
Twenty-two years ago, something extraordinary happened in American movie theaters.
Across the country, audiences sat in near silence as the final hours of the Lord’s life unfolded before them. There were no superheroes, no elaborate special effects, and no English dialogue. Instead, we watched a brutally realistic depiction of a scourged and bleeding man carrying a cross through the streets of Jerusalem toward His execution.
Every person watching the film also carries a reality we prefer not to contemplate: With every passing day, we move closer to our own death and our own face-to-face encounter with the living God.
I saw “The Passion of the Christ” four times on the big screen — and I was hardly alone in going back more than once. Each viewing was emotionally
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