I wasn't sure I was going to see The Book of Eli: I'm not especially a fan of post-apocalyptic films, or (for the most part) graphically violent ones.

But the premise got me curious: Denzel Washington as a man protecting the last Bible on earth. So did the fact that Washington is a Christian and wanted to make a film that wasn't shy about his faith. So I decided to take a look, figuring I'd at least get a column out of it.

I'm glad I went. Which isn't necessarily to say that you should. Read on (or read a fuller review here) and decide for yourself.

Washington's good intentions aside, the movie itself has problems. For one thing, much of the violence (severed limbs, etc.) is not only graphic but needlessly so (unlike, say, Saving Private Ryan). On top of that, the film suffers from plot holes and action-movie clichés that get in the way of the message Washington wants to send. Eli can easily take out half a dozen bad guys at a time with his blade (samurai style), and he does it more than once. Things like that make it hard to transition your mind into serious-film mode when Eli says something profound. It's like mixing a sermon with a Steven Seagal movie: It's an awkward fit, to say the least, and it makes it hard to let the words sink in.

All that's too bad. Because The Book of Eli touches on some worthwhile themes, and it'd be nice to keep the focus on them.

When a girl too young to remember what life was like before "the flash" (presumably a nuclear blast) 30 years ago, Eli replies: "People had more than they needed. We had no idea what was precious and what wasn't. We threw away things people would kill each other for now."

He's not just talking about material things, though that's what most people in his world would assume. What's most precious to Eli is the Word. In his world, all the Bibles have been lost or burned decades ago: Some people blamed the Book — and religion in general — for the war. But Eli treasures his, reading it every day and committing it to memory.

And it's not just for his personal comfort: He's on a mission from God to preserve it and take it to a place where the Word can be spread. (Just how he does that is a point we'll skip for the sake of those who want to see the movie: Suffice to say that the Word spreads in much the same way it did centuries ago.)

If you want to get a discussion going, there's plenty to work with right there.

We not only throw away things people would've treasured in another place and time, we hardly even notice we're doing it. Most of the people who've ever lived would never get rid of (say) clothes when they get a little worn out, much less when they get unfashionable. They couldn't imagine even owning a TV or a computer, much less getting rid of them when the picture quality or the speed isn't quite what they wanted.

Not that there's anything necessarily wrong with that, for those of us who can so easily afford it. But there may be something wrong with our attitude about it. We should at least notice how uniquely prosperous we are and feel grateful for it, not treat it like our birthright and grumble about how tired we are of the old junk. (The way I did about the five-year-old computer I just replaced.) Even today, a whole lot of people around the world — some of them not too far from U.S. shores — would be thrilled with a fraction of that prosperity.

What's worse is when we throw away the Word, if only by neglect. No one's burned our Bibles, but then again, no one's had to when those Bibles stay on our shelves with all the other books. OK, that's probably not you, since you're reading Boundless. But even for some of us, it's easy to start treating Scripture reading like a dreary chore instead of a precious treasure. It's an old problem, and Scripture itself tells us about it. Again, though, it should get our attention when we see this happening. When we catch ourselves taking the greatest riches of all and devaluing them, it tells us something about where our hearts are going.

Of course, neglecting the Word's not the only way to misuse it. Which brings me back one more time to some thoughts sparked by The Book of Eli.

Eli's antagonist is a warlord-type named Carnegie (Gary Oldman), who's obsessed with finding a Bible, but not for religious reasons. He remembers it as a source of power — power words, as the phrase goes. He wants to use it to expand his influence beyond what he can grab with physical force. "It's a weapon aimed at the hearts and minds of the weak and the desperate," he tells his men. "It'll give us control over them."

The words can come off melodramatic in the mouth of a movie villain. That doesn't change the fact that more than a few people have tried something similar in real life — using the Word for their own purposes instead of letting the Word work on them. Sometimes they're cynical, but sometimes they even try to convince themselves. "Power," wrote John Adams to Thomas Jefferson, "always thinks it has a great soul and vast views beyond the comprehension of the weak; and that it is doing God's service when it is violating all His laws."

The first people who come to mind include some dictators and would-be holy men. As usual, though, we're probably making a mistake if we're looking for such examples before we look closer to home — like, say, in the mirror. Ever try to use Scripture to justify doing something you want instead of really seeking what God wants? Me too. I'd better notice that plank in my own eye before I worry about the speck in Gary Oldman's eye.

Besides, Carnegie does have a point, in his twisted way: Scripture is full of power words. But like all the bad guys, he misses the most important point: The power's not ours to take. It comes from the Author.