Taken

I saw the movie "Taken" starring Liam Neeson and Maggie Grace...twice now.

It's about a father who's retired and relocated to be close to his 17-year-old daughter, Kim, who now lives with her mom and step-dad. Despite Dad's misgivings and warnings, Kim goes to France with a friend and ends up getting "taken" by men who sell her into a prostitution ring. Her dad happens to be talking to her on the phone when she's suddenly captured, and the rest of the movie details his quest to hunt down her abductors and rescue his daughter. Even with a PG13 rating, it's not easy material to swallow. But it also drew me back a second time because it reminded me of something. Something familiar. Something personal...something...

...Another story about a Father of a foolish child who's captured by an enemy and drawn into impossible doom. Except this child has a sick attachment to the pain and crime even though it's destroying her. Like Kim, she seems more interested in what the father can do for her than in the father himself; she gets angry and pouty when the father won't let her do what she wants, and explodes with joy, kisses, and "I love you!"s when he gives his permission. The father in the movie can take care of himself and leaves innumerable dead criminals in his wake; the Father in the other story can take care of Himself, too, but makes Himself the ransom...and pays it--with great pain and personal expense--because it is the only way to get his child back...and take away her desire for what's killing her.

The movie is about Kim and her dad. The other story is about me and mine. Not my dad, but God, my Father who gave Himself to pay MY ransom and rescue me from the slavery of sin I would never escape unless He paid for me.