The top box office movies this past weekend were Gone Girl and Annabelle. Left Behind came in a distant sixth.

Gone Girl, in the number one spot, is an adaptation from the novel by the same title. The story is a thriller/mystery about a wife who goes missing. The thing I found most interesting as I looked for reactions and reviews is that readers of the book said they didn’t like any of the characters. Oh, they loved the story and at first they felt sorry for the husband, but by the end, they didn’t like anyone.

Movie critics had things like this to say: “Fincher [the author and the screenwriter] has designed a portrait of marriage as psychological warfare where ceasefires masquerade as happiness” (Laura Clifford, Reeling Reviews).

Annabelle, a supernatural horror spinoff of The Conjuring, may have had characters that were likeable, but in the end the point of the movie, as stated by Lorraine Warren, co-owner of the museum which houses the real Annabelle doll, is this: “Evil is real, and while we can contain it, we can never get rid of it.”

Left Behind, the third new release that finished in the top ten in the weekend box office numbers, is an apocalyptic thriller. This story depicts, through the perspective of three main characters, the effects on society of the (pre-tribulation) rapture—the removal of Christ’s Church from earth when believers meet Jesus in the air prior to the tribulation prophesied in Scripture.

Critical acclaim seems to be all in the Gone Girls court which received an 87% fresh score from Rotten Tomatoes. In contrast, Annabelle came in with a score of 32%, and Left Behind, an embarrassing 2%. On the other hand, the latter fared better in the audience score than did Annabel (60% liked it compared to 51%), though Gone Girl bested them both by a wide margin (92% of the audience liked it).

As an aside, what critics say about a book or movie isn’t always reflective of the quality. One Left Behind critic, for example, found the movie problematic because it was “Bargain-basement Evangelical stuff” with a devout Muslim left behind, which means it “belongs in a church basement, not a movie theater.” Another reviewer who identifies himself as a Christian didn’t like the movie at all but didn’t give much of an explanation. He thought the special effects were bad (it is low budget), and it really bugged him that the Nicholas Cage character, Rayford Steele, didn’t carry a flight bag. Or that the phones stopped working right away. But mostly that no one knew why there were disappearances—after all, the idea of the rapture is well known (now!)

But my point here is not to give a rah-rah plug for Left Behind. After all, I haven’t seen the movie and only read the beginning of the first book. It may be as bad as the critics say.

What I find fascinating about these three movies is the theme that runs through them—unlikeable characters depicting marriage as psychological warfare; evil is real and we can’t get rid of it; and “good” removed leaves evil to fend for—and against—itself.

I think it’s safe to say, these are not feel-good movies. No happy endings here. Only more doom or disaster waiting around the corner.

I suppose, in part, it’s the job of October movies to generate this kind of “hold your breath and duck” sensation. Nothing is safe. A “good” marriage might be the greatest battleground. Even the most innocent-appearing doll may be your worst nightmare. A routine trans-Atlantic flight can turn into a disaster of epic proportions.

In all three the characters seem to share a victim-perpetrator mixture. They suffer, but at least in part, their suffering is self-induced though inflicted from the outside.

These kinds of movies don’t seem to fit what perhaps a majority of people say they believe—that humankind is evolving to a place that is better. In other words, there seems to be a divide between what the latest stories have to say about life and what the majority of people contend they believe.

In contrast, the Star Trek franchise showed what they believed. The Federation had embraced peace. Standing armies were no longer needed. Star ships went on scientific explorations, not military conquests. No one made a power grab unless controlled in some way by an alien species. All sentient life was respected (even that which was as small as a grain of sand). In the end, the great antagonist, the Borg, proved to be a form of technology gone awry, assimilating everything in their [its?] path.

The three new movies would seem to be more in touch with reality than stories like the various Star Trek threads—evil is here to stay and evil extends right into the heart of those closest to us, even into our own hearts.

Only Left Behind, however, is true to its worldview. Essentially, as I understand it, the story proposes what the world would look like if Christ removed all the Christians—a premise consistent with believing that there are saved and there are lost, that knowing Christ is the dividing line.

So what, I wonder is the driving force behind movies like Gone Girl and Annabelle and even Left Behind?

In his post today at Decompose, author Mike Duran looks at dystopian fiction asking essentially the same question about that popular genre. He concludes that

The genre of dystopian books and films reinforces a vital biblical theme — Man is broken. No amount of moral or technological “tweaks” can correct the malfunction that is Us.

In a way, our embrace of dystopia is both a rejection of utopia and the notion of inherent human goodness. History and personal experience have shown us, over and over again, that when left to his devices Man fails. No amount of drugs, diplomacy, technology, education, or entertainment can prevent collapse, both internal and external. Dystopia is an admission of depravity. We are the anti-Midas: Everything we touch rots. And the bigger our contribution, the more pervasive the decomposition. (Emphases in the original).

A vital Biblical theme, yes, but not one that’s consistent with the contemporary worldview which seems to favor educating and legislating in order to find utopia.

And yet, our stories aren’t about finding utopia. They’re about trying to survive or escape the hellish dystopian society that seems inevitable. So I’m wondering why the worldview we espouse as a society doesn’t measure up with the one we show in our stories.

But, of course, these three new movies may not be trending except for the fact that they are good for October and fall scariness. However I tend to agree with Mike Duran.

I think, despite our protestations to the contrary, most people recognize the downward spiral we’re on, but simply don’t want to admit it. We don’t want to say we believe the world is getting more corrupt. We want to believe that if we’re just more tolerant, prejudice will go away; or if we reduce our human footprint, we can fix climate change; or if we treat other peoples with respect, we can bring an end to war. We want to believe we are God, with all His capacity to fix the mess we’re in.

But despite our stated beliefs, our stories seem to tell a different tale. And I find that discrepancy interesting.

Ah, memories.

One more day remains until the slightly-bigger-budget Left Behind film arrives in theaters.

My 17-year-old self would be thrilled, but my own reaction is slightly mixed.

No, I don’t want Left Behind to fail. In fact, I would much prefer the film to be a low-budget yet high-class, contemporary-fantasy exploration of a rapture¹, according to contemporary evangelical end-times beliefs. This is the exact approach taken by Left Behind director Vic Armstrong, who stunt-doubled for Christopher Reeve and Harrison Ford and is now stunt-doubling as an evangelical.² Now Armstrong is happily stunt-doubling for evangelicals, and he explained his perspective this way:

[My agent] David Gersh said, “Well, what about the religious aspect?” And I said, “What religious aspect?” […] He said, “Didn’t you find it strange when people disappeared on the plane and everything?” I said, “David, I did Starship Troopers, and I didn’t question it when great big bugs came climbing over the hill and ripped people’s heads off. That’s the world I live in!”³

That’s my perspective: Just because other evangelicals take the film so very seriously as a soul-saving campaign doesn’t mean that geeky Christians must mock Left Behind, root for the film to fail, or feel ashamed for enjoying the story. Instead we can enjoy the LB novels and perhaps even the film for what it is: fun, pulp-thriller fantasy.

I started this in part 1, so now let’s resume:

The only outline “Left Behind” novels need.

4. Action can be random but fun

The first time I heard a critique of LB’s fiction was from a friendly radio preacher named Dr. David Reagan of Lamb and Lion Ministries.

I have also found the writing style to be frustrating and therefore irritating in nature. That’s because it is based upon what I would call “chasing rabbits.” The author will develop a story about a character up to the point of climax, and then will suddenly drop the story and start developing another story line involving another character. That story line will also be brought to its focal point and then dropped for an abrupt transition to a third story line. At times, there are as many as five rabbits being chased at one time, with all the conclusions hanging in the air. Based on sales, this is obviously an appealing technique of writing to many people, but not to me.⁴

Okay, that’s true. In fact the prime LB author, Jerry B. Jenkins, admitted writing LB novels with no fiction outlines. But I’m not sure what else readers should expect. The LB series was meant to have only coauthor Dr. Tim LaHaye’s end-times charts as its basis for an otherwise loosely assembled pulp-thriller storyline.

The books are better than the movies. But the dramatic audio series might be better than the books.

But lower your standards a bit. Cease expecting an emotional journey like Les Misérables as Reagan mentioned, and you may be surprised. Again, I might be over-elevating my memory thanks to the fantastic LB Dramatic Audio series. But when the LB authors want enhanced action, they give it. Assassins has some of the best action sequences and holy-crap-from-Revelation moments—such as when two Christian pilots find their airplane besieged by invisible demonic horsemen. Then they land the plane in South Africa only to get besieged by non-invisible insurrectionists with guns. It’s an improvement from the repetitious car chases in books 3 and 4, Nicolae and Soul Harvest. Demon action > car chases, every time.

Also, people die, and die hideously and permanently. Some of we “Christian fiction should be grittier and more realistically violent” types should take note: all this was before 2005.

5. Gospel/‘preachy’ content is more natural

Critics who (rightfully and otherwise) decry forced and unnatural “come to Jesus or at least come to white middle-class evangelicalism” moments in evangelical fiction: the bestselling evangelical fiction series already had our backs, and we missed it.

There’s no way to write a straight-up fantastical interpretation of the book of Revelation and not include overtly Gospel-based content. In fact, doing otherwise would be dishonest. Imagine reading a revision of the Harry Potter series that included no charms and potions and broomsticks. Faith and belief fuel Left Behind as magic fuels the Harry Potter series.

As a potentially cantankerous Reformed-Christian, I could have a lot to say about how evangelicals venerate contemporary traditions such as altar calls, salvation professions, and testimonies with dates, times, and quantified verbiage about when you “accepted Jesus Christ.” But I cannot imagine the LB series without such simple categories of confession. If you repent and believe in Jesus Christ, you are with The Believers. If you don’t and you took the mark of the Beast, you’re with The Enemies. And if you are neither, you’re among The Undecided.

By the series’ later novels, these are official designations that head character rosters after the title pages. And bless ‘em, the authors try to be fair to The Undecided—even to the point of having Believers risk their lives for The Undecideds even if they join The Enemies. It’s a strange juxtaposition of evangelical “you’re in or out” labels (and all that this may imply) along with sincere empathy for characters who feel they don’t want to take a side.

6. Non-Christians devoured them

Yet I’m not sure it’s that many secular readers.

Perhaps that is why many non-Christian readers felt like they could enjoy the LB books, especially later volumes, and take the proselytizing in stride. Many evangelical novels try to be hipper than hip, falling all over themselves to appear non-religious — like a phony youth pastor — while speaking anyway in idiotically grinning evangelicalese. Not the LB series. Its novels effectively said: “Here’s a story based on ‘the’ Christian prophecies of the end-times along with a pulp-fantastical thrill ride. Want to join us?”

Reviews abound from non-Christians and plain atheists who enjoyed the LB series as a guilty pleasure. When I was in college I recall encountering more. And why shouldn’t they? I enjoy classic Star Trek episodes and straight-up atheist/humanist science fiction. Really, it’s interesting to see how America’s “other”-religious half lives. I hope non-Christian LB fans felt the same way — and also hope they know we’re not all believers in a “rapture.”

And as for all the grumpy Christians, like myself at times, who couldn’t stand the fact that LB was sharing our faith for us and causing others to believe that all Christians believe in “the rapture” (regrettable direct article and all)? Maybe we could have done something other than issue serious doctrinal disclaimers and write anti-LB tomes with mockeries of “end times madness.” Maybe we could have taken our own medicine about popular culture, story subversion, etc., and offered our own pulp-fantastical thrillers for a broader audience. Maybe LB critics could have done anything except be all “evangelical” in our overreactions.

Next week: exploring LB’s epic vision, cool covers, and diverse cast.

The most outstanding element of Jill Williamson’s Safe Lands Trilogy is its world-building. From the opening pages of Captives, she created two worlds, orbiting no more than a rising mountain apart and yet utterly distinct. In the Safe Lands, all is pleasure and comfort and convenience, greased by the omnipresent wonders of technology.

In little Glenrock, life is harder and the rules are stricter. On everyone is laid clear expectations of who and what they are expected to be, and they feel it when they fail. But unlike the people of the Safe Lands, the people of Glenrock had the freedom to go, and even to stay much longer.

The entire trilogy is more or less about the collision of these two societies. These dual, conflicting worlds came to remind me of the Church and the larger culture of our present day. It’s not an exact resemblance, by any stretch; the world is not as dissolute or libertine as the Safe Lands, and the Christian community is not as strict or isolated as Glenrock. But the parallels can be drawn long.

In Rebels, the last book of the trilogy, readers became acquainted with the Kindred, a separatist group within the Safe Lands that made common cause with the Glenrock exiles. Not that all the Kindred were willing in this arrangement. In fact, one woman was so unfriendly and judgmental toward outsiders of any stripe that she reminded me of Glenrock’s own leader.

The founders of Glenrock and of the Kindred had excellent reasons for what they did. The separation from the Safe Lands was necessary to save themselves and their descendants from tyranny, deception, and all kinds of grief. Nor, in their fears and suspicions, were the people of these groups entirely unjustified. But it led some of the Glenrock folk to an unnerving callousness toward outsiders, and some of the Kindred to give up a much wider world for safety.

And Rebels, like Captives, left me thinking about the Church and the world. The New Testament rings with a sense of the separation between the Church and the world. It’s present in Christ’s image of His people as a city on a hill, in Peter’s addressing us as “aliens and strangers in the world”, in Hebrews’ portrait of the heroes of faith “looking for a country of their own”. Paul commands Christians not to “conform any longer to the pattern of this world”, John instructs us not to love the world, and James goes farthest of all, warning us that friendship with the world is hatred toward God.

But as with Glenrock and the Kindred, the necessary separation can turn to isolation and a noble mission can lose its focus to a selfish, inward concentration. The Church has been called to more than self-preservation. When we make preserving ourselves – or even preserving our families or communities – our only goal, we lose sight of God’s larger purpose.

Of course, when we cease to make guarding ourselves and our communities any sort of goal, we may lose God’s purpose in another way. The Safe Lands Trilogy captures that truth, too, showing not only what happens to those who become rather too narrow in the straight way, but also to those who fail to recognize and reject the false ideas of the world.

The same tension between preserving and going forth is found in the Sermon on the Mount, where Christ commands us both to keep our saltiness and to shine our light – and of such tension, perhaps, balance is made.

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men.

“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.”

This post was written for the CSFF blog tour of Rebels, by Jill Williamson, and is cross-posted from ShannonMcDermott.com.

Today I’m offering a reprint of an article I wrote back in 2007. It first appeared as an appendix to my first published book, a novella published in November of 2007, Infinite Realities by Double-Edged Publishing. That novella was later expanded to a full novel and published as Reality’s Dawn by Splashdown Books in 2011, sans this article.

I wrote it in part to offer an explanation of why I, as a Christian, wrote a fantasy book filled with magic and mythical creatures. I thought this article dovetailed nicely with some recent thoughts here. They are still relevant today.

“Why would a Christian write speculative fiction, like fantasy? Aren’t they antithetical?”

There are two types of people who might ask that. One group is those who don’t bother with reading speculative fiction. After all, it isn’t real life, now is it? It isn’t about real issues, religious or otherwise. It’s just escapism.

If you think that, you’re thinking too surface level. The greatest works of fantasy usually touch on real life issues and problems. Consider J. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings book. It is set in a totally made-up land with magic and elves, but full of real-life events that change the way we look at one another. Whether it is the loyalty of Sam in the face of insurmountable odds and certain death, or the heroism of Aaragorn or Boromir, each in their own way says volumes about humanity in how they face life when difficult times call out the hero in us all.

The beautiful quality to fantasy, and the speculative genre in general, is the ability to highlight the real issues of our daily life when contrasted against an other-world backdrop.

Often the analogies and character relationships hit home in a striking way within that context.

The story in this book [Infinite Realities] is a good example of that very fact. How many of us struggle to find our place in life and then turn it into a means for self-fulfillment rather than a real ministry to others? I could preach on that and write great logical articles that would no doubt move some to greater zeal. But to go on that journey with Sisko, through the events he did, you experience the struggle as he deals with his own failures. It has an emotional impact that an article on the topic could rarely accomplish.

Don’t get me wrong. Non-fiction articles, both doctrinal and how-tos, have their place. I’ve written plenty of those as well. However, for me it is not a matter of either-or, but why not both? I don’t expect to never write non-fiction again. I look forward to doing so, but speculative fiction has a place in my heart and imagination. It can serve as a wonderful vehicle, through the time-honored craft of good story telling (which even Jesus used), to help us experience the truth and not merely read about it.

The other type who might ask this question is those who feel that relating Christianity to such things as “magic” and other elements of many fantasy stories, either links Christianity with that which is evil, or if taken as un-real, that Christianity is fantasy too.

Both of these fears arise from false views of reality itself.

First, the “magic” issue, which has been stirred up at the time of this writing by the release of the last “Harry Potter” book by J. K. Rowling. Many Christians perceive “magic” as evil, and in real life, what we would tend to call “magic” (not card trick types), generally is, but not for the reasons people tend to think. The problem is, this view results from a worldview divided between the secular and God. So, it becomes an “us vs. them” issue, and we should stay away from it because that is “their” domain, and we don’t want to be equated with it.

However, in the truly Christian worldview, there is no such thing as a purely secular reality. Every breath, every ability, every accomplishment is ultimately derived from God’s great bounty—even if it appears on the surface to be coming from ourselves.

Pharaoh’s magicians experienced this. They did great feats of magic. Moses matched it. Then at some point the magicians couldn’t keep up with Moses. Why? Not because they themselves could no longer do it, but because God no longer allowed them to while He did allow Moses to continue with even greater miracles.

When Jesus was accused by the Pharisees that his power came from Satan, what did He say? “Oh, wow, you’re right. This does look like satanic magic. I had better stop.” No, He said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” Meaning, if He did His “magic” from Satan but was casting out demons and healing people of diseases, Satan is a very poor strategist.

Rather, the issue for Christ was from whom the power came to do amazing and great things, and (this is the big point) our acknowledgement of that.

The sin isn’t that someone is doing something supernatural, but their attempts to attribute what properly belongs to God for themselves.

That is a constant theme throughout the Bible, from Adam and Eve wanting to “be like God” to Simon Magnus trying to buy the power from St. Peter. One of the evilest sins listed in the Bible is to blaspheme the Holy Spirit by attributing His work to someone or something else.

Our failure to recognize from whom the power comes is the sin, not the fact that it is done. Since all comes from God, for the Christian, there is no magic that is evil. Only evil people who attempt to control God’s power for their own purposes, whether that is a witch or a name-it-claim-it preacher/healer.

Therefore, on the issue of magic and fantasy, which on the surface can appear to be pagan, an attempt to apply the faulty logic of “guilty by association” derives from a view of the world where some elements are not from God and so should be avoided at all cost, even the appearance of a relationship. But this very division is not a Christian worldview.

“But are we not luring souls into Satan’s hands by blurring this distinction?”

No, because while skewing God’s reality by separating Him from part of it, you in effect fail to notice the real tactic of Satan: to take whatever it is you are doing and, like Sikso’s temptation, to make it yours and fail to acknowledge from whom it really comes. That is the distinction which must not be blurred but is when we hand part of God’s creation over as inherently evil. The result is God’s own miracles become suspect.

So, one characteristic of good Christian fantasy is the underlying reality that all comes from God, whether the characters realize that or not. If the reality is there, it maintains a Christian vision of the world, just as in our world, even pagan elements are simply perversions of God’s truth due to selfish appropriation of it.

For the same reasons, I do not follow the idea that equating made-up worlds, stories, and the like with Christianity will make Christianity seem unreal.

No more than any other reality that might appear in a fantasy story. Not everything in a fantasy story is fantasy. Only certain parts of it will be. However, most people recognize this fact and can separate what is real from what is speculative.

The real concern, I think, is that some might feel by equating amazing abilities as fantasy, that some will see Biblical miracles in the same light, or even God Himself, as fiction. They will equate them with myths in an attempt to “explain” the unexplainable.

The only problem is, a truly Christian worldview doesn’t rest in explaining the unexplainable. It is a way of life, an organic part of reality. All is from God, whether it can be explained in terms of science or not. Real Christianity is not a “God of the gaps” theory but a whole life reality.

Some people fear that equating God’s power with a wizard casting a spell will somehow make God’s power seem less real. Because, everyone knows that the wizard and his spell are fiction. But the converse is true. While the wizard and his spell are made up, the fact is God could have created and used such a creature if He so desired. What God conceives isn’t fantasy but becomes reality. What I conceive is fantasy, and I know it.

The reality is what I’m speculating could have happened. If God had chosen to, it would be the current reality now. But that is why we call it speculative fiction. It is the author’s conception of what life would be like if such and such were true. But we know it isn’t, and God is not any more lessened due to my speculating than if I said, “What if the sun blew up?” Well, one day it might. And God has done some very unexpected and amazing things through the years, both recorded in the Bible and through Christian history. Where are we going to draw the line of what is off limits to God?

I would even go so far as to say, the rejection of fantasy causes one to limit God.

By not allowing the supernatural, current day miracles and events are not seen as coming from Him but due to some explained phenomena or scientific theory. For if all comes from God, and there is no division between a reality from God and all of reality—if we don’t base what God gets on what we can’t explain—then fantasy cannot take away from God. Such views are a result of a divided worldview or purely secular worldview, not Christian.

At the root of all these issues is what one’s worldview is. For a truly Christian worldview, where God is the source of all, even if it has been perverted by evil people, fantasy cannot corrupt or lessen the reality of Christianity. Nor does it serve only as a form of escapism, but becomes a very rich commentary on our everyday life and goals as humans. For when you put those realities in an unreal world, they stand out all the more to our experience.

A good fantasy or speculative story will leave you changed. A good, Christian one will leave you changed for the better.

————

Originally published in the novella, “Infinite Realities,” by Double-Edged Publishing, November 2007. Also appeared online in Resident Aliens magazine in December of 2008.

The CSFF Blog Tour is featuring Rebels by Jill Williamson, the third book in her dystopian Safe Lands trilogy. I’ve not read a lot of books in this niche of speculative fiction, but I admit, I was thoroughly captivated.

I think one of the most important aspects of futuristic novels is to establish a believable world, so one of the first things a writer would have to consider is, What might the world look like a hundred years from now, or two hundred, or five hundred?

I know some people don’t want to read futuristic stories—science fiction or various types of fantasy set in the future—because they believe Jesus Christ’s return is imminent and there will be no dystopian world or space travel or post-apocalyptic future.

It seems to me that this approach to fiction is needlessly limiting. All novels are make-believe.

Writers imagine and create a world based on what they think it would be like to be Eve after she and Adam have been removed from the Garden of Eden or an Englishman traveling via ley lines to different places in different times or a Swiss national during World War II or a Dalit caste member in India during the mid-twentieth century or a contemporary homicide detective who’s fallen out of favor with his commander or a twenty-first century mom who’s decided vaccinating her children may cause them harm.

Still other writers imagine what the world would be like if elves existed or if animals could talk or if there were life in space, more advanced than ours.

I grew up with books about trains that thought they could, and toads that went on wild rides, and rabbits that out-maneuvered bears, or foxes that plotted how to escape the local farm hound.

Imagination. Pretend. Make-believe. That’s what I discovered inside books. And yet, there was also truth. The pig who built his house of bricks was wiser than those who built using straw or sticks. In the end, wicked step-sisters didn’t profit by their wickedness, and the prideful emperor was foolish for walking around without any clothes.

What, then, is different about a story set on Mars in 2237 when earth has built colonies there? Or set on earth in 2183 after most of the population has been wiped out by a pandemic? These utilize the same principle as other stories—make-believe.

Truth in stories is a tricky thing. On the story-telling level, often referred to as realism, readers need to believe in what’s taking place. When they accept the “what if” premise—what if Alice fell down a hole into a strange land with talking beasts and other strange phenomena—the events that follow should be believable. In addition, the characters should act in a way that is consistent with the motives and personality traits the author has given them.

In addition, there needs to be internal consistency. If the story is set in a real place and time, then it should adhere to the known truths of that location and age. If it takes place in a fanciful location or time—Oz or Wonderland or Deep Space Nine or Perelandra—the rules of that world should become clear and should have coherence.

There’s a second level of truth, however. Stories need to tell the truth about the way the world works, either in the physical realm or in the spiritual or both. Consequently, a story should accurately reflect humankind’s nature, the existence of good and of evil, a person’s search for purpose or belonging, the truth that life is precious and has meaning, that God exists and rules over all, or any number of other eternal, universal truths.

My guess is, readers who don’t believe Christians should write or read dystopian fiction or science fiction set in the distant future, do not understand the nature of fiction. Some, at least, want to limit stories to that which could happen. Consequently, since animals could not talk, stories should not be about talking animals. Since toys could not animate, stories should not be about animated toys. Since (in their thinking) Christ will come back before some far distant time, stories in a far distant time could not happen.

As I think about speculative stories, I realize what a double-whammy the Harry Potter books endured. First were readers who thought writing about wizards and witches was sinful because of the Bible’s condemnation of divination and spiritism and sorcery. When the Harry Potter apologists pointed out that the witches and wizards were pretend and not intended to reflect actual belief in wizardry, they came up against those who expected fiction only to express that which could happen.

Stories can be sinful from my perspective—they can lie about God or about the way our world works (that life is meaningless, for example, or that evil wins in the end). They can also fail on the story-telling level. But I don’t see a way that an entire genre could be written off as “untruthful.” An understanding of what fiction really is would challenge such a position.

Many Christians, including many parents, are practicing “white magic” whenever they fear and shun objects, symbols, and Things more than they fear Jesus Christ and hate inner sin.

Just this morning I saw this mystical perspective on display yet again.

With Halloween on the way, it’s time to explore this topic again (more on this next month). And yes, calling parents’ fears and reactions “white magic” seems harsh. But I’ve come close to this before, and novelist Mike Duran provided further helpful reflections.¹ And I don’t know what else to call it when parents repeat these beliefs:

• The Devil can own objects, symbols, visual motifs, and Things, and use these things to “get to” your innocent children and to you.
• Therefore to protect yourself you must fear these objects, shun them, and perform spiritual measures (including rule-following and verse recitations) to stay safe.

Folks, this is too close to the kind of divination God condemned in Deuteronomy 18.²

So what brought this back to my attention? A concerned parent being fearful on Facebook.

Plugged In takes a step

Yesterday PluggedIn.org posted part 2 of an excellent interview with hip-hop artist Lecrae.

If you don’t know Lecrae, he happens to be successful breakout hip-artist and a Christian with a very biblical view of art, culture, and vocation. You can see that expressed here:

“I believe the reason why the church typically doesn’t engage culture is because we are scared of it. … We’re scared it’s going to somehow jump on us and corrupt us. We’re scared it’s going to somehow mess up our good thing. So we consistently move further and further away from the corruption, further and further away from the crime, further and further away from the postmodernity, further and further away from the relativism and secular humanism, and we want to go to a safe place with people just like you. We want to be comfortable.”

So I like it that Plugged In is interviewing Lecrae. Often Plugged In is seen as one of those websites that evangelical parents use to “outsource” discernment to staff rather than to help them explore popular culture.³

I also like it that Plugged In is trying something a little different with their “Movie Nights” feature. To me it appears the writers are exploring a radical concept of treating teens like junior adults rather than innocent children who need to have bad words screened for them:

This whole issue of good movies/bad movies has been a point of tension for me ever since I began working for Plugged In—and, really, I think it’s a paradox that Plugged In has always dealt with. After all, most movies aren’t altogether good or bad. Most fall somewhere in between.

[…] Our Movie Nights are never to be treated as a seal of approval. We’ve said that for years. And I personally like that, because I think that sometimes more content-laden movies—particularly popular ones—deserve a Movie Night treatment more than the squeaky-clean ones.

[…] In essence, we want to help jumpstart conversation in the world you actually live in, not the world in which we’d ideally like you to be.

It’s a small step, at least for Christians who years ago started hollering about how we need to stop creating our own often-delusional popular cultures and shine light into the actual world. But Christians with conservative backgrounds, let’s not be trolls. We can empathize.

Plugged In steps too far?

But if Plugged In hopes to encourage parents to think beyond inspection of a film’s outward appearance — so they can be sure the film is “safe” for Message delivery — they face a long hard journey. Many parents still hold the views or the default posture of one commentator. This concerned dad saw Plugged In’s image of Lecrae with a triangle over his eye and said:

Perhaps he should not portray the Illuminati pyramid with the all-seeing eye emphasized. This is exactly the type of Luciferian propaganda used by the secular musicians.

Please don’t just laugh (as some commentators did). This father is genuinely concerned that Plugged In’s graphic designer intentionally used an “evil” symbol, or at best was ignorant of the “secret knowledge” that this symbol is used to transmit evil intentions on behalf of a “Luciferian” secret society or “the Illuminati.”⁴

In response you can laugh (perhaps if you’re one of Them: a member of the evil society or an ignorant compromiser). Or you can issue a challenge to someone like that. This is what I did. I think it’s the only way to combat such beliefs: to say that they’re the mystics, they’re the ones who are attempting “white magic” contra Deut. 18 and contra Colossians 2:20-23.

BG, I challenge you to prove from the sufficient Scripture alone that certain symbols, visual motifs, etc. are intrinsically evil and to be feared.

By accident, you’re actually advocating a “white magic” approach to evil — as if avoiding certain sights, sounds, and presumably objects will keep out sin. The apostle Paul challenges such notions in Colossians 2. Jesus Christ the Savior of His people, who made a public spectacle of demonic powers (Col. 2:15), warns against such attempts to act as if the evil is “out there” in the world or things we bring from the world into ourselves, rather than our own sinful hearts (Mark 7). Here you have slandered Plugged In and its graphic designer(s) in a way that has not shown Christlike love for them.⁵⁶

If Plugged In’s writers or other Christians aim to “jumpstart conversation [using popular culture] in the world you actually live in, not the world in which we’d ideally like you to be,” then what will we do when people react like this? Ignore them? That’s not loving. Laugh at them? It’s hard to avoid this, but that’s also limited and/or not loving. Challenge them? Yes, I think we should. We must challenge Christians, starting with ourselves, to reject such “white magic” notions about the world. We must see that actual sin-corruption comes not from evil objects, symbols, or Things, but from our own hearts (Mark 7). And we must find the solution not in worthless and pagan worldly rules (Col. 2), but in our holy loving Savior.

Behind questionable end-times views and style, the “Left Behind” series is fine pulp-thriller fantasy.

In just one week the new Left Behind film¹ comes to theaters.

I’ve already explored my complex relationship with the novel series and my old fandom of the whole franchise. I do recognize that many Left Behind fans take the fantastical fiction far too seriously, maybe because they don’t understand the limits of Bible-based speculation. And lately I’m also among the first to disclaim the series’ view of the end times. I no longer believe the “pre-tribulation” view of “the rapture” is the only available option. And in fact I see severe problems with the Christian belief that Jesus Christ will snatch his people out of the world before his actual Second Coming.²

All that aside, this time I’m here to say: Actually the series is still kind of awesome.

Disclaimer: Not just the novels

Of note: I have a unique perspective on Left Behind (hereinafter LB to describe the whole series). I haven’t read the books in several years. And in fact I may have only read the final volumes only once apiece. After Armageddon and Glorious Appearing released, I switched to enjoying repeats of the LB story by listening to the dramatic audio series by GapDigital, a group of chaps in Chicago — I actually once toured the studio — who arrange epic sound mixes for thriller movies, only without the movies. The dramatic audio (DA) series was adapted by Chris Fabry (who’s now a radio host), and director/engineer/producer Todd Busteed (who’s now a race/marathon announcer, though GapDigital is still around).

So thanks to the DA series I can likely ignore the flaws that I’ve also seen in the LB novels.

Yes, the LB novel series writing style has been described as dull, sparse, and surprisingly unexciting even about subjects such as potentially planet-splitting comets. For example, Jerry B. Jenkins was the brain behind the fiction, and he would sometimes write things like, “Bullets riddled the fuselage” and end with a period. Yes, I know authors should supposedly avoid using exclamation points, and if you believe that, then read period as a metaphor, not a punctuation mark. Bullets would riddle the fuselage — quite often because there was a lot of flying and thus a lot of fuselages — and the characters would react in period-like fashion.

Audio actor Tom McElroy > Nicolas Cage.

But in the DA series you didn’t “hear” “bullets riddled the fuselage.” Instead you heard “PAPWING-PWING-PWING-PWING,” often in surround sound, then your heroes would be yelling and scrambling and firing off Whedon-esque snappy dialogue.³ The LB books mentioned almost in passing that demon locusts from the pit chanted the name of their evil master, Abaddon. The DA has them snarling it aloud by the thousands: “AH-BAD-ONN!” It’s exciting stuff, worthier of the scale and suspense of a pre-trib, post-rapture apocalypse.

So sometimes when I wax nostalgic about the LB series, I’m not seeing words on a page; I’m hearing actors’ voices (the DA actors were amazing) and sound effects and synth score.

This brings me to my first praiseworthy point of three. (I’ll continue the series next week.)

1. The story is fantastical

I said this at CAPC and I’ll say it again: “I just wish more evangelicals realized Left Behind is still just end times fantasy and could have fun with it anyway, rather than taking it all so seriously.” Now that sounds more negative, as if I’m a critic who derisively claims, “Well, that’s just fantasy.” Not my intent. LB is cool fantastical, and has all the hallmarks of such.

1. Millions of people vanish from the world. (This is a wholly original evangelical notion.)
2. “The most evil of all Evil Overlords”⁴ rises to power.
3. A secret society opposes him.⁵
4. They join with other secret societies from diverse nations all over the world.
5. World War III. Four horsemen. Plagues galore. Miracle-workers.
6. Counterfeit resurrection. Satan. More Satan. Then full-on mid-dystopia. Yes, the LB series was exploring pre–, mid–, and post-dystopian storytelling before it was cool.
7. All keep fighting until the return of the King to set everything right and bring paradise.

2. Characters are vivid

Here’s where I defend Jenkins a little bit, because you can’t really fault a creator for doing something he absolutely intended to do. Some people want to write something brilliant and then accidentally write a pathetic parody of their own grandiose idea. Others know exactly what will sell, who they are writing for, and what they’re doing. I would put LB in the latter category. Its authors wanted to make potboiler thrillers with Bible verses and that’s just what they made. If you open the books expecting otherwise, you’re gonna have a bad time.

But more often than you expect — after my recommended lower expectations — even the books rise up and surprise you (without the benefit of actors, synth score and soundscape).

“Not your momma’s Christian fiction” since 1999.

I’m still benefiting from pilot Rayford Steele’s honest exploration of how a godly Christian should behave when he’s recruited to fly the Antichrist’s super-plane. The Beast hasn’t yet been Satan-ized, but what should Rayford do? The answer: He acts as the professional that he is. Even while serving the Antichrist, he can glorify God in his vocation. (Later he also finds a chance to use a bug on the plane, giving readers a sneak peak at the evil goings-on.)

Rayford gets his own excellent story arc between books 5 and 7 when the story raises some intriguing questions: Can a faithful believer assassinate the Antichrist if he can justifiably claim “the prophecy made me do it”? Slight spoiler here, but folks who complain about (or applaud) the cleaned-up world of Christian fiction should take note of how Jenkins explores and ultimately resolves this question. Rayford, the professional pilot and “good” Christian, sinks into depression, fits of outrage against his allies, and assassination plotting. Spoiler: the story does get him off the hook for Antichrist-murder. But he is forced to be a fugitive and face his own deep-seated sins — even though he did end up contributing to the fulfillment of biblical prophecy (as the authors understand it).

Some character may seem flat, especially given the writing style. But overall they sound and act different, have their own agendas, and do have color, even if the reader must fill in the lines. That’s more than I’d expect from simplistic thrillers. And for critics sick of uniformly white Christian novel characters: later I’ll explore diversity.

3. Worldbuilding is decent

The TVTropes people offer one understandable criticism about the series: that it presents a “cozy catastrophe.” Well, some of that was only in the first book, and here I have to grade on a curve: up until then previous attempts to fictionalize “the Rapture” were even worse. It’s not like Christians often fictionalize real-world consequences of massive catastrophes. And if it was only Christians who did this poorly, there wouldn’t be a trope for it.

But overall LB successfully conveys that sweeping sense of flying about the whole planet and landing in strange airports with passports and hotels and disasters and bad guys and the whole caboodle. Folks laughed at the Americanized version of Israel in earlier novels. Yet I think the author(s) took this criticism to heart and put more research into the later installments.⁶ Israel got more Israeli, African nations got more African, European chase scenes got that Bourne Identity vibe, and all of them got worse as the story became mid-dystopian.

Personally I wished for more worldbuilding in the novel series. In the DA when you went to New Babylon, capital of the Antichrist’s evil world-empire, you could “hear” more fancy city and bureaucracy thanks to all the little atmosphere tricks and background tracks in the soundscape. In the book series you only heard, I think once, that the evil capital has golden spires like those Sunday-school pictures of heaven (in America, that is). But again I think this was a conscious choice of the author(s). They didn’t want lots of description anyway.

Next week: exploring the fairly awesome action, “preachiness,” and secular fanbase of LB.

A 1911 Industrial Worker (IWW newspaper) publication advocating industrial unionism that shows the critique of capitalism. It is based on a flyer of the “Union of Russian Socialists” spread in 1900 and 1901.

Whether we are talking about Occupy Wall Street or unions, capitalistic corporations have often been a target of politicians and pundits attempting to identify what is wrong with the world.

While certainly such people often reduce the complexities of our problems into simplistic diagnosis and solutions instead of getting to the heart of the problem, there can be no doubt that without boundaries, pure capitalism tends to devolve into a means to satisfy the greed of the most powerful at the expense of those lacking power. It is because of that reality that laws were passed against the abuse of such power and unions formed to give the workers a measure of power to counter the company’s.

But I’m not intending to promote or decry capitalism. It has its benefits and negatives, and like any other economic system, is only as benevolent or not as those people in power are or not. Because someone has to be in power, any system will be filled with sinful humans with selfish goals.

As Christian enterprises like music, film, and books have grown over the years, they have become more profitable enterprises.

Many of the traditional Christian publishers are now owned by a handful of non-Christian conglomerates.

Those companies have consolidated most all media—newspapers, publishing companies, cable companies, TV networks, movie companies—into a small elite group.

It is the catch 22 of Christian entertainment. We want the biggest possible audience for our media, to reach the most people with the gospel, but when we start to succeed at that task, the money flows into the bank accounts. Companies are evaluated upon a profit and loss statement rather than the effectiveness of the ministry. Even more so when the head of that Christian media organization has to answer to a non-Christian parent company who has no patience with ministry goals.

Christian authors encounter this dynamic as well.

We want our books to sell well, so our ministry will have the largest impact. For those who find that success, it is easy to look at writing more as a means to obtain money than a ministry, and focus our writing on what will produce the biggest return financially rather than spiritually.

Even for those authors who don’t find that success, the desire for it can become more important than simply writing the story that will glorify God. Coveting needs no fulfillment to hurt us.

Writing and publishing requires treating them like a business if it is to be sustainable.

The challenge for the Christian has always been how to balance the demands of good business decisions with the need of good ministry decisions.

It takes a spiritually mature person in each of these cases to avoid the temptation to allow money to guide their decisions and life. Some people will be guilty of falling into that trap. Good Christian authors will allow capitalistic concerns to trump God’s goals for them.

When we see that happen or sense that it has in a certain case, as a Christian reader we can grow disillusioned. Give up on the task of influencing the world by shinning our little light of Christ in the darkness. Throw in the towel on promoting Christian fiction in whatever venue we have been given. Or as an author, pull into an enclave rather than continue to reach out.

As Jesus said, we are in the world but not of it.

If we keep an eternal perspective, whatever our ministry God has given us, the concerns for paying the bills and whether our book will earn out, will not override touching lives for God and making our lives a testament to His glory.

Has capitalism tainted Christianity? As much as the Fall has, yes. The good news is God can still redeem our efforts, still work though our bad decisions. He still doesn’t give up on us or our stories.

We should not give up on shining the light of Christ in the distorted culture of the world either. We should not let imperfections keep us from using stories to point people to God.

If culture is redeemable, it is because the people that make it up are redeemable.

Culture is, after all, a tool, an expression of who we are as a people. We can let culture influence us, including capitalistic concerns, or we can influence the culture for Christ.

How do you respond to the tug-of-war between Christianity and the world, between the eternal and the temporal in our entertainment decisions?

Unlike its antecedent, Judaism, Christianity is culturally diverse. Jesus Himself turned the notions of the Jewish elite on their heads in any number of ways.

He targeted simple fishermen to be his disciples, for example, instead of going after the more learned scholars. He showed no political bias, either, including among his disciples a zealot and a tax collector. Simon, as a zealot, would have been focused on the overthrow of Roman rule. Matthew, as a tax collector, would have been bent on cooperating with Rome and serving their interests (as well as his own).

Jesus showed no favoritism toward the rich or powerful, though he did not refuse to engage them, challenge them, and invite them to be His followers (see Nicodemus and the rich young ruler). At the same time, He included the most marginalized in society as those He singled out—a leper, a blind man, a woman with a hemorrhage, a group of children, a prostitute, a Samaritan woman, a lame man, a demon-possessed outcast.

Finally, Jesus showed no gender bias. He commended the poor widow for her generous giving, for instance, but chastised the men in the temple who were turning God’s house into a “den of thieves.” In addition, he gave no preference to men over women when it came to meeting people’s needs. While He didn’t name any women as His disciples, clearly a group of women were among those who followed Him, supported Him financially, and who He encouraged to learn from Him, as evidenced by His telling Martha that Mary, in choosing to listen to His teaching had chosen the better activity.

Christ’s example is expanded in the early Church, both by experience and by instruction. First, through the Holy Spirit’s work, Peter came to understand that God’s grace extends to Gentiles as well as to Jews. After a vision from God, he preached to a group of Gentile seekers who God led to him. When the Holy Spirit manifested Himself in the same way He had at Pentecost to those Gentiles who believed, Peter understood that there was no difference between Greek and Jew.

Consequently, Paul’s work among Gentiles received the approval of the leadership of the Jerusalem church; Philip, in obedience to the Holy Spirit, preached to an Ethiopian eunuch; Timothy, with mixed parentage, became a pastor.

Women were also prominent in the early church. Lydia, a significant person in her community, was one of Paul’s first converts in Europe. Timothy learned about God from his mother Eunice and grandmother Lois. Paul referred to two Philippian women, Euodia and Syntyche (who he admonished to live in harmony), as fellow workers. In Colossians he greeted Nympha who apparently hosted a church in her house. John and Paul both addressed letters (3 John and Philemon, respectively), at least in part, to women.

The rich/poor divide was also something the early church disregarded. Paul declared that slave and free were equal in Christ. James taught that believers were not to give the rich special considerations or to treat the poor as second class.

Paul’s traveling companions included people like Secundus—Second; the book of Romans was penned by an amanuensis, or secretary, named Tertius—third. These are possibly designations given to slaves. Paul wrote the book of Philemon on behalf of a runaway slave who had become a believer, referring to him as his “child” and “beloved brother.”

These examples are buoyed by Paul’s clear teaching:

there is no distinction between Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and freeman, but Christ is all, and in all. (Col. 3:11)

Diversity marked Christ’s ministry and has been a hallmark of the Church from early on. Today Christianity encompasses any number of people groups, largely because believers take seriously God’s commission to make disciples of those at home, nearby, and far away. Bible translation efforts have been fueled by Scripture which says in heaven there will be members of every tribe and tongue, coupled with Paul’s question, How can they believe unless they hear?

So here’s my question. In what way does Christian speculative fiction reflect the diversity of the faith? Among the great things J. R. R. Tolkien accomplished in his epic Lord of the Rings trilogy was a reflection of Christian diversity. The Fellowship included a dwarf, hobbits, an elf, a wizard, and two men.

As some have liked to point out, Tolkien’s weakness was his inclusion, or near lack thereof, of women. C. S. Lewis did a better job in that regard, though he also has his critics because of his treatment of Susan in the end of the Narnia series.

Apart from the masters, how diverse is today’s Christian speculative fiction? Does it reflect the diversity of the Christian faith? How can those of us who are writers do so without appearing to have nothing more than a token “other race” character?

I’d love to hear of examples of either fantasy or science fiction that get it right and how, in your opinion, they pulled it off.