Welcome to The Narrow Frame

As far back as I can remember, I've loved movies.

Everyone has their “thing -” that is, we all have at least one hobby that we’re absolutely, ridiculously, perhaps even borderline-obsessively GONZO about. You know what it is: it’s that thing that you can spend hours gabbing about, boring your friends with endless random trivia and unsolicited analysis. For some of you, it’s sports; for others, it’s painting, or baking, or bike riding.

For me, my “thing” has always been film. In fact, some of my earliest memories are of sitting plunked down in front of our family’s television, voraciously rewatching our VHS copies of “Beauty in the Beast,” “101 Dalmatians,” and “Jurassic Park” (to the point where the film in the cassettes wore out and snapped – I wish I was joking).

Even nowadays, when my mind drifts during the day, it usually tends to fall back into thoughts that are movie-centric: what new release there is to be excited about that weekend, breaking apart a film’s deeper meanings, how a certain movie is tracking box-office-wise, could Rose have made room for Jack on that door… (spoiler: the answer is 100% yes). For most of my 35 years, film was the singular thing around which the gravity of my entire life circulated…and it was something that I was more than happy to let wear that crown.

However, as time went on, something shifted, and I gradually began to slowly view film differently: not merely as a source for my own escapist pleasure, but as a mirror into something bigger and deeper than myself.

Something spiritual.

And in fact, ironically enough, it was actually THROUGH film that I was able to encounter something that I loved more than even it.

But let me rewind a bit.

My testimony:

A little personal background on me: I was born in the Midwest (Iowa, represent!) and raised in a strong Christian household by two parents who loved Jesus deeply and modeled His grace and truth to my brother and I every day. Throughout my youth, they “encouraged” (i.e. required) us to attend small group on Wednesdays and Sundays, build healthy friendships with other believers, and stay committed to our studies—all of which provided me a solid, structured, values-based upbringing.

Throughout those formative years, my love of film only grew– I can distinctly remember spending hours each weekend, pouring through reviews by critics like Roger Ebert, Peter Travers, and James Berardinelli of literally every movie imaginable (my parents, it should be noted, were a bit more on the “strict” side when it came to my younger brother and I’s media consumption – with few exceptions, R-rated movies were a strict no-go, which meant that I had to settle for the next best thing: criticism/analysis).

Eventually, after high school, I wound up at a small Christian college in Indiana, which itself was safe, faith-centered, and grounded in biblical teaching…and, just like at home, they had a strict no R-rated movies policy on-campus. However, these restrictions might have inadvertently worked in my favor: through college, I was focused, got good grades, and was driven to excel academically rather than spend countless hours lost in movies. Even in grad school, I managed to stick to the responsible path, focusing on career goals and paving a path to my future.

By all appearances, I was doing things “right.” I checked all the boxes. I worked hard. I was driven and on track to a seemingly successful life. But deep down, something vital was missing, something only I could sense, and something that, if I’m honest, I tried to ignore. Despite all the positive influences, despite my loving upbringing, despite my outward image of faithfulness, somewhere along the way, I’d neglected the most important thing:

I had never cultivated my own personal relationship with Jesus.

Instead, I had, for most of my life, been content to inherit the faith of those around me—borrowing belief rather than building it for myself. I had gone to church every Sunday, I had memorized verses, led prayers, even attended a Christian college, for crying out loud…but I’d never actually taken the time to get to know Jesus.

And honestly? I didn’t really care to. I had passions – film, writing, traveling. I had dreams of a big, grand future, one filled with sure-to-come success, recognition, and fulfillment. I had huge ambitions and a concrete plan for how to achieve them. What did I need Jesus for? I had more than enough to fill my life in the present… and the future? Well, that was literally an endless highway, one filled with tantalizing possibilities just waiting to be seized.

As I got older, the allure of the unknown began calling to me. Having grown up in a relatively sheltered environment, I often wondered what life would look like if I could just do things my way—to live how I wanted, spend my money how I pleased, date and befriend who I wanted to date and befriend, watch literally any movie I wanted without guilt or restriction, and chase the kind of freedom I thought limitless, unchecked adulthood promised. That idea—of unrestrained independence, of AUTONOMY—was exhilarating to me. And I couldn’t wait to pursue it.

It was a dangerous road, and I didn’t even realize it. Not until everything fell apart.

That specific moment began in August 2015, when I accepted a job offer in West DFW, near Fort Worth. I remember the thrill of stepping into this new chapter—new city, new life – but all on MY terms. Finally, I thought. This is it. I’d have freedom. I’d have fun. I’d have fulfillment. For over 25 years, I had imagined this moment as the beginning of “real life.” I had been so good, so responsible, for so long…and now, it was time to live FOR ME.

But life has a way of humbling us. And God—faithful, kind, and wise—had other plans.

Within a year, I was miserable - DEEPLY miserable. The job was isolating. The city felt foreign and strange. I was far from family and completely without any sense of community. I wasn’t going to church, and I couldn’t even remember the last time I visited. The future I once longed for had become a lonely, aimless present. And worst of all, the things I thought would fulfill me—freedom, autonomy, self-direction—had instead left me empty, anxious, and depressed. Even my love for film – the thing that had always brought me happiness, that had always inspired and motivated me – was no longer a joyful escape, but instead, had gradually transformed into just another sad mirror, reflecting back the loneliness and isolation that had taken root within me.

On a Sunday night – specifically, September 4, 2016 - I finally broke. I remember everything about that night vividly: staring down another week of a job I dreaded, in a city I didn’t connect with, feeling utterly lost and alone. I tried watching a movie to distract myself, but it didn’t work; instead, I only felt even more numb than before. I remember thinking, “If even film – the thing that I literally love more than anything else, the thing that has always been such a comfort in tough times – can’t heal this pain, what do I have left? What hope do I have?” 

Panic soon set in; I remember having an absolute emotional breakdown, as I took stock of my situation and the fact that my dream life had, quite literally, turned into a waking nightmare. In a moment of complete desperation, my knees hit the floor and I talked directly to God, one on one, for the first time in years, the words pouring out of me:

“Lord…I’m not doing well. I can’t keep going like this, and I don’t think I’m going to make it. And I really need Your help…if You’re willing.”

It’s funny: some people describe hearing the voice of God as a voice or a whisper, spoken audibly in their ear; others describe it as a feeling, laid on their hearts. For me, that night, His voice came in the form of a sudden, unmistakable thought, one that cut through all of the noise, crystal clear and undeniable:

“You need to get plugged into church community.”

Full confession: I really, REALLY didn’t want to do that. For one thing, the idea of stepping alone into any new environment, let alone a new church, absolutely terrified me. For another thing, I was prideful, and despite the absolute misery of my present conditions, my sinful nature still sought another way out, another way to happiness and fulfillment, separate from Christ. “God,” I remember thinking, “I’ve done the church thing. I’ve always done the church thing. Can’t I figure this out some other way? There’s GOTTA be another way, God…come on, just show me that other way, and I’ll do it! Whatever you want!”

(Spoiler alert: I may or may not have been acting like a total punk in that moment.)

But God, in His mercy, was patient. And persistent. That thought wouldn’t leave me. The tug grew stronger, and stronger —until eventually, after much arguing and excuse-making, I finally, very frustratedly, gave in.

“Fine, God,” I grumbled. “I’ll try. I’ll visit a church. I’ll join a community group. But you better show up in all of this, because I’m not thrilled about it.”

(Again…real major punk energy.)

So, I did some research, found a church in Fort Worth that looked solid, and joined a community group of guys around my age. I went into that group with a bad attitude and zero expectations or hopes…but what happened next literally changed EVERYTHING.

Within weeks, literally instantaneously, my life began to shift in ways I hadn’t thought possible.

First off, I suddenly had friends – a community of brothers who genuinely cared and sought to do life together. Rather than merely retreating into myself and watching movies alone every night, now, I had guys to venture out, hang, and laugh with. As much as I loved film – and I still did – I had experienced a life-altering truth: that not even my “thing” could provide the same kind of joy and fulfillment that a loving community did.

But the transformation went even deeper and better than that.

Aside from just having new friendships in my life, it was the underlying power of Christian community—real, honest, and imperfect—that proved truly earth-shattering. Harrison, Chris, Tanner, Dan, Collin…these were guys who, like me, had grown up in Christian households, had been raised in the faith, and had all, at one point or another, drifted. But now? They were serious about following Jesus, about giving up control and giving their lives to Him. They pursued integrity, practiced vulnerability, and kept Christ at the center of their lives.

Through their friendship and encouragement, I became intrigued about what that kind of authentic faith looked like. And very slowly, I began to follow their example. Bit by bit, the things that I had put at the center of my life for over two decades – film, ambition, self-image – began to fall away, replaced by a genuine relationship with Christ. In essence, I began to truly experience what it means to have Him at the center of your life, rather than merely just acknowledging His presence on the periphery.

That moment on September 4, 2016, was the beginning of something new – I just didn’t realize it. As I gave up control, stopped prioritizing things that were “me-centric,” and started listening to God and what He wanted for my life, things began to fall into place, oftentimes seemingly supernaturally, over the ensuing years. Career opportunities opened up in unexpected (and what should have been impossible) ways. I found purpose in everyday moments. I discovered that I didn’t just live in Texas, but I LOVED it, and in fact, came to view it as my home. Even film – the thing that I had once literally worshipped above everything else – shifted in nature before my eyes, going from something that had merely existed as a funnel for self-focused escape and entertainment into, instead, an incredible conduit through which I began to directly glimpse God’s creative nature and hear His voice.

The more I surrendered control, the more I found peace, in my circumstances, in my calling, and in my soul. The more I leaned on Christ, the more I discovered joy. The life I thought I had to build on my own, God was building for me with more grace, more beauty, and more purpose than I ever could’ve imagined. It was like my life had gone “Super Saiyan”: all of the pieces were the same, but each day, they became more vibrant, joyful, and alive, as they were refined by Him and His personal “touch.”

Looking back now, I can clearly see that God wasn't just waiting idly by for me to get my act together, but rather, He was actively working to reframe how I saw the world and helping me to understand exactly what my purpose for existence was. For the majority of my life, I had sought to do only one thing: to elevate and glorify myself. But finally, after years of trying to get my attention, God had broken through to me. And the things that I I had elevated above Him - namely film - He ended up actively USING as a direct means of reaching me.

It was an amazing reversal, one that I still marvel at to this day. It also got me thinking: in a day and age where it's so easy to fall into the temptation to live for ourselves and pursue things other than Him, is there something to be said for bringing God into our passions - in making Him the center of the things we love, whatever our "thing" is, and allowing Him to use those very passions to guide us along the purposes He has for our lives?

What would that look like?

Introducing: The Narrow Frame:

All of this brings me to the present, this site, and my hope/prayer for what it might represent.

If you’re reading this, it’s likely that you are, like me, a.) a Christian, and b.) a fellow movie lover. At the moment, there aren’t many places for us to congregate: while certain faith-based sites do a great job of breaking films down by their content and/or spiritual issues, in terms of spots that actually facilitate conversation, the online landscape is sparse and has been for quite a while.

My prayer for this site is that it can essentially “fill a hole,” acting as a hub where Christian film lovers can come to hang out, talk the latest movies, and perhaps even discuss what we see as the deeper spiritual threads that God is weaving through the movies we watch. The broad goal of this site isn’t to judge or condemn, but to actively explore how our faith intersects with the films that we take in, often in meaningful, redemptive and – let’s face it – messy ways.

But I also hope that we can go a bit deeper than that. Because film, as awesome as it is – and indeed, it is very awesome – isn’t the end all, be all of our lives. It’s a gift from God, a reflection of something greater, a narrow frame into God’s boundless creativity and glory.

If you take away literally nothing else from this post, please hear this: no matter where you are in your own personal faith journey, you matter deeply to Him. God loves YOU, and He specifically designed you in a fearful and wonderful way – and that design includes your love for film.

So my recommendation? Lean into that love. Don’t downplay it. Instead, celebrate the intentional design that God gave you. Actively cultivate it, make friends who have the same passion as you, debate and discuss everything you watch and think deeply on what you feel like God is trying to tell you through it. God made us to live for Him…and I believe that one of the best ways that we can do that is by glorifying Him through the things we love most by consciously letting Him use our passions for His amazing plans.

Because let’s face it: life is so much better when we put God at the center of it, in ALL aspects. Colossians 3:17 literally says “And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.” When we apply our individual “things” towards God’s glory – rather than ourselves – they become acts of worship, instead of merely self-gratification.

I’m sure that a lot of you have had similar journeys as I have, and I’m so excited to engage with you, hear your stories, and do life together, all while celebrating and nerding out over the latest movies and the ways we hear God speaking to us through them.

So let’s dive in together. I’m jazzed that you’re here.

Ben Brown

10/21/2025