A few months ago, I wrote the following about The Wrestler, starring Mickey Rourke: "I thought that Ram could be saved. I hoped, urged, cheered, and longed for his deteriorating character to embrace the hope of reunion with his daughter Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood) or the promise of a new life with the aging stripper Cassidy (Marisa Tomei). But sometimes, in the end, we are who we are and we just can't change." I watched the film again recently, hoping that I could find an ounce of hope more to share, that this film about the desperation of our lives might bleed something worth holding onto; yet in the end, my first glance was right.

Ram gets warning after warning, chance after chance. He's like Jim Carrey's character in Bruce Almighty, crying out for a sign, a signal, a message... and swearing he's not getting one, while the street lights, dump trucks, cell phones, and natural disasters all point to the One Creator of the Universe trying to contact him. Ram's life is in shambles; he claims to want it to be better than he is, but he's not just screwing his own life up, he's leading others astray, too.

Violence, drugs, and lies are all that Ram knows. He's manipulating his own body while he's playing fire with his own soul. Stephanie and Cassidy try to draw him back but he'll have none of it; doctors warn him, and he ignores them. But the pull of the ring, the draw of his own pride being stroked by his "fans" makes him do stupid, dangerous things, believing with much bravado that he'll never have to pay the price.

Of course, the heart attack is the thing you hope will bring him back. It's painful enough to watch Ram get beaten to a pulp inside the ring, but I figure that's because I'm no WWE or boxing fan. But watching what he does to himself outside of the ring is like watching The Celebrity Apprentice early this season, as Dennis Rodman drank himself into oblivion on national television. Finally, Donald Trump had enough and kicked Rodman off of the show, but there's no one who can turn the spotlight off of Ram, so he keeps initiating the downward spiral.

I wrote after seeing the film the first time that I am like Ram:

dragged down by my own worries and struggles, I long for healing and joy in my own life, but I can't find it on my own. Thankfully, that's where Jesus comes in. Setting aside his own glory, Jesus provides me a way to be healed and fulfilled, reunited with the presence of God lost in the Fall. Jesus helps me fight the call of "the ring," my addiction to various self-destructive desires, and my inability to form relationships built on love and trust. No, more strongly, Jesus fights those battles for me.

And I still think that's where we can learn from The Wrestler.

This isn't like watching Married With Children and going, "Wow, I know I don't have it that bad! Thank goodness I'm not the Bundys." No, this is about recognizing that we all slide into self-destruction, that we all think we need whatever lies are being thrown at us: the thrill of attention, the lust for success, the desire for something or someone that isn't ours. When we can recognize that deception in our own lives, we can see who we are and who we're called to be. And it's our responsibility to admit when we've done wrong, and help others find the love of Jesus as a result.

We don't have to enter the ring. We don't have to fight this one out or suffer the blows. There's a better way, a brighter way, filled with hope and a future. It's time to admit we're broken and that we need help. Let's "tap out" before we're in over our heads.