The Pursuit of Happyness and the United Methodist Church

I just read this "review of a review" of The Pursuit of Happyness on Chuck Colson's website (he didn't write it, not sure who did), and Annette and I are going to see it together in Jonesboro on Jan. 8! (Annette, I bolded the part about the UMC!)

Last night, I saw The Pursuit of Happyness. To some, the movie may be nothing more than a visual of Emerson's Self-Reliance. But those viewers would be missing the great significance of God's grace to the protagonist through Glide Memorial United Methodist Church. According to a review by Steve Beard, "Without Glide," said the real-life Chris Gardner, of whom the film is about, "there is no Chris Gardner."

But more than rags-to-riches, as Beard notes, Happyness is about the power of parenthood -- specifically in this story, fatherhood:

The intimacy and dependency of father and son is utterly captivating on screen. It is expressed poignantly in one scene during a church service at Glide. In the sway and potency of a gospel song, Gardner cathartically holds his son tightly as if to say, “Together, we are going to make it.”

In another scene, Gardner is forced to wash his son in a sink. In real life, they had been living on the street for more than a year. (There was a point when even prostitutes were giving him $5 bills because they admired his steadfastness with his child.) Things were just starting to turn around for them, but the situation had taken a toll on Gardner.

“I didn’t know whether I was going to quit, crack, or cry,” he recalled. “And I’m washing this baby—this two-year-old kid—and he picks up on this. And he says to me, ‘Papa, you know what? You’re a good papa.’ At two years old. That was all I needed to keep going forward.”

During that scene and others, you could hear sniffling (doubtless, from parents) throughout the theater. And I don't think it was due solely to colds. At least, it wasn't for me. Even mothers can relate to the tenacity of Gardner as a parent -- that strong desire and desperation to do everything and anything to provide the best possible life for your child. (It made me wonder, some 20 years later, where Gardner's son is today and how this film affects him.)

But I agree with Beard. This film is not about a stockbroker -- and how his work led to a multi-million dollar deal this year, according to closing credits. It's about a father who did everything, made every sacrifice, to provide for his son -- and how it was that, fatherhood, and not his job, that defined him.

..And home is not a place, as we see in Gardner's story as played in Pursuit of Happyness. Home is defined by relationships, and those relationships and how we interact in them are what defines us -- not the check we bring home or the business card in our wallet.

Colson's website also linked to this interview with Gardner (the guy Will plays) by Steve Beard:

Through tremendous financial strains, Chris Gardner’s marriage crumbled in the early 1980s and he was forced to juggle caring for his son two-year-old son and desperately attempt to make a living. Gardner and his son became homeless during this time and were turned away from shelters that only allowed single men or women with children. The two of them were even forced to sleep in the restroom of a subway station. Despite seemingly insurmountable obstacles, Gardner made sure that his son was safe at a day care center every day while he was training to become a stock broker, as well as attempting to sell medical equipment on the side to make sure that he and his son could eat.

They also found an oasis in Glide Memorial United Methodist Church in San Francisco and the homeless ministry of the Rev. Cecil Williams. As Gardner will point out, “Without Glide, there would be no Chris Gardner.”

Growing up without a father, Gardner had made a vow that he would be fully committed to his children. The Pursuit of Happyness (opening December 15, and yes, the spelling is intentional) is the true story of this commitment and difficult chapter in Gardner’s life. Gardner is played by Will Smith and his son is played by Smith’s real son, Jaden. Rated PG-13, the film contains brief profanity and thematic elements of motherly abandonment and homelessness.

Chris Gardner spoke with Thunderstruck creator Steve Beard and a group of journalists to discuss the film.

How do you explain your commitment to your son? I attribute that commitment to my child to growing up without a father and having a stepfather who was fond of reminding me of every opportunity he got, “I ain’t your daddy. You ain’t got no daddy.” There were a few other words thrown in there and I made a decision at five years old that when I had children, my children would know who their father was. And that no one would ever treat my child the way I was being treated.

How old were you at the point of the story in the movie? I was 28-29 years old.

Where is your son now? He unfortunately is still at my house. [Laughs] And he’s doing good, he’s doing great. He’s 25. And he’s decided he wants to be in the music business. He wants to be an A & R guy. And that involves internships. I’m at that point of parenting that I’ve had to say to my son, you know what? I’m probably hurting you more by trying to help you. So let me just get out of your way and go do your thing.

Did you ever get too close to your limit? I got very low, emotionally, at one point. After a year out on the streets, my son and I finally got a place to live and that was a major achievement. And I got home one night to find out that the local utility couldn’t wait another day to get that $18 I owed them, so they turned off the lights. And so, it happens. I had given my son a bath by candlelight. And this was when I was in my lowest emotionally. And I always think in terms of, I didn’t know whether I was going to quit, crack, or cry. And I’m washing this baby—this two-year-old kid—and he picks up on this. And he stands up in the bathtub and he says to me, “Papa, you know what? You’re a good papa.” At two years old. And that was all I needed. That was all I needed to keep going forward.

You were profiled on 20/20 back in 2003. How has your life changed since that episode? One of the things that it has done for me on a very, very personal level is I do a great deal of speaking engagements now. And one of the things I’ve learned—and it’s not about motivational speaking, it’s about sharing—is how much I get out of folks as I’m giving them. One of the things that I’ve learned that is so incredible to me is that men are in so much pain and we’re not allowed to talk about it. Every time I speak there’s a line of guys who shake hands and say hello. And there’s one guy who walks up, and all I gotta do is go like this [he opens his arms]. And he’ll fall in my arms and cry like a baby. One of the times it happened, the guy was the chief of police. He became the chief of police and he became a policeman because he said to me, “I could tell it was Friday because my mother’s nose was broken.” He became a cop just to work on domestic violence issues. And no one had really been open and talked about some of these things in public. And he’d been carrying all this around for 40 years. I mean, that’s not what men do… One of the hardest things in the world for a man to do—and this is just my opinion, I’m not a psychologist—is say, “Do you know what? That hurt me.” We can say, that pissed me off. I’m angry. But to say, “Wow, that hurt my feelings”—that’s not how we’re raised.

How did you know that you would be successful as a stock broker? The first day I walked into a Wall Street trading room, I knew that was the place. I was getting ready to watch this ballgame, and the announcer was talking about this game and all the money these ball players were getting ready to make. And I was about 15-16 years old. And I said, “Wow, they make a million dollars.” And my mom said to me, “You know, if you want, son, one day you can make a million dollars if you find the right venue.” It took me 15 years, but the day I walked into a Wall Street trading room, I knew, this is the place my mama was telling me about.

How much time do you spend at Glide Memorial United Methodist Church? I spend as much time at Glide as I can. And that’s been very challenging for me this last couple of years. I’ve turned into “virtual Chris.” I am everywhere, anywhere, and nowhere all at the same time. I love Glide. We’ve been a big supporter; we’ll continue to be a big supporter. The last two years I have lost 52 pounds. For every 10 pounds of body fat a guy loses, that’s one suit size. I’ve given away hundreds of suits, man. You’ll see some of the best-dressed homeless people comin’ out of Glide. One funny thing, man, when you lose weight, you also weight in your feet. So your shoes don’t fit. I remember being at Glide one day and this guy I saw, he was obviously homeless, and he was wearing these glorious suede Gucci loafers. And I had to say to him, “Wow those are nice shoes, man!” And he said, “Yeah, the Rev. gave them to me.” So Glide is a special place. Also, by the way, one of the premieres is going to be a fund-raiser for Glide. Sony and the producers were behind it.

The film does not make an issue of racism? Why is that? The biggest thing that I’ve had to deal with in getting into this business was placism—not racism. What do I mean by that? I had never gone to college. I was not from a politically-connected family. I had no money of my own. Who’s going to do business with you? That’s placism, that’s not racism. That could affect anybody in this room. And the issue is colorless. Placism is colorless. So that was the focus. Does racism exist? Yeah. Did it exist in ’81? Yeah. Have I had to deal with it? Yeah. But the biggest “ism” I had to deal with placism, not racism.

How would your life be different if you wouldn’t have made it as a stock broker? I knew going in that I was going to get one shot. That’s all I wanted, was one shot. And are you asking me could my life have been different? Do I think it could’ve been different? Yeah. But that’s what all I wanted, brother, was that one shot.

What would’ve happened had you missed that one shot? I don’t care! I didn’t miss! You know what? Had I missed, there wouldn’t be a movie!

Will Smith used the phrase “audacity of hope” to describe your story. Where does your audacity of hope come from? My mother. There’s this whole concept I’m trying to develop called “spiritual genetics.” I mean, we all understand genetics. You know, you get your mom’s eyes, your dad’s ears, there’s nothing you can do about it. But I believe that you can choose to embrace the spirit of who you’re going to be as a person. And I chose to embrace the spirit of my mother. And though she had too many of her own things denied, deferred, and destroyed. She still instilled in me, her child, that I could have dreams. And that I did have the responsibility and the power. So anything I’ve done in my life I attribute to my mom.

What’s it like to be a single black father in today’s society? It’s one of those things that you can almost take race out of the equation. I mentioned earlier about the sense of empowerment that I get when talking with other men around the country. And so many guys around the country are taking care of their children on their own for whatever reason. I mean, traditionally, obviously, it’s been more women. But when some of the guys come up and mention, you know, whatever happened, happened. But these are my kids. And I didn’t have a papa. But my kids are going to have one. And I gotta tell you, man, I’m encouraged by what I see of men trying to be there for their children. So many men have holes in their souls the shape of their fathers. You can pass it on to your kid, or you can do something about it. And I’m seeing a lot of men, period, doing something about it.

You have written a book by the same title as the film. How does it compare to the movie? Again, you’ve only got so many frames on a reel of film. In the book I talked about how important it was to hear the messages from Rev. Cecil Williams every Sunday—and sometimes throughout the week. And some of the small things that he would say to me would just stay in my mind. And one of the things that he said stays in mind and my heart to this day, and that is that baby steps count, too, as long as you’re going forward. Baby steps count too. And rolling my child through the streets of San Francisco in his stroller up the hills and down the hills and through the rain, I just kept saying to myself, baby steps count too.

What’s the difference between the 20/20 piece and the movie and how they represent you? I had to say that I’m very, very comfortable with both opportunities. And actually, it’s a blessing to be able to share. And I get so much from people—so many folks that have so much in common with me—that you’d be surprised. For instance, about 12 percent of all the homeless people in this country have jobs and go to work every day. That number in some communities is as high as 30 percent. The checkout clerks at some of these convenient stores, you’d have absolutely no idea. People live in cars with children. So there’s a commonality here that’s probably more prevalent than anyone realizes.

Describe it was like when you took Will Smith into the very restroom that you and your slept in? We went to the MacArthur Oakland subway restroom, where my son and I spent too much time. He wanted to go there. And I’ve been there. I don’t go back anymore often than I need to. I couldn’t stand it any longer. And I said to him, “Come on man, let’s go.” And he said, “Leave me here.” And we left him in there a good five minutes. And when he came out, he was not Will Smith, he was Chris Gardner.