Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

And no, I’m not apologizing for missing another posting date. Although I did and I am sorry. I wish I could make an excuse like I’m a Time Lord who finds the concept of linear calendars and keeping dates unnatural and abhorrent. I mean, the Doctor keeps forcing Amy Pond to be the Girl Who Waited, and I…

Nope, sorry, got off on a tangent there. Back to my apology.

I recently engaged in some not-Christian geeky behavior and I feel the need to bare my soul and confess my sins. And since I can’t reach the person I wronged directly, I figured I’d do it on this blog. So here goes.

Ben Affleck, I’m sorry.

Let me back up a little. My brother-in-law always goes to ComicCon every year. When he does, we’ll occasionally get phone calls from him when he learns new information about something geeky. So when it was announced that the second Avengers movie was going to be “The Age of Ultron,” he called us immediately to share the news. The same thing happened when they announced that the Man of Steel sequel was going to have Batman in it as well.

When I heard that news, I was stoked. Batman is by far my favorite superhero. The idea of him showing up with Superman on the big screen would be fantastic. But naturally, that raised the question: who would don the cape and cowl?

Speculating ran wild for weeks. And then, the announcement was made. It was going to be Ben Affleck.

And then the Internet exploded in a maelstrom of unrestrained nerd-rage.

Ben Affleck? You mean the guy who starred in that cinematic abomination, Daredevil? That Ben Affleck? Whose dumb idea was that? rage rage rage, grumble grumble grumble

I got caught up in it too. When I saw the news, I posted it to my Facebook wall with the comment, “Really? REALLY?!?! … really?” I even attempted to poke a little fun at the news on my author page. I had this sinking feeling that this casting decision was going to scuttle not only what could have been a fantastic movie, but any possibility of a Justice League movie too.

But then…

But then some friends reminded me that Ben Affleck has starred in and directed some pretty good movies lately, meaning that he’s grown since he last portrayed a superhero. They also reminded me that the geek world experienced a similar explosion when Heath Ledger was cast as the Joker, and look at how well that turned out. One friend asked a valid question: “How can you judge a movie that hasn’t even had one frame shot yet?”

And I bristled at the correction because, well, DAREDEVIL! It’s Ben Affleck, for crying out loud!

And yet, this morning, as I thought about it, I realized how uncharitable I was being. And, dare I say it, perhaps un-Christian as well? I was led into some deep theological consideration (well, maybe not that deep. We’re talking a superhero movie here), and it made me ask the titular question.

Can geeks be good Christians? Or do our natural tendencies make it difficult?

Over the next few weeks, I’ll be examining that question from a few different angles. For now, let me ask you: what was your reaction to the Ben Affleck casting news?

What a lot of fun this Summer Writing Challenge has been. Thank you to all who entered–a total of twenty-seven eligible pieces. And thanks to all who gave a thumbs-up response so we could pared down the offerings to the top three. Finally, special thanks to those of you who took the time to comment. Your feedback makes this challenge a win for the writers no matter how many thumbs they received.

So, without any further comments, here are the top three entries, followed by the poll. Please choose the one piece you think is the winner of the 2013 Summer Writing Challenge and vote. Selections are randomized so they may not appear in the order presented below.

– – – – –

Entry by Austin Gunderson

Afraid? Bri couldn’t say she was exactly afraid. What a funny question. The supersonic freight train wouldn’t crush them for another seventeen seconds. Her new contact must be a paranoid sort; judging by the proportion of time he’d spent glancing over his shoulder, his head might’ve been screwed on backward. Bri rolled her eyes, tossed back her hair, and extended a hand. “Don’t worry about the mop-up crew. They might not be aiming for us, but they can’t miss. Just upload the package.”

The man faced her and, with a nervous shrug, yanked off his right glove. Bri had expected to grasp a sweaty, trembling palm, but the fingers which engulfed her own were pleasantly dry and firm. That was the first red flag — one too many. Bri tried to snatch her hand back, but the man simply kicked her in the shins and was suddenly the only thing holding her upright.

Seven seconds left.

The man slid a fingertip down his narrow implant from elbow to wrist, and Bri shuddered as the upload commenced. Then she screamed. All she could see was blue. The package was a Trojan. Her scream choked off as motor functions abruptly stalled.

By the time the train passed, Bri had lost the ability to sense its sonic boom. She knew she’d been hauled clear of its path only because she was still alive.

This could not have gone any worse.

– – – – –

Entry by Shannon McDermott

Afraid? Bri couldn’t say she was exactly afraid. Nervous, maybe. But not afraid.

Exactly.

She willed her heartbeat to steady and looked at the man across the desk. His oversized frame pressed into the soft chair, and his eyes – blind and bright – stared past her, as if he could see through the walls to the ends of the earth.

Bri didn’t know in what trackless regions he wandered; she didn’t want to. No one really knew what he did, alone in his blank office without even a computer. But they said that those he chose always won.

His head turned toward her, a soft but ponderous movement that made her nerves skitter. “So. You want to go to New Mashhad.”

Bri nodded, straightening to her small height. “I can fool all the watchers.”

He didn’t answer, just rested his heavy blue gaze on her until her heart raced. She wondered what he saw – a young, gingery agent, or just a skinny little girl who thought, for some reason, that she could play with fire and not be burned?

“You will fool them once and twice.” His low voice broke like distant thunder. “The third time, nothing is sure.” He pointed to the door. “Go.”

– – – – –

Entry by haywireproductions

Afraid? Bri couldn’t say she was exactly afraid. This was her purpose in life: the reason they created her. But what if she failed? One flick of the wrist out of time could bring the whole realm of nature against them.
The first of her kind, Bri knew she was not so much an experiment or a prototype, but the last card in the deck. Without her, everything they’d built so far would be for naught; a wrong movement meant the whole structure would topple.
“Artess Bri? Shall we begin?”

Okay, so maybe she was afraid.

The Watcher led her out onto the platform. A precarious precipice for her people, this place would presently become either blessed or cursed for all time.
She took a deep breath as the sun set, lifted her arms, and began the delicate dance designed only for her.

– – – – –

The poll will be open through Monday, September 2 (closes midnight, Pacific time). Please share this post and encourage your friends to stop by and vote. The winner will be announced next Tuesday.

In essence, when I wrote “Christian Speculative Fiction And Intellectual Rigor,” my Spec Faith post last week, I addressed what I believe intellectual rigor is not. It is not writing in such an obtuse way that only brainiacs can understand. It is not utilizing a story structure–and by implication, I intended to say, any other artistic device, even realism–that confounds meaning. It is not valuing how a story is told over what a story means.

Only at the end of my article did I touch upon what I believe intellectual rigor, when it comes to fiction, actually entails: significance. In saying this, however, I need to qualify this point as I did in my last post. We are still talking about stories, not essays or sermons or non-fiction books. I believe a piece of fiction will not be significant unless it is a good piece of fiction.

Consequently, all parts of a story need to be given due attention. Characters need to be crafted in such a way that they are believable and realistic. They should be properly motivated and should develop in natural ways as a result of the circumstances of the plot. The events themselves should unfold in organic ways, one thing causing another in an understandable and logical manner. The setting also should be textured and fully developed.

But ultimately, the first three key story elements do not exist for themselves. They exist for the sake of the fourth, less conspicuous element: theme. All good stories say something. They have a point. After all, writing is a form of communication. Fiction writers, therefore, are making a statement, but they do so by showing rather than by telling.

It is this statement, this theme, I believe Christian writers must pay closer attention to, without diminishing our efforts in regard to characters, plot, or worldbuilding.

First, our themes need to square with Scripture. This point is perhaps the most complex issue for the Christian. Some writers sacrifice theme for the sake of art. However, the most artfully told story that says something untrue is nothing more than an artful lie.

Some readers, and as a result, some writers, may become enamored with the beauty of the language, the depth of the characters, the realism of the world, or the intrigue of the plot. But a lie is still a lie. Good art will not only be beautiful but truthful.

On the other hand, some writers, and perhaps readers, confuse other elements of a story with theme. For example, I recently read one believer’s opinion that anything not squaring with the way God created the world, should not be in our fiction. Consequently, elves and hobbits and aliens and talking animals should be outside the realm of permissible Christian fiction.

Certainly I believe the Bible, and I believe a Christian’s fiction should square with the Bible. Does that mean every story must show truth in every aspect throughout? I suggest it does not. Stories in the Bible itself can best demonstrate this point.

In one of Jesus’s parables about prayer, He equates God with an unjust judge. Was He in fact teaching that God is unjust? Certainly not. That concept clearly contradicts any number of other passages of Scripture. The point of Jesus’s parable, however, was true.

In a story told by an Old Testament figure, trees were looking for a king, asking first one, then another to reign. The idea that trees talk and can organize a government contradicts what we know as reality: trees aren’t sentient. The point of the story, however, was accurate, even prophetic.

First and foremost, intellectually rigorous Christian fiction should deliver a Biblically true theme.

In addition, our themes need to be important to our audience. In this regard I agree with the intent of the commenter who criticized my post last week by saying, “Lewis engaged with and responded to (literary) Modernism, and I’ve yet to see anyone engage with Postmodernism in a way that looks genuine.”

The Christian understands that nothing matters in life as much as our relationship to God. Consequently, the MOST important theme, on the surface, is the one that presents Jesus Christ as Savior and Redeemer.

The problem, however, is that in our postmodern culture, many people believe Humankind is born good, or at worst, a blank slate. There is no need for a Savior, in this way of thinking, because there is no sin from which to be saved.

People influenced by postmodernism also believe in relativism and are apt to oppose authoritarianism. The idea of God as a judge condemning people to an eternal destiny in hell or as an all-powerful sovereign who allows suffering, grates against their moral understanding.

The Christian writer who offers Jesus as the answer in a “come to Jesus” type story is actually offering gold to a thirsty man. The giver of gold will appear to be foolish, even though he knows what he is offering will provide Everlasting Water and is precisely what the thirsty need. The thirsty man, however, will curse him for his insensitivity and look elsewhere for something to drink.

Intellectual rigor in fiction, I believe, means bridging the gap between what our culture perceives to be their needs and what Scripture says each of us actually needs. Sometimes that requires stories that don’t present Christ, at least not overtly and not even allegorically.

Instead, stories may need to challenge the postmodern assumption that there are many ways rather than one true way. They may need to challenge the assumption that seeking without expecting to find is wisdom, that God is mystery and therefore unknowable apart from whatever each individual perceives him to be. They may need to challenge the belief that now is all that truly matters, that pleasure is always better than pain, and that an individual has the answers within himself if he’ll only look.

Those stories would not contain the gospel, but they would challenge the presuppositions of readers influenced by postmodernism–presuppositions that can cloud the thinking of people in contemporary culture so that they do not understand what the gospel is all about.

Thus, when it comes to fiction, I’m all for the kind of “intellectual rigor” that makes stories eternally significant. Those stories may include an overt communication of the gospel, or not.

From Weird Al Yancovic’s “I’ll Sue Ya” music video

First up: yes, actor/director Ben Affleck has been announced as the next cinematic Batman. He’ll pair up with Henry Cavill as Superman for the Man of Steel sequel, which will feature the “world’s finest” team-up of Batman and Superman leading to a Justice League franchise.

Nobody’s shrugging over this news, not even myself. Joining many, my first reaction was:

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

And:

“I sued Ben Affleck! Awww, do I even need a *reason*?!” — Weird @AlYankovic, “I’ll Sue Ya” #BenAffleck #Batman

— E. Stephen Burnett (@EStephenBurnett) August 23, 2013

However, a Facebook friend (perhaps more wisely) notes:

Well Chris Evans was in Fantastic 4 and that didn’t stop them from casting him as Captain America, so there is precedent there.

Speaking of reboots …

Rebooting Gnostic notions

The Firebird series conclusion released last year.

Firebird and Star Wars novelist Kathy Tyers has on SpecFaith discussed her return to writing. Yet I enjoyed meeting her at Realm Makers, and later writing Defeating Gnostic Notions in Fantasy Fiction. She recounts her early and recent storytelling journeys:

Tyers is no stranger to rewriting her novels. During her 30-year career, she has adapted two of them for Christian markets. But more recently, she says, she is revising even more after God — through the teaching of J.I. Packer and others at Regent College in Vancouver — rebooted her real world.

[…] Tyers is more critical of her other novels that she’s now rewriting. She explains that in One Mind’s Eye,

[W]e find out that a parasitic alien race actually exists on this higher plane of imagery, and there they spend all their time in this inner world, singing and dancing and giving glory to God in their own way. They’re totally unbodied.

I had no idea how Gnostic I had become, as essentially a person coming of age spiritually in North American consensus evangelicalism, until I got to study at Regent College.

Speaking of academic-sounding titles, such as professors, or doctors …

What, where, when, why, ‘Who’

Doctor Who showrunner Steven “Grand Moff” Moffat has been busy:

1. Doctor Who producer teases NZ episode

No, Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit director, and DW fan Peter Jackson, was not kidding about wanting to bring the show’s filming to New Zealand, direct at least one episode — and get a golden Dalek. (Jackson already has Who memorabilia, including Seventh Doctor Sylvester McCoy playing Radagast the Brown.) Outgoing Eleventh Doctor actor Matt Smith endorsed this, and Moffat is quoted as saying, “We talked at The Hobbit premiere — he just wants a [D]alek. So we’ll give him a [D]alek and he’ll direct an episode.”

2. Could Peter Capaldi really be the final face of Doctor Who?

Peter Capaldi in Doctor Who‘s series 4 episode “The Fires of Pompeii”

Media hype, of course. The Doctor is now a cash cow and is growing bigger than Apple; any (more) threats of killing him only makes him more powerful. Moffat knows this. Ergo:

At the Ad-Lib event at this year’s Edinburgh TV festival, host Frank Skinner reportedly asked, “Do you acknowledge the convention that The Doctor can only regenerate 12 times?” And Moffat answered simply, “Yes.” But would not go into any detail about how he might circumvent that limitation at the end of Capaldi’s run (if Moffat is even still writing Who then.)

Some wonder if Moffat has reordered the Doctors by introducing John Hurt as a previously unknown Doctor. It’s a perfect loophole chance, for no one ever saw the Eighth Doctor regenerate directly into the Ninth, after all. So will Hurt be the surprise “interim” doctor, between Eighth and Ninth, perhaps the one who chose to destroy his own civilization? Or some future version of the Doctor, perhaps (as classic Who fans would know better than I) the Valeyard? Myself, I’m more inclined to believe Hurt is an eighth-and-a-half Doctor, or real Ninth Doctor.¹

3. Moffat’s 12th Doctor Hints

Steven Moffat offers a few intriguing titbits on Twelfth Doctor Peter Capaldi in the latest issue of Doctor Who Magazine (#464). Here’s some highlights:

• Moffat is pretty certain Capaldi will keep his native Scottish accent for the role
• At the moment, they’ve only discussed Twelve’s costume in the lightest terms

More here. I wonder if David Tennant now wants to know why he couldn’t keep his brogue.

What do you hope for a Jackson episode, for regeneration(s), and for the Twelfth Doctor?

Speaking of media discernment …

The case for more cultured Christians

These issues have recently come up on SpecFaith (surely they always will), from questions about Biblical speculation to the Harry Potter / magic issue I just won’t shut up about.

La Shawn Barber points to what looks like a perfect book-length treatment of Gray Matters:

We are to avoid fornicating and practicing sorcery, but what about watching movies that depict fornication or sorcery? We can extrapolate from what God does forbid, of course, but scriptural silence on a particular issue isn’t license to do it or to shun it. In some matters, we can think beyond black and white.

“Christians have a hard time with nuance,” Brett McCracken writes in Gray Matters: Navigating the Space Between Legalism and Liberty (Baker Books, 2013). “Gray areas are not our strong suit. It’s way easier to just say yes or no to things, rather than ‘well, maybe, depending. …’” Complicated questions might require more than simple responses to avoid Christian legalism on the one hand (shunning all secular music, movies, and television, for example) and libertinism on the other (getting drunk, cursing, and embracing “anything goes”).

Have a news item I didn’t address? Let us know.

One little ill-informed comment in response to Jared Moore’s book, and I’m all over it. Why?

I believe that even six years after the final novel and two years after the final film, the Harry Potter controversy matters to Godly fiction fans. And this still matters to all Christians who want to discern based on God’s Word, not untruth and even possible mystical views.

Here are seven reasons why this topic still matters.

1. Many Christian critics don’t know what they’re talking about.

In this Amazon.co.uk “review” of The Harry Potter Bible Study¹, the “reviewer” says:

It amazes me how stupid some so-called Christians are. How can films about the occult speak to us as believers. The author of this book needs to have a reality check when it comes to the Bible. This notion about studying the Bible through Harry Potter films as as [sic] justified as claiming that one could learn more about Christ by doing a Bible study on the scenes from The Exorcist. The evil one must love foolishness like this.²

All I can do is sigh, try not to be legalistic (in return?), and write something like:

So, you didn’t actually read the book then. 🙂 This is not much of a “review” then, is it mate?

My guess is that you haven’t read the “Potter” series either, or seen the films — or, as an absolute minimum related study requirement, seriously exegeted passages such as Deut. 18 and what occult notions they actually ban God’s people from believing or practicing, and His reasons why. I say this not to shame you, brother, but to challenge you.

No, if you haven’t read a book, that doesn’t mean you can’t discuss it or believe rightly about it. (I’ve discussed The Shack even though I’ve not made it through the first chapters — out of boredom.) But if anyone comes to you and claims, “Actually, you’re wrong about that book, and let me tell you why,” you only have two options: stop talking about the issue until such time as you’ve checked the claim, or check the claim.

That, er, reviewer clearly didn’t do his homework. Neither have many Christians. Christ is glorified and His people blessed when His people practice truthful discernment.

2. We must seriously exegete passages such as Deut. 18.

Our critic tossed out the “witchcraft isn’t Biblical” reason as if that’s it, argument made, close the book. In person, I’d prefer taking the time to build a relationship before giving a rebuttal (as opposed to writing that quick online comment). Either way, I would challenge the critic to read through all of Deut. 18, not just the occult-related verses in 9-14, then ask:

1. What exactly does God forbid the Israelites from doing? Answer: Child sacrifice, and attempts to predict the future by omen interpretation or contacting the dead.
2. What have these practices in common? Answer: trusting these instead of God as a means to manipulate one’s world and control one’s life. (This is the goal behind any real occult/witchery attempts, including the infamous “prosperity gospel” heresy.)
3. Why exactly does God forbid these? Answer — found in the first and last parts of the chapter that form the context of the occult verses — because God alone was to be the Israelites’ only source of revelation. To communicate, He had appointed priests (verses 1-8) and even better, a final Prophet greater than Moses (verses 15-22).
4. What should Christians take into consideration regarding the New Covenant, which must put some form of interpretive difference on how we read the Old Testament?
5. Where exactly in the Harry Potter series is that kind of child sacrifice and divination exalted?³

3. Some don’t know the difference between “real” and made-up magic.

I first asked this in part 1 of the Harry Potter and the Issues Beyond Fiction blog series:

Do the following concepts fit inside the Biblical category of actual witchcraft? Or do they originate from popular culture, historic folklore, or perceptions of “magic”?

• Whimsical flying broomsticks.
• Cauldrons and potions with magical effects.
• “Wizards” who wear pointy hats and dress in long, shining robes.
• Disappearing from one place to appear almost instantly in another.
• Creatures such as werewolves, trolls, basilisks, centaurs, elves, goblins, and dragons.

With care, I would suggest that if you, even subtly, consider these things as exactly the same as Biblically defined practice of pagan occultism, you may have accidentally bought into some pop-culture notions yourself — and then read those back into the Bible.

Real-life evangelical wizardry’s answer to Gilderoy Lockhart.

4. Christians target “Harry” while endorsing actual devilish evils.

I mentioned that we must “practice truthful discernment.” If we repeat lies about anything, even Harry Potter, we are repeating the work of the father of lies (John 8:44).

For too long the very name Harry Potter has carried a unique stigma. But what about Star Wars, Disney films, the aforementioned “prosperity gospel” preachers (whose spell-casting far out-darks Harry and friends), and moralistic Christian-esque children’s programs? All of these require discernment to sort light from dark, good and bad. Harry is not exceptional.

5. It’s a great conversation-starter.

One of the most-shared featured articles on Speculative Faith — by me, anyway — is Ten Wrong Ways To Discern a Story. Naturally Mr. Potter makes a cameo appearance, under the subhead “spreading lies about stories.” Pick any issue related to art and faith, storytelling and truth, and especially fantasy, and you can get there by talking about Harry Potter.

6. The series offers great stories that glorify God to discerning fans.

A spinoff conversation after The Magical Worlds of ‘Harry Potter’ and ‘Left Behind’ focused on whether Harry Potter had enough literary magic to join the ranks of Narnia or even Gandalf. In response to one reader who called Rowling’s novels comparative “junk,” I said:

Not junk. Certainly “Potter” isn’t junk. In fact, many rank Rowling’s story and plotting and mythological significance on equal terms with Lewis and Tolkien, and I believe this is fair. […] I love Lewis and Tolkien, but there are other gold-standard, did-what-they-set-out-to-do authors out there. Even Christian speculative ones. Surely Lewis and Tolkien themselves would encourage taking their work and then exploring further, including the literature worlds they wanted to tribute.

Numerology: a foolproof method of Biblical hermeneutics, according to this (now repentant) end-times teacher.

7. Because a six-item list would be bad; seven items is better.

Also, Harry Potter has seven books, which makes it spiritual. It is true because: numerology.

Only in an advanced society do we remove the tip ends of beans.

Some say this unnecessary practice removes important nutrition and fiber. High-end restaurants often leave the tips for the sake of being fashionable. But I break them off because they tend to be woody and I don’t like the texture.

A former neighbor of mine, a lady from the Philippines, was incredulous that anyone would be so wasteful. And she was right; it’s throwing away good food. Nevertheless, I do it.

Years ago, while helping me harvest an unusually dismal crop of potatoes, my oldest daughter (then in 4^th grade) observed, “This is like the Irish potato famine.” She’d learned about that calamity in school, and I was pleased she remembered it and could relate what she’d learned to the situation at hand.

I agreed there were similarities put pointed out that in our case, we could buy potatoes from the store and wouldn’t have to go without. Moreover, we had other things to eat as well. The common Irishmen at that time ate little else, so when their crop failed, it meant starvation.

“So what did they eat?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Or at least, very little. They starved.”

She frowned, perplexed. “So… what did they eat?”

In her world, starving to death meant you’d missed lunch. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the alien concept of dying of hunger.

As I sit here with my lap full of beans, not to mention a pantry, two refrigerators, and a 25-cubic-ft chest freezer full of food, neither can I.

We can try to imagine the extremes of life and death. But when the reality hits us, we’re never prepared for it.

Kind of like standing before God after completing our earthly trek. I try to envision the scene, but I can’t. When my savior asks how I spent the days and years of my life, will I answer with shame? Will I be too late aware of the opportunities I missed to honor and serve him because I was preoccupied with pleasing myself?

In the sixth decade of life, my perspective is shifting concerning what’s important. These days, I’m more concerned with harvest than tilling.

The bean ends and stems cover the bottom of one bucket. The edible pods, snapped into bite-sized sections, pile up in the other, while my hands work swiftly at their long-familiar task. This takes some time. Tilling, planting, tending, fending off pests. Then harvesting, washing, snapping, and processing. Pleasant work, yes. But most people buy their beans with the work already done.

It takes time. And time is money. And at this stage of my life, and in both cases, the quantity I possess is limited.

Time and money spent raising a family is well spent. No regrets there. Now, though, after reaping that harvest, I like to think my time is my own.

Oops. The Spirit of God who has indwelt me for the past forty-plus years gives a kindly nudge, reminding me of 1 Corinthians 6:19-20. You’re bought with a price and are not your own.  Oh, yeah. True enough. Not to mention the reminder in Ephesians 5:15-16 that we haven’t got forever to carry out the Great Commission. You’re right, Lord; it’s not time to kick back and relax quite yet.

Only in a privileged society do we throw away bean tips and lifetimes.

How can we know what’s well spent and what’s wasted? I suppose that depends.

It’s necessary to spend on food.  The proportion of time to money, and the amounts of both, will vary from person to person. We must do something to earn a living. Again, the specifics will vary from one person to another, but this can often absorb the bulk of your time.

Besides those necessities, all work and no play is an unhealthy combination, particularly in a culture like ours where “work” is usually done sitting down. Our bodies need exercise just as they need food, and there’s no sin in recreation and relaxation.

Provided, of course, you don’t indulge in them at the expense of, say the kids’ lunch money or your employer’s time.

Or the work of the ministry.

That’s something unbelievers don’t have to be concerned with. But those of us who follow Christ have a mandate to put him and his kingdom first in our lives. Not give him the insect-riddled leftovers.

Christians often discuss how much screen time we should permit, what sort of brain food our own and our children’s eyes should feed upon. These are important things to consider. Seems to me the answer to that is as flexible as whether we grow our own beans or buy them canned; there’s no one rule to follow.

And then there’s the question of books. I knew a family whose rule was that if the kids read fiction, they had to spend an equal amount of time reading the Bible. Personally, I can’t go along with that one.

I spend a lot of time in the Scriptures on a daily basis. But some days I spend more time reading fiction; and most days, I spend a LOT more time writing it. Writing about it, editing/critiquing, blogging, and altogether consuming a great many hours on writing-related activities.

This is not like growing beans. When I sweat in the garden, I see results. And I don’t mean merely dirt under my fingernails and a backache. I see satisfying results. The fresh air and exercise is beneficial, and the product is delicious and profitable. We eat the fruit of those labors all year around and have plenty to share with others.

When I sweat over my writing, I sometimes find the result satisfying. But by no measure is it profitable. How does it contribute exercise to my own or anyone else’s body? How does it help me financially? (Trust me; it doesn’t.) Can anyone be fed, physically or spiritually, as a result of any of it? Has anyone ever come to know Christ by reading Christian fiction (mine or anyone else’s)?

I blanch the beans and put them in the freezer. At this point, I can’t know exactly who will eat them, what meals they’ll accompany, or how I’ll serve them. But after a couple of months of tending followed by picking, cleaning, and processing, the beans are ready to use whenever they’re needed.

I don’t know who will read what I write. I don’t know how what they read will affect them, if at all. I do know, though, that whenever I feel like I should hang it all up, that same Spirit who reminds me that I’m bought with a price and am not my own nudges me again. Don’t be so impatient.

Though I must consider carefully how to spend my remaining resources, I don’t want to be a miser and refuse to invest what God has given me. This is applies to everything, not just writing.

Isaiah 61:11 isn’t about writing, either, but it does apply to all our obedient labors that we offer in faith to God.  When we wisely and prayerfully invest the gifts he’s given us, whether it be seed and soil, time and money, or sweat and skill, he’ll make the effort bloom and bear fruit in its own time.

Today is the last day to enter the Spec Faith Summer Writing Challenge. You have until midnight (Pacific time). Of course, if you post after the deadline, visitors can still read your entry, but it will not be eligible for finalist consideration.

Which brings me to what’s up this week. All week long, visitors will have the chance to read the entries and respond.

First, and most important for the sake of the challenge, visitors can give a thumbs up to as many entries as they liked, enjoyed, found compelling, preferred. Obviously we’d like to recognized good writing, but this is an informal challenge, so you the readers can determine your own standards and indicate your choices accordingly.

Second, and most importantly, perhaps, for the writers, you can also leave a comment, telling the entrant why you liked his or her work or what you think it needed to elevate it to the next level.

Personally, I’m a fan of balanced positive feedback.

I think I read here in the comments someone’s remark that there is no such thing as the perfect book. True. So we ought not to be shocked at negative feedback, but still, a positive comment can let us know if we’re on the right track in any aspect. Hearing general praise is nice (e.g. love it) but not as helpful as specific positive reinforcement (e.g. your characters seem so real).

Best of all, in my opinion, is specific positive comments in conjunction with specific constructive criticism (e.g. character motivation seemed a little weak).

In the end, however, feedback, no matter what kind, is helpful. We writers know how our work seems to us, but we don’t know how it comes across to others. This challenge gives us a little window to view the reaction of our words on others.

In that light, feel free to invite any readers, speculative or other, to stop by Spec Faith this week, read the entries, and give their response. The more, the merrier! It’s like a party! 😉

Recently I wrote an article playing off author Mike Duran’s post and follow-up responses about Christian speculative fiction. As I wrote my remarks, I realized that one phrase in particular gnawed at me: “intellectual rigor.” Christian fiction in general and speculative fiction in particular needs more intellectual rigor, according to one comment to the original post.

So what does “intellectual rigor” mean when it comes to fiction? Not the use of good hermeneutics on the way to a scintillating sermon, I’m fairly certain. That might be intellectually rigorous, but it wouldn’t be good fiction.

Are we talking about stories that only college professors will “get”? If so, then the complaint is really that all Christians aren’t college professors.

Ironic that C. S. Lewis, one of the most brilliant college professors, wrote one of the most widely read children’s fantasy series, and no one calls into question his intellectual rigor. People of all ages and all walks of life can understand the Narnia tales. They aren’t structured in a way that makes them difficult. Are they, therefore, lacking in intellectual rigor?

Some years ago I read a novel touted for its literary quality. I decided I should read it as part of my writing education. The story had two point-of-view characters–sisters, as I recall.

One told her portion of the story in chronological fashion, starting at the beginning and working her way forward. The other, alternating with the first, told her portion looking back from the conclusion of the story, detailing the events in reverse order as they wound down toward the start.

Of course, the reader is left to figure out this structure on her own. How many chapters did I flounder through, uncertain what had happened or when and to whom. The worst of it was, in the end, one sister dies. That’s it. The other sister seems unchanged by the loss. Yes, it seems like a tragedy, but to what purpose? What’s the point? I closed the book feeling as if I’d been cheated.

Was that novel intellectually rigorous because I was confused most of the way through? In the same way that a puzzle is, I suppose. But I’ve worked many a puzzle and haven’t found my worldview challenged or my questions answered.

Ah, yes. There’s the rub. Unanswered questions are supposed to be a sign of intellectual rigor in this day and age. But why?

In truth, knowledge leads to greater questions and more knowledge–just ask scientists working with DNA or those studying the God particle. Unanswered questions, on the other hand, lead to . . . I’m not sure what. A repeat of the questions, perhaps? Asking them over and over again of different sources? In what way would this process qualify as intellectual rigor?

Some say the value is in the seeking rather than in the finding.

“Seeking” with no hope of finding reminds me of someone whose car is stuck in a mud puddle or a snow bank and he stomps hard and harder on the accelerator, as if spinning the wheels in place will actually get him somewhere. I don’t find this approach to learning to be intellectual or rigorous. It seems disingenuous and foolish.

God has a lot to say about foolishness and wisdom and about knowledge. But perhaps the greatest way His Word can help in unfolding what intellectual rigor in fiction should look like is through the fiction of the Bible–the stories people in the Bible told.

Jesus related the most stories, which we refer to as parables because they have a moral or point to them. In reality all good stories have a point (which is why I was so disappointed in the oddly structured literary novel I read which was mostly pointless). David’s counselor and friend Nathan told him a very pointed story. Several of the prophets told stories, too–fantasies, actually, because they included talking trees and such.

But here’s the thing. The people who told those stories did so to communicate something toh their audience. They weren’t trying to obscure their point.

Why did they use a story then, instead of just coming right out and saying what they wanted to say? Because there is power in stories. Stories help us to see truth through someone else’s eyes rather than through our own biased view. Through stories we can get to Truth by seeing past our own version of truth.

When David heard Nathan’s story, he saw clearly how shamefully he had used his faithful military commander Uriah by stealing his wife and having him killed, and David repented. When the Pharisees heard Jesus’s story about the shameful vineyard workers who kept beating the messengers who came to collect what they owed and who finally killed the owner’s son, the Pharisees looked for ways to kill Jesus.

These stories were intellectually rigorous; they made the people who heard them think, and ultimately to act, though not always in positive ways. Stories don’t come with guarantees.

They don’t even come with guarantees that the audience will understand. More than once Jesus took His disciples aside to explain the meaning of His stories.

Certainly the words were understandable, the images were familiar, but the disciples were wrestling with the “so what” of the story. What does it mean, they asked Jesus. They weren’t asking, what does it mean when you say a sower went out to sow. They got that. They got that seed wouldn’t grow if the birds came and ate it or if it fell on rocky ground or if thorns choked out the roots. What they wrestled with was the significance of what they heard.

In all this talk of “intellectual rigor,” I’m hearing very little about adding significance to our fiction. It seems to me, some novelists today want to tell farmers stories about computers or auto mechanics about organic feeding processes. When they aren’t interested, these writers are chastising them for not being intellectually rigorous. I wonder how intellectually rigorous those writers would appear to be if they were given a farm to run.

If these writers want to reach farmers, they ought to be writing stories about which farmers care and which hold significance for farmers rather than criticizing them for the weakness of their intellectual rigor.

This article, apart from some minor revisions, was originally published at A Christian Worldview of Fiction.

(If you’re a parent, it takes time to teach your children how to engage with the culture and stories around them. The same is true if you’re coauthoring a blog series on how parents might better do this! We now present the conclusion of the Teaching Story Transitions series.)

Click to read the now-complete series.

Starting last summer, we hoped to answer two questions. First: How can Christians avoid jumping directly from “let your parents shelter you” to “parents, shelter your children,” with little emphasis on what transitions come between? Second: How might parents adapt the “trivium” method of classical education to teach enjoyment and discernment of stories?

We have explored un-Biblical and unhelpful “discernment” extremes, practicing personal discernment before discernment on behalf of others, and overviewed our practical motives based on knowing and loving God’s Story, the Bible. Then came our Trivium outline with its first two stages: for younger children, Early Tools for Truth, and for older children, Middle-Grade Exploration. Now we come to the final teaching phase, as children grow into adults.

Expanding the Trivium: Word and Image

However, both of us want to change the classical trivium a bit, by expanding its categories to cover how people use their minds to interact with all of life. We’ve noticed that classical education proper often focuses on words in books and less on pictures, videos, etc. So we suggest that in this final stage, parents must train older children (or teens, youth, whatever your favorite term) to approach all of life — including visual media — with discernment.

Here we find some objections. Some Christian pundits and scholars believe human minds must focus mainly on word-based communications and descriptions rather than seeing images. Images, they believe, are a lower form of communication that leads to passivity.¹

But this needn’t be true for discerning minds. After all, culture is full of both words and images. So is Scripture itself, in which the Word (Christ) is also the image of the invisible God (Col. 1:15), and though He does use words, yet often to encourage images. If we don’t address this, we will incidentally teach children to fear, trivialize, or even succumb to shallow, passive entertainment. So instead we should teach children to approach all of life — all stories, media and communications — as things with which we glorify and enjoy God.

This is especially vital for teenagers as they approach their adulthood. Parents may react as if teens should not enjoy, say, movies over books. The real problem is if youths are passively enjoying either form of storytelling — if they are simply sitting back and letting the product master them. Biblical discernment doesn’t enforce words over image or some media over others; it encourages us all to bring Jesus with us as we participate in any form of culture.

With that annotation complete, let’s explore the final stage of the (adjusted) trivium.

3. Launching teens into culture: Gradually release your grown children to discern and enjoy media and stories as adults.

The classical trivium’s final stage is known as the “rhetoric” stage. It starts in a person’s early teenage years and ends when her or she becomes an adult.

Yes, parents often dread the teenage years — that’s the stereotype, anyway — because here teens begin naturally to break away from parents’ authority. We do have a different view here than some Christian parents, for we believe this breaking away from parents is a natural stage in human development — that is, God-designed — that should not be stifled.

Of course, because we’re all sinners, sin often distorts this period into a rebellious time.

But youths and parents should both be encouraged, first, that youths can honor their parents while still pursuing adulthood; second, that parents can help their teenage children become God-honoring adults, rather than end up stifling their pursuit of adulthood.

Yes, parents may not like this, but if Christ tarries His coming and our children continue living, they will become adults. So we must help them by encouraging them to slowly break away from our authority — not for rebellion, but for God’s glory. Our children must learn to think for themselves and argue for themselves in adulthood. Thus, we must train them to think through others’ arguments, emotional appeals, logic use or misuse, and stories, and enjoy and discern them — and be able to reject and rebut what they see that isn’t of God.

In other words, instead of stifling a teenager’s argumentative impulse, let’s encourage them to harness that impulse for God’s glory. And in teaching them to discern and argue, let’s be careful to teach them to love God and their neighbor through this process (Matt. 22:37-39).

First, train teens to interpret accurately what others are saying.

Teens must be able to recognize what stories and media are arguing, and engage these ideas with a consistent Christian worldview (based always in Scripture).

In the words of John Piper, “Do unto authors as you would have them do unto you”² Piper calls this “thinking an author’s thoughts after him”³, and though he applies it mainly to nonfiction, this is also the golden rule of reading, watching, observing, and listening to plays, movies, novels, songs, and any other story-based product.

By striving to understand what authors are and are not saying⁴, youths practice loving our neighbors as ourselves. They avoid the sinfully easy way to defeat an argument: creating and “defeating” a straw man — which only means defeating ourselves and in the process hiding the glory of God. Furthermore, this avoids attributing a belief to someone that he or she has not argued — to put it starkly, the sin of lying. Youths must know Christ will hold them accountable for every idle word they’ve said or typed (Matt. 12:36) — even if the story or other media product is made by sinful people and advocates sin.

Second, train teenagers to avoid needlessly offending others.

This truth has broader applications for general apologetics, yet applies equally to how teens learn to engage and debunk the stories and media they’ve heard. One of us (Stephen) vividly recalls practicing the wrong sort of media discernment in 2004, when he challenged someone who was reading the popular yet silly religious-conspiracy novel The Da Vinci Code. It was a “drive by” “discernment,” like Proverbs’s fool’s lips walking into a fight.

Christian teens, due to their legitimate joy in Christ and desire to uphold truth, can easily insult others. Like parents, teens may find other false worldviews absurd and inconsistent, because they often are. But we must recall that we too were once lost — and thus also preposterous and inconsistent. Only by God’s grace have we been saved (Eph. 2:8-9).

Moreover, we must make sure that if anything it’s the truth we share that offends hearers and not our rhetoric. One of my (Jared’s) professors, Stephen Wellum, ripped several of my papers apart in seminary due to my rhetorical garnish. We ourselves struggle with this, so it’s even more essential to remind teenagers that truth, God’s Word, “is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb. 4:12). But our rhetoric is not. We don’t mean to diminish the power of excellently crafted words, only to exalt the word of God to its proper place. After all, the Gospel (the good news, the message of Christ) is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes (Rom. 1:16).

Third, train teens to compare other worldviews to the Christian worldview.

Hopefully by now your teens have a basic understanding of logic, thanks to God’s Word and its application, and to the Trivium’s first two stages. Teens must take what they’ve learned and apply this to other worldviews, asking and answering questions such as these:

1. What is the author’s or storyteller’s worldview?
2. What arguments, images, and other art aspects reveal the author’s worldview?
3. What lies (anything that disagrees with God’s Word) does he or she tell?
4. What half-truths does the storyteller share — i.e., truth the storyteller does not connect to God, such as “You shouldn’t murder”?
5. What total truths — truth connected to God in light of Christ — does he or she tell?
6. Is the author’s worldview consistent with reality? That is, can or does a human being consistently apply this worldview to all areas of life?
7. Can the author’s worldview sustain his or her arguments? Why or why not?

Fourth, train teens to craft compelling interactions and responses.

Of course, parents don’t need to force teens to write papers in response to media, stories and other pop culture because verbal conversations will suffice. In conversations, parents could ask the above questions, then discuss how to engage others’ worldviews. If the other view is inconsistent, then a thesis could be, “Bob’s worldview is inconsistent because …”, and then specific points. The rest of the conversation (or formal paper) would accurately represent others’ beliefs, then show why the Christian worldview is more consistent.

Again, the goal of the rhetoric stage is this: First, accurately represent other worldviews. Second, do not offend others needlessly. Third, compare and contrast other worldviews with Christianity. Fourth, rebut the view in a compelling way that is faithful to Scripture.

Series finale

Will this work perfectly, every time, every time it’s tried on your current or future children?

We don’t promise that. Some of this series is based on our own experience; some is closer to theory. But we’ve done our best to ground this in Biblical discernment, and to discern other modes of “discernment” that we find anti-Biblical. And we’ve striven to allow for what classical Christian educators have found works well with children’s natural growth.

But whether or not you follow a classical or classical-derived education model, these truths remains: that all of life and culture is grace-mixed idolatry. We cannot approve or reject certain stories, or other products for any reason other than careful, Biblical discernment. And we must enjoy stories only for the purpose of enjoying God Himself.

Therefore, let’s train our children to extract grace from idolatry and to connect this grace to its rightful owner: God. Teach them to reject lies of the flesh, the world, and Satan, and to connect God’s truth to Him by the creating, sustaining, and redeeming work of Christ.