From Scripture to Script

If you'd come today
You could have reached the whole nation
Israel in 4 B.C. had no mass communication.

Picture this. You're at a reception for your parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary. All the family are gathered to celebrate, and it comes time for you to share a few words about how much your parents mean to you. Would you simply grab the nearest microphone and start talking, sharing stories and fun memories? Or maybe you'd choose a poignant poem to express your love. Maybe you would put together a slideshow of pictures that speak for themselves. Or perhaps you'd play a special song because words alone couldn't capture your emotions. Or maybe you wouldn't speak publicly at all, but would Instagram a play-by-play of the night for those who couldn't attend the party.

God created humanity in God's image, and part of that image is the ability to share stories, and in doing so, share with the world what means so much to us. Looking back through history — through ancient texts of epic adventures, battle stories, records of families, and tales about love — humans have always seemingly had a deep hunger to share what matters most to us in our day-to-day lives. Even though the medium has changed over the years, from campfire stories to the printing press, from telephone calls to texting, from actors on the stage to actors on the screen, we continue to have a deep hunger to share with each other what matters most.

Today, movies have become a huge part of our story-telling language, with movie ticket sales eclipsing the revenue of even the most popular books. Sometimes we even think a book really hasn't "made it" until it is adapted for the screen. One of my wife's pet peeves is when she hears someone walk out of a movie theater saying, "Eh. The book was better." She always wants to say, "Of course the book was better because it was your own imagination making the visuals!" So how do we react when a movie is drastically different than what our imaginations have created? It may be simple enough to say that a movie is good or bad or funny or rotten, but what if the film's subject really matters? What about when the Bible is adapted for the screen? Sometimes it feels inappropriate to say that a movie about Jesus was simply "good" or "bad" or even "mediocre." What does it mean if you thought Son of God was a bad movie? Does that mean you don't really believe that Jesus was God's Son? What if you thought The Last Temptation of Christ was a great movie? Does that mean you think Jesus was really tempted to have a family of his own? Is there a difference between the art of filmmaking and the meaning the film offers? In other words, can good art offer a bad truth, or bad art offer a good truth?

When Scripture becomes script, it can change the experience we have with God's Word, so let's explore how the medium of film affects the way we see the person of Jesus.

How to Tell a Great Story

This is the disciple who is testifying to these things and has written them, and we know that his testimony is true. But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.

– John 21:24–25 NRSV

What makes a great story? Should it be compelling or funny? Suspenseful? Heart wrenching and tragic? Or perhaps being memorable is the big secret to telling a great story. At best, a great story is simply a story that matters — one that offers influence and change. At worst, stories are simply subjective, based only in personal judgment, and thus leaving each audience to their own opinion.

Great art — whether the medium is movies or music, visual or narrative — is something that points beyond itself. Consider the story "The Three Little Pigs." One day a mother pig sends her three sons out into the world to find their fortunes, but the Big Bad Wolf is wandering about. For protection, the three pigs decide to each build a shelter. The first two pigs, filled with frivolity and little care, quickly build their houses — one out of straw and another out of twigs. The third brother, more careful, patient, and wise, builds his house out of brick. The Big Bad Wolf comes along and easily blows down the houses made of straw and of twigs, but he is unable to blow down the house made of bricks. Determined, the wolf then tries to enter the brick house through the chimney, where he is quickly cooked by the fire underneath and serves as a fine meal for the wise and patient bricklaying pig. You might question whether "The Three Little Pigs" is a profound and great story, but the point is that there is more to this story than the actual tale. The story isn't about organic architecture or the biology of wolf lung capacity — ultimately, it is a story about being prepared and living wisely. In other words, the entire tale serves to point to a truth greater than the story itself.

"The Three Little Pigs" (or as I like to call it, "A Prelude to Bacon") also provides a structure for how we understand a modern story. There's a prologue and introduction — in which Mama Pig desires for her children to find fortune and safety. The introduction reveals that there are three pigs that will carry the story along. A brief look at character development shows us that only the third pig is wise. There is conflict with the introduction of the Big Bad Wolf. The story resolves with the wolf being cooked in the chimney pot, and the story concludes with wolf stew and a happy bricklayer. Across genres — romance, action, sci-fi, fantasy, comedy, drama — most stories follow a similar arc. The prologue offers background, the introduction sets the stage, the conflict holds the plot, the character development makes us fall in love with who the story is about, the resolution reveals that conflict is temporary, and the ending reminds us that all good stories must come to an end.

In a way, the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John follow this basic story structure as well. There is the prologue of Jesus' birth in the Gospel of Luke, and the profound "In the beginning" from John's Gospel. In Matthew 3, Jesus' baptism serves as an introduction of sorts, revealing Jesus' mission to announce that God's kingdom is at hand. Then we hear stories about Jesus' character — about his teachings, his miracles, his disciples, and his healings — all with specific flavors, depending on which Gospel writer is telling the story. Conflict arises between Jesus and those who have religious and political power. The crucifixion resolves the conflict, and the empty tomb offers us the conclusion that Jesus' ending on earth was just the start of a new beginning.

But even though the Gospels do have familiar elements in common with what we understand to be a complete story, the Gospels break the mold in important ways. The Gospel of John, for example, seems completely uninterested in the...