Anyone who knows me knows I’ve been counting down to Spider-Man: Brand New Day since Marvel announced it.
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Tom Holland’s Spider-Man has been my favorite Marvel hero ever since Captain America: Civil War. I’d missed the other films’ theatrical runs, so I decided that no matter what, I was going to see this one.

I tracked all the leaked trailer snippets. I researched fan theories. I even got opening weekend tickets so I wouldn’t fall prey to spoilers.

And it did not disappoint. A movie has not made me feel so seen in a long time. (I cried twice. I regret nothing.) After the movie, once the hype and adrenaline quieted, I realized this story very much mirrored my own and spoke into my current struggles.

So consider this my official review of Spider-Man: Brand New Day, with a dash of encouragement. Maybe my noticings can help you out, too.

Obviously, there will be MASSIVE spoilers ahead, so if you’ve not seen it, please do yourself the biggest of favors and come back here after you’ve watched the movie.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is about adulthood.

I was fifteen when Tom Holland’s Spider-Man made his first MCU appearance. Ironically, Peter Parker was also fifteen. Even though I didn’t get into Marvel until later, I still grew up alongside this character. I related deeply to him for many reasons, but most of all, he felt very real to my teen experience.

Now I’m twenty-five, and this character I grew up with is also in his twenties. He takes down crime bosses, saves the city, and then has to deal with the laundry he put off.

To quote a Conan Gray song, growing up doesn’t always go how we’d like it. It doesn’t for Peter. He loses everyone he loves. Everyone he cares about forgets him and moves on. He’s starting over completely from scratch, and he’s not sure he likes who he is becoming.

No one teaches you how to be an adult. I’m not sure anybody can, at least not entirely. Sometimes adulthood feels like a mountain of things we’re supposed to instinctively know how to do.

And when we don’t, it’s all too easy to believe we failed. We look around at other adults our age, and they seem to have it all together. They thrive at work and smash their goals and they probably know how to do their taxes, too. It feels like we’re falling behind.

On top of that, everyone else is changing, too. Family dynamics shift. Friends go to college or move away or get married. It’s all too easy to feel alone and forgotten, and it’s all too easy to isolate ourselves so we never feel that way again.

Growing up can be weird and scary—but this movie reminded me that it will be okay. It won’t be weird and scary forever.

But for now, while you’re still in the weird and scary, you don’t have to have it all together. No one here on earth has it all together, no matter how much it may look like they do. We’re all struggling to one degree or another, and you’re not a failure if you can’t keep up with it all. And we still need each other in that.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is about burnout. 

Peter’s colleagues—the few colleagues he has—beg him to slow down. His own body screams at him to stop. But Peter insists on pushing through.

So his body takes matters into its own hands. It’s almost like constant stress and pressure can mess you up physically? Who knew?

I’ve discussed this on my blog before, but I went through a time where I could not write. An ability I had always had disappeared. I was dealing with stress and trauma, all while trying very hard to be a successful human. My body and mind begged me to rest, but my responsibilities were always there to remind me that I didn’t have time. (I wrote more about it HERE.)

Back then, I think I optimistically believed that I had cracked the code, and if I just followed my own advice, when the burnout came back, it wouldn’t be so bad, and one day, it would even disappear. That’s not what happened, at least not yet. I still go through burnout cycles and all the fun stuff that comes with that.

But this movie reminded me of the advice I tried to give myself back then. It’s okay to rest. Take naps. Set smaller goals for yourself. Step back from a non-essential responsibility. Your whole world won’t implode (most likely). Choose the form of rest that works for you and what you need right now.

Because if you don’t choose to rest, if you don’t choose to listen to what your body and brain tell you, then they will make sure you do. Also, you might mutate into a spider.  

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is about healing.

Ultimately, Peter’s story is about healing. Peter has spent the past several years desperately shoving away his hurt and his feelings and his grief.

All throughout my childhood and into my adulthood, I did the same. I got really good (or at least I thought I was) at shoving my feelings away until I literally couldn’t anymore—and then feeling ashamed for letting them out at all.

Eventually, all those feelings came back to haunt me. I had to admit that I had feelings that scared me. I was deeply angry and deeply hurt and deeply sad. And I couldn’t just tuck them away for a more convenient time. I had to feel all those feelings.

Peter finally hits a point where he has to deal with his own rage and grief and depression. He can’t just shut off the parts of him that he doesn’t like, no matter how much he wants to. He finally has to feel it all and accept all those parts of himself.

But that doesn’t mean he lets his bad traits drive him. You can’t ignore the parts of yourself that you don’t like, but those parts don’t have to control you, either.

His healing also comes through reconnecting with the people he’s kept away. Friendship matters, especially when you’re an adult, whether it’s strengthening relationships you already have or seeking out new ones. Peter has to be honest, be vulnerable and let other people in to what’s going on in his head (sometimes literally). Adulting can be weird and scary, and it’s so, so important that we don’t do it alone.

And when he opens up about his deepest hurts, he becomes the person his younger self needed. He becomes the person Aunt May was for him.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day brought me both comfort and hope. Comfort that I’m not alone in my struggle, that I can rest as long as I need, and that I’m not failing or falling behind. And hope that I can become the person my younger self needed, that I can be there for other people, and that I’m not alone.

Spider-Man movies have always been a place where I feel seen and explore my struggles, and this latest installment is no exception. Take whatever reminder you need with you today, and know you are not alone.

Have you seen Spider-Man: Brand New Day yet? What are your thoughts? Let me know in the comments below! 

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult fantasy. I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want and maybe a metaphor about grief. Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates on my dieselpunk Anastasia reimaging. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! ​

The second Susan announced she was pregnant in the Fantastic Four: First Steps trailer, I rolled my eyes.
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See, here’s the thing. I hate pregnancy tropes. Hate them with a passion. It might be my least favorite trope in all fiction-dom. Too many series take a beloved heroine, announce she’s pregnant, and then strip her of all character and personality.

So when Susan Storm announced she was pregnant, in the very first trailer no less, I lost all hope that our girl Susan got to do much of anything in the movie.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t make a huge effort to see the movie. It’d pop up on Disney+, and I’d page past. I’d watch it sometime before the next Avengers movie came out. Maybe.

Well, I finally watched it, and I am blown away by how wrong I was. Not only is Susan an excellent heroine, she’s an excellent example of motherhood.

Today, I’m analyzing Susan and all the things that make her fantastic. But first, let’s clear the water on my deep-seated hatred for pregnancy tropes.

Why I Hate Pregnancy Tropes

My hatred of fictional pregnancies doesn’t translate to real life, I assure you. I’ve celebrated with others over pregnancy announcements and baby showers and new additions.

So why all the hatred for it in fiction?

My first reason is practical. I read mainly young adult fiction. So unless you’re tackling a topic like teen pregnancy, this trope is just a weird choice.

My second reason is the more important one. Most authors who write pregnancy tropes sacrifice their heroines in order to do so. Her only personality trait becomes “pregnant.” Any values she held before disappear--especially if she’s stated before that she wasn’t interested in having babies.

At best, it’s a cheap way to write off a character.

At worst, it cements the idea that a woman’s only worth lies in how many babies she has. And that idea doesn’t need any more cementing.

I’ve mentioned before that I grew up with an abuser who held some cult-like beliefs, and this was a huge one. As young as eight years old, I was taught that the only destiny a woman has it to get married and have as many babies as possible, even if it’s more than she or her body can handle.

And as young as eight years old, I remember panicking, because what if I grew up and I didn’t want that?

When I say I hate pregnancy tropes, it’s not because I think moms don’t need representation. It’s not because I think all women should stay single.

It’s because these tropes are often used to demean women, whether that’s a woman who chooses to have children or a woman who chooses to not have children.

But no one does that to Susan Storm. And Susan Storm gave me hope for this very controversial trope, and a group of women who don’t see themselves represented well very often.

Susan keeps her agency.

Within the movie’s first few minutes, we find out this is Susan’s choice. She’s wanted a baby for a long time.
Her pregnancy isn’t because a negligent writer needed something Susan could do. She’s not having a baby because she’s a woman and everyone knows that’s the only thing women are good for.

She’s having a baby because she decided for herself that she wanted this in her life. And the people around her that love her—her husband, her brother, and her friends—respected and supported her.

Female characters—moms or otherwise—often lack agency. They’re often there just so things can happen to them, things that will spur on other characters’ development. They’ll get kidnapped. They’ll get tortured. They’ll get pregnant. They’re not often given the opportunity to make meaningful choices, both good and bad, choices that impact the story.

So watching Susan choose this path for herself, not because anyone else thought she should, is refreshing. And it honors all the real-life women who make that choice for themselves, too.

Susan has a full personality, and her personality doesn’t vanish or change just because she’s having a baby. Rather, she brings her character and her values into motherhood. She has meaningful relationships with other characters and has her own thoughts and opinions on different issues.

She is a fully developed person who happens to also be a mom.

Not only that, but no one forces Susan to surrender her role as a superhero when she gets pregnant and has a baby. She continues fighting to save the world through it all. At times, her role may look different than it did before, but her contribution does not decrease or disappear.

She has worth and value as a person, not just as a potential mom. I’d argue that she may be the most powerful member of the Fantastic Four.

Okay, well, except one character who I won’t divulge here in case anyone out there (like me) hasn’t seen the film. Because spoilers.

Susan Storm made me confront all the preconceived notions I had about fictional motherhood. My problem with these tropes and depictions wasn’t that they exist. It was how they were used to take agency away from women.

Susan changed my mind. Because she proves that, when done with intentional thought, a pregnancy trope or motherhood arc can enhance a heroine’s story. It can strengthen her agency rather than tear it away. It can lift up the real-life women who made that choice and walk that journey every single day.

And she can send the message to all women that they have value and worth, whether or not they choose to have children.

Dare I say that’s fantastic? 

Your turn! Have you seen The Fantastic Four: First Steps? What did you think of Susan--and any of the other characters? 

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult fantasy. I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want and maybe a metaphor about grief. Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates on my dieselpunk Anastasia reimaging. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there!

Imagine we built a time machine. Don’t worry, I’m sure our time machine won’t do anything like, I don’t know, accidentally start a multiverse.

We take our time machine back to 2022-ish. (It’s not a very precise machine.) The year that I first watched the Marvel Cinematic Universe films.

While we’re here, since it can’t hurt, we ask 2022 me which Marvel project she hates the most.

Without even a second’s hesitation, she answers Captain Marvel.

Right. Back to the present. I’m rewatching all the MCU projects and dreading Captain Marvel. But I give it another fair shot. After all, it’s been four years. Opinions change over four years. (Don’t I know it.)

Cut to Carol fighting her attackers while “Just a Girl” blasts in the background.

Cue me going “oh no.”

Suddenly, my most hated Marvel film became not hated at all. Captain Marvel is a fun film with a fantastic heroine. And the reasons she’s so good are the very traits that I hated her for.

Carol was too defiant.

My girl Carol really crash-landed in a Blockbuster and immediately took no crap from anyone.
She’ll disobey her superiors. She’ll argue with freakin’ Nick Fury. She’ll punch a hole through the wall with her super-powered fists.

2022 me thought that was too much.

Can you say INTERNALIZED MISOGYNY?

In case you’ve not been introduced to the term yet, internalized misogyny is when women subconsciously accept and project sexist beliefs onto themselves and the women around them. And it caused all my problems with this movie.  

I believed that I shouldn’t be loud, defiant, or angry, so I believed that even the fictional Carol Danvers shouldn’t be loud, defiant, or angry, and I hated her for it.

Yeah, 2022 Rachel was going through it.

I’ve undone a lot of those sexist beliefs over the past four years, although I’m sure that I still have a lot more to work through. And while we’re here, let’s clarify—a woman does not have to be defiant to also be strong.
But some women are defiant, and some women need to be.

Carol—and many other beings in her world—had been horribly used and manipulated. (I’m not going to say that nods to real-life problems, but it definitely does.) Carol’s anger and grief over what she had lost fueled her to create a change, both for herself and for other people who needed her.

Sometimes, we need a woman to get loud and angry.

Carol was too emotional.

Do you hear that? Do you hear the internalized misogyny?

Among the Kree, Yon-Rogg, Carol’s superior, lectures her about her emotions, claiming that they hinder her fights. In reality, he’s terrified of what might happen if she uses them in a healthy way.

People use this argument against women every day, especially women in positions of leadership (like Carol eventually would be). I believed I shouldn’t be emotional, and so she shouldn’t either.

If you asked 2022 me if I was a thinker or a feeler, she would have wholeheartedly answered a thinker. I believed that I didn’t feel very much and that when I made decisions, I used my head and my logic, and that I was better off for it.

It turns out repressed emotions are still emotions. And over the next four years, life circumstances would be like “bestie, you are anything but logical.” And that’s okay. I had to undo sexist beliefs that told me that if I felt anything too deeply, then I was just a hysterical female.

Once again, Carol deserves to be emotional. And yes, she shows how emotions can hold us back—but more importantly, she shows how emotions make us strong. She shows how emotions inspire us to do big things. We don’t need to fear our feelings, especially not as women.

Carol makes mistakes. Sometimes huge ones.

Carol disobeys Yon-Rogg’s orders—which gets her captured by the Skrull and ruins her mission. She discriminates against the Skrull through the majority of the film. And if she’d just listen to Nick every once in a while, quite a few complications could have been avoided.

BEEEEEEEEEEEP INTERNALIZED MISOGYNY ALERT.

(Are you noticing a theme here?)

This idea sneaks into even the most “feminist” movies. Sometimes while trying to create a character that celebrates women, we swing so far the other way that we make them perfect, that we don’t allow them to make mistakes.

But deep underneath that, we believe that women shouldn’t make mistakes, and if they do, they should not be easily forgiven. If you hang around fandom circles, you’ve seen those posts. “If (female character) were a dude, everyone would have said she was just misunderstood.”

And it’s true. I could name multiple stories where two characters with similar backgrounds both make questionable choices. The male character is almost universally beloved, and the female character is almost universally hated for the very same choice.

We hold women to a harsher standard than men, both in fiction and in real life. We’re taught to be perfect and to not make mistakes, because if we make mistakes, then people will discredit us. But making mistakes is part of being human.

I argue that making mistakes is one of the most important traits a strong female character can have. And Carol not only makes mistakes, but deals with the consequences they bring. And not all her mistakes are the end of the world—sometimes they lead her to where she’s actually meant to be.

And finally, she got superpowers randomly at the end so she could save the day.

2022 me thought the ending was an easy out. Oh, Carol now has the power of a thousand burning suns or whatever. How convenient.

But Carol’s powers aren’t random, and they weren’t a cheap way to get her out of a pickle. Carol always had those powers. (Well, at least since the explosion.) She just gets them back, or rather, realizes she had them all along.

But even when she didn’t have access to all her superpowers, she still always got back up after a fight. She cared about her friends. She searched for the truth and challenged the norm.

Defiance was her power. Emotions were her power. Her ability to learn from her mistakes and get back up was her power.

Carol’s most important powers weren’t even the superpowers she takes back. They were the qualities she had all along.

So. Consider this my formal retraction of any previous Captain Marvel slander I’ve put out on the Internet.

I could write thousands of words about this film. But all those words boil down to a twenty-four-year-old woman curled up on her living room floor watching Carol Danvers beat the heck out of her attackers while “Just a Girl” plays in the background.

A twenty-four-year-old woman watching the stories she never saw as a kid.

And that’s why Captain Marvel is so powerful.  

What are your thoughts on Captain Marvel? Let me know in the comments below!

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult fantasy. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want and maybe a metaphor about grief. Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates on my dieselpunk Anastasia reimaging. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! 

Have you watched Black Widow?

My sister and I rewatched it for the second time recently. I still had to look away during the opening credits sequence. We laughed over the jokes we’d forgotten and gasped over moments that caught us off guard.

What surprised me most was how this is a perfect “girl power” story done right.

In a twist that shocks no one, I very much support girl power stories. Some Christian artists tear down any example of “woke feminism,” the mystic and buzzy words that spell doom for most heroines.

Here’s the thing though. As I grew up, and especially during my teen years, I couldn’t relate to the heroines I saw and read. No matter how demure I was forced to look on the outside, inside I never felt like I fit common feminine stereotypes.

So as I made more viewing and reading choices for myself, I craved those heroines who were different. I sought out strong heroines, women who challenged injustice and abuse, women who did the things everyone said girls couldn’t do.

And I found Natasha and Yelena.

Marvel certainly hasn’t always hit the mark with their heroines. Heck, it took them over a decade to get Black Widow herself right. (I refuse to discuss the travesty that is her representation in Iron Man 2.) But they did finally get there. And we're going to explore how--as well as how it works for your own leading ladies. 

No One Gets Pushed Aside

If you’re like me, you might have come here to create a strong female character that isn’t “aggressive” or “abrasive” to your audience.

And we’ll get there. But I also want to challenge that idea. 

With women-led stories, when commentators call them aggressive and abrasive, it’s often code for something else. Aggressive means it steps a little too close to my own pet prejudices, challenging me in uncomfortable ways. Abrasive means that the heroine is too loud, too strong, too something or another, and she makes us feel threatened.

Stories like Black Widow should make me uncomfortable. It’s hard to not cover my eyes when girls are dragged screaming away from the only family they know, and said family watches them go. And I need that discomfort.

Aggressive and abrasive can also mean something else, though, and we’ve all read a girl power story like this. Where the heroine tears down everyone around her, regardless of gender, so she can lift herself to the heights she needs.

Black Widow deals very up close and personally with some very evil men. And yet, never once did they tear down a man to lift their woman up.

I hear you. “But Alexei—” you say.

And it’s true. The characters—and us, the audience—mercilessly mock Alexei. But we don’t mock him because “he’s a man and all men are dumb and stupid.”

No, we mock him because he’s Alexei. He could have been a woman and we would have laughed the same way. His character traits and the things we may or may not mock him for are not tied to his gender. And in the end, he has the chance to choose something more heroic, just like our heroines do, whether or not he ultimately takes it.

There aren’t very many men in Black Widow, but there’s at least one good dude, even if it’s just the guy who gives Natasha a safe house, or references to how Clint Barton has helped her. Which is so important especially when dealing with heavy subject matter like this film does, where the men would and could be villains.

But in making sure the heroines don’t put anyone down, the film also doesn’t allow anyone to put down the heroines. No other character, regardless of who they are, eclipses Natasha and Yelena. The women take center stage here. But they didn’t push anyone out of the way to get there.

Because they didn’t have to push anyone down to get where they are, Natasha and Yelena are actually stronger. They don’t steal their strength from someone else, male or female. And because of that, their inherent strength is more, because they have enough to stand on their own.  

The Female Gaze (alternatively titled The Importance of Pockets)

Just because they included good guys doesn’t mean they downplayed evil and injustice. Dreykov still exists. There’s a reason I cry during the opening sequence. It is brutal and it is heart-wrenching and it captures feelings that touch every woman on this planet in a way.

On the flipside, the film also includes the unique joys that women experience—whether that’s sisterhood or the value of an outfit with lots of pockets. (If you know you know, and you’re probably a woman.)

I should also note that none of their struggles centered around romance. That’s not to say that it wasn’t represented—Melina had whatever she had with Alexei.

But neither Yelena or Natasha can have children, but they don’t treat themselves like they’re broken. Neither Yelena or Natasha are at all interested in romance right now, and they don’t act like they’re incomplete. (Unlike some other Marvel projects I could name . . . cough, cough, Age of Ultron.)

In a culture that, for all the empowering messages it claims, also tells women that they only matter if they’re attached to someone, it’s refreshing to see a film that neither slanders marriage and family but also recognizes that marriage and family is not a woman’s purpose.

If you have a minute to kill (and I’m guessing you do if you’re reading this), here’s a interesting exercise I stumbled upon in the depths of Google one day. Someone placed the Black Widow Avengers poster beside the Black Widow poster for her titular movie. I won’t even say anything, just take a look at them and guess which film was directed by a woman.

Everything from her costume color to her hairstyle to the angle she faces the camera is affected by a women’s viewpoint.

And if you’re a dude and you’re despairing and thinking this counts you out, let me point out that a man wrote the Black Widow screenplay. Learning these angles and ideas is for everyone, not just women.

This Princess Saves Herself

Hear me on this: There’s nothing wrong with a man saving a woman.

But the vast majority of women have had to save themselves. They have had to fight and kick and claw and scream their way out. So stories where a man saves the woman from all her troubles can feel trite and insulting.

This movie allows for that. Natasha, Yelena, and Melina sever their own nerve so to speak to escape Dreykov and rescue the women around them. 

And yet not every woman is an untouchable savior. Melina allowed Yelena and Natasha to be trafficked and even assisted their trafficker. Natasha attempted to kill Dreykov’s daughter to complete a mission. Yelena . . . okay, Yelena is actually fine for now, although she gets into sketchy stuff later in the MCU.

The heroines are allowed to be messy and imperfect and sometimes deeply wrong.

This is why it was so important that Taskmaster was a woman. Her struggle, Natasha’s struggle, and the ways they mirror each other even as they’re hurting each other has a very raw power. We all support women helping women, but women also sometimes hurt women. Watching Natasha make that right, however imperfectly, means something, much more than if Taskmaster was just another male villain.

When all is said and all is done, the movie is allowed to be a story about women and the myriad of relationships between them. But notice that this movie never says “this is a story about women.” There’s no impassioned go-girls speech. Instead, the filmmakers simply let their heroines take the lead and followed them into all the messy, confusing places of being a girl in this world.

There’s not only something beautiful about that, there’s something powerful. 
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Did you go see Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 last month?

Before going to see it, I wouldn’t have said I was a huge fan of the Guardians. They were definitely fun, enjoyable watches. But when all was said and done, that was it. Fun.

But Vol. 3 was in theaters, and my sisters and I wanted to go see a Marvel movie in theaters for the first time. By all the trailers, this one looked like it was going to be a great one (which, when it comes to Marvel, are getting more and more rare). So we took our chance and off we went, and it was worth it. I could go on and on about how great a movie this was, but that’s not what you’re here for.

After that, I went back and watched the original Guardians of the Galaxy, seeing it in a new light after Vol. 3.
One of the things that struck me the most in a rewatch, was just how unlikeable most of the Guardians truly were. (Well, with the exception of Groot.) By Vol. 3, they had quite a bit of character development under their belts.

But in the original, all of them were criminals, whether that was for murder, theft, or whatever Peter Quill was up to. They’d stab anyone in the back to get what they want—it’s pretty much how they all wound up in jail together. And even when forced to work together to escape, they spent most of the time fighting and shouting at each other.

But then they discovered that orb they were all squabbling over had the power to wipe out entire cities. And then, thanks to one of their members, that orb fell into the hands of a very wrong person. And the only people that could get it back were the most unlikeable.

As Peter put it, a bit less eloquently, the universe was asking them to care for once.

That particular chance that was handed them may have been just that—chance. Or maybe it was a nod to something deeper. Sprinkled within all that fighting and shouting and galaxy-saving, I spotted grace.

Grace is defined as “free and unmerited favor.” You get something good just because. Not because you did anything for it—in fact, usually because you didn’t do anything for it—but just because the giver chose you.

Gamora attempted to kill him, but Peter still risked his own life to save Gamora in a prison fight.

Drax called the villain on them and caused them to lose the power stone, but the Guardians still took him back.

Groot sacrificed himself to save the rest of the Guardians, even though none of them had done anything that would make anyone care.

Rocket cruelly mocked Drax’s grief for his family, but Drax still chose to comfort Rocket when he lost his friend.

Nebula was an active villain throughout the first film and much of the second, but the Guardians (Gamora especially) still chose to reach out to her and give her the love she so desperately wanted.

A lot of days, I don’t feel very likeable. I know I do things that are wrong. Some days I hate it, some days I just don’t care. Even at my best, I’m bound to do something that might annoy someone somewhere. I don’t like making mistakes. I don’t like being unlikeable. I’ve been known to fight and shout in my own ways.

“For while we were still helpless, at the right time, Christ died for the ungodly. For rarely will someone die for a just person—though for a good person perhaps someone might even dare to die. But God proves His own love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:6-8, CSB)

The Guardians didn’t come together when they were a family largely healing and learning to treat others with grace. They came together and held each other up when they were in prison for trying to kill, kidnap, or at the very least steal from each other.

Jesus didn’t come for the version of me that I will be someday. He came for the mean version of me. He came for the version of me that makes mistakes. He came for the version of me who gave Him no reason to care. The version that tried to kill Him. But He cares anyway.

The Guardians didn't just accept the grace given to them and go on with business as usual. Grace changed them. The Guardians at the end of Vol. 3 are wildly different than the ones at the beginning of Vol. 1. They care more about each other. They trade in crime for protecting the galaxy. They give more grace themselves.

Jesus didn’t come and save me and then leave me to my own devices, He sticks with me, even though I make wrong choices over and over again and I’m just not quite there yet. But we will get there one day.

Grace is free, unmerited favor. I didn’t expect to find grace in Guardians of the Galaxy. Then again, I wouldn’t have expected to find grace towards me. But it’s still there.

If you’re feeling unlikeable today, maybe this is the time to remember that Someone still loves you no matter what you do or say, and that He has placed people around you who will extend you the same grace. And hey, maybe it’s time to rewatch Guardians of the Galaxy while you’re at it. You know, if that’s your thing.

*Who's your favorite Guardian? What did you think of the movies? Share your adventures in the comments below!*

 
What is February largely known for? I hear you saying Valentine’s Day. (Correct me if I'm wrong.)

So naturally, I’m here to talk about an entirely non-romantic movie.

I recently completed my first trip through all the Marvel Cinematic Universe films. Aside from the Spider-Man films, my favorite movie was Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the second in the Captain America trilogy. Generally applauded as one of the best Marvel films ever made, it sports a good story, deep character arcs, and all-around amazingness.

But I took away from it one simple lesson that might connect to Valentine’s Day more than one might expect.
There will be some spoilers ahead for The Winter Soldier, so if you care about that kind of thing, you might want to pass on this one until you’ve seen the movie.

A large turning point for Steve Rogers (aka Captain America) in the first film was when his best friend Bucky Barnes fell off a train to his death due to an enemy attack. A very close second was when he crashed his own plane into the Arctic Ocean and was frozen for about seventy years.

Now that he’s been brought back seventy years after he crashed, he has a lot of catching up to do. And time hasn’t helped heal any of the losses.

He doesn’t have any time to grieve, either. He’s just uncovered a sketchy-looking project within his native organization SHIELD. And the person who uncovered it with him has just been attacked by a masked and silent assassin who goes only by the Winter Soldier.

Steve and fellow Avenger Natasha are the only ones left to discover just what this sketchy project is and who exactly is behind the mask of the Winter Soldier.

Spoiler: They do.

It’s Bucky.

During a fight, his mask falls off and Steve recognizes his friend.

A lot of people would have cut their losses. Sure, it’s terribly sad. But Bucky could have chosen to work for them himself. And even if he didn’t, he’s likely so brainwashed that nothing will penetrate it. He’s killed dozens of people, including people they care about. Everything and everyone says he’s better left alone and taken out.

Steve disagrees. He’s certain his friend is still in there somewhere. Even though the Bucky in front of him has no idea who he is and doesn’t seem to care, Steve refuses to give up on him. He risks his life time and again to try and bring Bucky back.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not a very likable person sometimes. I make bad choices that morph into disasters. I have a lot of messy things tangled up in my mind. I hurt people that I care about. I hide a lot of my true self. Sometimes I don’t even know who I really am.

But Someone keeps coming after me. Someone believes in me when I don’t believe in myself. Someone shows me the way out. Someone puts Himself out there time and again, even when He knows I’ll hurt Him.
Someone gave up His life—literally everything He had—for me, when I was at my worst.

It’s so simple, yet so complex. I’ll never understand why He keeps coming after me, and yet, it’s so simple and natural, written into the very universe around us to the point that I can see an echo of it in a Marvel movie of all things.

Whether you feel like you can take on the world today or you feel like the worst person to walk this earth today, Someone is still coming after you. Someone is going to stick with you no matter what happens to you or what you do.

Till the end of the line.