Tragic...

Horrifyingly so.

We were watching Lolo Jones, the favorite to win the 100 meter hurdles final at the Olympics, pull away from the group.  The 'set up' piece NBC had run prior to the race had us hooked and rooting for her.

Having risen from foster-childhood and challenge after challenge this was to be Lolo's golden moment.  

Then her foot clipped the last hurdle.

The last hurdle.

She didn't fall but the effort to save herself from doing so slowed her down to the point that she ended up finishing seventh.

She should have had gold.

And you could see it on her face as she finished the race.  Total utter horror and despair.  It was hard to watch.  She collapsed on the track and buried her head in her hands.  Later a telephoto lens found her leaned up against the wall in a tunnel under the stadium--in an unguarded moment--weeping as if her heart would break.

There's so much pain in the World.

Niki and I could hardly take it.  We turned the channel.

And I want to comment on it here for a few reasons.

First I just had to 'bear witness' if you know what I mean.  Needed to tell the story to someone, to you, to get it off my heart and out into the open.  Second I wanted to point out two connections from her story that speak--in my opinion--to how one can design story for the screen and how one must design sermons for the pulpit and how you can design your lifestyle in terms of spreading hope to others.

Here's the thing.

The kind of heartbreak Lolo Jones suffered is the stuff of novels.  Readers love the kind of 'rags to riches' story that Lolo has.  The benefit of a book is that you can tell the story internally really examining what the journey was like for her on a deeply personal level.  Those kind of books often turn into arthouse--small--awards season movies.

The reason the movies that come from those books are 'small' is because most people hate to be depressed.  A story of heartbreak that intense would yield a 'down ending' sure to leave your average movie-goer down in the dumps and most people don't go to movies to get depressed; most people go to the movies to be uplifted.

If the ending to a story like that included a second chance at redemption or at the very least the beginnings of a second chance--like we end the film on her showing up to the training facility to get back at it, preparing for her next Olympic shot, well then that kind of ending wouldn't induce instant wrist slitting.

So in our filmmaking we need to remember the power and risk of deeply tragic stories and make our choices well re: how we finesse the ending.

With the pulpit, I think the imperative is a straight one-two punch.  On the one hand you don't shy away from the abject sadness of it all.  You embrace the tragic component with open arms. Life is tragic and one of the problems with pop-faith is that it tends to gloss over the deeply depressing aspects of our existence.  Authentic preaching must not do this.  Authentic preaching must mourn.

Then, with tears, authentic preaching must point to hope.

The 'second chance at redemption' story must be told.  The light shone in the dark.

'Cause people don't come to Church looking to get depressed.  Most people come to Church (if at all) because they want the (honest) truth and they want to be uplifted.

Sorrow and hope.

Our stock in trade.

T