In the first part of this series, I referenced Deuteronomy 18:9-12 – and who doesn’t when writing about magic and Christianity? But continuing down the passage (context is king), verses 14 and 15 are just as illuminating to the question:

The nations you will dispossess listen to those who practice sorcery or divination. But as for you, the LORD your God has not permitted you to do so.  The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among your own brothers. You must listen to him.

The prophet like Moses, as the apostle Peter would declare many centuries later, is Jesus Christ. So what these verses boil down to is, Don’t listen to diviners or sorcerers; listen to Jesus.

In our consideration of Christianity and magic, we need to understand the relentlessly spiritual nature of the “magic arts” God so strongly condemns. The magic arts can be broadly divided into two categories: divination and sorcery. Divination seeks after knowledge, and sorcery after power. In Isaiah, the prophet asks, “When men tell you to consult mediums and spiritists, who whisper and mutter, should not a people inquire of their God?” That is the sin of divination: to turn away from God’s revelation and seek revelation from other spiritual sources – whether by directly consulting spirits or gods or by reading supernatural omens and signs. Examples of divination in the Bible include the witch at Endor, the fortune-teller who was possessed by a demon, and Nebuchadnezzar’s search for an omen. (Ezekiel 21)

If the primary end of divination is to know things, the primary purpose of sorcery, or magic, is to do things. Instances of this, too, can be found in the Bible. The Egyptian magicians replicated the plagues of blood and frogs and turned their staffs into snakes. Simon the sorcerer amazed the people of Samaria with his magic. In Ezekiel 13:20, God declared to certain false prophets, “I am against your magic charms with which you ensnare people like birds and I will tear them from your arms; I will set free the people that you ensnare like birds.” Most impressive of the biblical magicians is Balaam. It was said that those he blessed were blessed, and those he cursed were cursed, and it must have been true, because God told Israel that He had “delivered” them by not letting Balaam put a curse on them.

As with divination, the core of sorcery is engaging the spiritual world – excluding, of course, God, and so leaving only the devil and his. That is why even ineffectual sorcery and divination are dangerous, and why they are so wicked.

We must be careful not to have a superficial understanding of what the Bible means by “magic”. It is not that God hates to see people doing things beyond natural human abilities. Didn’t He, after all, enable His prophets and apostles to perform wonders and signs that had all the magicians and sorcerers beat? But magic, in the Bible, is an attempt to gain illicit power by forbidden spiritual means, it courts spiritual powers other than God, it is done not only in defiance but also rejection of God, and it is, quite literally, anathema – eternally condemned.

But magic, in our culture, is an entirely different animal; people don’t mean by it what the Bible does. Very often “magic”, in popular usage, is anything wonderful or extraordinary; hence you will read cheerful news reports about a politician or movie star or athlete doing his magic. Our society has even given the name magic to sleight-of-hand tricks. In our culture at large, the word magic has become divorced from any supernatural meaning.

When it comes to magic in fiction, there is no single, all-encompassing definition. Different things are called magic, even within the same work. Magic, in the biblical sense, can and does appear in fantasy, though this is not inherently bad. (What is inherently bad is presenting biblical magic as positive or even neutral – and, I would contend, including real-life occultic practices in such detail as to be Occult 101.)

But I think that most mainstream fantasy uses magic in the Disney sense. Remember what they said about Elsa’s powers in Frozen, that she was born with them? That is what magic usually is, and it pinpoints the crucial difference between Disney magic and Bible magic. In the Bible, no one is born with magic, because the origin of such powers is always spiritual, never natural. In Disney and many other works, magic is not spiritual; it is an inborn ability, a natural ability. And any natural ability is a God-given ability.

Such fantasy does not imagine a world where it is all right for humans or anyone else to engage spirits and manipulate their power. It imagines a world where humans or whole other races (called variously fairies, elves, wizards, etc.) are born with abilities that would appear in our world supernatural, but which they came by naturally, and so honestly. This is not the magic the Bible condemns; it’s a different thing under the same name.

So when you’re dealing with the Christian problem with magic, the solution is to truly understand magic in the biblical sense and magic in the fantasy sense. Don’t lecture concerned Christians about imagination and culture and Art; that’s like telling someone worried about the chimney catching fire that the fireplace is really a wonderful addition to the room. Some Christians believe, from warnings and stories in the Bible, that the presentation of magic in fantasy is wrong. Starting with the Bible, prove otherwise.

In an article I posted here in October, Marital Chaos, I discussed the issue of homosexual marriages after a Supreme Court ruling that refused to repeal the allowance of same-sex marriages in some states. In the comments, the Biblical exposition of Matthew Vines was suggested as providing a basis for being a Christian and a practicing homosexual. I had seen his presentation before and saw some holes he had in his arguments. The comment prompted me to flesh out my problems with his exposition of those Bible verses.

Due to the length of it, I’ve posted the full article on my blog. Here, I’m posting an excerpt of the introduction and the critique of his interpretation of the verses in Romans. A link is at the end in case you wish to read the whole article.

As such topics like these make their way into the Christian fiction landscape, we need the discussion on how to discern statements like those that Matthew Vines’ makes,  and sharpen our iron.

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A Critique of Matthew Vines’ Biblical Views on Homosexuality

Yale historian John Boswell considers the icon of Sts. Sergius and Bacchus to be an example of an early Christian same-sex union reflective of tolerant early Christian attitudes toward homosexuality based on this icon depicting what some claim is a religious wedding with Jesus as best man and still surviving writings.

Matthew Vines is a practicing homosexual Christian. For many Christians, labeling him as such immediately raises eyebrows. As he concedes, the traditional understanding of homosexual behavior labels it a sin. By all rights, an honest Christian would not willfully live in sin.

Mr. Vines took a two-year break from college to prove scripturally that a gay Christian could practice a loving and monogamous homosexual relationship without sinning. He addresses six biblical passages most often used to prove homosexual behavior is a sin, showing how traditional interpretations have missed the mark. By dismissing them, he hopes to show that homosexuality itself is not intrinsically sinful, though its abuse, like heterosexual desires, may be sinful.

His presentation, distilling his two years of research, can be found on YouTube or you can read the transcript. The video is over an hour long, so get comfy and some snacks if you go that route. He’s also written a book on the topic, which I have not read.

I’m sure Matthew is a sincere Christian. None of what follows questions his relationship with God. I am not his judge. But his exegesis of the passages he focuses on is flawed on several points, causing him to fail in his goal to present homosexuality as not sinful according to the Bible.

I should note that my critique of Mr. Vines’ exegesis and conclusions from the Bible are not a basis for social or legal disrespect against those with homosexual leanings or behaviors. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. That leaves Jesus who can, and He has a history of forgiveness, not throwing stones.

The motivation for this critique, however, is to ensure we get the proper diagnosis so that the correct remedy for our healing can be applied. If a patient has cancer, it harms the patient for the doctor to argue that they don’t have a disease, delaying treatment that could save their life.

If any homosexual behavior is sinful, as traditionally understood, it is so because it corrupts our created nature and infects us with death. To misdiagnose the sinfulness of a behavior or attitude through faulty Biblical exegesis bears serious eternal consequences.

I would hope Mr. Vines would agree we don’t want to fall into the trap of justifying sin so we can satisfy our own desires. I’m sure his intent is not to do that, but I believe, based on the following, that is the practical outcome of his presentation.

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Romans 1:26-27

Mr. Vines considers these verses to have the greatest weight, being it is in the New Testament and talks about same-sex relationships for both men and women.

Before we get into his defense, we’ll quote the verses so we’re all on the same page.

For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: And likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompence of their error which was meet.

Mr. Vines examines the context of idolatry in which this discussion takes place, and how these verses expand upon that concept by exchanging the real for a replica of the real. The sin listed above takes what is natural (real) and replaces it with what is unnatural (not real). All well and good to this point.

Then to show these verses don’t condemn homosexual sex in total, he uses two arguments. First, he points to a specific parallel between the idolatry argument and what he considers the sin Paul is referring to in these verses. Mr. Vines suggest that for these verses to work within the exchange concept Paul is using, the people referred to had to be heterosexual. If they are homosexual, they would not be making an exchange.

But then you have that pesky word “natural” and “unnatural.” The traditional understanding has always been that man by nature is heterosexual, and so homosexual desire is unnatural, that is, against nature. That is still an exchange and fits the context of Paul’s idolatry argument. Human nature as God designed it is being exchanged for one that violates that design. Paul’s context doesn’t exclude the traditional interpretation.

So this means he needs to understand Paul’s use of the word ‘natural” in a way that supports his view: that a homosexual person’s nature is to be homosexual, not heterosexual. God created gay people that way, and so is their natural state. Then points back to the concept noted above, that there is a difference between lust which Paul is referring to here and a loving, consensual, monogamous homosexual relationship that, he proposes, Paul is not talking about.

How does he do this?

But before we leave this passage, we also need to consider how Paul himself uses these terms in his other letters and how the terms “natural” and “unnatural” were commonly applied to sexual behavior in his day.

He then proceeds to talk about one verse that illustrates this difference: 1 Corinthians 11:13-15:

Judge in yourselves: is it comely that a woman pray unto God uncovered? Doth not even nature itself teach you, that, if a man have long hair, it is a shame unto him? But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.

He points out Paul’s use of nature here does not mean the nature of something, but refers to the customs of the time, as this is often referred to in these verses, and is why today it is not a big deal for women to have short hair or men long hair. Therefore we should be interpreting nature in Romans 1 to be speaking not about created human nature in general, but about what is considered natural for a specific person in a specific time and culture.

But hold on a minute. We’re making some assumptions here. I don’t fault him, for it is a common understanding of these verses that hair length is a cultural issue back in Paul’s day that doesn’t apply to us. Or does it?

If true, why are Biblical men often depicted with long hair? Even in Orthodox icons dating back to the early centuries of Christianity, many of them show men saints that according to my grandparents, look like the hippies in the 1960s. Why have monastics since the earliest days reflected the Old Testament Nazarite vow of not cutting any hair, and have been considered holy for it, not disgraced?

If we take nature here to really mean the nature of men and women, his statement makes perfect sense. He’s not making a statement about appropriate hair length in Roman culture, he’s pointing out that by nature, women’s hair grows longer than men’s. They wear it as a crown of glory. Paul doesn’t give us a measurement of short and long. His description is relative of men and women in general. If the hair is not cut, women’s hair by nature will grow longer than a man’s.

But why did Mr. Vines pick this one verse among several? Because all the others use the word ‘nature” to speak of the nature of something, not culture, and so wouldn’t support his argument. I’ll select three out of the list to prove my point.

For if God spared not the natural branches, take heed lest he also spare not thee. (Rom 11:21)

We who are Jews by nature, and not sinners of the Gentiles . . . (Gal 2:15)

Howbeit then, when ye knew not God, ye did service unto them which by nature are no gods. (Gal 4:8)

The natural branches of a tree are the ones that grow on it. A natural Jew is born as one, not added in. Idols are not a god by their nature, which is only wood and stone.

It is clear Paul’s use of nature refers to what is naturally derived from it. So, it is natural for a woman’s hair to grow longer than a man’s if not cut. It is natural in how God created man to be heterosexual. This coincides with our discussion earlier on marriage.

To interpret natural as Mr. Vines does, we’d have to ignore how Paul uses it in nearly every other verse. It can’t refer to the customs of the time, and even in the 1 Corinthian passage, it is not a given it refers to cultural customs there either.

In effect, Mr. Vines, motivated to justify homosexual sex in Scripture, fails to see key problems in his exegesis of this most important passage. By assuming the premise that the traditional interpretation must be wrong, he fails to address it on its own terms and instead, seeks loopholes to justify his position.

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Read the full critique on R. L. Copple’s blog

In 2008 Professor Farah Mendelsohn published Rhetorics Of Fantasy, a scholarly analysis of fantasy that classifies stories based on the relationship of the protagonist to the fantasy elements. From the reviews I’ve read, I think the breakdown of fantasy into four overarching types may have merit.

The categories are Portal-Quest, Immersive, Intrusive, and Liminal. The first three seem to be the most common. Here’s a brief description of each as I understand it.

Portal-Quest Fantasy. This one may be the easiest to understand based on it’s name. The protagonist enters into a fantasy world through a one-way portal, sets things right in that place, and returns to the real world.

The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe is a classic example of a Portal-Quest Fantasy. But so is Lord Of The Rings. Though there isn’t a portal to the real world, there is still this sense of leaving a known world (the Shire) and traveling to unknown places. Certainly the trilogy is a classic quest fantasy.

Another that could be classified as a Portal-Quest Fantsay is the series that influenced me to become a fantasy writer—Stephen Donaldson’s The Chronicles Of Thomas Covenant The Unbeliever.

Immersive Fantasy. Stories that start out and take place entirely in a fantasy world are Immersive Fantasy. I think of Karen Hancock’s Guardian-King series as an example of this type of fantasy.

Interestingly, The Lord Of The Rings also could be slotted into this category as well, indicating that there may be overlaps with these categories. Others that come to mind would be Jill Williamson’s Blood Of Kings series, Patrick Carr’s The Staff & The Sword trilogy, and Anne Elisabeth Stengl’s Tales Of Goldstone Wood series.

As I think about it, I guess dystopian and post-apocalyptic fantasy would have to be considered immersive. While the fantasy world is supposedly the real world, the futuristic aspect creates an other world setting. Novels of this type include The Hunger Games, Divergent, Jill Williamson’s Safe Lands trilogy, and Nadine Brandes’s A Time To Die.

Intrusive Fantasy. Stories that fit into this classification bring the fantasy elements into the real world. C. S. Lewis’s The Magician’s Nephew comes to mind as an example of Intrusive Fantasy though it retains Portal Fantasy aspects as well—another indication that there may overlap with the categories.

Some people call this type the opposite of Portal-Quest Fantasy. Stories like Twilight and Merrie Destefano’s Fathom (in which Selkies exist) would also seem to fall into this group.

Harry Potter would best be classified as Intrusive Fantasy, I believe, though there is an element of Immersive Fantasy, too. The interesting thing about Rowling’s work is that the protagonist is part of the fantastical intrusion, whereas most other stories in this category have a protagonist from the real world who experiences the intrusion of magic or magical beings.

Liminal Fantasy. I don’t have a strong grasp of what these stories are like. One blogger described them like this: “Like the intrusive fantasy, the liminal fantasy is set in our world, but there the fantastic elements are fleeting, barely glimpsed.” One Amazon reviewer defined them this way: “This is the most unusual fantasy, and the smallest category, the one where the fantastic is never fully revealed but always around the next corner or just out of sight.”

Apparently in this category, the fantastical is a known and accepted part of the world, not a shocking anomaly. I can’t think of a title I’ve read that would fit this category. How about you? If you’ve read this type of fantasy, please share titles to help me understand this category better.

So I’m curious. Which of these types of fantasy do you prefer? Below is a poll to show us what the Spec Faith readership likes best. Even if you don’t identify yourself as a fantasy fan but you’ve read some fantasy, feel free to participate. Then in the comments, tell us what makes you like one type more than another.

What type of fantasy do you prefer?

Every writer’s story has its theology. It may or may not be an intentional theology, yet it is there, inevitably. As a world is built, so are its beliefs. For a Christian, reading fantasy is not simply about reading a good story; it’s about discovering the arc of belief the story tells and discerning its validities and downfalls. To add to our enjoyment of a good story, we have the excitement of holding it up transparently before the Story of God and finding its parallels and tangents.

For a person who loves a character-driven story, this is never so much fun as when looking at the heroes of the story. How do our popular heroes reflect our collective theology? How do some authors break from that homogeny to portray heroes who do not represent our cultural concepts? I especially love how Tolkien unabashedly relies on his belief system to create his concept of a hero.

In The Hobbit, we’re faced with the most unlikely of heroes. Conventional belief would point toward Thorin as the story’s champion. (Certainly Peter Jackson seems to secretly think so.) He is the one with royal heritage. He has the skill, the swagger, and the following to secure his spot. But ultimately he fails, and it’s the little guy who whines about pocket handkerchiefs and drizzle who gets the title credit.

Similarly, though there are numerous heroic characters in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, one “fat hobbit” stands out as Tolkien’s professed hero: Sam, the gardener who knows he will be unsung in the future tales, the one who is scarcely noticed between the time Gandalf pulls him into the story and his return to the Shire. Of all four hobbits, Sam is the least likely to carry the hero’s title. He is certainly the most uncomfortable about it.

These choices don’t simply make for an interesting read with unexpected twists. They say something deeply meaningful about Tolkien’s theology. They tell us that Tolkien favors the same kind of hero God does.

In his quest to find Israel’s next king (hero), Samuel learns God’s methods:

But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16.7, NIV)

In choosing Gideon to lead Israel’s army, God knew quite well that he was choosing “the least in my entire family,” and that said family was “the weakest in the whole tribe.” Yet he still calls Gideon “mighty warrior” and tells him he’s intended to be a hero.

God also chooses a frightened young girl to be the Messiah’s own mother.

Tolkien has a firm grasp on the divine definition of hero, and he wields it deftly and unashamedly.

Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. (1Corinthians 1.25-29)

This is completely backward from the philosophy that brings us heroes like Katniss Everdeen and Thor. They come prepackaged for their deeds. Not necessarily willing, but ready. Like Thorin, they have the skills and the guts. Where comic book authors and modern writers with “modern” theology handpick the capable, Tolkien would have chosen the timid little sister or the real Clark Kent to achieve the impossible.

The choice seems quaint, even naïve to some decades later. Yet that choice lies deep in his theology, not simply his story-telling prowess. It’s the choice that allowed, rejoiced in, Merry and Eowyn’s pivotal victory on Pelennor. The two “excess baggage” characters save everything. It’s the same theology C. S. Lewis shared that chose Lucy Pevinsie to save Narnia.

Why is this such an appealing theology that it has remained popular while other fantasy works have dwindled? Yes, partly because Tolkien is a master. Also, because readers can see themselves, and seeing themselves in the everyman heroes, have hope for their own ability to act heroically. The hero who is chosen not because he or she is proficient but because he or she is willing—offers hope for our own possibilities.

Where is the wise person? Where is the teacher of the law? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength.” (1 Corinthians 1.19-20)

Every story tells a tale of what its author believes. What we believe about our heroes shapes how we look for them, and what we ultimately find. Judging by the plethora of movies favoring words like Avengers, Guardians, and Justice, we are a culture seeking heroes. In a post-Christian, hyper-sold, cynical culture, we look for them in supernatural, super-powered ways, because our ability to believe in human heroes has suffered nearly-mortal assault.

The methods Tolkien, and Lewis, used decades ago reflect a different belief—one we could use to recapture faith in our world.

Jill’s love for hobbits and elves comes from her time as a literature teacher and as a lifelong reader of great stories. She also loves an epic challenge and a chance for grace wherever they exist. Jill is Pastor of Discipleship at Resolution Church in Illinois. She is the author of the young adult devotional Hobbits, You, and the Spiritual World.

Learn more about Jill at her website, blog, Facebook, Twitter, and Google+.

The last time I read this chapter it broke my heart a little bit.

Maybe I’d forgotten how sad the ending of The Hobbit is. Maybe I myself had invested into the popular myth that unlike The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien’s first published Middle-earth tale is a simple children’s story — the myth that led one Christian radio host upon seeing the first film to remark that he didn’t remember the book being that “dark.”

Oh, it’s dark. Especially when contrasted with the first two-thirds of the book.

In chapter 16, Bilbo Baggins must deal with the fact that Thorin, the would-be returning king, has turned out to be a draconian despot. Legends promised the good king would restore harmony between Dwarves, Men, and Elves, sharing the Mountain’s wealth with all (in modern terms, promoting dynamic economic growth in the whole region). Instead Thorin becomes the worst sort of capitalist, hoarding his gold and abusing his authority.

Smaug is dead at the bottom of the lake. But the dragon is back, and he brings war.

Bilbo is forced to sneak out of Thorin’s stronghold under the Lonely Mountain. The titular Hobbit brings the one object the king wants most — the legendary Arkenstone — to the gathered Elves and displaced Men outside the Mountain. And when Thorin finds out, he is not happy. His response to Bilbo is what broke my heart a little. I expect to cry in the film.

Yes, when it’s battle-time Thorin finally comes around, though in a more “behind the scenes” way that I expect the film version will explore further. But this makes me long all the more for a truly good king, not only in reality but in Middle-earth.

When you read the Gospels, recall this: Jesus is a better savior than Noah, Moses, or David. And when you read The Lord of the Rings, recall this: Aragorn is a better king than Thorin.

Chapter 17: The Clouds Burst

1. If you had not read this before, would you have hoped for a heartfelt reconciliation when Bard and his group come back and offer the Arkenstone? Or did you feel this could only make more damage (especially with a chapter title like “The Clouds Burst”?).
2. “You miserable hobbit! You undersized — burglar!” … [Thorin] shook poor Bilbo like a rabbit. (page 261) After they got along so well, how does this strike you? (Also: rabbit?)
3. “Here is Gandalf! … If you don’t like my Burglar, please don’t damage him.” (page 261) For perhaps one last time, it seems, Gandalf bails out Bilbo. Do you think Thorin would have really thrown Bilbo to the rocks? Why do you think the author went so far as this for the noble Dwarf who is overall still a hero in the story? Should a heroic character do this?
4. … So strong was the bewilderment of the treasure upon [Thorin], he was pondering whether by the help of Dain he might not recapture the Arkenstone and withhold the share of the reward. (page 262) Is the treasure at “fault” for his sin, or his response to it?
5. Now the Elvenking rejects warring for gold, and instead hopes for reconciliation. After his earlier treatment of the Dwarves and Bilbo, what might be causing this change?
6. Just as the others-versus-Dwarves battle starts, dark clouds arrive. Did you expect that?
7. Might you wish Tolkien had not skipped over the counsel between Gandalf, Bard, the Elves, and Dain (but without Thorin and his company of Dwarves)? What do you think that scene would have been like? (And do you believe the film version will show it?)
8. Some get pumped for a sports games. How do you feel about a righteous fiction battle?
9. Aha! At the last Thorin comes around and joins the (mostly) good armies. But why didn’t the author tell us what Thorin’s reaction was to the goblin invasion, the counsel with the newcomer Dain, and why Thorin had refrained from the battle until now?
10. Why does the story have Bilbo “vanish,” at first quite literally? (Some also accused the first Hobbit film of ignoring Bilbo). Would you have preferred following Bilbo more?
11. Bilbo says he wishes that Smaug had kept the treasure. (page 271) Do you agree?

This chapter title alone makes The Hobbit a Christian book, because clearly Tolkien was thinking of Paul’s words about how Jesus would come as a thief in the night (1 Thess. 5:2).

Just kidding. Thanks to the good ol’ KJV, phrases like this also float about popular culture. But it’s fun to realize that the Bible has influenced culture so much that things like this occur by accident. That’s very true for The Hobbit, despite the misperception that J.R.R. Tolkien’s first Middle-earth tale is a simple children’s story.

But you will not find in The Hobbit any obvious Christ-figure, or hero’s journey, or even battles between good and evil. Only the dragon Smaug and the hordes of orcs are clearly evil. Once he’s gone, the story delves deep into the complex political relationships between Men, Elves, and Dwarves, to an extent not even seen in The Lord of the Rings.

And in the middle is one Hobbit whose share in the golden victory has been tarnished.

What’s a good Hobbit to do when the newly returned king becomes a replacement dragon? What would you do when you’re bound by contract to a trusted friend who goes mad?

Chapter 16: A Thief in the Night

1. This is the book’s shortest chapter. Do you think Tolkien meant something in making this chapter longer — perhaps to emphasize Bilbo’s decision to help the besiegers?
2. In this short chapter, Bilbo makes many surprising and even controversial choices. What of his first choice to hide the Arkenstone from Thorin: right, wrong, or mixed?
3. What do you make of Bilbo’s choice to sneak away from his Dwarf companions, to whom he has shown loyalty and who have now proven loyalty to him? What about Bilbo’s deception of Bombur, a good-natured Dwarf who hadn’t done him any harm?
4. Things get worse: Bilbo has signed a contract with Thorin. So could we say that Bilbo is now breaking that contract? What of Thorin’s right by widely acknowledged law to be King Under the Mountain? Isn’t Bilbo choosing to violate the will of that king who has now reclaimed his kingdom? Is Tolkien, the author, supporting a notion that it’s okay to disobey authorities over you? Is he endorsing relativistic morality in this whole ordeal?
5. The vital question is this: How do we think Biblically about rebel people and characters?
6. (Similar issues.) In fiction: Luke Skywalker and others rebels from Star Wars fight the evil Empire. Heroes from the Avatar: The Last Airbender animated series rebel against Fire Nation leaders (who are more like dictators). Even Christians in the Left Behind series fight the Antichrist. In nonfiction: Peter and John disobey the chief priests (Acts 4: 19-20); U.S. colonists fought King George and British rulers; and former members of a church sue that church in court because they say the church ignored ongoing abuse.
7. Challenge: what makes “rebellion” right or wrong? (Hint: if it’s rebellion-for-its-own-sake, anything right about it is despite the rebellion, not because of it. If it’s “rebellion” based on obedience to higher authority, such as God’s Law or civil law, it is Biblical.)
8. Based on this, how should we — including younger readers — view earthly authorities and God’s authority in reality? How should we view them in stories such as The Hobbit?
9. Bilbo gives the Arkenstone to Thorin’s enemies as a bargaining tool. Would you have done this, or would you have stood with Thorin to try persuading him, or tried to find another way out of this apparent conundrum? Could Bilbo have made a “pure” decision?

Author Mike Duran posted an essay titled, “The Problem with Message Driven Fiction.” As usual, his post generated a good bit of comments. One of the themes arising in the comments is what makes a story “preachy.” As one commenter put it, no one says they want their story to be preachy. Yet, we find a lot of Christian fiction that is preachy. So it must be a more poplar goal than the commenters were willing to admit.

Therefore, for those authors who do want to write preachy Christian fiction, I thought it would be a great service to list the seven best ways to accomplish that worthy task. After all, without a preacher, how will they hear? So here they are in reverse order.

Seven

Ensure you have some perfect Christian characters. All by itself, this does not guarantee preachiness, but without it, you have no one to deliver all those poignant lines of spiritual wisdom. And what is a good Christian story without perfect Christians in them to inspire us to such perfection? Someone needs to be the preacher.

Six

Also ensure you have characters that not only need salvation, but will get it by the end of the story. Preferably in an altar call after hearing a sermon, because they by chance stumbled upon a church and decided for the first time in their life to go in because a street preacher called out a Bible verse and it spoke to him or her. Again, doesn’t ensure preachiness, but without it, the opportunity for preaching gets scarce.

Five

Make sure the characters end up in a church service at some point in the story. What is more natural to preach to the reader than for your character to end up in a service and listen to a sermon that speaks to them? If the church factors into your story, great! Take advantage of that to get a salvation sermon in. If not? I’m sure you can find somewhere to tack that on.

Four

Sprinkle plenty of Bible verses throughout the story. Especially if you have that perfect Christian pastor or friend who can expound on the meaning in those verses, just in case it isn’t clear enough by itself. After all, most Christians don’t go around all day quoting Bible verses, and may not know what they really mean.

Three

Don’t just show, tell. Don’t trust your reader to be smart enough to get what you are attempting to convey in the character’s actions and dialog. Make sure one of the characters or the narrator takes some time to fully explain what the reader should understand from what just happened. So if someone rushes into a burning building and saves an baby from the inferno, don’t forget to tell the reader how that selfless act illustrates how far God’s grace has brought them from the sinner they used to be.

Two

Make sure the plot offers plenty of chances for preaching, either by the perfect Christian or a pastor/evangelist. Remember, plot is to service the message, and that requires getting your characters into situations or discussions where they learn the truth of the Gospel message and other Christian values. Good places to make sure your characters go to are the jail, a bar (but make him/her not like it), the hospital because of some illness or wreck, or a church (see point five above).

One

And the number one way to ensure your fictional stories are preachy: say every truth you wish to convey at least three times. Every sermon has three point, and the Trinity is three persons. The Bible did it and look how popular it is. The formula is tell, show, and tell.

Do you have other methods to ensure preachiness? Don’t keep them hidden under a bushel, do tell.

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This article originally appeared on R. L. Copple’s blog, August, 2011.

I haven’t read the Hunger Games books and missed the first movie, but I dipped my toes into Suzanne Collins’s franchise when I saw Catching Fire. I liked it well enough to want to see Mockingjay, Part 1. Now I’m a fan, eager to see Part 2 and making plans to read the books.

My new-found excitement for Katniss and friends comes with the full knowledge that a number of writers consider the books to be poorly written. If that’s true, the movies, I’d say, are different. I think Mockingjay, Part 1 does a good job expanding the Hunger Game story.

The focus on beating out competitors in a life and death struggle shifted at the end of Catching Fire to resistance to the corrupt government that demanded the games and the leader who embodied the system. Mockingjay, Part 1 advances the story along these lines.

The Story.
Katniss Everdeen brought down the Hunger Games and ignited resistance, but the government has superior weapons and technology; President Snow is committed to crushing the opposition once for all; and Peeta, the “victor” Katniss has fallen in love with, is a pawn in government hands, urging surrender and cooperation.

In the face of such hopelessness and pressure, the resistance leaders look to Katniss to rally people throughout the country to their cause. Without intending to, she has become the face of opposition to the corrupt government. If she urges people to fight, though it cost them their lives, they will fight.

From the beginning, however, Katniss got involved in the Games and the resulting events simply because she wanted to protect those she loves. But as her experiences bring her into contact with more and more people, and as she sees how they suffer under the tyrannical treatment of the corrupt leaders, she takes up the mantle as the Mockingjay—the symbol of resistance.

Strengths.
By far the greatest strength of the movie is the character of Katniss. She has inner strength but not a hero complex. She isn’t interested in exerting power over people. Rather she wants to protect those she loves, starting with her sister, her mother, the boy she loves, and her friends. But her circle is ever-expanding, which influences what she decides to do.

In short, Katniss is likeable and well-motivated. And now she has a greater purpose, though her desire to save Peeta still takes precedence over much else.

There are other characters to love as well—Katniss’s childhood friend Gale and her sister Prim for example. But clearly Katniss is the driving force in the story.

The movie also gives a person a lot to think about. One theme relates to mass market media. As the Games were televised and each competitor required to cater to the audience in order to gain necessary support, the Resistance now requires the same kind of audience manipulation. Hence, delivering lines with believable feeling is as important, if not more so, than truth.

The emphasis is on perception. When Peeta makes his appearance on the Capital-controlled television, urging Katniss and the other revolutionaries to put down their arms because they’re being manipulated to oppose President Snow, it’s clear there’s a certain level of truth to what he says. So whose version of the truth is the right one?

The question seems frighteningly relevant in light of the recent events in Ferguson, Missouri.

Weaknesses.
My main complaint about Mockingjay, Part 1 is the stylistic device used to open the movie. Opting for an in medias res approach, the director/screenplay writer show Katniss in a situation that clearly has her traumatized, but the audience has no way of knowing where she is, why she’s upset, who is calling her, and why she wants to be alone—in other words, in confusion.

This technique is soon followed by a jump cut that transports Katniss from the rubble of District 12 to the bunkers of District 13 without a word of explanation or preparation that this move is about to happen. And we’re still not done.

This device leads to another disorienting one in which Peeta is with Katniss . . . except he isn’t. As it turns out, rather than being a second jump cut, which would seem to be the most logical explanation, this event turns out to be a dream.

With these three “artsy” devices following one after the other, I experienced disorientation and outright confusion in the beginning of the movie, but once it settled down to a more approachable format, the story took over and moved along at a crisp pace.

After having read a review or two, I wonder now if this disorientation and confusion wasn’t intentional—a device to set up a key element in Part 2. But I’ll need to wait to make that assessment. As it stands, I found the opening of Mockingjay, Part 1 to be annoying and confusing.

There were points when I thought the rebels were making a mistake to keep Katniss hiding away in the bunker instead of out leading forays against the Capital. I’ve since learned that some reviewers see this as a fault of the story, not the mistake of the resistance leaders. Either way, Katniss was rendered somewhat passive—not something a writer wants to do when the story hangs so clearly on the reader/audience response to the protagonist.

Recommendation.
I thoroughly enjoyed Mockingjay, Part 1 as a thought-provoking piece of dystopian fiction.

I don’t see any elements I’d say parallel Christian thought. Katniss wants to fight those who are hurting the people she loves. She wants to help those who are fighting their common enemy. She has no greater aim, no desire for personal power, but also no grandiose desire to “fix” society. She simply wants to rescue those she loves and stop those she hates. She’s not a complicated person, at least in this installment of the Hunger Games franchise.

The movie is certainly provocative, particularly when it comes to how mass media massages the truth to dramatize what those behind the lenses want people to believe. If nothing else, viewers of this movie should look a little more skeptically at their evening news from now on—and I have to believe that’s a good thing.

Latest fantasy release by Scott Appleton

Contemporary fantasy is swamped by material that runs completely adverse to traditional family values. This is a huge concern for parents and teachers. Young readers, especially, are impressionable to strange philosophies because they have not learned discernment.

Some of these “sensitive” subjects include: violence, magic, atheism, and sexuality. All of which can be complicated to approach in Christian literature.

Family-friendly literature does not need to shy away from these subjects. I think of how the Bible contains stories of everything from slashing open a guy’s belly to God’s judgment on homosexuality. These topics need to be dealt with, but they must not be glorified.

Readers must be shown sin and its consequences. They must live rejection so that they are willing to stand alone for what they know to be true. They must watch a character fall so that they can learn the consequence of living in sin. They must watch the actions of the characters so that they can see the ultimate rewards and penalties.

Do not shy from sensitive subjects. Simply show them in the light of holiness so that the reader aspires to a higher standard. As Christian writers we have a stronger foundation to contrast good and evil in fiction. We don’t just know what a character should and should not do. We know the reason they should and should not do it. We know the why because we know the ultimate Authority behind the why.

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Scott Appleton is a multi-published fantasy author with AMG Publishing (The Sword of the Dragon series) and now a freelance fiction writer whose works focus on reaching family-focused readers. He and his wife Kelley have three wonderfully creative children and they love to travel for his book signing events. Connect with Scott on Facebook and Twitter. Follow his writing journey and download his free ebook, The Writer’s Scrapbook, on his website.