Jesus Revolution and The Imperfection That Infects Us All
SPOILERS AHEAD: This movie was not at all what I expected.
I recently had a chance to catch Jesus Revolution on the big screen with a couple friends from church. My introduction to it was through a trailer preview ahead of Puss In Boots: The Last Wish, the coupling of which—a Christian feature film ahead of a Dreamworks animation—is rather a rare occurrence. And holding its own between the trailers for ‘Into The Spider-Verse 2’ and ‘Shazam: Fury of the Gods’, I knew the audience, both secular and religious alike, were in for something special. That trailer foretaste was my only preemptive homework on the film. I avoided the reviews and remarks of both Christian cynics and gushers prior to my own experience, and this is my unfiltered takeaway.
My initial deduction of Jesus Revolution's plot from that trailer was that it was some kind of Jesus Christ Superstar recreation. It featured Jonathan Roumie, the actor that plays Jesus in the Biblical TV series 'The Chosen'—the casting of whom was a sort of quality endorsement of Jesus Revolution, and 90% of why I gave the flick a shot. I also lazily concluded that Roumie was set to play yet another morally perfect character that echoed the unconditional, sacrificial love of Christ. The trailers didn't indicate otherwise. His long and parted hair, paired with a bushy beard, bore that iconic Jesus Christ resemblance. Slap a title with the name 'Jesus' in it and I was convinced it would be some meta interplay between the first-century Jerusalem and Newport Beach in the sixties.
Whether the movie was a box office hit or flop—and I'm happy to report that it is the former—I was determined to see it, and so off to the theater I went.
The movie opened with a Lionsgate logo, the mega studio that gave us John Wick, The Hunger Games, and an assortment of many more timeless blockbusters. For Christian audiences, the big name backing could hint at a watered-down film with some spirituality mixed in, or one explicit in its statement of faith, but without the budget to make that statement pretty.
I therefore warily nibbled on my popcorn as we made our way through the first act, where the mystery behind Jonathan Roumie's character was dispelled. Roumie was in fact Lonnie Frisbee, not Jesus (again). Frisbee was based on a real person—a hippie who converted to Christianity and devoted his time to spreading the gospel. He also acknowledged his physical Christlikeness, which Roumie emulated brilliantly. Lonnie is also credited as the spark that ignited the very real Jesus Revolution that gained traction in the early seventies—the embers of which we can still see today.
We are also introduced to a young male protagonist, whom I later discovered was Greg Laurie—a minister whose televised Harvest Crusades played an impactful role in my teenage Christian walk. At the realization that the young man's story on the screen would somehow tie into mine, I turned to my friend, wide eyed, and then refixed my gaze onto the screen with a more receptive face, ready to immerse myself into the story Jesus Revolution was trying to tell.
In no time, we were officially introduced to the three main players behind the Jesus movement—Lonnie Frisbee, Chuck Smith and Greg Laurie. Their lives intersect as Lonnie, the Jesus-Loving hippie, is dragged into Chuck Smith's house by Chuck's disenchanted daughter. Dragged isn’t the right word. Lonnie gladly commits himself to lodging at the Smiths' residence despite Chuck's initial protest. Greg Laurie then encounters Lonnie after a drug trip gone south, and eventually meets Chuck after Cathy, his love interest, invites him to attend one of the Jesus gatherings creating a buzz around town. As their serendipitous encounters transform each other, they also impact Southern California's hippie scene towards finding hope and purpose in Christ.
Chuck Smith, played by Kelsey Grammer, softens up and lets more of the Jesus hippies into his home, and eventually the church he pastors—Calvary Chapel. He gestures to the austere congregants that didn't take too kindly to mingling with sinners that these barefoot hippies were just as welcome as they were. Lonnie finds a home with Chuck, while Greg finds Christ after Lonnie shepherds him out of a lifestyle of hedonistic exploration. The redemptive arcs and miniature battles won almost felt too perfect, too fast, too beautiful… until Lonnie started to turn.
About halfway into the film, there was a scene where Lonnie Frisbee was preaching in a tent, where he receives a Word of Knowledge—a kind of spiritual inkling—about several people in the congregation who were in need of healing. This served as both a mark of anointing on his leadership and also the beginning of the end.
We then see this Christlike figure wrestle with his own self-importance, and for lack of a better analogy, squander the great responsibility that comes with great power. Lonnie starts to act in a way that asserts that the expansion of Chuck Smith's Calvary Chapel would not have happened without him. In an interview with Katherine Kuhlman, Lonnie claims to be one of God's prophets—a relatively tepid claim except for the circumstances surrounding his platforming and self-absorption. During that interview scene, the camera pans to Cathy and Greg who exchange a look of confusion after Lonnie's remarks—a minute gesture that marked the beginning of a healthy phase in Christian media; the ability to be self-critical without negating the veracity of our faith.
Lonnie's arc continues to spiral into imperfection as he struggles to hold on to the spotlight, faking moments of spiritual prompting, and subverting Chuck Smith's leadership in the process. His marriage, that earlier in the film was portrayed as unstained and eternal, eventually disintegrates, leading Lonnie and his wife, Connie, to abruptly abandon the Southern California Christian hippie commune for Florida. We do not hear from them for the rest of the film.
I loved this. Of course, I'm not gleeful at Lonnie's demise per se, as this is based on a real person's tragic life story that met an unfortunate end in 1993. What I appreciate, though, is the authentic peek into the human condition demonstrated by a figure that was so influential to thousands—even thousands across generations—whose love was sincere and grounded, but who was still humanly flawed. And yet both his flaws and victories are not mutually exclusive. That he stumbled does not take away from the fact that Lonnie was used mightily.
It was a peeling-back that didn't negate the sincerity of the conversions (or even healings) Lonnie oversaw. It was a revelation that upheld the crux of Christ's redemptive love—that even when our own ego stands to sabotage the move of the Spirit of life itself, that same Spirit will still operate through our broken vessels. That even the most Christlike prophet is still an earthen pot with the crack of sin running through him, but a pot that can still carry and administer the anointing oil of the Holy Spirit nonetheless.
Jesus Revolution was a revelation of the imperfection that infects us all.