Did the results of Tuesday’s U.S. elections give glory to God?

Based on our answer to real-life issues like that, what about non-Christians’ stories that include non-Christian notions — do those glorify God?

As discussed last week, that depends on whether God gets glory over or through something.

That’s a simplified argument. Does God get “perfect” glory in His Church? Surely not. His former enemies, we His adopted children, have many flaws — flaws His Spirit is repairing from within. Does God get “perfect” glory from His world? Many of the Psalms extol how creation sings His praises. Yet we also learn those praises are mixed with groans (Romans 8), because creation still longs to be resurrected as we do.

We may only say for certain that God gains “100 percent” glory through the righteous life, sacrificial death, and victorious resurrection of His Son, Jesus Christ.

Yet from that His perfect glory ripples into creation and begins to reflect. People whom He redeems in turn work to redeem — not because we can make things perfect but because we honor His already/not-yet glorious perfections.

In order: 1) His creation, marred; 2) His perfect redemption of people whom He declares righteous yet also works to change; 3) His redemption of creation and our “subcreations.”

All throughout His glory shines, not as a single hue “turned up” or down, but a spectrum.

This leads to stories. If God’s multihued glories shine in all of reality — whether getting glory over or through an action — how do we find such glories in stories? How might this point us more toward the truth that reading stories can be an act of worshiping Him?

Glory over stories

Many people make stories based on sinful motives. How do we know? One test: if they’re human, they have a sinful nature and fall short of God’s glory (Rom. 3:23). All they do will also fall short, including their storytelling. Yet still God will get glory over their stories.

Lengthy discussion after this series’ part 9 focused on Phillip Pullman’s intentionally-atheist His Dark Materials books, and the Disney film The Lion King. I’ve not read Pullman’s work, and I’ve only seen The Lion King once. But a better example may be a more-popular franchise that recently lightsaber-sliced its way to the headlines.

But will this glorify God (and honor fans) better?

Does Star Wars glorify God? If we asked George Lucas, he would surely say no. He wanted to make movies and embed them with oddball pagan beliefs (even before “midichlorians”).

If we asked Christ, He might quote Scripture. What man means for evil, God means for good.

But back to the spectrum of part 9, the “rainbow” of God’s glory. What “color” is Star Wars? It depends on who is looking. Lucas may have tried to dim his films’ colors to gray shades (especially the prequels), and unredeemed people will likely not see anything beyond, much less respond accordingly. Yet for those who behold God’s white-hot glory, containing the prism of His created-colors, they can see His Story reflecting in that story:

• The vivid greens and lush blues of a world originally created beautiful and good.
• Then a dark gray explosion and billowing blacks of that good world gone wrong.
• A tingling flash of gold as a hero rises, called to join a cause far greater than himself.
• Clashes of gold against gray and black, as the hero on his journey fights against evil.
• Pooling, dark crimson as the hero faces terrible loss and seeming permanent defeat.
• And finally, crimson and gold and greens and blues overcome darkness as terrible loss suddenly turns to wondrous final victory — what Tolkien called eucatastrophe.

Any story, defined as a written or visible construct that follows this, reflects Scripture.

And contrary to some implications I’ve seen, even among speculative story fans, we should not credit man for this accidental echo of truth. Instead we credit the first Speaker for His common grace that can be heard by those so attuned by His Spirit, whose ears are open.

Glory through stories

Here’s a perennial question that’s surely buried in the minds of Christians who love stories: if non-Christians’ stories can echo God’s truth by “accident” and glorify Him, why should “Christian speculative fiction” do anything different? Shouldn’t we seek stories (or try to write stories) that only focus on story first and wait for the truths to repeat “accidentally”?

I can’t help thinking of the inherent fatalism in that well-meant perspective.

One might as well fail to share one’s faith because whether or not people come to know Christ, God will be glorified. Or fail to care for the poor, assuming God will care for them.

Only Christians have a chance to glorify God through enjoying stories, or creating their own.

Exploring requires conscious, God-exalting effort.

As redeemed saints, ours is the optimal position. We know the Author better, thanks not to us but Him, and we know the Story better, the Story that all other good stories ultimately reflect. So why not desire to glorify/worship God more “directly” in our reading?

That is why we need Christian stories, not only accidentally worshipful but intentionally worshipful. And not merely to shout louder truth but to show brighter and dazzling colors.

This is also why we read worshipfully: because we are not fatalists. Because God glorifies Himself in splendorous ways through freely chosen, intentional, robust, joy-aware reading. Because just as with political elections, He sets alternatives before us and in effect asks, Which one? Either way, He is glorified — but we should prefer glory through, not over.

Glory by contrast

What about stories that have little light and are almost dark with the author’s rebellion?

First, it occurs to me that all too often are Christians willing to indulge in those stories because they find something “redemptive.” Sure, the movie had 95 minutes of sex scenes and one intense 15-minute rape sequence, but wow, those seconds of sunshine through the forest of trees really made me think of God’s love for diverse mankind. I understand needing to put up with some things — but why seem to prefer those stories over those with better ratios?

At the same time, we as readers provide our own light. Even if a story is one long moment-before-eucatastrophe, with the final victory never arriving, we ourselves know the victory. We ourselves in reading, even “enjoying” in a sense such a story, see it contrasted with light.

Surely this is why God includes such dark descriptions in Scripture. Judges 19 is not lovely, but it’s truthful, showing why Israel needs spiritual leadership. Its darkness is set against the backdrop of God later permitting Israel to have a king. That darkness shows this turn of the story in more-vivid gold. Yet later that color also dims, fades to a background, set over the hideous darkness of anarchy but before the infinitely brighter light of the final King.

God’s light is a diamond, made even brighter in all its intrinsic colors against black velvet.

Yet we’d be fools to stare only at darkness, or to publish a Gritty Parts Only^® Bible version. (Equally foolish, I must add, would be fatalistic withdrawal from Gospel-powered politics!)

Which colors of God’s glory do you see in stories — over, through, or by contrast?

Okay, I’ve come to realize that my last few posts have been a lot of preaching. Sorry. Call it an occupational hazard. Give a pastor a soapbox, he’ll start bloviating in some way, shape, or form. So this week, let me give you the chance to “preach” at me. I want to know the answer to two questions:

1) Who is the greatest hero you’ve ever encountered in a fictional story (Christian or not)?

and

2) Who is the greatest villain you’ve ever encountered in a fictional story (Christian or not)?

And show your work? Why are you answering the way you answer?

What? Author Fred Warren won’t be able to post, and on today of all days?

I simply can’t imagine what I would write about to fill the vacancy.

This is a followup to last month’s now-complete Speculative Politics series. Stop me if you haven’t heard this one. Instead, drop my column and link over there, time permitting, and survey two great authors — Kerry “The DarkTrench Saga” Nietz and Marc “König’s Fire” Schooley — as they explore politics in fiction and reality. Only then return.

How should politics inform reality, stories, and authors’ profiles?

In short, Kerry and Marc share the same view on politics in speculative stories: story comes first. Having read their novels, I can confirm this isn’t just theory for them. (And by “story” I don’t mean a notion of “story” apart from Biblical beauty and truth. They do that very well.)

Yet they clashed mightily, yet civilly, on the issue of politics in reality.

From Kerry:

I’m unsettled by some of what Marc has written. He seems to have taken the backdrop of human history, found the terrible spots that might be in some way be attributed to the Christian church, or Christians, and used them as justification — I guess — as to why individual Christians shouldn’t vote. In America!

I’m sorry; I just can’t find the logic in that.

From Marc:

If a Christian lends her voice and support to a candidate and a political party, she is complicit in their platform and actions once elected, has attached the name of Christ to their actions, and is complicit in any unintended consequences.

[…] Given this, it’s easy to see how we’re culpable — somewhat — for our vote, and how we may drag the name of Christ through the political mud.

These become tough issues, very likely for this central reason: if you have previously been exposed to people who abuse politics one way or the other.

• If you are from a liberal/“secular” background in which imposter Christianity was a means to revisionist families, “social justice,” and imaginary future progressive utopias, you may lean toward Biblical Christians being involved in political causes.
• If you are from a “conservative” background, in which Christianity(?) was seen as a means to flag-waving Family Values and Taking Our Country Back, you may do the reverse — seeing only bad results from Christians’ involvement in culture.

Which flag should fly higher?

In brief, here’s my story: I grew up in a default Christian conservative household, yet not one where politics was over-emphasized. Voting and so on were duties, but not something to obsess over. Only in the mid- to late-‘90s did I get involved more, to the point of writing (I am not entirely ashamed of this) snarky-style student columns for my campus’s student newspaper. Since then my presuppositions of politics have changed: they are means to His end, and that end is not Family Values, man-made future “utopias,” or Christian-Nation-Ism.

Naturally I found the series fascinating, and yesterday I was finally able to offer a comment. Here it is again, with only a few edits. It consists mostly of questions based on this premise:

Our beliefs about Christians, stories, and culture-redemption should be consistent with our beliefs on real-world politics.

I had thought to write on this only after Tuesday, when all jets are much cooler.

However, that also brings the risk that the topic will have cooled just as much.

So here goes, though I’m sure it won’t be the “final word,” at least not from me!

First a few statements, and then a series of exclusive Political Challenge Questions.

• Marc Schooley and Kerry Nietz are two of my favorite authors. I’m biased. I’m also right in the middle of Freeheads, the conclusion to Nietz’s DarkTrench Saga series, and will likely be able to recommend that as easily as I have his previous novels, and Schooley’s award-winning König’s Fire.
• It’s been a delight to help organize this Speculative Politics series and see the response.
• Schooley’s novels should be read by anyone who loves truthful and beautiful storytelling with Biblical depth-delving. I speak specifically to his critics. In particular, König’s Fire explores the response of the individual, caught in a corrupt system, to align with the groaning creation and do whatever he can to save lives. You will not look at Romans 8 the same way again.
• Partway through Nietz’s third novel, I reached his first subtle reference to American patriotism. He’s a class-act author, not a clichéd jingoist flag-waver. (Not that anyone has said this.) As I wrote in my review of A Star Curiously Singing, I had hoped his sci-fi series set in an Islam-ruled society would not turn out to be one long, subtlety-lacking diatribe against Sharia law and compromise on anti-terrorism foreign policy. Reading the actual series, you don’t even get that hint. Nietz is telling a story first, just as he said that he wants to do (in part 1).
• It looks like both authors are trying to stick to Scripture as they engage with culture, both in storytelling or in political involvement (or purported non-involvement). That’s admirable. It’s also challenging to those of us who may instinctively prefer — we all struggle with this — sound-bite arguments!

So that being said, I do have some questions, mostly rhetorical and mostly for Marc.

Bear in mind, when I say “redeem” I am not speaking of a final victory here on Earth, apart from the Kingdom and apart from Christ. I speak of actions that assume He has already won and that His victory is in a sense actualized and reflected in our actions that exalt Him.

Speculative Politics: Challenge Questions

• Isn’t politics merely the governance of culture?
• If so, even without explicit Scriptural endorsement of a secular government being used by God (Rom. 13), shouldn’t Christians look at politics/government in much the same way we react to the rest of culture — art, storytelling, music, movies, and more?
• Contrary to abusus non tollit usum (roughly, the abuse of a Thing does not negate rightful use) — does the misuse of politics alone negate rightful use?
• If so, why apply this only to politics, and not money, sex, sports, Harry Potter, etc.?
• As many have already said, isn’t politics unavoidable in life — regardless of parties, positions, national platforms, and presidential polemics?
• Won’t redeemed “politics” play a role in the New Heavens and New Earth, where Scripture explicitly says kings (implying human bureaucracies!) will bring their glories into New Jerusalem (Rev. 21)? If so, why shun even attempts to “redeem” politics here?
• While many Christians have absolutely moralized and treated politics and American identity (Christian-Nation-ism, etc.) like a false religion, why act as if not-voting, rather than more love and truth based on the Gospel, is the solution?
• Won’t more Gospel in politics, rather than less, help redeem government?
• Shouldn’t the Church act like the “Christian nation” that it is? And shouldn’t this good “nation” have borders necessarily only for its own protection, and not be a nation that closes itself off and refuses to work among and with secular nations — even while supporting its (the Church’s) home citizenry and maintaining its inner integrity?
• If that proves difficult (and vocational boundaries can be fuzzy!), isn’t it true that a Christian’s individual calling — his role as parent, businessperson, engineer, artist, voter, council member — is distinct from the Church’s role?
• Derivative from that: does the Christian individual often do things the Church doesn’t do as a collective present “outpost” of the future/present Kingdom/nation?
• If that’s true, why should these callings necessarily exclude voting?
• Much has been made of the difference between the Roman empire of Paul’s day and today’s representative republic, yet what does this nation’s impersonal “emperor” — that is its highest law, the Constitution — ask of citizens? Does it assume (even if does not mandate) an active, intelligent, involved, voting citizenry?
• Do not even our human leaders — those whom we are expected to follow, if they do not contradict God’s Word — encourage political engagement and voting, as they should? If they do encourage this, why should we in this area disobey them?
• Is our motive for disengagement from politics based on distaste for its abuses — that is, a reaction — or proactive love for neighbor based on the Gospel of Jesus Christ?
• Do we fear coming off as moralizing “take our country back” jingoists more than we fear the worse consequences of Biblical Christians not being involved in our culture and its governance? If so, why base our decisions on fear or dislike of The Bad Guys? (Isn’t that what we would say those previous “government can save you” evangelicals have done?)
• Wouldn’t it be better to take a risk in praying for leaders, studying leaders, opposing or supporting leaders, changing views if necessary — while ensuring we do our best to separate our Kingdom “citizen” callings from our American citizen callings? Can we not trust in God as we seek to obey Him, to help us keep “it’s better of this nation does this” and “you can’t follow the Law; only Jesus saves” responses distinct for nonbelievers?
• With a few word changes, I will quote from commentator Austin Gunderson in part 4:: “To paraphrase James: [Biblical cultural engagement and efforts to save lives and promote Godly government] apart from voting is dead.  Show me your opinion apart from your vote, and I’ll show you my opinion by my vote.”

‘All hail the Counter-Culture (whatever it is)’?

Semi-finally, I believe Christians struggling with questions of culture need to quit basing their beliefs solely on reactions to cultures they’ve already known.

From writers’ conference cosplay controversies to church “worship wars,” it seems whole generations have grown up believing the axiom that a counter-culture is the best culture, no matter what the (often merely perceived) “dominant culture” is. Thus we get beliefs like:

• Because Perceived Majority Culture (PMC) liked organs, we like guitars.
• Because PMC liked prairie romance, we like Bizarre Speculative Fiction.
• Because PMC was too involved in politics, we’ll stay the blazes out of it.
• Because PMC wasn’t involved in politics, we’ll jump into politics headfirst.
• Because PMC sent us to public school, we’ll homeschool.
• Because PMC believes in girls wearing pants, we’ll be sure to dress them in nothing but denim skirts the rest of their days — we’ll be a “peculiar people,” as in 1 Peter 2:9 (KJV).
• Because PMC lives on the grid, we’ll buy generators for our remote mountain cabins.
• Because PMC hates the Bible, we’ll love it.

All of that is based not as much on proactive honoring of God, but as reactions to perceived Bad Guys. All throughout it’s not God, but The Counterculture that must be honored at all costs. Later, that “counter-culture” becomes majority culture. Then it all starts over again.

Maybe this is over-idealistic, but I don’t get it.

The Church, herald of the present/future Kingdom regardless of whether the world knows this truth, is the world’s default Culture. The Church announces that God has already begun to redeem culture, the physical world, and points to the future when that is fully realized. It doesn’t merely try to wrest culture from Satan’s control; it condemns evil perversions as alien and points to what in culture happens to echo God’s Word (our only sure revelation).

So the Church is not anti-culture or pro-culture. Rather, it should aggressively, graciously proclaim the Biblical Story. It also proclaims what in culture opposes that Story and what may echo the Story (thanks not to man’s goodness but to God’s common grace).

This applies to stories, speculative and otherwise — part of the art of culture.

And this applies to politics, the governance of culture.

You can’t condemn one aspect as “irredeemable” without dragging the other into it.

This is also why the Amish, who have many anti-Biblical beliefs, at least have consistent “counter-culture” beliefs. They consistently oppose culture for reasons that ultimately come down to this claim: because counter-culture. (Even while benefiting from culture.)

Someone who says and moreover practices this belief: “Christians should aggressively, with Gospel love and intent, storm into storytelling and be the best and most Biblical and beautiful at this craft, because God and not man/the devil owns great stories,” but also says, “we should avoid doing this exact same thing with politics,” seems to me inconsistent.

Politics/storytelling are merely sides of the same perennial challenge: how should the Christian nation, the Church, and its “citizens” engage with the world’s cultures?

Final notes on votes

I think I managed to condense this:

American voters: Don’t be distracted by pop-culture, media-driven questions over style, gaffe meters, sound bites, life stories, personal “likeability,” debate performance, potential for promise-keeping, relationships with previous leaders, wealth, or even religious faith.

The only question to ask about any potentially electable presidential candidate is this: Which leader is more likely to do more “to the best of [his] ability [to] preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States” (the actual oath the president swears to uphold under that higher authority, the Constitution)?

I can’t remember a fantasy in which the governmental structure is democratic. In fact, I can’t think of a science fiction, either, but my reading in that field is limited, so that doesn’t say a lot.

This lack of democracy in fantasy shouldn’t be surprising. After all, epic fantasy hearkens back to Medieval days when the feudal system was firmly in place. Rule of law was created, administrated, and adjudicated by the king and his representatives. No one voted for his rule.

Urban fantasy, dystopian, or apocalyptic fantasy seem predicated on either anarchy or tyrannical despotism. Much of science fiction seems so inclined as well. The Star Trek series might be an exception. Apparently the Federation of Planets has some form of democracy because they have a President, as I recall.

Still, I don’t recall anyone ever voting. There are coup attempts and military councils, and certainly the rule of law is considered sacred (think, “Prime Directive”), but I don’t recall any campaigning or political debate or voting!

What does that say about democracy and what does it say about speculative literature?

Is democracy too tame for novels? I mean, when a political party disagreed with an election outcome in recent US history, the matter was settled by the US Supreme Court, not by an epic battle fought with swords and spears.

Perhaps democracy is the “holy grail” of governance. For years the US has painted it as such, standing against dictatorships in World War II, Korea, Vietnam, and during the Cold War, the USSR.

Consequently, democracy would be the condition for which characters might strive, not that under which they labor.

But I don’t see democracy held up in fantasies or in science fiction as The Answer to the ills of the world. Rather, it seems as if democracy is not an option or it has led to a despotic take over, a la Rome or, in modern times, Germany.

The Answer to the ills of society seems instead to be either the benevolent rule of a King or hero, or the anarchy of the individual. Is democracy a failed experiment, then? Or is it simply lacking in the kind of conflict that makes for a good speculative story?

What does an absence of democracy say about speculative fiction? First, it appears that speculative fiction, if providing commentary about the world, disregards democracy as the true ruling force. Perhaps it speaks to the greater world than that which we experience physically, which, in my estimation, makes it True.

But perhaps speculative fiction’s commentary on democracy is that it is an interim state, a way stop between monarchy and dictatorship. Perhaps speculative fiction is mired in a hopelessness for this world to solve the problems of this world. But that, too, would seem to reflect Truth.

Of course, having said that, I immediately think of Star Wars which seems to find hope in the defeat of greedy power. Undoubtedly there are other stories of like kind. Evil loses, good—defined as a collection of people fighting evil—wins.

This question then comes to mind: is speculative fiction less concerned with portraying good than it is the fight against evil?

What are your thoughts?

I’ll conclude with this: those of you in the US, please vote tomorrow if you haven’t already voted early. Whatever you think about democracy in speculative fiction, it is the current law of the land, and consequently it’s my contention that we Christians have a responsibility to be involved in the process.

For as long as I can remember, my dad loved sci-fi. He often told me about watching the very first broadcast of Star Trek. I also have two brothers who are interested in sci-fi, so I guess it rubbed off. Growing up, I lived near the United States Air Force Academy, NORAD, and Space Command—even went to a school named in honor of the space shuttle Challenger. We had real-life space stuff going on all around us.

I recently watched an episode of Battlestar Galactica, and it made me start thinking about why I love science fiction. Possibilities. Possibilities that provide hope—for our future and for humanity. In this particular episode, most of the scenes took place in a medical bay on a spacecraft. The president was dying of cancer, and the enemy unknowingly provided a cure by way of blood cells. It was a medical drama, political commentary, and awesome science fiction all rolled into one! So while sci-fi might be a specific genre, it really is open to a multitude of possibilities.

I’ve often wondered how I would do with actual space travel. Could I handle living on the Enterprise? I doubt it. I was once an employee of Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines. I could feel the motion of the ocean in the dock. I only stayed on the ship for two weeks—seasick every moment. Now, I can only imagine what space travel is like, but if I equate it with that experience—don’t think I could do it.

Doesn’t stop me from loving it, though.

Can you imagine the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever seen…and multiply it by two or three…like the binary sunset in Star Wars: A New Hope? A ship that can zoom through our universe—or other universes—faster than light? How about a robot who seeks to protect the purity of a young woman, like Dot in Spaceballs?

None of us know what the future holds. No one can predict it. But the beauty of science fiction gives me hope for that future. I know the promise of flying cars has been dashed. I remember when Disneyland’s Tomorrowland looked forward to 1985. So our present has caught up with our future and left us empty-handed. But the advances of the mind continue to progress and perhaps, one day, they will break into reality. Until then, I find my comfort in the arms of the dreamers, hope in the stars, life among the pages of the fictional.

Just before I had my son, I was searching for something to do. Something to keep my mind sharp. I memorized the periodic table. I learned the list of presidents. I studied British kings and queens, books of the Bible, weights and measurements. I created a journal with all that information in it and carried it with me everywhere I went. Okay, so I was really bored. I had gotten married in March, and by December, I was a mom. My identity had shifted from a single career woman to wife (to a pastor, nonetheless!) and mother. Not to mention, I moved across the country, away from my family and home. It was a wacky time. I had looked for a job, but no one was hiring.

One afternoon, I pulled up some old files I had kept from my online role playing days. The characters started whispering to me. Their stories were changing, evolving from the world they knew into a completely different place I’ve come to know as the Circeae System. A couple months after my son was born, so was my first novel, Valor. Writing became my therapy. It gave me identity. It gave me purpose. I finally was in control of something. I just didn’t realize at that point how big it would get.

I went on to write several more books in the same series that I’ve called The Circeae Tales. Circeae translates to “daughter of the sun.” The novels that followed Valor are stronger and more polished. Each one was a stepping stone in learning the craft. And as I write, I have to go back and tweak things in the others to make them all work together. Did I mention that I don’t write chronologically? I start with my characters, build a scene and grow from there. Somehow, it all comes together for me. I started writing the fourth novel in my series (although as I said, at the time, I didn’t know it would be a series!) Then I wrote the second. The seventh. The ninth. The first. I have the majority of the fifth. The eighth. The third. The tenth has a few scenes. And the sixth consists of notes. But they’re all there. And I can see every one of them in my head, like I’m watching the movies. (They would make awesome movies, by the way!)

Miraculously, the ninth book in the series—Asylum—has made its way into the hands of readers. In July, it won the grand prize in the WestBow Press/Munce Group 2012 Writing Contest. This meant it would be published with WestBow and marketed through the Munce Group. I started edits at the beginning of August, and by the end of that same month, had my printed book in hand. It was a super-speedy and sometimes head-spinning experience, but quite wonderful to see the end result.

Asylum is the story of Chase and Trista Leighton. They both serve the Ghosts—a band of people engaged in a cosmic battle with the overbearing government called the Progressive Legacy. Chase is wanted by the Legacy because he is Logia, a devout and gifted follower of the Ruler Prince, the deposed ruler of the system. Trista goes out on a mission which turns out to be an ambush. She’s arrested and handed over to the Legacy’s Experimental Medicine agency. Reid Terces is the doctor in charge, and he intends to change Trista’s personality, removing her memories of Chase and the Ghosts, and turning her into a servant for Legacy purposes. Trista is given a new identity as Krissa and works as a computer analyst. The Ghosts first receive news that Trista has been executed, but then they learn of her true situation. Naturally, Chase tries to go after her, but he winds up in Legacy custody, along with his crew. They are all sentenced to the Straightjacket, despite their perfect mental health. After months of brutal treatment, the inmates of the Straightjacket riot. Just prior to this, Krissa boards the ship, assigned to fix the computers. She is taken prisoner by the other inmates. When Chase learns she is onboard, he finds himself in a struggle between reaching his wife and dealing with the identity the Legacy has created.

In this case, the title Asylum has a double meaning. We know the phrase “insane asylum” which can have a pretty bad connotation to it. Oftentimes, it’s used for haunted houses and other frightening experiences. But it also is defined as a place of safety and refuge—a sanctuary. So with the Straightjacket experience, the word asylum came to mind. And of course, I’m all for happy conclusions. Without trying to spoil the ending for the readers, the main characters, following all the harrowing events, end up in a place of safety. They find their asylum.

After having written this book, I found myself thinking about the movie Little Women. I saw the version starring Winona Ryder in the theater. Loved it. That was actually my introduction to the story. I hadn’t read it as a child, but as an adult, I certainly appreciated it. I had a good friend who had a literary crush on Professor Bhaer. We squealed through the movie together, sobbing at all the appropriate moments. It was wonderful.

As a writer, I replay the scene in my head after Jo has presented Friedrich with her manuscript. He is kind with his disapproval, and he tells her to “write what you know.”

Oh, good grief. I’m in trouble!

If I wrote what I knew…sure, I’d have some humorous stories of my children’s antics, but that’s what Facebook is for! I admire the writers who can take their everyday experiences and whip them into a New York Times bestseller. But that’s not me. That’s not where my passion lies.

I got to thinking about this “write what you know” directive. I don’t know about space travel and foreign worlds. I’ve barely been out of this country! I don’t know how spaceships work. I could list the “I don’t know” stuff all day, but you get the point. But the more and more I thought about it, the more and more I realized…I do know. I’m well versed in all things Star Trek and Star Wars. I could recite Firefly episodes to you. I’ve driven through crazy snowstorms and pretended I was entering hyperspace. Goodness, I’ve even quoted Dark Helmet—”Ludicrous speed!”

I know sci-fi. And I know what I like.

So that’s my justification, Professor Bhaer. I write what I love. I love those characters full of honor and truth. I love those worlds, strange and mysterious. I love the scope of imagination and that my God created me in His likeness…to create! And if a reader enjoys escaping with me on these fantastic voyages, all the merrier am I.

In the traditional marketplace, sci-fi is usually peppered with explicit content. Speculative fiction, thankfully, is on the rise with independent publishers, but walk into any Christian bookstore, and you’ll find mostly historical fiction or romance.

Well, that’s wonderful for those who have a taste for such fiction. My preference, however, leans toward the fantastical. So I decided to write stories like those I’d want to read—fast-paced action set among solar systems. Characters who represent honor, chivalry, and light. Plots that reveal God’s hand at work and that share His truth. A family saga connected by a fluid storyline.

It’s my prayer that Asylum—and eventually the other Circeae Tales novels—will pique a mainstream interest in Christian sci-fi. Perhaps it might even plant a few seeds in those readers who wouldn’t normally pick up a Christian book. Above all else, though, I pray that God will be glorified.

I watched a program on the History Channel a while back titled Comic Book Superheroes: Unmasked. Writer Dennis O’Neil said that the writers and editors of comic books are not just writers and editors, but they have become “custodians of folklore.”

That phrase stuck in my head as I reviewed my Asylum manuscript. All the characters that have been part of my soul—Chase, Trista, Seraph, Redic, Selah, Cam, Brax…they are real now. They haunted me until I got their stories down on paper. And now, they’ve been introduced to readers around the world.

That’s a pretty big deal.

I want people to know how Selah and Seraph save the Circeae System by restoring the glory of the Ruler Prince. I want people to learn the legend of the space sailor KinCade. I want people to feel that thrill as the Logia finally overcome the Strages. It’s been in my head for so long; it’s almost like revealing a secret that’s been eating at me. It’s a relief. It’s exciting! It’s awesome!!

I am the custodian of the Circeae folklore. And I’m ready to share it. Are you ready to experience it?

Click here for the complete series.

No matter what happens, God the Storyteller of reality will get glory for Himself, shining His wondrous worth either over or through the choices we make, in many colorful ways. That includes the stories we enjoy, or in some cases create.

Steve DeWitt in Eyes Wide Open: Enjoying God In Everything, defines glory like this:

Glory is the light of divine delight. Specifically, it is the brilliant, emanating overflow expression of God’s infinite delight in being God. Glory light expresses God’s glorious worth. God chooses to express His invisible, infinite worth in a visible, created way. A created thing can reflect or express a spiritual reality.

And what better created things can we discuss here but stories, in this (likely soon-ending) series about how Reading Is Worship? Here’s a review of the series’ second half thus far:

1. Stories have meaning beyond themselves. Knowing this meaning makes them better.
2. Scripture alone is how we know God and what glorifies Him, and know that its Story is what all other hero-quest-and-world stories reflect (even if unintentionally).
3. God glorifies Himself in more ways than a “dimmer switch” of a single light shade. His glory is an array of colors, seen in heavenly visions in Scripture and in the literal colors beheld in creation. We only give Him glory by re-mixing those colors.

Yet how we re-mix His colors, and often try to recombine them into something perverted or ugly, or simply shut our eyes and refuse to see them, leads to more questions. Does that mean “it’s all good”? Do non-Christian storytellers get credit for reflecting Biblical truth in varying hues? Might some stories be so bad they have no “color” of God’s glory?

In my view, and in order: no; no, God does; and it depends. Here’s more about why. And I believe the proof lies first in seeing the ways God gets glory, whether over or through either real-life choices, or the stories we read and enjoy.

Glory over choices

The Prince of Egypt (1998) actually shows Pharaoh’s face change as he consciously chooses to harden his own heart. (God somehow also hardened Pharaoh’s heart [Ex. 7: 3-4].)

That’s a Scriptural concept: God works good, for His glory and our good, out of evil (Gen. 50:20, Romans 8:28, and more). Evil is real, God is not the Author of evil, yet God is in control of evil and has never lost Authorship of His Story. Its villains are His villains.

One of those is Pharaoh, whom Paul first used as a good sermon illustration for both human responsibility for sin and God’s desire to use those sinful choices for His Name’s sake:

For the Scripture says to Pharaoh, “For this very purpose I have raised you up, that I might show my power in you, and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth.”

Romans 9:17

It turns out this paradox — Pharaoh’s evil, God’s good — wasn’t the apostle Paul’s idea:

“I [God] will harden Pharaoh’s heart, and he will pursue them, and I will get glory over Pharaoh and all his host, and the Egyptians shall know that I am the LORD.”

Exodus 14:4

God is not the only One who sees good come from evil choices. We ourselves may even see benefits from evildoers’ unintended consequences, as Joseph famously told his brothers:

“As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.”

Gen. 50:20

Joseph’s brothers, and Pharaoh, had their own “stories” in mind: respectively, to get rid of Joseph, and disobey God’s command to let His people go. God had his own Story in mind, and His Story, which He used to glorify Himself, was over theirs. That’s a vital preposition, over, lest we are tempted to minimize human sin while identifying the glory due to God.

Glory through choices

By contrast, God works specifically in His people to glorify Himself through their works.

One can’t speak of God’s glory without explicitly referencing Christ, the Hero of the Story: He emptied Himself and as a human obeyed God, died and rose, and ascended, so that all would know He is Lord, “to the glory of God the Father” (Phil. 2: 5-11).

With creation fallen, only Jesus can glorify God perfectly. And it’s only through His life of righteousness that people are made righteous, and can begin to glorify God more directly.

Thanks to Jesus, God can be glorified through us consciously, not only over us.

That’s the exploration of God’s glory over and through reality. Next comes more about how He glorifies Himself over and through different sorts of stories.

Do you “observe” Halloween? Not observe it? Have you changed from one view to another? Share your thoughts below. Or peruse the following Halloween-related links. Or give your views on the horror(?) that is The Mouse’s assimilation of a willing Star Wars franchise.

Concerning Halloween — James B. Jordan

In this column the theologian and author of Through New Eyes: Developing a Biblical View of the World and Creation in Six Days: A Defense of the Traditional Reading of Genesis One shares his Biblical/historical view of Halloween’s origin. “This is “the best article on Halloween written, hands down,” says SF contributor A.T. Ross. “Jordan mops the floor with legalism and all of the myths many Christians have still imbibed.” From Jordan:

Satan’s great sin (and our great sin) is pride. Thus, to drive Satan from us we ridicule him. This is why the custom arose of portraying Satan in a ridiculous red suit with horns and a tail. Nobody thinks the devil really looks like this; the Bible teaches that he is the fallen Arch-Cherub. Rather, the idea is to ridicule him because he has lost the battle with Jesus and he no longer has power over us.

[…] Thus, the defeat of evil and of demonic powers is associated with Halloween. For this reason, Martin Luther posted his 95 challenges to the wicked practices of the Church to the bulletin board on the door of the Wittenberg chapel on Halloween. He picked his day with care, and ever since Halloween has also been Reformation Day.

 From ChristArt.com.

Shooting at Halloween pumpkins — E. Stephen Burnett

From myself: “At Halloween, do demons really run wild over neighborhoods and souls? Or might Christians ‘demonize’ decorations, to the glee of the actual Devil? This former pumpkin-‘killer’ explores our actual worst enemies, and the One Who defeated them.”

Satan, The Imaginary, And Halloween — Rebecca LuElla Miller

From Becky: “How we as Christians celebrate Halloween, then, hinges on these three factors — our view of Satan, our understanding of the imaginary, and what we want to say to our culture. Is there one right way of doing Halloween? I don’t believe so. I do believe we should avoid pointing the finger at other Christians and saying that they’re doing it wrong.”

Casting the ‘riddikulus’ spell on Halloween

This is my summary of a fantastic piece at a blog called Alastair Adversaria, Of Boggarts. My summary: “The author’s suggestion: the Harry Potter series, by virtue of its created-world and with its third book’s specific subplot about fighting against certain magical creatures, can help Christians react better to some evils.” More from the author:

In the light of the gospel we can, like Harry and his classmates, learn to perform the riddikulus charm on our demonically-induced fears. After the gospel has taken effect we can mock things that once terrified us. This is one of the purposes of the celebration of Halloween. The gospel reveals that much of the fear that Satan excited in men prior to the advent of Christ resulted merely from the exaggerated shadows that he cast in the darkness. Now that light has come the shadows are removed and Satan is reduced to a far less terrifying stature. We can begin to laugh at the shapes that we once saw in the shadows.

Whilst there are undoubtedly evil forces at work in our world — Harry’s world contains Dementors and Death Eaters, not just Boggarts — we need to learn that many of the terrors that haunt us are merely products of our fearful imaginations. Satan loves to have the huge shadows that he tries to cast taken seriously. We will only truly defeat him when we learn to laugh at the shadows, walking through death’s shade while fearing no evil.

Speaking of the Devil’s work and the defeat of evil …

Darren Aronofsky’s Noah: Environmentalist Wacko — Brian Godawa

The Biblical fantasy novelist and screenwriter (To End All Wars) is not a fan of the Noah movie script. (The film, starring Russell Crowe, recently had its filming interrupted by the real-life floods of Hurricane Sandy.) The movie fails in its absurd creative license, radical-environmentalist themes, characters, and especially its portrayal of God. From Godawa:

Noah is depicted as attempting to follow God’s will in the script, a will that includes the complete annihilation of the human race, as opposed to the Genesis depiction of starting over with eight humans to repopulate and ultimately provide a Messiah.

[…] It seems everyone in this story is more compassionate than God.

Speaking of horrors and Brian Godawa …

An Apologetic of Horror — series by Brian Godawa

In this series he sets the record straight on the horror genre — not every horror story or film, some of which do celebrate evil, but the perception that all horror stories are only evil.

Horror is not an inherently evil genre of storytelling. It can be used for gratuitous evil purposes, or for godly moral purposes. The Bible tells many stories using the horror genre in order to inspire holy fear of evil and admonish or chastise those in sin.

Finally …

If you know Axe Cop, this needs no explanation. Only celebration.

If you don’t know Axe Cop, you may make the error of one YouTube commentator: “This looks like it was invented by a nine-year-old!” A five-year-old, actually. And drawn by his grown-up (and professing Christian) cartoonist brother.

“Good morning, folks. I’m John Smith of Channel 24 Action News, and today we’re visiting Resurrection Church for an interview with one of its most unusual parishioners, Ms. Lupe DeLuna. You won’t want to miss this. Lupe is an honest-to-goodness werewolf! Lupe, thanks for agreeing to spend some time with us.”

“No problem, John. Us werewolves get a ton of bad press, but I’m trying to show everyone that we’re not much different from regular humans, down deep. We’ve got special challenges, can’t deny that, but some of us have found a way to overcome them without taking the silver bullet route, if you know what I mean.”

“First off, I have to admit I’m surprised to see you here, inside a church. I always thought monsters were dangerous, out-of-control, and, well, unredeemable.”

“That’s what I used to think. I did some pretty awful things before I became a Christian. All those full-moon nights were beginning to add up, and I had a load of guilt. I knew I needed to change, and I tried everything…meditation, twelve-step programs, jazzercise, whole foods…nothing worked.  I was ready to give up, but fortunately, God hadn’t given up on me. Now, I’ve got a new life and hope for the future.”

“I would have expected they’d put you in charge of something more…distinctive…like collections, but I’m told you’re the janitor here.”

“Keeping this place tidy is a full-time job. I channel my rage into the battle against dust and grime. And let me tell you, you haven’t fought evil until you’ve done hand-to-hand combat with the plumbing of a 100-year-old Methodist church. The stories I could tell you…”

“Perhaps next time. Why did you decide to settle in with this congregation?”

“I feel at home here. There are so many monsters, I don’t stand out much.”

“Monsters? Everyone here except you looks like a normal human being. Ah, no offense…your coat is an extremely attractive shade of sable, and perfectly groomed. The purple hair ribbon is a nice touch.”

“None taken. And thank you. I try to look my best, even when it’s ‘that time of the month.’ Yeah, the thing people don’t realize about monsters is that we’re pretty good at hiding in plain sight. Take that lady over there in the third pew from the front, for example.”

“The one on her knees, completely absorbed in prayer?”

“Yep. She’s a witch.”

“Really? She doesn’t look like one.”

“Witches are as witches do, bub. Right now, she’s praying for that tropical storm in the Gulf to tear across Miami Beach and send all the moral reprobates living there straight to Hell. She thinks prayer is some kind of magical incantation she can use to take out her enemies. And see that row of teenagers behind her? They’re witches, too.”

“How can you tell? They aren’t praying. They’re just sitting there looking bored…and texting.”

“You should see them on Saturday night. They spend most of their time running down the list of things their parents tell them not to do, and then they do the opposite. Rebels, the lot of them.”

“What does that have to do with being a witch?”

“First Samuel 15:23. Look it up.”

“What about the gray-haired church ladies on the far aisle?”

“Shh! Not so loud. They’re demons.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Dead serious. They do so much of the devil’s work with their gossip, Old Scratch hasn’t sent any of his minions around here for ages.”

“Retired folks on the back row?”

“Mummies. Well-preserved, always talking about their stitches and bandages.”

“Young married couples up front wearing the designer sportswear?”

“Vampires. Somebody invited them in once, and they stayed for the social programs and free day care. Great at taking. Giving…not so much. Before you ask, most of the crowd in the middle are zombies. Stagger in, zone out during the sermon, stagger out.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask about the pastor. Surely he’s not a monster?”

“Him? He’s a ghost. This crowd sucked most of the life out of him a long time ago.”

“I don’t get it. If things are so bad, why do you stay here?”

“Hey, I’m no better than the rest. I have to fight my evil habits every minute, and I don’t always win. I’m too rough with people. If I don’t watch myself, I go straight for the throat. Poor little Joey over there wet his pants last month when I caught him sticking gum under the pew and lost my temper. Hey there, Joey…smile for the camera. Atta boy. He’s a good kid. What I’m trying to say is, people don’t come here because they’re perfect. They come here because they need fixing, and we all do our best to help each other…most of the time, when we’re paying attention. It’s like God is the ultimate Mad Scientist, putting all us hopeless, dead monsters onto the table and restoring us to life. Some of us need more work than others. It pays to be patient around here.”

“Words to live by. And with that, we’ll conclude our chat with Ms. DeLuna. Thanks for sharing your unique perspective with our viewers, Lupe.”

“You really ought to hang around for the sermon. Preach is looking extra lively today. It’ll do you good.”

“No, I don’t think so. We’ve got to cover a political rally in an hour.”

“That’s too bad. Doppleganger like you could use a good shot of truth. I bet it’s rough having to be all things to all people all the time.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Wait…what?”

Evil is one of the more compelling topics of theology, literature, and philosophy. Does evil exist? If so, where did it come from? And why can’t an all powerful God dispatch it? Fantasy as a genre is dedicated to an examination of evil in conflict with good. As we might expect, the great fantasy writers of the modern era led the way.

J. R. R. Tolkien created some classic representations of evil–corrupted men (the Ringwraiths), a corrupted wizard (Saurman), and a Ring able to corrupt all.

It is the Ring I find most fascinating. As Dr. Michael D.C. Drout (Weaton College) said in Exploring Fantasy Literature: Course Guide

The Ring was made by and belongs to Sauron, the Dark Lord, who is attempting to conquer all of Middle-earth. It was lost many years ago, but now it is trying to get back to its master, who is seeking it. With the Ring, the Dark Lord is effectively invincible. If the Ring were to be destroyed, the Dark Lord would fall. Furthermore (and this is the key gimmick) the Ring cannot be used for good: it is somewhat sentient, and it can turn anyone who uses it for domination into a slave of the Dark Lord.

Tolkien, as most speculative readers know, was not attempting an allegory. Nevertheless, his mythopoetic world, the result of his sub-creation, contains parallels with reality. In fact, his world throws revelatory light on what he believed about certain things in the real world. One of those things is evil.

Based on Dr. Drout’s summary above, I think it’s safe to conclude that Tolkien believed evil existed, that it came from some source other than God, and that it could never be used for good.

These seem to be Biblical positions as well. James 1:13 clearly divorces evil from God:

Let no one say when he is tempted, “I am being tempted by God”; for God cannot be tempted by evil, and He Himself does not tempt anyone.

Throughout Scripture evil or wickedness is contrasted with good or righteousness. Perhaps no passage lays out the duality as clearly as Psalm 1:

How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked,
Nor stand in the path of sinners,
Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!
But his delight is in the law of the LORD,
And in His law he meditates day and night.
He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water,
Which yields its fruit in its season
And its leaf does not wither;
And in whatever he does, he prospers.
The wicked are not so,
But they are like chaff which the wind drives away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
Nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.
For the LORD knows the way of the righteous,
But the way of the wicked will perish.

The Apostle Peter reiterates the distinction in his first letter:

“For the eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous,
And His ears attend to their prayer,
But the face of the Lord is against those who do evil.” (1 Peter 3:12)

Notice, however, that this duality of opposition is not a duality of two equal entities. Evil is not a force of equal or greater value in opposition to God.

Genesis 1:1 makes this clear. God was in the beginning, not God and a second god responsible for evil. At the same time, Genesis 1 makes it clear that God did not create evil. All He made was good.

So where does evil come from?

According to Tolkien, the Dark Lord created the One Ring to rule them all, to bind them. Did he believe that the One Ring was the equivalent of Evil or Sin? Hard to say. I’ve not read any commentary on this point. But clearly he created the Ring as a corrupting agent, and since we know from Scripture that Sin taints all Mankind and corrupts the world (see Rom. 8:22), it’s not a stretch to see similarities between the Ring and Sin.

But that doesn’t answer the question about Evil. Rather, the existence of Sauron more nearly addresses that topic. He is the embodiment of Evil in Middle Earth, and the Ring is simply his tool.

In Scripture, the rebellious, fallen angel we know as Satan seems to embody evil. He was the agent of temptation, not only of Eve and Adam, but also of Christ. Nevertheless, his evil is not something he created but is the negation of God. He brought into question God’s word (“Has God said …”), God’s truth (“You surely will not die”), God’s sovereignty (“you will be like God”).

In short, Satan is all that God is not. God is not limited or sinful or selfish or merciless. At the same time, Satan is not what God is. God is all powerful, omniscient, unchanging, wise, good.

Evil, then, is not God. It is in direct opposition to God but it is in no way equal to Him.

Tolkien’s exploration of evil and sin in his stories, as good as it is, falls short in this last point, I believe–perhaps because he has no clear depiction of God (although I could be wrong on this since I haven’t read all his stories).

He shows Sauron as the most powerful force, one that will inevitably win unless the Ring can be destroyed. The Elves and Men are noble because they are committed and willing to die in what appears to be a hopeless cause. In other words, in Middle Earth, Evil has the upper hand.

Is that a reflection of reality? Only if God isn’t painted into the picture. So in The Lord of the Rings, it was accurate, but in real life, though Evil may appear to be winning, there is a great deal more to the story.