Life Lessons from Les Miserables

It is no secret, I was already a Les Miserables fan before our pastor assigned the movie as a homework assignment for his next sermon.  I had seen it three times on the stage and then 7-8 more times on PBS when they aired the 10th and 25th anniversary productions.  The first time I was in the 12th row dead center at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Vancouver, where we were so close that we could see the spit coming out of the performers' mouths and smell the sweat of the students and soldiers after the revolt ended (okay maybe that was my imagination).

I had heard the best of Jean Valjean, Javert, Fantine, Eponine, Cosette, Marius (who can forget Nick Jonas) and the Thernardier's, and knew most of the songs by heart after listening to the soundtrack for more than 25 years. I had also seen two of the many movie productions of the book, had read the abridged version as a teen, and was in the process of reading Hugo's immense unabridged novel.

Yes, I was a fan and was nonetheless hesitant to pay $10 to see a bunch of Hollywood actors try to sing and act at the same time.  It seemed like it would be the worst of both worlds; sub-par vocals and passable acting - hardly worth my time when I had seen the best of the best. Boy, was I wrong . . .

Tom Hooper's movie brought the story to life in a way that I had not anticipated.  The movie was gritty and dark and rough; the emotions raw and believable.  True, the vocals were not performed at the caliber of Broadway actors, and at times the close-ups and frantic movement seemed to be too much.  But, never has the musical been performed with such emotion and realism. I was moved in a way that I had never experienced in my 25 years of being a Les Mis fan.

For me the Hooper interpretation brought out the darkness and desperation of the story in a way that perfect operatic voices in brightly colored costumes on a well-lit stage have never conveyed in the past.  The music was always moving, but there was always such a distance from the performers and it all felt so . . . . well, staged.

While some might disagree, Hugh Jackman was the standout performer of the film as he made the redemption and transformation of Jean Valjean come to life.  As he sang Valjean's Soliloquy, for the first time I really felt the amazement Jean Valjean experienced when he was treated as a human, not an animal; his shame when he realized how far he had fallen; his gratitude when he did not receive the penalty for his crime against Bishop Bienvenue.  My heart broke as he barely croaked out:

"One word from him and I'd be back,
beneath the lash upon the rack,
and yet he offers me my freedom,
I feel my shame inside me like a knife.
He told me that I have a soul, 
how does he know?
What spirit comes to move my life?
Is there another way to go?"

I can still picture the look in his eyes and hear the desperation of his cry. And while his vocal renditions of "Who Am I" and "Bring Him Home" don't quite compare to the careful control of Colm Wilkinson or Alfie Boe, they did convey the depth of emotion and wonder that Hugo artfully described.

It could be that the impact was heightened because of what we've been studying in our Discipleship Group - the basics of the Christian Faith - what it means to be a disciple and how to practically apply the truths of theology. We had just gotten through the chapters on sin, grace, and redemption.  I had been reminded - as every Christian needs to be reminded - that "we all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," and "it is by grace you have been saved," and "while we were yet sinners, Christ died." As these themes were fresh on my mind, it was easier to identify how Hugo's masterpiece communicated those truths - whether or not that was his intention - and how they clearly applied to me.

It is easy to believe that my sin is not as great as Valjean's, that my choices are not as devastating as Fantine's, and my desire to "do the right thing" is more purely motivated than Javert's. The truth is that I am no different than any of these characters. If my life story were made into a musical, it wouldn't be a pretty picture filled with lilting harmonies. I am broken, my relationship with God and others is broken, and my motivations are not always pure. I deserve punishment and yet God reaches down to show me grace in ways that go beyond Valjean's experience with the Christ-like Bishop.

Unlike Valjean, I don't need to look behind me at every step, wondering if my bad choices of the past will catch up with me.  As a Christian I am not pursued by the arm of justice, I am pursued by the God of love.  I am forgiven, redeemed, brought into right relationship by the blood of Christ that covers me. But often I forget that and try to make my way on my own.

Like Valjean, who could have admitted his need by asking for a piece of bread or silver rather than stealing them, I have to stop relying on myself and my own efforts. I am in daily need of God's grace to keep me from self-righteous independence.  The transformation that comes from relying on the Holy Spirit is deeper and more permanent than anything my own efforts can accomplish, and certainly more life-changing than the "good works" of Jean Valjean.

Back to Les Miserables - I could go on and on about the performance of Ann Hathaway, Russell Crowe, Samantha Barks, and others. Some of them were great, some just good, and some not so good. But the bottom line for me is that this version of Les Miserables actually made a profound impact on me - despite its imperfections.  Sometimes perfection gets in the way when trying to communicate the incredible truth of God's grace.

I haven’t posted anything in a while, so I thought today – New Year’s Day – would be a great time to get something up. So here goes . . .

Several months ago I had a "déjà vu smell" experience. It happened while I was at Brunch on the Beach at the home of Paula Thomas on Alki. As I stood in the kitchen surrounded by women of our church, the smell of the sea air wafting through the house caused a kaleidoscope of memories to replay in my mind – walking on Alki with my dad as a small child, getting caught in a rip-current at Ocean Shores while clam digging, a serious talk at Golden Gardens with my then boyfriend Tom before we got engaged, walking the beaches of San Juan Island with him on our 7th anniversary, and our last walk on Alki just months before his death in 1994. It only took a minute for the images and emotions of those life changing moments to pass through my mind, but it was a powerful whole being type of experience.

When I got home, I immediately sat down to document the experience while it was still fresh in my mind. The words just seemed to flow from my fingertips; the emotions and lessons learned from each shoreline walk brought smiles and tears. After more than two hours of writing and editing I was ready to publish the post. All I needed to do was insert a picture to make it look appealing.

Note to self . . . always write your blog posts in Word and save them before you actually start working in the blog program. That’s what I usually did, but that day I deviated and started writing directly in my blog. As I was trying to get the text to wrap properly around the picture, I mistakenly hit CTRL A (select all command) and the back button. That combination deleted all the content of the post. Before I could hit undo, I lost my internet connection and the blog program froze up. My heart sank; I knew I had lost it all. 

I tried for an hour to reconstruct the post, but the process of getting it out of my head and into black and white had literally sapped all the memories and insights from my mind. My creativity had been exhausted. As the deaf saying goes . . . train gone.

Maybe it was a sign that those writing efforts were for me alone. I needed to re-live the pain and joys of those events privately, and voice gratitude to God without an audience. Believe me the time was not wasted even though I had nothing to show for it. I am grateful that I cannot lose the memories and the sense of gratitude as easily as I lost my ponderings.

At this moment I can’t recall any of the "ah ha's" of that day, the only two things I can salvage are the verse Paula gave to us with a piece of beach glass, and the poem Tom wrote and inserted into a music box filled with beach glass and shells.


Music Box & Poem

Beachcombing
Though not the glorious vessels they once were – some destined for beauty and the aesthetic, others molded for service.
Though broken and worn by tumult of winds and wave, even the smallest piece becomes a “treasure” for those who are thoughtful and would take the time to look.

Ecclesiastes 2:11 – He has made everything beautiful in its time.

I am thankful for the opportunity my déjà vu smell experience gave me to reflect on God’s faithfulness and sovereignty in my life. I wouldn’t trade one moment of my life - even the moment I deleted my blog - for a life without the presence of God. He is working even in the small things of my life to make me all that he wants me to be. As Ecclesiastes 2:14 says, “I perceived that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it.”

True, so true . . .

All I Once Held Dear . . .

Yesterday, I finally had some time to sit down and write a bit. But then I didn't have time to post it. Rather than try to edit this to be more appropriate for today, I think it is best to just post what I wrote yesterday, Saturday morning, March 20th.

Today is the first day of Spring. Even though it is a bit chilly this morning, the sun is shining and the weathercasters are promising temperatures in the mid- to high 60’s. I look outside and see the flowers blooming and trees budding, and birds flitting among the branches. All of nature is coming back to life at once it seems; all of God’s creation except me. It has been a long time since I have met the wonder of any new season with such a lack of anticipation and overwhelming sadness.

Losing my husband progressively to AIDS over the last 5 ½ years of our marriage and becoming a widow at age 33, was at time such as this. At times I thought I would never make it through and joy would never come. But just in time God would bring me a moment where I clearly saw His good for me, could feel my heartbreak heal and hope for the future break through. It was like Spring coming after a long Winter of sadness, grief, anger, and loneliness.

In the last 15 years there have been other hard times in my life, but nothing like the events of the last six weeks. At a time when life should be bursting forth, for me the joy of life has died.

No need to go into all the details, except to say that my father died of lung cancer when we hoped he was going to be one of the success stories. Just as we thought he would be done with treatment and jump back into the life he loved, he was hospitalized with radiation pneumonitis and died within a week, on February 13th. The next day, when we should have been celebrating the love exhibited in my parents' marriage of nearly 50 years, we drew together as a family to begin mourning the loss of Dad’s presence. Over the next week, we were surrounded by loving family and friends, celebrating the life we had shared with him, and being comforted by the knowledge that Dad was with his Lord in heaven.

A couple of weeks after the memorial services, we began to settle into our new way of being family. We all found our niche to help my mom with the everyday responsibilities of life – bills, probate, house maintenance, social events and planning for the future – things that all brought back some sense of rhythm and purpose to our lives. Sure there were still sad moments, but we were functioning together as a family, working together to grieve and progress toward normalness.

Just as things were starting to calm down, another tragedy struck on St. Patrick’s Day. My parent’s adorable dog, Sadie - which my mom bought for Dad to help him in his recovery and was now helping her in her own grief – was struck by a car and killed. The most painful part was that it happened while the dog was in the care of my sister, as my mother was 80 miles away with me, meeting with an attorney to take care of estate business.

I cannot put words to the intense pain and sadness that has erupted and remained since the death of that little dog just three days ago. All of us are devastated – why did this have to happen at this time and in this particular way? The pain seems even greater than the pain I felt when my father died – it doesn’t make sense and seems so pointless. I think we all have begun to question the sovereignty God, perhaps even His goodness.

I am so grateful for Scripture and music at these times in my life. How do people function and find meaning without those resources? Rereading the story of Job, and verses from Lamentation 3, Isaiah 43 and 54, reminded me that when I feel that life is overwhelming, God is there. I am sure that none of the authors who penned these passages truly understood in their human minds or hearts what God was working in their lives as they were going through such awful times. But they all gained the understanding, through the work of the Holy Spirit, to believe that God would be true to his character – loving, compassionate, faithful, merciful, all-knowing, all-powerful, righteous and just – throughout their sufferings.

Then this morning, I was listening to worship songs on my I-Pod, when I was struck by the truth of Philippians 3:7, so beautifully expressed in a song by Graham Kendrick called Knowing You.

V1
All I once held dear, built my life upon,
all this world reveres and wars to own.
All I once thought gain I have counted loss,
spent and worthless now compared to this.

CHORUS
Knowing You, Jesus, knowing You,
There is no greater thing.
You’re my all, You’re the best,
You’re my joy, my righteousness,
And I love you Lord.

V2
Now my heart’s desire is to know You more,
to be found in You, and known as Yours.
To possess by faith what I could not earn,
all surpassing gift of righteousness.

V3
Oh to know the pow’r of Your risen life
and to know You in Your sufferings,
To become like You in Your death, my Lord,
So with You to live and never die.

All of this leads me to ask whether I really believe that knowing God and believing in the saving work of his son Jesus is the greatest and the best. Where does my joy really come from? Is experiencing pain just a part of experiencing true joy? Will I eventually see the events of the last six weeks as a means to greater joy and faith and righteousness?


Knowing my dad and being loved by him brought great joy to my life. Having little Sadie for the last 8-9 months brought joy to all of us, too. But no matter how much love and joy they brought, it is only temporary. How much greater joy should it be to know the God of the Universe who loves me unconditionally and who works so mightily in my life? He alone has been and will be with me all of my life, as I go through the suffering that is shaping me. It is hard to learn through experience and even more difficult to believe, but this is all part of the process of becoming Christ-like.