The Gospel According to Stranger Things
I think it’s standard to start off this sort of article with a spoiler warning. But come on. If you haven’t watched Stranger Things season 2 by now, you must have already decided you prefer normal things. This show is such a phenomenon that I will eschew the spoiler alert because every human being has already watched it. But even if you haven’t, I think this reflection will still resonate with you if you’ve endured the hell we call “middle school.”
There are obviously many reasons for the success of this Netflix original series: a lovable cast of kids, excellent writing and directing, an insane amount of 80s nostalgia, and Steve Harrington’s hair, to name but a few. Many people I’ve talked to about the show (and I talk about it quite a bit when new episodes drop) agree that the second season is the best of the first three. Which is saying something.
The first season was both fun and intense, but the second installment added something new to my experience: I was moved. There were touching moments that really resonated with me.
In one such moment near the very end of the season, I found myself crying. Nothing to see over here, just a burly man crying into his beard while watching a fictional portrayal of a middle school Snow Ball dance. Stranger things indeed.
Church or the Snow Ball?
If it’s been a while for you, you can briefly refresh yourself on this scene with this promotional video. It won’t actually show you the good parts, though, so here’s a recap of why this scene is so powerful:
We are mostly taken through this scene from Dustin’s point of view. He’s gotten pointers from Steve Harrington himself, and he’s ready to have an amazing night.
Things start off very poorly for Dustin, as Max and Lucas (his crush and his best friend, respectively) start to dance. Indeed, the two are now a couple, and Dustin is devastated.
He then undertakes his quest to find acceptance and belonging in the pursuit of a dance partner. Despite emulating the swagger and hairspray practices of Steve Harrington, he is denied. Hard. The rejection sends him crying to the bleachers.
Enter Nancy. Older, cooler Nancy. Out of pure compassion and love, she moves toward him. She lifts him up from the bleachers and takes him to the very center of the gym to be her dance partner. (You can see this moment in the video link above from 2:15-2:34, though it doesn’t include the full amazing dialogue from their dance).
She not only gives him a position of honor, but she speaks words of life over his broken heart. “You know, out of all my brother’s friends, you’re my favorite. You’ve always been my favorite.”
Preach it, Duffer Brothers. Honestly, though, the first time I saw this (while wiping away my tears), I immediately thought of Jesus.
Nancy as a Type of Christ
Haven’t we all felt like Dustin? No matter what we pine after or pursue, at some point our search leaves us on the bleachers. We can try any cosmetic trickery, we can mimic our idols, but it ends in the same place. The bleachers, time after time.
It’s so easy to loathe ourselves—and resent others—from the bleachers. What’s wrong with those people who can’t see us for who we really are? Or maybe they do see us, and something is ugly or unlovable in us.
Where do we find hope in the midst of bitterness? Here is where the eyes of faith can transform our perspective.
We can remember Jesus talking to the Samaritan woman at the well, who wonders, “How is it that you are asking me—a Samaritan woman—for a drink?” Or his decision to come eat dinner with Zacchaeus, the despised tax collector. Or his affirmation of a “sinful woman’s” desperate acts of love for him in the house of a Pharisee. Or his decision to sit down and talk to an old man who hadn’t been able to walk for decades.
The people who were treated like throwaways in that society—the people sitting in the bleachers—were Jesus’ best friends.
He took their hands. He danced with them. He said, “You’ve always been my favorite.”
If you’ve been treated like a throwaway by church or by the cool kids, you’re our favorite. Or if you’re on the bleachers for some other reason—we’d love to dance with you. Let us know you’re here with this brief form.
