Tag Archives: exhaustion

Only So Much For So Long

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Are you a Star Wars fan? I am. Well, I kind of am. I’m not so sure anymore. The films of the original trilogy will forever be favorites. But then again, I was there in the ’70s and ’80s when they were let loose on the world. The prequels, I can take or leave them. The sequels—puke. Although there was that one scene in Episode VII where the Millennium Falcon was reintroduced. I’ll admit to having enjoyed the chase. The endless spin-offs? Just stop already. By the way, have you seen the box office results for the new The Mandalorian and Grogu film? They’re not good.

But I didn’t come here this morning to talk about how Disney murdered Star Wars. At least, not directly. In truth, Star Wars comes to mind because I read something last Wednesday that reminded me of the crime scene. And the Thoma family talked about it during dinner that same night. After that discussion, I’ve convinced myself we may have a serial killer on our hands.

Gallup keeps track of lots of things. Its latest numbers concerning LGBTQ Inc.’s acceptance in America are telling. I’m not necessarily surprised. Although I’m willing to bet that the people who thought they could force consent through exhaustion are a little bit nervous. That’s because, after years of rainbow-branded everything, Americans appear to be pulling back. Even some major corporations are taking a stand. I read last week that a few NFL teams bowed out of Pride Month. Parades in different cities can’t get the funding they used to get. Some businesses are actually putting out statements saying they were sitting it out, too. Jennifer read to me Chick-fil-A’s public statement. Take a look. It’s good.

But again, Gallup’s numbers. The findings sure seem to suggest that the public is tired of being re-educated. Support for same-sex marriage has fallen from 71% to 65% since 2023. That’s a huge shift in a very short period of time. Moral acceptance of gay and lesbian relationships has dropped from 71% to 62%. The trajectory is the same relative to gender transitioning. Its favorability dropped from 46% to 38%.

The partisan split was somewhat interesting, too. For a time, LGBTQ Inc. seemed to be gaining traction in the Republican Party. But now it’s slipping. Republican support for same-sex marriage has fallen from 55% to 37%. It’s no surprise that the Democrat Party’s numbers didn’t move at all, remaining at 87%. On the moral acceptability of LGBTQ relationships, Republicans are at 35%. Democrats are at 81%. On changing one’s gender, only 5% of Republicans consider it morally acceptable. Democrats have far more weirdos. They’re at 60% in that category.

Regardless of anyone’s opinions, these show a vast distinction. If anything, I think these numbers show that the two main political parties in America are indeed living inside very different moral worlds. I’ll bet the LGBTQ Inc. element in both looks at these numbers and sees unfortunate regression. I look at them and see a nation rediscovering its gag reflex.

Again, as a Star Wars fan, this feels familiar. And I should probably add Marvel to the mix, too. Genuine fans who watched what happened to these two franchises will know what I mean.

At dinner on Wednesday, I made the point that both franchises were once strong because they respected the worlds they inherited. Born in the ’70s, Star Wars had myth, fathers and sons, sacrifice, redemption, darkness and light, and an almost religious awareness that power without virtue destroys the soul. Many of Marvel’s characters emerged in the ’60s. They swooped in with courage, friendship, and dutiful loyalty. Then the films began, and they held to the original concepts.

But then Disney bought Star Wars. Then Disney bought Marvel. Then came the ideological machinery designed to rework everything fans knew. But it wasn’t just slight creative enhancements. It was a complete reworking delivered in a tidal wash of political ideology. The whole thing was designed to smother all the original premises.

With that as the goal, film followed film. Spin-off followed spin-off. Streaming series followed streaming series. At dinner, I told the family that after Disney took charge, everything in the Star Wars world started to feel as if it had been processed through a lesson plan.

The box office has now supplied some interesting receipts. The Mandalorian and Grogu is a huge flop. Some estimates say it cost $500 million to make, which includes international marketing. It’s been out for a few weeks, and it’s only at $248 million in worldwide sales. It wasn’t that long ago that people were calling the new live-action Snow White film the worst flop in history. By comparison, it lost about $170 million.

Again, I told the family during dinner that Disney seems to be in the business of losing any and all money it made before it got into the business of re-education.

I think the Star Wars sequel trilogy made the forthcoming demise obvious. By the time episodes VII, VIII, and IX arrived, original fans like me (and I should include my sons, who were raised in the lore) noticed a managed demolition of our inheritance. Disney could have stewarded the franchise’s lore with humility. Instead, they treated the old world as needing renovation. All of it—the Force, the Jedi, the moral architecture that made the story resonate with billions of fans—directors and executives spoke as though the old ways needed to be challenged and remade. A line from Kylo Ren in The Last Jedi captured the new spirit. I haven’t forgotten it. He said, “Let the past die, and kill it if necessary.”

The thing is, the real caretakers of the Star Wars legacy and the source of its genuine success—billions of fans like me—we can endure a fresh story. We can endure new characters. We can even endure surprises. What we resist is contempt for received things. We resist the smugness that looks at inherited loves and assumes those loves are flawed and need to be demolished.

Disney followed the same path with Marvel. It received a massive story arc that rewarded patience and devotion. Then they began adding ideological obligation. Audiences began to drift. Why? Because the people who love the films weren’t interested in beloved things being rewritten to scold them.

I think that’s the real cultural context for Gallup’s numbers.

For a long time, Americans were told that every new moral demand represented compassion and inclusion and diversity and progress and whatever other syrupy word could be used to impose guilt. The first ask was tolerance. But very soon tolerance also meant affirmation. Affirmation demanded celebration. Now it has become compelled speech, pronoun rituals, men in women’s sports, parental rights being stripped away, and public shaming for anyone who disagrees.

I suppose this is also where tradition comes to mind. When I teach about tradition in my catechetical classes, I try to make the point that tradition is, in at least one sense, the accumulated wisdom of people who learned, sometimes painfully, that certain things are built into reality. God’s moral and natural law are exactly this. They are the deepest structure of creation. Male and female, marriage, fatherhood, motherhood, the human body, the boundaries of acceptable human desire—these are simply givens, and they are far more durable than anyone with other ideas might think.

Of course, these givens do not grant permission to be cruel to the confused. Christians owe every neighbor patience, and most importantly, kindness. But kindness doesn’t require us to pretend that Disney—or anyone else for that matter—has some sort of authority to overrule creation. Kindness doesn’t require us to surrender reality. People are actually being kind—even loving—when they hold the line on what is real and what isn’t.

In the end, I’d say the Gallup numbers suggest that many Americans have reached the same point audiences reached with Star Wars and Marvel. They’ve had enough. They’ve been lectured enough. They’ve watched enough traditions get mocked and replaced by people who seem far more eager to deconstruct what human history knows to be true.

And so, in the end, the lesson is relatively simple. You can push people for a while. You can shame them for a while. You can flood every institution with the same message for a while. You can even persuade many of them that resistance will be embarrassing and costly. Still, creation has a way of reasserting itself. Reality will always outlast propaganda. And because tradition is built from real things, it has a way of surviving the people who sneer at it.

It’s Okay to Say No

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We’re five days into the new year. I hope you had an opportunity to rest somewhat after Christmas. I kind of did. Well, it was more like a few idling moments in between the typical full-throttle busyness. Of course, I fool myself every year into thinking I’m going to get a break after Christmas to just hang around the house and do absolutely nothing for a few days. It seems those plans are forever foiled. The first day or two is usually spent being sick. After that, I get pockets of time—a few hours here and there in between needing to be somewhere doing something for someone. I’m not necessarily complaining. But I’m also looking at 2025 and admitting I’m not Superman.

I had a phone conversation with a friend in California before our New Year’s Eve worship service last Tuesday. He asked what my resolutions were for the new year. I shared one of them. He laughed when I told him. The humor prompted a related question. He asked, “If you were forced to give something up in the New Year—something you could never have or use again—what would it be?” I didn’t even hesitate.

“My mobile phone,” I said. “Although, ‘forced’ is not the right word. I’m tempted daily to throw it out the window at 70 miles per hour and let the highway do the rest. I absolutely despise my phone, if only for the texts and private messages I get all day long.”

He laughed again because of the conspicuous irony. He had reached out to me that afternoon by text to see if I had a minute to chat.

Acknowledging mobile phones and texting as society’s preferred forms of communication, arrangements that won’t be going away any time soon, I asked him the same question.

“I’d give up spicy food,” he replied. “I love it, but as I get older, there’s a terrible price to pay for a date with Sriracha.” He shared a brief description of the unfortunate results. I agree. He needs to give up spicy food.

Overall, the conversation had me thinking about how each new year brings opportunities for doing things differently, usually for the sake of betterment. But it also had me thinking about how personal betterment sometimes means there are things we shouldn’t be doing at all. In other words, we need to be able to say “no.”

But from where I sit, doling out yes’s and no’s is tricky business. I say this because I know how easily people are offended by the word “no,” especially when it comes from a pastor. I could sit here and type for hours about how telling someone “no” usually ends up being interpreted as me not caring about them, even when it’s as simple as not replying to a text or private message. Of course, that’s not true. I do care. Still, that’s the era in which we live. It’s very centripetal.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the fact that when I say “yes” to everything, it means I’m saying “no” to an awful lot of somethings. Usually, it’s my family. Additionally, it means I’m saying “no” to self-care, the kind that makes it possible for any normal person actually to give a darn about almost anything they’re doing. Interestingly, even as Jesus was completely outward-focused in every way, having never given up on His monumental task to save the world, he still set boundaries. Even when the crowds were clamoring, many among them calling for His immediate attention, He still took opportunities to step away for rest.

That’s one of my resolutions for the year—to say “no” more often. It’s not the resolution I shared with my friend that made him laugh. Although, as I mentioned, it is somewhat related.

I suppose what I’ve shared here isn’t necessarily for me alone. It’s a lesson for all of us. Whether it’s putting down the phone, giving up spicy food, or simply saying “no” when needed, we should take stock of what truly matters. As I look at just the forthcoming month of January, I can see it’s already brimming. Saying “no” will be a necessity, not a luxury.

For some, hearing the word “no” will sting, and I’ll suddenly be the worst pastor in the world. For others, they’ll be bothered because the “no” will mean “not right now,” and they’ll have to wait a few days for whatever it is they want. And yet, for plenty of others, they’ll understand. They’ll instinctively recognize that saying “no” isn’t a sign of failure but rather an act of stewardship. It’s to admit that you, me—all of us—are human, and we are limited in time, energy, and ability. That means we must be mindful of how we use the resources God has given.

When I think about the people who are counting on me, from my family to the people both inside and outside of my congregation, I realize that saying “no” at the right times is actually saying “yes” to being the kind of pastor God has called me to be. I’m by no means perfect at this. Nevertheless, as the new year unfolds, I’ll start each day as I always do—praying for the wisdom that only the Holy Spirit can provide. In particular, I’ll pray for the wisdom to know when to say “no” and the courage to let that be enough. I’ll do this remembering that even as Christ drives His sheep along from one place to the next, He doesn’t do so endlessly. He also delights in leading His flock to green pastures beside still waters.