How can Christians respond to patterns power and sex abuse, like those reported Sept. 12 by Publishers Weekly?

This series aims to answer some of those questions with responses to what went wrong before. In part 1 and part 2, I suggested we:

1. Listen to abuse victims.
2. Don’t respond with particular lines.
3. Reconsider whether victims must “forgive” the accused.
4. Don’t make judgments about salvation.
5. Don’t treat a conference or Christian group like a church.
6. Encourage all Christian leaders to act “above reproach.”
7. Don’t reject all the accused person’s creative work.
8. Don’t totally “shun” the person accused of abuse.

On a personal note, I have literally lost sleep over this issue. I’ve yelled a lot too.

But that’s nothing compared to what victims have gone through—even as they try to figure out how or whether they should share their concerns with someone else.

Here are the final four responses to abuse accusations in Christian conferences:

9. Consider going back to “old ways” of ethical conduct.
10. Don’t slander people who know, or defend, the accused abuser.
11. Be shocked when accused men “repent” to everyone except God.
12. Lament that these situations often come with no-win scenarios (for now).

9. Consider going back to ‘old ways’ of ethical conduct.

For this one, I’ll narrow my focus to one series of accusations in the article. This relates to what can only be described—quite generously—as a pattern of nasty, sexually charged “propositions,” often in a “joking” manner, that one person shared in various circumstances, both one-on-one to women and among a group.

Some women persuaded themselves they could just deal with this. But they could not, and by sharing with others, they believe they found a dangerous pattern.

Sinners gonna sin. No “rule” here, whether man-made or biblical, can stop them.

But it’s worth noting that the apostle Paul (him again!) specifically told us this:

… Sexual immorality and all impurity or covetousness must not even be named among you, as is proper among saints. Let there be no filthiness nor foolish talk nor crude joking, which are out of place, but instead let there be thanksgiving. For you may be sure of this, that everyone who is sexually immoral or impure, or who is covetous (that is, an idolater), has no inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and God.¹

“Neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor jesting …” (Ephesians 5:4, KJV)

Christians, even if we aren’t abusive, we have gotten entirely too lax about this rule.

Yes, I will call it a rule. This isn’t “legalism.” What an insipid notion that would be. It says: “Let there be no filthiness nor foolish talk nor crude joking, which are out of place.” These are absolute terms. They hit me between the eyes, particularly the part about “crude joking.” Paul says that in no way does this fit “among you,” God’s people.

By the way, Paul does not say, “Instead, pray and fast and study the Bible.” He says, “instead let there be thanksgiving.” This is the best kind of party—a celebration, not of evils that “must not even be named among you,” but of our God-given gifts.

Sure, we can debate about whether this kind of “crude joking” belongs in our fiction. Or we might quibble what “must not even be named” means (after all, Scripture itself “names” sexual immorality and other sins). But don’t miss the point. Paul is saying: Don’t. Even. Go. There. It’s not about “legalism.” It’s about holiness.

It’s time we got back to that standard, to please God, “legalism” claims be damned.

And as one reader speculated about such a speech guideline among Christians: “It won’t prevent [abuse], but [the rule] does expose [abuse]. Because if we all draw lines earlier, it becomes more evident who is NOT drawing lines.”

Also, literary agent Steve Laube (who also oversees Enclave Publishing) wrote this:

Earlier this year I helped a conference director craft a “Conference Code of Conduct” and have adapted it as a statement for our agency:

Every person involved in our agency is expected to act in a manner that reflects biblical values and to act in a manner that pleases God. We are expected to be respectful and treat everyone the same – regardless of rank, gender, or socioeconomic position. Christian men and women are expected to maintain the highest moral standards as a reflection of God’s holiness. While much of today’s culture has abandoned these precepts, the biblical principles for behavior are essential. Our actions and words are a testimony of who we are as Christ followers.

(Ps. 51:9–10, Phil. 4:8, Ps. 41:12, 1 Cor. 6:19–20, Ps. 24:3–5, Gal 1:10)

This is not a debate. There should not be a question about how we behave as followers of Christ. Our words and behavior are indeed a testimony to Him whose name we proclaim. … In our weakness, we must rely on Christ who gives us strength (2 Corinthians 12:9). That is why we are urged toward sanctification (Romans 6:19), to the “holy calling” (2 Timothy 1:9), and to “walk worthy” (Ephesians 4:1).²

10. Don’t slander people who know, or defend, the accused abuser.

Briefly here: the Holy Spirit is ridiculously patient. And some decent Christians are ridiculously naïve and sheltered about what abuse is, how it works, and how they ought to respond when someone says so-and-so has a pattern of power-abuse.

We must be patient with these people until such time as they may finally get it.

What we can’t do is get angry, or yell at them over social media, or (this happens most often on Twitter, no doubt) say that they’re guilty of the exact same sins as the original abuser. That’s not true and not helpful to teach that person. And on a practical level, it doesn’t work. It only feeds the persistent myths that a victim who accuses someone is only doing this for attention, or herself is guilty of leading him on, or any of that nonsense.³

Unless you yourself are a victim, still struggling with the harm and in need of protection, engage with this naïve defender of an abuser. Love that enemy. Dump some verbal coals on his head, Romans 12–style. Don’t confuse the defender’s bumbling naivete with the actual abuse done by a twisted perpetrator.

11. Be shocked when accused men publicly ‘repent’ to everyone except to God.

If you retain nothing from this article, remember this part.

In many cases, when high-profile Christians are reputably accused of abusing their power, they tend to minimize their offense. They talk about how they’ve hurt their own family, or their church. They may say this was a one-off sin (when other victims may beg to differ). In many cases, they only emphasize the human harm.

But they don’t speak anything like David’s repentance at his own sexual sin born of power-abuse: “Against you [God], you only, have I sinned / and done what is evil in your sight …”⁴

No expression of repentance before God.

No mention of Jesus or the gospel or the fact that any sin, no matter how terrible it is to human victims, is foremost a sin against God almighty.

No mention of God or their own professed Christian faith.

That really bothers me.

It bothers me almost as much that it took me so long to see the missing piece.

Without such expression, these statements of regret have nothing to do with Christ. Frankly, they sound little different from lip-biting apologies formed mainly to CYA and make the lawyers happy. They sound like PR 101, not Gospel Confession 101. PR 101 says “repent” for the bare minimum only as people find out. The gospel says to repent for everything on exactly the scale as the offense is known or damaging.

Christian leaders, if/when we do sin, we must show that we repent first to God.

As my Speculative Faith colleague Rebecca LuElla Miller wrote:

Repentance is more than saying sorry. I think there should be some awareness expressed that these sins are against God and have hurt His name, that they are betrayals of those to whom they should have been faithful (family and friends–aren’t there wives and even children of these men who are being affected by their sinful behavior?) I think an admission that these sins are not some small thing, that they aren’t wrong merely because they were caught, that they aren’t wrong merely because the consequences are grave, but rather they are wrong because they are an offense, first, against a pure and holy God–seems to me that’s most like David crying out to God in Psalm 51.

12. Lament that these situations often come with no-win scenarios (for now).

In pondering these accusations, praying for victims and friends, and planning how or whether I ought to even say anything, I have felt much like Dr. Stephen Strange.

That’s because I can’t help trying to plan out alternate scenarios to defeat this evil. What about this verse? That verse? How is a church like/unlike a conference? Is there any way we can identify potential power-abusers (who themselves might have witnessed or been subject to power abuse) and put them through discipleship first? What did the local church do? Not do? How can we do better? How can we plan, train, or program to get the level of power-abuse down to zero percent? How could we possibly avoid the threat of digital “mob rule” or false accusations?

In Avengers: Infinity War, our heroes are desperate to save the universe from the mad genocidal titan Thanos. Dr. Strange magically gazes forward in time to view alternate futures. What if our heroes did this? Or that? Or this? Strange witnesses 14,000,605 possible futures. But they achieve victory over Thanos—in only one.

Despite all we do, we’re facing a no-win scenario. We can’t out-moralize, out-think, or even out-disciple our way into a Church, much less a world, in which Christian leaders won’t be abusing their power to harass, assault, or even try to rape victims.

There’s only one way—one possible future to put an end to mad maniacs for good.

That’s the return of Jesus. When he returns, to wrap up this era and redeem his creation, he’ll put all things right. Everything sad will come untrue. All our “light and momentary afflictions” (2 Cor. 4:17) will be only the cover and the title page, as the story advances and finally, at last, we will enter the never-ending adventure.

Yes, saying this in the middle of grief and abuse may sound tacky. Again, it’s like reminding the grieving parent that she’ll see her child again at the resurrection when she’s still weeping against the red and blue flashes of ambulance lights.

That’s why we don’t say this truth there. We say it here. We proclaim it, explore it, and celebrate it, in our articles, in our casual comments to each other, in our church teaching and sermons and friendships, in our writers’ conferences and publications and books. And we explore and celebrate this truth in our fantastic stories.

Stop now if you haven’t seen part 1, with the first of twelve responses to abuse accusations against leaders in Christian conferences and creative fantasy writing.

This is a huge concern for fans of Christian fantastic fiction—a Publishers Weekly article that revealed four individuals accused of bad and/or abusive behavior patterns. Two of these have played parts in the Christian fantastical community.

In part 1, I offered four initial responses:

Listen to abuse victims. Don’t respond with these lines. Reconsider whether victims must “forgive” the accused. Don’t make judgments about salvation.

Let’s move onto the next four responses. Following these, however, I’ll share some bonus content in response to concerns raised over the weekend after part 1.

5. Don’t treat a conference or Christian group like a church.

This theme is worth an article or series all on its own. But Christians need to avoid treating an organization run by Christians, such as Lorehaven, or a group with a name like the X Christian Writers Conference, as if it’s the same as a local church.

They’re not.

To review, a local church has biblical teaching/preaching, regular meetings (weekly on Sundays is good), and a kind of membership (the more official, the better).¹ A church is chiefly interested in training Christians for their real-life journeys of worshiping Jesus and becoming like Jesus and sharing the gospel anywhere.

Whereas a Christian writers’ conference, while often run by Christians, is chiefly interested in teaching about the craft of writing and the industries of publishing.

This means a Christian-run group can hire or fire staff based on some factors that relate to biblical truths. They might ask the staff writer to give verbal or documented assent to a faith statement. (SpecFaith and Lorehaven Magazine do this.) They might have ethical standards based on biblical expectations for the professing Christian. They also might take into account whether the person is skilled at their craft, or has sold such-and-such many copies, or has a proven record of volunteerism.

But it’s not the Christian group’s job to play church. They can’t discern a person’s real faith, or counsel weak members, or mediate disputes like a pastor can (or should). It’s their job to be Christians who glorify Jesus as best they can, while wearing other hats, like “publisher” or “conference director” or “author.”

Therefore, if a Christian writer/author is reputably accused of terrible and abusive behavior, then it’s perfectly within a Christian group leader’s rights to say, “You’re off the team” to protect the organization’s integrity. They needn’t play by Matthew 18 rules (Matthew 18 talks about a last-ditch appeal to church elders, not Christian leaders in other contexts). And they don’t enforce local church membership rules.

To be sure, this has some side effects, like the chance of hearing silly teaching, or flat-out ridiculous heresy, at an event labeled “Christian.” That’s where we practice wisdom, and make sure to carry different expectations for a Christian church versus a Christian-run group or conference or company or anything else.

6. Encourage all Christian leaders to act ‘above reproach.’

That being said, Christian groups/conference leaders/etc. would do well to make their faculty decisions based on clear and specific communication with a faculty member’s local church. They may also require that person to follow the baseline ethical requirements from the apostle Paul’s rules for biblical pastors:

The saying is trustworthy: If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task. Therefore an overseer must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money. He must manage his own household well, with all dignity keeping his children submissive, for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for God’s church? He must not be a recent convert, or he may become puffed up with conceit and fall into the condemnation of the devil. Moreover, he must be well thought of by outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace, into a snare of the devil.²

“He must have a good report of them which are without” (1 Timothy 3:7, KJV).

Lest we assume this is some kind of super-spiritual Christian Leader’s Guide, read again and think again. This stuff is basic. Overseers—that is, church leaders—must be above reproach. You can’t even get legitimately tagged with nasty accusations. Be committed to your spouse. Be serious and respectable. Control your impulses. Be able to teach. Don’t get drunk. Don’t be quarrelsome (this is especially necessary in our volatile social-media age). Don’t be a greedy jerk. Be a good parent. And don’t be a potentially arrogant newbie to the job who has a bad rep with the world.

Any Christian, leader or not, ought to strive to follow these requirements as the minimum standard for above-reproach biblical character and ethics.

Any Christian who fails at them, especially regularly, isn’t qualified to act as a leader in any Christian-run conference, nonprofit, or other group. It’s a most loving action to send such a person away from the group leadership and back to gospel basics—and, we can hope, this means back to the local church, where qualified overseers can walk him through an official, biblical process of repentance and restoration.

7. Don’t reject all the accused person’s creative work.

Remember when Bill Cosby was reputably accused by several women, not just of harassing them but of far worse actions? Suddenly, everyone wasn’t sure how to view those old The Cosby Show episodes. Are they now “tainted”? Should they be pulled from network reruns or streaming services? (One service did pull it.)

Someone asked me how he might respond, now, to the novels or other creative work of a Christian who is accused of abusive behavior. Is this work “tainted”?

My partial thought: yes, it’s possibly “tainted.” But not so much like it’s infested with spiritual “germs.” It might be more like the “meat sacrificed to idols” that Paul spoke about (1 Cor. 8–10), whose danger is not based on fake god-characters with actual power, but on the weak conscience of the person who associates the meat with someone else’s sinful behavior (in this case, the book’s creator). Thus, if you feel personally betrayed by a book author, it might be best to put it away for a while.

However, you could also choose to redirect your praise. Yes, our Creator gave that person—later accused of abuse—his talents. So trace your gratitude back to God for seeing fit to allow us to have that great story, or TV show, or other creative work. The biblical doctrine of “common grace” means that God lets his sun shine on the evil and righteous alike (Matt. 5:45), and that even evil people know how to give good gifts to their children (Matt. 7:11). Jesus doesn’t have a problem calling people evil but acknowledging they do good things. Thus, in theory, neither should we.

8. Don’t totally ‘shun’ the person reputably accused of abuse.

All this next goes wholly for other people involved in the situation, who know someone reputably accused of power-abuse, but have not themselves suffered.

For those who have suffered, they should keep separate from the abusive person for a time—perhaps even for all this life. Yes, in the best-case scenario, abuser repents and the victim forgives, leading to reconciliation, before they die. But in a sinful age, that’s not always possible. Just as some Christian people may always struggle with abusive behavior, victims may always struggle with the pain.

Now, what about others who know what’s going on and know both parties? Should we join any kind of “mob” solely on the victim’s side? Cut off the accused person? Act like that man will always remain outside the grace of God for eternity?

No, no, and no.

Even in a situation of official disfellowship, the apostle Paul did not command the Corinthian church to shun a man who was shacking up with his father’s wife (1 Cor. 5). Paul said that, after a process of pleading with this person, the church should:

“… deliver this man to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, so that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord. … Purge the evil person from among you.”³

Paul doesn’t say “never speak to him again.” He doesn’t say “hide yo kids, hide yo wife.” He doesn’t advocate anything like the practice of “shunning,” or the nasty response of a cult that won’t even allow member families to talk with a family member who has rejected the false teaching. Instead, the unrepentant offender was simply not allowed to participate in local church gatherings. That’s for his salvation. If they kept letting him participate, they would be telling him a lie: “It’s all good.” However, that does not mean they could not get together with him on their own. Or say hello in the market (while shopping for meat-not-sacrificed-to-idols).

Of course, if we’re not part of any local-church discipline project, our situation may be different. Still, the general principles apply. I would not automatically “unfriend” anyone accused of power-abuse. I would not go out and try to sabotage his work. In fact, I might keep in friendly touch, and thereby remain a voice who can encourage this person to pursue holiness, repent when needed, and commit to a local church.

If we who are strong don’t do this in love and service to those accused of abusive behavior, who will? Christ saves far worse figures—even the apostle Paul himself.

Tomorrow, we’ll wrap this very challenging series with some thoughts about avoiding such abuse problems in the future.

Bonus content: responses to comments, complaints, questions

Below, I’ll respond to concerns raised after the first part’s release on Friday.

“What about false accusations?”

Earlier versions of this article (originally a single piece) included a partial response to this real threat: that some people will falsely accuse someone of power-abuse and/or sexual harassment.

However, I chose to remove that part in order to stay focused on this topic.

In this series, I’ve chosen to focus only on the challenge of reputable accusations that certain people have been witnessed committing a pattern of abuse and harassment against more than one individual. This means the kind that we saw in the Publishers Weekly article. This also means the kind that have already been verified by two or three witnesses. So the topic of false accusations, such as by a single individual, is a valid topic to explore, but it’s outside of my scope here.

“Etc. etc. Judge Brett Kavanaugh etc. etc.?”

I’m also not commenting on current national-level controversies that involve political figures. I would point out, however, that in that case, we have only one person who has accused someone of a single offense.⁴ Wisdom calls for careful evaluation of this kind of claim, because the accused person can have so much power and influence. However, I think Scripture has good reason to insist that claims against anyone must include more than one witness:

“A single witness shall not suffice against a person for any crime or for any wrong in connection with any offense that he has committed. Only on the evidence of two witnesses or of three witnesses shall a charge be established.”⁵

“If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother. But if he does not listen, take one or two others along with you, that every charge may be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses.”⁶

Do not admit a charge against an elder except on the evidence of two or three witnesses.⁷

“Your language sounded secular here, and here, and here.”

Yes, I’m aware that some people make associations between, for example, the phrase “abuse of power” and secular, or anti-Christian, conceptions of what this means. That’s not how I’m using this phrase. Note that in part 1, I clearly stated that I’m talking about original sin that’s common to all persons. Humans, as a rule, have abused their God-given power to rebel against him.

I’m not referring to some “feminist” notion that only one group—such as men—have all the power, so any time you oppose them, you’re on the side of the angels. We can talk about that some other time. Here, again, I’m focusing.

“But someone could use XYZ thing that you said to sin.”

Other doctrines that can be hijacked for sin include: the Trinity, God’s written word, Jesus’s humanity, Jesus’s divinity, biblical calls for influencing the world for justice, biblical calls for the church emphasizing gospel missions, common grace, total depravity, the cultural mandate, Heaven, Hell, repentance, forgiveness, angels, demons, spiritual warfare, eschatology …

To sum: “someone could use that truth to sin” is not even a valid objection.

“But the article didn’t count as a real investigation.”

Although I’m referring to the original Publishers Weekly article, my goal is to write this series so that it would hold up even if an angel descended from Heaven and told us we’d got it all wrong about the innocent Person X.

I also hasten to point out that, with the original folks named in the article, most folks on the internet are catching up to this late. Unlike, say, a Twitter war, provoked by a single person’s spurious claim and taken up by a social-media mob, these online conversations are the echo. People involved—in conferences, and I hope among churches and friends of the victims and accused—have already begun doing their thing, in some cases months ago.

Four professing Christian men, in the Christian writing industry, have been accused of committing abuse of power to different degrees.

Two of them have been previously named and featured here on Speculative Faith.

Publishers Weekly’s website proclaimed the story last week, ¹ although women have already been carefully sharing these accounts around Christian writing and conference circles for years.

It should matter to us where these stories come from. It matters that any man, professing to be a Christian, has been accused of this kind of behavior. It matters that any person who associates his name with Jesus Christ (the literal meaning of Christ-ian is “Christlike person”) also has his name associated with these evils.

(Sensitivity alert: it’s necessary to describe these acts to understand them.)

• Physical sexual assault
• Begging women for sex
• Proposing sexual hookups by email
• Soliciting sex in exchange for career favors
• Lying and covering up these abuses of power
• Insisting that patterns of abuse are not typical or no big deal.

Just as the torrent of accusations against abusive leaders in entertainment call for prophetic Christian engagement,² so do accusations against “our own” people require serious attention. And serious consequences. And serious challenge to ourselves, to determine what, if anything, we can do to glorify God, protect victims, and challenge any person who is tempted to abuse his power in creative industries.

I’ve written twelve do– and don’t–style ideas about how Christians may respond to claims of abuse. Part two will release Monday, and part three will release Tuesday.

Note that although these may apply to the article’s specific situations, I’m thinking in general terms about how Christians respond to claims of abuse committed by other Christians. But first, some personal housekeeping:

• First, these accusations affect victims of abuse and harassment. Set aside all the doctrinal or professional factors. Real people, mostly women, have gone through a lot to tell their stories. I’ve asked several of them, along with Lorehaven magazine staff and supporters, to give early feedback on this article. They might also arrive here to comment. They might share the article and repeat part of their stories. Take great care and courtesy in response to their openness.
• These accusations affect Speculative Faith. As I stated above, some of the men mentioned have written articles at Speculative Faith. At this point, we won’t take down the articles (see my sixth response in part 2). No one’s made such a call of us. But, it’s worth noting that if we could have known these individuals were accused of this behavior, we would have, at minimum, declined to publish.
• These accusations affect our spinoff magazine, Lorehaven. Last fall, based on early and partial knowledge about these accusations, we changed the leadership of Lorehaven I’m now the sole publisher and editor-in-chief of this web magazine, which aims to help Christian fans find truth in fantastic stories.

With that in mind, let’s explore twelve Christian responses to accusations like these.

1. Listen to abuse victims.

This should go without saying. A lot of this should. But often a Christian who learns of these accusations³ behaves just like the naïve Christian who hurls a quote of Romans 8:28 in the direction of the grieving parent who just lost her baby in a car wreck. “Well, ‘all things work together for good …’!”

With the greatest possible respect: these folks must shut up.

Listen to the victim. If this isn’t someone you know in person, but whose words you are reading in an article or social media comment, pay attention to her account.⁴ Don’t talk. Just listen. You can work through your responses later. If you don’t yet believe her, maybe because you know or respect the person being accused, maybe you can say, “I listened to what you said and I’m so sorry you are hurting. I’m thinking about it and I’m also praying for you.” That’s it.

2. Don’t respond with these lines.

Every time I think maybe we’ve gotten past this nonsense, I see new examples of it:

“Why is it always about sex?”

My answer: Nonsense. It’s not about abuse of sex. It’s about abuse of power. (If it were about sex, he can get that just by going to the internet and watching porn.)

It’s not just social science that supports this claim. So does the Bible. All sin comes from our abuse of power. It’s our failure, going all the way back to Genesis 3, to steward our gifts and role as God our Creator intended. That’s idolatry. And it’s pride. Pride, which C. S. Lewis called “the utmost evil,” is an abuse of power.

“Wow, but he never did that sort of thing to me!”

My answer: Congratulations. No, really. It sounds like God protected you by some means, either because you were not that person’s “type” or because you were not vulnerable in this area. Very often, abusers target women who already struggle with poor self-image, or depression, or previous abuse, or thoughts of suicide.

Target, groom, push, defend, push more, suggest it’s her idea, lather, rinse, repeat.

If you’re strong, use your strength to support that vulnerable woman. As a Christian who is emotionally or spiritually strong in a particular area, that is your sober duty.

“Well, the way women dress these days …”

I actually saw someone say this. It’s an old and bad notion. It brings to mind the disciples’ mechanical cause/effect view in John 9:2 of “someone’s sin always causes human suffering.” This is not a thing godly Christians say to people suffering abuse, any more than we would say, “Well, he should have been buckled in” to the parent of a child killed in a car accident. That argument presumes there is something to the notion of “ladies who dress modestly⁵ won’t be sexually harassed.” If I had space here, I’d fiercely contest that notion also. It’s false, and fails to account for a man’s responsibility.

“None of us are perfect.”

Repetitions of this confuse me. At best, they’re awkward attempts to change the topic, and redirect to safer, thousand-foot views of general “mistakes” and human “brokenness” rather than specific acts of human evil. At worst, they’re an attempt to ignore these potent and terrifying biblical truths: that each of us is guilty of sin, and sin brings God’s judgment and damnation to Hell, and sometimes we must confront specific sins against specific people and make tough decisions how to respond. That goes triple when the power-abusers will, if unchecked, hurt even more people.

“None of us are perfect (so what’s for dinner?)” is not how Jesus replied when facing specific instances of power abuse, or the reality of sin in every human heart.

“Maybe she started it.”

This utterly fails to take into account the power dynamics of the relationship: pastor/church member, mentor/conference newbie, publisher or agent/writer. In any relationship like this, it’s the leader who is more accountable, not the follower.

“If men and women could just avoid each other …”

This is often called “The Mike Pence Rule,” although the concept was first associated with Billy Graham and I’d prefer the late evangelist keep it. In certain contexts, such as those involving a fearful or spiritually weak man, avoiding one-on-one meetings might be wise. But at best this is a remedial solution, not an ultimate solution.

The Bible talks about treating “older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters, with absolute purity” (1 Timothy 5:2, NIV). It does not encourage us to avoid one another based on fear, and does not lay out a Billy Graham/Mike Pence rule.

Now, in my case, I have spent lots of time in virtual “one-on-one” rooms, with several women, preparing this very article. In my editorial roles at Speculative Faith and Lorehaven, I simply must do that—it’s my job and it’s their job! However, my wife and I also have guidelines in place for similar purposes as the Rule. She has my passwords, and we frequently talk about the results of these discussions. Thus, in a world that’s confused and fearful about how the heck men and women can avoid nonsense while also getting things done and respecting/loving one another as spiritual family, we can take precautions while not going overboard.

“You’re forgiven, [name of accused].”

It’s not our place to say this. Literally, this is like saying, “Man, your sins are forgiven you” (Luke 5:20). When even the Pharisees have better theology—that God alone can forgive Person A’s sins against Person B (Luke 5:21)—we’re in trouble.

Nor is it our place to flock first to an accused person’s defense to assure him of God’s love and forgiveness (now or in the future). This presumes far too much about the accused person—that he is (1) already saddled with enough guilt as it is, (2) caught up with his real repentance to the victim (or usually, a group of victims), (3) a member of a local church that has begun a biblical process of rebuking and restoring him (1 Cor. 5), (4) is already hearing from some imaginary force of nasty Bad Cop Christians that he’s a terrible, terrible sinner, freeing us up to be the Good Cops, (5) an actual member of Christ’s body and therefore included in the warnings and promises of those who share our faith—a fact we technically cannot prove or disprove based merely on a long-distance or professional relationship with him.

That’s a lot to presume, especially over the internet. So let’s not presume that.

3. Reconsider whether victims must forgive the accused.

Here I must be very careful, and acknowledge that early feedback to this article included hearty disagreement with this concept. I’ll choose to proceed this way.

When Christian A accuses Christian B of abuse, others often give two responses.

Response One (Vengeance) says, “What an evil person. Never forgive him.” Some Christians may imply that the accused is outside God’s grace, or will go to Hell. (Pagans—or Christians who behave like pagans—do even worse then they gather and say things like, “Let’s ruin his career and send him death threats over Twitter.”)

Response Two (Cheap Grace) says, “You need to forgive him immediately. Then you act like the sin never happened, because ‘love keeps no record of wrongs,’ and also, ‘Jesus said to forgive anyone seventy times seven.’ To do otherwise denies grace.”

I suggest that both these responses show extreme notions of cheap condemnation or cheap grace, and both fail to capture the complexity of the biblical picture.

Further complicating the picture is this: Christians often use the word “forgiveness” as a shorthand to describe several biblical concepts. These include the concepts of (1) fighting the urge to become bitter or resentful, (2) fighting the urge to slander and take revenge on the offender, (3) reflecting that God in his grace has saved us from the chiefmost offense of prideful idolatry against him, (4) overlooking the offense of a brother—meaning someone (perhaps a family member) in otherwise good relationship with us, who has a besetting sin that he’s already fighting, (5) leaving the offense to God (Romans 12:19) and trusting him to avenge the wrong.

Here is a hard yet biblical saying: If victims of sinful abuse don’t want anything to do with these biblical ideas, then they’re in the wrong. They must consider “forgiving” this abuse, and healing to a point of wanting to offer this forgiveness. There is no room for the Christian to harbor resentment and choose the way of vengeance, either against an abusive nonbeliever or a believer who falls into abusiveness.⁶

Therefore, insisting “I’ll never forgive him” is not an option for the Christian. People who have stated this may fall to the Dark Side very quickly. According to Jesus, they imperil their own claim to live in light of God’s forgiveness of them (Matt. 6: 14–15).

Recommended in case you have ever needed to ask or give forgiveness.

However, I do not believe that Christians should use the word “forgiveness” to refer to this biblical choice of rejecting vengeance and only wanting to forgive offenders. I don’t say this only because the word “forgive” has been used so often, along with “… and forget,” to silence victims and make them feel terrible for being wounded. I say this because biblically, the word forgiveness describes, as Chris Brauns says:

a commitment by the offended to pardon graciously the repentant from moral liability and to be reconciled to that person, although not all consequences are necessarily eliminated.⁷

Among Christians, this real forgiveness is always a mutual arrangement between offender and victim. And it will always leads to actual reconciliation, if not in the present day, then in the future after Jesus has returned to make all things new.

Scripture, however, never calls us to “forgive” a person who has not repented.

This does not contradict Christ’s insistence that we forgive our brothers “seventy-seven times,” that is, offering unlimited forgiveness. (Most recall Christ’s words from Matt. 18: 21–22, but see the parallel text in Luke 17: 3–4, in which it’s clear Jesus is talking about situations in which the offending brother is first offering repentance.)

Nor does this contradict the Bible’s assurance—which many Christians believe—that any Christian is eternally secure. God’s word assures us that “no one can snatch” someone out of Christ’s hand (John 10: 28–29). Yes, that’s true, and yet we cannot ignore biblical warnings such as “No one born of God makes a practice of sinning” (1 John 3: 8–9). The Bible also teaches that real faith will inevitably show the fruit of good works (Eph. 2: 8–10), and that people who have “tasted the heavenly gift” can fall away (Hebrews 6: 4–8). Such warnings are part of the way God corrects and preserves his people, and cheap grace would get in the way of that.

In fact, this is affirmed by the very biblical teaching that God himself does not forgive people who do not repent. Hell is not full of forgiven people who simply refused to repent after God forgave them. (The very fact that Jesus said the Father will not forgive people who don’t forgive [Matt. 6: 14–15] shows that God does not forgive everyone—and that no Christian is outside God’s warnings about holiness.)

This is also affirmed by biblical teachings that reflect human frustration with power-abusers who get away with it. See the imprecatory Psalms, or Revelation 6:10:

They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?”⁸

Yes, Scripture calls on us to be willing to forgive and to love our enemies. But loving enemies does not mean we gloss over their pattern of offenses against others, or even ourselves. By God’s standards (and often by the civil-law standards of our own regions, which I haven’t even touched on in this piece) we must confront the behavior. And if the person does not repent, we cannot (yet) properly forgive him.

Every time I contend for this view, someone presumes I’m automatically excusing grudges or bitterness, or justifying the person who abuses this truth to withhold a willingness to forgive an enemy. Not so. I’m simply saying we ought to use words properly, as God does. And God has given us a great phrase to use for what we mean by “letting go of the offense.” Instead of the word forgiveness (which, again, means an exchange between two willing parties), Paul says leave it. But finish the apostle Paul’s sentence: “Leave it to the wrath of God” (Romans 12:19). He does not say this is merely a feeling, or even a personal choice. He says this is based on the entirely practical truth that we trust God as the avenger. If your enemy is a Christian who refused to repent, God will discipline him. If your enemy turns out to have been a fake Christian, God will avenge the wrong and punish this enemy for eternity.

“Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord” (Romans 12:19, KJV).

If I’ve been abused, I ought to want to forgive the abuser as soon as possible. But this is not simply a case of offense between brothers, spouses, or church members. Instead, this is a case of egregious sin, when one professing Christian for years has shown a pattern of acting more like the devil than like a true follower of Jesus.

At the very least, such a person needs to demonstrate true willingness to repent, which will require facing consequences (including potential loss of leadership positions and careers).⁹ The rewards, however, will be great indeed. He will have received real forgiveness (all the better if it’s nearly instant) from the persons he has wronged. That pattern of sin will no longer interfere with his relationship with God and claim to faith.

In any case, victims of abuse, and those who love them, must cling to the gospel, in which Jesus forgives people who repent. Don’t let people imply you must be more spiritual than God. But pray hard and train hard so you can forgive the offender as soon as possible. Meanwhile, try to leave it—the offense—to God, and find healing not through fake “forgiveness” but because you know the chief Avenger.

4. Don’t make judgments about salvation.

Two very difficult facts arise when we’re talking about professing Christians who are reputably accused of patterns of bad behavior like this: (1) that real Christians do terrible things, up to and including acts of fornication and abuse of power, (2) that God is the final judge of a person’s faith and pardoner of his sins.

That’s highly inconvenient for us. It means that we don’t get to decide who is and is not a legitimate Christian (now or future) because it is ultimately God’s place to judge. It means that we live in light of perfect future justice that may not take place until eternity. It might mean that we end up letting the guilty “go free” in this age, or might end up spreading untruths about an accused person. God will sort it all out. He will uncover all nasty truths we’ve hidden and fix all the lovely lies we’ve spread.

Knowing this, we deal with accusations as best we can, in the various settings to which we’re called—which includes local churches and other Christian groups.

On Monday, we’ll explore four more responses to abuse accusations, and how Christians might address ethics and abuse reports in churches versus other organizations, such as Christian writers’ conferences.

Travis P here. We started the discussion of warfare by first looking at basic motivations for war, what essentially causes fighting. Then we followed up with a higher level of causes of war by looking at the types of calculations a nation must make in regard to other nations, especially in relation to balance of power, before deciding to enter a war.

But when a nation goes to war, what exactly does that mean? It’s helpful here to define warfare itself a bit as broadly as possible, while still making it clear that armed conflict happens at different levels and includes different types of fighting.

The most ancient concepts of warfare really involve two different levels of war–strategy and tactics.

Tactics means how to use combat power in the best way on the battlefield in a single fight or single engagement. Tactics is heavily focused on weapons systems and how to employ them most effectively. Of course issues other than weapons feed into tactics–tactical supply is an issue. Troop training will manifest itself in tactical situations. Tactical situations also require troop movement and the ability for units to communicate with one another.

Strategy is the use of combat power at a national level, looking at all the forces a nation can muster. Strategic considerations are thoughts a ruler could have such as, “How can I make my enemy surrender? How will I keep my troops fed all winter? Where will I get new troops next year? How can I leverage my alliances to help me get draw the enemy from a key mountain pass I need to take?” Things like that.

While the strategic level of thought about war is by nature focused less on weapons systems than the tactical level is, weapons systems still matter. Though strategic considerations of what a good weapon system is may be quite different from a tactical level analysis.

For example, during World War II, the German Army’s Tiger tanks were far superior to the US Sherman tank at the tactical level. They had better armor, a better gun, well-trained crews, and an excellent communication system. They were very deadly to Sherman tanks–US tankers dreaded going up against Tigers.

However, at a strategic level, the Tiger was a terrible tank. It took much more time to produce than a Sherman tank; it also required more maintenance, and used more fuel. The US could produce and supply five Shermans for the cost of one Tiger–and while a Tiger tank was better than a Sherman, it wasn’t five times better. The United States Army overwhelmed the Germany Army with sheer numbers as a result (though most armies try to build weapons which are effective both at the tactical and the strategic level).

Modern warfare has defined a third level of warfare, the operational level. Operations develop campaigns–note a campaign is a series of engagements linked together. At the operational level, military planners assign specific units to specific missions that fall in line with the national strategic plan. This is where generals and admirals and other senior military personnel work most of the time in a modern military. (As opposed to the top leaders of government, who in modern democracies are civilians, who are in charge of the strategic level of warfare.)

Note that the strategic, operational, and tactical levels of warfare can be used to talk about nearly everything that happens in a war. Tactical communication is focused on the radio in a soldier’s hand–at the operational level communication concerns how separate units get in touch with one another, whereas a strategic look at communications would look at how the entire military communicates–such as by satellite systems. Tactical supply might be the amount of ammo in the back of a military truck; operational might be supply depots, a system of trucks, and routes and movement, while strategic could be movement of ships from the home country to ports in a distant country, national rail assets, national food production, etc.

You may have heard nuclear weapons called “strategic weapons” and the reason why is that even a single “ordinary” nuclear weapon affects an entire country at the national level. While there have been efforts to develop extra-small “tactical nuclear weapons” (which might be used to destroy, say, a single aircraft carrier), generally speaking, nuclear weapons form a special case in which a type of warfare really only exists at the strategic level. There is one nominal outcome. With nukes, there are no campaigns for operations to be involved with and no specific engagements to win. Not in our current world.

By talking about nuclear warfare, we’ve slipped into talking about warfare types. Though there are many different types of warfare that can’t really be given full consideration until we talk a bit about the psychology of war. But for now, let’s look at some types of war through the lens of the levels of war, as we already did with nuclear weapons.

Worth mentioning first because it helps make the difference between strategic and tactical levels even clearer is aerial bombing. A single aircraft (or a few) dropping bombs to help a ground unit defeat an enemy in an engagement is the use of tactical bombing. The type of bombing that happened in WWII, where hundreds of bombers would go out and destroy entire cities to reduce enemy industry nationwide were examples of strategic bombing.

The operational level of war becomes king during maneuver warfare, which is where armies attempt to take valuable terrain and supplies behind enemy lines (i.e., maneuver to gain an advantage). Maneuver warfare also seeks to destroy an enemy’s willingness to fight by separating them from what they need to win the war. Operational planning is vital to maneuver warfare–oh, of course tactics and strategy also matter, but maneuver war is won and lost with the kinds of plans that top commanders develop and execute. Think Erwin Rommel or George S. Patton.

A war of attrition, in contrast to maneuver war, is where opposing armies seek to destroy their enemy’s ability to fight with greater numbers. This is how zombies fight–or in far too many science fiction movies, aliens. It’s also happened in the real world. In World War I, a great deal of attrition warfare happened, a specific example being when German commanders decided that the way to break the stalemate on the Western Front was to send so many troops at Verdun that the French would be “bled white.” The plan didn’t work, though it did kill about 150,000 soldiers on each side of the fight.

In ancient and Medieval times, the siege of a city qualified as attrition warfare. Sun Tzu recommended against besieging cities, by the way (The Art of War book 3, 3-4)–and in fact, most military commanders would agree with the idea that attrition warfare is best avoided, except as a last resort. Note though if used, a war of attrition will usually be won for strategic reasons, i.e. who can afford to lose the most troops.

A form of warfare that’s quite different from a war of attrition is a guerrilla war. Guerrilla means “little war” in Spanish and the term developed after Napoleon’s France invaded Spain (1807-1814). Spanish guerrillas (and those who fight like them since then), who were more often than not civilians, employed hit-and-run tactics, seeking to keep larger forces off-balance, and won not by eliminating the enemy’s ability to keep fighting, but by making the enemy’s presence so costly that they were unable to stay.

This kind of war is more commonly called “Asymmetric Warfare” in modern military terminology (because the two sides of the conflict don’t have equal or symmetric power) and is closely related to a war of revolution or a counter-insurgency. The still-ongoing war the USA has in Afghanistan is this type of war. In this kind of war, all the fighting happens at the tactical level, since there are no masses of enemy forces to maneuver around operationally and there are no centers of industry to bomb strategically. Yet while all the fighting in a guerrilla or asymmetric war happens at the tactical level, the decision of the more powerful opponent to leave or go is actually a strategic decision.

Note there are many other types of warfare, from cyberwar to chemical war to psychological war and numerous others. Yet by talking about the basics we hope to impart an understanding that war happens at different levels, with different considerations at each level. And that different types of warfare have particular strengths and weaknesses across the different levels of war.

Travis C here to continue the discussion. As Travis P opens this topic, we see three common levels that we describe warfare: strategic, operational, and tactical. We also describe several types, or “flavors”, that you as an author might want to consider, and as a reader you may encounter. To some degree, every story that involves war has these three levels playing in the background. You may not see it, may not need to show it, but the big gear is turning the little gear all the way down.

For this week, I want to analyze the Star Wars story world through the lense of one particular movie, Rogue One. We should be able to show a wide variety of levels and types all in one compact unit, with the advantage of knowing the broader story. For anyone who hasn’t followed Jyn Erso’s story, be forewarned… spoilers follow.

Rogue One tells the story of how the Rebels gained the technical plans for the Death Star, the Empire’s ultimate planet-killing weapon system. Jyn’s father, a weapons developer turned pacifist, has been taken by the Empire and made to complete the Death Star. The Rebels learn that an Imperial defector knows the location of Galen Erso and has a message for his daughter, and so bring Jyn into the plot. With a trusty band of untrustworthy misfits, she goes to the moon Jehda to learn more.

We see Imperial troops conducting patrols through Jedha City, followed by an extremist group of Rebels who conduct insurgent (or guerrilla) attacks against the Empire. Constabulary duty mixed with insurgents? Beautiful.

Tactical action. (Credit: The Wrap–from a scene deleted from the film)

We later see the tactics of a small unit attempting to infiltrate the research facility on Eadu, as well as the technical storage vaults on Scarif. Troop movement, calls for fire, aerial support (what we call close air support), and employment of various tactical weapon systems are all on display.

While we witness several convenings of the Rebel leadership, military and civilian, it’s on Scarif we also see the operational level of war play out. While the Rebel leaders debate what actions to take since learning the Death Star is operational, the Admiral Raddus deploys the fleet to Scarif to aid Jyn’s party and attempt to take down the Empire forever. Movements of this type, especially when supporting major vessel-on-vessel action while maintaining support to ground operations, are good examples of seeing the operational level in play. Multiple missions on-going, largely coordinated (or at least monitored) by a central command station.

Operational action. (Credit: Business Insider)

Lastly, we recognize the strategic element at play. If the Empire has a strategic weapon system like the Death Star, it’s game over for a Rebellion. We see several Rebel leaders effectively bow out of the fight when they learn the weapon system is operational. If the Death Star can be taken down though, if the weakness placed within by Galen Erso can be exploited, then the Empire can be shown to be defeatable. An alliance of like-minded people can bring down the giant.

While chronologically we must wait for Episode IV, A New Hope, to see the plot run to fruition, the foreshadowing of the Death Star’s defeat leaves us on a high note.

The Death Star–a strategic weapon (Credit: Expandedart)

For science fiction authors, you’ll always be in good shape to begin from the three major levels and derive your campaign actions from there. Certainly you will have technologies more advanced than today’s modern standards, but you can probably find a relative place for them at the strategic, operational, or tactical level. A recent example I’m reading is John Ringo and David Weber’s March Upcountry. What happens when every junior Marine has a kiloton-sized explosive projectile at their disposal?

If you are a fantasy author, you may not need to consider the operational level of war at all. When the king or queen marches with the army and commands from the front, there is a natural marriage of strategic and operational concerns and activities. King Theoden is able to make decisions for all of Rohan while in the saddle as well as direct the Rohirrim on the front. You may need to consider what role, if any, magic has on warfare. Is it the equivalent of a strategic nuclear weapon, or is it so commonplace that it blends into tactics like any other weapon? One of my personal favorites is Glen Cook’s The Black Company series, where the company has wizards embedded with them who are capable of doing pretty powerful things, but are often overshadowed by greater thaumaturgy at the strategic level.

Next week we’ll pick this topic up again as we introduce a spectrum of conflict and a progression, or escalation, of war. We’ll have the opportunity to demonstrate the shades of gray that lie between the simple levels and types described here.

When I was in high school, I was cast as Jonathan Harker in the play, Dracula. I told my friends I was playing Lead Victim.

By the time of our final performance, I came to love the way a vampire story works. An indestructible and deceptive demon threatens to destroy all of mankind, and it would take an army to stop him. But since no one will believe them, a small handful of dedicated vigilantes rely on themselves alone to stop the threat. And because of that, they become desperate. Normally kind and law-abiding citizens suddenly have no qualms about breaking and entering, stealing necessary items, threatening violence, and even committing the most unthinkable acts—like driving a stake through someone’s heart.

This week we feature Randall Allen Dunn and his novel The Red Rider in Lorehaven Book Clubs. Stop by the flagship book club on Facebook to learn more about these stories.

Heroes who fight monsters will stop at nothing.

That’s why I love them.

When I began to write The Red Rider, about a 16-year old Red Riding Hood fighting evil werewolves, I was surprised at how easily the story flowed. It was the sort of story I had always hoped to write. A girl in peril, who rises to become a skilled Robin Hood-type superhero, striking fear into the hearts of those who once bullied her.

It also had monsters.

I have no interest in most horror movies (they creep me out), but I have come to deeply appreciate horror literature. Great stories have great conflicts, and horror is the purest form of that struggle. It is through horror that heroes are made. Through the deadliest and most mind-bending challenges, everyday people rise to face monstrous enemies and beat them back, by whatever means possible.

Because they have to. To survive. To protect their loved ones. Or even to find peace for themselves.

“The Red Rider bears teeth, but horror fans will find it gives an exciting chase.” — Lorehaven Magazine

We all face monsters in life. Some people call them challenges. Some call them inner demons. And some of them actually are demons.

In the fairy tales we’ve grown up on, fictional monsters are not there to give us nightmares, but to give us hope. Hope that dragons and witches and evil sorcerers can be defeated by good people.

By those who choose to become heroes.

It’s even more encouraging to recognize that these heroes don’t start out as heroes, but as everyday people like you and me. They become heroes when they choose to do what’s right and necessary, even if no one else will.

In Jaws, Chief Brody doesn’t start out as a hero. Just a man trying to hold down a job as the sheriff of a quiet town. But the monster shark teaches him to face problems instead of pretending they don’t exist, like the rest of the town. He learns to face his fears and risk his life in order to solve a problem instead of hoping someone else will clean it up for him.

In Jurassic Park, Dr. Alan Grant doesn’t plan to be a hero. He simply wants to critique a theme park for a large sum of money and avoid children at all costs. But the monster dinosaurs running rampant force him to choose between serving himself and saving two helpless children. Once he rescues them, he discovers a heroic fatherly nature that he never knew he had. He determines to protect the children and lead them safely through the park, as if they were his own kids.

Many people shy away from scary stories because they can’t stomach the ideas and images of those horror movies I mentioned, which emphasize the monster itself. I prefer to read stories which show monsters in all their ugliness and evil …

… and the heroes who defeat them.

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“The Red Rider bears teeth, but horror fans will find it gives an exciting chase.”
— Lorehaven Magazine

Read our full review exclusively from the summer 2018 issue of Lorehaven Magazine!

I think one of the things that disturbs me most in the various speculative forums I visit, is the fact that so few talk about the fiction they have read or are reading.

In one such spot, someone asked for recommendations for a certain genre written for a certain age, and you’d think they’d asked if the members wanted to go to the dentist. I envision a lot of head-scratching before a few answers trickled out, most naming some classic, written by an icon.

I couldn’t help wondering, are there no good contemporary books, or are speculative fans not reading?

I happen to know there are good books because I’ve read some. But are self-professed “geeks” reading them? Back in June I wrote a couple posts about reading speculative fiction: “Where Do You Find Your Speculative Fiction,” and “Christian Speculative Fiction: What’s Wrong With This Picture?”

I realize that one of the conclusions I came to from the poll that ran and the comments that followed is this: we don’t read lesser known books because they are lesser known. We stick with the popular and the much-talked-about, not because they are better or the best (though they might be) but because out of all the thousands of books now available to us, we don’t know which are the best.

Contests can help, no doubt. When a book wins an award at Realm Makers or at ACFW Carol in the Speculative category, or a Christy or from one of the conferences such as Blue Ridge or Oregon, we should take note. We should put those books on our To Be Read pile and make note of those authors to see what they write next.

Personally, I find recommendations from people I know to be even stronger. I also find reviews on Amazon or at Goodreads to be helpful. I don’t need to read a book only if it is in the top ten or top one hundred, because I understand how hard it is to get the word out about a good book. But somebody needs to tell me about a book if I’m going to look at it more closely, if I’m going to consider buying it, and if I’m actually going to read it.

Let’s face it. We’re all busy. And books are not simply competing against other books for our time. They’re also competing against TV and movies and games.

I maybe am repeating myself ad infinitum here, but I’m going to do it anyway. We have to pass along our recommendations to others. We have to write reviews, we have to talk books up on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram or wherever you hang out in cyberspace. The fact is, we each have more opportunity to influence people all over the world than we’ve ever had before. Used to be you had to work for a news outlet of some kind to have an influence beyond your immediate circle of friends. But no more. We can have a much broader reach. We can touch people with our recommendations like we never have before.

So here’s what I’m asking. Have you read any speculative fiction in 2018? If so, what book or books? How would you rate them? If they are titles you could recommend, pass them along to us. And then put that same recommendation somewhere else on the internet. Maybe write a review for Amazon or B&N, mention it in a group on FB, put up a review on your blog. You know, anywhere that other readers might see what you think about this good book.

Here’s another option. Why not make a list. You know, you see them all the time. Why not make your own. What are your top five speculative books written in this century? Or this year? Or make it top ten or top three. Maybe make your own award with you as the judge. What book would win?

The point is, spread the word. The only way some books will get noticed is if YOU do the talking.

“I didn’t go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that. If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortably, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.”

—C. S. Lewis

My first and favorite fandom growing up was Warhammer 40,000. Judging by how much trouble I get in with my wife by leaving miniatures scattered throughout the house, it’s probably safe to say I’m still a pretty big fan.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the setting of 40k, I will do my best to summarize it in one sentence: It is the year 40,000, the God-Emperor of Mankind is a rotten husk in a vegetative state who is kept alive only through the daily sacrifice of a thousand souls, and everything is pretty much horrible.

To put things into further perspective, the tagline for their products—“In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war”—is where the genre grimdark got its name.

This week we feature Aidan Russell and his novel Road of the Lost in Lorehaven Book Clubs. Stop by the flagship book club on Facebook to learn more about these stories.

In 40k, Mankind is overwhelmingly united by one thing: unwavering faith in the Emperor and strict, non-negotiable adherence to the cult that worships him. It is an over-the-top caricature of medieval Christianity. Witches and heretics are heaped upon the pyres with no tears shed. In fact, if one were to shed a tear for their lost loved one, they would soon find themselves next to them in the flames. Entire worlds are eradicated and populations snuffed out at the first sign of mutation or treachery. It is, “If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out,” but the body is a galaxy-spanning empire and the eye is a world full of a billion lives. It is a universe that no sane human, let alone a Christian, would want to live in.

There’s just one problem in the 40k universe: the cruel enforcement of the Emperor’s edicts and adherence to his faith are the only things holding back a galaxy of bloodthirsty aliens who seek to conquer or slaughter mankind. The righteous fervor is the thin, precarious phalanx that holds back an alternate dimension full of demons and laughing gods¹

If you’ve read Myke Cole’s recent novel (warning! spoiler) The Armored Saint, you probably rooted against the Order in the beginning. Then you found out something horrible: they were right, and all the cruelty and bloodshed seemed a small price to pay to keep the demons at bay.

“Aidan Russell creates action-driven fantasy of all the good old things.”
— Lorehaven Magazine

Now, what does all this have to do with the above C. S. Lewis quote?

In 40k, regular humans are given meager weapons, meager armor, and ordered to near-certain death against armies of towering horrors. When they march against alien hordes and legions of demons, their most potent weapon is the indomitable will to fulfill their duty to a God-Emperor they’ve never seen and have never known. That is certainly no easy task.

When you and I wake up every day, our duty to God is to be the light in a world of shadows.

We don’t have to face off against demons and monsters. No, we wouldn’t be so lucky. Instead, we must fight a war with our souls and our hearts. The only weapons we have to hold back the darkness of this world are our charity and kindness, and in our every failing, the shadows encroach on us more and more.

There is no front line to which we can go and fight against sin. That battle follows us every minute of every day. It seems even most prevalent when we are running late and overworked. When our own lives seem to be spiraling is when it seems God always sends us a stranger that needs a helping hand or a relative who needs our time. And we must fight these tiny battles, for what other choice is there? To give in to our apathy and selfishness is to invite into ourselves the wages of sin: death itself.

But there is one weapon we as Christians have that Mankind’s soldiers in the 41st millennium do not: Christ himself. When our lines break before the devil’s assault, he will strengthen us and rally us to his cause. When we fall, wounded by the wickedness that surrounds us, he will heal us and send us back into the fray.

I live in Las Vegas. We don’t have a seedy underbelly of sin. It’s part of our namesake. The part of our city that no one talks about, that receives little recognition, are those that go our every day to feed to hungry, shelter the homeless, and ease the pains of the suffering. Yet every day they go out do God’s work, armed only with the faith in their hearts. They keep back the shadows, battle against demons, and prepare for the day our Lord returns. For what other choice do they have?

“No army is big enough to conquer the galaxy, but faith alone can overturn the universe.”

—A quote I saw once in a Warhammer 40k rulebook

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“Aidan Russell creates action-driven fantasy of all the good old things.”
— Lorehaven Magazine

Explore Aidan Russell’s novel Road of the Lost in the Lorehaven Library.

Read our full review exclusively from the summer 2018 issue of Lorehaven Magazine!

Readers, the Guide to War continues! With Balance of Power this time–though the title doesn’t quite mean what it seems to mean.

Note that I will be leading off these topics with commentary that fellow author Travis Chapman (who, by the way, is an instructor of Nuclear Engineering and Thermodynamics at the US Naval Academy) is going to review and tweak, to which he will add specific “case studies” or illustrations that I will review and tweak, my words at the beginning of a post that will transition into his words at the end.

To get back to “balance of power,” please remember that the first post I wrote on this topic I now wish I’d called “part 1, Basic Drives” (or maybe “Basic Impulses”) because I tried to identify the root urges that cause people to organize themselves to fight. That is, what it is they are trying to achieve or obtain.

With the title “Balance of Power” I’m picking out the key element of what I may call in the book “Reasons for War” (or maybe “Reasoning Leading to War”)–but which I won’t do now because I used “Reasons” in the last post. The particular phrase “balance of power” is getting special attention because something happens to groups of human beings, whether tribes, kingdoms, or large modern nations, when there are a number of them in contact with one another and war is a possibility.

Nations (or tribes, etc.) in such cases have to pay careful attention to not just to what they want, what drives them in the direction of seeking war–they have to pay careful attention to their own relative power verses their enemy or enemies. That means they need to be able to evaluate the nation they plan to go to war with in terms of its ability to fight–but they have to keep in mind what other nations around them are doing, in case any of them might intervene, lest their declaration of war end in disaster.

This kind of reasoning is briefly alluded to in the New Testament (Luke 14:31-33), in which Jesus mentions how a king calculates if he can beat an army of 20,000 with 10,000 soldiers and sends off a delegation of peace if he can’t (Jesus used this kind of calculation to illustrate a point about being a Christian disciple). This case is representative of the simplest possible kind of war–one nation against one nation.

Credit: Hendrik Willem Van Loon

Note though that it was absolutely normal 2,000 years ago (and even long before that) for nations to engage in calculations of war regarding a wide variety of things, including in particular the balance of power. A great deal of military strategy involves (and has historically involved) considerations of how one particular nation sizes itself up against others–the minimum calculation stemming from one nation verses one other, but which in most cases extends to include other nations (tribes, etc.) in the area. Because with very few exceptions, humans fear all their neighbors uniting against them.

This leads to a number of observations, the first of which was alluded to by in Luke 14:

1. A nation will generally negotiate with an aggressor nation because of fears of losing a war. Or if they feel they could win the war, but the cost of winning is too high.

So while some people claim human beings naturally negotiate and then go to war when the negotiations are unsuccessful, the actual situation is more complex. Just going to war without any negotiation seems to be the first impulse of warlike nations–but a rational analysis that they could lose the war (which provokes healthy fear), brings them to the negotiation table. And only then, after negotiations are developed as an instrument to avoid the bad consequences of war (but not to avoid conflict itself) does a breakdown in negotiations start a war.

2. At the risk of sounding obvious (but for a purpose), nations generally choose to engage in war when they believe they can win, when the balance of power is in their favor. No human group goes to war simply because they have a military that’s superior (or perceived superior) to a potential enemy. But once the basic impulses (or reasons) for war as explained in the last post come into play, nations with superior military forces are much more likely to engage in war than weaker nations. This idea brings a couple of interesting corollaries:

a. Totally pacifistic groups that survive as such generally have little impact on the balance of power among surrounding nations–that is, often enough, being weak reinforces being meek.

b. Nations are more successful with negotiations when they don’t need them (because they are strong enough to win anyway).

c. Assessing the power of one’s own nation versus that of other nations is a major activity for military planners, because it’s vital to know if ten thousand really can beat twenty thousand.

3. Nations sometimes decide to go to war because they miscalculate the balance of power, especially in overestimating themselves against their enemy(ies). This is why Sun Tzu in the classic Chinese work on warfare, The Art of War, lists spies as the most important part of any Army (The Art of War, chapter 13)–because a good spy network can determine if circumstances justify warfare (or if they don’t).

The WWI Balance of Power Chain Reaction–from a public domain cartoon of the period.

4. Nations often seek alliances with other nations if they perceive themselves to be too weak to maintain a balance of power on their own. Once a balance of power is established among groups of nations through alliances so that both sides or all sides see themselves are roughly equal to one another, they are less likely to go to war. Yet, as in World War I, this creates a situation in which a single relatively small incident can cause an entire alliance to go to war over any particular friction between any of the various parts of the coalitions involved. (As the number of relationships grows, the chance of a spark does not grow proportionally, it’s more like exponential growth.)

So a great deal of activity among nations, both in the real world and in fiction, seeks to establish or maintain a balance of power–and when they fail to do so–or even if they succeed, the problems stemming from balance of power considerations often lead to warfare.  

Note when we’re talking about balance of power at the national level, there are three basic ways a nation can evaluate itself: 1) Below average to some degree, 2) at parity with surrounding nations, and 3) being in a state of greater power. “Power” might not be limited to ability to conduct warfare–it can also mean economic power, perceived cultural or ethical power or position, numerical power (greater population or controlled territory), or geographic power (i.e.,holding territory that has the most value, like key mountain passes or navigable waters). Obviously a nation (or any group of nations) might possess a bit of any of these, or all of them.

So with the three basic tiers mentioned above, we see the following inherent conflicts:

• Lower nations trying to bring down those in higher positions
• Lower trying to achieve parity with others
• Lower fighting for the scraps between each other–or adopting a pacifistic attitude
• Higher stations trying to hold their positions against internal disruption
• Higher stations trying to eliminate potential competition from below
• Parity nations try to climb one rung higher than a peer
• Parity nation trying to pull up a lower nation to their level (often via an alliance or coalition)

This complex set of relationships above is in fact based on one nation against another at any given moment and doesn’t list every possible situation: the dynamics of alliances and coalitions are generally even more complicated, but have many of the same elements. Both sides of a potential conflict have a story to tell about why they chose to go to war and their own perception of how things reached the point of conflict–which provides plenty of story material for any author.

Travis C here. Any nation (and we’ll assume a nation here, but it could be any organization of entities) will have a certain calculus going on as they consider their position on the hierarchy of power. You should realize it’s calculus too, not just basic algebra, and a good deal of statistics. In the modern world, it is often literally math, with military planners doing calculations of force, weapon effects, measuring changing conditions, and mapping varied courses of action and their likelihood of success or failure. For fantasy literature the calculus will likely happen at the planning table and in the minds of key stakeholders weighing the odds (think of King Theoden stating Rohan will not risk open war). I propose that in most science fiction settings you might add an element of AI support to our modern practices (cue C3PO calculating the odds). Only you will know to what degree you’ll need to analyze all sides of the conflict to determine the impact it has on your story.

The desert between Calormen and Archenland.

One of my favorite examples of this calculus is found in C.S Lewis’ A Horse and His Boy. We witness a peek behind the curtain as Lewis truly shows, not tells, the analysis of nations when we meet Shasta in the company of the Narnians while in the nation Calormen’s capital, Tashbaan. The Narnians suspect Prince Rabadash of ill dealings and speculate what might occur should they escape Tashbaan. Narnia is no match for Calormen sword for sword (differing relative positions of martial power). However, Narnia and ally Archenland are protected from the brunt of Calormen’s army by geography. To launch a major campaign against Narnia, Calormen must either cross a vast desert (logistically challenging) or embark by sea for an invasion (likely to be met with resistance ashore and hard to pull off at such a distance). The Narnians conclude the risks associated with escape are worth it; they doubt Calormen will retaliate in any meaningful way.

Now we jump ahead and learn the Tisroc, supreme ruler of Calormen, will back a minor expedition by Prince Rabadash to take the small kingdom of Archenland by way of the same desert. A small force may successfully cross the desert and maintain sufficient strength to overthrow an unexpecting Archenland. The Tisroc, without Prince Rabadash’s knowledge, accedes the venture may not carry, but if it does and Rabadash conquers Archenland, then Calormen can slowly build up a military force on Narnia’s doorstep, making way for a future campaign. He also weighs his relative political strength in Tashbaan when he admits that should Rabadash fail, he’ll write the whole thing off as a boy’s rash temper. Surely he knows the Calormen news cycle to assure himself of an evening headline “Wild Prince Rabadash Goes Off The Handle; Archenland Protests Military Exercise In Desert” is one he can recover from.

The Tisroc…

Lewis uses the varied geography between Tashbaan and Castle Anvard to drive the major characters until we reach a satisfying conclusion. We see the roles of individuals, small units, and ultimately three major nations, two in alliance, all collide in a beautiful story that displays evidence of a well founded conflict between nations.

It’s also worth noting that Lewis plants a seed here. The argument of the Tisroc, that Narnia can be taken by seemingly unnoticed infiltration, comes to pass in The Last Battle. Small gatherings of Calormen, under the guise of merchants, slowly gain a foothold in Narnia and ultimately allow the receipt of Calormen’s army by sea in the taking of Cair Paravel. A strong analog to the way that seemingly minor, yet persistent, sin can gain a foothold in our lives.

Since Travis P opened us, I’ll close this one out. We’ve combined efforts and hope to bring you an outstanding series on the nature, conduct, and consequences of the spectrum of conflict we call war. We have an outline of topics to cover in a shared voice. We hope to do this through two contexts: first, as writers of speculative fiction, and second, as authors of fantasy and science fiction in particular.

Hopefully you can keep your Travises straight. It’s going to be a great journey together!

Last week I discovered that my Amazon Prime subscription includes several seasons of the original Twilight Zone. So I came to watch “Judgement Night,” an episode that opens on a civilian ship creeping across the Atlantic Ocean in the unhappy year 1942. I would be reluctant to recommend this dark little tale to many people; I would be afraid they would find it merely unpleasant. Yet it left me thinking. It is a story that demonstrates – all the more powerfully for its lack of greatness – the power of stories.

First, the story itself (and if anyone needs a spoiler alert for a sixty-year-old story – well, consider yourself alerted). We begin with a man standing at the railing, looking out at the foggy sea; he is persuaded to enter the dining cabin, where people carry on civil conversation despite the silent, hanging dread of being stalked by German U-boats. Our protagonist is the most afraid of all, and with reason: he cannot remember getting on the ship, knows nothing but his name and birthplace and an awful sense of familiarity coupled with a crippling dread. “Judgement Night” follows the Twilight Zone pattern – tiresome elsewhere, but not here – of a bewildered person growing more and more distraught until he finally understands the trap snapping over him.

One of the awful things about this story is that the protagonist spends it just on the wrong side of understanding, where uncertain fear and sure misery converge. He’s not at all surprised when the U-boat attacks; he’s not even very surprised to see himself on the U-boat’s deck, directing the torpedoes that spill him into the ocean to drown. Neither is the audience very surprised, but the show holds its final punch until the end. We see our protagonist as the Nazi captain he always was, deriding a younger officer’s discomfort at the slaughter of men and women, but then slowly subsiding into unease as the man worries that God will damn them to a special hell – a hell where they are forced to share the fate of their victims, except that the people they killed only died once and they will have to die a hundred million times …

And we see again a man staring at the foggy sea, quiet in his confusion, and for him it is always 1942.

Probably the full strength of the story eludes us; we can’t receive it, today, as they received it then, when World War II was a living memory for most adults. “Judgement Night” aired in 1959, only seventeen years after 1942 – the same length of time between us and 9/11. To its first audience, it wasn’t just history. But if it can never be as immediate or visceral as it once was, the story still weaves its spell – the quiet, dreary atmosphere of the ship, the thick tension of fear, the frantic, useless resistance to the end. It’s chilling to see the Nazi captain again at the railing, knowing it will be exactly as it was, but there is also a grim sense of justice. God sent him to hell, but he made it.

The old-time preachers tried to evoke the horror of hell, and the rational apologists tried to justify it, and this brief story makes you feel both the horror and the justice. It’s not a great story, obvious in some ways and oppressive in others. But it possesses the power, innate to stories, to slip by arguments and intellectual proofs to make you feel truths you might not even believe. And what you feel is easy to think, for that is the power of the heart over the intellect, and of the story over the mind.

So for those of us who just enjoy reading great stories (even better if they’re fantastical), and don’t keep up with all the bookmaking politics, here’s the scoop.¹

Apparently the Christian Booksellers Association, or CBA, is getting a shakeup.

The case

Agent Steve Laube, a friend of SpecFaith (and Christian fantasy fans anywhere),² first noted this yesterday:

Key staff people in CBA (aka Christian Booksellers Association) are no longer working for the association. In what appears to be a purge, Curtis Riskey, president for 11 years, is no longer working there.

Laube noted that CBA had not announced any transition or put out a press release.

Then Publishers Weekly did some checking and discovered this:

[Dallas-based entrepreneur Edward] Roush is drastically reorganizing the CBA’s staff and services in order to “build a trade association that is strong enough to meaningfully help the industry,” according to Deborah Mash, president of CBA Media, a subsidiary of CBA Service Corporation.

“CBA has been a poorly managed debt machine for many years, so Mr. Roush’s efforts to restructure the organization were imperative and unfortunately indicative of many of the problems in the industry as a whole,” Mash said in an email to PW.

Important comical fact: the outgoing president of the CBA’s last name is “Riskey.”

More important fact: the Christian Booksellers Association is long-running professional group that helps member Christian bookstores trade goods, including movies and books.” The CBA was formed in 1950.³ And lately it’s been struggling, like any business based on physical stores and traditional publishing in the 2010s.

Many news stories and blogs about failing regular bookstores, however, seem to lament the Passing of an Era. They’ll take shots at Amazon.com, or write clickbait-type articles with titles like “Millennials Are Ruining Mayonnaise and the Library.”

Yet with the Christian book industry, I wonder if some Christians could care less.

The charge

Here’s what I mean. When I see news about the CBA struggling or about a bookstore chain closing, or one agent’s 2017 predictions of market shrinking, the loudest reaction isn’t much like regret. If anything, a lot of people seem to gloat.

Narrowing this to books and then again to fiction books: If the news (rightly or wrongly) comes out—“Christian fiction is dying”—and people say, basically “Good riddance,” this arouses my suspicion. I want to know if they had any involvement with this potential crime. I want to put on my best outrageous Hercule Poirot mustache, adopt some hybrid Euro-accent, and drag in folks for questioning.

The suspects

So. Christian fiction appears to be dying. Where were you on the night of X?

“I was watching the latest prestige streaming drama on Netflix,” says the youthful Christian collegian and/or sort-of-hipster academic type. “Critics were really raving about this one. But I don’t read Christian fiction. Didn’t know it well—other than the fact that it is corny, sentimental, and bound by silly conservative rules.”

Really. Were you aware that (1) a service like Netflix started out offering abysmal streaming fare, which is an inevitable stage of a new media source’s early growth? (2) plenty of Christian fiction, with labels, content restrictions, and all, is actually awesome?

“Well, I just don’t prefer that mass-market Christian stuff no one’s ever heard of. I’d rather see TV shows that are esoteric and indie, which everyone’s talking about.”

So. Christian fiction appears to be dying. Where were you on the night of X?

“‘Christian fiction’?” guffaws a Millennial. “That still a thing? I read some when I was a kid. But it has all those rules. People in those books can’t even cuss! Let ‘em die.”

Stop to consider, my friend, that every medium has its own content restrictions, either as a matter of good taste or service to most of its diverse audience. Sure, on YouTube you can say the F-bomb all you like. But try dropping the N-bomb; it’ll blow up in your face.

“[Bomb] that. Reality isn’t real unless people are cussing. I’m all about really real reality with real things. Which means in the real world, everyone cusses all the time.”

So. Christian fiction appears to be dying. Where were you on the night of X?

“I left that behind—get it?—along with the conservative nonsense that ignores the Bible’s call to justice,” says the sober young activist Christian ministry leader. “Christian fiction does not actually help us connect with our neighbors. I prefer to engage secular fiction that helps me connect with them.”

So, the purpose of fiction is solely to help us evangelize people? Some Christian fiction also assumes that. You agree? You just think it doesn’t evangelize effectively?

“Keep talking. I’d like to write a blog about how Christian culture is just the worst.”

So. Christian fiction appears to be dying. Where were you on the night of X?

“‘Christian … fiction?’” says the middle-aged mother. “Oh. I only read Christian nonfiction about important things. Like about how there’s actually a secret code about the United States hidden in the book of Isaiah. Or about how small children actually take routine trips to paradise, and unlike the apostle Paul, are permitted to tell what they saw. Or about how I’m the hero of my own story, girl.”

Would you like to answer further questions with your attorney so you can avoid a possible future charge of perjury? You clearly stated you do not read “Christian fiction,” then proceeded to give several of your favorite examples of the same.

“Am I being detained? If not, then I must go. I’m late for my fellowship group about the new nonfiction book, Jesus Calling to Heaven is for Real So Wash Your Face.”

So. Christian fiction appears to be dying. Where were you on the night of X?

“Christian fiction,” sniffs the young conservative whippersnapper sort-of Calvinist preacher. “So we’re talking about that now? I haven’t been to a Christian bookstore in years. It’s full of not only terrible heresy but ridiculous kitsch. The music is carnal. The books are worse. They keep all the important, thick, historic theology books on the back shelf! In the very front they put out only the ridiculous stories for women and children. It’s all just fiction. All make-believe entertainment. Sure, that’s fine and maybe there’s nothing wrong with it—maybe—but in a world where the so-called churches are constantly compromising with the truth, we don’t need fantasy. We don’t need stories. We need God’s word. And by ‘God’s word,’ I mean preaching. Only preaching! Like the kind that I do. And like some of my friends do. Meanwhile, all these shallow people who claim to follow the gospel but instead get all distracted by this popular-culture nonsense and think that they can ‘exegete’ the world instead of expositing the—”

Sir. I doused you with truth serum when you weren’t looking. Who is your audience?

“My … audience?”

Yes. In your own imaginary world: who listens to you? Real people? Real people who like fiction? People could really benefit in their heads and their hearts from active, creative,  thoughtful, excellent Christian fiction—the kind you refuse to support even in theory?

“N … no.”

No what?

“No, that’s not my audience.”

Who’s your imaginary audience, then?

“Other young pastors. Only other young pastors.”

Yep, we really need to scoff at that escapist, non-real-world fiction stuff.

“And only people who have the same personality as me, who only prefer nonfiction and doctrine and podcasts about preaching. Say, do you have any more of this truth serum? It’s quite relaxing. Being a young conservative whippersnapper sort-of Calvinist preacher is hard.”

I can imagine it is. (muttering to self) But it may go easier if you didn’t spend all your free time blogging against heresies.

“Hm? What’s that?”

Nothing.

“How could I … relax? Take a Sabbath rest … that would be really nice …”

As if God didn’t make humans to work seven days a week? To spend all our time teaching and evangelizing and whacking heretics? As if we actually do all those important things in anticipation of a day when we rest and enjoy adventures on New Earth under Jesus, our creator and King of all good imagination? Then here. Try this Christian novel.