Israel begged for a king against God’s warning that they would abuse power, and He saw it as a personal rejection of His sovereignty, so we too look to government power for solutions that only Christ can provide.

I also am passionate about seeing the church fill the void in proclaiming the truth of God’s Gospel–which is wholly apolitical–where they think that the government should step in. I really do want to help people understand the reality of the political and economic sphere, the inherent brokenness in it, and to help destroy the idolatry of the “king.” To Christians, I would say and do say that this is an opportunity to return attention to the true King. 

That’s ultimately why I write what I write.

(If this resonates with you, I would STRONGLY encourage you to check out my capstone project to this end: The Tale of Two Gospels.)

A “Sort Of” Win for the Cake Baker

A “win” for the Colorado Christian cake baker?

Yes.

Sort of.

(This originally was sent out as an email. While I typically reserve special additional content like this just for subscribers, I decided this one would become a blog post.)

As I teach my Government students, it is often not the immediate decision of the Supreme Court that matters in the long run, but the implications of the decision.

On the surface, the Court might seem to be a significant win for religious (and specifically Christian) liberty supporters, like myself. After all, the Court claimed that the Colorado Civil Rights Commission, which brought the original charge against the cake bakers, had expressed extreme anti-religious bias against the cake-baker, and accordingly not ruled fairly.

The ruling declares that “as the record shows, some of the commissioners at the Commission’s formal, public hearings endorsed the view that religious beliefs cannot be carried into the public sphere or commercial domain, disparaged Phillips’ faith as despicable and … compared his invocation of his sincerely held religious beliefs to defenses of slavery and the Holocaust.”

So far, so good. Right?

What the opinion says here is factually correct, and for us Christians, the charge against the cake baker by the Commission is concerning. So shouldn’t we sigh a sigh of relief if the Commission is not allowed to get away with this based on their anti-Christian sentiments?

Justice Kagan, in a concurring opinion, confirmed that the Civil Rights Commission was not being neutral enough.

Does anyone see the problem with this, however?

The Court was saying, in essence that, “because the Civil Rights Commission was too biased against something we think they should not have been biased against, we will not allow them to force the bakers to bake a cake for a gay wedding.”

Or, in other words, “pick something that we feel is more neutral or a more just cause, and next time we will let you control the labor of another person.”

So, while I agree with the ruling, it leaves the door wide open, based on the values of the Court majority. And even though I firmly agree with that value in this ruling, all it takes is another Court composition to find a slightly modified decision and use the brilliantly tangled language of legalese to declare similar cases to be not too-biased. “Just be nicer,” says the Court, “don’t be so mean, and next time we might rule in your favor.” Or, “we feel like the bigoted behavior of the Commission was worse than the alleged ‘bigoted’ behavior of the cake baker.”

In other words, it missed the whole issue, which is one of property rights, as I lay out in my post, “Bake the Cake…? Property and Discrimination.”It’s a subjective weighing of the Commission’s bigotry against the alleged ‘bigotry’ of the cake baker that only takes a later court to “feel” differently about.

I have studied law and jurisprudence long enough to know that this case will not serve as a protection against similar lawsuits in the future with a more progressive Supreme Court. The language of the decision alone is hardly enough to prevent future Court decisions from getting around it easily. And, on top of that, it’s squishy enough that other Civil Rights Commissions will be happy to “give it another go”, spend plenty of money putting Christians businesses out of business and casting a chilling effect for those who might just refuse to serve someone with whom they choose not to association. More such charges will be forthcoming.

To some readers, of course, this will bolster the justification for electing presidents who appoint legally-conservative justices, such as the recent appointment of Gorsuch (who I have very-much liked, so far). That is fine as far as it goes, but that’s a band aid on a hemorrhage. The real issue is one of property rights. Unless that black-and-white and principled position becomes the topic of debate, this case is necessarily a temporary win.

It is more than likely that, as culture changes and the state becomes more powerful, more of this sort of thing will happen. Don’t forget that litigation takes years and millions of dollars. So let me change the tone right here before the end of my email.

Will we Christians be bold enough to face the legal persecution anyway? Will we fight to persuade those around of the truth of God’s love and standards? Or will we cave to “respectable opinion” in order to avoid ostracism and possible legal battles?

I’ll leave you with two articles. The first is an eye-opener and not to be read lightly; it’s not an easy read, but I think very important for my Christian readers (but not for younger readers).

State Enforced Paganism in America” (from The American Thinker)

The second is also important. If you haven’t, give it a look. (This one is safe for younger readers.) As I continue with this education and thought-provocation project, I am led more and more away from just clarifying the issues, but to challenging Christians, in light of the dismal realities, to be bold witnesses for Christ. That is what is truly important:

“Will They Know We Are Christians?”


Thumbnail photo credit goes to foxnews.com.

Will They Know We Are Christians?

In an age where major data companies like Facebook and Google have massive databases of information on all of us, will they know we are Christians?

(This post is a bit off the “beaten path” of most of my commentary, but for my Christian readers, it is in many ways more important.)

Ours is an age in which we are increasingly known more by these companies than we are known by our own families. Facebook makes money by selling our information to other companies to help cater their advertising. But Facebook is not the only data-collection company, and perhaps not even the largest. Google—the search engine used in 75% of searches—also holds incredible amounts of information based on our internet activity, the emails we send, the searches we make, et cetera. Netflix, Amazon and others have records of the shows and movies we listen to. Pandora and Spotify know our music tastes. Though our smartphones have been doing so already, even our cars now record where we go down to exact locations. There is also some speculation that smartphones record and process audio from our day-to-day lives. Whether or not real or speculative, it is all but certain that the data companies we use (Facebook, Google, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Yahoo, Bing, Microsoft, et cetera) can paint an incredibly accurate picture of our tastes, styles, likes, dislikes and ambitions.

For many of us, we spend massive portions of our day interacting with software and programs created by these companies.

What are we looking at online? What are we liking on social media? What are we searching for? Where does our internet activity take us?

Add to this that all our credit card transactions are linked specifically with each of us, completing a picture of who we are by where we exchange our money and what we exchange it for.

What are we buying? What do we spend our money on? What are we giving our money to?

What if you add to that all of your text messages and an algorithm that used your phone calls to learn more about you? Or if these companies were obliged by the government to compile the data so that on any given day, they can pull out a file on Lukas Keagy and learn just about everything about me.

There was a day in which much of we did in life would only be known between us and the Lord. Those days are long gone.

So I pose the question again: will they know we are Christians?

Let me ask this question another way. If you could look at all the data collected about you, would you clearly recognize yourself as a Christian? Or would the vast and extraordinarily complete record cast doubt on this claim?

When I define the word “integrity” to my students, I define it as “doing the right thing all the time even if no one will ever find out about it.” But ours is a day that the last part of that definition is becoming more and more something of the past. Certainly, the motive for integrity should not purely be the accountability created by the massive data collection on us, but rather from our love for the Lord and our obedience toward him. Still, I cannot help but face the deeply challenging reality that a picture of who I am is so abundantly complete through my digital and online activity. This reality ought to be sobering.

Am I far too preoccupied with an unnecessary concern?

Consider that China recently implemented a Social Credit System, whereby the Chinese government uses digital information and the personal observation of peers and government officials to give every Chinese citizen a social credit score—a score placing them on a scale between a “good” and “bad” citizen. Or consider that the U.K. government purchased massive amounts of data from Facebook on millions of users. Or that the U.S. government keeps huge servers full of data from phone and internet companies in warehouses around the country.

Or consider that right now, Google’s Project Maven is working with the U.S. military to create artificial intelligence that would be equipped on drones to strike individuals that their computers had decided were enemy combatants based on “patterns of life.” Or that technology is being developed that would equip cameras mounted to police cars to continually scan the faces of people in the vicinity. Given all the data collected on individuals, a facial recognition system could link a face to almost an entire portrait of who that person is in the blink of an eye.

Many will react to such developments and realities with an understandable horror and knee-jerk repulsion, and certainly not without due cause! But there is no stopping this trend, and for the average person who will not drop off the “radar” to live life entirely “off the grid,” we return to the question we began with: will they know we are Christians?

The thought itself brings its own fears. In China, where public Christianity is formally outlawed, Christians who are bold about their relationship with Christ no doubt will find themselves landed with a social credit score barring nearly any profitable employment, and possible ostracism from civil society. We already see such realities confronting many in the United States, where a business owner who tweets a comment not in line with a given agenda, such as the LGBT social goals, will quickly find himself at the blunt end of expulsion from “polite society”.

Will they know we are Christians?

When a complete picture of who I am is revealed, will the record of my online and social media activity, where I go, my communication and the way I spend my money declare boldly that I am follower of Jesus Christ? Or will my complete profile look eerily similar to that of non-believer?

And I take this beyond just asking if we will have a clean record that says we avoid the sexually explicit and perverse. Will our comprehensive profiles—beyond presenting merely a “good” person—present those who follow Jesus above all else?

I want my record to, regardless of the consequences it brings. And because it will—now or in time—very likely bring consequences, makes this reality more potent, more dangerous, more crucial. It tears superficiality away. The whole of our lives are increasingly being recorded, collected and shared. Will that record present a person of the world, or a person deeply passionate about following Jesus above all else? And are we willing to accept the increasingly risky consequences that will bring?

The Potency of Christmas

Many of us have already (or will on Christmas Eve) sat through a reading of the powerful prediction of Isaiah 9:6-7. Or we’ve heard it in song in some classic or modern rendition of Handel’s epic Messiah.

For unto us a child is born.

Unto us a Son is given.

The government will rest upon His shoulders.

His names? Wonderful Counselor. Mighty God. Everlasting Father. Prince of Peace.

His government and its peace will never end. He will rule with fairness and justice.[1]

Polite and cute fireside stories aside, even of those of the baby Christ in the stable hay, this is the story of Christmas. If history has a pinnacle, a grand point upon which the rest of history rests, it was this: his coming, his death and his resurrection.

Yes, its depth and meaning are often best captured in childlike imagination, for Christ scolded his disciples, warning the adults present—those too smart for their own good—that true faith carried a certain innocence and childlike dependency.[2]

But it is, in the end, not a story for the faint of heart. And how we embrace the tale it would begin is the difference between life and death.

And for Christians in the current political climate, it is a higher call than we often make it. To embrace it is far more potent, demanding and rewarding than the cheeky refusal to say “happy holidays” and our swell of pride as we walk away from the cashier register having proudly boasted a “Merry Christmas” in defiance of the cultural trends.

I’m boldly standing up for my faith, we congratulate ourselves.

Don’t get me wrong; any aptitude in this description is the result of personal experience.

But is that extent of our public and verbal boldness?

The story of Christ’s coming into the world is the very cornerstone of history. The colloquial quaintness of his birth story—deeply inspiring as it is—is only the beginning of a life that demands a response. To truly embrace the child in the manger is to also embrace the sobering words he would later speak: “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross daily, and follow me.[3]

Publicly. Boldly. Under the sobering reality that “everyone who acknowledges me here on earth, the Son of Man will also acknowledge in the presence of God’s angels,” but “anyone who denies me here on earth will also be denied before God’s angels.”[4]

The politically incorrect response to the political correctness around Christmas lies in these little rebellions against culture—the “merry Christmas” reply to “happy holidays,” the refusal to write Xmas[5] and spell out Christ’s name fully (see endnote for the beautiful irony in this!). These are fine—and often very important! Bowing to the culturally correct language is in and of itself worthy of critique and appropriate warning. But the call of Christ goes far beyond. It goes to a boldness that will lead us into scorn, ridicule, possible loss of employment, court, and perhaps even prison and death if we are called (and obey) to places where these are likely outcomes.

Are we committed enough for that? Or will we keep our heads down and try to smother that level of dedication, seeking a delicate balance between being a cheeky Christian, but not so unacceptable as to risk our reputation and careers?

Let’s remember the baby, meek and mild, and then move on and remember also to “be thankful and please God by worshiping him with holy fear and awe. For our God is a devouring fire.”[6] The child born was the “visible image” of this awesome, powerful “invisible God.” He was the one through whom “God created everything.”[7] He is the “one who mediates the new covenant between God and people.”[8] The one who, in the end, “will turn the Kingdom over to God the Father, having destroyed every ruler and authority and power,” and having reigned “until he humbles all his enemies beneath his feet.”[9]

The one for whom Mary cried out, “Oh, how my soul praises the Lord! … He shows mercy from generation to generation to all who fear him. His mighty arm has done tremendous things! He has scattered the proud and haughty ones. He has brought down princes from their thrones and exalted the humble.”[10]

The one who will “rule with fairness and justice” and whose government’s “peace will never end.”[11]

The one who we who believe and obey will worship for eternity: “worth is the Lamb who was slain to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and praise!”[12]

At Christmas—and then throughout the year—, are we going to take halfhearted measures to find a nice balance between our affiliation with this King of kings and cultural respectability? Or will we proclaim boldly, as his cousin John did, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” …?[13]

This is the only true and lasting government. This is the true King we serve, and the incredible, powerful, challenging, potent, awesome, no-middle-ground message of Christmas.


[1] Taken from Isaiah 9:6-7

[2] Matthew 18:2-4

[3] Luke 9:23 (italics mine)

[4] Luke 12:8-9

[5] Ironically, for those who think they are cleverly eliminating Christ from the word Christmas with the shortened X-mas, X is the Greek symbol for the name of Christ. So the joke’s on them.

[6] Hebrews 12:28b-29

[7] Colossians 1:15-16

[8] Hebrews 12:24

[9] 1 Corinthians 15:23-25

[10] Luke 1:46-52

[11] Ibid endnote 1.

[12] Revelation 5:12

[13] John 1:29