A Holistic Approach to Church Discipleship: Beyond Linear Pathways

As you think about your own church’s approach to discipleship, one thing is clear: true spiritual growth isn’t just about programs or pathways—it’s about building a culture that fosters genuine love for Christ and one another. On a recent episode of the Group Answers podcast I interviewed Barnabas Piper, a pastor at Emmanuel Church in Nashville, about their discipleship process and pathway as well as how they measure success and steward accountability. In this post, you’ll learn how Emmanuel’s emphasis on culture, environment, and values shapes effective discipleship that is both biblical and sustainable. While I never recommend any church adopt wholesale another church’s approach to discipleship, I wholeheartedly recommend tuning in for insights that can be helpful to you in your context.

Ever wondered how churches can effectively disciple people without falling into the trap of rigid, mechanistic pathways? I have. A lot. Or how a church’s culture influences the spiritual health of its congregation? Barnabas’ experience highlights the objective that discipleship is fundamentally about fostering a Christ-like environment—an environment that encourages ongoing growth, authenticity, and dependence on Jesus. This approach challenges the typical linear models, emphasizing instead that discipleship is a vibrant, communal process rooted in biblical realities. Below is an exploration into Emmanuel Church’s unique approach to discipleship, the importance of shaping a thriving culture, and practical ways your church can focus on creating an environment where everyone can grow in their love for Christ.

The Heart of Discipleship: Culture, Environment, and Values

In our interview Barnabas emphasized that the core of effective discipleship at Emmanuel revolves around a culture—an atmosphere of honesty, honor, safety, and gospel-centeredness. This culture isn’t incidental; it’s intentionally cultivated through daily practices and leadership that consistently reflect the gospel — which is critical.

Key elements of Emmanuel’s culture include:

• A culture of honesty where vulnerable sharing is encouraged.
• A culture of honor that recognizes the dignity of every person as made in the image of Christ.
• A safety environment where burdens can be shared without shame and where grace is foundational.
• A gospel proclamation woven into all aspects of ministry, from children to adults.

This culture allows the church to bypass superficial engagement and foster authentic growth. It’s not just about what programs exist but about what kind of community is formed.

Moving Beyond Linear Pathways: A Holistic View of Discipleship

Traditional discipleship models often rely on linear pathways—step-by-step processes that suggest spiritual growth is a straight line. This is an approach many of us have had questions about for a while now. Emmanuel’s approach challenges this view, advocating for a more organic, community-based model. Barnabas points out that biblical imagery—shepherding, body of Christ, building—paints a picture of growth that’s more messy, relational, and varied. Discipleship, in this sense, is less about completing a course or reaching a milestone and more about continual, communal transformation. So how do they measure this kind of environment, you ask? The leadership at Emmanuel encourages three core practices:

• Regular check-ins from elders and leaders assess the spiritual health of their regions.
• Group leaders report on the general state of their groups, observing how members are growing.
• Observation of whether spiritual values like grace, honesty, and love are permeating life and relationships.

The focus is on a culture of flourishing—an environment where believers are consistently being nourished and encouraged to reflect Christ, not just ticking boxes on a pathway.

Fostering a Culture of Growth: Practical Steps for Churches

Barnabas shared practical ways Emmanuel effectively maintains this culture:

• Shared Leadership: Groups have multiple leaders to prevent burnout and allow for shared responsibilities.
• Consistent Training: Regular leadership gatherings reinforce the church’s cultural values and methods.
• Relational Emphasis: Small groups focus on genuine fellowship, honest sharing, and mutual encouragement, rooted in biblical principles.
• Flexibility in Pathways: Recognizing that growth looks different for each person and that “progression” isn’t always linear.

In particular, leadership importance is emphasized—not merely as technique but as character formed by dependence on Christ, humility, and love for others.

TIP: Establish regular leadership retreats or meetings that reinforce gospel values, encourage vulnerability, and foster community among leaders—this trickles down into the groups they oversee.

Measuring Effectiveness in a Non-Linear Discipleship Culture

Instead of strict metrics, Emmanuel assesses success through a fresh lens:

• Leadership and elder care: Regular contact with congregation members reveals spiritual vitality.
• Community group feedback: Leaders share insights about the spiritual health and relational wellbeing of their members.
• Observations of gospel culture: Does the congregation embody love, grace, honesty, and biblical truth?

In our discussion Barnabas noted that this relational, observable approach is more aligned with biblical discipleship than rigid pathways. It allows room for messiness and growth in grace, which are biblical hallmarks of spiritual development.

The Heart of Discipleship: Loving Jesus and Reflecting His Grace

At Emmanuel, discipleship is ultimately about loving Jesus more—reflecting His love, growing in affection, and enjoying His presence. While strategies and pathways are helpful tools, they must always serve this higher goal. Barnabas cautions against turning discipleship into a checklist or a formula for earning God’s favor, as hard as that is, and emphasizing instead that spiritual growth is about heart transformation through the gospel.

Final Reflection: Building a Discipleship Culture That Lasts

Creating a culture of gospel-centered growth isn’t quick or superficial. It demands consistency, humility, and dependence on Christ—but the rewards are profound: a church where believers are continually transformed into the image of Christ, loving others and loving Him more every day. For your church, consider these principles:

• Are you cultivating a culture of honesty, grace, and gospel proclamation?
• Is your discipleship approach organic, relational, and rooted in biblical imagery?
• How are you measuring spiritual health—by programs, or by genuine Christlike character?

By focusing on culture, environment, and values, you can build a discipleship strategy that endures, spiritually nourishing your congregation and glorifying Christ.

Watch the full conversation with Barnabas Piper for deeper insights on YouTube: https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=FS4CUXp7GkU&si=mWnEfU8XZ43FTEVS

Transforming Your Prayer Life: Rethinking Prayer in Group Life

Prayer is one of those words we all affirm—and yet many of us struggle to practice with depth, consistency, and expectation. We pray often, but rarely pause to examine how and why we pray the way we do.

For ministry leaders, this matters deeply. The way we approach prayer inevitably becomes the way our people approach prayer. In a recent interview for the Group Answers podcast I host, Dwayne McCrary shared insights from his new project, Marked by Prayer.

The Long Journey Behind Marked by Prayer

Early in our discussion Dwayne shared that Marked by Prayer was more than a quick project. It emerged from over three years of reflection on what it means for a disciple to truly be shaped by prayer.

One key insight he offers is that those marked by prayer often begin with a sense of helplessness. Not weakness for weakness’ sake—but a growing awareness that we are not self-sufficient. That awareness drives us to Scripture, not for fast answers, but for alignment. From there, prayer deepens into grief over sin, patience when God’s help doesn’t align with our timeline, and ultimately a longing simply to be in God’s presence.

What struck me most about the conversation wasn’t simply new information about prayer—it was a reframing. Dwayne invites us to rethink prayer not as a spiritual task to complete, but as a posture that shapes disciples, groups, and churches.

What’s refreshing is that in this book these ideas are not presented as theory. Dwayne roots these themes in the lives of biblical characters—people who wrestled, waited, lamented, and trusted. The result is a resource that feels both deeply personal and immediately usable in group discipleship settings.

When Prayer Becomes a Formality

One of the most honest parts of my conversation with Dwayne centered on something most group leaders recognize: prayer drifting into routine.

For many groups, prayer is reduced to opening and closing moments—spiritual bookends that check a box rather than shape the gathering. Requests are shared quickly. Someone volunteers to pray. Then the “real” work begins.

Dwayne challenges that model directly by naming the problem beneath it: we often treat prayer transactionally. We bring a list. We ask God to act. We move on.

Instead, he invites leaders to cultivate a conversational relationship with God—one that involves listening, responding, and allowing silence when needed. Prayer isn’t just talking to God; it’s learning to be attentive with God.

That shift alone can transform group dynamics.

Integrating Prayer Into the Life of the Group

One of the most practical takeaways from my conversation with Dwayne is his encouragement to stop scheduling prayer and start integrating it.

When someone in a group shares a burden, insight, or moment of clarity, why wait until the end? Why not stop and pray right then?

This simple practice does several things at once:

• It reinforces that prayer is relevant, not ornamental
• It teaches people that God is present in the moment
• It connects Scripture, discussion, and prayer into one movement

When Bible study informs prayer—and prayer informs application—discipleship becomes more holistic. Groups move from studying God’s Word about life to engaging God within life.

Recovering Grief Over Sin

Perhaps the most sobering part of the conversation was Dwayne’s reflection on grief over sin. I know in my own journey as a parent I feel like, at times, I did not stress the presence of sin enough.

He argues that one of the greatest barriers to genuine prayer today is our loss of sorrow over wrongdoing. In a culture that normalizes, excuses, or minimizes sin, it becomes increasingly difficult to lament what breaks God’s heart—in ourselves and in the world.

This isn’t about shame or self-condemnation. It’s about sensitivity. A heart that grieves sin tends to be a heart that prays honestly.

For leaders, this has implications beyond personal prayer. It shapes how we shepherd others with empathy, patience, and clarity. When grief is present, prayer becomes more authentic—and transformation becomes possible.

Practical Ways Groups Can Use Marked by Prayer

One of the strengths of Marked by Prayer is its accessibility for small groups. The resource includes prayer prompts that help participants discern what God may be saying and how to respond faithfully. There’s also a free, downloadable group guide that structures the study over eight weeks—making it easy for leaders to implement without heavy preparation.

The goal isn’t to add another study to the calendar. It’s to form a new rhythm—one where prayer is woven into the fabric of group life, not layered on top.

Final Takeaways for Ministry Leaders

My conversation with Dwayne McCrary offers a timely reminder: prayer is not a program, a segment, or a transition. It’s a relationship.

For leaders, a few takeaways stand out:

• Prayer works best when framed as conversation, not transaction
• Groups grow deeper when prayer happens in the moment, not just at the edges
• Genuine prayer often flows from honest grief over sin and dependence on God
• Discipleship resources should shape posture, not just provide content

If we want churches marked by spiritual depth, our leaders—and our groups—must be marked by prayer. Not perfectly. Not performatively. But humbly, consistently, and expectantly.

And that’s a transformation worth pursuing.

If you’re interested in listening to the entire Group Answers interview, you can access it by clicking here.

And if you’re interested in knowing more about the book, click here to learn more about Marked by Prayer.

The Tao of Discipleship: Integrating Heart and Mind

As part of my professional role I’m in and out of a lot of conversations about discipleship. Whether it’s the weekly podcast I co-host or the various conversations I’m in with discipleship leaders from so many different places and in so many different contexts, I’m exposed to quite a bit of practical, strategic, theological, and philosophical insights about the marks of a disciple, approaches to discipleship both the personal and church level, and effective disciple making. On the one hand discipleship is easy. Simply stated, discipleship is becoming more and more like Jesus. On the other hand, it can seem somewhat fleeting and, frankly, difficult to grasp. In all these conversations that I’m in with so many leaders from California to New York, from Florida to Colorado, one thing keeps coming up.  

We’re missing something. Something that, perhaps, lies beyond intellectual distinctions. Something, perhaps, beyond our models and language. Beyond our helpful pathways and funnels.

I’ve read one Jane Austen novel — Emma — and what I remember most about the plot is that once everyone was married the story ended. From that reading experience I remember two things. First, Austen as every bit the canonical writer she’s considered to be. And second, this line from the book: “Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken.”  

There are things that stick with all of us from the many places and experiences of our lives. It’s always been interesting to me those things from all of life’s minutes and hours and weeks and days that tend to stay with us — that stick. This line from Emma is one of those things for me. Anytime I’m prompted for a quote this is always top-of-mind. My preference is not to conclude that Austen is making a general statement about humanity. Rather, I choose to conclude that what she is intimating to us is that our senses, for the most part, cannot be completely trusted; that something – some aspect of reality – lies beyond our ability to articulate it. To me, the sum of it is that there’s more to our sense of reality than anything we might realize; that we’re only privy to pieces of reality at any given time. We have limits. We have faults.  

I’ve also read that our minds tend to act on this partial reality. Because there’s so much to process in terms of environmental input, for instance, our eyes cannot possibly register everything around us. And so, as a result, our brains are trained to “fill” what we see — to make assumptions based on patterns. In other words, our minds instinctively make up pieces of what we see as a shortcut. This is how we can miss things in plain sight.  

It very well could be that this same phenomenon can be applied to our discipleship and spiritual development. Recently I’ve picked up Constantine Campbell’s Paul and the Union of Christ. This 300+ page book takes on the what-would-appear-to-be simple 2-word phrase found more than 70 times in Paul’s New Testament epistles: “in Christ.” (300 pages to unpack just two words!) Like the driver that didn’t see the car, too often believers don’t push pause and encamp on ideas and concepts with the most profound implication. There are, for instance, at least 12 different ways to understand the “in” part of “in Christ”. And that’s before you even get to the much more profound concept of messianic atonement and the personhood of Jesus.  

Suffice it to say that there’s a reality that transcends sensory perception. I will take this a step further to extend this concept into language and how we even articulate this kind of ideology. That is, the minute we put something to words, something, maybe an essence of something, is lost. This is due to the limits of language. I had a graduate course rooted in Elizabethan literature that couched this within a thing called Neoplatonism with origins in Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave”.  

None of this makes words wrong, mind you, just incomplete. This also points to our limits as humans. After all, don’t we have to admit that there are aspects of the physical world that we can’t explain or just don’t know about. In certain parlance our attempts to explain things may be referenced as “academic”. So academics can only take you so far. What I’m describing here is the Tao: a direct experience of reality that transcends not only intellectual thinking but also sensory perception. (Or at least this is one way to package this whole thing up.) In Campbell’s book this is referred to as Pauline mysticism. An interesting term, no doubt, and frankly a new one for me.  

But I like it.  

Author Fritjof Capra describes this sort of phenomenon as something that can “never be adequately described by words, because it lies beyond the realms of the sense and of the intellect from which our words and concepts are derived.” And here’s the rub: Capra is a theoretical high-energy physics authority with a Ph.D in the physical sciences. So he’s describing the natural world of physics, not our topic of discipleship. But it’s fascinating that there is application from sides of the coin. 

Yes, there is a science of discipleship. The “mechanics.” These are habits of a disciple that should be practiced and the markers of a disciple that should be visible. There is the journey of a disciple that should be followed. There is a pathway to be laid out for new believers and mature believers alike. There is study to be taken on. There is information to be gained. There is a mentor-mentee element to be instituted. Disciples should share their faith and continue learning. Disciples need to be routinely in the revealed word of God and in a state and posture of prayer. We as the church more often than not get these things right. And yet I also believe that something has been lost in the last season of evangelical thought.  

In the 17th Century Rene Descartes instituted what is now known as the Cartesian division that advocated a separation of the “things of the mind” from “things of matter”. While this helped humanity look at the world more objectively from a detached perspective, it had the unfortunate consequence of separating the mind from experience and, essentially, pushing us toward a mathematical or mechanical understanding of the world. Again, this isn’t wrong and has in fact served us well, but it may very well be incomplete. The Cartesian Division, I believe, found its way into too much of our innate curiosity including theology. To some degree we have lost the imagination. To some degree we have lost a sense of wonder.  

So in addition to the science, or mechanics, of discipleship there is also a — what I will call — “tao of discipleship”. In this realm beyond the senses and the intellect — Paul somewhat describes this as the love that is beyond knowledge — is a willingness to remain still in the tensions and dualities of the here-but-not-yet; the time-between-time; the then and soon-coming. The tao of discipleship invites us to feel and ask questions. To probe deeper but with something other than intellect or the most rationale part of our thinking. Again, there is a certain stillness implied here. In this aspect of our spiritual growth and maturity it is difficult to find ways to be measured. It asks us to wrestle nobly with, as an example, what it means to be “in Christ” with all its implications and different threads in addition to knowing and practicing the 1-2-3’s of what a disciple is.  

I’m trying really hard to avoid using words like “mystic” and “mediation” because I know how that freaks us out. But if the simplest definition of “mystic” has anything to do with addressing, approaching, or interacting with the divine in any way then it’s very much in play. We shouldn’t be so averse to a fresh perspective and, frankly, honesty in this vane. Essentially, the exhortation here is only to call the mind and what we typically call the heart — our whole identity — back into a more thoughtful union. And on the matter of whole identity, think about the nuance of the current human experience. There is an enormous area of discipleship that is the same for all of us. There is also an enormous area that is, for instance, unique to the victim of abuse; to the person recovering from divorce; to those unmarried or those without children; to those of different cultures and different cultural backstories; to young adults navigating an increasingly confusing world; to those in estranged or broken relationships; to those brought up in a dysfunctional home. The journeys toward effective and true discipleship in some respects are infinite or, at the least, can have a piece that is very personal. 

To conclude, beyond the mechanics of discipleship we would do well to consider the broader scope of those things that lie beyond our models, words, and formulas. Specifics here belong to something more comprehensive than a blog post. The “whole of discipleship” is a transcendent paradigm that is both / and. Discipleship is, of course, practical knowledge that we continue to grow. Paul’s prayer for the Colossians (Col. 1:9ff) is a great example. Accordingly, discipleship is also how we embody and act out of that knowledge. But there is something else that is quite a bit less ready-made and demands just as much of us. While the specific language here I’m less confident about, it has a lot to do with the literal transformation of a new heart to replace our heart of stone. Words begin to get much harder with this kind of concept. According to Scripture, the old is literally gone and replaced with the new. Ezekiel refers to this as the heart of stone replaced with a heart of flesh. Jeremiah talks about the law being written on these new hearts so as to no longer require the stone tablet law. In short, it is this: Jesus. 

In whatever case, this is a literal changing of something very constitutional – our identity – that invites us into something at some level impossible to describe.  

Beauty and the Discipleship Equation

“I don’t want to proselytize,” I said. My wife and I had just relocated from the heart of the Bible Belt to the West for the second time in our marriage. We were driving a major thoroughfare in our new hometown and talking about church, where to visit, what is most important to us and how we should be open to making a decision. In the moment in the back of my mind is planting a church — or laying a foundation for such a move — but I keep that to myself. The point I was trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to make was that I just do not want my relationships to be anything akin to “you, good people of Colorado and greater Denver, have a problem and your solution is to be more like me.” Even though none of us would admit it, unfortunately, too often that’s how our message can resonate. No, it has to be an invitation.

But the question I keep wrestling with: An invitation to what? What am I inviting people into?

Is it an apologetical journey? An explanation? Something that pricks the intellect? This comes off as dissonant and uninspiring to me. And it seems finite.

Is it church? An opportunity to actively participate in the story God is revealing, has been revealing, and will continue to reveal; a redemptive community of encouragement and growth. A sacred space and house of worship; a physical location to meet the creator and architect of the universe and experience His presence firsthand both personally and corporately. Yeah. But, amazingly, there’s more.

Is it a personal relationship with Jesus in a dynamic and ever-changing quid pro quo? Yes. But do we really understand the fullest implication of this, the remarkable depth? 

Am I inviting them into this oft-referenced but seldom truly explored concept of kingdom? I think this gets much closer and encompasses the last two very well. 

And so I put myself to study and prayer and a renewed openness to so many leaders and disciple makers in my circles as a vocational ministry type. I retrace my own steps and put back into circulation things I’ve picked up on my own journey but had somewhat put away. These include things like our questions, more often than we realize, are more important than the answers — our questions guide us; like a quote from a book I read years ago from an obscure author: “best I can tell God is in the people business”; like my conclusion that the more anyone of us matures as a disciple the more we begin to recognize everyone we meet, anywhere and at any time, regardless or race or ethnicity or politcal affinity as a unique image bearer of God’s; like the time a mentor said to me that God doesn’t love us despite our faults, but because of them — while theologically problematic it was nonetheless something that truly opened my heart to an infinite and unconditional love that before that I couldn’t really grasp; like the reality that we are all fighting a great battle; like the reality that we are all broken, carrying around scars inside like the oldest most ancient tree hiding the scars deep within its rings of lightning strikes, disease, and fire; like the burdens we can’t possibly carry and the pharisees of Luke 11 not lifting a finger to help; like the heart — what most of us use when we mean the word “me” — shivering in the cold and exposed to all kinds of real or imagined fears. 

What are we inviting people into? 

In my heart of hearts I think it gets lost sometimes the events captured in Luke 4 where, if you’ll recall, after the temptations and after Jesus had returned to Galilee and after word about Jesus as a teacher had spread throughout the region, a scroll was given to Him in which Jesus essentially answers the question, “Who are you?”

The answer He gives is pretty pithy: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me,” he begins before continuing, “He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives, to restore sight to the blind, to set free the oppressed.” When Jesus is answering the question “who are you?”, this is his answer. It’s simple. It demonstrates an understanding of who we are. It points to our deepest and most unspoken needs. It stirs the heart. It’s beautiful.

The fuller text of the scroll, Isaiah 61, from which Jesus reads, includes a reference to comforting all who mourn and the wonderfully profound statement about giving all of us a crown of beauty instead of ashes, or beauty to replace ruin and loss — frankly a shocking statement if taken in any kind of literal sense.  (Is this not describing something alive within us all?)

Thinking out loud here. What are we inviting people into? Maybe, in a word, it’s beauty. Yes, there are many ways to articulate beauty from the relentless and rhythmic pounding of the beach by the ocean waves (shout out to “beach people”) to the wind whispering within the pines to announce a mountainside sunrise (shout out to “mountain people”) and everything in between. Too often, in my opinion, we don’t double click on the more meaningful things of our lives and, again in my opinion, beauty is one of those things. Jesus referred to these things as “the weightier matters.” As CS Lewis so famously wrote, we are far too easily pleased. In this sense we choose not to dive beyond morality, scholarship, trivia, historicity and study, and platitudes of our discipleship to a place deep enough to consider Jesus as the absolute embodiment of beauty in every aspect. In fact, I would take it a step further and wonder aloud if the opposite of evil is not good but beauty; that beauty, a concept with the greatest capacity (along with pain) for piercing the human heart, is the best most capable foil of evil. 

In addition to wrestling with this question I would encourage you to also consider what any of this means to you. That is, what does it mean to you to live in the now-but-not-yet kingdom among us?  The kingdom proposition is the ultimate both/and. It’s complex and can even be frustrating. It’s reality, but also not really. It’s near but far, not yet but also with us at the same time. Felt but fleeting. Something that really opened my eyes was the idea that Jesus’ miracles are not violations of nature — something contrary to the natural laws we all observe and accept — but as signs of the in-breaking kingdom of God. That is, Jesus’ miracles were not exceptions but glimpses into what is truest about the world around us. German theologian Jurgen Moltmann had this say:

When Jesus expels demons and heals the sick, he is driving out off creation the powers of destruction, and is healing and restoring created beings who are hurt and sick. The lordship of God to which the healings witness, restores creation to health. Jesus’ healings are not supernatural miracles in a natural world. They are the only truly “natural thing in a world that is unnatural, demonized and wounded.

“Health”, in its various manifestations, is the objective. But this health is not just restored to us as created beings in a physical and/or emotional or mental capacity but extends to all of creation. Again, we tend not to take the time to consider the fullest implications of the fall and how it not only affected life as it was intended in the garden but continues to ripple throughout time and space to a point, as Romans 8 puts it, where all of creation is more or less held back. The totality of the events of the garden of Eden are as remarkable as the measures put in place to provide a path back to God through the chaos by His grace. Colossians points to Jesus as the very fabric of the universe, holding it all together. To this, commentator Michael Bird says that Jesus is the reason we have “cosmos and not chaos”. But there is also chaos, we would all agree, among us. I get it. “Reality” can hurt the head.

To bring us back to where we started: What are we inviting people into? Well, it’s among other things, cosmic. But it’s also local. It’s transcendent but it’s also personal. It’s difficult but also simple. I’ve been reading a lot of quantum physics lately and it occurs to me that in any intellectually honest pursuit you can choose an approach that is infinitely simple or infinitely complex, or perhaps both at the same time. But THAT’s what we are inviting people into. Jesus Himself says that His burden is light and His yoke is easy. But the depths of the beauty inherent in a real, vibrant, and dynamic relationship with Jesus represent an eternal and infinite dive into a beauty that cannot be measured nor contained by any language. 

So, no, it’s not proselytizing. An invitation into this kind of journey is not proselytizing. Mere conversions are too, I struggle with the right word — too much math? Too impersonal and maybe even academic? Too much me?  Too much debate? Too much partisanship or side-taking?

No, not proselytizing but love. But grace. But beauty. There’s just too much story to be told. 

Fly-Fishing, the New Year, and a Red Quill Spinner Fall

Christmas has come and gone even though “the season” has a few more days left before we roll the calendar over and begin anew. New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, for me, has been somewhat of an evolution. Early on I stayed with my grandparents while my mother was out. (It is, after all, an adult holiday.) That gave way to yet another excuse — as if one was needed — to be out with friends as long as the night would hold through my teens and even early twenties. Early in our marriage we mostly stayed in as I wrote New Year’s off as the most overrated of holidays. Since those years we’ve spent time with friends, family, or just stayed at home. I’ve made it a habit to journal each January 1 and for the most part get myself ready to take on another year.

Sometime in the last couple calendar turns, however, the new year has taken on a different tone. It’s become much more romantic for me. There’s admittedly something really special about saying goodbye to a year and welcoming a new one; the outgoing with its moments now canonized and the new so pregnant with possibility; the outgoing brittle with expired expectations and the new still so malleable and ready to ride.

Will I be a tourist or an explorer? Will I be a passive observer or a participant? These are the great questions as 2018 gives up its last ticks.

Last fall my wife Karen and I made good on a many-yeared promise to take a crack at fly-fishing during a trip to Colorado. It’s no secret that Agonistes loves the mountains and takes every opportunity to get out in the Colorado wilderness and explore the great American West. During this trip we planned to meet my oldest daughter and a friend for some hiking. We targeted Princeton, Oxford, and Belford. My daughter bagged all three but, alas, I retired after gaining the Princeton summit —my 20th. Instead of trying to keep up with her much younger legs and heart Karen and I opted to hire a guide and finally put on the waders, grab a rod, and take those first unsure steps into a new experience. The experience itself is for another post, but I will state for the record that, if it’s an option, hiring a guide for your first fly-fishing trip is absolutely the way to go. Basically, you learn the cast and the guide takes care of the rest — even the conversation.

“There’s admittedly something really special about saying goodbye to a year and welcoming a new one; the outgoing with its moments now canonized and the new so pregnant with possibility; the outgoing brittle with expired expectations and the new still so malleable and ready to ride.

The result is a fascination with this most meditative of sports. We’re already planning our next trip. I’m texting new friends and now Karen and I have our own fly rods. For Christmas one of my new fly-fishing friends sent me, unprompted, Death, Taxes, and Leaky Waders by John Gierach. Not only is this good short story/essay prose but it’s also helpful intel for understanding the nuances of the sport and making decisions about what to do and where to go next. This particular passage about a phenomenon referred to as “red quill spinner fall” and a fly fisherman’s favorite bug, the mayfly, had particular application for the New Year:

As pretty as the duns are, the spinners are even prettier. Their tails get longer and more graceful, their body colors brighten, and their wings get clear and sparkly. They’re lovely, and this seems appropriate to us, because now the bugs’ only chores in life are to mate and expire. Scientists call the whole group of mayflies Ephemeridae, from the same Latin that gave us “ephemeral,” or “lasting for a brief time; short-lived, transitory.” Even “tragic” if you want to stretch it. … Technically, this behavior is called semelparity, and it is described best by David Quammen in his wonderful book Natural Acts: “An animal or plant waits a very long time to breed only once does so with suicidal strenuosity, and then promptly dies. The act of sexual procreation proves to be ecstatically fatal, fatally ecstatic. And the rest of us are left merely to say: Wow.

Apart from the obvious things that might be pointed out here, I was struck with the idea of life’s high point. For the mayfly everything leads to that one and only encounter. Everything up to that point has only been preparation. My life coach asked me one time, What does it look like for you to show up to your life every day? This might be the most provocative question I’ve been asked. When I’ve referenced this to others it’s often been met with blank stares, but it isn’t  a difficult thing to visualize for me. In my mind the picture is me putting all my tools — whatever skills I’ve developed along with God-given attributes, my experiences, and relationships — in my bag each morning and knocking at the door of my day and my life, and what happens next.

Do I live with ecstasy? Certainly not to diminish the [obvious] merit of sexual ecstasy, but that’s not the question we’re asking here. Do I live with what Quammen refers to as “suicidal strenuosity”? That is, do I have the best kind of exhaustion at the end of every day? Our lives are not so different from the mayfly. Of course we have more than a single day to make our marks on the world, but it’s also true that all you’re guaranteed, if it may be put this way, is today.

And so it is with 2019. Will I be a tourist or an explorer? Will I be a passive observer or a participant? These are the great questions for us as 2018 gives up its final ticks. Wikipedia describes semelparous as “a single reproductive episode before death.” In our case it’s about knowing: knowing who we are, knowing where we are trying to go, and knowing that we’re on the clock. What we learn from the mayfly is the beauty and urgency of desperation. My friends, let’s be desperate. Here’s to the New Year. May we all step into the stream and make the most of it.

 

Asleep at the Wheel: The Emerging Gen X Parenting Crisis

As a member of Generation X in the purest sense, I realize that there are plenty of short-comings inherent in my generation. Yes, there are problems with any generalization. Even so, I think we all agree that generations tend to have things in common. For instance, I think Generation X has had to exercise a great deal of patience as a result of the most influential generation in American history, the Boomers, being just ahead of it. I think this “learned” patience has manifested itself in a solid work ethic, patience, and an ability to find recreation in the crevices and nuances of life. Generation X invented the extreme sports phenomenon. In a discussion with a group of Gen Xers I remember one friend saying, “We make the best movies.” If Gen X movies are not the best movies, something so subjective always in the path of debate, they can certainly claim a level of unprecedented creativity and cleverness. As a generation, Gen X has had to push out beyond comfort and the familiar to find itself and its place. And it has done so in areas of like technology and career.

As the first latch-key generation, a large contingency of Generation X parents — to their credit —made a solid vow to the nuclear family as a corrective. Admittedly, this has, at times, emerged in unhealthy ways. For instance, as great as team sports have been in providing a forum for families to “do life” together and instilling character, commitment, and goal-setting within our children, these commitments have perhaps been the greatest contributor to an eroding devotion to quiet, solitude, and family time we’ve seen over the last decades. Additionally, we gave the world a new term: helicopter parenting. Because of our own adolescent experiences, it seems we have over-corrected to the point of facilitating an extended adolescence, particularly in our young men. In my opinion these mistakes are of the most well-intended kinds. Even so, for years as I’ve watched our kids grow up I’ve thought to myself, “You know, we may not have it all figured out and probably won’t. But I think we’ve made great parents.”

That is, I thought that until just recently. In a doctor’s office waiting to be called into one of the smaller waiting rooms I picked up a magazine, flipped through it, and stopped at an article about nude photos of women — non-celebrity, people-you-meet-on-the-street-everyday women —being uploaded and shared to the public. The article addressed the emotional fall out, shame, and embarrassment of this. One of the women understandably changed her name while another quit her job and moved to a different city to pursue a different career. I understand all of this. But what was clearly missing, and the reason I was interested in the article, is the rationale for the pictures in the first place. No where was it addressed why these pictures existed. Not growing up in a world of digital photography, the existence of these photos lies just beyond my understanding of what is normal.

Later that day I shared this experience with my wife and 20-year-old daughter with the implicit question: Why do these photos exist? While I had a hard time understanding, my daughter showed no surprise. “Dad,” she said, “that’s actually a fairly normal part of the dating routine.” My expression urged her to expound. “At some point in the relationship, usually within the first 2-3 dates,” she continued, “the boy will ask for pictures like the ones you’re asking about.” What struck the deepest part of me, however, was the next part. “That’s why it’s so hard for [my sister and me] to find good guys.” Since then more information has come to light about adolescent use of pornography and a complete lack of modesty among those under 18.

When I was asked to contribute to a recent blog I knew immediately what I wanted to address. Friends, there is a crack in the foundation. There is a crisis emerging in our families, specifically, in our failure to be attentive to what’s going on in and round the lives of our children. Objectification, sexualization, abuse, fantasy. These trends don’t just affect boys and practical expressions of masculinity, but also the minds and hearts of our daughters. Somewhere along the line while we were espousing the merits of bacon, running adoptions to Africa and China, championing U2 and Bono, and inventing Facebook, during our watch pornography, gaming, and the fantasy industry found a way to capture the hearts and minds of our children.

I have research from sources like Life Health and Wellbeing, real comments from teens and young men in forums, Covenant Eyes, and Medical News Today that I’m uncomfortable sharing in this capacity. You may want to Google ADA (adolescent dating abuse) and PIED as starting points, particularly as each relates to adolescence. Each of these articles point to this alarming trend and consequences if allowed to continue unchecked.

Even though our kids are reaching into the late teens and early 20s and in many cases post-college mid-20s, the job isn’t done. And for those Gen Xers that still have children in the house I would encourage you to give a thorough inspection of what’s happening behind the scenes. I’ve seen research suggesting this demographic carries with it more stress than any other generation. This unusual level of stress might not be a result of having so much going on in terms of commitments and activities, it may be because they’re taking on too much on the emotional side of life; that they are disoriented. My fear is that there is a natural level of what we can emotionally manage at various stages of life and that natural level is being artificially inflated to an unmanageable level.

The short version is, as I told a friend recently, I think we’ve dropped the ball. Particularly troubling to me in this regard is that Gen X has taken parenting no less seriously than prior generations and I would contend even more seriously. On our watch, however, we are seeing these alarming trends of depression, abuse, loneliness, and pornography use that affect humans to the core. In terms of the appropriate reaction, I think the first step is to take an inventory.

• What’s important to you?
• What is the goal of your parenting?
• What is your role in the life of your son or daughter?
• Are you a leader in your child’s life or are you trying to be a friend?
• Are you willing to take on the hard decisions?

Like with a lot of life, these answers come as the result of sincerity and intention. We don’t drift toward the worthwhile things of life. These things demand something of us. Parenting is no different.

4 Stars for Mike Cosper’s “Recapturing Wonder”

Recapturing the Wonder is both timely and important. I picked it up for multiple reasons, but primarily because of what the title promises and what I know about its author, Mike Cosper. What Cosper has done here is for the most part take readers through something akin to the practice of the spiritual disciplines, yet with so much of a fresh touch. Quite different from the white-knuckled clinches of traditional approaches to the disciplines, Recapturing the Wonder paints a picture of a beautiful life lived within the will of God, a life moving “easy within the harness” as Robert Penn Warren wrote.

The reading experience moves from “Discovering Our Disenchantment” to an address of selfie sticks, spectacles, and sepulchers to thoughts on solitude before culminating with notions on our present ability to give attention to the important, weightier aspects of life and finally what he calls the monastery road. It’s important to note the balance Cosper takes in his handling of practices of solitude and community. While both are important, he does what I think is a great job in pointing out not only how we tend to get these both wrong in our current practice but how we can take measures toward a healthier practice of each. In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that I might have stood up and cheered when he took aim at that all-to-familiar icon of modern self worship — the selfie stick. According to Cosper, a self stick mentality creates and perpetuates a distance between our hearts and authenticity. It’s not the thing itself, mind you, but the attitude behind it. In a world smitten with self-image this is a good word. He concludes:

… it seems like somewhere between the superstitious world of supercharged neon crosses and the disenchanted world of selfie-takers, there is a way of being that allows for spiritual possibilities, for God’s presence, and for the possibility of sacred space.

Cosper’s language and message is both authoritative and profound, with brushes of the poet in places. If you’ll let it, this book will change the way you approach your faith — in the best, most subtle way. Equal parts corrective and exhorting, Agonistes recommends Recapturing the Wonder to those looking for a fresh start, those that might feel stuck or stagnant, or those looking for renewed inspiration in their lives and faith. I also recommend checking out Mike’s podcast Cultivated. 

North Carolina’s HB 2: Bruce Springsteen and the Philosophy of Progress

I grew up on Born in the USA. So many songs on that record really worked for me. It may be surprising that my favorite was actually “I’m on Fire” but there were many great songs from which to choose. Even so, I wasn’t a huge fan until I came into the adult years during which I learned to appreciate lyrics from tracks like “Human Touch”, “Jungleland” off the Born to Run record, and the entire Devils and Dust album. I absolutely love the way Springsteen captures and articulates the  human condition and spirit, not to mention the way he champions the common man. It’s a spirit he and I share. I love the way he sees the world and its inhabitants. For that matter, I love the way the more left-leaning of us see the world, too. Their perspective can at times create a much more inspiring place than what reality might otherwise suggest.

And so this brings us to Springsteen’s decision to cancel a recent Greensboro, NC concert as a way to protest the passing of North Carolina House Bill 2. I happen to support legislation like NC’s Public Facilities and Privacy Act not because I’m a conservative curmudgeon that is opposed to specific and inalienable rights as they may be defined, but because this bill would appear to be a corrective move toward recent legislation that has overreached on behalf of one group to encroach upon the rights of another group. In other words, in my opinion HB 2 and similar bills in Georgia and Tennessee represent a reaction to recent overcompensation — overcompensations, to some degree, that have admittedly prompted long overdue conversations over matters of sexuality and gender. But that’s not how such a law is portrayed in a world that runs screaming down the easiest path toward manufactured outrage. Nor in today’s world could it be.

For reference, here are a few pulled quotes from Bruce Springsteen’s official statement about the decision to cancel:

He cites HB 2 as a law that “… dictates which bathrooms transgender people are permitted to use. Just as important, the law also attacks the rights of LGBT citizens to sue when their human rights are violated in the workplace.” His use of the word “attacks” is unnecessarily strong, in my opinion. A proponent of the very same bill may say with integrity that it actually protects the rights of some.

“ …To my mind, it’s an attempt by people who cannot stand the progress our country has made in recognizing the human rights of all of our citizens to overturn that progress.” This is the part that grabbed my attention and will drive much of this post. I’ve had trouble truly understanding notions of progress in this context for a while now.

For the sake of context, below are a few questions and answers associated with North Carolina House Bill 2. This bill does not appear to be an attack on anybody. Rather, it returns some level of decision-making to businesses and private facilities on the issue of public restrooms:

Can private businesses, if they choose, continue to allow transgender individuals to use the bathroom, locker room or other facilities of the gender they identify with, or provide other accommodations? Yes. For instance, if a privately owned sporting facility wants to allow attendees of sporting events to use the restroom of their choice, or install unisex bathrooms, they can.

Can businesses and private facilities still offer reasonable accommodations for transgender people, like single occupancy bathrooms for instance? Yes. This bill allows and does nothing to prevent businesses, and public or private facilities, from providing single use bathrooms.

Does the new bill limit or prohibit private sector companies from adopting their own nondiscrimination policies or practices? No.

Does this bill mean transgender people will always have to use the restroom of the sex of their birth, even if they have undergone a sex change? No. This law simply says people must use the bathroom of the sex listed on their birth certificate. Anyone who has undergone a sex change can change their sex on their birth certificate, apparently, which is news to me. What this does do, however, is honor a person’s commitment as opposed to allowing him or her to choose a bathroom based on momentary affinity, desire, or other motivation. Better put, you can be whatever you want, but at some point you’ve got to land the plane. Seems fair to me.

Why did NC pass this law in the first place? The bill was passed after the Charlotte City Council voted to impose a regulation requiring business to allow a man into a woman’s restroom, shower, or locker room if they choose. This ordinance would have eliminated the basic expectations of privacy people have when using the rest room by allowing people to use the restroom of their choice. This local regulation brought up serious privacy concerns by parents, businesses, and others across the state, as well as safety concerns that this new local rule could be used by people who would take advantage of this to do harm to others.

I must say that I’m not bothered at all that Springsteen would cancel his show. And it doesn’t bother me at all that he may take a position contrary to mine. I appreciate diversity, honest dialog, conviction, and passion. I do, however, take issue with the notion of progress as it relates to this topic. Here’s the question that emerges from the Boss’ decision and subsequent statement for me: Is a transgendered person’s right to use the restroom of his or her choice an indication of progress?

To notions of progress. I recently stumbled onto I’ll Take My Stand as a part of a personal research project. I’ll Take My Stand is a collection of essays written by the Vanderbilt Agrarians in the late 1930s. Don’t be fooled by its dated-ness. The contributors of this collection included giants like Robert Penn Warren, John Crowe Ransom, and Allen Tate. These contributors and writers were confronted with very similar paradigms for progress as their more familiar agrarian way of life became much less commonplace. This transition necessitated that they, too, examine notions of progress and the appropriate responses to cultural winds. It prompted them to ask, So what is progress?

One of the essays, Lyle Lanier’s “The Philosophy of Progress,” begins by giving us a definition of the word itself. I love the way Lanier positions this for us: “Progress is both a slogan and a philosophy, a device for social control and a belief in the reality of a process of cosmic development toward some far-off divine event.” Thus references to progress and Lanier’s “far-off divine event” can be likened to Marx’s opiate of the people. That is, it pacifies us. It suggests that we give no more consideration to the subject at hand because change is progress and progress is good and who can be against that. By now we’re familiar with presidential hopefuls rallying us with promises of progress. We’re conditioned to understand progress as equal parts “future,” “favorable,” and “change.”

This essay also reminds us that “progress” is not the same as “change.” Just because we may experience the benefits of greater modernity, machinery, and technology, this doesn’t necessarily translate as actual progress. Referencing Wilhelm Windelband, Lanier claims that the problems of progress actually coincide with THE problem of civilization itself, which asks this question: “whether and [to what extent] … the change in human relations of human life has served to further man’s true happiness?” So, yes, there has been change, but the only indication of progress is to what extent we have developed what Windelband calls “true happiness.” Granted, this is a very subjective term. The context of the essay would suggest that “true happiness” is most notably attached to traditional social moorings. This sentiment is very closely associated with discipline and restraint as each relates to the drive for ever-increasing production and consumption and the “generally accelerated tempo of social change served to popularize the doctrine of progress.” Conceding to such a drive for technological and medical advancement may not be the best prescription for true happiness, though it does satisfy our growing need for immediate gratification. And, it must be noted, the accessibility of immediate gratification fits nicely with future favorable change. We’ve grown to expect both “more” and “easier.” Some refer to this as entitlement.

So here is what it comes down to: comfort. We all want to be comfortable. We hold it in the highest esteem. We strive for it. We seek it. We work for it and sacrifice for it. Even though Springsteen’s take on progress is manipulative, he is using a currency we have all bought into — wittingly or not. His definition and use of “progress” allows us to keep doing what we’re doing in the hopes of one day — be it retirement, the next job, the proverbial ship, a relationship, whatever — experiencing Lanier’s divine far-off event. The opposite of comfort, in this case, is to truly wrestle with the weightier matters of identity, purpose, and clemency. This forces us beyond the political conversation with its tidy categories into the messier areas of the soul. And it’s hard. Furthermore, to understand progress as the improvement of man’s material and social welfare, Lanier adds, is to lose a significant aspect of our essence. Life has to be about more than just getting what we want, yet this is the promise of Springsteen’s progress. Lanier puts it this way: “Man henceforth would be concerned not so much with saving his soul as with making himself comfortable.”

In his protest, what is Bruce Springsteen really doing. What is he communicating about his worldview and the potential for humanity to take on the noble struggle of identity and basic rights. Different from championing humanity, I think he has actually cheapened the human condition. For Springsteen this actually is about a concert and North Carolina House Bill 2. He actually believes that the well-being of these “freedom fighters” is at stake in the HB 2 decision and he mistakenly believes that the best thing that can happen is for everyone to get whatever they want. His goal is, in Lanier terms, simple social welfare. The truth is there are far greater things and ideas way beyond the typical understanding of “progress.” There is maturity in the hard “no.” The truth is that there are literal souls at stake.

Zero Dark Thirty: Drawing Lines Between Leadership and Influence

There is quite a bit written about leadership. Books, blogs, articles plus conferences, banquets, seminars. There are people that have careers predicated on teaching about leadership, cultivating leaders, and leadership theory. It’s funny when you get to the point in life when you pick up that business book and read the first few chapters only to realize, “Wait a minute. I’ve read this before.” There’s only so much that can be said about leadership and each generation probably has a new expression and a new voice. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with that.

So recently when I was watching Zero Dark Thirty for what must be the 100th time I noticed something: a distinction can be made between “leadership” and something I will call “influence.” For starters, leadership is generally assigned. It doesn’t mean this person doesn’t have influence, but the influence tends to be more embodied in the seat of the position instead of within the man or woman’s personhood — that is, who they are. One of my favorite writers talks about bringing the full “weight” of who you are. That’s influence. Watching Zero Dark Thirty we see that the principal character, Maya, and the person who drives close to 100% of the plot has no positional authority. She can’t tell others what to do even when it becomes clear that there are some plausible next steps. She can’t just snap an order or directive to make things happen. Is this right? I don’t know, but it happens every day in our firms, factories, and churches. Maya has to tap into something deeper. Something beyond job titles. She has to cultivate influence. Here are a few examples with some descriptions. I think there are some lessons for all of us here.

Give me the team I need.
Influence is passion. In fact, it’s 9 parts passion and 1 part everything else. In this scene Maya passionately lays the truth out on the table and in this scene we are left with no other conclusion beyond this: truth is a powerful tool. I’ve said before that a leader is only effective to the extent that she, or he, is afraid of losing her job. I love how Maya tells the station chief here that he can turn her loose to the job she’s been effectively “called” to do … or send her home. You might call this “selling out” to your mission, but in my life I’ve found that people respond to this kind of passion. In fact, we can’t help ourselves: we cannot be indifferent to passion at the highest levels. Ralph Waldo Emerson purportedly said that nothing great is ever done without enthusiasm. Passion is the first standard deviation of influence. Note: There may be offensive language in the clip below.

Count the Days
There’s a great line in Elizabethtown by Kirsten Dunst’s character Claire Colburn: “All forward motion is progress.” In Zero Dark Thirty, once Maya’s quest has found its end and next steps lay beyond her immediate control, she finds a way to exert influence through persistence. We’re led to believe that, every single morning, Maya writes the number of days that have passed without action in dry erase on the office window of the director. She will not be ignored. She is a constant reminder of both the stakes and the real story. Influence isn’t given. And it may not even be earned. More often than not, influence results from steadiness and advancing a given movement, idea, or project. Influence at times is only realized through brute force and will. That is, you stay on point. Maya literally moves a government with a dry erase marker. If all forward motion is progress, then every minute of every day matters.

Two Narratives
Tell your story, believe it, and keep telling it. More than ever, stories have become the language of our culture. We’re pre-wired to understand stories, understand the implication, and if they resonate with something within us, accept them as a part of our own personal narrative. Although she has no real positional authority, Maya becomes an influential force by never, ever turning away from an opportunity to tell her story. In this case it’s not only reminding people that Osama bin Laden is the objective, but how she’s going to get him. Most of us have two problems in this area: we don’t tell our stories enough or we don’t know our story well enough. To generate organizational influence you must know your story. Know your numbers. Know the facts. Know the narrative. Know the research. Connect the dots. A friend told me one time, “Want to know how you know when you’ve changed culture? You’ve changed culture when your values and objectives become a passing joke at the water fountain, that’s when you know.” Note: There may be offensive language in the clip below.

Know Your Objective
Influence and leadership tend to convene here to a degree. William of Ockam gave us what has come to be known as Ockam’s Razor. That is, we “cut” all the superfluous information that clouds our ability to see the essence of the problem or challenge. Of course, leaders must keep the objective in mind. It’s crucial to moving an organization. Quite different from keeping the objective in sight, however, influencers must obsess over the objective. An influencer lives and breathes the objective until it becomes who he is. You may call this “singleness of vision” or something like that. Influencers are not simply managers or delegators, they are engines. Engines need a direction or destination on which to exert their force. Storytelling is the vehicle of influence, but the objective is the fuel.

The last scene in Zero Dark Thirty is interesting in this respect. Once the objective is realized and the pursuit is over, what does an influencer do? For most of us, we move on. For Maya it’s not quite that simple. What’s overwhelmingly evident in this scene, though, is that she won. She put herself in motion and harnessed all the influence at her disposal to accomplish the task before her.

Maleficent: Story of Healing … or Corrective

In terms of review, Maleficent is a good—not great — movie. Jolie’s performance in particular is worth noting and I thought the special effects were actually utilized with some measure of restraint—a welcome respite these days. Although the story at times is disjointed, the overall impact is still somewhat powerful. Performances outside of Jolie are unable to match her intensity but I think the biggest downside to Maleficent is how it departs from the original 1959 version of Sleeping Beauty. The differences were noticeable and even jarring at times, but surprisingly I didn’t have a hard time getting past it.

I’ve been in several exchanges in which the general impression of Maleficent was underwhelming. I get that. It’s by no means a kid’s movie and it departs rather radically from what most consider “Disney.” But that’s actually what makes this movie work for me. For one thing, fairy tales are usually dark and it doesn’t require much to realize that many of Disney’s films include a villain that represents the worst kind of evil in the world. Scar is a murderer. Cruella De Ville is a puppy killer. (What can be worse than that?). Jafar is willing to leave Aladdin in an underground cavern to die a slow death. So Maleficent, in that respect, is true to the genre.

As the movie unfolds, however, a couple of surprising narrative threads come to light. First is the unexpected healing, redemptive journey that Maleficent is on. Her story begins in the Eden-like land of the Moors before heartbreak and betrayal of the highest order put her on a path toward the Maleficent we know from the original Disney feature. The revisionist twist here is that the title character is a victim. Moreover, she is a victim betrayed by love —specifically “true love’s kiss”— in an intense scene charged with sexual violation. Instead of giving in to the resulting pain that could easily usher in the well-worn path of destruction, this story offers an alternative redemption that progresses at a very believable pace. This a matter of identity. Trauma—particularly the trauma experienced by Maleficent— has the potential to send us spiraling into a false identity. We see Maleficent, however, recover her identity throughout the movie’s narrative. In short, it’s a story of healing and recovering something of what’s truer of about herself than what she has become. Maleficent’s path to healing and redemption became the primary story driver for me. That is, when I wasn’t wondering internally, “How are they going to pull this off?”

Second, and perhaps even more interesting, is Maleficent as a corrective heroine relative to the traditional Disney princess. Disney heroines have traditionally been portrayed a certain way. That is, she is beautiful but deprived; she possesses inner strength and resolve but needs help; her dreams require a rescuer; yes her dreams are realized but it requires a little ingenuity and a lot of patience. Beginning with 2009’s The Princess and the Frog this prototype began to change. Tiana has her own dreams and ambition. She doesn’t really need a prince. And she’s not only willing to do the work to create a desired outcome for herself but has already started the process when we are introduced to her.

Maleficent —while not a princess, still close as the apparent sovereign of the Moors — continues this course correction and probably turns it up a notch.  Not only is romantic love not at the heart of her transformation, but the prince, now king, is actually the antagonist. In the signature scene of the movie it is Stefan, the king, that is on his knees in complete deference to the female lead. But this Maleficent is is acting out of the trauma of betrayal, not the character she will become through her relationship with Aurora. The victim through the first third of the movie, Maleficent finds her heart and identity through relationship apart from romance —in defiance of romance in fact. This film, as others like it, show us that romantic love may not be the ultimate human experience—or at least not the most redemptive one. Suffice it to say, very different from my expectations going into this movie, Maleficent is very human.

I like the traditional Disney princess and all the happy endings. But I’m also not opposed to a bit of revision like what we’ve seen in the last 5-6 years. Cinderella and Belle are great but Maleficent and Tiana are even more complete characters and they also require a little more of us.