The Book of Acts records Paul's visit to Athens, a city sporting a god on every corner.  For a good Jew, a solid monotheist, a hater of idols who felt his skin crawl to be in such a place, he manages to come across as quite irenic: "I see that you are very religious…" (17:22).

I wonder what the apostle would say now, confronted not only by modern western idolatries but by resurgence in the pagan myths of his day conveyed through our most powerful medium - film. Several upcoming movies dip deeply from the well of ancient mythology. Soon we'll see new takes on the Greek pantheon (Percy Jackson and the Olympians: the Lightning Thief; Clash of Titans). Waiting in the wings are the Norse gods (Thor), at least the version popularized by Marvel Comics. Prince of Persia will offer a largely contrived but still polytheistic mythos.

Would the apostle find in these films a springboard for Christian proclamation? Would he see them as harmless devices for teaching moral truths? Or would he tell Christians to avoid such fare? How shall we approach them, consume them?

May I offer my own basic approach to movies? I start with this truth: God is the creator of the universe, the author of all creation, including the creative impulse in man. We reflect His image in many ways, not least being our impulse to create worlds of our own in stories, plays, and movies. Movies are fictional (even those "based on a true story," for the very medium fictionalizes) creations meant to transport their viewers into another world. The "gods" who bankroll, produce, script, direct, and act create a mythology if you will. They ask us to accept their myth, to believe it or at least suspend our disbelief for a couple hours. If, on these terms, Christians can view any other type of film legitimately, then we ought to be able to watch movies about "gods" as well.

Whether we'll profit by watching them, however, is uncertain. As Greg Garrett says in The Gospel according to Hollywood, "Hollywood films, even in whatever Golden Age people imagine they remember, have always been an uneasy combination of art and commerce, of personal vision and corporate product…" He goes on to say that whatever experience of the sacred we get from movies doesn't come because the film-makers consciously devoted themselves to it. It's up to the Christian viewer, then, to watch with discernment, taking some bits as food for thought, discarding others as inedible.

The "gods" in these new films might seem obvious and, therefore, to be either discounted as preposterous or shunned as idolatrous. I think, however, there are more gods here than meet the eye.

In the months leading up to their debut, what have we already seen? The Lightning Thief trailer strikes with a powerful sense of déjà vu. The movie is based on one of a series of books about Percy Jackson, a high school student (older onscreen than in the book) that gets into trouble with the gods of Olympus. Touting its director for Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, the trailer goes out of its way to tell us how three heroes (think Harry, Hermione, and Ron) "must stand and fight." The plot and situations, a youngster learning his true supernatural heritage, discovering latent powers and abilities, etc., are only too familiar. Obviously, Twentieth Century Fox hopes it's not too late to cash in on the success of a certain boy wizard. What's The Lightning Thief about? Not so much pagan gods as the almighty dollar!

Clash of Titans is a remake of a 1981 film that featured the imaginative effects of the great Ray Harryhausen, including a horde of man-sized scorpions. Most who will see the film won't be familiar with the mythology upon which it's based or Harryhausen's achievements. More is the pity. Though the trailers feature the seamless effects of dedicated professionals (and much bigger scorpions) again there's this sense of "been there, done that," of being beaten by men with digital clubs. Just looking at previews, the discerning Christian viewer will ask what should concern him more: an ancient pagan mythology or our own modern worship of the Latest Thing, our consumption of ever-expanding spectacle (along with washtubs of popcorn and barrel-sized drinks). Which gods are more to be feared, the Greeks'—or ours?

I'm sure Thor will be nice to look at with his long, blond hair and gorgeous costume. Asgard will no doubt be CGI-glorious. But I doubt we'll get a hint of the irony—say, a scene in which Loki appears in church, demanding worship. Don't look for depth of human or theological understanding in any of these films. For that, you'll need to open C.S. Lewis' absorbing novel Till We Have Faces. Laden with Greek mythology and pagan ritual, Faces nevertheless manages to reveal the complexities of human nature as well as explore the relationship between God and man in a satisfying way.

In Spartacus, Charles Laughton's crooked but loveable politician, Gracchus, states his position on the gods: "Privately, I believe in none of them.  Publically, I believe in them all. " I think the same will ultimately be said of the crowds that come to see gods and monsters. They will come thirsting for spectacle, for derring-do, for champions through which to live vicariously. They will leave thirsty still, for the films are ultimately about the profit and power of the little gods who make them.  They will come empty of belief, save for the willingness to suspend disbelief for a while. They will leave empty and exhausted, ill-equipped to fight the monsters that roam free outside the theatre. They will come as orphans of a bankrupt culture, pawns of divorce, oppressed by powers and principalities, never knowing their own hidden heritage as children of God.

The discerning Christian viewer might watch without harm. He might even think of questions to ask his friends, his youth group, about the religious impulse in man—where it comes from, why people would think of divinity in terms of plurality, what the "gods" of our day look like.

Then again, he might simply weep.