The Green Mile (1999), adapted from Stephen King’s novel and directed by Frank Darabont, is a haunting, beautiful film about life, death, miracles, and injustice. Set in a Southern prison during the Great Depression, it follows the lives of death row guards and inmates—especially one extraordinary man named John Coffey, who seems to embody compassion, healing, and innocence in a world saturated with guilt and violence.
Through the lens of A Course in Miracles, this film becomes a deeply moving portrait of the illusion of sin, the transformative power of love, and the Christ-like presence that still walks among us, unnoticed and misunderstood.
John Coffey, the towering Black man with childlike gentleness and a miraculous healing gift, is a Christ symbol if ever there was one. But he is not portrayed as a savior in the traditional sense—he is a mirror to everyone around him. He holds no resentment toward the men who fear him. He responds with compassion to those who would harm him. And, like Jesus, he accepts his role in the unfolding of events not because he deserves to suffer, but because he sees the innocence in others that they cannot see in themselves.
In A Course in Miracles, sin is defined not as a crime or a stain on the soul—but as a mistake, a misperception to be corrected, not punished. And John Coffey lives this truth. He feels the pain of others, draws it out of them, and—most importantly—does not condemn. In this way, he becomes a living embodiment of the Course’s definition of forgiveness: the recognition that what we thought happened did not truly occur in the Mind of God.
Paul Edgecomb, the head prison guard played by Tom Hanks, is transformed by John’s presence. He enters the film with a sense of duty and justice, but little awareness of the deeper truth: that justice without love is empty. As Paul witnesses John’s miraculous healings—and the quiet dignity with which he accepts his wrongful fate—his own hardened view of guilt, punishment, and the role of authority begins to crack. This is the shift the Course seeks in all of us: from judgment to compassion, from law to grace.
The most heartbreaking—and enlightening—moment of the film is when John Coffey, who could easily escape, chooses to accept death. He says, “I’m tired, boss. Tired of being on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain… I’m tired of people being ugly to each other.” He’s not giving up—he’s giving in to a higher Will. He’s not a victim—he’s a volunteer. In Course terms, he has risen above the battlefield.
And in choosing not to resist, he becomes the most powerful person in the room. Just as Jesus submitted not to cruelty, but to the illusion of cruelty—knowing it could not touch who he truly was—John accepts the role, trusting that something greater is at work. He knows, as the Course teaches, that “the body is merely a means of communication,” and his presence has already delivered the message.
After John’s execution, Paul is forever changed. Not merely by the injustice—but by the sacredness he witnessed. He carries the memory like a sacrament, not of a tragedy, but of a visitation. In ACIM language, Paul has been taught by the teacher of love. He has seen holiness where the world saw guilt. And he has learned that judgment is never ours to make.
The Green Mile is not a film about miracles in the Hollywood sense. It is about the miracle of perception. The miracle of seeing the divine in the condemned, the light in the darkness, the truth behind appearances. It reminds us that salvation isn’t found in grand displays—it’s found in the choice to see differently.
And that, A Course in Miracles tells us, is the only choice that truly matters.
