In The Uprising, the familiar myth of Robin Hood is stripped of its romantic swashbuckling and reimagined through a deliberate, art house lens. Visually, it goes a wonderful job creating a drab, somber world that leans into the broken grit of its subject matter set during the Black Plague in Europe. At the center of this muted world stands Andrew Garfield, delivering a brilliant performance that grounds the entire project. Garfield sheds the polished heroism typically associated with the character, painting a portrait of a man weighted down by exhaustion, doubt, and raw vulnerability. He elevates Robin from a grand mythical ideal into a breathing, deeply flawed human being.
Yet for all of Garfield’s emotional heavy lifting, the film itself is far from flawless. The Uprising suffers from a narrative structure that feels surprisingly simplistic given the heavy themes it attempts to haul. The plot points frequently falter, stumbling through predictable beats or slow moving scenes, while the dialogue often leans into clunky and sign-posting exposition rather than organic interaction. Combined with its slow, art house pacing, the runtime stretches noticeably, making the movie feel significantly longer than its clock time. It feels like there are multiple endings. Viewers looking for tight storytelling or crisp, engaging dialogue will likely find themselves testing their patience.
Where The Uprising succeeds, however, is as a provocative atmospheric vessel designed to spark uncomfortable questions. Rather than offering clean answers, the film leaves you sitting with the complex mechanics of systemic authority. It forces a hard look at the ownership of control: who ultimately holds power, and who merely borrows it? Is it the institution of the church with its moral claims, the rulers with their state force, or the common people whose labor fuels both? The Uprising is extremely helpful as a piece of art stirring conversation. Whether someone likes it as a story, it is effective in creating a mood and stimulating conversation that feels relevant and complex given for audiences today.
More urgently, the narrative asks whether we can maintain spiritual or moral faith outside the structures of dominance—or if our true, practical faith has simply become power itself. It transforms the legend of Robin Hood into an arena where morality and authority collide. Despite its narrative stumbles and dragged-out pace, The Uprising remains worth watching precisely for that friction. It challenges us with flawed humanity and leaves us asking questions long after the credits roll.
CeCe Winans released the award winning album the Hymns and a new book Faith for Generations all this year. UrbanFaith interviewed her about her new projects and why it matters for her to share her wisdom and faith with the next generation. The full podcast interview is below and excerpts edited for clarity and length follow.
Allen: Your album The Hymns returns to something foundational for many believers. Why was it important for you to record it?
CeCe Winans: Well, I think you said it, it’s the foundation of the church musically. I don’t think there’s anything more powerful than the hymns, and I think it’s important that the younger generation stays connected to it, every generation. And even with this, it wasn’t really the plan to do an album. I wanted to do some content for the world we live in now, something stripped, just vocal and piano to show the power of the hymns that could minister to people. Didn’t know how it would be received, but just felt like it would touch people where they needed to be touched, encourage them, remind them, and I see that it’s doing that. So that was really the heart behind it: let’s stay connected to the foundation.
Allen: What does it mean to share faith across generations through the hymns?
CeCe Winans: Yeah, it’s just powerful. The word of God, and that’s the thing, the hymns, it’s really the word of God put to music. I Have Decided to Follow Jesus, Amazing Grace, The Cross, At the Cross, it just brings you to the real foundation, and that is the word of God. And whenever the word of God goes out, it doesn’t return back void, but it will accomplish what it was sent to do. And so it’s powerful, it’s potent. I think the hymns are the most potent songs you could ever sing because of that. A lot of them were written through struggle, through the sufferings of Christ. And when you release that into the atmosphere, it dispels darkness. It does what the word does. To be the vessel to sing them is an honor, knowing that they really don’t need anything else.
Allen: How do you see hymns, some of which are more than 100 years old, connecting with what is relevant today?
CeCe Winans: Well, it’s the same as the word. The word never gets old. God is ancient but He’s always relevant. The Word of God never loses its power. God is a God of generations. I think we live in a time where we’re trying to cater to what’s new, that we forget that what’s old is what works. And when I think about those I was raised by, I knew that they had something that lasts, something that was worth dying for.
Allen: You also have the devotional book Faith for Generations. Why was it important to focus on sharing faith across generations?
CeCe Winans: When you get to be my age, 61, I was raised in the church and I am here today only, I am strong in my faith only because of those who went before me, my mom, my grandma, the mothers of the church, the elders, the pastors, people who truly love God and lived a life of holiness in front of me and taught me the ways of the Lord. That is the only reason I know who I am. That’s the only reason that I will not be moved. It hit me quite a few years ago that it’s your turn. Age, time go by and it’s like, okay, now you’re the mother of the church. Who are you pouring into? Whose life are you going to make sure that they get the baton and that they’re strong in their faith? You get to a point in life where life cannot be about you anymore. Being a mom, being a grandmother, seeing what your grandkids gotta be raised in, I gotta change my focus and make sure I’m focusing on passing this baton in a way that will carry the faith on. I do believe I am still here because of the call that is on my life to prepare the next generation, and I wanna awaken that in those who are my age and older.
Unless you’re willing to be corrected you will not reach your full potential. And we’re living in a time where people don’t wanna hear the older generation. I’m like, guys, you don’t understand. That’s where your life lies. That’s where the answers are in those who have gone before you. So with the generations devotional, teaching them that the word of God is the only thing that’s gonna keep you. It’s not your talent, it’s not your gift, it’s not how much money you have. It’s really understanding that the word of God brings life and it will help you in every part of your life.
Allen: What can churches and leaders learn from bringing younger and older generations together?
CeCe Winans: You gotta get young people around you. A lot of times people say, “Well, how have you been relevant?” And I tell all the producers, I’m 61, I’m not trying to be 16. But having young people around you keeps you relevant. So we need one another, and we have to focus on our youth. We have to be able to hear them and understand that we won’t agree, that there are some things that are not non-negotiable. But most things are negotiable.
Allen: What advice would you give a young person who wants to be impactful and live faithfully?
CeCe Winans: Well, the first thing is to prioritize. You gotta keep your relationship with the Lord. That’s gotta be the most important thing. Throughout my years, I can remember when I was 17, 16, it’s like prayer, being at prayer, being in your word. Understand the importance of submitting to the older generation. I know I stayed out of a lot of trouble because I submitted. And I know we’re living in a time where submission is a bad word, but submission to me is safety. So keeping God first is the number one thing, because when you make that commitment to Christ, it really will lead and guide your life. Having a life of integrity, being a person of character, is keeping God first. And when the Bible says, “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and everything else will be added,” that has proven true throughout my life, keeping God first.
It’s just like when you know who you are in Christ, then that’s where your value comes from. That’s where your identity comes from, not if I’m on the charts this week or not. That’s how you live a life of a rollercoaster. But to be steady, again, going back to those hymns, going back to the word, that’s the anchor.
Allen: Thank you so much for the time, Ms. Winans, and God continue to bless your ministry. I know it has blessed me.
UrbanFaith editor Allen Reynolds talked with Rev. William H. Lamar IV about his book Ancestors: Those Who Bless Us, Curse Us, Hold Us. He shares how believers can follow Jesus’ example by honoring their ancestors and drawing from their strength to combat injustice today. Excerpts are below, the full interview is above.
Allen
Pastor Lamar, you have this book coming out on ancestors, something that I think is so relevant right now. We know that there is an attack on Black history happening in this country, and we’re trying to do more and more to address the importance of recognizing our history, recognizing those who have come before us. Can you talk a little bit about why you decided to write a book about ancestors for a time like this?
Pastor Lamar
Allen, there’s so many ways I could get into it. Let me begin with what was sitting deep in my soul and spirit as I was wrestling with these ideas and as these ideas were really forcing their way up through me. In my grandmother’s house at 223 Madison Street, in a smallish town in Georgia, there was a portrait that hung by the front door of her Aunt Viney, a black and white portrait in an oval frame. Many Black folks have seen kind of sepia tone portraits like that. As a child, I was always intrigued. Why is she there? Because it’s like the portrait said, “Good morning to me every morning and good night every evening.” My grandmother began to tell me the story of Aunt Viney and how when her parents died, her parents died when she was so young [that] she had no memory of them, that Aunt Viney took her in, raised her and her sisters and literally saved her life. That portrait hung in the place of honor in my grandmother’s home and now it hangs in a place of honor in my home. What I realize now is hanging that portrait was not just about remembering Aunt Viney, but my grandmother was seeking for a certain energy and spirit to be in her home. That same spirit of hospitality, that same spirit of sacrifice. When she told me that story, she was trying to help me to become not only what Aunt Viney was, but who she was, the kind of person that she had become. Black people and peoples around the world have always centered ancestral presences, ancestral images, ancestral belongings as a way to root us, as a way to anchor us and as a way to be connected with energy beyond death. What I’m trying to say in this book is that we especially now cannot be hesitant or afraid to embrace the power of ancestors, especially black people because we have been taught that venerating and honoring our ancestors is pagan, that it is un-Christian, that there is something wrong with it. When there absolutely are no people who do not venerate or honor their ancestors and do it in explicit ways. I live in Washington, DC. Part of the book talks about there is no city as steeped in ancestral veneration as Washington, DC. The name of the city, the monuments of the city, the streets and the statuary of the city. Why would I honor energies of conquest and hegemony and white supremacy and not honor and venerate the energies that have made us the beautiful, free, wonderful, struggling, committed people that we have always been? I’m just very clear, especially for those of faith, because you cannot extract ancestral veneration from reading of the [scriptures]. There is no way to know God except ancestrally. God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, God of our mothers, God of our fathers, and also the very fact that Jesus himself climbed a mountain and had an ancestral visitation [with Moses and Elijah]. If he needed to be visited by and needed to visit his ancestors, surely we do.
Allen
One of the things that strikes me about this moment that I want you to want to ask you about is that we know that there’s an assault right now on black history and that there’s an effort as you might put it to disconnect us from our ancestors. Right? And in our schools, in our communities, can you talk about why it’s important for us to maintain and reinforce that connection? I would even call the ancestor veneration you talk about as [embracing] living history. How do we embrace our living history as black people in a moment like this?
Pastor Lamar
So, I’m blessed to be the pastor of Ernest Green. And Ernie Green was one of the Little Rock Nine who integrated central high schools. I remember one day I was talking with Brother Ernie and I asked him, I said, “Brother Green, how did you all marshal the energy to do what you did in Little Rock, to integrate that school in the midst of all that violence?” And he told me this. He said he had a teacher who taught them about revolts amongst the enslaved and maroon communities. They said that because he had learned those stories, and I would press the language, I would say, because the energy of those ancestors via the telling of the stories, that energy became part of his energy. When it was his time to stand, he said, if they could revolt and if the maroons could leave plantation economies, go deep into the woods and build a place of freedom and protect themselves, then I could stand in my day. What they know is if these stories disappear, our fight will disappear. GPS is able to “tell you” where you are because it is sending signals to satellites. And those satellites are sending signals back. Our ancestors send us energy to tell us where we are and who we are. And if we are disconnected from those stories, then we will not fight. We will not have the joy. We will not have the cultural clarity. We will not have the creativity. So D’Angelo died, the great artist. And if you listen to D’Angelo’s music, you know that D’Angelo has spent time with Marvin Gaye. You know that D’Angelo has spent time with Teddy Pendegrass. You know that D’Angelo has spent time with Billie Holiday. So, they know that if they erase our history, then we will live as those who are starting from zero. When really, we are not starting from zero. We have gotten a baton passed to us from those who ran before. And they understand the power of history. Now for those people, now notice at the same time they’re trying to erase our history, they got a 1776 commission. They are retelling their own story and they are scrubbing it of its evil, of its conquest, of its violence. They are telling them to command all of their political impulse to tell [that] story. If you go back and read what they said it is because they don’t want white children to feel guilt. They feel bad about who they are. They are preparing the next generations to continue their story of domination. If we are going to prepare our next generations for stories of community, for stories of love, for stories of shared human flourishing, then we cannot let them take our stories from us. And even if they keep doing what they are doing, they sure can’t tell you what stories to tell your daughters. They cannot tell me what to preach. And they cannot dictate what we write, what we sing. And so, we keep going forward. We keep going forward. They will not erase us. To take our stories is to take us. And we cannot let it happen.
Allen
For young people who may be in this moment trying to figure out, how can I move forward and be fruitful and still hold on to the sankofa, look backward and move forward? What wisdom would you share? What advice would you give them about how to move forward and flourishing in a world that seems to want to erase them and their history?
Pastor Lamar
What an extraordinary question. Let me tell you, the times have changed and the vehicles are different. I think the methodology is the same. My parents took me to libraries as a child. I was surrounded by books. I remember the joy I had as a child watching PBS when it aired the Shaka Zulu miniseries and when it aired Eyes on the Prize. And when I saw those images, I pulled every biography I could. I watched and read everything I could. And those ancestors became a part of me. Just like kids hear people say you are what you eat. When you eat that ancestral energy by reading and watching and asking questions, now those things are a part of me. Those stories are a part of me. I will never forget when I first read Up from Slavery. And then a few months ago, I was actually in Tuskegee in Mr. [Booker T.] Washington’s house, in his bathroom, in his office. And on the wall in Mr. Washington’s office was a commendation given to him by the trustees of Metropolitan African Methodist Episcopal Church that he hanged in his own office. That is the connection. When you read of the ancestors, when you open yourself to their stories, they will find you over and over again and they will cajole you toward a larger humanity and toward the excellence and service and joy necessary for us to flourish in this moment when they are committed to our destruction. What I am saying is I don’t want any black person saying, “This ain’t of God.” This is exactly of God. When the scripture says, “When you cross the river, put the stones there. So when the children come back and ask what mean these stones,” that is connecting them to their ancestry. That is connecting them to the technology of sacred memory. And what it will do is open for us new avenues to hear the voice of the divine mitigated through the voices of our mothers and fathers. That is what we all are called to do, especially for the young. Surround them in their rooms with pictures of the ancestors, with books of the ancestors. Tell them stories of the ancestors, and the ancestors will help to lift them to their true vocation. And they will be the warriors we need to fight with joy in days to come.
Steven Spielberg is one of the most influential and successful filmmakers of all time. He is best known for creating films that spawned some of the most enduring and recognizable franchises of all time and also singular films that won critical acclaim. He is the creator of Jaws, Jurassic Park, Indiana Jones, and E.T. But he also was the director of Schindler’s List, Close Encounters of The Third Kind, Saving Private Ryan, Catch Me If You Can, Lincoln, and Ready Player One. He simply creates powerful and profitable movies whether as the director, writer, or producer. His latest film, Disclosure Day, he keeps up his legacy of success and returns to his science fiction roots.
Disclosure Day is an alien movie. But its perspective is profoundly human. As we begin the film we are presented with a classic mystery box, a lot of seemingly random details presented with a pressing unknown connection that forces viewers to engage in the journey. The cast includes a few superstars such as Emily Blunt, Colin Firth, and Colman Domingo that we expect to give the stellar performances they give, but also some lesser known but brilliant performers such as Eve Hewson, Josh O’Connor, and Wyatt Russell. Together we watch as their extraordinary and simple characters face the existential threat of extraterrestrial encounters being disclosed not as fable but as fact to the entire world.
Their stories converge and contract in ways that raise profound questions about truth, uncertainty, choice, faith, doubt, responsibility, curiosity, and destiny. The subject of aliens among us and life out there beyond our planet is a conversation that is decades old. But the way Spielberg brings that conversation to life through the choices and tensions these humans face is illuminating. The result is a visually and philosophically awesome presentation that is stimulating and satisfying. And true to his craft, Disclosure Day is another film that is simply put just a good movie. I encourage you to see it for yourself and wrestle with one of the fundamental questions of faith it raises: how would it impact your faith in God if you knew that humans were not the most important beings in the universe?
For many young adults, faith is not a straight line—it’s a series of detours, collisions, and unexpected restarts. Troy Vaughn knows this journey intimately. A former Marine who experienced homelessness, addiction, and unresolved trauma, Troy’s life today looks radically different from what he once imagined. As a pastor, CEO, and author, his story is not one of overnight redemption, but of long obedience, deep healing, and learning to lead through service. He tells his story in his new bookFrom Skid Row to CEO: Your Past Doesn’t Disqualify You, It Prepares You.
In this interview about the book, Troy reflects on how faith met him in his darkest seasons, why healing requires honesty, and what it means to follow God when the path forward looks nothing like the plan you had.
Maina:
You talked about writing this book for years. What finally pushed you to sit down and do it?
Troy:
When I was released from the Los Angeles Mission, I knew something was changing. I didn’t have language for it yet, but I sensed that God was asking me to use my voice in a different way—not just preaching, not just leading, but telling the truth about my life.
About a year before that transition, a woman from my church—someone who worked in media—came to me and said, “The Lord told me to help you with your book.” At the time, I didn’t even think I had a book in me. But we started talking. She interviewed me, my family, people close to me. I journal a lot, so we collected years of notes, recordings, memories—everything.
Then after leaving the mission, all that material just sat there. And one day my wife gave me a T‑shirt in a box that said Write On. My mom used to say that to me before she passed away. It felt like God saying, “It’s time.” Not because I was ready—but because obedience doesn’t wait for comfort.
Maina:
What happened inside you as you started revisiting your story?
Troy:
It reopened wounds I thought were healed.
I started having dreams about my father. I’d wake up sweating, shaking. Trauma has a way of hiding until you finally slow down long enough to listen. Writing forced me to stop running.
When I left the Marine Corps, I had created a version of events that helped me survive. But as I revisited my records years later, I realized I had been released untreated. That explained so much—why I struggled, why I self‑medicated, why I spiraled.
For a long time, I thought faith meant ignoring pain. I’ve learned that faith actually invites us to face it—with God.
Maina:
A lot of people hit a breaking point later in life after years of pushing through. Did that resonate with your experience?
Troy:
Absolutely. I didn’t understand why I became addicted. I didn’t know I was self‑medicating. I didn’t have language for depression or trauma—especially growing up in a culture where mental health wasn’t discussed openly.
In our communities, millions of people struggle silently. We’re taught to be strong, to push through, to pray harder. But strength without healing eventually collapses.
For me, that collapse looked like seven years of homelessness. Not because I lacked faith—but because I lacked understanding.
Maina:
What would you say to young adults walking alongside family members—or even friends—who are struggling with mental health or incarceration?
Troy:
We have to stop pretending this isn’t part of our reality.
When Scripture talks about disease, it’s not just physical—it’s anything that creates disorder and disconnection. We avoid hard conversations because they make us uncomfortable. But healing doesn’t happen in silence.
If society feels distant or broken, the Church and the community still have power. Faith isn’t passive. It calls us to show up, to listen, and to respond with compassion instead of judgment. That’s not optional—it’s the mandate of Christ.
Maina:
What do you hope young readers take away from your book?
Troy:
I want them to see themselves.
Everyone has a skid row. It might not be homelessness—it could be anxiety, addiction, burnout, shame, or disappointment. A place where life didn’t turn out the way you expected.
This book isn’t meant to be read quickly and put down. It’s a working read. It asks you to engage, reflect, and be honest. Healing requires participation.
You don’t have to share my story to find yourself in it. You just have to be willing to tell the truth about where you are.
Maina:
You use the phrase “turn into the skid.” What does that mean spiritually?
Troy:
When you’re driving and your car hits a skid, you’re taught not to panic or pull away—you turn into it. That always stayed with me.
In life, when things fall apart, we do the opposite. We avoid, numb, distract, and perform. But the way through is actually inward.
Faith doesn’t help us escape reality—it gives us courage to face it. When we turn into the skid, we invite God into the mess instead of pretending it isn’t there.
Maina:
You’ve led organizations as a CEO. What did leadership teach you about faith?
Troy:
True leadership is servanthood.
Jesus didn’t lead by control or status—He led by proximity. He invested deeply in people and empowered them to carry the mission forward.
Too often, leadership in our culture is about being served. But the gospel flips that model upside down. Leadership should heal communities, not exploit them. When leaders forget that, imbalance follows—whether in business, ministry, or society.
Maina:
Seven years is a long time to feel stuck. How did you know you were finally moving forward?
Troy:
I realized I couldn’t do it alone.
Independence is celebrated, but isolation is dangerous. Scripture tells us two are better than one for a reason. Healing happens in connection.
When systems are broken—whether it’s mental health, homelessness, or injustice—you’ll always find division. Agreement creates movement. Community creates momentum.
Maina:
Looking back now, is this the life you imagined for yourself?
Troy:
Not at all. I thought I’d be a cartoonist.
I still draw. That creative part of me never left—it just waited. I’m actually working on a children’s book now called Randy the Red Ant’s Road to Redemption. It’s my story told through illustrations.
I’ve learned that calling isn’t cancelled—it evolves. God doesn’t waste any part of us.
In The Uprising, the familiar myth of Robin Hood is stripped of its romantic swashbuckling and reimagined through a deliberate, art house lens. Visually, it goes a wonderful job creating a drab, somber world that leans into the broken grit of its subject matter set during the Black Plague in Europe. At the center of this muted world stands Andrew Garfield, delivering a brilliant performance that grounds the entire project. Garfield sheds the polished heroism typically associated with the character, painting a portrait of a man weighted down by exhaustion, doubt, and raw vulnerability. He elevates Robin from a grand mythical ideal into a breathing, deeply flawed human being.
Steven Spielberg is one of the most influential and successful filmmakers of all time. He is best known for creating films that spawned some of the most enduring and recognizable franchises of all time and also singular films that won critical acclaim. He is the creator of Jaws, Jurassic Park, Indiana Jones, and E.T. But he also was the director of Schindler’s List, Close Encounters of The Third Kind, Saving Private Ryan, Catch Me If You Can, Lincoln, and Ready Player One. He simply creates powerful and profitable movies whether as the director, writer, or producer. His latest film, Disclosure Day, he keeps up his legacy of success and returns to his science fiction roots.