I'm not a space ranger. I'm just a toy.

So, absurd though it may be, this is a blog, from Malawi, about Toy Story. Many exciting things have happened this week, but it’s all been on the same themes you’ve probably got bored of by now – 12 people in a 7 seater car, me trying to get a passport, God being awesome, me being tired and lonely, blah blah blah. (By the way, for some reason, Malawians find the phrase ‘Blah blah blah’ absolutely, side-splittingly hilarious! One of life’s intractable mysteries…)

Anyway, the only thing I can think of right now that I want to write about, is Toy Story. We watched it yesterday at this strange little forest lodge we’d all gone to for my mate’s birthday, and I found myself unexpectedly moved by this one bit.

Woody and Buzz are stuck in Sid’s bedroom, in mortal peril, and Woody is trapped under a tool box. He asks Buzz to help, but Buzz is too depressed…

BUZZ: You were right all along. I'm not a Space Ranger.  I'm just a toy. A stupid little insignificant toy.

WOODY: Whoa. Hey. Wait a minute. Being a toy is a lot better  than being a, a Space Ranger.

BUZZ: Yeah, right.

WOODY: No, it is. Look, over in that house is a kid who thinks you are the greatest, and it's not because you're a Space Ranger, pal. It's because you're a toy. You are his toy.

BUZZ: But why would Andy want me?

WOODY: Why would Andy want you? Look at you! You're a Buzz Lightyear! Any other toy would give up his moving parts just to be you. You've got wings! You glow in the dark! You talk! Your helmet does that-that-- that "whoosh" thing. You are a cool toy.

Now, I love this bit. I absolutely love it, because it’s true on a much deeper level than probably ever crossed the minds of the people who wrote it, although I like to hope that maybe they knew. It moved me, made me weirdly emotional and happy and soppy and all this, because what Woody says to Buzz in that scene is, as ridiculous as this may sound, something Jesus has taught me. I am the sort of person, I suppose if we’re honest like most people, who tends to care a lot about how good I am at life. How popular I am, how good I am at whatever I’m doing, school, or acting, or circus, or teaching, how good I am at being a boyfriend, how good I am at being a Christian. I get happy or sad based on my own performance, my own current level of awesomeness, my own space-ranger-ness. Or at least I used to – because things are gradually, gradually changing.

Because Jesus comes along and says – “Whoa. Hey. Wait a minute. Being a toy, is a lot better than being a Space Ranger.” He tells me that there is something way, way more important, more awesome, than being some amazing, successful person. He says, “Look, over in that house is a kid who thinks you are the greatest, and it's not because you're a Space Ranger, pal. It's because you're a toy. You are his toy.” He says, “the Creator, the glorious, ingenious, unfathomable, unstoppable God of the Universe is right here, and he thinks you are the greatest. And it’s not because you’re smart or popular or hard working or a good person, it’s because you’re a child. You are his child.” He tells me that I don’t need to worry when I don’t feel like I’m achieving anything of any worth, or when I pray and I don’t feel like I’m being spiritual or deep or loving God very well – the only thing that really, really matters, is that I am his son. “You are his toy.” And once I get that, I can hear compliments, I can be reminded of the things about me that make my Dad in heaven proud, that delight him, without those things becoming too important. Without being crushed by the pressure of needing to maintain and improve and add to my list of good things. No. My Dad loves me, just because he’s my Dad. And yes, I love making him happy, but even when I don’t, I know that will never, ever change. “There is nothing we can ever do to make God love us more. And there is nothing we can ever do to make Him love us less.”

Gotta love Toy Story.