Martian Child: thoughts on knowledge and belonging

Last night I watched the movie Martian Child. It was really a great evening. After a long day down in El Cajon at Boomers with our Jr. High Youth Group, Amanda and I had some friends over for a feast. We ate chicken tacos with fresh guacamole, homemade french fries (one of my new specialties), Zucchini from the frying pan, Caesar salad, re-fried beans, nachos, jalapeno carrots, and those snicker-doodle cookies for dessert. We feasted and then watched Martian Child.
It's about a famous science fiction author whose wife has recently passed away. After grieving her death, he decides to adopt a child. Going back and forth in his mind about the decision, he finally ends up adopting a very peculiar boy. The boy is afraid of the sun, wears tons of sunblock, is very intellectually advanced, and believes that he's from Mars. He even wears a weight belt to keep him adjusted to Earth's gravitational pull. He has trouble identifying with peers, he keeps getting in trouble at school, and he's so convinced he's from Mars that he even starts to make the audience wonder. As his new adopted father learns more about him, grows closer to him, and falls in love with him the relationship challenges all their assumptions and all their presuppositions about life. The boy who doesn't even think he's from the same planet starts to feel wanted. The man who had a lot going for him and seemed pretty sure about where his future was headed began to wonder about his own ideas and plans. The relationship, as uncertain and convoluted as it was, changed them both. And as everything was turned upside down for both of them, they felt more and more at home, they felt like they belonged.
In the midst of chaos, we really want harmony. When it's hard to tell which way's up, we want to be able to belong to someone. This kind of belonging, this sort of clarity, is counter-intellectual--trans-intellectual even. It happens in the heart.
When we seek the kind of knowledge that's rigidly intellectual, black-and-white, and distinct we are often drawn further from others. We look for a few words and if someone can't affirm them then we are drawn apart... but at least we know where we stand. The kind of knowledge that comes within uncertainty, this sort of gray knowledge, the knowledge that makes us belong draws us closer to others. It makes us capable of love.
Comments
Thanks for the comment Cammie!