The movie The Vow, starring Channing Tatum as Leo and Rachel McAdams as Paige, is a love story about a young couple whose world is rocked when Paige loses her memory in a car accident. She remembers nothing of her personal history—not her family, her upbringing, nor her deeply fulfilling marriage to Leo.

The two questions driving the plot are: will Paige re-gain her memory (she doesn’t) and will Leo remain true to his marriage vow (he does).

That the movie is popular should not surprise anyone. The book, based on a true story, was successful. And beautiful stars with a romantic plot in a movie free of foul language and violence make a good combination. What I found significant in the movie was the glimpse it gave into popular 20-something culture and that culture’s view of life and love.

Life for these characters is male-focused. That is, the film is literally focused on men.
All of the characters in the film are strikingly attractive, but the visual focus is on the men, Leo in particular. When the camera closes in on Paige, she is often looking confused, straining to remember who she is. When the camera closes in on Leo or nemesis Jeremy (Scott Speedman) the men looks confident and strong or else look longingly at Paige. Even Leo’s frustration-fueled tirade is more engaging than the confusion on Paige’s face.

The visual focus does move beyond the face, and again the focus is on the male. There is an underwear shot of Paige, but it is in half-light. It is also overwhelmed by the full-framed, back nude shot of Leo just before and the frontal, semi-nude shot of Leo just afterward.

The male focus may not be surprising if we consider that the target audience is women, the main consumer of romantic movies. But this is a modern film, where the women are independent and empowered, and the men are fine with that. Why does the film assume the quaint notion of a strong man protecting the woman-amnesiac in distress. As it turns out, young people living an antique ideal is not merely a romantic cliché, it is actually a bedrock conception of the film.

The life of Leo and Paige is a contrast of young and antique. They are both 20-somethings, and so are their friends. Conspicuously absent are older people. There are no bosses, since Leo is self-employed and Paige has her own art studio. There are no mentors. Leo is an orphan, and Paige’s parents seem nice only to be shown as the antithesis of Leo and Paige. The father is an adulterer and the mother an enabler; one breaks his vow and the other forgives the violation, much to Paige’s horror. The happiest times in Paige’s life are when she rejects her parents, both before and after losing her memory.

Age is positive in the film, but only in things, not people. Leo’s job, for example, is “old,” a recording studio that does acoustic work. The viability of such an antique line of work is questioned by Paige’s father, the old man in opposition to the old thing. The young people’s clothes are often retro, clearly modern but fashioned on older styles. The clothes are right at home in Leo and Paige’s apartment filled with antiques and reclaimed shelves. Only the coffee maker is modern!

The most startling youth/age contrast is seen at Leo and Paige’s wedding. The camera starts close on their faces as they say their vows (or, vow), circling the couple. As the camera pans out, we see the couple surrounded by their friends and realize the officiant is one of their friends, not a minister or judge. All the people in the wedding are the couple’s peers. As the camera continues to move out, we see the context more clearly. What looked like stained glass is actually a collection of paintings. They are being married in a museum, surrounded by old things, antiques. The party is actually driven out by the officials since they don’t apparently have permission to have the ceremony there. Young people, opposed to the older generation/establishment, are married surrounded by antiques. Such is the world of The Vow. Old things are good. Old people, not so much.

So what does this say about the 20-something culture? It shows that, like most generations before them, this generation lives in a world struggling to understand themselves and their place in the world.

What it also shows is that young people have remarkable resources, resources that allow them to abandon family, financial, and cultural ties in order to create their own peer-family, financial network, and culture.

What saddens me about the film is not anything Leo and Paige did, but what the adults in their lives did not do. There were apparently no adults who reached out to orphaned Leo, or who supported Paige in her rebellion against her father’s adultery. The couple surrounded themselves with old things, but not with nurturing relationships with older people.

Yet there is among the young people a longing for the antique idea of fidelity, keeping one’s vow forever. Too bad the film didn’t show examples of how such endurance plays out over time.

So there are messages here for our churches: First, look to those who are younger and build relationships with them. They will not come to you since their culture tells them you either don’t want to have a relationship with them or that you are not worthy of emulation.

Second, celebrate fidelity. Announce significant wedding anniversaries publicly. Why would “the vow” even make sense as a term outside a religious context? Isn’t the notion of vow-taking a theological one, after all?

There is also a message to younger Christians: You are not as free from the past as you imagine. Seek and nurture relationships with older people, not just older things. Church is a great place to find good people to get to know.

God continues to work among our young people in ways that are powerful and amazing. May those of us in older groups be a resource and an encouragement as they lead, love, and live and learn to reach out to generations coming behind them.

Technically I’m a Tennessee resident. I own a home there. My wife and kids are there. My car and my driving are licensed there. But I’m a man in between worlds. I have bank accounts in both places. Each place has closets with one half of my clothes. I even have computers in both places.

I’m moving from Memphis, where I’ve lived fifteen years, to Parkersburg, where I’ve lived six weeks. Today I’m headed home to Memphis for a week, before returning home to Parkersburg. See the problem?

As I crossed the Ohio River out of West Virginia I had a strange feeling, like I truly was leaving home. It was nostalgia of a sort, I suppose. A six-week-old nostalgia. I was headed to the place I know well, to the family I adore, the the house that I poured my heart into. But headed there, I felt nostalgia for the place I’ve been less than two months.

As I drove I thought about the meaning of this wonderful yet out of place feeling. How can I have nostalgia for a place where I’m still the new kid on the block?

I really don’t have a clue as to what this says about me. But it made me think of my longing for the coming of Christ and John’s vision in Revelation 22. I thought of the river flowing from the throne of God, with the tree of life spanning both banks. Feeding. Healing. Life, new and forever.

Can we have nostalgia for the New Heaven and Earth even if we’ve never been there? Paul says “For in this tent we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling” (2 Cor 5:2). If I can draw a corollary between Paul’s word longing and my word nostalgia, then I guess we can have nostalgia for the New Life we wait for.

Interestingly, as I was thinking these things, I received a Tweet from my wife that brought my nostalgic thoughts back to my own home, wherever that might be:

May our homes be places that point toward our future home. May there always be space in our houses for those who do not yet know the way.

May our nostalgia for our Eternal Home be contagious! Maranatha!

[Note: I did not read the Tweet while driving.]

The faculty and staff of Harding School of Theology gave a dinner last Friday in honor of my transition into a new ministry. They shared kind words about me and my family, and the gave us generous gifts. They also lampooned me a bit with the “Top Ten Reasons HST Will Miss Mark Parker” list. I share this list as a token of my thanks for the kind dinner and decade of camaraderie.

Top 10 Reasons HST will miss Mark Parker

10​. His jokes
9. ​His jokes that are funny
8​. We don’t even know if there is a place called Parkersburg. It sounds made up to us. It sounds like a reality TV show about your family.
7​. On campus tours, he does a great job of accentuating our campus’s great features: our stately Georgian mansion, world-class library, and caring faculty and staff.
6. ​On campus tours, he does a great job of selling other aspects of campus: student housing that is basic, our internet connection speed that is conservative, and that stone Bible out front that is…ummm… rugged.
5. ​Mark actually did a masters degree at the University of Idaho in film studies. He specialized in criticism of Vietnam War movies. Now that our trained film critic is gone, we must rely on Allen Black’s appreciation of fine cinema, like Napoleon Dynamite.
4. ​Mark loves fine coffee. But now that he is gone, those of us who are not coffee elitists can drink our brew without fear of being judged. Except by Eddie Randolph.
3. ​Mark visits a lot of college campuses in hopes of meeting students who are total strangers. Sometimes he strikes up conversations in the school cafeteria. We are grateful for his willingness to simultaneously risk both rejection and food poisoning.
2​. Personally, I’ll miss Mark because he is the only person who laughs at my jokes.
1​. We all know Memphis, Tennessee has sent Parkersburg, West Virginia a great preacher and thinker. And we think she has a pretty cool husband, too.

Moving is always an unwelcome task. But God’s voice reaches even through the sound of tape screaming off the dispenser.

As I bubble wrapped my MDiv diploma, the program from the graduation ceremony fell out. Funny, I’m the one who designed and produced it back in 2005. The logo was updated since then. The name of the school has changed since then. But the degree still counts!

On the back of the program is always a theological statement about the theme of the year. Each academic year HST has a theme topic to guide chapel, speakers, etc. Normally that theological statement is a condensation of the fuller essay written by a faculty member. I compress it to fit the small space, but it is their thoughts.

Except for 2005, apparently.

That description of the year’s theme is not the essay. I don’t know why. But I’m almost certain it is a statement I wrote to summarize the year’s theme, bringing together the many thoughts expressed in the preceding months.

Not a big deal, right?

It wasn’t a big deal until I noticed the theme itself: “The Year of Young Adult and Campus Ministry.” The job I’m moving into is called young adults minister, and it involves working with campus students at OVU.

Young Christians on and off college campuses are committed and energetic, eager to serve God. They offer the church a dynamic present and a hopeful tomorrow.

I remember sitting in chapels during that year and people talked about the gap between youth group and college. And about the gap between college and post-college life. And about the gap between those who go to college and those who don’t.  Those were discussion I heard and felt deeply about. Those discussions are one reason I became involved with the National Campus Ministry Seminar, for example.

For me, finding that program was an affirmation of my upcoming ministry. I didn’t have doubts about the move, but a little affirmation from the Almighty is a blessing indeed!

Young adults who do not know Christ seek real answers to real questions. The church has an important opportunity to reach them with honest dialogue and a clear message.

God’s providence is amazing, working together the strands of our lives in ways we could not ask or imagine. May God be glorified through all those strands!

In a recent radio program about management, the speaker talked about Jobs–Steve Jobs, the president of Apple. He related the story of how Jobs called a software engineer at home one Sunday morning to tell him that the yellow in one of the logos was not the right shade. Jobs told the engineer he hoped the problem could be corrected the next day.

I’d like to call the form of leadership Jobs demonstrated Incarnational Leadership. I realize there was nothing religious about the event, and don’t know if Jobs is a believer or not, but his style shows an important lesson, if nothing else showing us what his style is not.

His style was not micro management. The software guy had been able to do the work and go live with it without Jobs signing off on it. Jobs was not hovering, but he did hold people accountable to the standards the company holds.

His style was also not drive-by management. Jobs was involved with the Apple adventure. He knew his stuff and he knew his people. He did not enter the situation as a stranger who happens to have authority, but as someone deeply rooted in the company.

Christian leaders, particularly in ministry contexts, can take a lesson from Jobs. Ministers must give great authority and trust to others. Micro-managed churches will bog down in meetings and corporate-like approval. Administrative questions drive the boat in a micro-managed organization–efficient but not compelling.

At the same time, Christian leaders have to be involved in the lives of the church. Most ministers will not want to exert the kind of pressure Jobs exerted since we often deal in a volunteer context. But the issue is, ministry leaders need to know the people they lead and serve. And they need to know the pulse of the ministries their church promotes. Absentee leadership will be capricious and discouraging to followers.

It’s a fine balance: serve, but don’t hover; give space, but stay connected. No wonder ministry is so difficult. Our hero is not Steve Jobs, however. But the incarnational leader Jesus of Nazareth. He knows us, holds us accountable, and trusts us to bear his name.

Randy elaborated on the list. I’m able to share the bare bones list, however. I think this is OK because the list is deceptively simple, so the brevity is part of the power. With thanks to Randy, I’m posting the Ten Ways in hopes that it will be a blessing to someone else as well.

1. Make a covenant: Set up an accountability group
2. Memorize the Sermon on the Mount
3. Quit whining
4. Take a risk. Don’t be stupid, but be willing to step up
5. Walk. A biblical metaphor for the speed of God: Ambling
6. Relocate
7. Calm down. Shalom
8. Simplify
9. Commit
10. Be present where you are. Don’t live your life in the future tense

The Grand Central congregation has been very encouraging to us. When we visited a few weeks ago, we kept running into friends from college, family of friends. All roads, apparently, lead to Parkersburg!

I will have the opportunity to work primarily with the 18-30 year-old crowd. If you have read much of my blog, you know that this age group is near and dear to my heart. I’m very excited about reaching out to students at the nearby Ohio Valley University as well as the young adults in the church and outside of the church.

Harding School of Theology is an amazing school. I’ve been very blessed to be here. I have really been able to grow as a leader, minister, and student of the Word. I cannot express my gratitude to the students, faculty, staff, and friends who have made this such a wonderful experience.

I ask all blog readers to join us in prayer as we transition to this new phase of our life. Pray for our family. Pray for our house to sell. [Let me know if you need a great house in Memphis!]

In all things, may God be praised!

This photo of Parkersburg is courtesy of TripAdvisor

Class handout: Parker-NCMS2011

Egypt. Syria. Libya.

The rebellion against the old regimes were often fueled by Twitter-armed folks aged 18-30. You shouldn’t be surprised at that.

Young adults are supposed to rebel. They are supposed to look at the system that is and find its flaws, confront the system keepers, and want to do things better. We should not be surprised, then, when they do just that.

But not all young adults live in oppressive regimes in the Middle East. Some of them sit next to you in church. (If you’re a young adult reading this, then . . . well, that’s cool that you’re reading my blog.)

The young adults near you likely will never throw stones at you. They have options. Instead of rebelling with rocks, they’ll just leave. They will find a place where they can stretch their wings and try to do things better.

Why are young people leaving the church? Well, maybe some of it has to do with a lack of space for them to be exactly as they should be: idealistic, ambitious, adventurous. Tame church has never really appealed to young people. I’m not sure it appeals to old people either!

Want to keep young people in your church? Set them free. Give them a vision of God that is worth launching a rebellion against the powers of darkness.

Coddle them, and they’ll be useless. Stifle them, and they’ll be gone.

Engage them, and watch your Twitter feed explode!