A recap of the Lockerbie Bombing of ’88 from Yahoo! news:

“in 1988, The explosion of a bomb hidden in the cargo hold of Pan Am Flight 103 over the Scottish town of Lockerbie killed all 259 people on the plane — most of them American — and 11 people on the ground. Abdel Baset Al-Megrahi, a former Libyan intelligence agent, is the only person convicted of the bombing.”

Two decades later, Scottish Justice Minister Kenny MacAskill announced last week that Scotland was releasing Al-Megrahi on grounds of compassion due to Al-Megrahi’s prostate cancer that doctors say leave him about 3 months left to live. From MacAskill:

MacAskill said his decision “was not based on political, economic or diplomatic considerations.”

“This was my decision and my decision alone,” he said. “I stand by it and I live with the consequences.”

Scotland has released 24 of the 31 prisoners who have asked to be released on compassionate grounds for medical reasons, including Al-Megrahi, in the last decade. That says to me that the Scottish possibly looked at the scenario and made a call based on health and the quality of human life as opposed to the severity of a crime.

Today on NPR’s Talk of the Nation, Neal Conan talked with pundits and the public both for and against MacAskill’s choice. (You can listen to that broadcast right here.) Our president, some very vocal family members of the victims of the tragedy, and most of the media world have criticized MacAskill and his decision. While they are few, there are still voices saying that they condone the move of forgivesness, included family members of victims.

What should the loving response as a Christian be to this dilemma?

There are a lot of pieces that add to the issue, such as the Libyans giving Al-Megrahi a heroes welcome upon his return as well as his unapologetic demeanor toward the incident, MacAskill’s rumored push out of office over the ordeal, and a protest planned in September in New York when Libyan leader Moammar Gadhafi will speak at the United Nations. Whether what is known thus far about Scotland and MacAskill’s intentions are the complete truth, or whether or not this was done for political or monetary gain is up for grabs and a bunny trail I won’t go down.

My question is only based on the reported information that MacAskill acted in compassion in pardoning Al-Megrahi. What interests me is the very public, outward act of love shown to a convicted terrorist. Whether well intentioned or not, what at a statement in to society.

Was justice served during Al-Megrahi’s 8 year service of a life sentence prison term? I don’t know. It’s doesn’t feel like it. From my limited view, it’s just another loop hole in an already corrupt judicial system that let someone off the hook for the price they were supposed to pay. But as a Christ follower, I know I’m not the judge. And I know my heart says that this man is a son and a friend to someone. How can I make sense of it?

From Matthew 18:

21Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?”
22Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.

What does forgiveness without limits look like? Complete mercy and grace is hard to fathom in every circumstance, and is certainly a gesture we all lack. Do we take Christ’s words and ask where to draw a line in the sand? Is forgiveness meant only for the repentant? Is forgiveness only reserved for smaller crimes and white lies?

I’m not in the shoes of the Mothers/Brothers/Wives who lost their Daughters/Sisters/Husbands on the Pan Am Flight 103. I have not felt the lack of compassion that some of the families of the 270 who lost their lives have felt. There pain must be great.

I do know that hatred can swell and bloat inside of you, leaving no room for healing and growth. I do know that Christ’s love comes without an asterisk or a condition. And I do know that wisdom and discernment don’t come without battling through the tough questions like this one.

- Grand Rapids has this tight knit family of production crew. Orlando was tight because of the Full Sail connections. Grand Rapids is tight because of a passion. Money is probably involved too. But not with the men and women I’ve met. So solid.

- Marriage is the best.

- I am surrounded by inspiration and visual melody. The camera will be clicking this week.

- I’m not sure what the next year holds, but the hands of time never lets loose it’s grip. It’s gonna hold something, and I’m gonna walk through it.

“…Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers, your sons and your daughters, your wives and your homes.”
– Nehemiah 4:14

I surrender this week to the hope of many weeks spent together walking through countryside and scenery, praying over our lives, laughing in unison about human nature and awkward situations, and thousands of miles through countries and cities of old.

It’s hard not to pass on the days beforehand and just fast forward to the wedding. How I often I forget the value of every second of time. I can’t let time slip through my fingers any faster than it already is.

Everyday there is
a chance
a message
an experience
a piece of knowledge
a decision
a moment
a choice
a death
a lose
a sacrifice
a birth
a win
reconciliation
forgiveness
restoration
redemption

“‘Cause time has a mind of its own,
like our sun spinning around.
It wont slow for you now.”
– “Pirate Blues” – As Cities Burn

His hands, which could be mistaken for boulders, are tucked snuggly into velvet pants pockets that are too small for wrecking balls that size. His legs are a paradox. One foot is firmly established on the pavement like a bulldozer with the foot crank down for the night. The other tree trunk root with a shoe is doing an awkward kind of pirouette; toes pointing down, as if having both feet flat on Earth would bring on the sort of gravity that holds monuments motionless on city square corners. He’s leaning against a wall, and daring it to hold him up. The bricks that make it couldn’t fold and collapse into a heap even if they wanted to. The side of that building is scared of him too.

He watches me. I don’t look up. I don’t want to think about it. I’m just going to finish eating, pay for my meal, and walk away knowing full well I’ll be followed for the rest of the day. I wonder if walking up the stairs to the 3rd floor of the Days Inn and doing a junior high caliber hurdle over the hand crafted maple railing will fracture, rupture and corkscrew my legs enough for the Hitman to consider it fitting retribution. At least then I would be in control.

I try to conjure up the feelings of people in more difficult positions than I, and what they would find to be a good day.

I think of a soldier in a foreign land in battle for the sake of their home soil. Maybe a good day for them is having traveled a great distance, found out how they have a lot in common with the men around them, and nobody died on either side of the fight.

I think of a farmer who plows his fields and hand sows his acres. Maybe a good day for him is when he look’s at his broken hands, sits ragged on his back porch steps, and surveys the land that he has filled with the beginnings of life for plants and for other humans.

I want strength and appreciation like they have.

I don’t think I’ve seen true strength in myself like that yet. And it’s easy to be thankful on the good days. But that won’t ruin it. Especially as I stand below a magnificent sky that’s garnishing this small conquest.

An opus of violet pianos and amber clarinets swirl in the atmosphere while a sapphire mallet strikes softly on a cherry tympani. The chroma mixes and the gradients go deep and wide, like Kool-Aid being mixing in a pitcher. Each particle is dancing, blending in nautilus-like shapes.

The iridescent air up there is amazing, I bet. If I fell out of an airplane 20,000 leagues above the sea, would I be able to enjoy at least one millisecond of being up there where the colors get along so well? Would it help knowing it would be the closest I could get to living around it?

The Sun will be down, soon. The color will fade. Tomorrow’s finale might bring new celebration. Or it might storm for 50 straight years. I sure liked today’s, though.

Love is not reinforced on the daisy fields. Strength doesn’t coincide with financial comfort. Faith is not fortified on the calm, cloudless days.

Let’s see what I’m made of.

19-21I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness,
the taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed.
I remember it all—oh, how well I remember—
the feeling of hitting the bottom.
But there’s one other thing I remember,
and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:

22-24God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,
his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.
They’re created new every morning.
How great your faithfulness!
I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over).
He’s all I’ve got left.

25-27God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits,
to the woman who diligently seeks.
It’s a good thing to quietly hope,
quietly hope for help from God.
It’s a good thing when you’re young
to stick it out through the hard times.

28-30When life is heavy and hard to take,
go off by yourself. Enter the silence.
Bow in prayer. Don’t ask questions:
Wait for hope to appear.
Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face.
The “worst” is never the worst.

31-33Why? Because the Master won’t ever
walk out and fail to return.
If he works severely, he also works tenderly.
His stockpiles of loyal love are immense.
- Lamentations 3

I deserve it
I’ve earned it
from the blood pouring from My toes
stubbed and swollen from the pacing
from the sweat dripping out of every overheated pore
exhausted from My tirades and tantrums
I am worthy
I am justified
I want the claim I’ve staked
I want what I’m warranted

I don’t speak those words often
because then you wouldn’t like me
but they dwell in the coarse, dried mortar
that holds together my pride brick by brick
they occupy the atoms and the molecules
that when added up
make the bones and the skin and the organs and the muscles
of land my spirit is squatting on

“The spirit is willing, but the body is weak”

My body has control over My every move
It feels the pain
It has the urges
It’s hunger is barely controllable
Which is the weaker one again?

Because you always tell me never to give up the dream
even though you gave yours up to raise a family
but maybe that was your dream

And you’ve never said anything coarse about my mother
not even a joke around the boys
even though your one of the funniest guys I’ve ever met
the women in your life are sacred and porcelain

A gentle giant to say the least
all six feet seven inches of you
you were made that way because your heart couldn’t possibly fit
inside a bodily infrastructure any smaller

To a man who has had dozens of jobs
and have been good at every one of them
you fix everything
electrical, carpentry, mechanical,
philosophical, societal, communal,
emotional, hopeless, faithless
you fix everything

I wish I could explain you to people who’ve never known you
I wish I could write something about you that flowed coherently
but there are so many things to touch on that it’s hard to put honor to it in writing

Your name mentioned in the county you’ve lived in most of your life
evokes half cantaloupe smiles and warm stories of
life and love and how the two of them are the same to you

I’ve witnessed the darkest of hearts proclaim you wiser than any priest they’ve ever known
I’ve seen ball players and seasoned musicians who have more awards and honors
but don’t even come close to touching the things your accomplished.
I have not met a man I want to be more like than you.

I hope I can give your name honor in the years to come
I hope I can raise the stakes in my life and take a gamble on love like you do every day
I hope I can leave this earth having made it a better place like you have.
I love you, Dad.

Article One – “Say it Again”

Amazing show. Definitely one of the better final products working on my own.

If nothing else, check out the ridiculous Violin solo by Matt Piche in the first 30 seconds.

As usual, clicking on the “Personal Projects” Category link or searching “Video Post” in my tags will take you to previously posted videos (with a little behind the scenes information.) You can also take a mouse cursor drag over to the right column to find a direct link to my Vimeo.

Drew and Amber by Brent Christy

Upon looking at my editing repertoire, I realized that I lean towards a brash, fierce editing style. I like hard cuts and billowing music. I wanted to change things up a little bit on this project, and Drew and Amber were there perfect couple to try it with. I think it was a good project to diversity my portfolio.

I made the a real good edit one of these days.

As usual, clicking on the “Personal Projects” Category link or searching “Video Post” in my tags will take you to previously posted videos (with a little behind the scenes information.) You can also take a mouse cursor drag over to the right column to find a direct link to my Vimeo.