Soundtrack music runs the gamut between trite and smarmy all the way to powerful and moving. There are few times in recent memory when I have been as haunted by a piece of soundtrack writing as I was by Jamie Collum’s theme to Clint Eastwood’s Golden Globe nominated film Gran Torino.
 

The movie follows the last days of Walt Kowalski, a deeply embittered cynical racist of a man who at the very last finds a measure of redemption in sacrificing for the lives of a Vietnamese family living next door. Eastwood’s writing and portrayal of Kowalski paints a picture of a man impenetrably disillusioned with life. Collum’s lyric is every bit as pessimistic as Kowalski’s half-drunk grumpiness:
 
Realign all the stars above my head
Warning signs travel far
I drink instead on my own Oh! how I've known
the battle scars and worn out beds.

Kowalski’s only glimmer of joy comes when sitting behind the wheel of his meticulously manicured ’72 Gran Torino. It’s a shallow comfort for the man who has lost so much and had so little in which to rejoice:

Gentle now the tender breeze blows
whispers through my Gran Torino
whistling another tired song.

Historically speaking, one of the finest marks of Christian discipleship remains a redeemed man’s willingness to go where angels fear to tread. From rescuing citizens of a dying European Empire from The Black Plague to racing to the Gulf Coast to bring relief to Katrina victims, Christians are at their best when they boldly march into the chaos armed with at least a ministry of presence and at most wonderful words of life.
 
In Walt Kowalski’s heart we see the incurable cynicism of a life wasted and imprisoned by a faceless inevitability that colors every day with a sigh. Should not Christians also be willing to venture into these treacherous waters to feel, to some degree, the heartache of such a life? Is it not the least we can do to visit these places in our own hearts so that we can sympathize with the grief of a Godless life?
 
Towards the end of the song, Collum quiets his voice to a whispering croak before crying out:

May I be so bold and stay
I need someone to hold
that shudders my skin.

Perhaps the embrace that brings a shudder of hope or a repentant tear is mine to give today as the tangible evidence of Christ’s power to soften the hardened leather of ever-breaking hearts.