Will the “Real” Han Solo please stand up?

I was so upset that Han Solo sold out… (see previous post, “Confessions of a Star Wars Junkie”)

MY hero would never let himself be saddled by a woman; he would never become an upstanding member of the Rebel Alliance. Fortunately, I remembered this was war, and realized that stress must have simply made Han suffer from temporary insanity. After Return of The Jedi, I knew he took off with Chewbacca to soar the spaceways—to find his own path—romancing a new girl on very planet (or very large asteroid) they encountered. Occasionally he would bump into Leia—courting and bickering in equal portions—or he would race to Luke’s side, when the young Jedi was in trouble. Han stayed one step ahead of the bounty hunter (Jabba had friends, after all) and two steps ahead of responsibility.

What a cool guy… what a real man…

After seven years, and with no promise of future episodes back in the 80s, my interest in Star Wars began to wane. I moved on to more adult pursuits (like comic books and transforming robots) but the spirit of Han Solo remained. My heroes were those which embodied his spirit (don’t kid yourself…. Indiana Jones and Han Solo are the same person). At nineteen, I determined to live like that “noble pirate”, to slide through life dodging duty; and, just as Han had no use for the Force, I had little use for religion. I believed in God and the Bible stories, yet overlooked the need for Christ; I would make it my way, and no one would stop me. God would have to let me into heaven, because I would be too damned cool to go to Hell.

God’s Empire Strikes Back

In the cold void of space, then—somewhere between North Seattle and the spice mines of Kessel—I traveled a path of self-serving decadence. Another seven-year cycle followed; I formed an elite band of friends (pseudo-intellectuals and fellow rogues, all) and together we made merry; I left the spiritual warfare to others, claiming the morals of the good side without feeling the obligations of allegiance. Occasionally I would swoop down in my mental Millennium Falcon and unload my cargo-hold of Biblical knowledge, assisting a stumped brother or sister in blasting some non-believer’s self-refuting argument; my way of life, however did not reflect the level of love and commitment I defended. Left to my own devices, I probably ended up doing more harm than good.

Fortunately, God launched an assault that collapsed my little pirate’s existence. This foolish sinner had been frozen in the world’s carbonite, and it took the love and power of a pursuant savior to thaw me out. (My spiritual eyesight is getting better: instead of a big dark blur, I see a big light blur). Christ redeemed his prodigal, and this rogue joined the Alliance of Believers. He gave me love, a new home, and a suitable helper. So, despite my best efforts, my Han Solo “sold out”…. and I couldn’t have been happier. Domesticated by the transcendent Savior, I now desired to be a dutiful soldier.

But don’t think for a minute that I’ll ever like those cursed Ewoks.

Next post: Theology, FORCEd