After several years of sitting under the incessant mantra of “stay safe,” it was a refreshing juxtaposition to revisit the cinematic sights and sounds (in glorious AVX) of life in the Danger Zone.
Throughout Top Gun: Maverick, I found myself with a visceral longing that was equal parts sadness and hope. Sadness for what we have lost as a culture — hope for what Christians might yet recover. Namely, masculinity as the assumption of sacrificial responsibility for the good of others and the glory of God.
In other words — the recovery of men who are willing to take risks.
Embracing Risk
Maverick is played by Tom Cruise — a man who, though not without his flaws, seems to embody the priorities of the character he plays: ambitious, highly skilled in a variety of disciplines, and one who seems to gravitate towards danger-filled activities. Cruise is well-known for his dangerous stunts, such as leaping across buildings or driving vehicles at high speeds while performing dangerous manoeuvres.
And, of course, flying fighter jets.
The iconic opening scene once again features inspiring, real-life footage of jets taking off from aircraft carriers. Fittingly, the whole scene is set to “Danger Zone,” — a song commending not only the acceptance, but the celebration of danger. For those unaware, working on an aircraft crew is one of the most dangerous activities that a human being can engage in, and requires the highest levels of competence, focus, and execution. I remember my dad explaining the various risk-factors involved, such as the incredibly short length of runway and the fact that it is constantly moving. As he spoke, I recall the prospect of such danger inspired, rather than deterred, my boyhood dreams of being a pilot.
The amazing technology of modern fighter jets is itself a product of the willing embrace of danger for the greater good. In a moment which exemplifies the ethos of the film and its characters, Maverick expresses his willingness to take the risk of testing a new technology so that others might not have to.
Lest I appear to be commending recklessness here, let me offer some clarification. It would be wrong to equate appropriate risk with recklessness; the two are not the same. The acceptance of the dangers of life in a fallen world doesn’t mean we give zero consideration as to the costs of our actions. Rather, a righteous embrace of risks simply means that we serve our neighbors and our God with a sober awareness of the potential costs.
The Reality of Danger in a Decaying World
A Christian worldview recognizes that the created world groans for a release from its slavery to death and decay (cf. Rom 8). While we labour to protect others, however, we don’t for a moment give into the vain illusion that this world will be rid of all risk until the resurrection of the dead. Danger and risk in a world such as ours is unavoidable.
A Christian, then, looks for hope and salvation in the only place it can be found: the Lord Jesus Christ. Our salvation comes not from possessing God-like power to rid the cosmos of all danger (here’s looking at you, Marvel). Rather, it comes from trusting the God-man, whose death for our sins was sufficient to rescue us from destruction.
We will one day enjoy a world free from danger. But that day is not today.
As our culture continues to reject Christ, we are witnessing the inevitability of it falling back on a pagan view of the world; a world filled with fear and the constant clamor for control. While these attempts at control were once exercised through various forms of sacrifice, we see it now evident in the increasing politicization of “science.” In both instances, salvation lies not in Christ but in dominating others.
In a fear-filled world, safety — not glory — becomes the highest aim. Compliance to those in control, not the obedience of faith, becomes the path to arrive there.
This seemingly unlimited obedience to authority “for our good and safety,” must be assessed more critically. Such confidence seems more a symptom of unbelief and idolatry rather than virtue.
A Better Confidence
The human proclivity to seek from man what can only be found in God is as old as the Fall itself. The psalmist writes,
“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. They collapse and fall, but we rise and stand upright.” (Psalm 20:7–8, ESV)
The chariot, as my Old Testament Professor once said, was akin to a modern battle tank. It represented military might, and thus, protection. The temptation for humans then — as now — was to trust in the might of one’s military rather than in the name of the Lord.
In the shadow of the Assyrian threat, for example, God’s people sought protection from the greatest human power they knew:
“Ah, stubborn children,” declares the Lord, “who carry out a plan, but not mine, and who make an alliance, but not of my Spirit, that they may add sin to sin; who set out to go down to Egypt, without asking for my direction, to take refuge in the protection of Pharaoh and to seek shelter in the shadow of Egypt!” (Isaiah 30:1–2)
This was not commended as a wise plan, but a foolish and sinful one:
“Therefore shall the protection of Pharaoh turn to your shame, and the shelter in the shadow of Egypt to your humiliation.” (Isaiah 30:3)
Israel’s fundamental problem was misplaced trust. Yes, the Egyptians were strong, but they were not God. They too were flesh and blood, and themselves susceptible to the same dangers which faced Israel:
“The Egyptians are man, and not God, and their horses are flesh, and not spirit. When the Lord stretches out his hand, the helper will stumble, and he who is helped will fall, and they will all perish together.” (Isaiah 31:3)
Another symptom of unbelief in the face of danger is the attempt to willfully deny its existence:
“For they are a rebellious people, lying children, children unwilling to hear the instruction of the Lord; who say to the seers, “Do not see,” and to the prophets, “Do not prophesy to us what is right; speak to us smooth things, prophesy illusions,” (Isaiah 30:9-10).
If seeking refuge from danger in human strength is vain, trying to deny such danger even exists is an equally foolish strategy. Yet we do exactly this when we listen to those who attempt to calm our hearts with the illusion of their indomitable refuge. In claiming to possess such power, secular authorities are essentially putting themselves in the place of God. Sadly, these empty promises are eagerly embraced by fearful people who are only too eager to offer servitude to these false saviours.
Godly men must be able to discern this age-old power play and refuse to comply with their idolatrous claims.
Reality according to the Bible is that because of sin, the entire world is now a danger zone. Our determination to escape risk through control, or in willfully denying danger, inescapably leads to disobedience.
Egypt will always seek to lure us with her chariots (or lockdowns, or masks), but our hope is in the name of the Lord.
The High Risk of High Competence
Another observation I had while watching the film was that competence and mastery in any skill requires risk. Though not many of us will enroll in an elite flight school like Top Gun, we’ve all been given the task of dominion (cf. Gen 1:28), which requires us to develop our skills and exercise our strengths to the glory of God.
Every pursuit of excellence involves the risk of failure. This is true whether you’re honing your skills as a fighter pilot or trying out a new recipe. It is no coincidence that in an age of risk-aversion we are also seeing a rapid decline in skilled tradesman. We cannot stigmatize risk and failure, and still expect to produce skilled men.
We reap what we sow.
Top Gun presents an obvious risk; the potential consequences of failure are ultimate. But enrolling in such a progam is a necessary sacrifice in the pursuit of excellence as a fighter pilot. To attempt to arrive at excellence some other way (away from risk) is to be disqualified.
Make no mistake, craft-competence is still necessary in a world filled with unimaginable technology. Though technology is a tool to use towards our God-given task of dominion, it must be wielded by the hands of virtuous and competent men. It is not a replacement for duty, but an aid towards the realization of it.
As Maverick would remind us, “It’s the pilot, not the plane.”
My twin brother is a heavy equipment technician and a master of his craft. I can remember the phrase “lefty loosey, righty tighty,” which isn’t nothing, but the differences between our mechanical abilities are stark. I have often told people that this difference isn’t mainly owing to the divergent academic paths we took in high-school. Rather, the crucial contributing factor to his mastery of this particular skills (and my own failure to do so) is owing to our respective willingness to accept risk and failure.
For example, my brother took apart a truck in high school in order to rebuild it from the ground up. Everyone, including his shop teacher, thought he was nuts; and he may have been. But he was willing to accept the very real risk of failure in order to pursue the knowledge and skills he was after (as well as a pretty cool rig for a high school student). The result of his willingness to assume the risk of failure was an exponential leap in his competence with machines.
As humans, we have been given the task of taking dominion over all the earth. This involves, amongst other things, using all the gifts we have been given in the service of others, to the glory of God (1 Cor 10:31). It requires that we work at everything “as unto the Lord”(cf. Col 3:23).
Among other things, this means doing all that we do with the greatest skill we can offer.
Dominion, Danger, and Delight
So, if taking dominion involves mastery, and mastery involves risk, then — doesn’t that mean dominion is dangerous? Correct!
I left the theatre longing for a dangerous mission and the desire to give myself to the risk-filled mastery of whatever meagre gifts God has given me. I’m too old (and fat, and blind, and deaf) to join the navy. But while there is breath in my recovering lungs, I still bear the duty and glory of an image bearer, the responsibility to live under His rule, and the priviledge to rule over creation in His name.
The only way we can faithfully engage in this mission is if we accept the risks of the road we must travel. Not try to forsee the obstacles we must avoid. Our culture’s present risk-aversion is nothing less than unbelief, and an obstacle to fulfilling the God-given task at hand. I fear we have emasculated our fuure-men by conditioning them to avoid and resent risk.
In a world that has adopted safety as its highest aim — and has judged those who would embrace danger and risk to be immoral — Top Gun offers a more compelling vision. This is owing to its congruence with Scripture and reality (we do not accept the moral qualifications of Hollywood as our guide). The greatest good comes often with the greatest risk. Virtue is developed and displayed not as we vainly attempt to control every risk, but as we willingly embrace the cost of pursuing what is Good, True, and Beautiful in a world gone rogue.
Here’s praying for more fathers who will inspire their sons with danger, preparing them for their risk-filled duty to their people and their God.
I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to feel the need . . . the need for speed.