Stay Focused. Keep Going. Finish Strong.

| Faith and Family Flicks News and Notes

At seven o’clock on the evening of October 20, 1968, a few thousand spectators remained scattered across Mexico City’s Olympic Stadium. The air had turned cool and dark. The last of the marathon runners, spent and staggering, had long since been carried off to the medical tents. More than an hour earlier, Mamo Wolde of Ethiopia, the race’s eventual winner, looking remarkably fresh, had crossed the finish line to complete the 26-mile, 385-yard course. He was the reigning champion of the event, and he’d run like it.

The medal ceremony was over. People were gathering their things to leave. Then, from beyond the stadium gate, came the sound of sirens and police whistles. Heads turned. A lone figure entered the stadium wearing the colors of Tanzania. His name was John Stephen Akhwari — himself the reigning African champion, no stranger to finishing near the front of a field. But tonight he was hobbling. Somewhere around the 19-kilometer mark, in the chaos of jostling runners, Akhwari had fallen hard, dislocating his knee and badly injuring his shoulder. Dehydrated, disoriented, his leg wrapped in a rough, bloodied bandage, he had gotten back up.

Of the 79 men who had started that marathon, only 17 would finish. Akhwari was determined to be one of them, even if it meant being the last.

He circled the final stretch of track in visible agony, grimacing with every step. The remaining spectators rose to their feet and cheered him as though he were crossing first, not last. When he finally reached the finish line, Akhwari didn’t stop to soak in the applause. He simply walked off the field.

Afterward, a reporter asked him the question everyone was thinking: given the injury, and with no chance of a medal, why hadn’t he just quit?

Akhwari’s answer has outlived the race itself: “My country did not send me 7,000 miles to start the race. They sent me 7,000 miles to finish the race.”

You were not put here just to start. You were put here to finish.

The Race Marked Out for Us

There’s a reason that answer still stops people in their tracks more than half a century later. It touches something true about the life of faith.

The writer of Hebrews uses this same image, a race, to describe what it means to follow Christ:

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1)

Notice what the verse doesn’t say. It doesn’t say “let us start the race.” Starting is the easy part. Nearly everyone starts. Seventy-nine men lined up in Mexico City that afternoon, and every one of them believed, at the starting gun, that they’d finish. The verse says run with endurance, language that assumes resistance, fatigue, and the real possibility of quitting long before the finish line comes into view.

That’s because the Christian life was never sold to us as a sprint. It’s a marathon, and marathons have a way of finding your weak points. Somewhere around your own 19-kilometer mark, something is going to knock you down.

For some of us, it’s a health diagnosis nobody saw coming. For others, it’s a financial collapse, a business that fails, a job that disappears, a debt that won’t stop growing. For others still, it’s a marriage or a friendship that fractures, a wayward child, a season of grief that seems to have no bottom. None of us get to choose our injury. We only get to choose what we do after we’re on the ground.

Getting Back Up

Here’s what’s easy to miss in the Akhwari story: nobody would have blamed him for stopping. He had already lost. There was no medal waiting, no title, no reward visible from where he lay on the track. By every practical measure, finishing changed nothing about the outcome of the race.

And yet it changed everything about what his finish meant.

That’s the picture Hebrews is painting. We don’t run with endurance because finishing guarantees us a trophy in the eyes of the world. We run because we were sent 7,000 miles for a purpose bigger than the applause at the finish line, sent by a God who isn’t interested in how fast we started, but in whether we’re still moving forward when it costs us something to do it.

The passage goes on: “looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame…” (Hebrews 12:2). Jesus himself modeled this. He didn’t merely start toward the cross — Gethsemane makes clear how real the temptation to stop was. He finished it. And because He did, we have both a model and a source of strength for finishing our own race.

Finish Well

Maybe you’re reading this in the middle of your own fall on the track. Maybe the injury is recent, and you’re still deciding whether to get back up. Or maybe you’ve been limping along for a while now, wondering if anyone would notice — or care — if you just quietly stopped.

Akhwari’s answer is worth carrying with you: you were not put here just to start. You were put here to finish.

That doesn’t mean pretending the injury doesn’t hurt. Akhwari didn’t hide his bandage or his limp, he ran through the pain in full view of everyone, and that honesty is part of what made his finish so powerful. Faith isn’t the absence of a limp. It’s choosing to keep moving with one.

So take the next lap, whatever it looks like. Wrap the wound if you need to. Slow the pace if you must. But don’t leave the track. There is still a stadium of witnesses cheering, not because you’re winning, but because you’re finishing. And in the economy of God, that’s what it means to finish well.

Dave Almgren – Two Pastors, Popcorn and a Movie Podcast

The Story of Hudson & Maria Is Finally Becoming a Movie

| Faith and Family Flicks News and Notes

After more than a decade of prayer, six rejected screenplays, and what can only be described as a faith journey in its own right, Half Crown Media — in partnership with OMF International, the organization Hudson Taylor himself founded has officially announced that their film HUDSON & MARIA is going into production. The first press release went out May 6th. Director Matt Mikalatos, a former missionary who also wrote the screenplay, confirmed on his Substack that filming begins this summer in Malaysia, with casting underway right now.

This one has been a long time coming. And from everything I’ve seen, it’s going to be worth every year of waiting.

Who Was Hudson Taylor?

If you don’t know the name, you need to.

James Hudson Taylor was born in Barnsley, Yorkshire, England in 1832. His parents prayed over him before he was born, specifically asking God to send him to China as a missionary. As a teenager he walked away from that faith entirely. But at seventeen, alone in his father’s library, he picked up a gospel tract and read it to the end. That afternoon changed everything.

He started learning Mandarin. He studied medicine. He gave away most of what he owned to the poor, quietly testing whether God could really be trusted to provide. And in 1853, at twenty-one years old, he sailed for China, arriving in Shanghai in the midst of the Taiping Rebellion, stepping off a boat into a country in upheaval, with nothing but a calling he couldn’t shake loose.

What happened next would reshape the entire history of Christian missions.

The Man Who Refused to Stay Foreign

Here’s what made Hudson Taylor unlike virtually every other missionary of his era: he refused to stay an outsider.

While most Western missionaries of the 1800s planted themselves in China’s coastal cities, lived in foreign compounds, dressed in European clothes, and largely moved in circles of other Westerners, Taylor did something that got him mocked by nearly everyone, including his fellow missionaries. He shaved his forehead, grew a queue, put on Chinese clothing, learned the language until he was fluent, and moved into the interior of the country where no foreign missionary had gone.

He was called an embarrassment. A laughingstock. One missionary suggested he “ought to be horsewhipped.” But Taylor was unmoved. He had understood something most of his colleagues had not: that the Chinese people would never hear the Gospel as long as it arrived wearing a British suit.

He said it plainly: “Let us in everything not sinful become like the Chinese, that by all means we may save some.”

In 1865, Taylor founded the China Inland Mission, revolutionary in every way. No guaranteed salaries, just faith and God’s provision. Non-denominational, open to working-class missionaries and single women when no one else would send them. Focused entirely on the unreached interior, the hundreds of millions of souls that coastal missions weren’t reaching. By the time he died in 1905, the CIM had sent more than 800 missionaries to every province in China, planted 300+ mission stations, and seen more than 20,000 Chinese come to faith. Today that organization continues as OMF International, the very organization co-producing this film.

Historian Ruth Tucker has called him the most visionary missionary since the Apostle Paul. The man earned it.

But This Film Is a Love Story

The movie isn’t just a biography of a missionary hero. At its heart, HUDSON & MARIA is a love story and one of the most remarkable ones in the history of the church.

Maria Dyer was born in China to missionary parents. She was everything Hudson hoped for, passionate, deeply faithful, with a courage that matched his own. When he declared his love for her, the entire missionary community in Ningbo erupted. The woman overseeing Maria’s school despised Taylor, thought him uneducated and unconventional, and did everything in her power to stop them, including threatening a lawsuit.

Maria’s response? She drew a line in the sand: “If he loves me more than Jesus, he is not worthy of me — if he were to leave the Lord’s work for the world’s honor, I would have nothing further to do with him.”

They married in 1858, and together they built something extraordinary, facing poverty, illness, the deaths of children, and the sheer weight of a mission that seemed too large for any two people to carry.

The film also introduces a third key character: Wang Laijun, a loyal Chinese friend whose insight bridges cultures, and who represents the Chinese believers who were not merely recipients of the Gospel, but partners in carrying it forward.

A Director Who Knows the Story from the Inside

Matt Mikalatos is a former missionary himself, which is exactly why he was the right person to write this screenplay, and now to direct it.

He told CBN News that the story lands with particular force in today’s world. “There was a lot of unrest, uncertainty in the world,” he said of the film’s historical setting — the era of the Opium Wars and the Taiping Rebellion. “Disease was running rampant in a way that we have recently experienced. And there was just uncertainty among so many people. In the midst of that, what we see is this 21-year-old and his fiancée and then wife who looked at the unrest of the world and believed, like many young believers do, that they could change the world through their commitment to Christ and their willingness to sacrifice. And it turns out they were absolutely correct.”

Mikalatos also noted on his Substack that this was the first paid screenwriting work he ever did, five years ago and that the path from writing it to now directing it has felt nothing short of “supernatural.” Casting announcements are expected soon.

A Project Built on the Same Faith It Tells

Half Crown Media has been developing this film for over a decade, and the way they’ve done it looks a lot like the way Hudson Taylor did everything: by trusting God to provide rather than chasing the money first.

The total budget is $14 million — $7 million for production, $7 million for distribution, raised entirely through donations, not investment, in keeping with the faith-based DNA of OMF International. They rejected six screenplays over the years before finally connecting with Mikalatos. Their board chair, Dr. Jennie Fung, reflected on the journey in their January 2026 newsletter, describing it as standing on the east bank of the Jordan, years in the wilderness, now on the edge of the Promised Land.

They also note that the film’s production coincides with the 160th anniversary of the Lammermuir Party, the historic voyage in 1866 when Hudson and Maria Taylor, along with sixteen missionaries, sailed for China on a ship called the Lammermuir, the largest single group of missionaries to China at the time, battered by back-to-back typhoons in the Taiwan Strait before arriving safely to begin the work of the CIM. Honoring that anniversary as cameras roll on the story feels like more than coincidence.

As Taylor himself said: “There are three stages to every great work of God: first it is impossible, then it is difficult, then it is done.”

They have arrived at done.

Why This Film Matters

We live in a cultural moment when the church is wrestling with big questions about calling, sacrifice, cultural humility, and what it actually means to follow Jesus into hard places. Hudson and Maria Taylor’s story speaks directly into every one of those conversations.

He wasn’t polished or pedigreed. He was a young man from Yorkshire who said yes, got on a boat, and gave his life away. He dressed differently than everyone expected. He went where no one else would go. He built something that outlasted him by more than a century. And his wife Maria stood beside him at every step, not as a supporting character, but as a full partner in the mission.

That’s a story the church needs to see on a screen.

On-site filming for HUDSON & MARIA begins in Malaysia this August. You can follow the project and sign up for updates at HudsonAndMaria.com, and follow Half Crown Media at halfcrownmedia.com.

Stay tuned here at FaithAndFamilyFlicks.com — as casting is announced and production moves forward, we’ll keep you in the loop. This is one worth praying for and one worth watching for.

Dave Almgren is the founder of The Advance Team and host of the “Two Pastors, Popcorn and a Movie” podcast. He writes regularly about faith-based film at FaithAndFamilyFlicks.com.

Why Families Need to Show Up…

| Faith and Family Flicks News and Notes

Let me ask you something that might sting just a little.

How many times have you sat through a movie preview, watched something raunchy or violent flash across the screen, and muttered to the person next to you, “This is why I don’t go to the movies anymore”? How many times have you scrolled through a streaming service, clicking past title after title, shaking your head at what passes for entertainment these days?

If you’re a person of faith, especially if you have kids in the house, this probably happens more than you’d like to admit.

Now here’s the question I really want to ask: What did you do about it?

Because a movie was just made for you. For your family. For your grandmother who loves to laugh. For your kids who you want to take to the theater without having to cover their eyes. It didn’t happen by accident, it happened because someone decided to put their convictions on the line and make something that reflects the values we say matter to us.

And right now, it’s in theaters.

So the question is – are you going?

The Spectrum of Faith-and-Family Films

Before we get to the movie itself, let’s talk about something important: what “faith-and-family” actually means, because it’s a much bigger tent than most people realize.

On one end of the spectrum, you have explicitly biblical films. The Passion of the Christ. The Chosen. I Can Only Imagine. Jesus Revolution. King of Kings. These are chapter-and-verse stories — scripture brought to life on screen, direct and unapologetic about their message.

On the other end, you have films that aren’t quoting scripture but are absolutely shaped by faith. Stories about marriage, family, sacrifice, integrity, and what it looks like to actually live out the values we profess, in a house, with kids, in the middle of ordinary, messy, hilarious real life. Biblical principles communicated through story, not sermon.

Both are faith-and-family content. Both matter. And both need our support.

The Breadwinner — comedian Nate Bargatze’s debut film, now in theaters — lives in that second category. It’s not a biblical epic. It doesn’t have an altar call. But it is built on the kind of values that faith communities have been begging Hollywood to reflect: commitment to family, self-sacrifice, a husband and wife who are genuinely for each other, and content so clean you can bring literally everyone in your family without a moment of awkwardness.

Who Is Nate Bargatze, and Why Does It Matter?

If you’ve somehow missed Nate Bargatze up to this point, here’s what you need to know. He’s a Nashville-born, Southern-raised Christian comedian who has spent over twenty years building one of the most remarkable careers in stand-up comedy, all without ever crossing a line your mom would be uncomfortable with. No crude jokes. No profanity. No shock value. Just genuinely funny storytelling about family life, marriage, and the everyday absurdity of being human.

His recent “Big Dumb Eyes” World Tour sold over two million tickets — more than Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter Tour. He hosted the Primetime Emmy Awards. He has been the highest-grossing stand-up comedian in the country. And he did all of it clean.

He’s been asked about this over and over again throughout his career, and his answers are always the same. His faith shaped who he is. And he has always believed that the best room is one where everyone, grandma, the teenagers, the little kids — can all laugh together without anyone being embarrassed.

“I just want to make something that all of them can be in the room together,” he’s said. He considers clean, family-centered comedy his calling, not just a career choice, but something God put on his heart.

Now he’s brought that calling to the big screen. And he didn’t do it alone, The Breadwinner was co-produced by Wonder Project, a faith-based production company that partnered with Sony Pictures because they believed in exactly what this film represents. This movie was built from the ground up with faith-and-family values at the center.

What The Breadwinner Is About

The premise is simple and instantly relatable. Nate plays Nate Wilcox, a top-performing car salesman married to Katie (played by Mandy Moore), who runs their household and raises their three daughters with what can only be described as superhuman competence.

Then Katie lands a deal on Shark Tank for her household invention. The catch? She has to travel overseas for two weeks to get production rolling. That means Nate — the breadwinner — is suddenly home alone with three daughters and absolutely no idea what he’s doing.

What follows is the kind of comedic chaos that feels completely real because it is real. Anyone who has ever watched their spouse handle everything and thought “I could do that”, only to discover forty-five minutes later that they absolutely cannot — will recognize themselves in this movie. Underneath all the laughs is a story about what it means to truly see and honor the people we love, to step up when it’s hard, and to realize that keeping a family together takes more grace than we usually give it credit for.

It’s rated PG. It runs 99 minutes. And yes, there’s a horse.

Here’s the Part Where We Have to Be Honest With Ourselves

Faith communities — and I say this with love, because I am one of you, have a habit of doing something that genuinely baffles Hollywood.

We complain about the content. Loudly. Passionately. We share articles about the moral decline of entertainment. We post on social media about how Hollywood has forgotten families. And then, when a movie comes along that gives us exactly what we’ve been asking for, we… wait for it to come to streaming.

We say we’ll catch it on Netflix.

We tell ourselves we’ll take the family “when things slow down.”

And then we wonder why there aren’t more movies like this being made.

Here’s the hard truth: Hollywood is not a values system. It’s a business. And businesses follow the money. When faith-and-family films succeed at the box office, whether they’re The Passion of the Christ or a PG comedy about a dad who can’t figure out laundry, studios greenlight more of them. When those same films under perform in theaters, the message Hollywood hears is clear: there’s no market for this.

The opening weekend box office is the vote that counts. Not the streaming numbers six months later. Not your positive review on social media. Ticket sales are what determine whether the next faith-and-family filmmaker gets a green light — or whether Hollywood goes back to making what it knows will sell.

What You Can Do Right Now

The Breadwinner is still in theaters. Here’s how you can make a difference:

Go this week. Every ticket still in the theatrical run matters. Take the kids, bring the grandparents, call your small group, text your neighbors. Make it a thing.

Talk about it. Share it from your church social media. Mention it in your newsletter. Tell people there is a genuinely funny, genuinely clean family movie in theaters right now — and that showing up is a statement.

Bring people who don’t usually go to “faith” movies. This isn’t a sermon on screen. It’s a hilarious, warm story about family — made by people of faith, for everyone. That’s actually the most powerful kind of outreach.

Think bigger. Every time you buy a ticket to a faith-and-family film — whether it’s a biblical epic or a PG comedy — you are casting a vote for the kind of content you want to exist. Use that vote.

The Bigger Picture

The faith-and-family film space is growing and it is growing because audiences have shown up. The Chosen exists because people showed up. I Can Only Imagine shocked Hollywood because people showed up. Every film that breaks through changes what gets green-lit next.

The Breadwinner is the current opportunity. It’s funny, it’s clean, it’s in theaters right now, and it was made by a man whose faith quietly shapes everything he does — backed by Wonder Project, a production company that exists specifically to bring more content like this into the world.

The least we can do is show up.

Go see it. Take your people. Laugh together. And let Hollywood know that faith-and-family audiences are real, we are paying attention, and we vote with our dollars.

Because if we don’t show up, they’ll stop making them. And then we’ll be right back to complaining about our streaming queues — with nobody to blame but ourselves.

The Breadwinner is rated PG and is now playing in theaters nationwide. Running time: 99 minutes. Co-produced by Wonder Project in partnership with Sony Pictures.

David Almgren – Two Pastors Popcorn and a Movie Podcast

Before He Was on the Dollar Bill, He Was Just a 22-Year-Old Who Messed Up

| Faith and Family Flicks News and Notes

I’ve spent years working with film and faith communities, and I have to be honest with you, I don’t get excited about every movie that comes across my desk. But Young Washington, releasing July 3 from Angel Studios and directed by Jon Erwin, is the kind of film I’ve been waiting for.

Not because it’s a patriotic story. Not just because the timing with America’s 250th birthday is perfect. But because it tells the truth about something we don’t talk about enough in our churches and our homes:

Failure is part of the story. Even for great men of faith.

He Wasn’t a Legend Yet

Here’s what most of us never learned in history class. George Washington was 22 years old when he made a decision that helped ignite an international war. A young man, not yet tested, not yet the face on the dollar bill, just a soldier who got it badly wrong at Fort Necessity.

And then he had to decide what to do next.

That question — what do you do after you’ve failed? — is the beating heart of Young Washington. And it’s one of the most relevant questions any family can ask around the kitchen table right now.

Even as a young man, Washington carried a gravity of character that put responsibility in his hands before most guys his age had figured out their direction. But gravity of character didn’t mean he was perfect. It meant he had the weight to keep going after he wasn’t.

A Man Who Talked to God — Long Before He Was Famous

This is the part of Washington’s story I wish more people knew.

Before he was a general. Before the Constitutional Convention. Before he ever set foot in a presidential residence. George Washington kept a prayer journal.

He wrote things like this:

“O eternal and everlasting God, direct my thoughts, words and work. Wash away my sins in the immaculate blood of the lamb, and purge my heart by thy Holy Spirit… daily frame me more and more into the likeness of thy son Jesus Christ.”

That’s not the language of a man performing faith for public consumption. That’s someone who actually believed he needed God to shape him, daily, personally, from the inside out. He wasn’t asking for victory or fame. He was asking to be made more like Christ.

And here’s what’s remarkable: he was writing prayers like that while he was still young, still being formed, still carrying the weight of his failures at Fort Necessity.

The spiritual life wasn’t something Washington added later, after he’d arrived. It was the ground he was standing on while he was still figuring out who he was.

Providence Doesn’t Wait for Perfect People

One of the most stunning moments in Washington’s actual history happened during the Battle of the Monongahela. He rode into a battlefield disaster alongside General Braddock, and by all accounts he should have died. Bullets passed through his coat. Two horses were shot out from under him. Every man around him was falling.

And he walked away without a scratch.

Washington didn’t chalk it up to luck. He wrote afterward that he had been “protected beyond all human probability or expectation” by the hand of God. He saw Providence not as a distant theological concept but as something actively at work in the specific circumstances of his life, including the painful ones.

Years later, a Native American chief who had been on the opposing side that day sought Washington out to deliver a message. His marksmen had tried to bring Washington down and couldn’t. They concluded, in his words, that Washington was “under the special guardianship of the Great Spirit” and that he “can never die in battle.”

Now, I’m not making a theological claim about that chief’s words. But I am saying that Washington’s sense of being watched over, protected, and directed by Providence was not something he invented after his victories. It was something forged in near-death, in failure, in the confusion of a 22-year-old trying to figure out what God was doing in a situation that had gone badly wrong.

In the film, we see Washington ask his mother about exactly that, how God could possibly be at work in something so broken. If you’ve ever asked that question yourself, you’re going to feel this movie.

His mother, Mary Ball Washington, gives him the answer that becomes the theme of the whole story:

“You can learn from failure. But if you don’t — you’ve failed twice.”

That line stopped me cold. Because it’s not just wisdom for a young soldier. It’s wisdom for every dad, every mom, every kid who’s watching their parents right now to see how we handle our own Fort Necessity moments.

When He Could Have Taken Power — He Walked Away

Here’s a moment that deserves more attention than it gets.

After the Revolutionary War ended, Washington commanded the most respected fighting force on the continent. His men were loyal. The country was in chaos. And there were serious voices urging him to step in, take control, and impose order. In the way Cromwell had done in England. In the way that powerful men have always been tempted to do when they believe they’re the right person for the moment.

Washington refused.

On December 23, 1783, he stood before Congress in Annapolis and resigned his commission. He said, “I consider it an indispensable duty to close this last solemn act of my official life by commending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God.”

He gave the power back. And then he went home to Mount Vernon.

The man who could have been king chose to be a servant. That’s not a personality trait. That’s a theological conviction. He genuinely believed that authority belonged to God and was held in trust — not seized and kept.

That kind of character doesn’t come from nowhere. It comes from years of prayer journals and Fort Necessity moments and asking God to frame him more and more into the likeness of Christ.

What This Film Is Really About

It’s about character formation. And character formation is almost never pretty in the middle of it.

As someone who spent nearly two decades in kids and family ministry before moving into faith-based film work, I’ve watched a generation of families struggle to find stories worth telling their kids. Stories that are honest about failure without being hopeless. Stories that show faith working in real life, not just as a feel-good tag at the end.

Young Washington is that story.

The film highlights traits we used to call virtues — humility, courage, accountability, perseverance, faith, stewardship. And it shows them being forged in difficulty, not handed out as rewards for good behavior.

A Few Questions Worth Bringing Home

I’ve had the chance to work through the Family Discussion Guide built around this film, and I want to share a few questions that struck me as genuinely conversation-starting, not the kind with easy answers.

What would you have done at 22, with everyone watching?

At Fort Necessity, Washington had four real options: openly admit the mistake and take full responsibility, blame the French and argue he was justified, walk away from military life entirely, or stay quiet and try to prove himself through future service. As a family, rank those from wisest to least wise, then talk about why you ranked them the way you did. You might be surprised where the disagreement lands.

Where do you see Providence in your own hard seasons?

Washington asked his mother how God could be at work in something that went so badly. Have you ever asked that? What did your family decide?

Who in your family is still being “formed”?

At 22, Washington wasn’t the man on the dollar bill yet. He was still being shaped. Who in your home is in that process right now, and what does it look like to support them in it?

That last question wrecked me a little, personally. I think about my own kids. I think about the teenagers in my community. We’re quick to celebrate the finished product. We’re less patient with the becoming.

Bring Your Whole Church — and Save 33%

Young Washington opens July 3, 2026, right in time for Independence Day weekend and America’s 250th birthday. There’s no better occasion to sit with your family, your small group, or your entire congregation and watch the story of the man who, by God’s grace and his own hard-won character, helped make that celebration possible.

Groups of 15 or more save 33% on tickets.

Get your group tickets now at angel.com/cherrytree — and make it an event your community will be talking about long after the credits roll.

If you’re a pastor who wants to preview the film before recommending it to your congregation, visit faithandfamilyflicks.com/young-washington-pastors for a private screening link.

This is the kind of story we need right now. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s honest. And in a culture that tends to either whitewash its heroes or tear them down entirely, a film willing to say he was 22, he failed, and God wasn’t done with him yet feels like exactly the right message for the right moment.

I hope your family — and your church — is there for it.

Dave Almgren is the founder of The Advance Team, a faith-based film marketing consultancy, and runs outreach campaigns through FaithAndFamilyFlicks.com. He’s also the host of the podcast “Two Pastors, Popcorn and a Movie.”

Start, Finish, Repeat

| Faith and Family Flicks News and Notes

What if winning at life isn’t about one big moment—but about showing up, finishing, and doing it all over again?

In NASCAR, championships aren’t won in a single race. Every driver knows that crossing the finish line consistently, race after race, week after week, is what separates champions from also-rans, (a racing term for competitors who finish the race but don’t place in the top spots). You might not win every race. You might not even come in second. But if you start, if you finish, and if you show up to do it again next week, the points accumulate. The momentum builds. And at the end of the season, the driver who finished the most races, not just the fastest ones, often holds the trophy.

The Apostle Paul understood this principle long before NASCAR existed.

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.” — 1 Corinthians 9:24

Paul wasn’t talking about sprinting to a single finish line. He was describing a life of sustained, faithful effort—race after race, season after season—running with intention toward something worth running for.

You’re Already at the Starting Line

Here’s the thing about a starting line: it doesn’t care who you were yesterday. It only asks one question, are you ready to run today?

Maybe you’ve had seasons where you felt like you were spinning your wheels. Going fast but getting nowhere. Or maybe life’s circumstances have felt like a wrong-way sign on the road, pointing you in a direction you never intended to go. The enemy of a great race isn’t always failure. Sometimes it’s simply running in the wrong direction with tremendous effort.

The good news is that God’s grace is the great reset. No matter how many wrong turns are behind you, the starting line is always available. Every single day is a new race. Every new season is a fresh opportunity to line up, rev the engine, and go.

Hebrews 12:1 puts it this way: “Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”

The race is marked out. The course is set. The question is whether we’ll shed what’s slowing us down and step into it with intention, again and again and again.

Every Race Matters

Here’s where a lot of Christians get tripped up: they’re waiting for the big race. The defining moment. The dramatic turning point that will finally make their faith feel significant.

But championship seasons aren’t built on dramatic moments. They’re built on ordinary faithfulness. Showing up on a Tuesday when nobody’s watching. Finishing the hard conversation you started. Following through on the commitment you made when you felt inspired, even when the inspiration has long since faded.

Paul understood this intimately. “Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air.” — 1 Corinthians 9:26

Every lap counts. Every race in your series matters. The marriage you’re faithfully investing in right now—that’s a race. The integrity you’re maintaining at work when it would be easier to cut corners, that’s a race. The forgiveness you’re choosing to extend when every emotion tells you not to, that’s a race. Finish it. Then line up and do it again.

Finishing Well Is the Goal

There is perhaps no more moving picture of a life well-raced than the Apostle Paul near the end of his life, writing from a prison cell with full confidence in how his story was ending.

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day.” — 2 Timothy 4:7-8

He didn’t say he ran perfectly. He didn’t say he never crashed or never doubted. He said he finished. He kept the faith. And at the end of a long series of races, many of them brutal, many of them costly, he crossed the final line still holding on to the One who called him into the race in the first place.

That’s the goal. Not perfection. Completion. Faithful, consistent, never-quit completion.

The Prize That Doesn’t Rust

Here’s what separates this race from every other competition the world offers: the prize isn’t a trophy that tarnishes. It isn’t a title that fades. It isn’t applause from a crowd that will forget your name by next season.

“They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.” — 1 Corinthians 9:25

Everything this world calls victory is temporary. Career success, financial achievement, public recognition, none of it goes with you. But every race you run in faith? That investment compounds into eternity. Every act of love. Every moment of faithfulness when no one was watching. Every time you chose God’s way over the easy way. It all counts. Every lap. Every finish line. Every time you lined up and did it again.

You are running toward something real.

Start, Finish, Repeat: Five Steps to Racing Well

So here’s the invitation: run. Not someday. Not when life calms down or when you feel more ready. Today. And then tomorrow. And then the day after that.

But what does that actually look like? Here are five practical ways to run your next race with intention:

One: Strip the weight. Look honestly at what you’re carrying that’s slowing you down. Is it unforgiveness? Fear? Shame about your past? Name it, set it aside, and run lighter. You can’t finish races carrying baggage that doesn’t belong to you.

Two: Know your lane. Stop comparing your race to someone else’s. God didn’t call you to run someone else’s course. Your lane is unique, and trying to run in someone else’s will only trip you up. Run your race. Finish your race.

Three: Find your pit crew. You were not meant to race alone. Surround yourself with people who believe in the prize you’re running toward—people who will speak truth when you’re tempted to quit and remind you of the finish line when the race gets long. That’s your church, your small group, your closest friends in faith.

Four: Fix your eyes forward. Not on the obstacles behind you. Not on the runners around you. Eyes on Jesus. Eyes on the prize. Every time your gaze drifts—and it will—redirect it back to what you’re running toward, not what you’re running from.

Five: Line up again tomorrow. This is the one that separates champions from quitters. When the race is done—whether you finished strong or barely limped across the line—show up again. Start again. The series isn’t over. The points are still accumulating. The season isn’t finished until God says it’s finished.

The crowd of witnesses is cheering. The course is marked. The prize is waiting.

And the God who called you into this race? He’s not watching from the grandstand. He’s running with you.

Start. Finish. Repeat.

David Almgren – Two Pastors, Popcorn and a Movie Podcast

The Discipline of Excellence: What Pistol Pete Maravich Teaches Us About Life

| Faith and Family Flicks News and Notes

What does it take to reach the pinnacle of success?

That’s the question that haunts many of us. We look at the people who seem to have it all, the accolades, the money, the recognition, the standing ovations, and we wonder – is that enough? Does reaching the top of your field finally answer the deep questions we carry about meaning and purpose?

Pistol Pete Maravich spent his entire life answering that question. And his answer might surprise you.

Screenshot

The Foundation: A Father’s Vision

Before Pete Maravich became a legend, before the arenas filled with fans eager to watch him play, there was a father named Press Maravich who had a vision. He believed his son could be great, not eventually, not someday, but through relentless, daily discipline.

So Press did something unconventional. He made Pete practice everywhere. Not just on the court, but in the car. As they drove down the street, Pete would dribble a basketball out the window while his father drove. The ball would bounce off the pavement, the railroad tracks, the curb — anywhere and everywhere. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t Instagram-worthy. It was just a father and son, committed to the small, daily practices that separate the good from the great.

This wasn’t punishment. This was love expressed through discipline. This was a father saying: “I believe in you so much that I’m going to push you to be better than you thought possible.”

The Long Road to Mastery

That childhood discipline carried Pete through his college years at Louisiana State University. By the time he finished his NCAA career, he had set a scoring record that would stand for decades — 3,667 points before the three-pointer was even introduced to the game. Let that sink in. In an era when the three-pointer didn’t exist, Pete Maravich was scoring at a rate that seemed almost impossible.

How? The same way his father had taught him. Through discipline. Through showing up. Through the railroad tracks and the car windows and the relentless commitment to getting one percent better every single day.

His peers knew it. Larry Bird, one of the greatest shooters ever to play the game, said that Pistol Pete was “one of the truly great players that could fill an arena.” Pat Riley, the legendary coach, said Pete was “the original. He was the best ball handler I ever saw. Ever.” These weren’t casual compliments. These were tributes from people who understood excellence because they pursued it themselves.

The Peak: Success, But at What Cost?

Pete Maravich made it to the NBA. He became an All-Star. He won scoring titles. He was one of the highest-paid rookies in the history of professional basketball. By every worldly measure, he had succeeded. He had climbed the mountain and planted his flag at the summit.

But here’s where Pete’s story takes a turn that most success stories don’t.

Because despite all of that, despite the money, the fame, the accolades, the respect of his peers, something was still missing. There was still an emptiness that no championship could fill, no scoring record could satisfy, no standing ovation could quiet.

Jesus said it this way: “What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?” Pete Maravich had gained the world. And he was beginning to realize that the world, in all its glory and recognition, was not enough.

The Real Turning Point

It wasn’t until later in his life that Pete Maravich found what he was actually looking for. He became a Christian. And when he did, everything came into focus. The discipline he had learned from his father, the relentless pursuit of excellence, the commitment to daily practice, the willingness to show up even when no one was watching, suddenly had a new direction. It had a new purpose. It had a soul.

Pete spent his later years speaking about his faith, about the emptiness of worldly success, about the fulfillment that only comes from a relationship with God. He went from playing to packed arenas to speaking in churches. He went from chasing scoring records to chasing something infinitely more valuable: meaning, purpose, and peace.

The Bridge: From Basketball to the Spiritual Life

Here’s what Pete Maravich’s life teaches us: Excellence is not bad. Discipline is not wrong. The pursuit of mastery in your field, whether that’s basketball or business or art or ministry, is noble and good.

But excellence in one area of life, without excellence in the spiritual life, leaves you empty.

Think about the discipline Pete learned from his father. Dribbling out the car window. Practicing when no one was watching. Showing up day after day after day. Getting marginally better. That’s not a basketball principle. That’s a life principle.

The same discipline that made Pete Maravich the greatest scorer in NCAA history can make you spiritually mature. The same commitment to daily practice that filled arenas can fill your soul. The same willingness to show up when it’s hard, when it’s not glamorous, when no one is watching, that’s what builds a life of genuine faith and purpose.

The Question Answered

So back to the question we started with: What does it take to reach the pinnacle of success?

Pete Maravich would tell you that reaching the pinnacle of your field is wonderful. Go for it. Practice like your life depends on it. Be disciplined. Be excellent. Be great.

But don’t stop there.

Because the real pinnacle, the real success that actually satisfies is found not in what the world can give you, but in what God offers. It’s found in discipline applied not just to your craft, but to your spiritual life. It’s found in showing up, day after day, to pursue excellence in knowing God, in growing in faith, in becoming the person He created you to be.

Pete Maravich learned to dribble a basketball out a car window. But the greater lesson his life teaches us is this: discipline the soul the way you discipline the body. Practice faith the way you practice your craft. Show up for your spiritual life the way you show up for the things the world celebrates.

Because in the end, that’s the only success that lasts.

David Almgren – Two Pastors, Popcorn and a Movie Podcast

Aloha: What Happened to the Word?

| Faith and Family Flicks News and Notes

You hear it all the time. Hotel signs. Tourist brochures. People saying it as they leave. Aloha. Sounds nice, does it not? Feels Hawaiian. Feels warm.

But here is what I am wondering: do we actually know what we are saying when we say it?

Most people think Aloha is just hello and goodbye. It is a nice Hawaiian greeting. Pleasant. Breezy. And yeah, it is that. But that is like saying the ocean is just water. There is so much more beneath the surface that we have stopped looking at.

Let me ask you something. What if I told you that when Hawaiians greeted each other, they did not just exchange words? They came close. They pressed their foreheads together. And in that moment, they shared breath. They shared spirit. They acknowledged something sacred passing between them.

That’s Aloha.

Aloha means the spirit of life. It’s God’s breath. It’s manna, that vital spiritual force that connects us all. When two people said Aloha to each other, they weren’t just being polite. They were saying, I see the divine in you. I honor your essence. I’m sharing this sacred moment with you.

Think about that for a second. How different is that from what we do today?

Now, the Hawaiian Islands didn’t stay frozen in time. The world came. And with it came transformation. Early eighteen hundreds, a young Hawaiian named Henry Opukahaia—you might know him as Obookiah—he got taken from these islands. But eventually, he found his way to America, and something profound happened. He converted to Christianity. More than that, he started translating the Bible into Hawaiian. He was building a dictionary, a grammar, preserving the language in written form.

He died young. Only twenty-six. Never finished the work.

But here’s the thing, his death didn’t end it. It started something. The missionaries came. Faith spread across the islands. And over time, Christianity became woven so deeply into Hawaiian culture that it’s part of who Hawaiians are today. That’s Opukahaia’s legacy. That spiritual awakening he started, it’s still there, two hundred years later.

So we’ve got this interesting moment in Hawaiian history. Sacred spiritual practices meeting Christian faith. The written word preserving the language. Culture being transformed by spiritual revival.

And then what happened?

The islands opened up. Tourism arrived. And somewhere along the way, Aloha became a product.

You can see it everywhere now. Aloha shirts. Aloha candles. Resorts blasting ukulele music while people sip Mai Tais and say “Aloha” to each other like they’re ordering room service. It became a brand. A vibe. A aesthetic you can purchase.

And I think we lost something in that translation.

The word got so commercialized, so stripped down, that it became almost meaningless. People say it without thinking. They think they’re being warm, being Hawaiian, being spiritual. But the depth is gone. The sacred part. The breath-sharing, spirit-acknowledging part. It’s become just another word.

That’s the pattern, isn’t it? Sacred things become commodified. Deep spiritual meaning becomes a marketing slogan. Words that once meant something profound get flattened into something shallow.

But here’s what I want to suggest: knowing this doesn’t have to depress you. It can actually change how you live.

Because now, when you say Aloha, when you really mean it, you can choose to bring that depth back. You can remember what the word actually carries. You can acknowledge the spirit in someone else. You can honor that connection.

Henry Opukahaia gave the Hawaiian people the tools to preserve their language. To keep their words alive. That means we can still reach back and reclaim what Aloha really means. We don’t have to accept the diluted version.

So next time you say Aloha, maybe pause for a moment. Think about what you’re actually saying. You’re not just exchanging pleasantries. You’re invoking something sacred. The spirit of life. The breath of connection. The acknowledgment that we’re bound to each other by something way bigger than ourselves.

That’s always been what the word means.

Maybe it’s time we started remembering.

David Almgren – Two Pastors, Popcorn and a Movie Podcast

Are You a Thermometer or a Thermostat?

| Faith and Family Flicks News and Notes

We live in a world that is constantly trying to shape us. Pressures come from every direction, culture, circumstances, relationships, uncertainty—all of it working to pull us away from who we are meant to be. The question is not whether we will face these pressures. The question is, will we simply reflect them, or will we actively resist them?

Think about a thermometer and a thermostat. A thermometer is passive. It reads the temperature around it and displays what already exists. A thermostat, on the other hand, is active. It measures the environment, yes, but then it works to change it. It sets a standard and refuses to settle for anything less. In life, we’re constantly choosing between these two modes.

Most of us drift between them without even realizing it. Some days we’re thermometers, passively absorbing whatever our surroundings throw at us. We react to stress, negativity, doubt. We let circumstances dictate our mood, our choices, our direction. But other days—the better days—we become thermostats. We make deliberate choices that shape not just ourselves but the people and spaces around us.

The ancient proverb warns us about this drifting: “All we like sheep have gone astray.” There’s something in our nature that pulls us off course. We’re not naturally inclined to stay true. And there’s a spiritual principle here that’s worth understanding. There’s a phrase about sin that captures this perfectly: it will take you further than you want to go, make you pay more than you want to pay, and make you stay longer than you want to stay. Environment shapes behavior. What we take in influences what we give out. And if we’re not vigilant, we end up somewhere we never intended to be.

For those of us who follow Christ, there’s a framework for understanding this. Romans reminds us that we’ve all sinned and fallen short. But it also tells us about God’s gift of eternal life through Jesus. The key is recognizing that staying true isn’t something we do alone. It’s something we do in constant connection with our faith, our community, our spiritual practices.

Think of a carpenter’s plumb line. It’s a simple tool, a weight on a string—but it ensures that what’s being built is perfectly vertical, perfectly true. If you’re off by just a fraction at the beginning, by the time you’ve built several stories, you’re completely crooked. The same principle applies to our lives. Small deviations compound. A slight tilt to the right or left, ignored long enough, and you’re no longer heading toward your destination.

NASA understands this principle too. When a rocket launches toward the moon, if its trajectory is even slightly off in those first moments, it will miss the mark entirely. Space is vast and unforgiving. Precision matters from the very beginning.

During the pandemic, I experienced this firsthand. Anxiety and overwhelming uncertainty crept into my mind each day. The future felt unknowable. Fear wanted to be my constant companion. But I discovered something that became my anchor: Scripture. Promises from God’s Word. When I quoted those promises—when I reminded myself of my identity in Christ, of the certainty I have as a believer, I could take my eyes off the uncertain and fix them on something immovable. That practice of recalibration, of constantly returning to truth, saved me.

And here’s the thing: it wasn’t just a daily practice. Some days it was hourly. Some moments it was minute by minute. Staying true requires vigilance. It’s like flying an airplane. You can’t fall asleep at the controls. You can’t look away from your instruments. You have to be constantly aware of where you are, who you’re with, and whether you’re still on course.

Which brings me to the maps application on your phone. You punch in a destination, and the app guides you turn by turn. But the moment you deviate, the moment you turn left when it says turn right, the app doesn’t give up on you. It simply recalculates. “Recalibrating, recalibrating, recalibrating.” It keeps adjusting until you’re back on course. Sometimes the recalibrated route takes longer. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever arrive. But the alternative to following those recalibrations is getting completely lost.

That’s the spiritual reality too. Daily recalibration keeps us on point toward our destination. And what is our destination? To finish the race well. To serve the Lord with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. To refuse to become a casualty to a culture that wants to destroy us spiritually. To keep our eyes fixed on heaven.

The films “The Forge,” “Soul on Fire,” and “Woodlawn” each illustrate this truth in different ways. “The Forge” shows us the power of mentorship and discipleship, being shaped by someone further along the journey. “Soul on Fire,” based on Jon O’Leary’s remarkable true story, shows us something even more profound. O’Leary survived burns covering ninety-five percent of his body as a young boy. He could have been defined by tragedy. He could have let his circumstances be his thermostat, setting the temperature of his life at despair. Instead, he chose to be a thermostat himself. He rose above the pain, transformed his suffering into purpose, and now influences countless others through his resilience and faith. And “Woodlawn” shows us what it looks like to hold true north even when the world pressures you to compromise, to abandon your convictions for comfort or acceptance.

These aren’t just inspiring stories. They’re blueprints. They show us that recalibration is possible. That staying true is possible. That becoming a thermostat instead of a thermometer is a choice we can make, again and again, as many times as we need to.

Your spiritual practices matter: prayer, scripture reading, community, confession, accountability. These aren’t optional extras. They’re your instruments. They’re how you read your bearings and stay on course. And when you feel yourself drifting, and you will, these are how you recalibrate.

The choice is yours. Will you be shaped by your surroundings, or will you shape them? Will you drift with the current, or will you stay plumb? Will you ignore the re-calibration alerts, or will you trust them and adjust course? Every single day, and sometimes every single hour, you get to answer that question anew. and that’s the thermostat life: active, intentional, and fixed on true north.

David Almgren – Two Pastors, Popcorn and a Movie Podcast

A Story of Faith, Love, and Purpose: The Hudson Taylor Movie Moves Toward Theatrical Release

| Faith and Family Flicks News and Notes

For over a decade, a remarkable film project has been quietly taking shape, a cinematic telling of the life of missionary pioneer James Hudson Taylor. Now, after years of prayer, development, and creative collaboration, this inspiring true story is moving closer to production with plans for a theatrical release that will bring Taylor’s legacy to a new generation.

Who Was Hudson Taylor?

Hudson Taylor was a British Protestant missionary born in Yorkshire in 1832 whose influence on global mission work is unmatched. Driven by a compelling call to share the Gospel with those who had never heard it, he set sail for China in 1853 and dedicated more than 50 years of his life to missionary service there. At the heart of his ministry was a radical commitment to meaningful cultural connection, Taylor adopted Chinese clothing and customs, lived among the people he served, and sought to remove every barrier that might hinder the gospel.

In 1865, he founded the China Inland Mission (CIM), now known as OMF International, which would grow to send hundreds of missionaries across China, establishing churches, schools, and medical facilities. Taylor’s work not only reshaped missions in his era but inspired generations of evangelists and Christian workers globally.

From Vision to Film: A Long Journey

The idea of a film about Hudson Taylor began as a vision to bring his extraordinary life of faith, sacrifice, and cultural love to the screen. Half Crown Media, a non‑profit film initiative commissioned by OMF International, was created in 2012 with the explicit mission of telling “inspirational, true stories of God’s faithfulness,” beginning with Taylor’s life story.

After years of development, the project has now reached critical milestones. A compelling screenplay that captures not just Taylor’s historic achievements but the depth of his relationship with God, his wife Maria, and the Chinese people has been completed with the help of seasoned collaborators. As Half Crown Media reports, Christian producer Aaron Burns brought his filmmaking expertise to the team, helping guide the development phase and refine the story’s structure. Writer Matt Mikalatos, noted for his gifts in storytelling, crafted the engaging feature‑length script that brings life to Hudson and Maria’s journey and their deep connections with the people of China.

What’s Next for the Movie?

According to Half Crown Media’s most recent updates, the project has secured significant funding and cleared major logistical and legal groundwork for production. The script has undergone careful refinement, and the team is now finalizing production details such as the director, lead cast, and shooting locations, with a particular emphasis on authenticity, cultural respect, and historical accuracy.

The Goal is Clear . . .

the Hudson Taylor movie will not only tell a powerful historical story but also serve as an inspirational catalyst for today’s audiences, encouraging viewers, especially younger generations, to reflect on their own faith, purpose, and impact in the world.

Why This Story Matters Today

More than a biographical drama, this film seeks to bridge cultural gaps and illuminate timeless truths about love, sacrifice, and devotion to a purpose greater than oneself. Taylor’s life was marked by resilience in the face of adversity, from political unrest and dangerous travel to profound personal losses — yet his faith never wavered. His belief that “God’s work done in God’s way will never lack God’s supply” reflects not just a personal motto but a guiding principle for the film team as well.

As Half Crown Media puts it, this project is as much about inspiring mission and discipleship as it is about historical storytelling. The narrative is designed to resonate with believers and seekers alike, highlighting how ordinary people, yielded to God, can accomplish extraordinary things.

Join the Journey

The Hudson Taylor movie is now in the final stages of preparation for production, with filming expected to begin soon and plans underway for a global theatrical release. Whether you are passionate about history, global missions, or inspirational storytelling, this film promises to be a moving tribute to a life lived with purpose and faith.

Stay tuned as we continue to share updates, including casting announcements, production milestones, and release information. This is not just a film … it’s a story with the potential to shape hearts and inspire generations.

David Almgren – Two Pastors, Popcorn and a Movie Podcast