What if watching movies could be a spiritual discipline? For one film critic, great films became guiding lights -- an escape from fear-based religion into richer experiences of imagination, beauty, community, and faith.
Growing up in a bubble of churches and Christian schools, Jeffrey Overstreet was taught by example to condemn "worldly" art and culture as predatory and poisonous. Yet, the flicker of light from cinema screens proved a temptation too powerful to resist. And what he found there was quite the opposite of what he'd been He found God at play in ten thousand theaters. Now, through deeply personal and eye-opening stories, Overstreet invites you to retrace a revelatory from Pinocchio to My Neighbor Totoro, from Disney's Hundred-Acre Wood to The Tree of Life, from The Black Stallion to Blade Runner, from Dead Poets Society and Do the Right Thing to Moonrise Kingdom and Marcel the Shell with Shoes On.
Spoiler! Movies do not burn down Overstreet's faith. Rather, they free him to answer the Scriptures' instruction -- not only to love the world, but to learn from it. Great cinema invites us to hear a holy voice in the beauty of the natural world, and to break away from destructive distortions of Jesus's teaching. Guided by the lights of screens and Scripture, the author of Through a Screen Darkly and the fantasy novel Auralia's Colors testifies of a God who moves in mysterious ways, calling us into a life of courageous creativity.
Jeffrey Overstreet is the author of two memoirs about cinema and faith — Through a Screen Darkly (2007) and Lost and Found in the Cathedral of Cinema (2026) — as well as the fantasy novel Auralia's Colors (2007) and its three sequels.
He is an associate professor of creative writing and film at Seattle Pacific University, where students voted him Undergraduate Professor of the Year in 2024.
Overstreet formerly served as senior film critic at Christianity Today, and his writing on art, faith, and culture has been published at Image, Bright Wall/Dark Room, Paste, and Comment, and in many other journals. He lives in Shoreline, Washington.
The truth is it was movies that saved me far more than church ever could.
As a paraplegic who grew up always on the cusp of medical catastrophe and as a survivor of both childhood and adult sexual abuse, it was the local moviehouse that provided a safe space to feel, to question, to learn, and even to heal. While my childhood church was often a place of resistance and judgment, it was within the sanctuary of cinema that my spiritual journey really blossomed.
While "Lost & Found in the Cathedral of Cinema: A Spiritual Journey" may never go quite as dark as my own life has gone, it's within a similar framework that film critic and writer Jeffrey Overstreet explores his own spiritual journey by using great films as guiding lights and, in many cases, also an escape from fear-based religion into worlds of imagination, beauty, community, and a richer and more fulfilling faith.
Like so many, myself included, Overstreet had been raised within the seemingly safe bubble of Christian churches and schools where secular art and culture were condemned and often taught as contradictory to faith.
Like so many, myself included, Overstreet learned that quite often the opposite is true. God is alive and well in the cinema and these films for Overstreet - ranging from Pinocchio to My Neighbor Totoro to Disney's Hundred-Acre Wood to Moonrise Kingdom to Marcel the Shell with Shoes On (possibly my favorite section of the book and a beloved film for this writer as well) - offered insights and wisdom into God, faith, life, and even a sense of call.
Rather than contradict Overstreet's faith, this world of cinema fueled it with the freedom to both ask and answer questions, love and learn, and to hear God's voice in the world around us.
My own cinematic world, I suppose, has been much darker and I'd imagine more questionable in terms of its connection to faith. For me, films like Mysterious Skin, The War Zone, Lars and the Real Girl, Ponette and, more extremely, even I Spit On Your Grave have offered me chances to venture into extreme darkness and come out a healthier and more loving human being with a deeper, richer faith.
Lost & Found in the Cathedral of Cinema is thoughtful and vulnerable, insightful and unquestionably faith-filled. It's a literary reminder that God doesn't simply exist between church walls, and that faith is a journey that envelopes us and immerses us in the world around us and within us.
Filled with personal stories and cinematic explorations, "Lost & Found in the Cathedral of Cinema" is a must-read for anyone who has found God amidst the flickering lights of the arthouse cinema or the neighborhood multiplex.
Nearly 20 years ago, "Through a Screen Darkly" came along and changed my entire perspective on how to engage with the arts as a person of faith. I had just started as a published film critic and I was just beginning the process of untangling myself from the evangelical subculture in which I had grown up. Here was a person of faith willing to talk about movies that weren't made in that bubble; he was talking about "Life of Brian," "Taxi Driver" and movies I hadn't even heard of ("Babette's Feast" would quickly become a favorite of mine). Next to Roger Ebert, I don't know of another critic whose perspective and approach to writing about film has so impacted me.
So I was thrilled to learn that Jeffrey Overstreet had published a new book, a memoir filtered through formative cinema. Less a guidebook than "Through a Screen Darkly" and more a nimble mixture of autobiography, film criticism and work of profound theological imagination, "Lost and Found" is even more accomplished, insightful and personal than its predecessor. It's a celebration of creativity, imagination and play, and the work of a fellow traveler who has broken free of the strictures of evangelicalism and Christian subculture to find something deeper, richer and more freeing on the other side. It's "about" films like "Pinocchio," "Moonrise Kingdom," "Do the Right Thing" and the works of Jim Henson, among others. But it's really about how cinema can serve as a guide to help us interrogate ourselves and our world, and bring us to a place of more beauty, hope and goodness than we can even imagine.
The highest praise I can give a work of art is that I'm thankful for it. And I am thankful for Jeffrey's new book.