Originally published as a featured article for Doorway Publishing

The audience in the crowded theater went wild. I will never forget it, the first time I saw Superman: The Movie it captured my young imagination like nothing else. I was a twelve-year-old boy when my dad took me to an urban movie theater near Downtown Cleveland to watch Christopher Reeves soar across the silver screen as the Man of Steel. I sat in my theater seat amazed as a bigger-than-life hero saved the world and got the girl. Everyone cheered each heroic feat, and when Lex Luther and his entourage were caught there was unanimous satisfaction when the credits rolled at the end. And of course, John William’s triumphant theme song always inspires.

There really is something magical about how a movie made well can move the heart and capture the imagination.

Well, I was moved. Superman became a hero I wanted to aspire to. He was both kind and strong. Fighting for the good while believing in the goodwill of people — I wanted to be just like him. I was so impressed by the movie that I had my dad take me a few more times with my sisters and then my good friend Matt McDonough. Superman could do no wrong. Like every young kid who chooses which superhero to believe in and follow, Superman became my pick. 

Fast forward five years later when Superman III came out at the theater. I had to go see it. It was clearly obvious that the movie was not as well made as the first two Superman movies, but it had a much bigger impact on me than the other two did. And the reason was because I saw a side of Superman that horrified me. After being subjected to some Red Kryptonite, Superman’s personality was completely altered. No longer was he the mild-mannered hero, but he became a self-absorbed villain. No longer did he want to save the people of Metropolis, but rather he started acting out on his feelings and emotions like a childish adolescent, and for me, it was a heartbreaking thing to watch. 

At one point in the movie Superman goes on a drinking binge at a small bar in Metropolis and starts flicking peanuts at the whiskey bottles behind the counter. Still possessing his super strength, the peanuts flicked by his index finger become more powerful than bullets shot out of a gun and the bottles exploded in white puffs of pulverized glass. As I watched the movie I thought to myself, “If he wanted to, he could destroy the world and no one could stop him. No one was safe now.” I knew it was only a movie, but in that moment I felt betrayed and vulnerable. I don’t quite know how to explain it, but my hero lost his halo, my idol was smashed like the whiskey bottles behind the bar.

I can hear some of you right now, “Chris, it is just a movie. A make-believe comic book. Chill out!” I understand that, but there is something about the power of a good story that bleeds value into everyday life. I longed for a hero, someone to look up to. Even if it was through a silly story, Superman’s character embodied an ethic, a value of goodness that the world needs to see. Unassailable goodness is something I need to see. We all want someone to save the day. And if Superman could turn bad by touching one silly red rock, and I mean he turned really bad, that meant down in the core of his being something was wrong — the essence of his character was flawed. And that flaw made him dangerous. For me, that flaw ruined the wonder. 

I couldn’t fully trust Superman anymore and I didn’t like how his vulnerability to Red Kryptonite made me feel. At least with the Green Kryptonite he kept his heart, he may have lost his strength but his moral compass was not altered. But with the Red, he lost himself. I didn’t like this, I felt betrayed. Disillusionment started creeping in, there was no reason to care anymore for his character, so I pretty much gave up on Superman after that. You might think I take things too seriously, but that is how my mind works. Sadly for me, trust in the trustworthiness of a character can be an all-or-nothing deal.

It sounds pretty extreme — but I want a hero whose goodness doesn’t fail.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that I carry that same desire over to my human relationships as well. I want people to be true. And when they are not, I feel a bit betrayed and somewhat disillusioned, so when I am let down I guard my heart in equal measure to the betrayal of that person. No one likes to get hurt, and that is why so many of us are closed off. Like the song “I am a Rock” by Simon & Garfunkel:

A fortress deep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain
I am a rock
I am an island

But we all know that if you want to live and enjoy life, it takes risk. People will hurt you, and if you want to keep them in your life you will have to learn to forgive. We must forgive because the same flaw we don’t like in others resides in us. Theologically speaking, this is the concept of the “depravity of man.” Sin is alive and well in us all, like Red Kryptonite, it makes us all flawed. That which is obnoxious in others also resides in me. The first chapter of Isaiah 1:5-6 is very clear on our problem:

Your whole head is injured,
your whole heart afflicted.
From the sole of your foot to the top of your head
there is no soundness —
only wounds and welts
and open sores,
not cleansed or bandaged
or soothed with olive oil.

We should not be surprised at all when people fail. We are all tainted with Red Kryptonite. So where do you turn when you lose all your heroes? What if there is nobody to protect you and you are left to face the world alone? And even worse, you have to protect yourself from the one you once trusted? 

Growing up, my dad was my hero. He did no wrong. I thought every joke he told was funny. He was the life of every party. He seemed to always have my back. And then one day he lost his job. It was a lucrative high-paying job, and he was fired at the prime age of 55. For a whole year, he couldn’t find another job that compensated him enough to pay all his bills and meet his mortgage. Eventually, he sold his stocks to keep his house until he had to downsize to a much smaller house. In the middle of this, he went through his own personal hell. He was irritable, sometimes angry, quick to argue, and often he felt alone. My hero lost his cape. I can vividly remember one night I closed my bedroom door and he and my mom were loudly arguing over some trivial matter. He was on edge and had no margin to give grace, his soul was frayed on the edges. I didn’t know what to do.

So I prayed for him.

My dad needed the Father in heaven to help him. So I went to my knees for my father. It was the strangest thing, it may have been the first time I saw my dad as a weak man like me — he too was in desperate need of a Savior. I went to the one person I knew would not let me or him down. I pleaded his case with the Holy God who did not change like the shadows. He is the I Am. Unchanging.

The strangest thing happened to my heart after I prayed for my dad — I could let him be human. Before that moment, I tried to fit him into a mental box of my own making. He had to be my unblemished hero, and if he ever landed short of being perfect, I felt like he let me down. I didn’t realize it until I prayed for him, but growing up my mood was dependent upon him having a spotless performance. If he was tired or he ever raised his voice, I felt like he was betraying me in some strange way. He was failing. I couldn’t let him be human because I held him so high. But after seeing his need and how he was hurting and flawed in his human skin, I was able to let his failings go and let God become my true Father, my real hero.

And to this day, Jesus still has never let me down.

Recently another one of my heroes has lost his halo and both of his wings have been clipped off. Ravi Zacharias, the famous evangelist has fallen out of the ministry sky and has landed on earth with a huge thud and a cloud of dust. His fall has shocked me to the core because he was someone I wanted to be like. I met him years ago when his ministry, RZIM, was just being launched in the United States. He came to preach at my home church and I was able to introduce him to my Muslim friend Muhammad, a college student who came to live in Cleveland from the United Arab Emirates. Ravi was incredibly kind to Muhammad and was able to answer many of his difficult questions concerning Christ. I was even asked to help assist Ravi’s team in Poland where they evangelized to the students who attended the University of Warsaw. So I saw firsthand what effect his ministry has had across the world, and it was incredible.

So when I heard about the revelations of his horrible sins and how he systematically covered up his blatant sexual abuse of numerous women over the years, my heart was crushed. My lifelong respect for Ravi instantly vanished. It was a terrible feeling.

But I was not surprised. 

I know that Red Kryptonite lived in Ravi too. As it stands, the whole RZIM is in shambles. Just today the Canadian division of RZIM has shut down, fundraising worldwide has stopped, and the ministry is being nationally excoriated on every major Christian news outlet. Many people are quick to see Ravi’s failings as a complete indictment on Christianity, but to me it confirms it. God told us clearly that people will fail you because we “all have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God.” Heroes will fall, and the higher we let them climb the bigger the crater they leave when they fall. 

Romans 11:32 says, “For God has bound everyone over to disobedience so that he may have mercy on them all.” This includes Ravi, my dad, and even me. And what about poor old Superman? The jury is still out.