Bruce Lee and Why it’s Always About Jesus

“Don’t think – feel! It is like a finger, pointing away to the moon. Don’t concentrate on the finger or you’ll miss all the heavenly glory.”
And so Bruce Lee introduced an entire generation to Eastern philosophy. That and lots of awesome Kung Fu.
I remember thinking, when watching Enter the Dragon as an 8-year-old, how awesome it would be to fight like that. To do a 360 backflip, kick a man on the chin and then land in exactly the same position without breaking a sweat… I’d be the toast of my street, my school, the entire town.
I never did think much of the whole finger-pointing-at-the-moon thing though.
Wait, that’s not entirely true. I remember thinking it sounded profound. Like something wise and maybe even true. But not enough to move me in a deep, philosophical way. Prepubescent boys in 1980s England were far more interested in Star Wars, karate, and quoting movie lines than pondering deep Zen mysteries, it must be said.
But of course, as a grown-up whose head is now crammed with an overabundance of cinematic one-liners, I often find myself pondering the profundity of such statements.
This thing about fingers pointing to the moon, it certainly does sound intense. I’m a stickler for good anecdotes and truth pictures, so I find myself trying to decipher Mr. Lee’s teaching, particularly in my context as a Christian.
Could it mean it’s dangerous to focus and obsess over a pastor instead of the Christ he proclaims? I can agree with that. Modern consumerist Evangelicalism is the perfect petri dish for this kind of superstar pastor hero worship. Have you heard so-and-so’s podcast? Have you read his latest book? Do you subscribe to his blog? Do you follow him on Twitter? You gonna catch him at next year’s so-and-so uber-conference? He’s just so awesome!
Sure we can and should love our pastors. And it’s OK to have Christian heroes to look up to and emulate (I have plenty). But things go awry the moment we admire the pastor in exchange for the Jesus he’s preaching (if, indeed, he preaches Jesus at all).
In this age of nifty digital content, slick video, and even slicker websites, it’s easy to idolize the messenger while overlooking the Message.
Could Bruce Lee have referred to revelation? Could the “pointing finger” be the stuff about God, the theology, the right doctrine, the ideas and truths that show us who God is?
If so, I say “concentrate on the finger!” Theology, the study of God, allows us to see, understand, and revel in the glory of our Maker. To think that doctrine and “the deep mysteries of God” somehow distract from the awesomeness of God is a falsehood. We study to know, to plumb the depths of His knowledge, to drink deep the pure waters of His revelation in order to celebrate Him, to be refreshed, instructed, rebuked, and grounded in God.
To NOT study about God is to gaze into heaven, ignorant.
This is important, as Jesus is the ultimate “finger” that points us to God. “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father,” He told Philip in the upper room (John 14:9). If we set our gaze on Jesus, if we seek to know Him intimately, we get a fuller, clearer, and richer understanding of our Creator.
More importantly, Jesus is the only way to be reconciled to the Father (John 14:6). If we want to know this righteous and holy God, if we want to be hoisted from our sinful quagmire and restored to Him, we need to focus on Jesus, the very revelation of God, who gave his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:45).
To not focus on Jesus, to sort of throw our hands up and assume that God is too nebulous to properly grasp (which is what a lot of Christians actually believe these days) is dangerous for the soul, to say the least.
Of course, Master Lee had neither of these things in mind. He was simply telling his student to not overthink Kung Fu. According to Lee, the act of raising your leg and kicking someone 4 feet into the air was simply a wonderful thing to bask in – to feel – rather than to analyze and figure out.
So actually it’s not as mysterious as it sounds. But I thank Lee for pointing me to Jesus.
The Great Outlook/Gmail SMTP Fix
For anyone who’s had trouble setting up an Outlook 2007 email account, I have some great news: I’ve cracked the code.
Well, my wife did actually, and before anything else I’d like to sing her praises.
You see, I’m like a knight out of Army of Darkness (the best of the Evil Dead trilogy, won’t you agree?) The car falls out of the sky and I attack it with my sword thinking it’s some kind of iron dragon.
Meanwhile, my wife is Bruce Campbell’s Ash, the self-sufficient technomaniac who can make a mechanical hand out of metal. She’s watching me freak out because Outlook 2007, my personal iron dragon, refuses to send email to anyone outside my company (although it has no qualms about receiving email from anywhere).
So I’m sat here, jabbing at Outlook like it’s the most alien thing in the world, and my wife finally decides to give me the time of day. At this point I’ve done everything I can to make Outlook work (haha, joke’s on me). I’ve even tried configuring Outlook to use my ISP’s smtp, in this case the smtp of PLDT MyDSL. I feel like I’ve accomplished something, but it’s still all funky. So the wife steps in.
She shows me it’s not rocket science by doing some quick online research and finding Gmail’s smtp. She then follows the instructions on how to configure Outlook and boom, we’re all set. What took me a couple of days to agonize over took her less than 5 minutes to resolve.
I do a test email, witness magic, and say something about how rich we’d be if my wife charged inordinate amounts of money as a tech consultant to hapless guys like me, of which I’m sure there are thousands.
So fellow Outlook 2007 users-who-don’t-have-it-in-you-to-do-some-simple-research-and-follow-clear-instructions, don’t despair. If keying in your local ISP’s smtp still doesn’t let you send emails, using Gmail’s smtp is a brilliant alternative.
And if you’re a fan of the Evil Dead Trilogy, Sam Raimi’s got some good ol’ horror coming our way this May.


Writer, designer, father of two, husband of one. Armchair theologian. Inconsistent blogger and photographer. Still, I try.
