Yesterday I had the joy of going to see “Jesus Revolution” with a friend. It was as wonderful as I had hoped it would be. Jonathan Roumie, Kelsey Grammer & Joel Courtney played their respective roles with depth and honesty backed by an excellent supporting cast.
A great deal of this movie resonated with me, I was all in but when they quoted Ginsberg, I felt connection. This film spurred a walk down Memory Lane as well as excitement for the current movement I see building within the church today. Just as the Lonnie told Chuck Smith that his rigid congregation was a shut door, the hyper-Calvinist churches of today have attempted to lock and bar the way. They want to continue the lie of an exclusivist, angry god and a fear-mongerer’s gospel. The Jesus Revolution flipped those tables; I think today’s deconstruction movement will do the same.
The one error I would correct is that at the end of the movie it erroneously states that the movement ended in 1972; it did not. It ended in the late 1980s and this is why I anticipated this movie so greatly. It was in the tail end of the Jesus Movement that Pat and I committed our lives to Christ.
I saw us in the lost teens in smoke-filled rooms talking philosophy and looking for truth. I remember being a teen, hanging with group of long-haired party/ers talking about Prisig’s “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” and Casteneda’s “The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge.” Bonfires and music. Starry skies and deep talks about the meaning of life, of who was God and did we matter. I remember debates with a friend’s older brother who was a bonafide Jesus freak. He and his best friend, Artie, would talk about handing out tracts at the Catholic Church parking lot on a Saturday night; then talk with us about Jesus if we would listen. Ronnie opened my eyes to 1 Timothy 2:5; it stayed with me. He was planting seeds and God meant for them to grow.
Pat and I would get together in the fall of 1982, get married in 1983, finding in each other a fellow seeker. The alcohol, marijuana, sex, and rock n’ roll that our generation used to numb the pain didn’t work and we spent many a late night pondering and soul-searching. Then in early 1984 we gave it all to God. In February of 1985 we were baptized. Found our way to little hippie Christian music festivals, discovered JPUSA and Cornerstone, were led to a church with open doors that didn’t judge us, just loved us. We grew in the word. Pat read to me his Tolstoy, I read to him my Bonhoeffer, singing along with Michael Card and later Rich Mullins. Along the way, we made friends with others who shared a similar story- Rick & Kathy, Diane & Paul, Jessica & JB, and others. We entered the 90s with true family fellowship in the Lord.
Pat is gone, Paul is gone and so are Jessica and Rick. Seems that those who aren’t gone, have either become what they were part of changing so long ago or like me, realized the fundamentalist swamp that had sucked us in and let the Spirit pull us out. I’ve been watching a movement growing since 2020 when the self-centeredness and political idolatry of much of the WEC was exposed. In the film, the Pharisees of that day are griping about the hippies and their talking of a loving God. The Pharisees of today are complaining about the deconstructionists, CRT, the LGBQT+ community, and anyone who doesn’t share their doctrinal statement, and yep, wanting to make sure the love is limited. They see themselves as gatekeepers and want to keep the gates closed. I hope to see their walls tumble because their gates of hell won’t prevail against His church. (Doubtful that they even understand the geographical/historical context of that passage).