Tonight my Dad and I went to see Dunkirk in theaters. I’d been giddily anticipating its release since I first heard of its making, and since my favorite movies are war movies, I also anticipated that I’d be able to handle it.
I vastly overestimated myself and drastically underestimated how tense I would be for the whole movie. “Zimmer has done it again”, my Daddy whispered under his breath. My good friend sitting next to me laughed as he said: “Never let it be said a soundtrack doesn’t do anything!”. Thanks, Christopher Nolan, for pushing every “feeling” button I had.
The whole movie, you never get a break: you’re in the air, you’re on a ship, you’re surrounded by fire in the oil slick sea, you’re on the beach being picked off by fighter planes, you’re the captains with worry in their eyes, you’re the desperate soldier waiting for a boat, for anything really, to be rescued.
It’s gripping and devastating and with every minute you wonder if you’re still breathing.
Hans Zimmer put a clock into the soundtrack, a deadly undertone hum that instantly speeds up your heart rate and never lets you go in its intensity except for two times: once in the next to final moment when they are safe, and the one that no one will forget….
The “victory” moment.
You’ve been listening to roughly an hour and 20 minutes of never-ending, pounding, heart throbbing ticking and watching devastatingly raw footage, and the on-edge string ensemble continues to build and build and scrape and scrape…..at this point you’ve actually started to get upset at yourself for thinking that this movie was going to end happily. Everyone’s dying and so are you.
And then the captain on the pier sees something, and you can instantly tell he’s seen something he thought he’d never see. He asks for binoculars and his second in command asks tenuously: “What is it?” The Captain lowers the binoculars with tears in his eyes and says simply: “Home.”.
You see the fleet of civilian ships coming in. And the music that has been grating and grinding and scraping and building and tearing you into pieces shifts into the most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard. You could feel joy melt into that theater room.
Obviously, I began crying. But not because the ships were coming in. Not because they were rescued. Not because a movie had stirred me or hit me in all the feelings yet again.
In the stunning moment that the Captain saw the ships and said the word “Home”, my heart immediately replied “HOPE”, and as the music shifted from raw pain to astounding beauty, my heart instantly sang: “JESUS.”
“Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. This is you in my night of grief. This is You in all my pain. This is You in every ache of my heart. This is You in my agony. You are my Hope. You are so intensely beautiful and You are my song in the night.”
My Hope in the night. My Hope in my pain. My Hope in my distress. My Hope in my grief.
My Hope in my loss. My Hope in the fiery sea. My Hope amidst despair. My Hope always.
My Hope now and forever.
The music lifted, swirled and I swear everyone in the theater let out a deep, relieved, too-moved-to-be-cheery sigh and began breathing at the word: “HOME”.
and tears streamed down my face: JESUS.
Jesus, standing on the shore, calling me in from the stormy sea. Jesus, holding my hand on the rough waters. Jesus, pulling my gaze from the thousands of miles between me and someone I love. Jesus, reminding me I can trust Him with anything, even this. Jesus, holding me tight against His heart and never letting me go.
Jesus, the One in Whom Hope will never die, even when all seems so desperately lost.
The dark night may stretch for hours to months and on to years, but there is hope, there is a light, look up, there He is….parting the waves so the redeemed can cross over.
Emmanuel, God with us.
Home and Hope.
“You answer us with awesome and righteous deeds, God our Savior,
the HOPE of all the ends of the earth and of the farthest seas,
Who formed the mountains by Your power, having armed yourself with strength,
Who stilled the roaring of the seas, the roaring of their waves,
and the turmoil of the nations.
The whole earth is filled with awe at Your wonders;
where morning dawns, where evening fades, You call forth songs of joy.”
– Psalm 65: 5-8