At Intercollegiate Review on March 20, a little column called The Christian Fantasy got a big readership — surprising, given the column’s contents. That’s not my view; that’s what novelist Lars Walker himself remarked after the piece gained more promotion.¹

Why this attention and what is behind Walker’s thoughts? Naturally we asked for a sequel.

E. Stephen Burnett: Lars, you later said you “thought the material was fairly self-evident and had already been done by others.” True indeed — at least among Christian-SF “circles” and all those let’s-break-out-of-the-evangelical-fiction-mold blogs. So what do you think happened here?

Lars Walker: I honestly don’t know. I’m more surprised than anybody. Like all authors, I’m trying to get attention all the time, and in general I’m not very good at it.

ESB: How did this article come about, and what have you been hearing from readers?

Walker: Anthony Sacramone is the managing editor at Intercollegiate Review. He’s also a very funny – if intermittent – blogger, and I’ve gotten to know him as a commenter over the years. He asked me to write the article. He says he knew from the time he assigned it that it would draw attention. He told me his readership is mostly young college students, and they’re unfamiliar with the “conventional wisdom.” But it’s gone beyond that. A lot of the attention has been coming from people who’ve been fans for a long time.

ESB: If you would have known in advance that this column would receive more attention, is there anything you would have changed or expanded upon in the piece?

Walker: I might have mentioned Sturgeon’s Law – “Ninety per cent of Science Fiction is crud, but ninety per cent of everything is crud.” My beef is not so much that there’s a lot of substandard stuff getting written, but that I fear upcoming writers lack opportunity for the hard, cruel feedback that helps you write better. Because of self-publishing, it’s getting to be like one of those games they have for school kids nowadays, where all the participants get the same trophy. Games like that are for the participants. They don’t have much to offer the spectator.

ESB: Responding to the column, some readers shared examples of published Christian fantasy and science fiction they enjoy, including many Marcher Lord Press titles, The Lamb Among the Stars by Chris Walley, and The Wingfeather Saga by Andrew Peterson. If you’re familiar with those titles, do you believe those stories could also use some improvement? Or maybe for some reason they seem more “underground,” unnoticed by more readers?

Walker: No, I must confess I’m not familiar with any of these. My claim to ignorance, at least, isn’t likely to be seriously challenged.

ESB: For those who don’t know you and your work ², what is your own storytelling journey?

Walker: I’ve loved books from the time I was able to read; I got the idea of writing pretty early, but didn’t think I was smart enough. Although I loved Tolkien, it was actually Robert E. Howard’s Conan stories that sparked the thought, “I could write this sort of thing. Maybe not this well, but this sort of thing.” My original plan was to be an artist – a cartoonist or illustrator. Every picture I drew had a story that went with it. When I started writing, the drawing sort of withered away on its own. One day I realized I wasn’t drawing anymore. Writing scratched my itch better.

ESB: Here on Speculative Faith, some readers suggested that Inkling-derivative or just plain bad fantasy is not any more unique to Christian novels than secular novels. Do you think that’s true — and if so, does that shared criticism even apply?

Walker: Pretty much, as I said above. There may be one problem in that Christian publishing at this point in history – speaking very broadly – has a lower bar for what’s called “professional.” I think the best Christian literature published today stands up with almost anything in secular literature. But I’ve read some novels published by our professional houses that were embarrassingly bad. No, I won’t mention any names.

ESB: Some writers, replying to your piece, repeated things like, “Yes, I agree with you that most Christian fantasy is bad. So please check out my own self-published work at [website X].” Yet you faulted self-published authors (solely self-published, anyway) in saying this:

Today’s writers, so often self-published (I’m not speaking in contempt; I’m self-publishing now myself), lack that thick wall to chop through, that sparring partner to toughen them up. I read so many self-published books now that leave me saying, “This writer has a good story and interesting characters. All he needs is a real editor to tell him to cut out the dead wood.”

What reasons could you give, along with craft-improvement reasons, to support seeking and accepting editorial criticism before going ahead and paying up for self-publication?

A fantastic little nonfiction doctrine book with fiction applications.

Walker: Craft-improvement is the first priority, if you’re a professional. Christians don’t sufficiently understand the idea of Christian “vocation” (my friend Gene Edward Veith has written extensively on this subject). If we understand that every day is God’s – not just Sunday – and that our work is part of our worship, then we’ll want to glorify God by working excellently. C. S. Lewis wrote about this too – what if the best book you could find on any subject turned out to be written by a Christian? This goes into the heart of theology – we believe in the Incarnation and the resurrection of the body. For Christians, there can be none of this nonsense about only “spiritual” things mattering. Everything we do with our physical bodies and minds is spiritual.

ESB: I always like to ask this, regarding notions that “if only Christians would get their acts together, if only we were more creative, if only we pioneered instead of copying others, then popular culture would like or at least respect us.” How much can we credit plain dislike of Christianity for the fact that even good Christian fantasy goes unnoticed? Or how much may readers need to ignore possible “it’s just persecution” excuses and raise standards higher?

Walker: You can never know. The prejudice (I won’t say persecution – yet) certainly exists and certainly counts. I don’t expect this to get better soon, frankly. But I don’t think we can strategize a counterattack. All we can do is our best work as unto the Lord. Success and “ears to hear” are His business. On the other hand, we can construct our own ghetto, to some extent, and lowering our standards definitely contributes to that. I mentioned Jeffrey Overstreet in the column. He responded very graciously at his blog. We’ve had discussions in my blog comments in the past, and we don’t always agree, but he’s a wonderful, wonderful writer. He doesn’t even like the term “Christian fantasy,” and he bridles a little when it’s applied to him. He writes the stories he wants to write, from his own point of view, and to him it’s just fantasy. He says, “My grandfather didn’t build ‘Christian houses.’”

ESB: Finally, where would you seek, or prefer to find in the future, better God-glorifying speculative stories — secular publishers, Christian-mainstream publishers (e.g. Zondervan or Thomas Nelson), independent publishers (like Marcher Lord Press), or self-publishers?

Walker: I had a wonderful break years back, when I sold my first novel to a secular publisher, Baen. I still haven’t figured out quite how that happened. My agent sent it in, and the late Jim Baen – a true original whose like we may never see again – took to it for some reason. I blew it with Baen after a few books – though they’re re-releasing a couple of my titles now as e-books, which pleases me immensely – but I’ve always taken pride in that mainstream sale.

One of Walker’s many Vikings-and-fantasy novels.

I would hope that we can continue to infiltrate the mainstream market in an Overstreetian manner, through writing more and more quality stuff. I would hope that a rising tide of quality would improve the output of the Christian houses (and I believe that’s happening, too). But in order for that to happen, we need to see young writers learning their craft. And as I wrote, my great fear is that those young writers don’t have the apprenticeship opportunities they need to develop those skills. I think we need to develop some kind of network of writers’ and readers’ groups, where brutal honesty reigns and only the strong survive ( so to speak). Whether that’s actually possible, I don’t know.

On August 2-3, 2013, a core group of self-professed nerds are going to try something a just a little bit terrifying — we’re going to hold a conference just for people of faith who love science-fiction, fantasy, and all their odd offshoots.

The event is called Realm Makers, and it will take place on the campus of The University of Missouri, St. Louis, in their JC Penney conference center.

One might ask if there’s really any demand for such a thing — on the surface, Realm Makers looks a lot like a typical writers conference, except many of the classes will speak directly to the writers of “weird stuff.” For example, we’ll be talking about world-building, fight choreography, Star Wars, science, and magic.

A little over a year ago, a group of speculative fiction enthusiasts were talking online about science fiction and fantasy conventions, and how many of us would like to attend one, but how the pervasive presence of scantily-clad “booth girls,” the glorification of dark and evil ideals, and the sometimes-antagonistic tone toward Christianity made an otherwise awesome environment too uncomfortable for some fans. Half-jokingly, I suggested we needed a “con” of our own. One where we could talk about the stories we love, but conduct the discussion through the filter of our worldview. One where there might not be so many chain mail bikinis. Though I expected people to laugh, they didn’t. They agreed with me. The enthusiasm and excitement about the idea began to boil.

In order to keep the first attempt at Realm Makers manageable, we pared the idea of a full-blown convention down to a writers conference, since my main area of contact is with the fiction community. The long-term goal, however, is to expand the vision to bring together not only authors, but filmmakers, illustrators, comic book and graphic novel artists, and fans. It’s my hope that some of the discussions during this first year will help generate the momentum to forge toward this goal.

For this year, even with just us writers, we have some exciting content lined up. Jeff Gerke of Marcher Lord Press/Hinterlands will serve as our keynote speaker, and we’ll have courses taught by industry professionals such as Bryan Davis, Kathy Tyers, Chila Woychik, L.B. Graham, Grace Bridges, and a host of others I can’t squeeze in here.

Fantasy novelist and Realm Makers conference organizer Rebecca P. Minor.

You can expect the conference to tackle some of the tough issues of being both a Christian and a fan of the speculative arts. Where is the line between appropriate, realistic content and glorifying mankind’s sin nature? Does the world still need books about upstanding heroes? Can and should a Christian artist work in the mainstream market? How can we reach beyond simplistic allegory and sermonizing in our stories? What’s on the horizon for established franchises as well as newcomers to the publishing world?

Around the beginning of April, we will finalize the cost of attendance at the event, but the expectation is that the registration will run somewhere between $150-$200. Registration will open in May. The accommodations for the conference are right on the campus of the university, so while they might not be glamorous, the price will be right. And you can guarantee the company will be excellent.

It’s my hope that this first instance of Realm Makers will begin an annual symposium where great ideas and even greater relationships can take shape. Keep an eye on FaithandFantasyAlliance.com for developing details.

One week and one day from tomorrow, Christians will be imagining Christ still on the cross.

This piece shouldn’t detract from that. In fact, bookmark it to read on Sunday morning if you like. One can’t skip to the Resurrection without His death. Yet one shouldn’t also emphasize His death so much that His Resurrection effectively becomes an afterthought.

For centuries Christians of all denominational stripes have agreed: all present and future resurrections began with Himself. Without that fact, our faith is null. ¹

Divine postmortem

Plenty of sermons and materials teach about how He died physically: asphyxiation from the cross added to the loss of blood from the thorns on His head and the scourging of His back. “Five bleeding wounds He bears,” says the hymn: two in His hands, two in His feet, and the one in His side where the soldier stabbed His dead body with a spear to see if He was dead.

What we don’t consider as often is how He might have risen.

So how did He do it?

Miraculously — we can say that for sure.

So “how?” is the wrong question. Instead we may ask: Whoa, what did it look like?

For whatever reasons — emphasis? budget? desire for reverence? — Bible-films like The Passion of the Christ and The Gospel of John like to skip whatever special effects would be necessary to reenact the Resurrection. No, I don’t mean the stone rolled away, the angels sitting there, or people running around seeking or finding Him. I mean the metamorphosis. The moment He yanked Himself away from death. The moment life reentered His body.

Imagine the scene …

Damp blackness is stifling. You may sense the walls so close and the rough-hewn ceiling hanging low. A stench fills the chamber, the odor of death. For about two days² the mutilated body of Jesus has lain here, as motionless as the rock.

No sound comes from outside the heavy stone rolled before the cavity’s tiny entrance. If you could go outside, you might see the garden-like area beyond — and at least two Roman soldiers stationed at the entrance, with an official government seal upon the stone.

All is dark and still. Does dawn approach? Did the sun rise with the Son?

Now comes a tremor, throbbing in the earth. With grunts, both guards snap to attention.

Inside the tomb, stone walls shake. Pebbles rain from the ceiling. Quaking ground rumbles even louder. Will the cave fall in? Is that a glow? Yes, near the body, faint at first, golden with holiness, and now with an eye- and ear-splitting flash it bursts like fire in the tomb.

Under the layers of thick, dirty, and bloodstained fabric, it begins.

Resurrection.

Divine energy courses through His dead body. Cellular activity begins. Life returns. A re-living heart starts to pump, slowly at first, then faster, faster.

Sparkling power bursts through every artery and vein and nerve and muscle, repairing tears, drawing together torn fragments, regenerating and re-sealing the shredded flesh in His back. Other wounds disappear like they never existed. On his head the horribly deep scratches from the mocking thorn-crown vanish as if time itself reversed.

What of the metal shrapnel from the whip that may have lodged in His back, or thorn  bits that may have broken off into his scalp? May they simply dart out into the grave cloths? Or do they crumble into nothing as if vaporized?

As for the five other, formerly bleeding wounds of His …

They will remain. He will keep them as evidence of His sacrifice, and to prove that His body, though new and with supernatural powers, is the exact same body as before.

That body is already rising onto His muscular, firm legs that pulse with power and glory.

Tissue mends itself, just beneath His wrists and on His feet. Blood vessels and muscles, already woven back into better-than-perfect health — they may be shifted away from His evidential wounds so they will never bleed again. Flesh around the holes in his hands hardens into new, tougher, impenetrable skin, yet still showing the scars.

On His feet, the nerves, same as all through His new body, are impervious to pain. Yet they still show the nail scars on either side.

In His side — between His underarm and ribcage? — the wound from the spear piercing remains. But it will never again bleed or be pained. Even as He feels the skin around the wound adjusting itself, does He anticipate in days showing that wound to His disciples?

Is His awareness — the spirit He gave up after He breathed His last³ — already reunited with His human body? Or did His awareness return⁴ seconds later? Perhaps all along He is aware that He has returned, that His body is being rejuvenated, that He has won!

How long does this transformation take? Several power-charged seconds or an instant?

Do His eyes open, wrapped in the grave cloths? Or does He keep them closed while He lifts off the stone slab? Does He pass supernaturally through the cloths — or does He, with a cry and mighty shudder like the earthquake itself, burst out of them?

Death could have never held Him.

And His new body — a prototype of our future resurrected bodies⁵,  though far more powerful — has amazing superhuman abilities we can only guess about from later descriptions in the Gospels.

Now He has left His grave clothes; He may wear some other clothing supernaturally given. Dried blood has disappeared from His glorified skin. His wounds are perfectly healed, His scars visible. Blazing with glory, He stands to His feet and walks through the tomb.

The stone is gone. The earthquake has ceased. Guards have fainted at the sight.

Into the dawn the Son strides forth to spread the news — and to share His Resurrection.

Bill Cosby said it best in his 1964 comedy routine. I started out as a child.

Even as he quipped about it, he probably knew it was no laughing matter. For better or for worse, our childhoods shaped us. We are who we are because of them (and sometimes, by God’s grace, in spite of them).

Kids learn (though not always positively) from positively everything they’re exposed to. And today’s kids are exposed to a wide variety of influences. As readers, we can often look back to the books we devoured as kids and see their impact on our lives. These days, TV is more of an influence on kids’ minds than books, though some children do still like to read.

Traditionally, early childhood tales were designed to teach. Aesop, Mother Goose, Hans Christian Andersen, and even Little Golden Books illustrated life lessons through story. It’s a highly effective way for anyone to learn, kids and adults alike. Modern books teach lessons too, whether or not that’s the writer’s intent.

A quote I heard a couple years ago lingers in my mind. From Educating by Story-Telling by Katherine Dunlap Cather: “The tales heard during childhood become fixed and lasting possessions. They stay with the hearer through the years, and because their ideals become his ideals, do much toward shaping his character.”

Because of the bombardment of images and experiences upon kids today, I don’t know if literature has the same power over children’s minds that it once did. But whether it’s a school text, a newspaper, or the assembly instructions that come in a set of Legos, there’s something authoritative about printed material.

Important as all this is to me as a grandparent, I take it seriously as a writer as well, though I don’t write for a juvenile audience. Kids who like to read will pick up books that aren’t necessarily YA books, and I’m aware that what I write is likely to be read by a variety of hungry minds.

Kids don’t think the way adults do; they don’t just follow a story, but they pick up on what’s written between the lines. As Madeline L’Engle famously said, “if the book [you feel compelled to write] will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.” I think that’s one reason kids are apt to like speculative fiction; they “get it,” whereas many adults can’t see past the fantasy to the reality the tales portray.

A troubled kid’s world might be ugly, but he’s drawn to beauty when she sees it. A child might be disillusioned or jaded, but when reading a fairy tale, a part of her wants to believe it might be true. When we write stories too much like the world the child lives in, we keep his focus too narrow and give him nothing to strive for.

It was plainly an adult who wrote Peter Pan, because kids want to grow up. They’re just sometimes a little scared of what awaits them in the adult world. If they can read about kids who are strong and brave, who make wise decisions and conquer their fears, it can help equip them to do the same. If they read about people for whom faith is real, it can help them understand that reality for themselves.

We each started out a child. As writers, let’s do what we can to give subsequent generations a solid start.

Speculative Faith’s new News section rolls along with timely bits and discussion-starters:

“Blimey, this stew is too bloated, I say.”

‘The Hobbit’ Part 1: Too Dark or Bloated?

Today The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey releases to Blu-ray and DVD. Now at last some critics will (in this viewer’s view) finally actually see the theatrical version of the film, and choose whether to reevaluate their perceptions of the film’s supposed overdone “darkness” and/or “bloatedness.”

Listening to Left Behind, part 2 — March 18

In the “pilot,” married pilot Rayford Steele flirts with Gone With the Wind-style-named flight attendant Hattie Durham, and deals with the Rapture on board his plane. Meanwhile, handsome prodigy journalist Cameron “Buck” Williams reviews recent world events, which in this episode is handled very well without the arguable info-dumping as the original Left Behind novel did. (This is a theme in this series: dramatic audio improves on the novels.)

‘Doctor Who’ Series 7.5 Promo Images — March 18

March 18: Two weeks from the seventh series’ second half’s premiere, more information is voorp-voorping in.

Following ‘The Celtic Way of Evangelism’ — March 17

We have Saint Patrick’s hundred-year-old quest to thank for so much of our Kingdom heritage, and so many of the fantastic God-honoring stories we enjoy. This comes from The Celtic Way of Evangelism author George Hunter, quoted by David Mathis at Desiring God.

What Would Make Jesus Wince? — March 15

Have you ever heard someone say, “Would you hear/read/watch that with Jesus beside you?”

Just yesterday [Jan. 14, 2013] something dawned on me: a Biblically based challenge to the objection that enjoying certain stories or things wouldn’t be right “if Jesus were sitting next to me” or “if Jesus were hearing/reading/seeing this with me.”

This slogan may actually assume a low view of Christ’s holiness.

Movie ‘Jack’: Brute Force Over Cleverness? — March 12

Oz The Great and Powerful is soaring high over Jack the Giant Slayer‘s giant kingdom at the March box office¹. And theology professor Dr. Russell Moore on March 5 provided an incidental, postmortem in retrospect on the latter live-action fairy tale.

OK, I’ll confess. It’s supposed to be good for the soul, you know.

Last Friday, after reading Matt Mikalatos’s excellent post introducing the work of Gene Wofle, I rebelled. I value Matt as a quality writer with high standards. I think he understands writing and theology and brings both to bear in his work. I think he did an excellent job giving us an overview of the work of Gene Wolfe.

But after reading his thoughts and those of some of our commenters, I put my own recent reading experience into the mix and sort of revolted–not seriously in such a way as to disown fantasy or walk away from my faith or anything drastic like that. In fact most people wouldn’t realize I was rebelling if I didn’t tell them.

But here’s the thing. In response to my little rant Friday, D. M. Dutcher, one of our Spec Faith followers, interacted with my thoughts on his own blog:

Rebecca Luella Miller had a counterpoint on her blog. She’s rebelling against the idea that there are must-read novels or styles. I think it’s more about how she shouldn’t feel forced to read something which violates her sense of ”whatsoever is good, pure, etc” from the verse. She mentions disliking the violence in Christian horror, or not being able to get through A Wizard of Earthsea due to lack of interest. The Book of the Dun Cow is an interesting choice to dislike too. I’ve read it, and it is a fairly violent little fable for what it is.

To be honest, I was surprised by D. M.’s comments. It’s never crossed my mind to use Philippians 4:8 as a standard for what I read or watch on T.V. or what movies I go to. Several years ago I realized upon reading Hollywood Worldviews: Watching Films with Wisdom & Discernment (IVP Books) by Brian Godawa that other people actually do take that verse and measure the books they choose to read against Paul’s list of things he says we should “dwell” on: whatever is true, right, honorable, pure, lovely, of good repute or reputation.

I’m not sure why I’ve never thought of that list as a standard for fiction–perhaps because I thought it unattainable in life. I mean, it’s hard to interact in this world and only let your mind dwell on the good–simply because the evil is right there beside and among the good. So too in reading.

Take Narnia, for example. Before Lucy, Susan, Edmund, and Peter ever find their way through the wardrobe, they are forced into a separation from their parents because of World War II. Then upon entering Narnia they soon encounter the tyranny of a never-ending winter and the rule of the White Witch. Was any of that pure, lovely or of good repute? No, no, and no. So do we stop reading fiction, and perhaps history too, in order to maintain this standard?

Personally, I think this list fit in with what Paul was addressing earlier in chapter four–an ongoing dispute of some kind between two Christian women. I think Paul spends verses three through eight addressing ways to bring such disputes to an end: rejoice in the Lord (a change of emphasis), speak with gentleness (a change in approach), be anxious for nothing (a change in attitude), pray (a change in power), and finally, dwell on things that are excellent and worthy of praise (a change in focus).

D. M. also mentioned my “dislike for violence.” I immediately thought of a scene I wrote in book two of The Lore Of Efrathah in which the Kadahak cannibalize one of their own. The entire series, in fact, has a good share of violence.

In my post, I had a particular book in mind when I wrote

I hefted myself through a number of “Christian horror” titles, and yes, there were messages of redemption toward the end, following pages and pages of ritual pagan human sacrifice, loss, and grief or fear and madness.

However, I was thinking less about the violent act and more about its affect on me. As I’ve thought during the weekend about my standards for what I read and write, I realize my reaction to the story plays the biggest part. From my post again:

I don’t want to read stuff that is dragging my mind and heart into despair

That’s why I would have no trouble watching Avatar again. There’s a movie that is blatantly anti-God as He revealed Himself in the pages of Scripture, and there is a lot of violence and hate. But the movie didn’t create despair, at least not in me.

So maybe the entire reading experience is subjective. Maybe there isn’t an “everyone should read this” book out there.

Maybe the best we can do is know ourselves and what’s good for us to read, what will stir us to love and good deeds, what will cause us to grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior, what will help us fix our eyes on Jesus.

So, yes, I think I’m done reading what other people tell me I ought to read. Not that I won’t entertain suggestions and recommendations, but I’m not going to give in to guilt and read stuff I know going in will leave me in a place I don’t want to be.

Is that hard-headed? Am I closing my eyes to “reality”? I’ll let you be the judge.

I’m not going to lie. I understand why my favorite science fiction author isn’t a household name. But I think he should be among Christian fans of speculative fiction.

Gene Wolfe, a devout Catholic, wrote the Book of the New Sun, a science fantasy tetralogy (currently packaged as Shadow and Claw and Sword and Citadel) which explores themes of transformation, resurrection, re-creation, identity, humanity’s relationship to God and God’s plan to save humanity.  It’s beautifully written, imaginative, entertaining and devoutly, in-your-face, gorgeously Christian.  The individual books in the tetralogy won the BSFA award for best novel, the Locus award for best novel, a Hugo award, the August Derleth award and the Campbell Memorial award for best novel. Some of the greatest writers in the world of speculative fiction have lavished Wolfe with praise, and he’s recently been awarded the title of SFWA Grand Master.

I won’t give away too much, but here’s a little taste of some of the Christian themes …  there’s an ancient God called the Increate (the uncreated one) who sent a representative called the Conciliator to Earth to prepare humanity for the coming of the New Sun. It’s a million years in our future, and our current sun is about to die. A young man from the torturer’s guild sets out on a journey during which he finds an artifact of God’s ambassador … the Claw of the Conciliator. He then seeks out his destiny. To rule the world? To save it? Is he the Conciliator? Or someone else? And who will bring the new sun? It’s an amazing science fantasy.

Having said that, Wolfe can be frustrating. He likes to use unreliable narrators. He makes obscure references, linguistic, historical, and literary, and expects his readers to keep up. He often has key action scenes take place “off stage.” I’ve finished some of his books (like An Evil Guest) and had no idea what I just read. I could tell something deep and important was going on, but felt like a five year old sitting at the dinner table listening to the adults talk about politics. The beautiful writing carried me to the end, but I still had no idea what happened.  His recent novel, The Sorcerer’s House, reveals at a certain point that the reader could reconstruct the novel in another order if they chose, a complicated invitation to a puzzle that delights some readers and frustrates others. It’s the sort of writing that allows for scholastic exploration and debate.

I know this is the frustration people have when I try to convince them to read a four novel series as an “introduction” to Wolfe. It requires patience and hard work and working through moments of confusion. The patience pays off with dazzling moments of pure joy, but I understand that four books is a lot to ask. So I thought I would list a few of Wolfe’s more overtly spiritual shorter works. This isn’t comprehensive. I list these in the hope that you’ll read one, love it, and then read everything Wolfe has written.

Perhaps the easiest thing would be to point you to the recent The Best of Gene Wolfe: A Definitive Retrospective of His Finest Short Fiction. Here are four stories from that book:

• “La Befana.” An old woman comes to a hostile planet in search of redemption for her sins, committed long, long ago.

• “Westwind.” A chance encounter reveals two people, deeply connected to God through technological means.

• “Bed and Breakfast.” A man spends the night in a bed and breakfast near Hell, and crosses paths with both a demon and a fugitive from Hell. Is this all part of a plot to ensnare him? Mirtika [Schultz, one of the founding contributors] has blogged about this one here on Spec Faith.

• “And When They Appear.” A dark (this one is pretty disturbing) Christmas ghost story about faith, innocence, family, and the loss of all three.

If you’d like to try a novel, but don’t want to start with the New Sun books, the one book I’ve found a wide variety of people to enjoy is Pirate Freedom. The speculative element is slight … it’s mostly a fun and painstakingly accurate pirate novel. The Wizard Knight duology [Book One, The Knight] is fun and accessible as well.

If you love speculative fiction, either as reader or writer, Wolfe is worth your time. If you’re a Christian wanting to improve the quality of the books you’re reading or improve your craft as a writer, Wolfe is essential.

I’ll be sure to hang out in the comments to answer questions about Wolfe and his work. I’ve read all the novels but one, and all the collected stories … I’ve missed a few uncollected works, I’m sure. He’s the sort of author whose work rewards multiple re-readings.

Clearly, I am a fan of Wolfe and I hope you will become one, if you aren’t already. For those Wolfe fans already out there, would you list different entry points into Wolfe’s work? Which is your favorite novel (or cycle of novels)?
———-
Matt Mikalatos is, most recently, the author of the fantasy novel The Sword of Six Worlds as well as the ridiculous comedy theology novels My Imaginary Jesus and Night of the Living Dead Christian. Feel free to follow him on Twitter or visit his blog. You can also check out his podcast, the Storymen (most recently interviewing Julliana Baggott, author of post-apocalyptic/dystopian novel Pure).

Just once I would like to see one of those stereotypical sidewalk-religious persons striding about inside a sandwich-sign with hand-scrawled words that read like this:

RESURRECTION IS COMING. ARE YOU READY?

Not “the end is coming.” Not “the apocalypse is coming.” Certainly not anything like “the Antichrist is coming” — which, judging from popular Christian end-times rhetoric, means that the Beast locking you out of the economy is a far worse fate than any suffering in Hell.

And maybe not even “Jesus is coming.” Only, Resurrection is Coming.

People hear “the end” or “apocalypse” and they will think Roland Emmerich disaster films, tabloids, liberal global-warming doomsaying, or perhaps the latest dystopian “long ago our Earth got nuked by aliens/disasters and now Will Smith and/or Tom Cruise returns to the wasteland” movie trailer. Even that may be more accurate than when people hear “Jesus” and think of any number of imaginary saviors (some slightly more Biblical than others).

But if you say “resurrection is coming,” that may just make people wonder.

Resurrection reflections

This film took its resurrection and hero’s-ascension themes almost “over the top.”

Pop culture has many reflections of resurrection. By now hasn’t every comic hero died and come to life? (Summer-2012 film spoilers here:) Didn’t both Tony Stark in The Avengers and Bruce Wayne in The Dark Knight Rises “die” and “resurrect”? And in classic epic fantasy, of course, Aslan, Gandalf the White, and even Harry Potter “rose again.” Death and rebirth (or resurrection) are so embedded in people’s psyches that you do not even need to explain the concept when it recurs in a novel, film, or television series. Oh, and no one seems to tire of it.

Yet these fictitious “resurrections” of fantastic heroes have their limitations.

“Hallelujah, Christ arose!”

Even in fiction, few characters live forever after defeating death.

Harry Potter will eventually die a natural death.¹ Gandalf the White goes to the Gray Havens.

Technically any of these heroes (with the exception of Narnia’s Christ-supposal Aslan) experience a metaphorical rebirth or something less than resurrection. If they do literally return to life, technically they are resuscitated, not resurrected.

Even Jesus, when raising Lazarus and parents’ children back from death, did not resurrect them. He returned them to life as a foretaste of the true resurrection, the future eternal life.

Any real-life human resuscitation, any fictitious passage from death to life, any reference to “resurrection” in boosted product sales or James Bond movie trailers — they all spring from the First and only true resurrection, and the only real and fixed resurrection so far.

Our only hope

And for the Christian, Scripture is clear: without Christ’s resurrection, we have no hope.

“If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain.”

1 Cor. 15:13-14

Picture that. The Apostle Paul, who loved to preach about Christ’s substitutionary death on the cross for sinners, who insisted we should add nothing to the Gospel, clearly states that nothing matters, none of it us true, all that is overthrown if Jesus didn’t rise from the dead.

I love the truth that Christ suffered and died as the only perfect sacrifice for rebel sinners on Good Friday. But just as much I love the truth that He rose on Resurrection Sunday.

Does it ever seem to you like Christians emphasize Good Friday over Resurrection Sunday?

Or that if we do discuss resurrection, we limit this to Christ’s capital-R Resurrection?

Or if we do discuss human resurrection, we stop short of dreaming, even speculating on it?

Or if we do wonder about human resurrection, we little anticipate creation’s resurrection?

Yet Biblically, there is not only one promised Resurrection, but three:

1. Christ is risen.
2. Humans are risen, and will rise.
3. Creation itself will rise.

That is what this new four-part series will cover, starting next week with Christ is Risen.

What other fantasy-fiction resurrections are your favorites?

What did you grow up believing about Biblical resurrection?