This post, just to give you fair warning, will begin as a movie review and then wander off into byways of personal reminiscence. Because I’m old enough now to comment on historical films from a survivor’s perspective.

First of all, I think it’s well-established by now that The Jesus Revolution is a pretty good movie. I was looking for something to watch on Sunday afternoon, and it popped up on Amazon Prime. I put it on partly out of a sense of duty; I anticipated that it might rouse bittersweet memories (which it did). I intended to use it as background white noise while I did something else, but it compelled my attention.

Many of you have already seen it, so you understand. I’m still surprised to be impressed with Christian movies – I grew up on Billy Graham’s World Wide Pictures, which were heartfelt but ham-handed. This is cinema on an entirely different level. Kelsey Grammer does an admirable job as Pastor Chuck Smith, whose struggling congregation is suddenly invaded by an influx of hippie inquirers, led by Lonnie Frisbee (Jonathan Roumie), and suddenly they’re in the midst of a Movement. Meanwhile, we follow the life of Greg Laurie (Joel Courtney), child of a dysfunctional home, who tries to find himself in drugs, rock ‘n roll, and rebellion, but nearly crashes and burns before finding his way to Smith’s and Frisbee’s church (and to love and marriage as well).

The movie is excellently cast, effectively written, and a provides a pretty good evocation of the place and time. I myself was far from the center of things, back here in Iowa and Minnesota then, but my friends and I were part of the movement, and the songs (as well as the jargon) were very familiar.

And pretty emotional, for me. So many memories. Especially of people, some of whom were the closest friends I’ll probably ever have – many of whom are no longer friends at all. Small but intense adventures with those friends. Moments of delight and victory… and of disappointment.

The end of the movie describes the Jesus Movement as perhaps the largest Christian revival this country ever saw. And yet – as I see it – it left almost no footprint in the culture, except for the creation of a couple new denominations (as if we didn’t have enough of those).

From my perspective, the great tragedy of the Jesus Movement is that, out of so many converts, so few persisted. When I got into the Science Fiction/Fantasy world back before the turn of the century, it depressed me to note what a large percentage of SF writers seemed to be embittered former Jesus Freaks. I ran into them everywhere (or so it seemed), people who’d “tried that whole Jesus thing,” but found it ultimately unsatisfying. (A lot of people, I think, claimed to believe just to go along with the fad. Many of the others were poorly discipled, or fell into the clutches of spiritual wolves, of which there were many.)

The upshot of it all is that when I think of the Jesus Movement, I end up depressed.

Secondly, there was the issue of music. A large part of the story deals with Pastor Smith’s efforts to provide a worship environment welcoming to the young people. I myself was part of a group that performed contemporary Christian songs (many of which we wrote ourselves) in churches. We got some opposition from old fuddy-duddies in the congregations, which I didn’t understand at the time. I understand now. I swear I never had any intention of killing off traditional worship, but that seems to be what the long-term result was, at least in my church. The congregation I attend began a contemporary service in the wake of the Jesus Movement, and conservative members were assured that nothing would happen to the traditional service. This year, they abolished the traditional service. And the contemporary service into which we’re all now shoehorned (called a blended service because it includes a couple hymns) affects me like fingernails on a chalkboard. I know it means something to those who like it (and they are many), but I find it raucous and irreverent.

Then – just to top off the memories – I got a text message while I was watching the movie. An old friend from those days informed me that another friend, my roommate for two years, had died in a mental institution in California.

Poor B*****. I don’t blame the Jesus Movement for his initial slight craziness. He was a little crazy before he became a Christian, as I can testify from personal observation. And he was not among those who turned their backs on Jesus. He followed Him faithfully, according to his own lights – he became a Russian Orthodox monk. Nor do I blame his final descent into madness on the Jesus Freaks – as I understand it, it probably had an organic cause.

But it seemed to me he was an emblem of those times and those people, fading away into history, in a degenerated California, his legacy known only to God.