Christian fiction is often accused of shying away from the issue of sex, even in marriage. It is one of the main charges as to why Christian fiction tends to not be “realistic.” In some circles, having a couple kiss is considered bold and daring. To insinuate a married couple is going to have sex is writing “edgy” fiction.

Early in our marriage, my wife used to enjoy an occasional romance novel. She felt convicted about all the casual sex frequently presented as normal in those books and so started reading some Christian romance novels. It wasn’t long before she just stopped reading them at all. She said the stories built up all this sexual tension that had no where to go since holding hands is about all you ever saw them do even when married. In short, it read too unrealistic for her on the sex front.

While that has changed some since the late 80s/early 90s when she read those books, sex avoidance is still the standard operating procedure among Christian fiction, especially in the bigger Christian publishing houses. So much easier to not bring the subject up than to risk losing your audience over it, even if it does make the story unrealistic.

I think there are two main reasons this attitude prevails among readers of Christian fiction. It is the reader’s rejection of such elements being in a story that keeps publishers from accepting more realism in regards to sex.

One, the topic makes them uncomfortable.

Many grow up in households where sex is never mentioned, discussed, or acknowledged. They’ve let the secular abuse of sex and marriage define how they think of it: shameful and dirty. Therefore, they prefer novels that don’t talk about it either. To do so is considered naughty and not Christian, often promoted as such by Christian leaders.

Two, they are running away from secular excesses by running toward “clean fiction.”

Consequently, any mention of sex feels to them like a slippery slope. “It won’t be long before we end up with Christian porn, and then what will be safe to read?” So it preserves the novel-haven to not even go there. One crack in the dike can cause the whole wall to collapse.

We don’t counter the excesses of secular morals about sex by ignoring sex, but by showing it in its proper context.

The proper way to run from secular excesses is by running toward showing a proper Biblical model. The way to obtain a Biblical attitude isn’t by ignoring sex as if the topic is dirty, but demonstrating a healthy model.

The problem is, too many Christians don’t have a very Biblical perspective on this topic. Too many actually believe that a marriage certificate from the state makes one married. Or a wedding ceremony at a church. This secular concept has promoted the idea that people get married in order to morally have sex with someone. It’s all backwards.

In the New Testament times, the state wasn’t involved in marriages. The only contract was between the two families. Having a rabbi at the wedding festivities was optional and none of it took place in the synagogue. When the couple united physically is when the two became one flesh. This is still highlighted symbolically in the modern Jewish wedding ceremony.

Sex unites two people into one flesh.

Paul makes this strikingly clear:

15 Know ye not that your bodies are the members of Christ? shall I then take the members of Christ, and make them the members of an harlot? God forbid. 16 What? know ye not that he which is joined to an harlot is one body? for two, saith he, shall be one flesh.
(1Cor 6:15-16)

The two becoming one flesh—first mentioned in Genesis 2:24, reinforced by Jesus in Mathew 19:5-6; Mark 10:7-8, and highlighted by Paul in Ephesians 5:31—forms the foundation of what it means to be married: becoming one flesh through the physical, sexual union. As Paul plainly states, this happens even when the couple is not committed to a marital relationship, like sexual relations with a prostitute.

The sin is in treating that union lightly, as not serious. Having sex and uniting as one with another without the commitment to live out that union abuses what God has joined together. It is like buying a Rembrandt painting so your kids can have something to color on: a total disregard for the meaning and value of what has been created.

The implications of this Biblical model are counter to our culture. For instance, the term premarital sex is a contradiction. There is no such concept, Biblically speaking. The moment you have sex, you’ve joined with that other person as one. It is getting married without the intention of fulfilling that life-long commitment that makes it sin. It is treating a marital sacrament as just another way to have fun that is the error. But no one can have sex before they get married. It is physically impossible.

This is why fornication when you are married is committing adultery and tearing asunder that union created by sex, as Jesus described it. It isn’t the bill of divorcement that makes it adultery, but the remarrying to another through sexual union. Likewise, each new sexual encounter involves tearing the previous bond asunder and forming a new one, committing adultery each time before ever getting legally married.

If we want our stories to be more realistic, Christian writers have an obligation to make them Biblically realistic, not secular realistic.

By so doing we can take the shame and dirty out of sex by countering secular values with Christian ones. We can run from secular sex scenes by running to the Biblical, marital sacrament. Sure, we can show people sinning by abusing sex, but at least we’ll know what they are abusing and the natural consequences that will follow as a result, and hopefully display also a healthy, Biblical sexual relationship.

The question is, can anyone name off any novels, Christian or otherwise, that reflect these Biblical values as described above? The choice isn’t between reflecting secular realism or nothing, but secular realism or Biblical realism.

I think as long as I write fiction, I’ll have questions about how much of my faith I should incorporate in my stories and how clear I should make what I believe. I don’t have the same uncertainties with writing reviews.

If a Christian writes a novel and incorporates something that is in opposition to Scripture, I think it’s appropriate for me as a reviewer to point this out—or at least question it. For example, I recently finished a middle grade story (not speculative) that had as one thread the return of an estranged parent. The child expressed fear, and the other parent gave reassurance by saying, You don’t have to worry because I’ll take care of you; I’ve already taken out a restraining order.

I have a hard time with that attitude, not because it isn’t realistic, but because the protagonist is portrayed, as is the parent, as a Christian who prays about problems and tries always to do what is right. So, in regard to the return of this parent, it seems odd to me and inconsistent that the author doesn’t at least introduce the subject of forgiveness.

Most Christians, it seems to me, understand our need to extend mercy to others, even those who have hurt us. We may not want to do it, and we may not end up doing it, but it ought to be a topic we wrestle with, at least.

In addition, if a character prays about less important things, why would they ignore prayer about perhaps the most hurtful experience in their life? If they depend on God to intervene in other matters of concern, why not trust Him in this event as well? But no. It is the other parent and the restraining order that will keep the child safe.

These inconsistencies are story problems, but they are also spiritual problems. They well might reflect the way real people live—all too often believers don’t live up to what we know we should do. But as a reviewer, I don’t have a problem pointing out both problems.

Christian writers need to raise our game, I think. We ought to reflect God’s truth as much as we reflect our culture, though portraying the former may be handled best by showing a character’s struggle to do right.

As a reviewer, then, I think it’s right for me to expect more of Christian words.

For example, if a novel depicts a Christian character who cheats on his wife, without showing that behavior as wrong, one way or the other, I’d have a problem with it. I don’t think it’s OK for a Christian character to behave in a way that contradicts the Bible and have his actions treated as normal, accepted, or unquestioned.

My standards for reviewing a work by a non-Christian are also based on Scripture. By and large, however, those stories aren’t showing Christian characters. Consequently, if the protagonist is motivated by revenge, and he never struggles with the need to forgive, I wouldn’t think that’s a great omission.

Rather, I’d believe the character is acting in a way that’s consistent with our society unless he’s been given a motive that sets him apart and communicates that his values are different from the general population. I certainly wouldn’t expect a non-Christian character to hold Christian standards.

At the same time, if I’m reviewing a work of fiction written by a non-Christian, and I’m using the Bible as my standard to evaluate the truth of what this work says or means, I wouldn’t expect Christian truths to be at the core, apart from the ways that those have served to undergird the values of our culture at large.

That doesn’t mean I may not see parallels with Scripture. I’ve used Star Wars as an example in the past, and I think it’s apropos again. When I first saw the movies, I didn’t know anything about George Lucas, and I wondered if he might be a Christian. I saw parallels between “the Force” and God. I also saw parallels with the church and the rebels in their struggle against the Empire. I wondered whether Luke Skywalker might be a Christ figure.

There came a time, though—when it was clear Darth Vader was Luke’s father—that I had to abandon my idea that this epic work was mirroring spiritual truth. I still loved those first stories, still understood God to be powerful, perhaps in a clearer way than I’d thought about Him before.

In other words, my realization that these movies were thoroughly pagan didn’t mean I couldn’t still learn from them, couldn’t understand truth in a deeper way, and couldn’t appreciate them as well-told stories.

Nevertheless, as a reviewer, even though I may also present the truth about God which I saw played out unintentionally on the screen, I have an obligation to point out the error, the sin, the false worldview.

My fear is that we Christians are slipping down the same path the people of Israel took. They had a relationship with God and they had His Law, but they wanted so to be like the nations around them. So they began to compromise.

They built high places, for instance, where they could worship God—a small departure from what God had told them about worshiping only in the place where His tabernacle (and later, His temple) would be set up. But that one step of compromise led to worshiping other gods as well as God Most High. And idol worship eventually led to child sacrifice. How far they fell!

We Christians can fall into this same kind of compromise. Well, the story mostly contradicts a Christian worldview, but there’s this one redeeming aspect, and besides, it had great acting and was really entertaining, and therefore I highly recommend everyone go see it. God and idols.

I suggest we do one major thing differently when we write reviews. I suggest we call idols, idols. We can praise what is good and revel in the emotional experience, even the spiritual experience, we had because of whatever redemptive aspect of the story hit us. But we must also state without compromise the lies the story tells about God and His ways.

Resurrection Sunday is this Sunday. I don’t expect it to be the only Resurrection celebration on our calendars for too long, eternally reckoning. After all, after the future Resurrection Day when Christ returns and raises His people to life, clothing them in a redeemed Spirit-empowered body rather than a sin-wracked body (1 Cor. 15), how would we celebrate such a day forever if not under the name Resurrection Day? I suspect we might keep the original Resurrection Sunday to refer to Christ’s original, once-for-all resurrection victory.

Either way, I can’t wait. I can’t wait for Resurrection Day, can’t wait for New Earth, can’t wait to have work/play be only rewarding and joyous forever, can’t wait to be free of sin and its consequences — can’t wait to see my Savior and live with Kingdom family forever.

You may notice I did not say, “I can’t wait for Heaven.” This isn’t because I take lightly the current Heaven, a literal location, likely outside our own dimension, to which all Christ’s people go when they die. Yet I think of the present-day Heaven like I think of the rest stops when my wife and I moved to Texas last fall. Those restaurants, stores and the hotel were welcome, but they were not our final destination; they were only waypoints. Our new home — that was the best part.

This kind of hope is sadly missed by movies such as Heaven Is For Real¹ and other books, sermons, and anecdotes that focus on the present-day Heaven² — as if that Heaven is where God’s people will live forever.

Near-death-experience controversies aside, the New Earth is even realer.

If you came for a Heaven Is For Real rebuttal, I am afraid I must disappoint and direct you to the excellent reviews by Randy Alcorn or Tim Challies, or this reminder by Wade Bearden at Christ and Pop Culture. This Resurrection Sunday I have no (further) criticisms of books that try to project Heaven’s wonders based on the word of people who say they won the golden ticket and a grand tour. Instead I feel mostly regret that these materials focus so much on the present-day heaven that will pass away just like the first Earth (Rev. 21:1). I regret that the kind of eternal hope they offer can become as fleeting as cheap utopianism — the kind that embraces this sinful age and promises we can build a kingdom our way.

Against either set of errors I want to cry: No more. Into hopelessness about life or stray notions about a tedious forever, I want to cry: No more. For those who may doubt the promises of Christ, who grieve over this groaning world and the sin and suffering in their lives, and who may have missed the wonder and magic of whatever God has promised for the final-and-forever After-world … Scripture itself in Revelation 21 vows: No more.

No more first heaven or first earth (verses 1–3)

The classic Betty Lukens Sunday-school flannelboard lesson is actually quite close to the truth — right up to and including the giraffes.

What Jesus did spiritually now becomes physical. God replaces the first heaven and first earth, now “passed away,” with their resurrected replacements. Yes, this groaning world (Rom. 8) passes away, but so does the first Heaven. Where then will God live? Where will we live? Heaven is where He lived and where the saints lived — now the Creator is the first to relocate His home to Earth (verse 2). “Now the dwelling of God is with man” (verse 3).

No more tears (verse 4)

Have you ever cried from an emotion that wasn’t grief? I have no doubt those tears will still be “allowed.” We may gaze into the face of Jesus and weep with joy. But the other tears, the kind that come from God-created tear ducts only during a sinful age, will be wiped away. Can you imagine no more weeping over separation, depression, pain, fatigue, hopelessness, anger over wickedness in yourself or others, or as any other response to sin and suffering?

No more death (verse 4)

Personified Death itself was hurled into Hell a few verses ago (Rev. 20:14). God’s people are beyond all that. What God fixed spiritually in Christ’s resurrection He now fixes physically and completely in our resurrection. His people are eternal. Imagine being set free not only from the spiritual concept of physical death but the threat of real death in everyday life.

No more mourning, crying, or pain (verse 4)

And imagine being set free from death’s consequences. No longer do we need to mourn over God’s people, dear spiritual and physical family members who had died; now they are here with us. Crying has expired. Pain has passed away. And after death itself dies, what in the world would this do to human culture? Entire mourning/crying/pain industries have also passed away. Doctors, nurses, funeral workers, morticians — all can joyously give up the tools they used to ease or bring closure to suffering (included insurance paperwork!) and pursue other callings. Lawyers? Gone, or they will find their professions transformed. Emergency workers? Their ministries are fulfilled. How will they use those skills in the Kingdom? We have all worked in the mourning-mitigation business — how would we?

No more thirst (verses 5–6)

Seated on the throne, God Himself, the Alpha and Omega who speaks only truth, promises for certain: those truly thirsty will receive “the spring of the water of life without payment.”

No more delayed victory; no more separation from God (verse 7)

Members of the Kingdom, all conquerors in Christ, “will have this heritage.” This is as close as you can get to hearing God Himself specifically say, “You have a part in this great Story. I promise you will forever know where you belong. In My Son you share in this victory.”

Moreover, as players in the Story our adoption is complete: we all function as sons of God. This isn’t gender-exclusive language — it’s inclusive. The Father himself says that anyone who conquers becomes an adopted son. Daughters are treated as sons, with all the rank and privilege that comes with that role as perceived by the first-century world. That’s huge.

No more cowards, faithlessness, detestable acts, murder, fornication, sorcery, idolaters, lies, and any other sin (verse 8)

This verse is often included in evangelistic pleas, and it should be. Even a boring-sounding Heaven would be better than a lake of eternal burning fire (a reality that is surely worse than Scripture’s already-horrifying descriptions would indicate). But New Earth is the most incredible, perfect, magical, wondrous place that could ever be conceived, ruled over by the most interesting and infinite Being beyond imagination. That makes the horror even worse.

Yet apart from that sobering truth, this text includes such hope for Christians. Perish all prideful notions that this is a guarantee text that Those People won’t be allowed in the Kingdom. In fact those people will be there — us. When we are beyond all those sins and love Jesus more, we ourselves will never again deal with cowardice, fear, sexual temptation, manipulative impulses (which lead to sorcery), idolatry, lies, or any other sin. All that has passed away. Our whole selves are made new. No more sinful self. Only Jesus Christ. Only His perfect, remade, purified, fantastic world set free: Resurrection Sunday, all over again.

The resurrection of Christ, which we will celebrate this coming Sunday, is the core teaching of the Christian faith. Upon this reality hangs every doctrine, belief, and truth of Christianity. As the Apostle Paul said:

If Christ hath not been raised, your faith is vain; ye are yet in your sins. Then they also that are fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If we have only hoped in Christ in this life, we are of all men most pitiable.
(1Co 15:17-19 ASV)

Note the link Paul gives between Christ being raised from the dead and our own hope of resurrection. Without Christ’s resurrection, we have no hope of leaving Hades and avoiding the fires of Hell into which Hades, and all within it, will be thrown into on the day of judgment. (Rev. 20:13-15)

The defeat of death, Hades, and the grave is what the resurrection of Christ accomplished. Likewise, the celebration is also known as The Harrowing of Hades.

For those not familiar, a harrow is a multipronged instrument used to plow the ground. To harrow something literally means to plow it up, or analogically, to disturb it.

Hades is known as the place of the dead. Our term actually comes from Greek mythology, as the Greek god Hades ruled the realm of the dead. In the Old Testament, it was called Sheol. Within its boarders, all who died, both the righteous and the wicked, were held, awaiting the final judgment. Death reigned over Adam and all his descendents until Christ.

The best scripture about Christ going to Hades and harrowing it is the Apostle Peter’s sermon on the day of Pentecost. Quoting from King David in Psalm 16, he says:

Because thou wilt not leave my soul unto Hades, Neither wilt thou give thy Holy One to see corruption. Thou madest known unto me the ways of life; Thou shalt make me full of gladness with thy countenance.

Brethren, I may say unto you freely of the patriarch David, that he both died and was buried, and his tomb is with us unto this day. Being therefore a prophet, and knowing that God had sworn with an oath to him, that of the fruit of his loins he would set one upon his throne; he foreseeing this spake of the resurrection of the Christ, that neither was he left unto Hades, nor did his flesh see corruption.

This Jesus did God raise up, whereof we all are witnesses.
(Act 2:27-32 ASV)

One of my favorite liturgical text personifies Hades. Hades swallowed Christ, got a really bad case of indigestion from the Giver of Life, and ended up vomiting out all the righteous.

Death was plowed with Life.

Sounds fantastical? Far fetched? Like something out of a novel I or any number of people might make up? To our modern and skeptical world, yeah. But there is one big difference between when we create and when God creates.

When we speculate, it becomes a story. When God speculates, it becomes reality.

This is the hope we celebrate this week: Christ entered death and Hades, plowed life into it, flung open its gates through His resurrection so that we too might rise in newness of life.

As Jesus comforted John upon seeing Him in His glory:

Fear not; I am the first and the last, and the Living one; and I was dead, and behold, I am alive for evermore, and I have the keys of death and of Hades.
(Rev 1:17b-18 ASV)

So fear not! Rejoice! For Christ has become our Passover Lamb. If we smear His blood over the doorpost of our hearts and souls, death will pass over us as well.

He has the keys to Hades.

I’ve long contended that Christians can and should include spiritual truth—theology, if you will—in our stories. At the same time, I believe truth about God ought to open up our imaginations as we grasp the ramifications of a world ruled by a sovereign God who can do the impossible.

We also have an infallible, Spirit-inspired revelation of God’s work in the world from the beginning of creation. Why, then, don’t we Christian speculative writers more often take what we know from the Bible and speculate on what the world might look like?

I know, some have. We’ve certainly seen a good deal of speculation about angels and demons and Nephilim. But I’m thinking, for example, more along the lines of what the world as a whole once looked like in light of what Genesis says.

Some writers, such as Brian Godawa, have taken particular people from the pages of Scripture and speculated about their lives and the world in which they live. That’s not quit what I’m suggesting, though. Rather, I’m wondering if we couldn’t imagine the world the way the Bible describes it, and use that as a basis for our stories.

For instance, what would the world look like if people lived to be 900 years old? How would that affect society? What might a person be able to learn in 900 years? Stories with this idea as a basis wouldn’t be Biblical fiction. They would be utilizing a fact Scripture revealed as once true of our world.

Here are a few others: What did the world look like that caused God to say, “Nothing which they purpose to do will be impossible for them”? What would the world have been like with one language? With only one large land mass? What would it be like to live in a temperate climate year round, with no rain?

What would it be like to hear God’s voice? To have Him warn against sin crouching at the door, to have Him ask, Where’s your brother?

What would it be like to have the earth divide into continents? To have someone violate God’s created order and take a second wife? To have someone live a righteous life and to disappear because he’d been taken away by God?

Understand, I’m not actually advocating for more speculative Biblical fiction. Rather, I’m suggesting that the Bible shows us things that are beyond the accepted norm. However, instead of using those in our stories, we tend to accept what we learn from secular history books and scientific theory, and make the secular norm the groundwork for what we write.

Consequently, since archaeology has no evidence of an advanced early civilization that aimed to reach the heavens, and science theorizes that early man was primitive, having evolved from apes, we Christians think within those boxes rather than beyond them to the world pictured in Scripture.

Oh, sure, we may stand against the ape idea, but we still have early man living in primitive circumstances as Stephan Lawhead does in his imaginative and thought-provoking Bright Empires series.

But what if God’s creation of humans in His image meant that we had a greater capacity to think and create than we have now. I mean ten times greater. Or a hundred times greater?

What if humans could communicate with the animals? God gave Adam and Eve dominion over the rest of creation, after all. How were they to exercise this dominion if they essentially lived separate lives from the animals?

I’ll admit, some of my thinking on this topic has been sparked by how reviewers have reported the way the Noah movie depicted life on earth.

To be clear, I’ll say again, I don’t think we need a flood of new speculative Biblical fiction—a Christian version of Noah, for instance. That seems to be the knee-jerk reaction to things we Christians don’t like that come from secular pop-culture.

Rather, I’d like to see our approach to fiction broaden. I’d like to see us take the Bible seriously and ask more what if questions about Biblical history rather than secular history or scientific theory.

I’ll move my examples out of Genesis. Psalm 18, written by David, has an incredible verse about God’s response to David’s prayer for protection:

The the earth shook and quaked;
And the foundations of the mountains were trembling
And were shaken, because He was angry. (v 7)

What would the world be like if God answered every prayer by His people with that kind of judgment? What would that do to humankind’s understanding of Him? How would such a world be different from the one shown by the Greeks?

Maybe I’ve not read widely enough and Christians are writing these types of stories. If that’s the case, I hope readers will leave comments with the titles and authors of books that speculate grandly about the world the Bible shows.

Too often, however, when I see speculation about the world the Bible reveals, it revolves around something like half-angels.

It seems to me, those stories aren’t really using the world of the Bible but speculating about what would be if the world of the Bible was different from its revealed existence. That’s one type of speculation, certainly, and it does require imagination. But why aren’t we Christian writers doing more when we have such great source material?

The generations of nerds: the Reinis.

My wife, Becky, and I didn’t set out to raise a family of nerds. But perhaps it was inevitable, given our personal affinity for geek culture. We did, after all, grow up in the Seventies during the golden age of Original Star Wars, and our courtship included reading the entirety of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ John Carter series together.

So, yes, we were nerds back when being a nerd wasn’t cool. Maybe it still isn’t, but please don’t tell our adult children. In validation of both nature and nurture, they never really had a choice in the matter.

But, as I said, we didn’t set out to indoctrinate our children in geekdom. In fact, in our early days of parenthood, we faced some interesting theological and practical parenting decisions. While we desperately wanted our children to be able to appreciate a masterpiece like The Empire Strikes Back, we had to prayerfully consider this: Did our love for sci-fi line up with our love for Christ? Did the somewhat “new-agey” worldview of George Lucas, et al., line up with scriptural teachings? And most importantly, as Christian parents, were we comfortable introducing our children to those elements?

At first, we weren’t. For family entertainment, we turned, instead, to Christian-based dramas like Adventures in Odyssey. (Fantastic, intricate nerd-level storytelling in its own right, it turned out.) Rather than watching television, we read books—a LOT of books—out loud as a family. The kids grew up on a steady diet of Stevenson, Twain, Lewis, and Ingalls-Wilder. It’s not that we had some grand master plan—we were just doing the best we could at the time. But without realizing it—or even having a clue as to what we were doing—we ended up inadvertently planting a seed, sowing a love for a well-told story that would bring our entire family a tremendous amount of joy in years to come, along with countless two a.m. rants about why Pixar is infinitely better than Dreamworks.

For our children, the rules changed one night when we left them in the care of a trusted baby sitter. Looking for some entertainment, he pulled a VHS copy of Star Wars off the shelf.  (No, we hadn’t thrown it away—we were young parents, not idiots.)  The kids knew it wasn’t something we let them watch, so of course they were apprehensive—and mesmerized.

Two second-generation Reinis in full nerd mode.

When we discovered this grievous infraction of our house rules, we were more relieved than upset. We began to realize that our children were getting older and their ability to process the difference between fantasy and reality had matured, as had our own personal faith. We weren’t so much afraid of “hurting” our kids with exposure to alternative worldviews as we were excited to see them applying critical thinking to allegories, morality plays, and studies of good versus evil. But who are we kidding? We were mostly excited to be introducing a new generation—our children—to the characters, the stories, and the genres that we had grown up loving.

We had no way of knowing at the time how much this nerdy interaction would permeate and bless every element of our family life. One night, I overheard our four year old humming the Trench Run passage from the Star Wars score, exactly, note for intricate note. He, his brother, and his sister, would all go on to become all-state vocalists in choir and small groups. We would listen, with great joy, as they would passionately debate and prove, empirically, that The Empire Strikes Back is the best Star Wars film, and that, while the prequels were bad, it was the “Special” Editions that were the greater sin against everything good and holy. As a family, we probably drove friends and relatives crazy with inside jokes—every other sentence between us a quote or reference from a film or novel. All of this just served to draw us closer as a family. None of the kids was ever in serious trouble (to our knowledge), they were always well behaved (in public), they all, as adults, still love to spend time together, and yes, the inside jokes and references still dominate every conversation.

Aaron and Allen Reini, coauthors of Flight of the Angels.

So, we are proud to have raised a family of self-professed nerds. We’re proud of the adults, and the people of faith, that they have become. We’re proud that all four (and spouses) are actively involved in ministry, and I am proud to have co-authored a sci-fi novel with our eldest.

But perhaps our greatest joy has come from seeing the impact this life has had on the next generation. Becky and I remember the day we were babysitting, and our six-year-old granddaughter walked into the room, DVD in hand.

“Papa,” she asked, “Can we watch Star Wars? We want to watch this one. It’s the good one.”

I could have wept.

She was holding The Empire Strikes Back.

Christian Fiction has often been accused of being so agenda/message driven that story quality suffers. Michael Trimmer quotes author Mike Duran in the Christian Today article, “What’s Wrong With Christian Fiction”:

Christians are so desirous to get the gospels out there, that we tolerate mediocrity. I think that does a disservice to the gospel. We tolerate mediocrity for the sake of the message.

He is probably right in many cases, but because of that, the solution often tends to be to get rid of the message to improve quality. But it’s not that simple. It isn’t the presence of an agenda that is the problem.

Agenda-driven fiction has a long history and not by just Christians.

There are college classes offered on how to use the arts in getting the message out about “climate change,” as reported in the New York Times article, “College Classes Use Arts to Brace for Climate Change.”

Whether you agree with “climate change” claims or not, the article list fiction titles going back into the 60s that focused on climate change. The article ends on the following quote:

“In this sense,” he (Shane Hall) said, “climate change itself is a form of story we have to tell.”

Sums up what most Christian writers would say about the Gospel.

That is just one example. How often did the Star Trek TV series illustrate an agenda, both the original series and The Next Generation? The list could go on.

The answer isn’t to get rid of our messages. The real problem comes in two areas.

One: Treating Fiction Like Non-fiction

This is the cause of Mike Duran’s concern above. What do I mean by it? I’ve mentioned it in a guest post many months ago on SpecFaith and most recently last week in talking about the dynamic behind the debate on the movie Noah.

Stories in non-fiction, whether true or made-up, exist to serve one main purpose: to illustrate a point in an emotionally engaging manner. The story does not exist for its own sake, but is subservient to the message being conveyed. Consequently, the stories tend to be simple, black and white realities that make a clear, unambiguous point. They don’t want the reader to wonder, “Hum, I wonder what he meant to say?”

Christians who write fiction often make the mistake of treating their story as an expanded, non-fiction illustration. As a result, characterization tends to be shallow. Plots exist to drive the reader to one conclusion. Anything like real-life ambiguities that would muddy the message are avoided.

This in direct opposition to what Jesus did. He didn’t give illustrations to make a point. He taught in parables. He was fine letting the hearer figure out the meaning for themselves. He didn’t offer conclusions/interpretations except to the disciples. He trusted that those who were ready to hear the truth, would.

When we move into fiction stories, the purpose of the book can no longer be to illustrate a truth as in non-fiction. Rather, it is to experience the truth lived out in real life. Even if that real life is in the future, past, or a fantasy world.

In fiction, the message and the story take on a symbiotic relationship.

The message, to be effective, is dependent upon the story to have the ring of authenticity to it. To be an engaging, emotionally impacting, and entertaining story. If the quality of the story fails here, few will experience the message lived out.

For the story to amount to more than a good time, but to have meat on its bones, requires a living message/theme running through it. The stories that impact us most are those that open our eyes to see truth lived out in a character, and then in us as well. Any book, no matter how entertaining, that doesn’t say something to us, is quickly forgotten.

Two: Getting Sucked into the Niche Whirlpool

Overt agenda-driven, non-fiction, illustration-styled fiction stories, Christian or not, are primarily red meat for the faithful of that niche. Few outside that niche care to read it. The above “climate change” books and films highlight that. Few who disagree with their agenda are going to plunk down money to partake of that story.

The overwhelming majority of people who will enjoy those stories are those who already agree with them.

This is the irony of the Christian whirlpool effect. The drive to present as clear and unambiguous of a Gospel message as possible ensures few who are not already saved and in the fold will ever read it. The tighter into the niche it falls, the less chance it has of transcending that niche to become truly evangelistic. The story gets sucked into the niche whirlpool.

By creating a symbiotic relationship between story and message, the story can gain a following and those who have ears to hear and eyes to read will get the message. For that to happen requires them getting lost in a world and characters to the point they live the message through them.

The more the quality of the story supports the goal of fiction instead of non-fiction, the more likely that story will change someone’s life.

Agenda fiction is not the issue. Tossing the message is not the answer. Reading stories that marinate us in truth experienced through characters is the goal.

The Horned King, Lord Foul, Sauron, the White Witch. Fantasy literature is ripe with supreme antagonists who fight against good, in the same that Satan fights against God. Unless it’s my imagination, however, we’re seeing less of Satan in Christian speculative fiction. His minions still make frequent appearances, but he’s not as visible as he once was.

As it happens, this trend mirrors society. Fewer and fewer people in the West, including Christians, believe Satan exists. According to a 2009 survey conducted by the Barna group, only 35% of those professing Christ also believe Satan is a real person:

Four out of ten [self-described] Christians (40%) strongly agreed that Satan “is not a living being but is a symbol of evil.” An additional two out of ten Christians (19%) said they “agree somewhat” with that perspective. A minority of Christians indicated that they believe Satan is real by disagreeing with the statement: one-quarter (26%) disagreed strongly and about one-tenth (9%) disagreed somewhat. The remaining 8% were not sure what they believe about the existence of Satan. (“Most American Christians Do Not Believe that Satan or the Holy Spirit Exist,” emphasis mine)

How convenient for him. It’s hard to fight an enemy you can’t see and even harder to fight one you think is merely a symbol of the wrongs of the world.

A more recent, 2013 survey shows the number of Americans who believe in Satan to be somewhat higher than the Barna Group’s findings, though what these people mean by “Satan” is not defined.

The survey by YouGov found that 57 percent of respondents believe that the devil exists . . . Sixty-three percent of people with a high school education said they believe in the evil spirit compared to 48 percent of college graduates. (“Majority of Americans believe in the devil – especially Republicans, blacks and women”)

Even those who believe in a real devil may not have an understanding of him that’s consistent with Scripture. Apart from the red tights, horns, and pitchfork, a popular notion of Satan is that he is the ruler of hell. In contrast, the Bible teaches that hell is the place God will send Satan as punishment for his rebellion.

What Satan is up to, what he’s trying to accomplish, remains under a greater cloud of confusion. Culture has him pictured as an evil influencer, the worst side of our nature, the one behind demon possession. These contain some truth but are limited in scope. Satan’s great goal from the beginning has been to overthrow God’s rule. In other words, he’s a rebel who wants to take God’s place.

His first strategy after his removal from heaven along with the angels who followed him remains his greatest ploy—to wrest God’s creation from His control. Hence, his temptation of Eve in the Garden continues to be his greatest temptation of us today. In short, Satan calls into question God’s word. His question to Eve was, “Indeed, has God said, ‘You shall not eat from any tree of the garden’?” (Gen. 3:1b). His question to us today is, Does the Bible really mean . . .

In the same way that Satan attacks God by questioning His word, he calls into question who Jesus is, the One who Scripture identifies as God’s Logos or Word (John 1:14). Not a coincidence, I don’t think, that Satan is called the father of lies. His “chief end,” if you will, is to distort God’s truth.

God’s creation, for example, was good, by His own testimony. So Satan perverted it. God says He loves the world so much He gave His only Son. Satan says God actually is an unjust tyrant or an uncaring, distant force or an impotent bystander or irrelevant or nonexistent—certainly not a Lover of the souls He created.

Above all Satan wants people to shrink their view of God. That’s his great lie: God is not so great after all.

The corollary that accompanies that lie suggests God’s creatures are worthy of worship. Satan tried to bargain with Jesus for His worship, which is the epitome of what he wants. But he also suggests humans do the same thing. Hence he told Eve if she ate of the forbidden fruit she would be like God.

That temptation is with us today in the relativistic interpretations of Scripture. By isolating verses from the whole, the Bible can be made to say whatever a person wants it to say—resulting in precisely the kind of “Did God say . . .” questioning Satan introduced to Eve, and the “you are God” control he suggested.

Satan, of course, also stands against the Church of God and particularly against the spread of the gospel. He fights to prevent answers to prayer, puts obstacles in the path of those preaching God’s Word, gives thorns in the flesh, encourages believers to lie to the Holy Spirit, accuses the brethren before God, and is behind false teaching in the Church. He is, after all, prowling like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.

It’s a little troubling to me, then, that Satan, who is not equal to God but is surely opposite, has taken a back seat in much of our Christian speculative literature. Yes, demonic forces or their equivalent serve as antagonists, though corrupt or evil humans seem more prevalent. But Satan? Off hand, I can only think of one series that has a credible White Witch to oppose its Aslan. But perhaps I’m forgetting others or have missed reading them. Or perhaps we’re not writing about Satan because we no longer believe in him. What do you think?

Captives, a young adult dystopian fantasy, is the first in the Safe Lands series.

Chapter

1

June 2088

Father invaded Mason’s bedroom like a hornet. He yanked the psychology textbook from Mason’s hands and tossed it on the floor. “You hear me calling for Omar, boy? Stop wasting time, and go find your broher. And don’t take all day doing it.”

“Yes, sir.” Avoiding eye contact, Mason jumped off his bed and darted into the dark hallway, heading for the front of the house. He had indeed heard his father bellowing Omar’s name. But since it was Omar’s name and not his own, Mason had made the logical assumption that the solicitation was not for him. But such logic had never been Father’s companion.

Father’s footsteps clomped behind him, and Mason walked faster, not wanting to become the focus of Father’s anger. Three more steps to the door . . .

“Now that Levi’s getting married, it’s your turn.”

This announcement stopped Mason completely. He turned around in the living room, glanced at his mother, who stood at the kitchen table, drying jars for canning, then looked at his father. “Me marry? Now? I’m only seventeen.”

“Why wait?”

“Because there’s no one I feel particularly drawn to in Glenrock or Jack’s Peak.”

“No matter,” Father said. “I’ve made arrangements with Mia’s mother.”

Mason felt as if his father had slammed him into a brick wall. He glanced at his mother, but she turned her head back to the jars before he could make eye contact. “Father, there’s no sense in my marrying Mia. I’d be more compatible with any other girl, in fact. We should exhaust all options before making such a rash pairing.”

“Everyone else is too young.”

“I can wait.”

“Mia needs a husband. Her mother needs a son.” Father shrugged. “No reason to wait.”

“But she and I would be terrible together. We’re not even friends.”

“Focus on her pretty face.” Father slapped Mason on the back and stepped toward the front door. “Now stop arguing, and go find your brother. I may have managed to marry him off as well, but it’s no good if I can’t find him. And I don’t want to keep Elsu waiting. Need to leave now if I want to get to Jack’s Peak in time.”

Mason stared at the open door, listening to Father’s footsteps pound across the porch, down the steps, and crunch across the rocky path that led to the village square. His cheeks burned with fury over the nonsense of Mia becoming his wife. “I don’t want to marry Mia. I won’t.”

“Mason,” his mother said, “you’re smart enough to find a way to make this work.”

“But she despises me. And from what I gather from the books Levi brought me, and from my observations here in Glenrock, marriage is difficult enough when the pair have strong affections for one another. I don’t want a future of misery for myself or for Mia.”

“It’s been two years since Mia’s mother lost her husband. This marriage will mend the hole in their family. They’ll have a man in their home again.”

He stared at her. “But Mother, I will never love Mia.” He couldn’t even force himself to like her.

“Since when has love ever been important to your father? He values strength. Show your strength by making this work.” Mother went back to drying the jars. “You’d best go find your brother before your father catches you dawdling.”

Mason pushed out the front door into the afternoon heat and crossed the porch in three steps. He jumped off the side and kept moving, the wild grass and flowers tickling his bare feet. Grazer’s claws scraped over the plank porch as he dog chased after him and was soon bounding alongside.

Mason leaned over to scratch behind Grazer’s ears. “Where’s Omar, huh, boy? Go fetch Omar.”

The dog panted and squinted his eyes, in no apparent hurry to lend assistance. Mason swallowed the tightness in his throat.

Mia? Really?

* * *</style?

Glenrock consisted of a dozen log homes scattered in a forest of pine around the village square's clearing. Their house faced the entrance road that ended at a roundabout in front of the square and the meeting hall. On the distant road, Father was a mere puff of dust as he headed up the mountain trail to meet Elsu.

Mason strode toward the hall, his gaze sweeping over the village, searching for the Old Colorado State Patrol hat his little brother Omar always wore. The sun lit the square and illuminated billions of dust motes. This was the time of day when everyone tried to remain indoors to keep cool, and Mason saw no one else besides his older brother Levi and Levi's friend Jordan.

Both were sitting on their ATVs, which were parked in front of an elevated plank stage. Levi and Jemma's engagement celebration would happen tonight on this stage, and members of the village would sit on the long, split-log benches that surrounded he area and cheer he future union. All hail perfect Levi and his perfect fiancée, the future elders of Glenrock.

Mason had on desire for perfection. But . . . Mia?

He walked toward the stone ire pit at the center of the square and soon was close enough that he could hear Levi and Jordan mumbling. Mason wasn’t surprised they didn’t acknowledge him. Typical behavior for the heir to the patriarchy of Glenrock and his loyal adherent.

With a long breath, Mason entered the meeting hall, which was easily ten degrees cooler than outside. Jemma, Jordan’s sister and Levi’s intended, was decorating tables with wildflowers. Some of the younger boys were playing a scavenged Old video game on the television in the far corner. No sign of Omar.

“Hi, Mason.” Jemma looked up from the flowers and smiled. “How are you today?”

“Fine. Looking for Omar.” Unlike most people, when Jemma asked, “How are you?” she truly wanted to know. But if Mason had answered truthfully, Jemma would insist on more information. And Mason had no time for Jemma’s compassion today. “Have you seen him?”

“Not since he harvest field this morning,” she said. “I hope you find him. Levi says your father might have made him a match.”

“Yes, well, my father and Levi’s enthusiasm in this matter only enforces my skepticism.”

“Mason.” After staring at the centerpiece for a moment, Jemma pulled a mule’s ear from her hand and threaded the flower into the arrangement. “You should be happy for Omar. Getting married would be wonderful for him.”

“I’m not unhappy. I simply see no point in celebrating that which has not yet taken place.”

Jemma practically sang her reply. ” ‘You can nearly always enjoy things if you make up your mind firmly that you will.’ ”

Mason frowned, pondering her words. “That’s not yours, is it?”

“Anne of Green Gables, on of my favorite Old books. And Anne is right. So go find Omar so you can celebrate.”

Mason left without offering a reply and made his way back across the square to the stage. He suspected his brother would have many baffling encounters with his new bride. How women could find joy in the marriage of complete strangers, Mason would never understand.

The ATVs now sat empty. Levi and Jordan sood on opposite sides of the stage, throwing a little ball to one another so fast it passed through the air as a blur of red.

“Find Omar yet?” Levi asked, walking toward Mason and pitching the ball at Jordan.

Mason stopped in front of Levi. “I thought I’d check the square again, but the only ones out here are you two not helping me.”

Jordan flung the ball, and it bounced off the side of Levi’s head.

“Ow, you maggot!” Levi chased after the ball and tossed it back at Jordan, who was laughing so hard he barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

“Forget Omar. Let’s take Mason instead.” Jordan threw the ball over the stage.

“Levi ducked, letting it fly past the side of the meeting hall. He slouched and sighed, hands on his hips the way Father did when he was disappointed. “Mason’s not a good trade.”

“I’m standing right here,” Mason said.

Jordan ran around the stage. “No, listen. They’re all about nature and healing up in Jack’s peak. They’d love Mason. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about him messing with my wife.”

“Jordan,” Levi said. “I mean that Mason is too valuable to trade.”

“I never imposed upon anyone’s wife,” Mason said. “And what happened last week had nothing to do with yours. Cody gave Mother, a doctor, permission to allow me, her assistant, to observe his wife’s labor process for educational purposes.”

“For edu — Well, you’re never going to educate my wife, let alone observe her.”

“Your comment is backward,” Mason said. “And it was for my education, not–”

“You’re backward.”

“I won’t belabor my point.” Mason started to walk away. He might have to take his father’s abuse, but he didn’t have to take it from Jordan.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Jordan yelled.

“Not surprising,” Mason said.

As he stretched the distance between him and the square, Mason heard Jordan ask Levi, “Did he just insult me?”

Mason chuckled and whistled for Grazer, wondering where the dog had gone of to. Jordan wasn’t the only man in Glenrock who disliked Mason training to be a doctor. The village doctor had always been a woman. Mason found their fears ridiculous and insulting. Some of the women went hunting, and no one treated them any differently.

He passed by Mia’s house. The house that would become his if Father got his way. Women’s clothing hung on the line in back. A flower garden ran along the side of the house, and bees buzzed softly as they drank nectar. Mason walked a little faster, entered the forest, and continued down the river path, scanning for his brother. Grazer returned to Mason’s side, head down, sniffing the ground.

Mason and Grazer traversed all of Glenrock in their search for Omar, the dog nibbling grass at each stop. They passed by the waterwheel and the generator as it purred along. They searched the garden and greenhouse, doubled back to the smokehouses where Omar sometimes sketched from the rooftops, checked the kissing trees and the outhouses, cut through the woods and the graveyard, co=rossed the cattle field, and finally walked out of the village.

No Omar. And no clue to his whereabouts.

– – – – –

You may read the Prologue to Captives and the rest of Chapter 1 at Christianbook. You can obtain a copy from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Christianbook, or wherever books are sold.

View a short trailer of the novel.