This Is It

When the Michael Jackson documentary This Is It was showing in theatres, a friend asked if I wanted to see it. I was more than a little embarrassed to admit that I did. My friend is active in directing high school theatre, so she had a quasi-legitimate excuse for wanting to see the movie with all its behind-the-scenes production footage. I didn’t really have a good reason; I’m just one of the multitudes of people who couldn’t get enough of Michael Jackson’s Thriller when it came out on MTV. And, I’m probably more interested than I should be or care to admit about the lives of celebrities. But I’m glad we went. It was a good movie—fun and entertaining, full of life and energy and artistry. But it was also a sad and tragic movie, and it made me think.

My friend and I met at the local multiplex one afternoon, having told absolutely no one of our plans. The movie opened with brief interviews of dancers auditioning for the opportunity to be a part of Michael’s show. They talked about how much Michael Jackson had inspired them. One gave credit to Michael for everything he had accomplished as a dancer. Several choked back tears, overwhelmed by and in awe of the opportunity they had to audition to dance with the one who had inspired them. These interviews had been conducted with the dancers prior to their auditions, before Michael had died.

Once the footage of Michael singing and dancing began, my friend leaned over and whispered, “And suddenly, we’re back in the eighties.” We sang along to the soundtrack from our college years, mustering every ounce of self-control we could to keep from getting up and dancing in the aisles. Had our teenage children been with us, I’m fairly certain they would have reached a new pinnacle of embarrassment. Before long, my friend whispered to me again, “He doesn’t look like he’s on death’s doorstep. He looks ... happy?”

He did look happy. He was singing and dancing and he was having fun. And, he had surrounded himself with enormously talented singers, musicians, and dancers and was challenging them to do and be their best. It was astonishing, seeing the number of times Michael Jackson stopped musicians because, in his head, he heard the music moving a beat faster, or a note being held half a second longer. He critiqued and revised movements, staging, and arrangements all based on the masterpiece he could see and hear in his imagination. And, oh, how he could move.

Michael Jackson was doing what he was put here on this earth to do. And then he died. And it was tragic.

The word tragedy has been watered down to the point that it is used to refer to almost any sad or distressing event. In its most classic sense, however, tragedy refers to a drama in which a noble character possesses a particular weakness that leads to his downfall or even his death. The tragedy of Michael Jackson’s life was not that he was an extremely talented man who died much too young. Rather, the tragedy of Michael Jackson’s life was that, although he was doing what he was put on this earth to do, he was unable to find peace and joy and contentment in so doing. Michael Jackson looked for those things in bizarre and harmful places--places which often made him an object of ridicule and, ultimately, led to his death.

I wonder about those dancers who looked to Michael Jackson as their source of inspiration for everything they hoped to do and be. I wonder where they now find meaning for their life’s work.

I think about my life and wonder if I’m doing what God put me here on this earth to do and if I’m inspiring others to do the same. I hear the words of the ancient Westminster divines asking, “What is man’s chief end?” And the answer comes, “Man’s chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever.” This is it.

I will never glorify God through song and dance; I’m neither wired nor gifted in that way—ask my kids who roll their eyes whenever I even threaten to break out into my mommy dance. As I look for ways to use the gifts and talents I have been given, however, may God give me the grace to pursue excellence and to find His peace, His joy, and His contentment in this life and forever.