We writers don’t have to incorporate all Truth into our stories because, above all else, we can’t. Instead, we can give our own feeble glimpse of God’s work or nature in order to contribute some small addition to the reader’s knowledge of our great God.
From time to time different writers here at Spec Faith have skirted around the topic of evangelism in our stories. We discussed such ideas as theology in fiction and preachiness, but a recent article in the Christian Research Journal honed this “purpose of art for the Christian” overarching theme into one succinct topic—can, should, does an artist evangelize in his art?
At the heart of this article, “What Has Art to Do with Evangelism?” by Sharon Fish Mooney, is a discussion of the works of Vincent van Gogh. Up to this point, all I knew about Van Gogh was that he was . . . what’s the politically correct term . . . unbalanced? mentally unstable? emotionally challenged? I’m not sure. But I was aware he had “an artist’s temperament,” that he’d cut off an ear, and that he painted some unusual self-portraits.
I don’t know that I’d ever heard he’d one day wanted to be an evangelist and pastor:
Oh, that I may be shown the way to devote my life more fully to the service of God and the Gospel.” (Van Gogh in a letter to his brother Theo, as quoted in “What Has Art to Do with Evangelism?”)
According to Mooney,
To Vincent, art could not only be beautiful but also persuade and speak to the deepest needs of the soul and spirit, his own needs, and the needs of others.
In other words, Van Gogh would be in the camp of evangelization through art. Again Mooney quoted from one of Van Gogh’s letters to his brother:
God is just, so He will use persuasion to bring those who stray back to the straight path. . . . I have my bonds of various kinds, humiliating bonds some of them, and this will only get worse with time; but the words inscribed above Christus Consolator, ‘He is come to preach deliverance to the captives‘ are still true today.
The painting to which he refers depicts Christ surrounded by people such as a woman crying over her child, a slave in chains, and a sixteenth century poet who’d suffered from mental illness.
From Van Gogh, Mooney switches gears and addresses the how: How can art evangelize? She postulates that rather than putting the gospel in front of people the way preaching does—because “by nature, it is allusive and indirect”—art, instead, should “bear witness to truth.” (“Mission, Evangelism, Contextualization, and the Arts,” as quoted by Mooney, emphasis mine).
This “bearing witness” purpose of art seems to mirror God’s self-revelation in nature which John Stott pointed to in his exposition of Romans.
Stott identified four main characteristics of God’s general self-revelation, It is general in the sense it is given to all people rather than to “particular people in particular places, through Christ and the biblical authors”; it is natural, “made through the natural order” rather than the supernatural involving the “incarnation of the Son and the inspiration of the Scriptures”; it is continuous, going on day after day and night after night rather than final and “finished in Christ and in Scripture”; and creational, “revealing God’s glory through creation,” rather than specific, “revealing God’s grace in Christ.” (ibid.)
Mooney applied these four aspects of God’s “bearing witness” of Himself to art and the ability of artists—beings made in God’s image and therefore with the capacity to create—to bear witness, though imperfectly, in the same general way.
Light shining out from the darkness
This idea of art bearing witness resonates with me. Perhaps not every Christian writer will find this idea as striking as I do, but for me, this concept expresses what I’ve believed about story but have struggled to articulate. The goal of evangelizing through story falls between the overt and the silent—the idea that the gospel message should be incorporated into the story, versus the belief that God is glorified as long as the story is well-told, regardless of author intent.
Bearing witness returns the responsibility to the writer to throw light on God and His work in the world, but it releases him from the responsibility of a “proper” reader response. All the writer must do is accurately reflect the face of God. đ
Since our expression is imperfect even at our best, and given that God is infinite and invisible and wrapped in unapproachable light, our “accurate” reflection of Him will be imperfect and incomplete. But that’s rather freeing. We writers don’t have to incorporate all Truth into our stories because, above all else, we can’t.
Instead, we can give our own feeble glimpse of God’s work or nature in order to contribute some small addition to the reader’s knowledge of our great God.
Thinking back to the four characteristics of God’s self-revelation which Stott identified, I find help in sorting out the difference between witness bearing and preaching. The first characteristic, natural, seems most helpful.
“Art that reflects a biblical worldview does not necessarily have to focus explicitly on the person and life of Christ or specific Scripture passages. Everyday occurrences of life and work . . . may also be . . . a natural metaphor for spiritual truth” (ibid).
Metaphors, of course, don’t just happen, meaning that, should an author wish to bear witness through her story using this avenue, it will require work and planning and intention.
But in the end, readers who pay attention should have the opportunity of glimpsing God or at least some aspect of His nature. That, I believe, is the intersection of art and evangelism.
It isn’t uncommon, especially if the subject is horror stories by Christians, for someone in a discussion to quote the following verse to conclude why Christians should avoid writing and reading anything that might focus on evil, death, or gore.
Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. (Phil 4:8)
Presented out of context, it would appear to be a Biblical command to avoid thinking about the formerly mentioned concepts. The following are five reasons why the use of this verse to denounce the darker elements of fiction is a misapplication of its contextual meaning.
1. This verse is a general principle, not a command.
In the context Paul is applying this verse, he is exhorting his listeners on how they should conduct themselves. It is obvious this is a general principle and not a command for the simple reason if we followed it as an absolute command to not think on its opposites, none of us would pay our bills, disciple our children, or take out the trash.
2. The converse of the verse is not necessarily true.
Notice Paul does not say, âDon’t think on these things: death, evil, ugly stuff, violence . . .â He is rightly suggesting that we should think of these virtuous things. He is not saying we shouldn’t ever think on anything else. To do so is putting words in his mouth he didn’t say.
3. The Bible itself would violate this âcommandment.â
The Bible has a healthy dose of focusing on evil and sin. People are brutally killed. Evil kings reign over God’s chosen people for years. Even the central focus of the Gospel involves deceit, scourgings, mockery, and violent deathsânot only Jesus Christ’s on the cross, but even depicting the death of Judas as him falling into a field and his bowels falling out. (Acts 1:18)
To apply this verse consistently to fiction, as some do, would require throwing away the Bible as well.
4. As an absolute âcommandment,â it would prevent Christians from ministering and addressing the many evil circumstances most all experience in this life.
Indeed, if this was a commandment to not think about evil, it would result in ignoring the vast suffering caused by sin so we could retreat into our idealistic bubble . . . hey, wait a minute, a lot of Christians do do that!
Okay, just note it prevents us from fulfilling Jesus’ commands to love one another as He has loved us. We become the priest, the Pharisee, and the scribe who pass by the bleeding Samaritan on the side of the road.
5. You can’t know the good without knowing the bad.
The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is called that for a reason. The two go together. A focus on one highlights the other. That is why Stephen King, in his book Danse Macabre, said of horror:
Horror movies do not love death, as some have suggested; they love life. They do not celebrate deformity, but by dwelling on deformity they sing of health and energy. By showing us the miseries of the damned they help us rediscover the smaller joys of our own lives. They are the barberâs leeches of the psyche, drawing not bad blood but anxiety . . . for a little while anyway.
The deeper the darkness, the more brightly the light shines.
Balance is the issue.
Certainly it would be bad for anyone to only focus on the bad and evil without thinking about the good and the virtues. Likewise, without focusing and thinking about evil regularly, we become like Adam and Eve, who having taken God’s bountiful goodness for granted, coveted what they didn’t have. Because they couldn’t appreciate the evil, they couldn’t appreciate the good. Not until they lost it.
I’m not advocating that we gorge ourselves on evil, gore, and horror. I’m not suggesting that any one person is wrong if they’ve decided to avoid certain fictional horrors. I am suggesting Paul’s statement in Philippians 4:8 is about balance, not an either/or scenario, and that people who refuse to stare evil in the face also tend to not think about the good as often.
Ironically, making this verse out to be a commandment to not think about the horrors of evil end up leading those same people to violate the true intent of the verse: to spend time thinking on those good things of God.
The next time someone whips that verse out to prove Christians shouldn’t partake or write such material, point them here. Maybe they’ll buy a clue.
What a close competition. Our 2015 Spec Faith Winter Writing Challenge came down to a 2-vote difference! We had four fantastic finalists to choose from, but in the end, two that pulled ahead.
Congratulations to our winner: Bethany A. Jennings. I’ll be contacting her privately to arrange her gift card from either Amazon or B&N.
Our second place finisher, nudged out by a measly two votes, was Janeen Ippolito. All voting results should now be visible in the poll.
Special thanks to all of you who participated: the entrants for sharing their stories with us, the visitors who gave initial comments and thumbs up (as best as you could, considering the site problems), and those who voted in the poll.
Contests like this are fun. The thing that continues to amaze me is how varied the stories are even though they all begin with the same first sentence. What a creative bunch of writers we have participating in these challenges! Hope you all enjoyed the stories.
By now, most of us are pretty familiar with the Alex Malarkey Saga. A young boy went into a coma. Came out of the coma. Claimed to have died and gone to Heaven. His father Kevin wrote a book about it, listing Alex as co-author, and has made good money through promotion and sales revenues.
And then the controversy. Claims by the mother that young Alex isnât seeing any of the royalties. Further claims that the story told in the book isnât the real story. And this most recent allegation — by Alex himself — that the whole thing was a childâs lie, blown up into an industry. âI did not die,â said Alex in his open letter to Lifeway (a key distributor) and Tyndale House (the publisher). âI did not go to Heaven.â
Right on the heels of this letter come allegations by Beth Malarkey, Alexâs mom, that Tyndale knew all of this, and continued with publication anyway — and that Lifeway was made aware as well. Needless to say, both Tyndale House and Lifeway have some explaining to do.
Meanwhile, while Tyndale is now under fire for promoting what may be turning out to be a bald-faced lie, the entire Christian publishing industry has had its share of critics from both deeply conservative and more liberal mainstream segments of the author/audience population regarding the so-called âmoralityâ aspects of published works. Indeed, just this week, author Mike Duran called out Christian review site The Christian Manifesto for single-starring what is generally considered a high-quality, well-crafted novel because of a few cuss words. The reviewer was surprised to find that these words had been accepted in a book published by a known Christian publisher — which, given criticism from the other side of the proverbial aisle, is a fair point.
Indeed the CBA — general shorthand for the entire Christian book publishing industry — has been long seen as so ridiculously restrictive in what they allow and do not allow in their books (some would call it whitewashing), that many Christian authors are ignoring the Christian book market, with all its demands for rose-colored, stained-glass reading, entirely and pushing out into the indie market, self-pubbing and going after secular readers.
This same tendency has been going on the music industry for years, with Christian musicians courting secular labels and airplay with vaguely âspiritual songsâ and pop sensibilities. âWeâre not a Christian band,â is the mantra. âWeâre Christians in a band.â
Iâm not a Christian Author. Iâm a Christian who writes books.
And, indeed, one recently-heard justification for Tyndale follows a similar path: itâs a business, not a church. Their job is to make money.
Now, before I go any further, I want to say something: none of this is inherently bad. There is nothing wrong with wanting your work to reach a wider audience. There is nothing wrong with having a 0 JPM (thatâs Jesus Per Minute in Christian Radio Land) pop song or a book that doesnât climax in a teary-eyed conversion scene. Thereâs nothing wrong with making money.
Preachy songs are just bad art, preachy novels suck and, oh yeah, Christians gotta eat, too.
Iâm in favor of Christian writers in the mainstream. Iâm a fan of Christians writing Hollywood blockbusters and hit songs. You canât change the world playing around in an insulated rubber room where the only people you ever talk to are just like you. You canât do it.
But hereâs where it gets sticky. Whether youâre a Christian band or a âChristian in a band;â whether you are writing CBA-approved Amish Romance or an independently published horror novel with a curse word tossed in every few pages; whether you are a Christian exec working for a secular publishing house or an exec at a Christian publishing house — the fact is, you represent something bigger and more important than what you do for a living.
In any Christian media industry, you ultimately hear the term âChristian plumber.â The idea being, of course, that a plumber is a plumber, and why should his faith have anything to do with it? Same with an author, or a musician, or, I suppose, a publisher. A job is a job. Faith is faith. Get it?
Turns out, his faith is important. Itâs important because with that faith, whether you work in a specifically Christian market or not, you live to a higher standard. Not a standard some random blogger is assigning to you. Not the CBA-approved standard. But the standard that comes with being a child of God.
2 Corinthians 5:17 says if you are in Christ, you are âa new creation. The old has gone. The new is here!â A new creation! That means everything we do takes on a new significance. No longer is a plumber just a plumber. He is a new creation in Christ, and when he fixes drains, he fixes drains for Christ (Ephesians 6:5-8). This means he does business, not as a plumber, but as a Christian. He is fair in his pricing, and honest in his labor. He can be trusted in the homes of his clientele and in front of their children. If he fails in this, he may or may not fail as a plumber. But he does fail as a Christian.
1 Corinthians 10:31 reminds us that whatever we do, we are, in Him, to do it âfor the glory of the Lord.â The work of our hands, our business decisions, our interactions with family and with others⌠all of it is meant to be for His glory.
So how does that work in the context of being a Christian in the media arts? Does that mean, in fact, that there must be a Come-To-Jesus on page 342 of every book penned by a Christian author? Does that mean a singer who knows Jesus canât write a song about politics or about romance (without at least once âthanking Godâ for the lover in question)? Absolutely not. Does it mean that everything we do must be evangelical in nature? Once again, no. I see no evidence of that in Scripture.
It does mean we behave as Children of the living God. It means we treat one another with love and respect. It means we deal fairly with others in our business dealings, and work out issues that arise (and they will) with mutual grace, and always with an eye on His Kingdom. As for subject matter, it means we donât glorify that which God finds abhorrent. It means we donât celebrate lust or greed or selfishness. It means we strive for excellence in whatever we do. And yes, it means we are careful with the Truth.
Being a Christian means His Truth is all important. If you are a writer of fantasy fiction, this will mean writing the best fantasy you can, but with an ingrained nugget of Godâs Truth and wisdom. It means if youâre in a band, your goal is not to get with that hot little groupie backstage. It means youâre not singing or writing or playing in a way that mocks God or His followers.
It means that, if youâre a publisher, you use a little discernment when it comes to whether or not youâre going to publish a dubious and potentially sacrilegious piece of saccharine Heavenly Tourism. It means the Bottom Line is also among the Bottom Priorities, and that the first and foremost is to glorify God. It means that, if you belong to a Christian publishing house, the potential for sales and merchandising is of far, far lesser import than the work of spreading His word. It means if you get a call and discover one of your authors may be being treated unfairly, you investigate and make it right. And if you get that call aaleging, even  more importantly, that the claims in your supposedly true book are, in fact, false, your Faith dictates that you take action and you make it right.
It means your chief concern is not whether you can do something without being caught, but whether doing so meets the ethical and moral standards  set by the Highest authority.
In short, being a Christian means you act like Christ, whether youâre a plumber, author, publisher, or Malarkey.
Itâs high time Heaven got in the news more often.
Since last week, Godâs eternal dwelling Place has been cited in dozens of articles about a purportedly nonfiction book written by a(n) author(s) surnamed Malarkey.1 Last week on SpecFaith I shared the news and offered some quick thoughts.2 Now it seems right to offer a few more.3
If you wish to discuss the evangelical business/publishing side of the debate, stick around for tomorrowâs guest article by Randy Streu. Here I instead hope to re-raise the topic of Heaven and six major myths that even Christians believe about Heaven â and especially about Godâs oft-ignored promised successor to Heaven, the New Heavens and New Earth.
1. Everybody goes to Heaven (except Hitler and other very bad people).
The classic flannelgraph scene of Heaven is quite biblical (with the disclaimer that Heaven will include more variety in skin tones and garment choice).
Nope. Scriptural evidence to the contrary is ample â see sobering passages such as Matt. 7:21â23 and Rev. 20:11â15. But these texts will seem insensible or cruel apart from the biblical concepts that the universe is Godâs and that true eternal happiness cannot exist apart from Him. So before we even talk about how this universe is God-centered (and why this actually means He is the most loving He could ever be), consider these questions:
First, if you arenât certain God is the most amazing loving Being in the universe, what would attract you to Heaven? What in the world could make Heaven a paradise apart from Him?
Second, could you really be satisfied with any good pleasure that exists â food, learning, travel, material goods, sex, rest, work â for ever and ever, with no challenge or variation or basis in Someone perfect and infinite and greater than all those things? Wouldnât such a place be not like Heaven but actually the Other Place?
Only a God-centered person (as the Christian is becoming) is able to find true joy because the only joy humans could ever find is with God the Creator at the center of everything.
2. Heaven is the God-centered personâs (a Christianâs) final destination.
Among Christians this may be the biggest Heaven myth.
No, itâs not a heresy. No, it doesnât make you unspiritual. But it does lead to uncertainties about our life now that are at best unnecessary and at worst actively harmful.
What happens when people die? Their bodies and souls are unnaturally torn apart; their bodies stay here while their souls go to either heaven or hell. Praise God that those who die in Christ go to heaven, but never forget that this isnât the way itâs supposed to be. The only reason anyone ever goes to heaven is because of sin.
More importantly, Scripture forecasts a literally heaven-shaking change for Heaven:
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, âBehold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God.
â Rev. 21:1-3
From what Iâve seen, all the âheaven tourismâ books ignore this promise. Itâs one case when the firm truth of Scripture is more obviously joyous than manâs shallow replacement.
3. Christians shouldnât try to imagine what Heaven will be like.
For me, author Randy Alcorn was the first person to challenge, clearly and biblically, the notion that Christians would best avoid imagining Heaven (and can ignore New Earth).
In Heaven chapter 2 (PDF), Alcorn says many Christians fear going too far with the whole topic and thus avoid even a healthful use of their imaginations:
⌠God has given us glimpses of Heaven in the Bibleâto fire up our imagination and kindle a desire for Heaven in our hearts. And whatâs why Satan will always discourage our imaginationâor misdirect it to ethereal notions that violate Scripture. As long as the resurrected universe remains either undesirable or unimaginable, Satan succeeds in sabotaging our love for Heaven.
Some with good intentions even use âsilencerâ verses to avoid the topic, such as 1 Cor. 2:9:
I said to [one pastor who misquoted the text] what I always say: âYou didnât complete the sentence. You also have to read verse ten.â Hereâs how the complete sentence reads: ââNo eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love himââbut God has revealed it to us by his Spiritâ (emphasis added). The context makes it clear that this revelation is Godâs Word (v. 13), which tells us what God has prepared for us.
4. Heaven currently has streets of gold, pearly gates, etc.
For all we know the present-day Heaven could have these things. Again, itâs not sinful or less-spiritual to speculate within Scriptural parameters. But as C. Michael Patton notes about such popular images (which are reflected in many âI went to heavenâ books):
If the streets of heaven are made of literal gold, this does not come until the new heavens and earth are created (Rev. 21:21)
Scripture only describes golden streets in the New Jerusalem. This is not simply a nonliteral stand-in for present-day reality but (in some form) a prophecy of a literal and future place.
5. Heaven wonât have non-sinful yet âearthlyâ elements like food, drink, books, adventures, culture, or even popular culture (stories and songs)
Even Alcorn waxes slightly uncertain about whether humans could enjoy actual DVD discs, dictionaries, or even daiquiris in the renewed paradise of New Earth.
I am more convinced there is no biblical reason even to cast suspicion on these human-made things (though sinful man currently and constantly uses these things to help him sin). If New Earth is this physical planet, only fire-blasted of all sin (2 Peter 3), then why not presume that at least some of manâs good devices â made even incidentally according to Godâs cultural mandate â would survive or be remade? Why presume (as many do) that even if Godâs new world is physical, we will revert to an agrarian or âprimitiveâ lifestyle?
For more on this idea, along with how this supports fantastical storytelling and can actually help us fight temptations to materialism, see the Will Fiction Last Forever? series.
6. âDonât be so heavenly minded that youâre of no earthly good.â
This is an especially annoying bit of folk wisdom about Heaven. It presumes odd myths like:
Some truth, even truth God has chosen to reveal to His people, is always dangerous. (But Godâs truth is not intrinsically dangerous. Only lies can harm Godâs people.)
God did not directly promise His future renewal of creation where His people will live forever and enjoy His gifts such as work, dancing, singing, culture, trade, ships, cities and gardens. (But He did, and there is no biblical cause to ignore these truths.)
The central problem is that other people âthink too muchâ about Heaven in the first place. (But the problem instead is that people think too unbiblically about Heaven.)
All that is nonsense. I would even say all those notions have no place in biblical Christianity.
We might as well say, âDonât be so Jesus-minded that youâre of no human goodâ â as if thinking âtoo muchâ about Jesus will distract us from the needs of people around us.
Rather, the Christians who strive to study biblical truth about Heaven and especially the future New Heavens and New Earth, and who base their anticipations and imaginations on biblical truth, will also think more biblically and faithfully and lovingly about this Earth.
As C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity:
Looking forward to the eternal world, is not, as some suppose, a form of escapism or wishful thinking. It is one of the things a Christian is meant to do. It does not mean we are to leave this present world as it is. If you read history you will find that the Christians who did the most for the present world were just those who thought the most of the next. Aim for heaven and you get earth thrown in.
Thus, if you study the Bible, enjoy Godâs truth and use it anticipate and imagine a fantastical Jesus-centered world purged of sin and death â and if you also work to reject unbiblical, joyless vague, and man-centered notions about Heaven â your faith will grow stronger.
Did I miss any myths? Have you ever changed your views of Heaven and/or the world beyond?
Here is an idea: People could use this surname as the basis for a terrific joke that calls into question the validity of the book and its contents. ↩
Since then the best article Iâve seen that surveys the tragic debacle is from The Guardian here. ↩
For the past few weeks, we’ve had a running discussion about what is wrong with Christian speculative fiction and how we can fix it. Here’s a look at the brighter side.
For the past few weeks, we’ve had a running discussion about what is wrong with Christian speculative fiction and how we can fix it. It’s a worthwhile debate, but today I’m going to look at the bright side – the brighter side, anyway. Here are some complaints about Christian SF, or just Christian fiction in general, put into perspective.
1) Most Christian fiction is mediocre, or alternatively, Most Christian fiction is not great: This is a sentiment often expressed against Christian fiction; it may even rise to the level of a casually expressed judgment. But when considered as a serious analysis of Christian fiction, it’s vaguely hilarious, like the Irish newspaper headline that proclaimed “The Election Went As Most People Hoped It Would”. See, that’s the way it works.
The majority of Christian books is mediocre; that is, indeed, the definition of mediocre. Few Christian books are great; the definition of greatness is, after all, that it is better than most things. You cannot denounce the majority for being average when the definition of average is that the majority is like it.
We take note of authors like Charles Dickens and C.S. Lewis and J.K. Rowling precisely because they’re rare. By their standard, Christian fiction generally falls short. But if it makes you feel any better, secular fiction generally falls short, too.
2) There are more good secular books than good Christian books. Purely as a matter of statistics, this sounds accurate. But is it a matter of statistics and, furthermore, do the people who make this criticism know it might be?
What I mean is this: Far more books are published in the general market than in the Christian market. It stands to reason that there will be more of every kind of book in the secular market, including good and bad. When determining the relative quality of Christian fiction, the real metric is not: Are there numerically more good secular books? It is: Are there proportionally more good secular books? It is the percentage, not the number, that matters.
I don’t know the percentage of really good Christian novels, or the percentage of really good secular novels. But neither do many of the people who condemn Christian fiction, and until we’ve settled the matter of statistics, this criticism is meaningless.
3) “I don’t read Christian fantasy”, and any variant thereof. There are critics who stress two points regarding Christian fiction: (1) It’s bad, and (2) They don’t read it. Somehow, they never worry about the question, “If you don’t read it, how do you know?”
In the worst cases, such critics have barely even tried Christian fiction before issuing their universal condemnations. I will not stop to consider the unfairness of this, or even the more interesting fact that Christians who would be ablaze with indignation if their fellow believers doled out similar denunciations of secular fiction take them solemnly when made against Christian fiction. The salient point is the irrationality of it. Imagine if statisticians had standards like that. Both college students I interviewed disliked jazz, so … ALL COLLEGE STUDENTS HATE JAZZ.
Of course, the criticism may be more valid than that, coming from people who used to read Christian fiction. Even then, “I don’t read Christian fiction” is a caveat to any criticism. Because things change, and people who judge Christian fiction based on what they read five or ten or fifteen years ago may find their judgments out of date.
As we consider the state of Christian fantastical fiction, it’s worth remembering that more important than where we are now is where we’re going. For that we need a long view, to take into account where we’ve been. I think that, for those of us who want to see Christian fantastical fiction flourish, it’s trending our way.
And that, more than anything else, is the bright side.
The Christian Examiner ran an article recently on the gore of the AMC TV show, The Walking Dead, and how its fascination with death and the gore associated with it depicted in the show runs counter to a Christian viewpoint. Franklin Graham is quoted from January’s edition of Decision magazine:
That program is just one of numerous televisions programs that have garnered tremendous followings by fixating on gore and death. . . . At least half a dozen prime time shows are strangely enamored and captivated by it. . . . These shows, when combined with hugely popular video games like Mortal Kombat, demonstrate how obsessed with death our culture has become.
“Think you’ve seen blood and gore? Think you’ve seen wild, way-out humor? You ain’t seen nothing yet!”
There is no question The Walking Dead is a gore-fest. Rolling Stones columnist Rob Sheffield, in November 2012, called it âthe grossest show in TV history.â A quick search on YouTube offers up gruesome death scenes that remind me of the film I saw when I was 5 or 6, The Gruesome Twosome, that gave me a lifelong aversion to that sub-genre. I only watched about a minute of a ten minute depiction of death scenes in the TV series before bowing out. I got the picture.
While I sympathize with Mr. Graham’s concerns about our society’s fascination with gore and death, I respectfully submit that his reaction, like many Christians on this subject, is equally in error. It is not enough to condemn it, wash our hands of it, and move on.
I don’t think it is an obsession with death that is the problem, but an over-focus on death for entertainment as opposed to strengthening spiritual character.
The Bible doesn’t shy away from death. It even depicts a few gruesome deaths. It states we will all die. Jesus also talks about His own death extensively with His disciples. One of the central events depicted in the New Testament is the death of Jesus on the cross, by which He defeats death through death. Paul depicts baptism as a form of death and resurrection; the dying of the Old Man and the renewing of him by the Giver of Life, Jesus Christ. Death and life are central themes to the Gospel.
Jesus warns, âAnd fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.â (Mat 10:28 ASV)
But what do we tend to do? We view death as gruesome and gory, and do our best to hide it out of sight. We avoid the reality in favor of keeping it a fantasy trope. Like the Roman citizen’s enjoying an evening out at the Colosseum to watch lions devour a victim, who is deemed to have deserved it, we’d rather face the gore of death on the screen and treat it as mere entertainment.
When I lived in Bethany, Oklahoma in the 80s, people began to complain about the dead-cat truck. The city regularly had an employee collecting dead cats and piling them into the open bed of a truck to haul off and dispose. That meant people who pulled up behind this truck at stop lights had a front row seat to piles of dead cats. The city eventually had to cover the truck bed to halt the complaints.
Yet, many of those same people probably went home that evening and watched a violent TV show where people died. We hide from the reality by experiencing it as entertainment. Fr. Stephen Freeman drives home this point:
I have often asked the question, âHow many of you have seen a baby be born?â and âHow many of you have actually witnessed a personâs death?â I am still surprised when the answer comes out to be but a small minority. There are two things people have to do: be born and die. However, it appears that a majority of modern populations have seen neither (women obviously have an advantage over men in witnessing the birth of a child).
I bet if he had then asked how many had viewed someone dying in a movie or TV show, a majority of the hands would have shot up.
A key characteristic of Christian fiction is how it handles death.
Monks surround themselves with reminders of death. Not out of morbidity, but to stay focused on what matters.
Does the story hide from the reality of death? Is death mere entertainment? Are the âbad guysâ consistently ending up dead while the âgood guysâ always avoiding it? Is death seen mainly as a punishment or defeat?
Or is death, in all its reality, faced head on? Is death infused with meaning rather than something to avoid? Is physical death not depicted as the end and ultimate evil, but rather the second death at the Great Judgment? Is there victory in death? Has death lost its sting?
While I understand the marketing concerns to a CBA audience, the reality is the absence of sex, gore, cussing, and violence doesn’t make a book Christian-compatible. How it handles death, however, determines how in sync with the Gospel a book is.
Do Christians need to focus on the reality of death more completely? How can Christian fiction aid that instead of being a diversion from it?
I know those who have followed the 2015 Winter Writing Challenge were not expecting to vote in the finals. My original intent was to bring in at least one judge. But best laid plans don’t always pan out. See for […]
I know those who have followed the 2015 Winter Writing Challenge were not expecting to vote in the finals. My original intent was to bring in at least one judge. But best laid plans don’t always pan out. See for example the “thumbs up” glitches we experienced which didn’t allow some of us to vote apart from voicing our choice through comments.
So here’s what we’ll do. As in the past, readers will select the winner of this challenge, and that writer will receive a $25 gift card to either Amazon or B&N—whichever they prefer.
You’ll also notice there are four finalists instead of three. There was, in fact, a tie, but considering the thumbs problem, I didn’t feel comfortable eliminating one by the luck of the draw. I’d much rather have readers decided. (See poll below).
With that being said, here are our four finalists and their entries:
Bethany A. Jennings
Ryder needed to know the truth, but he was pretty sure none of the others were interested.
He pressed his fists to his forehead. Convincing his friends to help him break into the city hall and search the android registry would be tricky. They might be talented hackers â and the only ones he knew â but no one would go along with a stunt like that, unless he admitted his suspicion.
Iâm a robot. And I have the virus.
Sick to his stomach, Ryder scanned the article on his tablet again.
âAs part of an executive order to protect citizens against infected androids, government officials will collect and examine all android citizens between the dates of June twelfth and June thirty-first. Normally functioning androids will receive special security upgrades and be released to their homes after a standard memory refresh so they can resume their ordinary lives. Those with compromised systems will be shut down to protect society.â
Fingers twitching, Ryder stashed the tablet in his backpack again. He stared at the cafeteria linoleum. It must be true. All these twitches, these glitches, these fingers that go numb. Nobody else gets this. No one else has this photographic memory, either. Iâm one of the androids.
Despair pooled in Ryderâs mind.
Androids were designed to blend in with society and live ordinary, innocent lives. They werenât supposed to suspect their true nature.
And they were never, ever supposed to have random urges to kill people.
It couldnât be normal to see dangerous red auras around some individuals, only sometimes â auras that made him feel like he was in imminent danger and needed to destroy them. Ever since he started began the red he felt less and less in control, like one day he would snap and do something unthinkable.
Iâm infected for sure. Iâm a ticking time bomb.
Would being shut down hurt?
He looked across the high school cafeteria. Atta, Leroy, and Fitch sat at a table together, chatting, biting egg salad sandwiches, and licking the mayonnaise off their fingers. All their dreams and plans for the future flashed through Ryderâs mind. Breaking into city hall could end with them all incarcerated â and him dead.
There it is again! Fear seized him as he focused on Leroy and that red aura came into view, shimmering around his buddyâs frame like an omen of death.
Ryder reached carefully into his backpack, groping deep in the bottomâŚ
No! Not my knife!
He whisked out his hand and held it in a fist against his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut until the desperate feeling passed. When he dared to look at Leroy again, the aura was gone. All his memories of friendship and nerdy hangouts with the boy flooded back, piercing him with grief.
June twelfth was too far away.
Iâm going to kill my best friend in the whole world, if somebody doesnât shut me down first.
Ryder clenched his jaw. I have to turn myself in.
He walked toward the door, casting a last glance at his childhood friend.
For Leroy. Heâd do it for him.
– – – – –
Hannah
Ryder needed to know the truth, but he was pretty sure none of the others were interested. Truth proved undervalued these days. Arrogant pride rose in its place. They were fools, all of them, not to care from whence the assassin came. An attempt on the reeveâs life came as no surprise, but the attempted killer provoked further study, a study no one else cared to make.
âCareful,â the guard said, the keys jangling in his shaking hands as he unlocked the cell door. âHeâs a strange one. He doesnât act like any of the other prisoners.â
Ryder snorted, then regretted it as he inhaled the pungent stench of the dungeons. He pushed aside the cringing guard and strode into the cell. It was utterly dark inside, the light from the hall refusing to enter. So dark, so cold, so silent. He froze, his heart suddenly slamming up into his throat. In that brief moment, as sweat trickled down his neck, he thought he was about to die.
But the guard handed him a torch and the small chamber flooded with warm light. There upon the floor sat the assassin, his wrists chained behind him to the wall. He did not look up, but relaxed cross-legged on the floor as if he sat in a meadow. To Ryderâs disgust, the man still wore his armor. Had the guards even bothered to search him? Or had they thought it enough to lock him here and forget about him? It had happened before; murders were common.
This murderer was not common.
He was small for a man, delicately boned. His armor slicked over his body, too fey to have been made by any human craftsmen. Carefully, anticipating a striking snake, Ryder reached forward to brush away the prisonerâs hair from his ears.
âI did not know elves trained assassins,â Ryder said.
The assassin met his gaze. âMuch has changed,â he said, his voice matching the cynical smile twisting his fair face.
That was true. Still, something in Ryderâs heart bowed heavily, something that had hoped that even with everything, the elves had managed to maintain their purity. It was a lie heâd told himself.
âWhy did you come? Who wants our reeve dead?â he demanded.
The elf laughed softly, shaking his head. âHow are you going to make me answer your questions?â The shadows under his eyes, the gauntness of his body, the deltha tattoo across his faceâŚpain would not be a persuader for him.
Ryder swallowed, that something still desperate. âThere is no truth in this world anymore. All is darkness and deceit. Tell me one truthâŚone truth at least.â
The assassinâs brow rose in amusement. âVery well,â he said. âThe reeve is dead.â
In the silence that followed, Ryder heard the approaching messenger shouting out words of âpoisonâ and âdeath.â Slowly, he turned away from the prisoner and stepped outside, closing the door behind him with numb fingers.
Truth was a terrible thing.
– – – – –
Janeen Ippolito
Ryder needed to know the truth, but he was pretty sure none of the others were interested.
After all, they werenât the one about to be married off to a plant.
A Phytaen.
One pale skinned, green-eyed sun-sucker had been seen around the town of Gap Neck with the local realtor, and next thing, they had brought the whole Forest up with them and settled in the Horse River area.
No one had thought theyâd come north, even though they had the proper identification and paperwork. Rumors passed around clusters of old ladies at the beauty parlor and young men racing their tractors up and down the pot-holed back alleys.
Phytaens.
The ones with the leaves. Four of them, coming right out of their backs around the shoulder blades. With eyes that flashed forest or spring or lime green.
The pheromones. Special essences Phytaens secreted, that only certain humans could taste. Honey. Lilac. Mint.
Ryder had just been on his own familyâs land. Up in the brush there were some old, dead trees that would be perfect for firewood. His family needed all the wood they could get. Now, in Fall, it was time to harvest.
He didnât remember the Phytaen girl. But apparently sheâd seen him, with his chainsaw and his old work boots and heavy gloves, and thought he was special. Had become sure of it when he muttered something about the taste of rose petals.
Ryder never said it was a good taste.
A few days later, the girl had come into pollen on her leaves, which meant she was compatible with him. When her parents visited a week later, they laid out the facts.
She wanted him. For every season he lived among the Phytaens as the girlâs husband, the sun-suckers would use their pheromones and plant skills to make the farm prosper.
It was up to him, Dad said. He was nineteen now. Mom wondered if any of this family were good Christians. Phytaens were humans, just lived longer, with a few more quirks. There were tales of conversions about them, same as anyone else. His little brothers thought it was gross, and little sisters cooed over how romantic it was.
Ryder just wished heâd got to a different part of the brush that day.
But his family could use the help. The Phytaens were known to be people of their word.
There he waited, on that cool fall morning, his family gathered around him. Waited with that one question on his mind. And he needed the truth.
What on earth was this girl thinking?
It was a question that never got answered, for as soon as the
love-struck Phytaen and her family arrived, Ryder did something that ruined everything.
He sneezed. Sneezed again. And again, more and more until it felt like his head would bust open from the whiplash.
Turned out that some humans were allergic to Phytaen pollen.
– – – – –
Caiti Marie
Ryder needed to know the truth, but he was pretty sure none of the others were interested.
He didnât blame them. They had seen one man die already, watched him bleed out on the polished metal floor, watched him gasp out his last breath beneath the eye of the Kingâs Hand. They were afraidâRyder was, too. But while the others in his team had watched the blood run red on silver, or watched the strangerâs chest heave in painful gasps, Ryderâs attention had been caughtâirrevocably, eternally caughtâin the manâs tortured eyes.
Blue eyes. Tired eyes. But peaceful eyes, eyes that held Ryderâs gaze as long as the man could control his own body, as he whispered when he no longer had the strength to shout, âChristos is Lord.â
It was the peace, the unashamed strength in the manâs gaze, that had driven Ryder to the darkness of the Cityâs Deepest, where the Cityâs Dust gathered, to see if his curiosity would result in answers before it resulted in death; for though they said the man had died for mad treason, Ryder had seen men who did. They never died with peace.
âItâs illegal to come to the Deepest.â
The man, who claimed to be the strangerâs brother and had sat silent for so long, spoke with soft authority.
Though startled, Ryder kept still. âYes.â
âWhy did you?â
The answer came hard. âYour⌠Your brother was strong.â Strong and seeming innocent.
âNo,â the man said. âMy brother was weak. Christ is strong.â
Ryder knew the name; that was all. âI donât understand.â
A slow breath shifted the air in the blackness of the Deepest. âWhatâs your name?â
âRyder.â
âThatâs not your true name?â
âNo, sir.â
Everyone knew a Ryder was a messenger of the Kingâs Eliteâ Except this stranger, perhaps. To speak oneâs true name after taking vows was to renounce the King.
âRyder,â the man said. âMy brother served the Son of God. And to His servants, Christ gives strength.â
âStrength to die?â
âStrength to live,â the man said, âeven in death.â
The words seemed senseless. âThe Hand said he died for mad treason,â Ryder said.
The man paused. Ryder could hear his breath hitting the walls of the tight compartment.
âYou owe allegiance to your Captain, yes?â
âYes.â
âAnd he owes allegiance to the King?â
âYes.â
âHow if he were to renounce allegiance to the King, make himself to be King?â
âThat,â Ryder said, âwould be mad treason.â
âThere is a King to whom your Captain and your Kingâ yes, and youâ owe an allegiance beyond all others. Only, your King has renounced allegiance to Him. If your Captain renounced your King and you clung to your allegiance, would you be traitor to your Captain?â
Ryder said nothing.
âMy brother died, not for mad treason, but for being a true Kingâs man.â
âBut heâs dead.â
âMy King,â the man said, âis King of death and the grave.â He leaned toward Ryder. âLife is found in no one else, Ryder.â
âSir,â Ryder said, trying to see him in the darkness. âMy name is Manoah.â
– – – – –
Unlike the preliminary round, for the finals you may vote only once for one entry. Voting ends Monday, January 26, 9:00 AM (Pacific time).
This all started when Alex Malarkey, whose name is on the front of The Boy Who Came Back from Heaven, directly rebuked his own part of the story in exactly the fashion “Heaven tourism” critics would expect in their most idealistic dreams.
I did not die. I did not go to Heaven.
I said I went to heaven because I thought it would get me attention.
He went even further and stated an affirmation of the Christian doctrine of sola Scriptura.
When I made the claims that I did, I had never read the Bible. People have profited from lies, and continue to. They should read the Bible, which is enough. The Bible is the only source of truth. Anything written by man cannot be infallible.1
She and Alex had already been doing everything they could to get the word out that The Boy Who Came Back from Heaven told a largely imaginary story, and that most of the details had been greatly embellished and exaggerated in the writing. Publicity about the book had incited a cult of afterlife enthusiasts and hangers-on who wanted to canonize Alex and idolize him as a mystical seer with an open connection to heaven.
Johnson characterizes The Boy Who Came Back from Heaven as largely the work of Alex’s father, Kevin Malarkey. Johnson also clarifies that this is not the first time the two Malarkeys, Alex and Beth, have stood against the one Malarkey, Kevin the book’s author.
As for me — this makes me curious to obtain the book along with its more-popular cousin, Heaven Is For Real.
But it sounds like the latter book’s authors at least had better and more Gospel-inclusive motivations for sharing what they sincerely believe is Colton Burpo’s firsthand true-story experience of visiting Heaven and seeing Jesus.
Quick thoughts: ‘Heaven tourism’ books do not help Christians
First is the “sufficiency of Scripture” response — though with the disclaimer that people could theoretically have near- or after-death experiences without automatically challenging Scripture or its sufficiency. But Christians must know that Scripture should easily pwn all such anecdotes.
Second, these books draw far too much attention to the present-day Heaven — which is an amazing place, don’t get me wrong — and act like that’s the Christian’s final destination. It absolutely unequivocally is not the Christian’s final destination. Jesus Christ has instead promised to renew Earth, the physical creation, and touch Heaven down here (Rev. 21:1-2). Then “the dwelling of God [will be] with man” (Rev. 21:3).
Third, from what I have so far seen, most of these books contain profuse amounts of sentimental silliness and even anti-biblical notions. Even Heaven Is For Real recounts some details that sound suspiciously like a child making stuff up — and I don’t think some well-meaning young parents know how imaginative children can be.
Fourth, there’s nothing wrong about anticipating God’s afterlife or even speculating (with Scriptural parameters) what this life will be like. But it’s dangerous to put our speculations in a book and call it “nonfiction” without clarifying that these are speculations and imaginations.2 So this objection is about genre labeling as much as it is about making sure our own imaginations are not being put on the same level as God’s holy word.
Fifth, it’s alarming how much people want to cling to their nonsense beliefs even when the very author of those beliefs is now disclaiming them. As Johnson notes, “When Alex has tried to make similar statements on Facebook or in other online forums, he has been routinely shouted down, his comments deleted, and his fragile voice silenced.” More than likely this will continue even after stores and publishers — better late than never — are pulling their own product. And that’s where the main problem is: not first that authors and publishers are making these books or that publishers are printing them, but that too many people want to believe them.
Sixth, the fact that someone wrote a fictitious “Heaven tourism” account and had the surname Malarkey proves that God, for whatever His reasons in providentially allowing this sort of thing to go on, occasionally has a stinging (if not cliched) sense of humor.
Those are my thoughts. What do you think?
“The Boy Who Came Back from Heaven” Recants Story, Rebukes Christian Retailers, PulpitandPen.org, Jan. 13, 2015. A brief note about the wording: the doctrine of sola Scriptura or the sufficiency of Scripture does not necessarily mean that “the Bible is the only source of truth.” Rather, this doctrine holds that the Bible is God’s final and only direct truth-revelation about Himself and His Story of redemption, and is entirely without error. By contrast, all other truth-reflections in the world are at best echoes of His truth and contain some error. ↩
For example, Randy Alcorn in Heaven offers a biblically grounded survey of Scripture’s promises about not only Heaven, but the future New Heavens and New Earth. When he does speculate about, say, spaceships and dinosaurs on New Earth, he is very careful to keep this imaginations in line with Scripture. He is also careful that these do not distract from New Earth’s chief feature, Jesus Christ. ↩
I thought saying this would bring challenges and objections, and I wasnât kiddinâ.
When I suggest, âWe cannot take great, God-exalting beauties and truths (including stories) straight from individual Christians to the world by skipping over his organized Church,â and then, âItâs time to start asking the capital-C Church of Christâs people how we can best help them,â there are some things I mean and things I donât mean.
1. So should we ask church people what stories we can write for them?
No. Thatâs not my meaning for at least two reasons.
First, Iâm addressing primarily fans of fantastical stories, then creators/producers of such stories firstin their capacity as fans. When I suggested, â[ask] what [church friends] need from you as a fantastical fan or as an author,â this left the door open for the perennial view that Christian fantasy authors get things done mainly by writing fantastical stories, not mainly by enjoying and sharing fantastical stories (first othersâ, and then their own).
Second, as several commentators pointed out, many Christians in biblical local churches â which are part of the capital-C Church â have confused or incorrect views about what stories must do. These views include a) the âguilty pleasureâ approach, in which Christians enjoy fantastical stories but feel others would condemn them, b) the âitâs all evilâ approach.
Asking âWhat can I write for you (or folks like you)?â doesnât address these core challenges.
2. What if my local church doesnât get fantastical stories and songs?
Some SpecFaith friends said they could never share their love for fantastical stories in the local churches they know, without severe awkwardness or even spiritual condemnation.
In short this objection goes: My church friends donât get fantasy or donât get my love for it.
The solution starts with this: Yes. Yes, they actually do. They just donât know it yet.
Their Book is full of fantasy. Their Gospel â the main Story of the book â is the ultimate âmonomythâ in which a humble Hero on an epic quest trains, helps others, dies, then in a stunning plot twist slays the dragon anyway, returns to life and secures ultimate victory.
Alongside the Gospel the Book includes amazing miracles, ancient cultures, battles, and the fate of nations and ultimately the world. And ours is a religious faith grounded in all of this.
Fans may start planned âsubversionâ efforts by asking God to give you excitement for the Bibleâs ultimate fantastical (yet true) Story of the Gospel. Then for church friends, we can draw more attention to the Bibleâs most fantastical and strangest portions. Geek out over Jesusâs salvation, Mosesâs miracles, Elijahâs taunts, Ezekielâs visions. You might even start to work in some careful comparisons to pop-culture heroes who remind you of biblical truths. Even in healthful environments some people will give you odd looks. But that might not last as more people gradually realize youâre serious about being a geek about other stories and heroes so that you can better fulfill your chief end of loving the Gospel and the Hero Jesus.
3. What if my church stinks about building real-world friendships at all?
Other SpecFaith friends said the problem is even worse than âmy church friends donât get this part of me.â Instead their church is the sort in which they â or people altogether â are not even growing organized yet natural relationships in Christ. Itâs all a big machine.
I wish I could offer some excuse or âprosperity gospelâ-style formula to fix such situations.
I canât.
I might suggest that sometimes people are more awkward in group situations, or certain religious environments, for other reasons besides âthey are just rude and closed-off.â
But thatâs not an excuse; itâs a mark of immaturity. Christâs people must love one another in a diverse Body of Christ (the global Church) as organized into biblical local bodies of Christ (local churches). One-another love means learning and living and worshiping with people who enjoy all kinds of different things so far as theyâre not actually sins.
If someone in a church enjoys fantastical stories (or doesnât enjoy them), and gets the cold shoulder â e.g., worse than mere misunderstanding â thatâs a sin.
All I can say is that Iâm deeply sorry about and for churches where that happens.
This goes beyond the scope of this article, but one organizationâs suggested ânine marks of a healthy churchâ does not include âThe Right Views on popular culture and/or fantastical stories.â However, those nine marks do include biblical preaching/teaching and church membership with loving accountability â all based on the Gospel, the Story of the Bible that Jesus Christ saves and grows sinners. These biblical requirements will naturally lead to growth in love among diverse people, along with more-biblical views on stories and songs.
What if a church doesnât care about Gospel-centered teaching, membership and all the rest?
In some cases Christians may need to seek other churches if theyâre available. Our reason ought not be, âBecause they donât get the stories I love.â Our reason ought to be, âBecause this church from the top down doesnât get the Gospel, the Story of the Savior Whom I love.â
In other cases Christians may need to work with what they have, even in churches that donât (yet) really care for the Gospel Story. This is annoying, but part of living in a groaning age in which the Church and local churches arenât yet what they ought to be. For Godâs sake ânot first for geekhoodâs sake â make do with your own Bible study, internet ministries, online sermons, and relationships with people who do want to regard the Gospel highly.
And in other cases, a church may be seeking Gospel-centeredness but its members donât yet smile (even with amusement) on geeky Christians. Now the task becomes greater: You are on a quest in strange territory. Time to prove your devotion to Christ and find out how you can serve this tradition-laden land and earn peopleâs trust. Or as Michelle R. Wood said:
Iâve always found in any organization that work talks louder than talk. Be integrated into the church through ministry: offer to teach, offer to serve, offer in whatever way you can. Trust me, there is not a church on this planet (or nonprofit for that matter) that will turn away a dedicated volunteer. People are far more willing to listen and work with you when youâve shown youâre willing to listen and work with them.
And you may be surprised what you find once you peel back the surface and really start talking to people, including the fact that theyâre already fans to begin with.
Again, this may not always work. And in that case, youâre more than welcome to share your stories here and find community empathy and support.
Next week: Geeky fans sometimes do find a place in a local church and can begin to share the stories they love. It happened to me, anyway, and I hope to share some of my own story.
From time to time different writers here at Spec Faith have skirted around the topic of evangelism in our stories. We discussed such ideas as theology in fiction and preachiness, but a recent article in the Christian Research Journal honed this “purpose of art for the Christian” overarching theme into one succinct topic—can, should, does an artist evangelize in his art?
there will be more of every kind of book in the secular market, including good and bad. When determining the relative quality of Christian fiction, the real metric is not: Are there numerically more good secular books? It is: Are there proportionally more good secular books? It is the percentage, not the number, that matters.
