Polycarp Movie Review

Friends of ours offered to let us borrow Polycarp, and we gladly accepted.

The movie, while using a very limited budget, was more thought-provoking and effective than most high-budget, secular-made movies.

The story revolved around a young girl named Anna, a former slave.  She is bought by the kind-hearted and God-fearing Polycarp, who gives her freedom.  Anna becomes the charge of a couple, and she starts to feel like family among them all.  Germanicus is a young man who, like a brother, works along-side Anna.  Anna hears new and startling doctrines, of one God, not many.  She asks questions of her new family, and they answer with patience and joy.

But not all is joyous.  The Roman government is trying to quell the Christians.  And on the day of testing, will Polycarp stand for the truth of Jesus?  Will Germanicus?  And how will the persecution of Christians affect Anna? . . .

Some of the acting in this movie was not the very best, but Polycarp's (or rather, Garry Nation's) was good, as were Germanicus's (Dusty Martin's, who played on Courageous) and Anna's (Eliyah Hurt), most of the time.  In any case, I was moved to tears many times.  How would my faith hold up under fire?

It is made for the entire family to watch, with nothing graphic, though the themes are somewhat deep and possibly scary.  Based on the real lives of Polycarp and Germanicus, your family should find this film inspiring.

Bravo, young filmmakers, Joe and Jerica Henline!  They had a lot of help, of course, as you can see in the behind the scenes documentary, but they are still impressively gifted.  Most of all, the message shines through in this movie, the message of courage among fear, faith beyond failure, and the love of God, which casts out fear.

The Two Margarets

Some of the details in this poem were imagined by me, such as the bread and water verse, but most of it is factual.

The Two Margarets
by Melissa Merritt
October, 2010

Eighteen summers had Margaret Wilson passed,
Now trusting firmly in Jehovah.
Neither parent believing, alas--
They saw her faith as an enigma.

Then the king's men spread throughout the land
Arresting opposers of prelacy.
The Wilson siblings had joined such a band,
Retreating from cave to marsh, the back-country.

It seemed the danger had abated,
So the sisters dined with a friend in town.
This widow's other guests were elated
While they brought the girls--their enemies--down.

As the girls were dragged to prison,
Their hearts drummed fast and loud;
Yet even in the roofless dungeon,
They remembered God rebukes the proud.

The stone door clanked open wide,
But only for a moment, in the gloom.
The girls were pushed and squeezed inside,
'Mid the bodies in that crowded tomb.

One day a lined face appeared before them,
Widow Margaret MacLauchlan, their own.
They gasped and reached each other, then.
"Oh, my friend!" they each did bemoan.

"We must not waver; we must be strong!
The LORD will be our help, I ken."
Thus they waited, bursting out in song,
Fin'lly huddling to sleep after the last amen.

They were brought before the court's bench,
Margaret Wilson and her sister.
"Does the king control the church?
Or does God?" the voices blistered.

"God," they cried in unison,
Young Agnes along with Margaret.
Their sad fate they could envision,
But they turned not to vile regret.

Their father fought to free them,
Paying ransom for the younger;
But Margaret still they would condemn,
Though Mr. Wilson contended longer.

Morning eclipsed morning, nothing changed;
Bread and water were all their meat.
Some pris'ners fell, some grew deranged.
Some shared a cloak for added heat.

'Twas dark each night, no sign of a lantern,
And oft the rain pummeled their heads;
But the true and righteous could not turn,
Not bend, though they ached for soft beds.

They were prepared, these Margarets twain,
Reciting many a verse of God's Holy Writ.
They fainted not in adversity nor died in vain,
No drowning could put out their glow, once lit.

So when the guards came, mocking,
On that pale gray Wigtown dawn,
The torch-lights of the prison wing
Were steadily burning on.

'Twas May of sixteen hundred eighty five
When they were hauled into the tide,
The younger watched the older strive,
And called it the wrestling of Christ inside.

Margaret sang and prayed, unafraid.
They dragged her out, panting, for one more proffer,
But her resolve was not allayed;
Eternity with Christ had more to offer.