Perhaps the best animated film every made. Won two Oscars. You’ve seen it.
OH, SOMETHING YOU SHOULD KNOW: Zazu never finishes the “I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts” song (Don’t pretend that hasn’t aggravated you for 20 years, too).
So I had the opportunity to give my son his baby blessing today at church. While it wasn’t a perfect experience (I got whacked in the face with a microphone…three times…and the microphone didn’t even work) I still was able to bless my son with the power and authority from God.
For weeks (and in some ways, years) I’ve thought about what I’d say in the blessing. Much of what I thought was said, but much was left out as I tried my best to let the Spirit direct my words.
I’m sure I won’t remember everything I said, but I won’t forget the feeling I had then — and at random moments since my son was born — that he came to us directly from a godly kind of sphere, and he was sent to do great things. Not great in the sense that he would necessarily be famous, but great in the sense that he would be given the gifts to do great things if he chose to do so.
That’s sort of what the Lion King is about: choosing. Choosing to become someone others can depend on, and not just someone who lives only for themselves. This is why Simba had to go back, and this is why real men choose to stop roaming around with “no worries” — hakuna matata.
Real men accept responsibility. Real men don’t avoid getting married or raising a family. Live-in boyfriends and men who qualify only for the title “my baby’s daddy” are nothing more than self-centered cowards who want the benefits of marriage without putting in the time or commitment. Men like these have forgotten who they are and have rejected the opportunity to preside, provide, and protect.
The lion in this movie was meant to watch over others as king, but he had to choose to live up to that calling. Through me, God gave a blessing to my son today, but those blessings depend upon him quietly and consistently making righteous choices that will lead him to his purpose.
Still, while I can’t control what my son will become, I can teach him what he can become and make sure he knows there is always a way back.
This is where Mufasa’s famous words to Simba come in:
You have forgotten who you are and so have forgotten me. Look inside yourself…you are more than what you have become…remember who you are.