So, today I found the film that we made last semester for producer's unit on Regent's reelgood.tv site. I'm guessing that our prof put it up because none of us did, but nonetheless its online, so I thought I'd post it here for the masses to enjoy. Its not the highest quality, and we're working on another cut of it at the moment, but this is the version we've got right now. Also, feel free to go here to rate it.
We're all pretty proud of it, so enjoy.
So it's cutting it off on here. It'd probably be a better idea to follow the link above and watch it on Reelgood.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
No One Mourns the Field
Hooves dig deep into the mud. A once beautiful field is now trodden underfoot. Disregarded. It is no longer simply a field.
Its a field of battle.
Steel rattles with the trembling bodies of the young soldiers. Chain mail jingled with each horse's step. No amount of training had truly prepared them for the brutality of war. Were their swords sharp enough? Were their shields strong enough? Was their armor thick enough? Could the captain actually get them through this?
Across the field, the enemy waits. They had dug up the ground and had entrenched themselves in the earth. The once beautiful field again suffers at the hands of war. No one mourns the field, because it will be restored. At the sighting of their enemy, they prepared their weapons and now lie waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Back on the other side, the army is growing in numbers and assembling. Their captain rides to the front. He says nothing, but his eyes meet every soldier's and they know its time and that he will fight to the death for them. He turns, raises his sword and charges. His army follows. The sound of hoofbeats is a loud thunder upon that field. Soldiers look to each other with the wind of movement on their faces. In the movement of the charge, blue denim can be seen through the creases of their armor. In the stirrups of the saddles, Chuck Taylors rise in eager suspense. Below their breastplates, black t shirts with band names printed across serve as their coat of arms. In the front, men in suits ride forth, experienced and skilled in battle. In their stirrups, leather shoes whose tassels are flying back in the wind. These men are prepared to lay down their lives in sacrifice so that those further behind can go further and win the war. Behind them ride the young soldiers. With swords by their sides, they draw their own weapons. While riding forth, they carry acoustic guitars, cameras, paintbrushes, Macintosh computers, banjos, baseball bats, soccer balls, Wiimotes, hammers, frying pans, fondue pots, electric guitars, love letters, light kits, borrowed books, iPods, mops, brooms, DVDs. These are their weapons. Each item empowered by the sword at their side. They ride on to meet their enemy.
Many fall.
But in the end, those who trust their captain to get them through succeed.
The field will be beautiful once again.
Its a field of battle.
Steel rattles with the trembling bodies of the young soldiers. Chain mail jingled with each horse's step. No amount of training had truly prepared them for the brutality of war. Were their swords sharp enough? Were their shields strong enough? Was their armor thick enough? Could the captain actually get them through this?
Across the field, the enemy waits. They had dug up the ground and had entrenched themselves in the earth. The once beautiful field again suffers at the hands of war. No one mourns the field, because it will be restored. At the sighting of their enemy, they prepared their weapons and now lie waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Back on the other side, the army is growing in numbers and assembling. Their captain rides to the front. He says nothing, but his eyes meet every soldier's and they know its time and that he will fight to the death for them. He turns, raises his sword and charges. His army follows. The sound of hoofbeats is a loud thunder upon that field. Soldiers look to each other with the wind of movement on their faces. In the movement of the charge, blue denim can be seen through the creases of their armor. In the stirrups of the saddles, Chuck Taylors rise in eager suspense. Below their breastplates, black t shirts with band names printed across serve as their coat of arms. In the front, men in suits ride forth, experienced and skilled in battle. In their stirrups, leather shoes whose tassels are flying back in the wind. These men are prepared to lay down their lives in sacrifice so that those further behind can go further and win the war. Behind them ride the young soldiers. With swords by their sides, they draw their own weapons. While riding forth, they carry acoustic guitars, cameras, paintbrushes, Macintosh computers, banjos, baseball bats, soccer balls, Wiimotes, hammers, frying pans, fondue pots, electric guitars, love letters, light kits, borrowed books, iPods, mops, brooms, DVDs. These are their weapons. Each item empowered by the sword at their side. They ride on to meet their enemy.
Many fall.
But in the end, those who trust their captain to get them through succeed.
The field will be beautiful once again.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Skype, Nooma, Wellness and Glory
So, taking a little break from the story to recount what happened tonight. It was nothing short of glorious. This post is admittedly disorganized and a bit random, but I find that if we do not mark the things that God does, then we forget them.
For a few days now, Daylah and I have been planning to go and work on our pilot script this afternoon. It was great, we went to Panera Bread and sat and wrote. It was exhilarating and exciting to finally write again. We made some good progress, fixed some problems, and she might have convinced me not to kill Paul's coworker.
Anyway, after we got back, from writing, we found our lovely Mr. Sypolt laying on the couch in a very odd state. Entertaining, but odd. He's had a cough that has been steadily escalating for the last couple of days, so today he decided that he needed some medicine. So, after Mo got back from life group, we made a group trip to Walgreens. Random and fairly uneventful. On the way back, Adam, still in an odd kind of pseudo-high, suggested that we watch one of Rob Bell's Nooma.
Upon returning, I thought I would see what Bread(ley) was doing, and see if he would like to come and hang out for a bit via skype. So, we get him online and pop in Nooma | Rain. Bread has all of the Noomas on his computer, so he syncs it up with ours and we watch it together. In the film, Rob Bell tells a story about taking a walk with his infant son, and while he's on the walk it begins to rain. The baby is terrified and cannot see anything but the storm around him. Then, the Father took the baby into his hands, held him close and safe and simply whispered into his ear, "I love you buddy. We're gonna make it."
After it ends, we all sit in silence together for a good few minutes.
Its hard to describe exactly what happened next. We realized that many of us were in tears. It was a fantastic moment. Then, Bread (a youth pastor in WV) told us a story about church tonight about just being enthralled and drenched in the Joy of the Lord by simply reading the Word with a youth group and having discussion about it. He had a marvelously goofy grin on his face that I've seen often on those who have been filled with the Joy. He had his OTB (orange-triangle-Bible, so named for the cover that has a- well, you can figure it out.) and Adam decided to go get his so that we could share in the Word together.
Upon randomly opening the scripture, Bread finds the first four words of Psalm 116.
"I love the Lord"
That was all we really needed. After that, the bottom of the spirit cloud just fell out. All of us were hugging each other and crying and singing joyful and exuberant songs to the Lord of Lords. We came together in an unforeseeable unity and just basked in the spirit that soaked us. The Joy of the Lord inhabited us and we became no more than vessels to proclaim his Glory. It was beautiful. The four of us squished onto a couch, and one in West Virginia skyping in all came together in true unity with God. It was a true love that connected us all. Long, strong hugs that shouted "I Love You, Brother!" and "I Love You, Sister!" and more than both of those, "Let us come before the Lord in worship together!" John came in eventually and we all sat with him and prayed over him and his family.
That's when I realized it.
This is the plan. This is what we are created to do. This is why we exist and have relationships with each other.
So that when we come together, we are so in love with the Lord (please see Psalm 116:1) that we cannot help but love one another. We are so in love with the Lord, that we cannot help but shout his name. We are so in love with the Lord, that we cannot stop praying for one another. We are so in love with the Lord that each of us provide support for the others to stand on to get closer to God.
"My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought
My sin, not in part but the whole
Is nailed to the cross
And I bear it no more
Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord, O My Soul
It is well with my soul."
And so, I encourage you to surround yourself with people who are truly in Love with the Lord, and may you ascend with them in worship to the throne room of your King. You will not regret it.
For a few days now, Daylah and I have been planning to go and work on our pilot script this afternoon. It was great, we went to Panera Bread and sat and wrote. It was exhilarating and exciting to finally write again. We made some good progress, fixed some problems, and she might have convinced me not to kill Paul's coworker.
Anyway, after we got back, from writing, we found our lovely Mr. Sypolt laying on the couch in a very odd state. Entertaining, but odd. He's had a cough that has been steadily escalating for the last couple of days, so today he decided that he needed some medicine. So, after Mo got back from life group, we made a group trip to Walgreens. Random and fairly uneventful. On the way back, Adam, still in an odd kind of pseudo-high, suggested that we watch one of Rob Bell's Nooma.
Upon returning, I thought I would see what Bread(ley) was doing, and see if he would like to come and hang out for a bit via skype. So, we get him online and pop in Nooma | Rain. Bread has all of the Noomas on his computer, so he syncs it up with ours and we watch it together. In the film, Rob Bell tells a story about taking a walk with his infant son, and while he's on the walk it begins to rain. The baby is terrified and cannot see anything but the storm around him. Then, the Father took the baby into his hands, held him close and safe and simply whispered into his ear, "I love you buddy. We're gonna make it."
After it ends, we all sit in silence together for a good few minutes.
Its hard to describe exactly what happened next. We realized that many of us were in tears. It was a fantastic moment. Then, Bread (a youth pastor in WV) told us a story about church tonight about just being enthralled and drenched in the Joy of the Lord by simply reading the Word with a youth group and having discussion about it. He had a marvelously goofy grin on his face that I've seen often on those who have been filled with the Joy. He had his OTB (orange-triangle-Bible, so named for the cover that has a- well, you can figure it out.) and Adam decided to go get his so that we could share in the Word together.
Upon randomly opening the scripture, Bread finds the first four words of Psalm 116.
"I love the Lord"
That was all we really needed. After that, the bottom of the spirit cloud just fell out. All of us were hugging each other and crying and singing joyful and exuberant songs to the Lord of Lords. We came together in an unforeseeable unity and just basked in the spirit that soaked us. The Joy of the Lord inhabited us and we became no more than vessels to proclaim his Glory. It was beautiful. The four of us squished onto a couch, and one in West Virginia skyping in all came together in true unity with God. It was a true love that connected us all. Long, strong hugs that shouted "I Love You, Brother!" and "I Love You, Sister!" and more than both of those, "Let us come before the Lord in worship together!" John came in eventually and we all sat with him and prayed over him and his family.
That's when I realized it.
This is the plan. This is what we are created to do. This is why we exist and have relationships with each other.
So that when we come together, we are so in love with the Lord (please see Psalm 116:1) that we cannot help but love one another. We are so in love with the Lord, that we cannot help but shout his name. We are so in love with the Lord, that we cannot stop praying for one another. We are so in love with the Lord that each of us provide support for the others to stand on to get closer to God.
"My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought
My sin, not in part but the whole
Is nailed to the cross
And I bear it no more
Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord, O My Soul
It is well with my soul."
And so, I encourage you to surround yourself with people who are truly in Love with the Lord, and may you ascend with them in worship to the throne room of your King. You will not regret it.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Weary Memory, Part 5
September 14, Year 3
My Dearest Husband,
Tomorrow is our three year anniversary. These have been the best three years of my life. You have taught me what it means to love. You have taught me what it means to be loved. In you, I find my true self. Yesterday you said to me, "I wish I had words to show how I feel about you." It made me smile. You have a precious heart. I know what it is trying to say, and words are just not enough. There are times when I don't need you to speak because your eyes have already said it. I see everything I need to know in your loving eyes. The eyes that enrapture me and encapture me in their gaze. No words could fully demonstrate that look. There is the deepest love I have witnessed. In your eyes.
Have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes are? How I love to see them twinkle when you are happy. I love to see you come in from a long day of work and wipe the sweat from them. I love to see the tears you try to hide from me when I tell you one of my sad stories. The reassurance that rests in them when I am sick. Just one look from you can drastically change my day. Those deep brown orbs that light up when they meet mine. I live for your gaze.
The hour is late, and I still have to say my prayers. So, for now, my love, I bid you goodnight. When we wake in the morning, our first three years will have finally come to a close.
As always,
Your loving wife.
My Dearest Husband,
Tomorrow is our three year anniversary. These have been the best three years of my life. You have taught me what it means to love. You have taught me what it means to be loved. In you, I find my true self. Yesterday you said to me, "I wish I had words to show how I feel about you." It made me smile. You have a precious heart. I know what it is trying to say, and words are just not enough. There are times when I don't need you to speak because your eyes have already said it. I see everything I need to know in your loving eyes. The eyes that enrapture me and encapture me in their gaze. No words could fully demonstrate that look. There is the deepest love I have witnessed. In your eyes.
Have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes are? How I love to see them twinkle when you are happy. I love to see you come in from a long day of work and wipe the sweat from them. I love to see the tears you try to hide from me when I tell you one of my sad stories. The reassurance that rests in them when I am sick. Just one look from you can drastically change my day. Those deep brown orbs that light up when they meet mine. I live for your gaze.
The hour is late, and I still have to say my prayers. So, for now, my love, I bid you goodnight. When we wake in the morning, our first three years will have finally come to a close.
As always,
Your loving wife.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Weary Memory, Part 4
His hands quake as he removes one of the journals from the shelf. Taking it into his arms, he sits on the floor with his back against the bed. She remains seated, unmoving, watching his every move. Her heart has an anxious pleasure welling up from within. Finally he will see. Finally he will know. Far too long has he dwelt in ignorance and denial. She longs for him to know the truth.
His hand strokes the cover with his hand slowly. The journal he picked up is bound in worn tan leather. The quality of the binding tells him that it was purchased long ago, when times were better and fine items were easier to come by. The cover reminds him of a pair of boots he used to wear in the fields. Those boots now lie in the corner of the house, worn apart with multiple holes, covered in dirt. They have remained unworn for years. His feet have no use for the worn out and battered leather. For years, the leather separated him from the mud. It came between his feet and the dirt of the world. That leather kept his world as he wanted it to be. Protected. Isolated. Comfortable.
"Untrue" she thinks to herself.
With all of the strength inside of him, he makes a bold move and opens the book in his lap. His eyes widen in disbelief as he reads what is on the page.
His hand strokes the cover with his hand slowly. The journal he picked up is bound in worn tan leather. The quality of the binding tells him that it was purchased long ago, when times were better and fine items were easier to come by. The cover reminds him of a pair of boots he used to wear in the fields. Those boots now lie in the corner of the house, worn apart with multiple holes, covered in dirt. They have remained unworn for years. His feet have no use for the worn out and battered leather. For years, the leather separated him from the mud. It came between his feet and the dirt of the world. That leather kept his world as he wanted it to be. Protected. Isolated. Comfortable.
"Untrue" she thinks to herself.
With all of the strength inside of him, he makes a bold move and opens the book in his lap. His eyes widen in disbelief as he reads what is on the page.
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