Dream Treader, published by Thomas Nelson and written by Wayne Thomas Batson, is a contemporary fantasy for middle graders/young adults.

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Chapter 1 – Night Terrors

The howls grew louder. The hounds were closer, closing in.

“They’ve got my scent!” Archer Keaton growled as he raced down the moonlit mountain path into a misty dell full of black pines. “Gotta throw them off.” But how? Then he knew.

Archer launched himself skyward. He let his feet brush the treetops a moment, and then purposefully let himself crash down through the crisscrossing pine branches.

Creak. “Ouch.” Crunch. “Oof!” Crack! “Oww!”

The fourteen-year-old yelped with each bounce, smack, and breaking branch. He tumbled to the ground in a sticky heap. When he stood up and tried to brush the pine needles from his coat, vest, and pants, the sap kept most of them glued tight. “Good,” Archer whispered. “The more sap, the better. Now, gotta go!”

He broke out from beneath the pines and sprinted across the uneven ground. The howls were still there. Deep, throaty, mournful howls. And they were still getting closer.

“No way!” Archer grumbled, searching for any near place to get cover . . . shelter.

Crack!

Something was behind him. In the pines. Something big enough to snap a tree trunk as if it were a twig. Archer knew there were only a few creatures in the area large enough and heavy enough to do that kind of damage, but which beast was it? He had a suspicion but hoped he was wrong. That creature hunted in packs,

Archer spotted the ruins of an old castle, just a half-collapsed keep and a leaning tower in the crook of a patch of broadleaf trees and more pines. He drove his legs like pistons and dove into the trees. The teenager’s sudden arrival startled some blackbirds from their roosts among the branches. They cawed, croaked, and cried their harshly voiced displeasure, but Archer paid them little mind. He careened around the trunks, stumbled to a knee, but drove on.

“Breathe, Keaton,” he commanded himself. Archer ducked under an archway in the old ruin and flattened his back to the stone wall inside. “Just breathe.”

“What’s the matter with you?” a high, nasal voice asked.

Archer jumped. Heart thrumming, he looked down and found his hands no longer empty. He’d summoned a pair of hand grenades.

“Ohhhhhh,” the voice said, right next to Archer’s ear. “You’re a Dreamtreader, aren’t you?”

Archer spun left and right but saw nothing. “Where are you?” he gasped.

“Right here.”

Archer craned his neck around. The voice really was close. It sounded a little like Razz. No, it was a little huskier and had an odd warble to it. Besides, Razz wanted nothing to do with Archer’s mission on this night.

“I still can’t see you,” he said.

“Of course you can’t,” the voice said. “I’m stuck here inside your coat!”

Archer willed the grenades to vanish and groped inside his long leather duster. There was nothing there—wait. he felt something prickly, and his left hand came back with a sticky pinecone.

“See, here I am,” the voice said, and Archer felt a faint vibration in his palm.

“You’re a pinecone?” he asked.

“No, you doofus,” the voice said. “I’m a pine coon. There’s a big difference!”

Just then, four little clawed feet popped out. A fluffy, black-and-gray tail uncurled as well. And, as Archer stared, he discovered two brown eyes glistening and blinking from a dark mask of fuzz at the con’es point.

“A pine coon?” Archer echoed. Then he shrugged. Why not? Anything was possible here.

The little creature’s dark nose twitched. It flicked its head side to side and squeaked. “Uh-oh!” Instantly, its eyes, nose, limbs and tail disappeared into its pinecone torso.

“What?” Archer blurted. “What’s wrong?”

The howl that came next was so loud that Archer felt the sound as much as he heart it.

“Chuck me into a tree!” the pine coon whispered urgently.

There were noises outside the ruin. First, a violent snuffling; then, the scrape of claw on stone; and finally, a very low growl.

“Please! Chuck me, chuck me, chuck me!”

“Just one second,” Archer whispered back. “Where can I go?”

“High place,” the pine coon said. “Tower?”

Archer had to cross the open courtyard to get to its stairwell, but the creature was right: the tower was the only real shelter.

Another how. Archer leaped away from the wall and bounded across the stone-strewn courtyard. Just before the Dreamtreader ducked into the stairwell, he tossed the pine coon over the wall and into the waiting branches of a tree bushy with needles.

Up the curling stairs he went. After a long climb, Archer found himself in the highest chamber of the turret. He knelt by the window and dared a look out into the night.

The trees surrounding the ruins were swaying, but there was no wind. Archer saw something dark moving among them. It was a ridge of black fur . . . the spiky spine of a creature, and it was at least twelve feet off the ground. Here and there, the moonlight caught a slisten of red or yellow eyes.

Hounds.

Archer had hear the hounds many times. He’d seen their silhouettes from a distance. But he’d never seen one up close. That’s because I’ve never been stupid enough to get this close to Shadowkeep, he thought. Until now.

Archer sensed something. He dropped down beneath the window sill and held his breaht. A growl rumbled just outside. Archer cringed. At the same time, he summoned up every bit of will and concentration he could muster. He wasn’t certain what he would do, what he would summon to defend himself, but he had to be ready.

The growl trailed off, and the snuffling began again. The turret chamber grew darker. Archer sank down even lower. When he looked up at the window, a leathery black snout hovered there. It twitched and throbbed as it sniffed filling the air with humidity and a musky scent.

A sword? Archer thought. Stab it right in the nose. Maybe a stick of dynamite? No, two sticks . . . one for each nostril. Or maybe a chain saw?

The snout rose higher and angled at the window. There was a sharp sniff followed by an angry snarl. Then, the hound’s snout withdrew. A howl rose in the distance, while an answering howl echoed just outside the window.

About “Icky Bits” — sometimes-controversial story elements such as violence, swear words or sex that are usually foreign to Christian fiction — I could say plenty more.

Last week I said that icky-bits defenders can have shallow reasons for their defenses, or that they can react in cultural “fundamentalist” fashion in favor of Icky Bits, and that they can simplify the issue to “it’s between me and Jesus” while leaving out crucial truths such as the value of personal holiness and worship with other believers in Christ.

This week I could go on and argue further about how some defenses of Icky Bits are shallow, careless, or un-Biblical. Instead I think I’ll start with another angle:

Q: Let’s put Icky Bits into fiction and really stick it to the sentimentalist CBA types!

A. Let’s not be nearly so boring.

Seriously, I almost want to avoid this entire topic because so much cyber-ink has been shed about Icky Bits and the cyber-pens have become dull. The best “argument” for Icky Bits is to show how they are done in a fantastic, well-made story and to be kind to critics while doing it. A story made for that motive is interesting. A story made as reaction to a conservative Faction is dull. Besides, don’t we want to avoid endorsing “agenda fiction”?

Q: Yes! We need to talk about how We As Writers approach Icky Bits!

A. Let’s talk first about how we approach Icky Bits as readers.

If we skip to looking at the Icky Bits issues from the perspective of authors, we miss a step. I want to emphasize this mainly because I fight the impulse in myself — the impulse to try to be a Big Spiritual Fiction Leader and consider myself Arrived, having transcended the level of the proletariat reader who simply seeks great stories. We can’t assume we already mastered this basic reader-level stuff and have leveled up to debate it as master Jedi.

How have youas a reader come to appreciate Icky Bits? If you felt differently before, what Biblical arguments and support from stories changed your mind? I do believe it should be those two things that have primarily changed our minds on Icky Bits, rather than anger against a particular conservative Faction — anger that can lead to embracing the dark side.

Q: Fine then, let’s talk about how Icky Bits will help us share better stories with non-Christian readers!

A. This would also start the conversation much too late.

It’s actually a rather evangelical impulse to want to “use” fiction primarily for the cause of evangelism. If someone says they want ickier-bittier fiction to help non-Christian readers, I suggest they’re accepting this evangelical impulse and simply want to do it better. But does that not treat fiction primarily as a vehicle and not as “an end in itself”?¹

Q: Okay, but I’m not worried about writing or evangelism; instead I simply want to share better Art by Christians with the world.

A. This is simply secularized “evangelism” without John 3:16.

Before you can be a writer, an evangelist, or an art enjoyer/sharer, what are you?

A human being.

A human being who loves stories.

A human being who was created to consciously worship and glorify God in all things.

Let’s avoid thinking about fiction and Icky Bits as writers, evangelists, art lovers, or leaders of any kind. First let’s decide the purpose of fiction as simple humans, or even as children.

I want to keep this viewpoint in the background of every discussion I have about fiction:

Q. What is man’s chief end?

A. Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.

Q. So what is our chief end for enjoying fiction?

A. Fiction’s chief end is to help us glorify God and enjoy Him forever.

So if Icky Bits in fiction help us enjoy God better — “enjoying God” being defined the way God’s revealed Word to His people defines it — then great. That’s a far better path to Art.

And if Icky Bits in fiction also helps fiction take us on a journey and provoke thought about how reality truly is, about how lies may compare with truth or how ugliness compares with beauty, then great. This accomplishes evangelism but doesn’t treat fiction as a mere vehicle.

And if Icky Bits in fiction liberates aspiring authors to glorify God in an approaching-sinless way, which will in turn better “simulate” truth and beauty to readers, that’s also fantastic.

See — all along I have hoped not to avoid exploring Icky Bits as authors or evangelists or art-lovers, but simply to re-approach those secondary aims after a significant detour.

And I am afraid I will keep the detour open and keep waving my signs. As long as Christians are confused about this “chief end” of fiction, I feel I must always emphasize this basic truth here on SpecFaith and anywhere else. We can’t pretend we already agree on what fiction is meant to do and then talk about advanced stuff. We must first agree on that chief end.

Finally, my intent is not to levy guilt for supposed sin: You haven’t been discussing the “chief end of fiction” as much as I have. Instead I hope to ensure that, whatever we decide about Icky Bits, we seek to use them first for God’s glory and not for lesser goals such as writing or evangelism or Art. Yes, all those other goals are very good goals. But if readers, fans, or writers make those goals into their Chief Ends, I say they may be leaning toward idolatry — and they also cannot reach those lesser goals.

Aim for God’s glory and you will get great art, evangelism, and storytelling thrown in.

Aim for those lesser goals and you will get none.

Rebecca LuElla Miller recently wrote on our need for discernment in our novel reading. Really, it applies to all our entertainment, no matter the venue or whether it is labeled Christian or not.

That discernment is found through a familiarity with the Bible. So I figured what better way to put that discernment into practice than to do a series of articles on passages in Scripture that aid us in developing Biblical discernment in what entertainment choices we make.

To start, we’ll look at a verse frequently quoted when it comes to reading speculative fiction:

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. (Phil. 4:8)

Context

In chapter 3, Paul has effectively laid out the mindset, lifestyle, and expectation of the Christian in such well-known statements as this:

Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Let us therefore, as many as be perfect, be thus minded: and if in any thing ye be otherwise minded, God shall reveal even this unto you. (Phil. 3:13-15)

With those thoughts in mind, Paul then says in Phil. 4:1,

Therefore, my brethren dearly beloved and longed for, my joy and crown, so stand fast in the Lord, my dearly beloved.

He then proceeds in the following verses to explain how they are to “stand fast in the Lord.” Verse 8 is one of the prescriptions Paul gives us to accomplish that goal. This purpose is important in applying this verse to our entertainment choices.

The Application

This verse is often quoted in response to those who favor gritter fiction, dark fiction, or horror. The idea is if a story contains elements that don’t fall into the categories of being true, honest, just, pure, lovely, good report, virtuous, praise-worthy; then it is not spiritually healthy for a Christian to partake.

There may be some truth at times, but this needs to be brought within a wider context of Scripture. Because in Scripture we find depictions of people and acts that would in no way fit into any of those categories.

As one example, consider the story of Noah. There are tragic and dark moments in that story, both in the depiction of man before the flood, and the reality that millions or billions of men, women, children, babies, and various animals died in the flood. That’s a massive amount of people and animals God killed off, and I’m sure it was not a pretty sight to behold.

“But Noah’s story teaches us some truths about God!” some will refute.

Bingo! It is clear it is the overall message which should lead us to the constructive areas of thoughts that will benefit our Christian walk, not the individual details, no matter how sinful, dark, or gory.

Point is, if we apply Paul’s words to the Bible itself in this manner, we must apply them the same to all thoughts that we expose our minds to. Include the speculative fiction we read.

It isn’t the presence of “icky, bad stuff” that we are to avoid thinking about, but rather discernment comes into play on what that stuff, icky or not, leads us to focus on, what truths it formulates in our minds.

The discerning question then isn’t does this story contain people doing and saying bad things, but rather does this story lead me to focus on and believe things that are not true, honest, just, pure, lovely, good report, virtuous, and praise-worthy?

If the answer is yes, then discernment says this is not beneficial to one’s ability to stand fast in the Lord, even if the book is backed by big-name Christians. Even if it contains “wholesome” content.

Likewise, a story that does lead one to focus on and believe in such thoughts is beneficial even if it might contain characters committing sexual sins or cussing.

This will vary from person to person as well. One person might be able to read a sex scene and not sin, but be led to focus on a greater virtue in contrast to the sin depicted. Another, due to past temptations and proclivities, might be tempted to fulfill their lust upon reading, and be led to focus on impure and immoral thoughts and actions.

If we keep in mind the immediate goal—to stand fast in the Lord—we can use Phil. 4:8 to guide us in making the best entertainment choices that support that goal, or at least don’t negatively impact it. It is the cumulative impact of the story upon us that becomes the deciding factor.

How does this verse help you in choosing what to read?

What future verses would you like to see me tackle?

Some time ago I was talking with a group of friends, and the topic of “safe” fiction came up. Since two of these Christians are moms and the other is a school teacher, they had a vested interest in the topic. At one point, we began discussing The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, primarily the film version so well-known today.

In most circles, this book and movie would be an illustration of safe fiction, the kind we want our children to read. After all, the story upholds the importance of home, the value of courage, heart, wisdom and honesty.

From Wikipedia:

Regarding the original Baum storybook, it has been said: “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is America’s greatest and best-loved home grown fairytale. The first totally American fantasy for children, it is one of the most-read children’s books . . . and despite its many particularly American attributes, including a wizard from Omaha, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz has universal appeal.” The film itself is widely considered to be one of the most well known, beloved films of all time, and was one of the earliest films to be deemed “culturally significant” by the United States Library of Congress.

“Culturally significant” is an apt description, I think. The movie and book, in my opinion, prepared several generations to accept secular humanism in place of Christianity. A bold statement, perhaps, but not without grounds.

First, the author himself, L. Frank Baum, was a theosophist. From “What Is Theosophy”:

Theosophy teaches that all religions contain elements of the “Ancient Wisdom” and that wise men throughout history have held the secret of spiritual power. Those who have been enlightened by the divine wisdom can access a transcendent spiritual reality through mystical experience.

No wonder, then, Dorothy and friends arrive in Oz only to discover that the wizard, as the supposedly all powerful ruler (and therefore a God figure), is a fraud. No wonder in the end, good witch Gilda tells Dorothy she’s had the ability to go home all along, she just had to find it inside her. No wonder the Tin Man discovered he had heart all along, the Lion learned he had courage, and the Scarecrow, brains. Throughout the story, there is this strong thread—You can do it, you can do it, you can.

And what a popular message that is today. Self-help seminars, books, infomercials, all proclaiming this belief in the human spirit. How many athletes say something similar in wrap-up interviews! We just had to believe in ourselves.

So now in western culture we have Man, clawing up behind Satan, trying to replace God. In part because of a piece of “safe” fiction.

There were, I’ve heard, some objections to the movie when it came out—because it had witches in it, I was told. So if the good and bad witches had been replaced by good and bad shoe salesmen, the problems would be taken care of?

The search for safe fiction can be a dangerous, dangerous pursuit. Too often those engaged in the quest are looking for whitewashed walls, all the while oblivious to the fact that behind them may lie a tomb.

This article first appeared, minus some editorial changes, at A Christian Worldview of Fiction in June 2008.

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For those in the US celebrating Memorial Day, may you enjoy your holiday in whatever manner you choose.

No, I didn’t get to see the new Godzilla movie this weekend, despite the fact it ranked #1 on the movie charts. I wanted to, but the one chance was on my 32nd anniversary and my wife wasn’t enthralled with the idea of taking in a monster movie. Romance and all. I guess she’s not in love with Godzilla.

We did go see “God is Not Dead.” Not speculative in any way (though I’m sure some atheist would disagree on that point), but there is one thing God and Godzilla have in common. People keep thinking they’ve been killed off, only to watch them come back to life. Thus the title.

Even in film, the monster keeps returning to the silver screen time and time again. About the only other long-running movie series is Bond.

Yet, in speculative fiction, especially science fiction, God has been declared dead on more than one occasion.

For one example: Star Trek. In that universe, no chaplains can be found aboard the ships. Any being with god-like powers is a more evolved species to which humanity will reach some day. While sometimes you’ll find some positive treatments of faith and religion in general (Bejoran, Klingon), it is presented as based in natural phenomena and/or alien influences—not a reality beyond our own nor an eternal God who oversees it all.

In the Star Trek universe, Christianity is, if anything, a footnote in history that died off long ago and God with it.

God Is Not Dead may be trying, ironically, to nail the coffin shut.

How?

Not intentionally, I’m sure. The movie was professionally done. The story, while feeling forced too often, was engaging. It used two veteran actors: Kevin Sorbo and Dean Cain. Most of the cast did a decent acting job given what they had to work with, though there were a couple of weak performances.

If I were to critique the movie itself, it would be the writing. One, there were too many story lines that distracted from the main story. They couldn’t fill a movie length with the main plot, so they threw enough unrelated sub-plots to stretch it out.

Two, while the story was entertaining, it lacked credibility on several key spots. Peter Chattaway, a Christian movie critic, describes the movie this way:

a sloppily written, badly argued, unevenly acted film about a first-year college student who tries to prove the existence of God within weeks of setting foot on campus.

But that isn’t what keeps God dead in this film. Rather, it is the intended audience, and the mixed signals it sends.

The title of the film appears to be an attempt to address secular society’s dismissal of God as a dying idea rather than a vibrant reality. However, the film will mostly appeal to conservative, Evangelical Christians who have no need to be convinced of that fact.

If your standard atheist walked in to see that movie, they would say the movie doesn’t really address their underlying issues, relies upon emotion to answer arguments, the premise—that atheists are such because God let them down at some point in their lives and so they hate God—is as straw man as you can get, and the movie conveniently avoids the more serious arguments.

This movie isn’t intended to reach atheist, but based on content, is focused to reinforce Christian beliefs among Christians.

It is the kind of movie a Christian might identify with, but a non-Christian will tend to shun. Which is sad when the national stage they are playing on provided them with so much more potential for outreach. Instead, it is kept well within the Christian bubble, ensuring few outside of Christianity will watch it or take it seriously.

It isn’t because it has a theme or contains preaching, but that the theme was wrapped and explored in an easy-Christian-answers-and-platitudes manner that provides red meat for believers, but nothing of substance for non-Christians, and thus little witness. That will only keep such movies segregated from most of society, and keep God dead in the minds of many.

As Peter Chattaway laments, this film has proved popular enough among Christians that it surpassed Courageous as the highest-grossing evangelical movie. Rotten Tomatoes puts its earnings at $58.9M as of this date. Mr Chattaway says:

And that’s why it pains me to see that God’s Not Dead . . . has been performing so well at the box office, to the point where it recently passed Courageous to become the top-grossing film ever made by and for evangelicals. If this becomes the standard for all Christian films to come, then the genre is truly in deep, deep trouble.

Can such movies and novels successfully break out of the Christian culture to address such issues in a way that speaks to the non-Christian? Or should we be content to stay in our Christian bubble?

A radio program I occasionally listen to, Family Life Today, ran a series of broadcasts discussing fiction with author Tim Downs, winner of the 2007 Christy Award for best suspense novel of the year for PlagueMaker. Downs’s next novel, First the Dead, features protagonist Nick Polchak, a forensic scientist (an entomologist, to be exact). I haven’t read the book, but from the radio discussion, I gleaned that these “bug book” stories could be considered a Christian version of CSI.

At the end of the first day of discussion, the radio host began his wrap with something like, These books by Tim Downs are safe and entertaining, with a subtle message embedded.

Safe? I’d already been thinking about this topic as the men discussed the research Downs did to understand what a crime scene entomologist would have to do, and how Downs tried to steer into the waters of reality without swamping the expectations of bookstore owners and vigilant, pietistic readers.

It was clear the radio host had read the book. In fact, he mentioned receiving a pre-release copy, but what he didn’t know was what each of the listeners and potential readers were dealing with in their lives.

Is the book “safe” for someone who can’t watch CSI because of the gore? Is the book “safe” for someone who has experienced the ordeal of a murder in their family? Is the book “safe” for a five year old? a ten year old? a fifteen year old?

Those questions may stretch the point, but here’s what I’m getting at: in declaring a book “safe,” it seems to me, the radio host was giving a “G” rating, a blanket endorsement. Such seals of approval, in my view, may snag an unsuspecting reader.

Mind you, I know nothing about Downs’s First the Dead. Possibly, it is truly a book for all ages and stages, that no reader would have difficulty with any aspect of the story or the writing. That idea then prompts me to wonder if the “Christian” story isn’t a moralistic whitewashing of reality?

I suspect, instead, that there are hard looks at death between the covers of this novel. Downs indicated that one thing he wants to do with his fiction is “cross over,” to write a book that non-Christians might read, and leave them with questions to ask about … life, I suppose, or maybe after life.

What I’m wondering … really, what I’m doubting … is if one person can make a determination for another that a particular work is “safe.” Especially if that statement is aimed at millions of unknown listeners who tuned in to the radio on a particular morning.

As clarification, I’m a big fan of this program and the men behind the mic day in and day out. I think their stamp of approval, this declaration that Downs’s book is “safe,” was given with the best of intention. The host liked the book, liked Downs, and wanted to plug First the Dead with his audience, even though some of them might be the vigilant, pietistic readers who would squirm if a book in their local store contained cussing or sex or gratuitous violence.

It doesn’t have any of those, the radio host seemed to be saying, so come on in, the water’s fine.

What happens, then, to the discernment of individual readers? If a reader relies on the “expert” who judges a work to be “safe,” is that any better than relying on where the reader bought the book or what publisher’s imprint is on the spine? In all these cases, the reader is relying on someone else to do his thinking. And frankly, I don’t find that safe at all.

This article, not specifically about Christian speculative fiction but applicable to it, first appeared, minus some editorial changes, at A Christian Worldview of Fiction in June 2008.

You may be missing an excellent discussion after Rebecca LuElla Miller’s May 12 column about Christian authors versus trends. As I write the talk has turned toward a topic of constant interest on SpecFaith: what freelance writer Amy Davis called “icky bits” in fiction.

Around these parts — I include SpecFaith and a host of like-minded fan sites, writers, and blogs — I think we talk more about Icky Bits in the abstract above actually citing specific examples of Icky Bits. This strikes me as odd, because good fiction is supposed to be more concrete, or to use the rightfully popular Christian buzzword, incarnational. So while you may have a different vague or specific image, here’s an example of what I mean by Icky Bits:

• “Damn,” uttered Matilda despondently.
• Sex.
• Mud pies.
• Squalor in the gutter.
• Sex slavery.
• More sex.

Yes, I’m trying to lighten the mood a bit. It’s a serious topic but still we must show some joy during the debate. Yet my purpose here is no less than a summary “position statement” on Icky Bits. This statement is not on behalf of SpecFaith or any of its writers; SpecFaith is a cooperative ministry and you will find as many perspectives here — if not more — as there are contributors. But I feel it’s a good time for me to step in with some clearer thoughts about how Christians ought to approach the discussion about Icky Bits in all sorts of fiction.

Q: Should we even have the Icky Bits discussions?

A. Yes, definitely, but maybe not for the reasons you believe.

Many of us come from backgrounds of “sentimental” Christian art and storytelling. All the “clean” stuff — if it was allowed at all — was meant to teach Family Values or other moral lessons. Some of us now see what a plain turnoff that is. Worse, it can distract from the true Gospel and the causes of showing a very real, very Hands-in-the-dirt incarnate Savior who doesn’t deny the reality of fallen, horrible human beings or the state of a world without His Kingdom. The best stories often show exactly these truths. So we do need the discussion.

All of that are good and Biblical reasons. But these issues are also subject to very deep, personal emotions — ones that may pit us against other Christians who have different views or different journeys. Such Christians may prefer status-quo (yet often stereotypical) Christian fiction, speculative and otherwise, in which there are not even hints that people utter Bad Words and in which children simply arrive without physical romantic cause. I’m not one of those Christians. But I do not want to begrudge them their view. I want to see where they are coming from and why, and only then to challenge if their beliefs are Biblical.

Thus I don’t desire only to stick it to “fundamentalists” or else bemoan how their legalism (actual or perceived) has solely gotten Christian fiction or all of Christianity itself into the sick state it’s in. Such motives seem reactionary, joyless, and boring. They are also familiar.

Q: Can we keep some of the nasty behaviors we inherited from “cultural fundamentalist”¹ Christians and simply switch “sides” to support Icky Bits?

A. No.

From Spurgeon.org

Some time ago I woke up and realized that some of the loudest critics of more-conservative Christians sound a lot like their favorite enemies. In the critics’ case it’s not enough to say “‘clean’ conservative standards hurt me” or “those practices may be okay for others, but I believe God has helped me outgrow their excesses.” Instead some imitate the most clichéd counter-cultural responses by thundering from pulpits or blog platforms about how their sins are the worst sins and it’s only this behavior that makes “the world” rightfully despise we Christians — all but consigning more-conservative Christians to the lowest pits of Hell.

It’s wrong to condemn a Christian who prefers fiction with Icky Bits. It’s just as wrong to condemn a Christian who prefers even the most sentimental, escapist “clean” fiction.²

Q: So isn’t this purely an issue of conscience, between myself and Jesus?

A. Yes and no.

Several Scriptural passages address “disputable matters” and I’m among the first to pull them out when I confront (lovingly, I hope) repeated “Harry Potter is evil” criticism or the frequent “you can’t enjoy Story X because other people who do that use it to sin” notions. But I can’t wholeheartedly endorse a “this is between me and the Art and Jesus” response.

1. Scripture does warn us about holiness. Not taking this seriously is at least as bad an error as falling into legalism. Some matters are indeed “disputable.” Others are not.

2. No story is safe. Thanks to our own hearts’ sin-shrapnel, we can abuse anything to sin, even “clean” fiction, good theology, non-sentimental fiction, or arguments for any of these. I’m not safe, you’re not safe, no one is safe. God can use others’ cautions to help us fight sin.

3. It’s not an issue between you and the Art and Jesus. The Jesus Christ I see in Scripture keeps harping on this oft-irritating concept of “the body of Christ,” in which He does His best work when we’re in Kingdom outposts together. Here I recall the limitations of blogs and online discussions — they are not the same as a Biblical local church. Yet SpecFaith and other ministries can help motivate fiction fans to explore and take their fandom into local churches where they can hash out these issues personally among people they trust.

Next: approaching these issues as worshipers over writers, plus more “Chief End” reminders.

The movie adaptation of Lord of the Rings cut 30 years off Frodo’s life for pacing.

Peter Suderman, in a Slate article titled, “Save the Movie,” last July, makes the case that Hollywood has become too reliant on Blake Synder’s script writing “formula” revealed in the 2005 book, Save the Cat. By so doing, movies all feel the same and creativity is suppressed. Because of the formula’s success and the movie studio’s reliance upon its blockbuster-producing ability to mitigate financial risk, very few “Driving Miss Daisy” type movies get made now. If they do, they find it hard to gain traction.

I got to thinking about not only how this has affected movie script writing, but the written story.

Have we been trained over the last few years by movies to only like certain styles of story-telling?

Back in the 70s, as a teen, I devoured with great interest lots of science fiction and fantasy like Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series. I don’t recall being bored with it at all. A few years ago, I picked up Foundations again and read it. I found myself growing tired of it and wanting it to hurry up and end. Where did the excitement I had as a teen go?

Could it be that movies and TV have trained us to only appreciate books with similar pacing and feel? Could their story-telling formulas be influencing what readers want and expect in novels?

Consider these other changes. Omniscient used to be the reigning point of view prior to the 70s. Telling used to not be so frowned upon as a way to tell a story. The first acts tended to go on longer before requiring “action” or plot movement back in the day.

One could probably point to varied reasons for these changes, but is it more than coincidence that as the movement to quicker cuts, like in the 1967 The Monkees TV series, and blockbuster pacing has become mainstream over the years that our reading tastes have morphed to reflect that subconscious training?

Then we have to wonder, is the expectation for a “page-turner” novel causing a reduction of creativity in modern writing? A lack of a unique voice?

If so, is this an opportunity or danger for Christian Speculative Fiction?

How do you feel visual media has impacted both story-telling and reader’s expectations?