I’ve done a series of posts on Speculative Faith that concluded by looking at Satanic influence in entertainment (I’m linking the last post in that series here). Of course there’s an inherent problem in even suggesting that it’s extremely common for Satan to attempt to influence the content of stories. First, it sounds like I’m minimizing human responsibility for sin, which I don’t mean to do (just because the serpent tempted doesn’t mean Adam and Eve weren’t responsible for doing wrong). Second, by pointing out where what we could call “negative influences” are laced into many stories, it may sound as if I’m rejecting creativity or denying stories can have good purposes–which I don’t mean either, not at all, or I wouldn’t be a writer and publisher. And third, so many people have freaked out about Satan in an over-the-top way that even mentioning the Devil causes some people’s eyes to start rolling around, assuming nothing but a paranoid rant follows (and mentioning Satan causes some other people to freak out and overreact). Neither a rant nor freaking out is what I have in mind.

So perhaps when talking about looking at negative influences in stories, to be better received, it would be more to my advantage to avoid using words like “Satan” or “evil” or even “a potential for evil,” at least for now. Though please do understand that I believe it’s not an accident that so many “negative influences” are in a great many stories. In that light, this post is a case study in looking at negative influences based on two stories, the G-rated tale, Frozen. And the R-rated movie, Grand Torino. Hint: I don’t see the rating as a strong indicator of whether a story is clear of negative influences or not.

Are G-ratings automatically good?

I’ve already telegraphed that my answer to this question is, “No.” But why? Doesn’t a G-rating guarantee a story doesn’t have content that won’t traumatize a child? Doesn’t clean, family-friendly fiction equal good?

I think Bambi was traumatic for lots of kids, by the way. However, Bambi was not a primary example I picked for this post. My point in mentioning it is yes, G-ratings are generally geared towards making sure a child isn’t exposed to trauma, but there have still been traumatic G-ratings. And also–G-rated films at times have had powerful impacts on public opinion, as a linked article about wildlife conservation discusses the effects of G-rated movies on attitudes about animals.

So if Bambi and other G-rated movies can change people’s attitudes about animals (Finding Nemo made the clownfish an extremely popular aquarium tank addition, for example), could it be a G-rated film would have influence towards sin, even if it doesn’t necessarily show sin “on camera”? Just as the death of Bambi’s mother didn’t happen on camera but still was a powerful part of the story?

Yeah, I’m saying G-rated films can have a negative influence.

But don’t you like clean fiction?

Last week’s post included me mentioning I like the Netflix series The Kingdom and that I also find it relatively clean (no nudity, no profanity, even though it it is at times quite graphically violent). The fact I mentioned “clean” as a virtue would seem to indicate I hold clean fiction up as a good thing and graphic fiction as bad.

In fact, it’s an extremely common attitude among Christians to see G-rated “clean” as good and R-rated as bad. Though it’s getting to be a rather old-fashioned attitude now.

More common now, at least in the circles of friends I have, is to think profanity amounts to just words that only have the meaning people assign to them (as opposed to being intrinsically bad), so they mean nothing, so they are just fine in fiction. Acceptance of nudity in film is less common, but some people do accept it de facto by watching, say, Game of Thrones. And some few people accept nudity in media more openly as being only natural or not much of a big deal or “something I don’t like, but it doesn’t affect me much.”

So where am I on the spectrum of G to R? I’d say I’m not really on that spectrum at all, because there are G-rated films I don’t care for and R-rated media I think are generally good. Though I do think R-ratings are in general more prone to showing content a Christian should reasonably object to. Here’s why I say so:

On “normalizing”

In general, if you expose someone to something in a story enough times, a person comes to see what they observe in a tale as normal. Whereas a story may attempt to portray something as abnormal or show something bad with the intent of showing it being bad, in general, people identify with the protagonists of a story. If the protagonist does something, people think what the protagonist does is good and normal. Generally.

This is one of the primary ways that stories influence people. Sure, it isn’t the only way, but in general, if a story shows the central figure of a story doing something, it’s promoting the audience doing and thinking the same thing. Again, of course it is possible for a viewer to see the protagonist as aberrant and not identify with him or her. But generally a reader or viewer will have no interest in a story in which they have nothing in common with the main character. Again, generally.

So what do I think about some of the main behaviors R-rated movies are known for normalizing?

On profanity

Yes, it really is true that words only have the meaning a culture assigns to them. Which means in terms of meaning attached to sounds, “duck” isn’t any dirtier a sound if you start it with the letter “f” than if you start it with a “d.” So what? A word isn’t just a sound, it’s a meaning attached to a sound. And we live in a culture in which mostly comedians but other folks as well systematically used many of the most offensive words they could in order to shock people into laughing. Or reacting.

Now it’s become a cultural habit for many people to routinely use the most shocking terms available to them out of a menu of all possible terms. Yeah, since it’s become cultural, a lot of these terms have lost a lot of their shock value and in effect are becoming less vulgar than they used to be. And due to shifting cultural attitudes, some other terms are more vulgar than they used to be, like racial slurs. (But certain comedians use racial slurs, and in general comedy seems to keep using whatever terms are most shocking, so this is an ongoing issue…)

Still, it’s the very act of seeking the strongest language possible that’s objectionable. Why should Christians be cool with that? Don’t we believe our mouths belong to Christ? So I think in general Christians should be against profanity.

Though we should also recognize not everyone uses “bad language” with the same intent. For some people, it’s just a habit they picked up from others. We don’t have to act offended and holier-than-thou when talking with such people. But we don’t have to imitate them, either!

So in general I prefer media in which the main characters don’t cuss. However, I also like media in which people deal with adult issues like death, suffering, violence, and hardship. And it’s quite challenging to find media that deal with adult issues without using “adult language” (which could be better called “shocking language”). So sometimes I accept profanity in media I consume, even though I don’t want to produce profanity in what I write or publish. Because it’s just not necessary to use the worst words available for emphasis.

By the way, to anyone who would think that cussing is only normal if the situation is tough enough, I’d say yeah, that’s a little true in that people who would not otherwise swear are more likely to do so when things go bad. But I’ve generally avoided using profanity in my life, even when surrounded by it in the military. Though I did use the four letter word referring to excrement when getting rocketed in Iraq. Which I suspect had more impact when I said it because I normally don’t use that word. But anyway…

On nudity and violence

Look, some stories refer to nudity because it’s important to the story. Nazis really did strip down death camp victims before sending them to be gassed in the showers. But most stories don’t need it at all and those that include it don’t need to play up the sexiest aspects. Even if one character is seducing another, it’s not necessary to show everything.

Plus I have a problem in which I can’t look at the body of a healthy nude woman without feeling some desire. I think my problem is a pretty common one, but not many people I know openly mention they have an issue. So in general I’m against the normalization of nudity in visual media.

Violence I am more accepting of–but that’s in part because I find violence repulsive and not attractive. I don’t like gore or bloodshed. Though I can’t say I am not drawn to the shock value of violence at times, moved by the portrayal of violence at times. As in Saving Private Ryan or The Passion of the Christ and many other examples.

Though I think normalizing gore, as in getting people used to seeing it so that they are not shocked by it, is a negative effect. So I would prefer violence to be suggestive rather than realistic in most cases, though there are exceptions.

So aren’t you contradicting yourself? (Or, on bad behavior.)

No, not really. In general, I find stuff that tags a movie or other media with an R-rating is not necessary. But there are exceptions. The thing I’m most concerned about is effects on me. My own potential for bad behavior.

I don’t want to be exposed to so much profanity with the purpose of being shocking or funny (yes, I’m talking about you, Deadpool) that I use it without thinking. Because I don’t want to use the most offensive language possible to me–that’s rude at the very least.

I don’t want to be exposed to nudity that causes me to lust. Nor do I want to see so much nudity that I think nudity is simply normal and I have no sensitivity to it anymore. But I don’t see nudity as absolutely forbidden in stories.

I want to see violence that shocks me and makes me feel the stakes are high, i.e. landing on Omaha Beach in Saving Private Ryan. I don’t want to see so much violence I no longer care about it. Nor do I want to see a celebration of violence as funny or somehow cool.

So let’s get to the comparison: Frozen and Gran Torino.

Gran Torino main cast. Image copyright: Warner Brothers.

Image copyright: Disney

Readers, most of you have probably deduced by now that I’m going to say I think Frozen is a worse movie that Gran Torino. Yep, that’s what I think. (By the way, I’m going to assume you are familiar with these films without explaining them–if you’d like to look them up on Wikipedia to find out more, feel free to do so.)

Gran Torino

Note my general approval of this Clint Eastwood film in spite of me having some real reservations about Gran Torino. Not only does it do a lot of normalizing of profanity, it also includes a lot of racial slurs. A lot. Which I definitely don’t think are good and don’t habitually want to pick up. Though we can fairly say that the movie also goes out of its way to show the protagonist, Walt, is habitually profane and doesn’t necessarily mean it the way other people would.

The movie was also both praised for including real Hmong people as actors and condemned by some for including certain stereotypes, including getting some common characteristics of Hmong culture wrong (most importantly perhaps, that Sue is raped by a gang that would be part of her clan, which would be as much anathema to Hmong culture as to anybody else). So we ought to accept the limitations of what the movie shows about Hmong.

We could also say the movie perpetuates stereotypes of tough guys (“toxic masculinity” someone might say) as heroes. But I would say that the film shows a real downside to Walt’s masculine perspective on the world, including alienation from his family (never being able to connect with his sons). In some ways, he expresses himself more to his neighbor Than than he had done for decades prior. Which we can see as a thawing of typical male “toxicity.” (Note I am not saying I see something inherently wrong with being masculine–I don’t think that way. But there’s a point in going too far, especially in not expressing emotions.)

The film has also been criticized as not being sufficiently subtle or nuanced. Yeah, there are more nuanced films. But lack of nuance makes it easier to use here as an example.

Another complaint about this film is that a white person helps a non-white person. “White savior” is what that’s called. Honestly, this gets my eyes rolling–what, it would be better if he were an apathetic white person? But I can actually concede the point that while Than (Spider) and Sue are very important characters to the film, they are in some ways portrayed as lacking the ability to resolve their own problems or “lacking agency.”

Overall, it can be fairly said this movie has a message pointed at a white audience more than an Asian one. Ok, fine. But what is that message?

The film on the positive end of things includes:

1. Someone who seems more racist than he is (but who really is racist) developing compassion and empathy for people of another race.
2. The protagonist shifts from being hostile to his neighbors to loving his neighbor as himself.
3. The protagonist literally dies to save the life of his neighbor. In fact, when he’s shot dead by the Hmong gang, he even opens his arms wide, his supine corpse forming the shape of a cross.
   

   Walt’s death. Image copyright: Waner Bros.

4. The death of the protagonist buys freedom, i.e. salvation for the secondary character of Than.

In short, the essential theme of Gran Torino is self-sacrificing love. A very Christian view of that kind of love, including a nod at substitutionary atonement. Even though it has other characteristics we should admit to and confront and not celebrate.

So what’s wrong with Frozen?

Just as I conceded bad things about Gran Torino, let’s admit good things about Frozen. The film is clean of course, which means it doesn’t normalize racial slurs or profanity. That’s a good thing.

Also, the movie does a course correction on the general “love at first sight” thing that Disney princess movies have way over-done. (Is “love at first sight” an actual thing? Ask around and you will find out it is–but is it the only way people get married and come to know each other? Not even close!) By casting Hans as a bad guy, we can say Frozen does provides an important on-the-other-hand to older Disney films.

And we can in addition celebrate that the climax of the story features Anna sacrificing herself to save Elsa and everything turning out well as a result. Isn’t Frozen the same as Gran Torino, each a story about self-sacrificing love? Um, no, I wouldn’t say they are the same, even though there is some similarity at that point. Not even in the self-sacrifice part. It isn’t the same because Anna doesn’t actually die, but only appears to. And sacrificing for a close relative is the most common kind of self-sacrifice in the real world–it’s much more powerful (I would say) to self-sacrifice for someone you are not related to.

But more importantly, the hit song that everyone remembers from Frozen is not about self-sacrificing love. Anna’s love for Elsa and vice versa are very important to the story to be sure, but something else, another idea, is more important to the story and more memorable. Let it go.

So Elsa’s parents tell her in essence to control an aspect of herself in order to prevent harm to other people. And even have her cover up with gloves and such. Eventually, Elsa realizes she can’t cover up and can’t be what her parents want: she has to “let it go!”

What’s wrong with letting it go?

The story of course is G-rated, the closest it gets to tying letting “it” go to sexuality is Elsa takes off the extra clothing and gloves her parents say she needed to wear. Though I rather suspect many people will wind up subconsciously linking the “it” of “letting it go” to sexual behavior at some point. Because people think about sex, people. Honest!

Oh, I’m being a dirty-minded prude, am I? That’s what some people are thinking on reading this.

Ok, lemmie admit that the “let it go” thing is very general overall, with only a few hints like clothing that point in the direction of sensuality. It could well be someone could see this film and never, ever pick up on what I’m talking about. Though just because that’s possible, that doesn’t mean most people would never subconsciously pick up a connection–but anyway, it doesn’t really matter. The point doesn’t change much if “let it go” has a general reference.

“Let it go” could be applied to anything. Even good things. Maybe you’ve been suppressing an artistic talent and you need to “let it go.”

But does our society in general have a problem with being too suppressed, too under control? Does our society as an overall whole need to let things go more often? Eh, I’d say, “No.”

Doesn’t fighting against sin in general in a Christian’s life include suppressing things you know you shouldn’t do? Yeah, a Christian should “walk by the Spirit” which includes the Spirit guiding a person to do good things from an inner motivation. But what if at any given moment you don’t want to do good? Is it in general OK to “let it go?”

Um, pretty much, no.

The overall impact of “let it go” might be different if it went to Victorians. Arguably, they were too repressed  and needed to relax at least somewhat (ironically, maybe Walt in Gran Torino could “let it go” a bit). But is that what our culture needs? This reminds me of what C.S. Lewis had his demon offer up as advice in The Screwtape Letters:

“The use of fashions in thought is to distract men from their real dangers. We direct the fashionable outcry of each generation against those vices of which it is in the least danger, and fix its approval on the virtue that is nearest the vice which we are trying to make endemic. The game is to have them all running around with fire extinguishers whenever there’s a flood; and all crowding to that side of the boat which is already nearly gone under.”

Yeah, I don’t think “let it go” is a good message for our culture. Yes, I think it’s subversive overall. Even though it could be applied to good things.

So are you saying we should ban Frozen now?

No. Not at all. First of all, negative messages are very common in stories. Including some G-rated films. Banning them all doesn’t even make sense. If you don’t want to watch a particular show because you think it’s bad, that’s fine. But protesting to Disney or getting angry I think is a waste of time.

As a creator, if I don’t like that kind of story, my most logical option is to attempt to make one I think is better–though there is no guarantee I will be able to do so in terms of quality and production. It fact, beating the appeal of Disney is awfully hard. (That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try!)

Confront the negative, emphasize the positive

What I am saying we should do is admit the troubling aspects of calling out in general to this society to “let it go.” If our kids see Frozen, we should talk about the issue of whether Elsa really did have to let it go. Were her parents wrong to ask her to do that in the first place? Was there perhaps another solution available to them? What if the impulse Elsa was fighting was to steal from people? Or murder people? Would it be OK for her to “let it go” then? When is it and is it not OK to “let it go?”

You can also talk about positive way to see “letting it go”–maybe you could deliberately link it to creativity. Or honesty.

You could alternatively say (especially if talking to other people’s kids, when you don’t have as much freedom) what you really like about the story is Anna’s self-sacrifice for the sake of love, but that the other part of the story you didn’t like as much.

There are in fact lots of ways to react. But I think confronting the negative or potential negative is a part of a healthy reaction. If you aren’t doing that, you aren’t really dealing with the world we actually live in. A world in which, yes, it really is true that an evil spiritual mastermind is trying to influence our culture.

We don’t have to freak out–we don’t have to ban things–we don’t have to over-react. But we should admit real issues, confront them, and also accentuate what is good.

Ask yourself this, did Jesus ever confront wrong attitudes in people–He actually did. Often. Though not by rejecting supposedly bad people outright.

We can do the same.

Be sober, be vigilant

What I’m talking about is all part of walking a spiritual walk. Like good soldiers (2 Timothy 2:3), we endure the difficulties of life, we prepare ourselves by putting on the armor of God (Ephesians 6:10-18), and we remain alert to what the enemy can do (I Peter 5:8), confident in our weapons being able to face anything thrown our way, but alert to something taking us by surprise. Which means we can in fact enjoy things around us, but we have to enjoy with a weapon strapped to our hip, so to speak. Our guard should never go all the way down. Not even for G-rated movies.

Don’t judge a film by its rating as much as what messages it contains–not that ratings don’t ever matter.

So, dear readers, what are your thoughts on this topic? I’m perfectly fine with you disagreeing if you wish. I’d like to hear your point of view!

(By the way, I’ve recorded a version of this post to a podcast–one where I covered the same material in different words:)

https://travissbigidea.podbean.com/e/it-s-not-in-the-rating-looking-at-negative-influences-in-stories-frozen-and-grand-torino/

In the last year we’ve heard these accounts from at least one popular Christian leader, and from a popular comedy duo from an evangelical background. Of course, you likely have many friends or even family members who say they were once Christians, but aren’t any more.

In the new episode of Fantastical Truth, Zackary Russell and I don’t try to refute their points with logic and apologetics. (Others have been doing this well.) Instead we hope to explore why some professing Christians reject their faith, and not others. And we’ll ask a very cautious question: can excellent Christian-made stories help give young believers a stronger faith?¹

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

We don’t mean to offer some Method to keep you strong in the faith, impervious to doubts or competing religions. We don’t say, “Here, read better Christian fiction and you’ll always keep your faith!” But we can look at our own accounts and see common factors.

We can also ask questions like:

• Do people who “deconvert” from Christianity “evangelize” for their view using the language and arguments of only “rational thought”?
• Do “deconstructing” non-believers recognize the significant role of human imagination in their change of mind/heart?
• Also, do they recognize that they are not simply “deconverting” from Christianity but also converting to the default religion of Selfism?
• In the deconverters’ past, what kinds of stories did they grow up with and enjoy for recreation?
• Which images, songs, movies, books, pictures took “shortcuts” to their brains, zooming past all the “rational thoughts”?
• In the deconverters’ present, what kinds of stories have reflected and shaped their dreams, ideas, and deep internal longings?
• What cultural forces have given them these stories, and aren’t these cultural forces also subject to skepticism and “deconstruction”?

How do great stories shape our beliefs?

Great stories shape our deepest desires.

We don’t mean these stories give us desires. Based on our deepest dreams and wants, we will prefer stories that reflect and shape these desires. The stories we love, past and present, reveal what people we truly are.

Great stories shape our view of the world.

For example, some “former Christians” say they met wonderful, moral nonbelievers in the world, who challenged their beliefs just by existing. But if you grew up with excellent Christian-made stories that already included likeable and moral yet non-Christian heroes, then this “groundbreaking” idea shouldn’t have taken you by surprise.

Great stories prepare us for hard truths about God.

Maybe you grew up learning complex apologetics arguments and nonfiction teaching about how/why a good God allows sin and suffering. But you need to experience these things to fully understand them. Scripture itself presents not just abstract teachings, but narratives in which even God’s heroes undergo suffering and other hard realities. Other stories, including stories made by Christians, should be doing the same, so that we are better prepared for this reality.

Subscribe to Lorehaven magazine!

Our new issue released last week, featuring reviews of ten top Christian fantasy novels.

Subscriptions are free at Lorehaven.com, where you can also download all the magazine’s back issues.

Enter to win Tosca Lee’s The Line Between

We’re holding a drawing for two digital copies of Tosca Lee’s pandemic thriller novel The Line Between, courtesy of the author herself

According to our spring 2019 featured review, The Line Between “quests toward truth among apocalyptic madness,” and “truth glimpses give The Line Between surprising heart-warmth amongst the chill, while its road-trip quest drives fast through mad territory and never once feels bogged down in snowbanks.”

To enter the giveaway, you just need to be a current email subscriber for Lorehaven magazine.

We’ll reach out to our two winners next month before we make the announcement.

Next on Fantastical Truth

We’ll be joined by Kathy Tyers, author of many amazing sci-fi and/or space opera novels, including her landmark Firebird series set in a spacefaring world in which the Messiah has not come … yet. Her novel Crystal Witness will re-release from Enclave Publishing this summer. She will join us to explore that story and her whole career crafting spaceships and beyond.

The best stories are memorable—they last, they linger, they provoke thought. I wish we had more memorable stories in today’s media.

In many ways memorable stories have been replaced by the fast action, 3-act stories that Hollywood says sell the best. But good stories, memorable stories don’t necessarily follow the formula. The problem is, so many movies, TV programs, books, don’t explore beyond the bang-bang excitement.

I may have mentioned that I’ve been watching the old Star Trek programs. Not so much the original, but Next Generation and Deep Space Nine and Voyager. Some of the writers of those shows created “preachy” episodes that pushed a liberal agenda. Some explored, in a rather blatant way, some societal questions. I wouldn’t call them necessarily memorable (unless you watch them over and over!)

But last night I saw the end of a part 2 Voyager episode that made me stop and think. As you may or may not know, the show centers on the flagship of the United Federation Planets, Voyager, which was thrust into the delta quadrant of the universe, 70 light years from home in the gamma quadrant.

As it turned out, the captain of the ship, Captain Janeway, made the decision to maintain the ethics and goals of Star Fleet as much as possible, to use the venture into uncharted space to explore as much as possible, and to do all within reason to return to earth.

In the particular episode I’m writing about, Voyager has encountered another Star Fleet vessel, which was also thrust into the delta quadrant and intended to return home. Their ship was not as fast or as well equipped militarily, and yet they had acquired (or perhaps engineered) a device that would thrust them forward light years. All they needed was a kind of fuel they created from the life “blood” of some alien creatures.

Here’s a description of this thread from an article by Andrew Todd:

“Equinox,” a two-parter season finale/premiere that explored a potent what-if scenario. Voyager encounters another Federation vessel that’s been pulled across the galaxy in a similar way, but that’s made enormous progress thanks to unethically harvesting energy from living organisms for fuel (a debate that, curiously, would be brought up again in Discovery). In the Equinox, we see the mirror image of Voyager, if the crew had abandoned its principles entirely. Good stuff.

In turn those alien creatures attacked the vessel. Enter Voyager, not knowing why the other Star Fleet ship was enduring these repeated attacks. As the story unfolds, including the kidnapping of one of the Voyager crew and the removal of the Doctor’s ethical subroutines (he’s a hologram), Janeway at last learns of the ways the other captain has ignored his Star Fleet oaths and abandoned the ethics which govern the organization.

Of course, Janeway wins the struggle, but as the credits appear, the question still lingers—what is a person willing to do to ensure their own personal well-being? Who are we willing to sacrifice in the process? Who will we step on or over? Who will we use and abuse to our own ends?

In this day of hoarding, these are especially relevant questions, I think. Perhaps that’s what makes this particular show so memorable. It has two specific things going for it, I think. One is the relevance to any time in history. The question, What are you willing to do to survive, is not unique to our day, surely.

The second element is that the question is not answered within the show. Yes, Janeway won, but she had to battle not only the other captain and his ship but also her own first officer. He himself admitted that he had thought about mutiny (as the other captain eventually experienced), but Janeway’s first officer concluded that to do so would have crossed the line.

More than once the show alluded to “the line” between right and wrong, between the Star Fleet way and the abandonment of those principles.

As a Christian, I can ask the question: Is it ever right to abandon the principles of my faith—love of neighbor, for instance? Or even love of an enemy.

I think of the early Christians who served others in their community during times of illness, often to their own peril. The results, however, are memorable.

Rodney Stark, author of The Rise of Christianity, argues that some of the marked growth of the church in the early centuries can be attributed to care and compassion Christians showed for the sick. He tracks increased conversion rates during three plagues: the Antonine plague (2nd c.), the Cyprian plague (3rd c.), and the Justinian plague (6th c.). Christians demonstrated their love for God and biblical values, and they offered a very attractive witness. (“The Witness Of Christian Compassion,” Melinda Penner, published at Stand To Reason, accessed 3/30/20)

So I wonder, what is memorable today? What narrative will be most repeated in a year, two years, five? What will go down in history about the reaction of Christians during the Coronavirus-19?

Of course, just like the good, memorable stories, the answer is not one that can be imposed upon anyone. We all have to make the personal choice. The outcome is unknown until we actually act (or, in the case of hoarding, refrain from acting; and refrain all over again next week, and the week after that).

Yes, we are locked into a true to life “story,” but like all good fiction, we are called to examine ourselves, to consider our ways, to think. And that’s a good thing.

South Korean filmmakers have featured zombies on multiple occasions, as the linked page shows. Yet their newest edition of a zombie story on Netflix, The Kingdom, has some aspects you won’t see in a zombie feature produced in the United States. First, it’s got an aspect of political intrigue that leaks over into moral commentary that I’ll talk about in a bit. Second, it’s a period piece, set roughly in the year 1600 in Korea. And third, its take on zombies is different from anything I’ve seen before.

I’ve only seen the first four episodes of the first season as of the moment of writing this post, so I can’t possibly give away how season one ends, nor can I say anything at all about season two, which Netflix recently released. However, if you don’t want to know anything at all about this series before watching it, skip this post, because I will talk about some general aspects and background of the story.

Different Zombies

The origin of the idea of a zombie comes to the world from Haiti, where legend was that supernatural power could reanimate a body and give it generalized invulnerability to harm–other than an attack to its head. Zombies in their first iterations and infamously as featured on The Walking Dead, are slow, lumbering, and stupid beasts, whose main means of killing someone stems from their ability to silently lurk almost anywhere and from the fact that once they start coming after you, they never need to stop to rest, nor do they even seem to need to eat, even though they’re continually biting any human being they can.

A major part of the fear behind this “classic” version of a zombie is the fear of becoming one. I’d say that fear links to the fear of death itself, because just as dead bodies rot in the grave, zombies a-la The Walking Dead rot as they shuffle around, decay as they move forward, having the appearance of people you once knew and loved, but have lost all the inner qualities that once defined them. Which is very much along the lines of how people who do not believe in life after death feel about dead bodies–they are nothing more than rotting meat, reminding us that death is eventually coming for us all.

South Korean zombies tap into a different fear. The fear of being attacked by a viscous predator. South Korean zombies are a lot more dangerous than those of The Walking Dead or other “classic” portrayals of zombies.

Korean films like Train to Busan and the series The Kingdom aren’t entirely unique in this regard. World War Z seems to have answered the question, “How could zombies really take over the world if they’re so slow and stupid?” by making them sprint at incredible speeds and having a single bite from a zombie rapidly convert a regular person into a zombie as well. Zombies even scale walls in WWZ and as a result collectively act with at least rudimentary problem-solving skills.

Zombies in The Kingdom also sprint. Though no faster than a regular person can run, unlike WWZ. And the conversion process changes in the episodes I’ve seen. At first, it required some time, a number of hours, like The Walking Dead. But soon the situation changes and people after a single bite become a zombie within seconds, like World War Z.

As a traditional Korean doctor featured in the story observes, “the sickness has changed.” Which is how becoming a zombie is portrayed in The Kingdom, as an illness, like most modern zombie films show it.

However, the first case of the illness seems to have been caused by an herb Korean physicians in the story believed would raise a person from the dead. It did, but not in the way they intended–which shows an aspect of “science gone wrong” in this story. Though set in Korea circa 1600.

Note that as a sickness, the behavior of zombies makes somewhat more sense than either World War Z or The Walking Dead, while striking a note out of vampire tales. Zombies in The Kingdom only come out at night. As the sun rises, they seek dark places to hide themselves, becoming as comatose as a dead body. Until night comes again.  As if they really are metabolically alive and need to rest–just as they need to eat.

These zombies often eat people alive, even as the person being eaten is rapidly becoming a zombie. The Kingdom shows zombies as ravenously hungry, not just for brains as in Romero’s The Night of the Living Dead or Z Nation, but to eat an entire person whole, yes, like The Walking Dead at times, but eating much more quickly. As if these zombies are like ravenous lions, tigers, or bears (oh my 🙂 ). Instead of decaying human beings.

Set in 1600 Korea

The exact year hasn’t been given in the story, but it occurs only a few years after a Japanese invasion of Korea that was finally repulsed in 1598, which is referenced multiple times. In fact, at first, the story seems to be only a period piece set in Korea circa 1600. The first episode shows traditional doctors performing their ordinary work, Confucian scholars worried about who will run the kingdom in the aftermath of the Japanese invasion, the nobles also reacting to that situation, and the Crown Prince Lee Chang going about the business of being the equivalent of a Vice President, someone who will take over the government but only if the current leader dies. It’s a bit of a slow burn in the first episode, the first zombies not appearing until near the end.

The portrayal of Korea’s past at first seems meticulously correct in all details and the costumes in particular are striking. But then the zombie plague happens, which throws away the strict attention to history that begins The Kingdom.

The setting is cool in that most people in the story don’t have weapons at all, and even those who do are often limited to swords and bows and arrows–though a handful of muskets are in the story as well. Would you want to fight a horde of super-aggressive zombies with nothing better than a sword or a musket? Me, neither.

The peasant veteran of the war with Japan running from the zombie horde. Image copyright: Netflix.

Note though that this tale is not the only Korean zombie apocalypse set in the historic past! The 2018 movie Rampant (which I have not seen) apparently comes from around the same time period.

Political Intrigue

The Crown Prince Lee Chang (played by Ju Ji-hoon) seems to be involved in an ordinary plot to assume his place as king after word of the death of his father leaks out. Because if a new heir is born to the current queen, his life will be worth nothing (because his mother was not a queen). But then the story reveals that the claims to his father still being alive are based on him having become a zombie…

The king may “live” forever!
Image copyright: Netflix.

The struggle between the First Minister Cho Hak-ju (portrayed by Ryu Seung-ryong), who is behind the plot to keep the king “alive,” and the Crown Prince form the basis of the story’s political intrigue. Though in general, the nobles support Cho Hak-ju, while Lee Chang’s supporters are mostly peasants.

Bad Nobles, Good Prince

The upper crust of Korean society are shown as nonchalantly caring only about themselves, condemning ordinary people to death through both inaction and selfish acts. With the exception of Lee Chang, who at first seems rather selfish, but quickly transforms into a self-sacrificing leader, who is doing everything he can to save his people, all his people, from the zombie apocalypse.

This underpins the moral framework of the story. While others long to have power for their own benefit and enjoyment, the Crown Prince becomes a deeply caring and self-sacrificing war leader as the zombies attack. While a group of nobles flee in a half-empty ship, leaving the peasants to their doom, Lee Chang herds them into a walled compound and does everything he can to protect them. Even giving up his personal food rations, so ordinary people could have something to eat.

In fact, food, that the peasants hardly have any while nobles eat at their leisure, while everyone is being chased by ravenous zombies, makes hunger and the menace it poses a much more important part of this story that what you usually see in zombie tales.

Note the prince’s personal bodyguard, a female doctor played by Bae Doo-na (who I know from Cloud Atlas), and an enigmatic peasant who fought against the Japanese round out the group of “good guys” who seek to cure the zombie sickness, keep the people alive, and avoid the troops sent by Cho Hak-ju to kill Lee Chang.

The Prince and the woman doctor are the main figures on this poster. Image copyright: Netflix.

Name Trivia

By the way, the name of this series in Korean is 킹덤, which is approximately pronounced as…”Kingdom”!

So the English word “kingdom” is the basis for the series name, though written in Korean writing (Hangul) in the South Korean version. A bit of trivia I found interesting.

Conclusion

I may have more to say about this story later on, but for now, while it does share with other zombie tales some normalizing gore and can be genuinely frightening at moments, this story so far for the most part qualifies as clean fiction in spite of its MA rating (so far, no nudity and no profanity, though the violence is at times graphic and disturbing). Another potential negative point is it also in general shows people as oddly irreligious, at least so far, even when facing predatory zombies. Which I would say is not a strictly realistic portrayal of human nature–most human beings, including in pre-Christian Korea, have prayed or otherwise sought supernatural help in the real world, especially in times of severe crisis.

But the portrayal of a self-sacrificing and compassionate leader dedicated to the lives of all his people, not just those of his social class, forms a strong moral positive to this tale. That portrayal, along with the sheer fun of zombies so different from what you may be used to and the things people must do to survive, makes this series worth recommending.

How about you, readers–have you seen any South Korean zombie films? In particular, have any of you seen both Rampant and also The Kingdom? I’d be interested in your perspective of what make them different from one another. Or how zombie films are different in Korea in general, including what you do or do not like about them. Other thoughts?

(By the way, if you want to hear the above content in podcast format, I created on for the first time you can find linked here:)
https://travissbigidea.podbean.com/

Two weeks ago, life was normal. Back then you could go to the theater, or set up camp in a Starbucks with a laptop and a latte, or go to the store with breezy confidence of finding toilet paper. The churches were open. Remember that?

Now we are all waiting for a return to normalcy. Even if you’re lucky enough to have both your health and your finances sound, even if your own life has changed only in altered routines and negligible inconveniences – even so, you want that return. There is an uneasy uncertainty in the atmosphere, a question waiting for an answer. We move about life with a wary eye on the news, on the world, watching for the answer to appear. How bad will it be?

These are interesting days. People will write books about them. But it’s the duller days you want to live in, the tranquil epochs between history’s watersheds. What makes good reading, after it’s all done, is not what makes a good life in the moment. The same paradox is at work in our stories. The sort of stories we want to read or watch are not the sort we actually want to live.

There are exceptions, I know. The adventures are thick with danger and privation, but some people really would take them anyway; the romances are fraught with painful drama, but some people really would live them. Still, I am sure that the idea of such things is more appealing than the fact of them. The things that make stories good – danger, difficulties, villains, misfortune, loss – are the things that make life bad. Our lives are a quest for well-being and happiness. Who really wants the apocalypse or the crisis, the danger or the pain?

Some people want to be heroes, a noble impulse. But if heroes are to be admired, the necessity of heroism is to be avoided. Nobody needs to be a hero when things are going well. The first suggestion of anything that would require heroism – whether personal tragedy or public calamity – sets us longing for what we call normal life. We would rather be happy.

In the wake of World War I, and the Spanish influenza, Warren Harding campaigned for president under the slogan ‘Return to Normalcy’. (We’ve had about a century of nitpicking over whether normalcy is, in fact, a word, but Harding indelibly marked American culture and got to be president in the bargain, so the win to him.) Harding declared that America needed healing instead of heroics, restoration instead of revolution, and the dispassionate instead of the dramatic. He won in a landslide. And what, after all, is the purpose of any heroics or revolution except to protect, save, or make better normal life? The purpose of the stories is not, perhaps, much different.

As we wait for the return of normalcy, we are spending more time with our stories than ever. Never before has binge-watching felt like a contribution to society. And you know something? It helps. So may your stories be exciting, and your life tranquil, and may interesting days soon pass.

Thank God, all of that you-know-what couldn’t stop Lorehaven magazine’s new spring 2020 issue from hitting cyber-shelves on time.

Our cover story: “The Best of Christian Fantasy,” in which our well-read review team chooses their favorite Christian-made fiction.

Lorehaven subscribers already have their secret word to access all the new issue online. Not a subscriber yet? It’s free by email. You can read each review and article via the website, or download the free PDF (plus all the magazine’s back issues).

Inside Lorehaven‘s spring 2020 issue:

Masthead

Captain’s Log

E. Stephen Burnett

God may still use “foolish” stories to help our imaginations grow.

The Best of Christian Fantasy

Lorehaven review team

Lorehaven’s review team explores the books they like best.

• A Canticle for Leibowitz, Walter M. Miller Jr.
• Flora & Ulysses, Kate DiCamillo
• The Lord of the Rings, J. R. R. Tolkien
• The Firebird series, Kathy Tyers
• Rescue, F. E. Greene
• Oxygen, John B. Olson and Randall Ingermanson
• The Chronicles of Narnia, C. S. Lewis
• This Present Darkness, Frank E. Peretti
• The Visitation, Frank E. Peretti
• Phantastes, George MacDonald

Sponsored Review

Lorehaven review team

Remnant, Daniel Peyton

In Defense of the Weird

Marian Jacobs

With fantasy’s “strangeness,” we can train to believe in unseen truth.

Fantastical Truth’s new episode

We’ve also released the next episode of Fantastical Truth: “What If the Armies of Hell Tried to Invade Your Hometown?” Lorehaven review chief Austin Gunderson joins us to explore Frank E. Peretti’s classic 1986 spiritual warfare thriller, This Present Darkness.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Austin’s article about Peretti’s prayer-full debut starts like this:

In the early 1980s, “Christian speculative fiction” wasn’t a thing. Sure, Pilgrim’s Progress and Ben-Hur were staples in Christian libraries, and J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis were giants. But fantastical fiction targeted specifically at a Christian audience hadn’t come into its own.

That all changed when struggling former pastor Frank E. Peretti’s This Present Darkness was published in 1986.

Peretti’s supernatural thriller begins in Ashton, a small college town on the northwestern plains. One wouldn’t consider this place as ground zero for a demonic conspiracy to dominate the globe. But the essential conceit of Peretti’s story is that human action affects the spiritual plane, and vice-versa.

Read the complete show notes here.

Of course, you can also listen and subscribe with Apple, Google, or any major podcast streamer—which now includes the Lorehaven channel on YouTube.

Fantastic feedback

How did you like the new issue?

What titles would you add to your list of the best Christian fantasy?

What’s your story with This Present Darkness or other Peretti novels?

Comment below, or send us a direct note using the podcast feedback form.

Next on Fantastical Truth

Unless something big breaks, for episode 10, we’ll put on our hard hats and do a little deconstruction. That is, we’ll bounce off the recent “faith deconstruction” stories among Christians. We will ask, more positively, how excellent Christian-made stories can help us build up our hearts and imaginations–not just our heads!–so that we love Jesus more and can face the challenges of life.

Stay healthy out there, keep praying, and Godspeed!

Stephen

Without trying to be too dramatic, I think it’s accurate to say we are in the midst of a pandemic. Most of the countries in the world are reporting verified cases of The Virus, along with a percentage of deaths. The number is growing exponentially, which is why the US has a “shelter in place” policy and some counties have shut down places like the beach or hiking trails. It’s all with the intention of keeping people from infecting each other.

The natural question is, why? Is God bringing this pestilence upon the world? Is Satan using this virus and the near panic that spurred the hoarding we’ve seen in order to close down churches and prepare the world for the anti-christ? Or is this just a result of the laws of nature and the inevitable mutation of the virus, of humans living in close proximity to disease-carrying animals?

I think the answer is, Yes.

Yes, I believe God works in and through things like earthquakes and wars and pestilence. We see this in Scripture. The first occurrence of God saying that He would do something cataclysmic that would cause devastation is in Exodus when God lays out His plan to free His people from slavery in Egypt: “The Egyptians shall know that I am the LORD, when I stretch out My hand on Egypt and bring out the sons of Israel from their midst.” (Exo. 7:5; emphasis mine) This phrase is repeated throughout the period of the plagues, either to Pharaoh or to Moses or to the people of Israel.

At other times, of course, God told Israel that they were delivered from an enemy so that they would know He is Lord, or that they received needed food or care, and even His choice of them as His people, the apple of His eye.

But when we reach the books of prophecy, God begins to declare His judgment upon His people, and upon other nations, all with the purpose of letting them know Him. Take this passage in Ezekiel:

“Behold, I Myself am going to bring a sword on you, and I will destroy your high places. So your altars will become desolate and your incense altars will be smashed; and I will make your slain fall in front of your idols. I will also lay the dead bodies of the sons of Israel in front of their idols; and I will scatter your bones around your altars. In all your dwellings, cities will become waste and the high places will be desolate, that your altars may become waste and desolate, your idols may be broken and brought to an end, your incense altars may be cut down, and your works may be blotted out. The slain will fall among you, and you will know that I am the LORD.” (Eze. 6:3-7; emphasis mine)

There are many other such passages throughout the book and in other books of prophecy. Besides these explicit statements, we have an example when God brings judgment to Israel because of David’s sin. God actually gave him a choice between a period of famine, war, or pestilence. David chose pestilence because he said he wanted to be in God’s hand. Yes, in God’s hand:

Then David said to Gad, “I am in great distress. Let us now fall into the hand of the LORD for His mercies are great, but do not let me fall into the hand of man.”

So the LORD sent a pestilence upon Israel from the morning until the appointed time, and seventy thousand men of the people from Dan to Beersheba died. (2 Sam 24:14-15)

Because God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, I think it’s safe to say that God can send pestilence.

But what about Satan? Well, the most obvious example of this from the Bible is Job. First Satan destroyed his belongings, then he killed his servants and his kids, and finally he gave him an illness—something horrible like boils spreading all over his body.

Satan’s plan was to bring Job to the place his wife tempted him to go: “Curse God and die.” He wanted Job to be an example of a person who only worshiped God when things were going well. As soon as life was unbearable, Satan reasoned, Job would turn against God.

I dare say, the majority of people today don’t think either God or Satan has anything to do with the rapid spread of a mutated virus. Rather, it’s just the natural course of things, and all we need to do is “flatten the curve,” which we can do with social distancing.

Of course there is some truth to that way of thinking. We can and should be careful and wise, but in no way can we bypass God’s plans. Satan’s? He may mean evil for us believers, but God means good.

This was the case when God put Joseph in place to deal with a seven year famine.

I can’t help but think God has put each Christ-follower in place for “such a time as this.”

Bottom line: God is a righteous Judge. He may well be bringing judgment on the world—not in flood proportions, but in a way that we will know He is God. All the plans we had—for March Madness or attending conferences or even graduating from school or buying toilet paper in the grocery store—are as nothing. All are changed, and we are foolish if we don’t understand that God’s hand is behind it.

He actually may use Satan’s schemes, or the work of evil men, such as Joseph’s brothers; He may even use the natural way things work—the way viruses mutate and spread. But be clear: God is at work in the world. He wants us to see Him and to know Him.

It’s almost become a politically incorrect thing among Christians to say that God is a Judge, that He exercises justice against people. A pandemic gives us the opportunity to recognize God and His role as a just Judge, that His justice is real, just as His love and mercy is.

Feature image by Our World in Data, dated March 19, 2020.

Twelve Monkeys (or 12 Monkeys) is both the title of a 1995 film and also a 47 episode SyFy channel TV series that debuted in January of 2015 and ended in 2018. A caveat to my post here is that I’ve seen the 1995 movie though not the series and will mainly talk about the film, though I’m familiar with the series and will reference how its view of fatalism is different from its source material. Both the film and the series feature a virus that wipes out the vast majority of humanity. And both ponder the issue of whether it’s really possible to change fate. I’ll talk about what I believe the Bible has to say on that topic near the end.

By the way, some spoilers about the film are in this article–in case you’ve never seen it and were hoping to be surprised. (But that was 25 years ago–surely you’ve seen it by now, right? 🙂 )

Cassandra

Both versions of 12 Monkeys do something all my favorite science fiction does; they use the lives of characters to illustrate ideas, to deliberately get the viewer to thinking about what’s actually true. But pondering the nature of fate isn’t new with Twelve Monkeys, in fact, both stories make deliberate reference to the ancient Greek myth of Cassandra in the name of one of the main characters, Cassandra “Cassie” Railly. The myth of Cassandra, for those who may not be familiar with it, features the title figure of the myth being given the ability to accurately see the future by the god Apollo–but because she would not take the Pagan deity as her lover, he also cursed her so that no one would ever believe her prophecies of inevitable tragedy to come (her visions concerned the fall of Troy, by the way).

La Jetée

But Twelve Monkeys has a much more recent predecessor than Cassandra. Chris Marker in 1962 produced a short film in French called La Jetée, which featured a central plot very similar to the 12 Monkeys movie. La Jetée is a time travel story from a post-apocalyptic (and rather dystopian) future, back to the past for the purpose of averting the apocalypse if possible. La Jetée by the way means “the jetty” as in a pier, but in French it can also be used to describe an observation platform–in this case it refers to such a platform in an airport, where a young version of the main character witnesses the inevitable demise of his older, time-traveling self. Note the French name of the film also sounds like là j’étais, which means “there I was” or “there I used to be,” the title serving as a play on words referring to time travel.

La Jetée Poster
Image source: 3×6.net/sf/category/art/

The story in La Jetée is a told by a voice-over narrator while what’s shown is a photo-montage. The overall presentation is très artistique in a style rather uniquely French that did not carry over very much to the American film it inspired. By the way, as a university student studying foreign languages (at that time, Spanish, French, and German), I took a French literature class circa 1993 in which I watched La Jetée. I liked it very much, though I falsely concluded based on the name “Marker” than the man who produced it must not have been French (he was: born Christian François Bouche-Villeneuve, who took the pen name “Marker” based on “magic markers”).

Note the apocalypse featured in La Jetée was a nuclear holocaust. The main similarity with Twelve Monkeys was the time traveling central figure in the story, who was a prisoner in his own time, whose strong memory of a woman he saw as a child helped him to make it back to the right time period. Emotionally, La Jetée is a tragic love story of a man finding a woman burned into his memory and the two of them falling in love, with him inevitably dying in the process. Though intellectually, the plot’s firmly about fate and it denies any ability of anyone to change the past. Fate is what fate is.

The Virus

The American film aimed for the exact same emotional and intellectual beats as La Jetée, even though presented in a standard movie format, with major Hollywood stars–including Bruce Willis, Madeleine Stowe, and Brad Pitt. It did offer one major change, though. In 1995, shortly after the end of the Cold War, it seemed that a nuclear apocalypse was highly unlikely (in reality it still can happen and still could have happened), so the plot featured a genetically-engineered killer virus that wipes out most of the human race, instead of a massive nuclear war.

The protagonist and his love interest. Image copyright: Universal Pictures

The film made it seem the virus would be deliberately released by a mentally unstable son (Brad Pitt) of a prominent virologist (Christopher Plummer), because of his radical environmental ideas and a disdain for humanity. The unstable son’s activist group he called “the army of the twelve monkeys,” hence the name of the movie in English. (Plot twist: the lunatic son only wanted to release monkeys held to test viruses and put his father in a cage, whereas a serious, stable, but ideologically-driven colleague of the virologist was in fact the one who deliberately released the virus.)

The protagonist meets the lunatic. Image copyright: Universal Pictures

What’s interesting at the moment of writing this post is the movie’s almost-by-accident prediction that a deadly virus could become a such a powerful threat to the survival of humanity.

Could a single virus really threaten the whole human race as portrayed in Twelve Monkeys? Probably not, because a deadly virus provokes public health responses aimed at isolating the infection, as we’re seeing happen now.

But could a powerful virus disrupt the human race and change it forever? Why, yes, at least to a degree. We’re disrupted right now. Though the changes won’t last forever and may not even have much of an effect even one year from now.

But then again, even though no human being really knows the future, it’s probably safe to predict other international viral pandemics will take place. The question is simply where and when and how large the effects will be. With the related question of how human beings will react to these threats.

Viral Fate

So is death by deadly virus part of the inevitable fate of the human race? Is this something we should fear? Would this be worse if someone did this on purpose?

David Morse as the ideologically motivated scientist who releases the virus. Image copyright: Universal Pictures.

I’ve pretty much already said, “no” to all my rhetorical questions, but clarify my position a bit, viruses have to maintain their host alive to spread. The deadlier a virus is, even if it’s very contagious as in aggressively attacking people, the deadliness of the virus works against it spreading. Because dead people don’t get around much! Meaning they don’t actively spread viruses. So outbreaks of extremely deadly viruses tend to hit a certain local area hard, but when people are dying there in mass numbers, people cut off travel to the infectious area so that the area of impact isn’t majorly international. This is how Ebola has been.

Viruses not as deadly generally spread much more easily, especially if some people carry the virus but don’t show symptoms. Which is how Covid 19 works. But of course Covid is deadly enough to require efforts to contain its spread.

Since it’s rather built into the nature of viruses that they by themselves can’t wipe out 99% of the human race, even if a human being were to jigger with them, I would say we should not be in terror of viruses, even though viruses are going to keep popping up. Though it makes sense to take reasonable precautions. Such as washing your hands. And following other guidance given out by public health officials.

Fate Fate

But wait a minute–don’t we Christians believe God knows the future? This is established in the Bible in many places, for example, Isaiah 46:10. Don’t we believe God even has determined in advance when we will die? Among other passages, reference Hebrews 9:27 for this doctrine. So why should we try to prevent our own deaths if that’s already been determined?

Could it be that like La Jetée or Twelve Monkeys we can try to change how events turn out, but in the end, what’s going to happen is what’s going to happen? So we actually have no power to change our own destiny?

Note that the TV Series Twelve Monkeys takes a different approach about changing the past via time travel, i.e. changing fate. In the series, changing fate is not impossible. It’s just very, very difficult (for an explanation, look under Development in the linked article about the series).

So which of the two 12 Monkeys views is correct? Is it possible to change our destiny, but difficult? Or is it impossible?

C.S. Lewis, so brilliant in so many things, offered an opinion of sorts on this subject in story form. In Prince Caspian he has Aslan tell Lucy when she asks what would have happened had they obeyed him better: “To know what would have happened, child?…No, nobody is ever told that.” Which would seem to imply that the choices we actually make are the only ones that really matter. As if choices we didn’t make could not have ever really happened. As if everything we do is already pre-determined.

By the way, I’m not saying Lewis believed human actions were all pre-determined. Just that the one particular bit of dialogue in Prince Caspian sounds that way. In general, Christians have rejected complete pre-determination and have maintained human will must somehow include real choices, or  much of our Christian practice would make no sense. Such as sharing the Gospel in hopes that some will believe.

Though of course some Christians have believed that God pre-determined all actions anyone could take. Though such a position is more a characteristic of people with a deterministic and cause-and-effect view of the universe acting strictly according to natural law, without direct intervention by God. Deist Albert Einstein was and atheist Sam Harris is a strong supporter of total determinism of human actions.

The Bible on What Could Have Happened

Surprisingly, Lewis seems to have goofed when he had Alan tell Lucy nobody is told what would have happened. Because the Bible records in I Samuel 23:9-13 that when David was fleeing from King Saul and occupied the town of Keilah, that the men of the city would turn him over to Saul. So David packed up and left the city–and was never turned over. So David was told what would have happened, even though it didn’t happen.

So the Bible seems to play it both ways–it declares God knows all things and has established what will happen. Yet it calls on us to pray that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven–indicating it isn’t being done that way now.

It would seem the Bible supports the idea that changing the past would be possible, if we ever got a time machine and had the opportunity to try. Though I suspect it might be difficult.

But can we make real choices? Can we in effect change our fate? It certainly seems we can–or why else would David have been told what would have happened?

Conclusion

So since what you do matters, wash your hands and take some reasonable precautions versus Covid 19. 🙂

As for Twelve Monkeys, have you seen it? I’d especially be interested in hearing the thoughts of people who’ve both seen the movie and the TV series.

Are there other sci fi stories that talk about fate in the context of a viral pandemic? Or other time travel stories you’d recommend?