Painters seldom paint with primary colors. Generally those building blocks become the components of a more complex color and various shades of it. In many ways, writing can be equated with the use of primary colors. J. R. R. Tolkien used that metaphor, anyway, when he explained his thoughts about fantasy—or fairy stories, as he called them.

I’ve wondered what J. R. R. Tolkien would think about today’s darker fantasies. Would the author of “On Fairy-Stories” be a fan of stories about vampires or dystopian worlds filled with violence? These are interesting questions.

For whatever reason, when Christmas roles around each December, my thoughts turn to fantasy. I love nothing better than snuggling under a warm blanket on a cold wintry day, and reading a favorite fantasy. It’s how I role. And what better way to think about fantasy than to look again at what the master of fantasy had to say on the subject.

Tolkien believed that fairy stories were a means to three particular desirable conditions: recovery, escape, and consolation.

Escape

Many speculative writers are familiar with his thoughts on escape. I myself have written a number of posts on the subject here at Spec Faith (see for example “What to Make of Dragons, Part 7 – Escapism”). We probably know less about his thoughts on recovery and consolation, however. In exploring what he wrote about the former, I find ideas that suggest how he might react to today’s fantasy.

Recovery Defined

First, what exactly did Tolkien mean by “recovery”?

Recovery (which includes return and renewal of health) is a re-gaining — regaining of a clear view . . . We need, in any case, to clean our windows; so that the things seen clearly may be freed from the drab blur of triteness or familiarity—from possessiveness. Of all faces those of our familiares are the ones both most difficult to play fantastic tricks with, and most difficult really to see with fresh attention, perceiving their likeness and unlikeness: that they are faces, and yet unique faces. This triteness is really the penalty of “appropriation”: the things that are trite, or (in a bad sense) familiar, are the things that we have appropriated, legally or mentally. We say we know them. They have become like the things which once attracted us by their glitter, or their color, or their shape, and we laid hands on them, and then locked them in our hoard, acquired them, and acquiring ceased to look at them.

I wonder if this familiarity might not be a serious problem for Christian writers, explaining why our fiction, even our fantasies, seem to lack a freshness. We know the rudiments of our faith, and it is these elemental principles that we realize the rest of the world needs to embrace, so we convey them over and over until they lose some of their power and potency, even for us.

God is a God of grace. Jesus died for our sins. Ho-hum, Christmas again, a celebration of the Incarnation. Familiar terms trip off our tongues with ease, but with less and less meaning. And the concepts find their way into our fiction, but with less and less force.

The need, Tolkien suggests, is recovery, but many writers despair:

Who can design a new leaf? The patterns from bud to unfolding, and the colors from spring to autumn were all discovered by men long ago. But that is not true. The seed of the tree can be replanted in almost any soil . . . Spring is, of course, not really less beautiful because we have seen or heard of other like events: like events, never from world’s beginning to world’s end the same event. Each leaf, of oak and ash and thorn, is a unique embodiment of the pattern, and for some this very year may be the embodiment, the first ever seen and recognized, though oaks have put forth leaves for countless generations of men.

We do not, or need not, despair of drawing because all lines must be either curved or straight, nor of painting because there are only three “primary” colors.

In the same way, Christian writers need not despair because there is only one way to salvation, because there is only one begotten Son of God, because by grace alone may we be reconciled to God. In other words, Truth is not limiting to the writer since it impacts people in different ways. Christians, however, seem to tell the Old, Old Story in an old, old way.

A writer who recognizes weariness of The Same, will inevitably try to break free:

there may be a danger of boredom or of anxiety to be original, and that may lead to a distaste for fine drawing, delicate pattern, and “pretty” colours, or else to mere manipulation and over-elaboration of old material, clever and heartless. But the true road of escape from such weariness is not to be found in the wilfully awkward, clumsy, or misshapen, not in making all things dark or unremittingly violent; nor in the mixing of colors on through subtlety to drabness, and the fantastical complication of shapes to the point of silliness and on towards delirium. (Emphasis mine.)

Recovery Advocated

So Tolkien apparently saw no answer in exploring to the edges (or beyond) of Truth and Beauty. Rather, the great need is Recovery.

Before we reach such states we need recovery. We should look at green again, and be startled anew (but not blinded) by blue and yellow and red.

Being “startled anew” by God’s love, for example, a Christian writer is freed to make old truth shine like a new beacon:

Creative fantasy, because it is mainly trying to do something else (make something new), may open your hoard and let all the locked things fly away like cage-birds. The gems all turn into flowers or flames, and you will be warned that all you had (or knew) was dangerous and potent, not really effectively chained, free and wild; no more yours than they were you.

So what do you think? Would Tolkien believe that gems turned into flowers, or flames in the darker contemporary fantasies? In dystopian fiction or urban fantasy? Or would he think these things “dark or unremittingly violent” or “mixing of colours on through subtlety to drabness, and the fantastical complication of shapes to the point of silliness and on towards delirium”? would he see vampire and werewolf stories as appropriate use of the primary colors an author has in his pallet?

My guess? He’d see a few gems but a lot of drabness and maybe even some delirium in the stories of today.

Much of this article is a reprint of a post from December 2011.

Featured Photo by Paul van Dijk from FreeImages

The End Of The Magi by Patrick Carr

INTRODUCTION—THE END OF THE MAGI BY PATRICK CARR

Following his vision of the coming Messiah, the prophet Daniel creates a select group of men who will count down the calendar to the arrival of Israel’s promised king. Centuries later, as the day nears, Myrad, a young magi acolyte, flees for his life when his adoptive father and others are put to death by a ruthless Parthian queen.

Having grabbed only a few possessions, Myrad escapes the city, and searching for a way to hide from the soldiers scouring the trade routes, he tries to join the caravan of the merchant Walagash. The merchant senses that Myrad is hiding secrets, but when the young man proves himself a valuable traveler, an epic journey filled with peril, close escapes, and dangerous battles begins.

With every day that passes, the calendar creeps closer to the coming Messiah. And over everything shines the dream of a star that Myrad can’t forget and the promise that the world will never be the same.

EXCERPT FROM THE END OF THE MAGI BY PATRICK CARR
From Chapter 2

Myrad reached up to adjust the circlet slipping to the right to rest unceremoniously on his ear, another sign, and not the least, that he didn’t belong. He removed the band of silver copper alloy and squeezed it between his hands, hoping to force the emblem of power and influence into a better approximation of his head. The single palm engraved on it mocked him.

Gershom took the crown with his ink-stained hands and balanced it atop Myrad’s head. “Until we have time to have it fitted to you, the trick is to carry yourself so it doesn’t slip.” His eyes crinkled. “And carrying your head high and steady will convey confidence.”

Gershom grabbed his ceremonial quill and parchment. Then he retrieved a pair of jeweled ceremonial daggers, which he placed through their sashes. With a nod, his adoptive father turned him toward the door. “It’s time. Remember, walk one step behind and to the right, as is proper for an apprentice.”

They stepped out into the hallway. With his first ungainly step, the circle of metal resumed its accustomed position on his ear. His trousers couldn’t disguise his deformity. Beneath the flowing silk his right foot was fixed, bent inward, forcing him to walk on the outer edge. Try as he might, he couldn’t straighten it or keep the limp from staggering his gait for more than a few feet without pain. After the fourth attempt to keep the symbol of elevation atop his head, he gave up, determined to carry the crown in his hands until they reached the imperial court. His fingers brushed the engraved palm. Someday, if he rose high enough in the ranks of the magi, there would be five more to keep it company.

They rounded the corner, merging into a vaulted hallway decorated with tiles in a thousand shades of blue, and their solitude vanished. Everywhere Myrad looked, magi flowed toward the throne room where King Phraates IV, the Arsacid, the king of kings, held court. Brilliant colors rippled with their steps, every shade of the rainbow in evidence. Two men, walking close to each other and speaking in whispered tones, wore crowns bearing six palms.

“Father.”

Gershom turned, his dark eyes, even more wary than before. “Yes?”

“Do you think I will ever attain the sixth palm?”

His hand drifted up to touch the four palms of his own crown. “Who knows? Perhaps you shall. It’s not unknown for Hebrews to be elevated to the highest positions in the land. Do you wish to be one of the twenty? A satrap bears much responsibility.”

Myrad looked at the men again. Something in their conversation must have concerned them. The man on the left schooled his features to stillness, but a muscle twitched in his cheek as he glanced over his shoulder at the guards following as if seeking reassurance. The man on the right brushed his hand against the dagger at his belt. The folds of silk parted enough for Myrad to see a plain hilt, no jewels or decorations, just functional leather.
Dropping his voice to a whisper, he nodded toward them. “Father, they’re frightened. Why?”

Muscles twitched along his father’s jawline. “Musa.”

The king’s concubine? What did she have to do with this?

A man with five palms on his crown stepped out of a side corridor, matching their pace. A moment later, when they came to another intersection, the man put a hand on his father’s shoulder.

“Gershom, a word.”

His father pointed toward one of the heavy columns lining the passage, and they stepped aside into the shadows. “Masista, I thought you were in Antioch.” They exchanged arm clasps, but the other magus’s expression never warmed.

“Phraates had me recalled. He no longer wishes to oppose the might of Rome with might of our own.” His face twisted. “He wishes a more conciliatory stance.” He leaned in closer. “There are whispers,” Masista added. “Musa means to be queen despite the vote of the magi.” His eyes darted toward the recesses of the hall. “You need to leave Ctesiphon.”

Gershom shook his head. “The magi have been kingmakers in Persia for centuries. Whatever Musa intends is of no importance. Why are you telling me this?”

The planes of Masista’s face hardened. “We’ve become too much like the Romans. Our kings slaughter their way to power, and blood is spilled in the throne room. The influence of the magi has waned with the years. Augustus’s concubine has the king’s heart in her hand. Do you think mere tradition will stop them?”

Gershom straightened, his head lifting a fraction. “I’m not so naïve as you might believe. I have made preparations. If need be, Myrad and I can flee.”

“Then go now. There are more soldiers in the palace than usual. Many more.” The magus glanced once more over his shoulder and then left them, continuing toward the throne room without looking back.

“Who is he, Father?” Myrad was shaken by the conversation. “A friend?”

Gershom pursed his lips. “He’s one of our emissaries to Rome and Armenia. Not necessarily a friend, but not someone to ignore either. Your apprenticeship can wait. I think a quick trip out of the city for a few days would be wise.”

They started back toward their quarters, but before they made it to the previous crossway, soldiers in gleaming mail stepped into their path to block them. “The king requests the presence of all magi tonight,” the soldier in the middle ordered. “No exceptions.”

Gershom’s hand found Myrad’s arm, squeezing a warning. “Of course, Captain. I have forgotten some important papers in my rooms.” He stepped to the side, but again the soldier blocked his way.

Gershom bowed. “Perhaps you would allow my son to retrieve them for me? He’s not one of the magi.”

The captain studied Myrad with a hard gaze that stopped at the circlet he held at his side. “The king demands the presence of all magi. Now.”

Myrad tried to swallow the knot of fear in his throat, but it wouldn’t go away. Politics in the empire could be ruthless and bloody. The magi were the stabilizing influence, the power behind the throne that smoothed tensions between clans. No king would attack his own magi, would he? He swallowed again, or tried to.

They turned a corner, and the corridor, already massive, opened, the ceiling fleeing toward the sky as echoes of a thousand conversations merged into worried murmurs. Ahead, a large vaulted arch led to the imperial throne room. Rank upon rank of cataphracts stood at attention before the doors, hereditary nobles sworn to fight for the satraps or the king. Each man wore scaled armor and a helm covering everything except the eyes, and each held a long spear in addition to the sword belted at his waist. Masista stood at the back of the crowd in front of them, then melted into it with a last look of warning.

Gershom stopped so quickly that Myrad walked into his back. The buzz of voices in the entrance hall carried nervous undercurrents. He heard snatches of conversations, the tone becoming strident as they waited for admittance. Then the massive doors to the king’s court opened, and momentary relief settled over the assembled magi as those closest stepped through.
His father didn’t move but stood staring behind them at the way they’d come. Quickly, he turned away. Myrad shifted his weight to his good foot to look backward.
His father’s hand found his shoulder. “Don’t.”

“What’s back there?”

“Soldiers,” his father whispered. “Many of them. Listen to me, Myrad. The magi are about to cast their final votes to confirm or deny Musa as queen. The votes will be taken in order of rank with the satraps first and the apprentices last. You must vote in opposition to me.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I know and that’s my fault.”

“But—”

Gershom clutched at his tunic, pulling him forward. “Don’t argue. Just watch me and vote in opposition, and pray no one will think to connect you to me. If nothing happens, then I’ll explain.”

“And if something does happen?”

His father touched the dagger at his belt. “Then find me. Now stand apart and go in with the last of the apprentices. We don’t want the king’s men to see us talking.”

AUTHOR BIO—BY PATRICK CARR

Patrick W. Carr was born on an Air Force base in West Germany at the height of cold war tensions. He has been told this was not his fault. As an Air Force brat, he experienced a change in locale every three years until his father retired to Tennessee.

Patrick saw more of the world on his own through a varied and somewhat eclectic education and work history. He graduated from Georgia Tech in 1984 and has worked as a draftsman at a nuclear plant, did design work for the Air Force, worked for a printing company, and consulted as an engineer. Patrick’s day gig for the last eight years has been teaching high school math in Nashville, TN. He currently makes his home in Nashville with his wonderfully patient wife, Mary, and four sons he thinks are amazing: Patrick, Connor, Daniel, and Ethan. While Patrick enjoys reading about himself, he thinks writing about himself in the third person is kind of weird.

On October 31st my regular Thursday slot for Speculative Faith happened to fall on Halloween and now the same slot falls on the Thanksgiving holiday in the United States, about a month later. It might come as a surprise to some people, but I’m going to offer the same bottom-line advice about both holidays. Just as I recommended “Reedem Your Halloween,” likewise let me suggest you redeem your Thanksgiving! (What I mean by referencing the phrase “Day of the Action of Thanks” I will explain lower down.)

The article on Halloween looked at an Answers in Genesis article that suggested that the Halloween holiday reflects a memorial that ultimately may have its origins in the Flood of Noah. I found flaws with that reasoning (holidays related to the harvest are not as universal as Answers in Genesis suggested), but agreed when the article said that even though there are clear Pagan roots in elements of Halloween, we can claim it and celebrate it if we choose to do so. Though not celebrating is also fine, I said. But if we celebrate it, we ought to celebrate it in a way that intentionally honors God, I said.

“How can he say the same thing about Thanksgiving?” someone might ask. “Thanksgiving is as opposite as possible from Halloween!” someone might declare. Not even close to everyone would say that, of course. But the person who would say it probably would be thinking about the fact the origins of Halloween are ancient and traditional and a bit obscure but clearly have Pagan elements. Whereas the origin of the Thanksgiving is not at all ancient and is considerably less obscure and is definitely Christian.

Abraham Lincoln’s 1863 proclamation of a US Federal holiday dedicated to Thanksgiving did not begin the holiday for the first time, but unified a number of different celebrations of thanks held differently in various US states back then. But still, all of the pre-1863 versions of Thanksgiving in the United States (many of them declared as special holidays based on specific events that didn’t repeat every year) were thoroughly Christian. A day of Thanksgiving was set aside to pray to thank God for something or other within the bounds of not only Christian tradition, but more specifically, English-speaking Protestantism. Though our most famous example, the feast of the Pilgrims in 1621 at the time of the harvest in Plymouth Colony was of course both a day of eating and of prayers of gratitude.

For the 1863 holiday, the feasting as part of the giving of thanks wasn’t as important as the thanking. (Lincoln felt that during the horrors of the US Civil War, officially remembering to be thankful on a specific day, the last Thursday in November, would provide a boost for United States morale at a grim point in history.)

Though pretty much right away the feasting rivaled the thanking in importance. Traditional Thanksgiving dishes were derived from foods people in the late 1800s  thought early settlers to the United States enjoyed. (Though the menus weren’t always historically accurate–for example, did you know the Pilgrims’ famous meal in Plymouth Bay in 1621 included venison and shellfish?) Though of course as important as feasting was, it didn’t displace the thanking God part.

Since it became common for most people to have Thanksgiving Day off work for almost all jobs (this became standard in the late 1800s and early 1900s), Thanksgiving Day became the day above almost all other days to set up a reunion with family and enjoy their company in a group. Christmas probably has always been number 1 in that regard, but in the USA, Thanksgiving came to mean “family” perhaps even more than Christmas. For a while, at least. Though of course, it was generally expected that getting the whole family together and having a feast with them would also include thanking God as a group.

Because Thanksgiving falls within the season in which American football is played, it was a pretty early development that someone decided that since people are off work on Thanksgiving Day, they might enjoy a football game. The first football game held on Thanksgiving was the 1934 match between the Detroit Lions and Chicago Bears, broadcast nationally on radio (the Lions lost). Eventually of course other football games, more than just one per day, would be scheduled for Thanksgiving, so that, for many families in the United States, football-watching dominates what people actually do on the holiday. Though you can gather family together, have a feast, watch football, and also thank God, right?

Though Thanksgiving also falls in the period prior to Christmas, which has for a very long time been the premier holiday in which to buy presents in Western culture (and now, all around the world). Retailers came up with the idea of boosting their sales post-Thanksgiving by advertising themselves on Thanksgiving by sponsoring a parade. This actually happened in Canada first, in 1905, but was copied in the USA starting in 1924 by Macy’s. And the tradition of having a parade on Thanksgiving Day continues, with the idea that the parade would boost sales for the Christmas season after Thanksgiving was over. Though of course you can get family together, have a feast, watch football and/or a parade, and also thank God.

It wasn’t until the 1950s it became extremely common for people to take the day after Thanksgiving off work as a major day for shopping and not until 1966 that the term “Black Friday” was coined for the frenzy that post-Thanksgiving discounts inspire. Because of the fact that it used to be the case that retailers had an agreement among themselves that major promoting of Christmas sales wouldn’t start until Thanksgiving was over, giving that holiday some space, “Black Friday” reigned supreme for a number of decades as the official opening of the Christmas shopping season (and of course is still very important).

Though the traditional respect retailers used to have for Thanksgiving Day doesn’t hold true anymore. Post-2000, we see certain sales deals arising prior to Black Friday. A “Pre-Black Friday” sale, plenty common nowadays, actually means a sale on Thanksgiving Day (or even earlier than Thanksgiving, but to include Thanksgiving Day). So that adds shopping to the things people do on Thanksgiving. But a person can still get together with family, have a feast, watch football, watch a parade, go shopping, and still offer thanks to God, right?

And here’s the point we admit the truth. Yes, people can as in it’s possible, but is that what people actually do? Even the common current use of “Turkey Day” to jokingly refer to the holiday downplays the thanking part. While I would say most people really do think you ought to reflect on your blessings on Thanksgiving Day, isn’t it true that most people do so very briefly? And of course, no surprise, a culture that isn’t mindful of God in general isn’t into thanking God specifically. Even those who feel thankful are often not thankful to God.

I don’t want to overstate the case here and claim that in 1863, one hundred percent of everyone only prayed and thanked God on Thanksgiving Day, whereas now the percentage of Americans who do so has fallen into the single digits. That wouldn’t quite be true–there were secularists even in 1863, for example–so the sentence before this one would be an exaggeration of what actually is true. Though it in fact is true that the celebration of Thanksgiving Day has changed–there really is less thanking now and a lot more of everything else than there used to be.

For some people, what Thanksgiving has become is so commercial and revolting that they may not want to celebrate it at all. Hey, if they don’t want to, that’s their business. Though I imagine that attitude is rare–probably the main people who don’t celebrate Thanksgiving are those from other countries in which it isn’t its own holiday (such as the United Kingdom). But for me, I want celebrate the holiday while deliberately remembering the specific Christian meaning behind the very idea of Thanksgiving–that is, thanking God for blessings.

In an interesting irony, I chose this image from a nation that doesn’t recognize an official national day of thanksgiving. Image credit: Jesuit.org.uk

Which brings me around to something I mentioned both in my first paragraph and the title of this piece. If you don’t speak Spanish you may not have known this, but in Spanish, there is no single word that means “thanksgiving.” So the name of the US holiday “Thanksgiving Day” is usually rendered in Spanish as “Día de Acción de Gracias.” Which, if you translated that literally back into English would mean: “day of the action of thanks.” Yes, exactly.

Image credit: playbackmedia.com

There should be an action with our thanking, something we actually do, as we literally offer prayers in the act of expressing thanksgiving to the God who gave us the things we are thankful for. That’s how we redeem our Thanksgiving, my friends, that’s how we do it the way it was intended to be done. We can have the feasting and family time and football and parading and shopping, too. But we cannot forget the literal thanking–yes, thanking people is good and should be part of the holiday as well. But first and foremost, we redeem our Thanksgiving by thanking God in prayer. Openly and without shame.

Don’t forget to do that–even though surrounded by a culture jokingly calling the holiday “Turkey Day,” even though surrounded by a culture that rarely prays. Please remember to keep the overt act of thanking God in prayer as a central part of your Thanksgiving holiday.

Netflix recently released season two of National Geographic’s sci-fi/documentary hybrid Mars. The first season was uneven but enjoyable, and the budget has been pumped up for the second go-around. The story moves at a brisk pace, starting the new season five years after the first season (spoiler alert: the Mars colony becomes sustainable) and even more years have elapsed by the time the season finale wraps up. Alas, the show is rumored to have been canceled by Nat Geo but the way the second season ended, it makes for a fairly satisfying series finale if this is indeed the case.

Two things characterize this show, particularly in the documentary footage and interviews spliced in between the fictional adventures of the Martian explorers: an unflappable belief that a human colony on Mars is an inevitability, and an equally unflappable optimism in humanity’s ability to make this dream come true. The over-eagerness is sometimes eye-roll worthy and the experts being interviewed talk about this endeavor as if it’s happening right now. The groundwork is certainly being laid out thanks in large part to mega-billionaires like Elon Musk bankrolling a number of spacefaring projects (and he makes frequent appearances in the show). My thoughts on self-sustaining space exploration are easy to ascertain from my articles on this website (short version: it’s never going to happen) and you can click here to check out my thoughts about the first season of Mars.

In my previous article, I pondered what part religion, and specifically Christianity, would play in space travel and colonization. It’s obvious that no matter where we go in the universe, God is omnipresent and omnipotent, and as Jonah figured out a bit too late, there is nowhere we can go where God is not. The question is would we acknowledge Him when we got there? In our society, science is increasingly atheistic and it stands to reason that the gatekeepers to the stars would do their best to keep God out, in essence making themselves gods of what they perceive as uncharted territory.

Image copyright National Geographic

I would like to delve into the flip side of this equation, and my thought process on this issue was sparked by something an expert said in an interview in one of the latter episodes of season two. To paraphrase, she said that colonizing Mars would let us start over, to correct the mistakes we’ve made on Earth, to have a clean slate and do things better this time. Her naivete would be adorable if it weren’t so tragically misguided. There have been numerous instances in history when intrepid explorers struck out to start new colonies and societies, and sometimes the “new” world has surpassed the “ol” (‘Merica!). Yet this greatness is only achieved at great cost in terms of human lives and environmental impacts. Newt Gingrich appeared on the show and he outlined the tension between progress and preservation, with progress always winning in the end.

But wait, one might say, there are no people on Mars to enslave or forests to topple. This perceived emptiness makes it even more enticing for profitable exploitation, a key source of conflict in the second season of Mars. Greed leads people to make costly errors but also propels them to new discoveries. The terrestrial experts agree that there will be countless challenges on Mars but they can be overcome by cooperation and the realization that we are all in this together.

There’s just one problem. No matter where people go in this universe, they bring along an unwanted passenger: their own sin natures. Mankind had a glorious utopia and ruined it; why would we “do things better” if we somehow made it to a ruthless wasteland like Mars? The people eagerly awaiting the opportunity for a fresh start are ignorant of the corruption rooted deep within their hearts, and this corruption naturally bleeds out onto anything sinful humans touch. In fact, Mars itself groans because of man’s sin on an entirely different planet. Our world, despite being fallen, still exhibits tremendous beauty, and there is a stark beauty in Martian landscapes as well, but it is at one’s own peril to think humanity could have a second chance and somehow get it right this time.

Of course, without the Holy Spirit regenerating these corrupt hearts, there is no way to convince those eager to go that they would be bringing their innate sin natures with them. Most of these explorers would likely dismiss the concept of sin as archaic and perhaps even flat out false. Let’s hope they don’t get the chance to prove themselves wrong.

You’re about to travel to a place of wonder, excitement, and rediscovery of the best Christian audio drama there is—Adventures in Odyssey.

And just this year, in fact, I finally rediscovered this “childhood” favorite.

I say “childhood” in quotes because, despite the long-running audio series’ official target audience of ages eight through twelve, I continued listening to the series well into my teen years. In fact, I could write a whole article simply exploring how Adventures in Odyssey, likely more than any other story series including The Chronicles of Narnia, first planted in me a desire to train my imagination for God’s glory.

Why did I ever stop listening to Adventures in Odyssey?

How could I have joined the ranks of those dreaded Christian teenagers, those traitors, who once told older-child me that sure, they had once listened to Odyssey sometimes, but somehow just trailed off?

I probably turned into this turncoat for similar reasons as they: I got busy with college, career, and of course, felt I’d grown too old for this series.

After all, Adventures in Odyssey first officially began thirty-two years ago this month.

On November 21, 1987, the ministry Focus on the Family, after taking its earliest forays into radio drama for grown-ups, launched that full series for kids.

From the very beginning, original creators Phil Lollar and Steve Harris set their story in the fictional small town of Odyssey in the United States. Here, folks of all ages—but mostly kids—could explore faith and imagination. Usually they did this in or around an ice-cream parlor and discovery emporium called Whit’s End, a wholesome and kids-can-only-dream shop owned by John Avery “Whit” Whittaker.

Another factor for my Odyssey interruption: technology simply changed. I’d moved beyond the cassette albums and even CD albums that still occupy that dresser drawer in my parents’ top-floor storage room. (Listening to it on Christian FM radio was even more out of the question.)

How then did I find my way back to Odyssey?

This is the part where I might sound like a shill. But I’m not. I’m just a passionate fan, for my very first fandom.

In short: I discovered the Adventures in Odyssey Club, and subscribed ($9.99 a month, and I use this way more than I use Netflix). I’ve been rediscovering that everything truly great about Odyssey is, more or less, just as it was when I was younger—but often even better.

Here are a few examples.

1. Mr. Whittaker lives on, even guided by his third voice actor.

John Avery Whittaker (as seen at the Adventures in Odyssey Wiki page)

Like the Doctor, Mr. Whittaker has “regenerated” when previous actors are no longer available to continue the part. (Whit is no Time Lord, unless you want to assemble some intricate fan theory; in which case, please invite me to join the fun.) In this case, Hal Smith began the role, Paul Herlinger continued it, and now Andre Stojka occupies that Victorian-style counter to serve the ice cream and biblical wisdom.

Each actor has brought out existing dimensions of our hero. Smith brought an “old Hollywood” voice actor style with heft and gravitas. Herlinger brought gentle, spiritual wisdom and often greater seriousness. Stojka brings joyous laughter and whimsy, even during serious situations.

Like Doctor Who fans, I’ve now twice insisted to myself that I won’t get used to this new regeneration of Whit. But I’ve soon warmed to the new chap. It helps that no matter the actor, the character is the same. Whit is the moral and imaginative anchor of Odyssey: great with kids, mysterious with his past, careful and biblical with his worldview yet equally eager to explore our God-given imaginations with kids and grown-ups alike.

Over thirty years, Whit has managed to be, all at once:

• a Bible teacher
• mechanical engineer
• archaeologist
• missionary
• fiction author
• publishing company founder and board member
• former United States military war hero
• and U.S. intelligence agent
• ceaseless community volunteer
• worldview apologist
• software programmer
• small business operator,
• and historian

as well as the ultimate pioneer in the field of virtual reality(?) biblical/historical/alternate universe full-immersive simulation, thanks to his development of the (surprisingly never-commercialized) Imagination Station technology.

In other words, Whit is the One-Punch Man of wise Christian elder statesmen. He seems to easily pwn C. S. Lewis, G. K. Chesterton, David Livingstone, the best Sunday school instructor at your parents’ church, your Greatest Generation uncle who served his country and stayed faithful to one woman and raised several children who (mostly) continue in the faith, and most of the twelve-plus Doctors Who, all rolled into one person.

But Whit is by no means perfect. His gently explored flaws, plus the wholesome yet realistic ethos of Odyssey as a whole, have lived in my imagination even during the ten-plus years I was no longer listening to Odyssey.

John Avery Whittaker is a complex man. But if there’s one thing that’s always been self-evident about him it’s his commitment to the upside-down ways of the kingdom of Heaven that defy the world’s ways—to the kingdom work of sacrificial service not political power.#JesusJuke pic.twitter.com/EMDiz00sn2

— Focus on the Family (@FocusFamily) May 8, 2019

And just like Whit, other heroes have matured in their own practice of biblical faith, such as Connie Kendall and Eugene Meltsner as well as newer heroes like Jason Whittaker and Wooton Bassett. Which leads to …

2. Odyssey presents the best of overt-level ‘Christian fiction.’

In this series, Odyssey’s residents consider God’s design for the family, including men and women, versus the “Let’s Get Together” festival that suggests other views. (This standout story arc deserves its own future review.)

In-universe and on our side of the “radio,” Whit doesn’t show partiality to his friends and the kids in Odyssey. He talks to kids with sensitivity, yet respects their rights and God-given abilities to consider in-depth matters. Such wondrous balance carries over into one of the show’s best features: occasional adventures that send our heroes, usually one or more children of Odyssey, directly into biblical narratives.¹

For example, one two-part story dared to introduce its complex theme when two kids, siblings Olivia and Matthew Parker, enter Whit’s End disputing the merits of heroes. In short order, Mr. Whittaker has whipped up a biblical adventure in the Imagination Station. He sends the kids back in virtual(?)/imaginary(?) time to the era of King David, when the kingdom of Israel is in decay and God’s chosen ruler is suffering the consequences of his sin.

Yes, the story mentions Bathsheba specifically and yet sensitively, given its audience. But more so, the estranged Prince Absalom even cites the Tamar incident. He outright tells Olivia (paraphrased), “The details are not something children should hear.”

That’s perfect. At once this creative approach respects the show’s target audience of children ages eight through twelve, and shows sensitivity to parental concerns. But the story also does not sugarcoat the story. In fact, the two-part story’s entire theme is that even biblical heroes can act in terribly sketchy ways, and that God uses them anyway—but the only perfect hero we can worship is Jesus.

Back in contemporary life, Odyssey continues to pleasantly shock me with its occasional forays into stories that are basically for grown-ups. My imaginative world was quietly shattered one afternoon when the story introduced a three-part arc in which the older mother of a main character (a heroine known to Odyssey fans from the start) died suddenly. This begins an hour-plus, few-holds-barred exploration of grief and even the practical decisions of planning funerals, closing out a house, and dealing with the drama of an estranged father and suddenly revealed half-sibling. And all along, our heroine questions why God would let this happen, wonders about the biblical response to suffering, and gradually, painfully, begins to cope.

Adventures are never easy in Odyssey, and neither are the answers our heroes explore. But explore they do, not just the biblical themes and moral ideas, but through the wonders of people who live, work, quarrel, reconcile, and grow.

3. Odyssey is still superb and smart drama about people fans come to love.

Each Adventures in Odyssey story ends with the series’ perennial announcer, Chris (Anthony), drawing out the story’s moral.

At this point, some snarky Christians might roll their eyes. They’d say, Well, of course the story would do that, because that’s what Bad Christian Fiction always does, is wrap up everything with a nice tidy moral.

Of course, they’re wrong in concluding, simplistically, their own cheap moral that moral-of-the-story conclusions are always wrong. Especially when Odyssey stories frequently conclude not with a “tidy” or “clean” moral but with a challenge. Chris says:

• What did you think about this problem?
• Here’s something I noticed about Jason’s decision here.
• Christians have a lot of views about healing, and it’s complicated. One thing we do know …

And another thing we know is this: Adventures in Odyssey, despite its emphasis on moral themes, is first about its people. It’s centered on the fun, human, flawed yet growing residents of the town of Odyssey. No one is “perfect.” Not Whit. Not the Christian kids (who act very much like kids and get into lots of trouble). But nevertheless, this is a place I still wish were real—where even a grown-up, who first learned from Whit the very concept of enjoying our imaginations for God’s glory, can be a kid again and walk through that bell-equipped door at Whit’s End.

So, this Thanksgiving, I thank my God for all the creators of Adventures in Odyssey.

I’ve said for many years that Thanksgiving Day, which the US will celebrate this Thursday, is my favorite holiday. There are just so many things that are right about the day.

For example it’s a celebration of those early thanksgivings our forefathers held because they lived to bring in a new harvest. I mean, life was not something they took for granted. So they wanted to express their gratitude for life and food.

What’s more they invited native Americans to join them, not as guests but as contributors and participants. They recognized the role their new friends played in making it possible for them to have success in their endeavors.

And of course they were thankful to God because they recognized that without Him, they would not have survived the ocean crossing or had the encounters with people who would help them or received the rain and the sunshine they needed to grow their crops.

My first observation about thanksgiving in general is that it is a responsive action. People give thanks because they have first been given something or have benefited from some condition or in some other way have experienced favor or provision. In other words, we don’t start out being thankful. We become thankful as we realize what we have received.

Thanksgiving, then, requires a level of humility. If we think we have earned all we have, if we aren’t acknowledging the fact that we received from another’s hand, we won’t be in a mindset to give thanks.

In that regard, Thanksgiving also requires a measure of reality. We need to see the truth about our circumstances. We need to have clarity of vision so that we realize both what we have received and what we would be like if we hadn’t received.

True thanksgiving, having been properly caused, seems to erupt from within. As someone on another site noted, thanksgiving can’t be mandated. No one can be thankful by order of the President, even if that President was Abraham Lincoln. Rather, thankfulness flows from a heart of love and relief and appreciation, not only for the thing received, but for the person who made provision.

Third, thanksgiving is expressed. Real thanksgiving has legs. It moves from being an emotion to being a demonstration, through words or actions. People giving thanks aren’t silent and they often aren’t still. Thankful people give smiles and hugs; they pack bags and fly hundreds of miles across country; they send cards and presents; they sing songs; they give at church; they get up a half hour early to pray. The cook dinners and bake pies. In short, thanksgiving is not passive.

I can’t help but think of the story Jesus told Simon, the Pharisee who hosted him for a meal.

“A moneylender had two debtors: one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they were unable to repay, he graciously forgave them both. So which of them will love him more?” (Luke 7:41-42).

Jesus didn’t say, which will be more thankful? He said, which will love him more? Thanksgiving isn’t passive. It turns into love and service and shameless adoration. At least, real thankfulness does—the kind that recognizes the great gifts which have been bestowed and then receives them in humility.

In the end, I guess that explains why we so often take time on Thanksgiving Day, and the weeks leading up to the celebration, to think about the things we’ve been given. An awareness of what we have that we did not earn puts us in a place where we can experience thankfulness and then respond.

One more thing: it’s important to give thanks for the things God has revealed about Himself: He is infinite in love, His mercy extends to the heavens, He is abundantly trustworthy to the point that He will never fail us or forsake us, He is righteous in all His works, His goodness is untainted with even a shadow of wrong doing.

And that’s the tip of the iceberg! So if you had to narrow your thanks down to one thing, and you couldn’t count family, what would that one thing be—physical, spiritual, you name it.

This article is a reprint of one posted on A Christian Worldview Of Fiction some years ago.

You might also be interested in reading other Spec Faith articles, such as this one, about Thanksgiving Day.

Featured Photo by Anna Tukhfatullina Food Photographer/Stylist from Pexels

I’ve been working off and on with the story that is now the Shard of Elan series for fifteen years, and it wasn’t until I sat down to write this post that I realized Shard & Shield is misnamed.

In the novel, a natural artifact is needed to power a shielding spell to protect a land ravaged by magical raids. This arcane shield blocks an interdimensional magical race from entering the human world. The shield is key to the humans’ safety. (This is a problem when it’s then broken, but that’s how stories go.)

But this titular shield is far from the only shield in the story. I realized that most of the character interaction (and hence plot) hinges on the many, many shields they have each erected.

Shields are for protection, and that’s generally a good thing. When inhuman magical monsters attack to take the food you need to survive, defending yourself is the right action.

Sometimes shields are a result of trauma. Someone who has experienced abuse or betrayal will be cautious about exposing himself for further abuse. This is a natural defense, but it can also make emotional healing more difficult.

But sometimes we protect what we don’t need to protect, or what shouldn’t be protected, such as social status or a more flattering view of oneself. It can be hard to tell at a glance such a shield’s true purpose or effect—is a barrier to the immoral a protection for the vulnerable moral, or a refusal of redemption?—or even hard to identify shields so common and so assumed that they become invisible, given the same immutable rule as gravity, and thus often even more impenetrable than a visible wall.

Barriers are the opposite of bonds, and in a fractured society with many invisible shields, there are as many fissures to exploit. Someone who cannot work with a group finds it easier to work against that group. Someone who is excluded is an easy target for abuse or exploitation. It becomes more difficult to see the motivations, needs, and fears of others—or to obscure them in the name of defending one’s own needs or wants.

In this way, shields become offensive weapons. They’re like the AT Fields of Evangelion, which are considered purely defensive until they are used to take down satellites and tanks.

Activating a defensive shield inherently blurs one’s perception, here illustrated by Eva-01. (Evangelion)

(Evangelion spoiler: the AT stands for “absolute terror” and is literally a manifestation of the distrust and fear of connection which separates souls. AT Fields are then used for destruction in the name of protecting humanity. Nearly twenty-five years later, it’s still possibly one of the most concise illustrations of today’s politics.)

It’s been said there aren’t traditional villains in Shard & Shield, despite it being an epic fantasy. The war is terrible, but the reader is sympathetic to both sides. People do terrible things, but they are often motivated by what seems to them good reason. I would say there are definitely villains! but they are not necessarily characters. The evils in the story are not people, but the concepts people choose and then wield against one another, creating conflict which spreads and generates greater conflict. Even the most-hated character is acting in self-defense, with awful effects on those around him.

I feel this is a more realistic depiction of conflict. Not that evil doesn’t exist; it certainly does, and we can observe that. But as Good Omens (Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett) succinctly and snarkily puts it:

“…most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.”

Evil doesn’t have to work as hard when we already prefer to fracture ourselves with distrust or resource-guarding, making fear-aggression and neighbor-exclusion our default behaviors.

And when a situation truly is evil, our exclusionary barriers and defenses may actually make it easier for that evil to gain a foothold. As playwright Steven Dietz noted in the classic tale of an incarnate evil, Dracula:

Most of the characters in Bram Stoker’s Dracula spend the better part of the book trying desperately—with the absolute best of intentions—to keep secrets from one another. Their reasons have to do with safety, honor, respectability, and science. But every secret buys the vampire more time. Every evasion increases the impossibility of anyone assembling the totality of the facts, the cumulative force of the information. Secrecy breeds invasion. Darkness begets darkness.

In Shard & Shield, every advancement, every achievement happens when a character is bold enough to break through an established barrier, to push past a social or personal hurdle to do something that should not, by traditional wisdom, have been done. Of course, pushing past barriers and inhibitions can also trigger awful events, because sometimes those barriers and inhibitions are shields to protect from real consequences. Discernment is important. But without the willingness to try, and to take risks in opening to others, nothing good would happen, either.

Whew—even as an author I’d never thought of my story this way, much less written it all out like this, and I hope it does not sound ridiculously pretentious now! But I believe fantasy allows us to explore reality more realistically, if you will, by letting us view real issues from a different and safely distant angle. Thinking about the shields we all carry, and which are necessary and which are harmful, might help us in real life, both when we are called to answer the question of, “Who is my neighbor?” or when we are tempted to shield against help or friendship or other good things in the name of defense.

Shard & Shield is available now. Lorehaven magazine says:

“Laura VanArendonk Baugh’s Shard & Shield pursues classic fantasy visions of magic, alien creatures, and troublesome royalty. Its alien Ryuven are well-crafted, and similar enough to humans for empathy and dissimilar enough to be interesting. . . . Shard & Shield will intrigue readers with its world-building and complex relationships.”

Read the complete review in Lorehaven magazine’s fall 2019 issue.

I wanted to explain spiritual warfare in this second part of What’s the Deal with the Devil series. But the topic is simply too big for one post. Instead, we’ll break it into parts. This first will look at what Satan wants, or in more military terms, what are the objectives he wishes attain in the spiritual war with God? Then afterwards we’ll look at how the Devil tries to attain those goals, which will open the door to discussing how believers in Christ in general and Christian artists more specifically should counter what Satan is trying to achieve.

The Approach

“Epistle Bias”: The first thing is to state up front I have a bias in favor of the Epistles. What I mean by that is while Bible books that contain historical events like the Gospels and Acts are interesting to Christian readers and reveal what is possible, we cannot be certain that the specific events they record are normal and still happen the same way today. Certain things we definitely know are not going to happen today like they happened as recorded in the Bible–Jesus is no longer in Galilee and no longer walks on water there. But the Epistles, in which apostles wrote to churches and issued out specific commands and guidance, these are like the owner’s manual for believers. They are the directions we have to work from, the specific instructions God gave out for Christians to follow. Of course, sometimes historical books state general principles instead of relating specific events, in which case their references are equal to the Epistles. But in general I will only reference parts of the Bible outside the Epistles when they relate things that the letters of apostles to Christian churches say as well.
(Note not all Christians would agree with me the Epistles are more important–that’s why I’m telling you up front they are from my perspective.)

Assumption Based on What Satan Does: The assumption is those things Satan is attributed to doing are those things what he wants to do. Warnings about Satan and commandments concerning the Devil are geared towards stuff the Devil is actually trying to accomplish. I suppose hypothetically Satan could be wanting to do other things, but if we are not told about other actions or warned about them in the letters to Christian churches (a.k.a. the Epistles) we can safely assume any other motivations are unimportant to us.

The Results

What the Epistles Don’t Contain: It’s important to mention what the Epistles don’t say because there are Christians who strongly advocate a view of spiritual warfare for which there are no clear instructions in the Bible.  Which I would say should alter our view of such practices. To start out:

There are no direct commands or instructions in the Epistles in how to deal with demonic possession, i.e. specific instructions on how to get a demon out of someone. This is true even though the Gospels and Epistles have many examples of Jesus or the apostles confronting someone who was demon-possessed. Presumably, from parts of the Bible other than the letters to churches, it’s still possible for a person to “have an unclean spirit.” But apparently casting out demons isn’t a normal or major aspect of the Christian life for most believers because otherwise the Epistles would give guidance on how to do it–and it’s true the Epistles never say how, even though they talk multiple times about spiritual warfare and how to have victory in it.

I can offer a specific suggestion as to why this is so–though I will in part make reference to a historical event in the Gospels to do so. Matthew 17:21 and Mark 9:29 refer to a demon that Jesus’s disciples could not cast out but afterwards he explains to them that whatever method they were using that wouldn’t do the trick, prayer and fasting would work instead. This seems to indicate that prayer and fasting are more powerful than casting out demons–and the Epistles contain plenty of commands to pray (there’s fewer references to fasting, but there are some, e.g. I Cor 7:5). Ergo, there’s no need to tell you how to do the lesser thing if you’ve already been told to do the greater.

However, I can’t say for certain this is the case–if one of the Epistles had plainly said, “You don’t have to worry about casting out demons because prayer and fasting will take care of them”–then I’d be certain. But there is no such clear statement. Still, there are no commands or instructions on how to cast out demons–and that’s a clear enough indicator for me that battling demons directly is not a normal part of spiritual warfare or the Christian life. Because again, God specifically tells us those things we need to know concerning how to have victory in our spiritual lives.

Nor are there any instructions about clearing physical space of demons like rooms or cities or any other physical terrain. Note the Bible doesn’t even contain any clear examples of physical terrain being cleared out of demonic control (Jesus never expelled the demons in, say, Capernaum, but rather the demons in people there and elsewhere on a per person, not per place, basis). There are some people who claim that getting rid of places demons own really was an important mission of the Early Church, but such arguments cannot be made from the Epistles and only from the Gospels or Acts by importing ideas from other sources. Neither Paul nor any other apostle never tells Timothy or anyone else how to clear a room or anyplace else of demonic presence. (And of course, Jesus never says this, either.)

Therefore I think it’s plainly obvious that clearing space of demons, just like casting out demons, isn’t important to the Christian life. Again, I believe things we specifically need to do as believers, God will specifically tell us to do. (Note what I’m saying here is in pretty sharp contrast to what some Christians practice in a certain version of “spiritual warfare”–but what they do is without Scriptural justification.)

Concerning Satan’s motives, I’d say it’s reasonable conclusion based on what the Epistles tell us is that gaining control of human bodies via possession isn’t one of Satan’s major goals.  Though since it can and does happen as seen in Acts and the Gospels, it still seems to be a goal, even though not the main one. And it’s debatable if Satan is interested at all in physical terrain (I think he’s interested in people within terrain and not physical space itself). At the very least these issues are not significant when Satan is dealing with Christians, to whom the Epistles were addressed.

On the opposite side from a preoccupation with casting out or clearing aside demons, the Bible never says is that mocking Satan somehow hurts him or causes his power to evaporate. As in, the only way the Devil has power is if you believe he might have power–but as long as you don’t think he’s got any strength, then you’re good to go. The Epistles never say this–no part of the Bible says this.

While the Bible says Jesus made a mockery of “principalities and powers” (Col 2:15) through his death and resurrection, if the Scripture had meant to say that Satan is totally powerless as a result, then there would be no passage about putting on the armor of God in Ephesians 6:10-18 in order to “stand against the wiles of the Devil.” Instead Ephesians would tell us not to regard the Devil as dangerous. Maybe the phrasing would have been something like: “Put on this mindset, that as Christ made a mockery of Satan at the cross, so you too can mock him and he will flee from you.” But in fact the Scripture (Epistles included), instead of telling us Satan is a pushover and we should have a good laugh at his expense, tells us that our attitude towards Satan ought to be serious and we need to be vigilant (I Peter 5:8).

Vigilant about what? Or, having covered what the Epistles don’t say, what DO they say?

Satan’s Primary Objective is Tempting Believers to Sin or False Doctrine: This is something pretty much everyone knows about Satan. Well, certainly the part about sin is well-known. There’s a reason for that. It’s something the Bible says over and over. But the Epistles also mention Satan attempting to corrupt what people believe:

Concerning sin:

John to all Christian believers: “Whoever makes a practice of sinning is of the devil, for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil.” (I John 3:8) Note in context, “works of the Devil” refers to the sins Satan inspires. Ergo a Christian, in order to join our Master in his grand purpose, should be at war against all kinds of sin in his or her own life.

Paul to the church in Ephesus: “Be angry, and yet do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not give the devil an opportunity.” In other words, continuing anger can give Satan an opportunity to provoke sin, through fighting and contention–getting us hatefully fighting one another is listed here as one of the Devil’s goals. Note this passage plainly says it’s possible to be angry without sinning. Yet anger, if continuing, represents an opportunity for the Devil to stir up sin.

Paul in the second letter to Corinth: “But one whom you forgive anything, I forgive also; for indeed what I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, I did it for your sakes in the presence of Christ, so that no advantage would be taken of us by Satan, for we are not ignorant of his schemes.” In this passage, Satan is referred to as taking advantage of a lack of forgiveness for a Christian who in context, has repented from sin. (For why not forgiving someone is a sin, please see Matthew 18: 34-35.) Note stirring up a lack of forgiveness is listed as a known “scheme” of the Devil, as in, “he’s always trying to get Christians to stop forgiving one another.”

James to all Christians: “But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your heart, do not be arrogant and so lie against the truth. This wisdom is not that which comes down from above, but is earthly, natural, demonic. For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there is disorder and every evil thing.” Here jealousy and selfish ambition are listed, among other things, as “demonic.” Which would indicate Satan wishes to stir up jealousy and selfish ambition among Christians.

Paul in the first letter to the church in Corinth: “Do not deprive one another except with consent for a time, that you may give yourselves to fasting and prayer; and come together again so that Satan does not tempt you because of your lack of self-control.” (I Corinthians 7:5) This verse refers to sexual abstinence within marriage, that it should be limited, that Satan tempts people into sexual immorality if their marital sexual relationship isn’t good. A similar idea is in I Timothy 5:14-15, which recommends younger widows remarry in order that they would not turn aside to “follow Satan,” presumably in context by living lives of sexual immorality. So a continuing goal of Satan would be to get Christians to live in a way that we are habitually controlled by sin, especially sexual sin. 

Note these verses contain an idea that might be rather shocking for some people: Sin causes a Christian to at least temporarily follow Satan. I.e. it is possible for a believer in Christ to support things that help the Devil attain his goals in the spiritual war he’s fighting–we do so every time we sin, in fact, though of course living in sin is a different issue than sinning and repenting from it.

Please note that the Bible does not say that the Devil is the only source of temptation to sin. On the contrary, it plainly says we are led astray by our own desires in James 1:13-14. Clearly the Devil via his agents does stir up sin in people–but does so based on something intrinsically wrong with human beings in the first place. So humans seem perfectly capable of sinning without direct temptation from spiritual evil–but Satan is continually working to bring out that tendency and is served when humans give in to sin.

Concerning false doctrine:

Paul to the Thessalonians: “For this reason, when I could bear it no longer, I sent to learn about your faith, for fear that somehow the tempter had tempted you and our labor would be in vain.” (I Thes 3:5) While this passage is not entirely clear to me–perhaps temptation to sin could be the reference here–when Paul (via the inspiration of the Holy Spirit) writes about “your faith” what he usually means is he wants to know the church is well-established, with sound doctrine (note I Thes 3:2 says Timothy was sent to them “to establish you,” not to deal with any kind of sin).

Paul’s letter to the Ephesians provides another example of what appears to be an attack on doctrinal belief: “above all, taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one.” This is part of the “armor of God” passage in Ephesians six but note that it says faith counters the fiery darts of the “Wicked One.” It’s generally believed these darts would have to doubts to be countered by faith. And doubts about what? It would seem doubts about the truth of the Christian message and faith…and doubting the truth is the mirror image of believing something that’s false. One leads to another. Note how this passage is specifically addressed to Christians–Satan is working to break down the personal faith in God and/or the doctrinal belief of Christian people. Though this example isn’t as clear as I’d like it to be.

A clearer example is Paul’s second letter to Pastor Timothy, which says: “And a servant of the Lord must not quarrel but be gentle to all, able to teach, patient, in humility correcting those who are in opposition, if God perhaps will grant them repentance, so that they may know the truth, and that they may come to their senses and escape the snare of the devil, having been taken captive by him to do his will.” (II Tim 2:24-26) This letter commends the ideal of a Christian leader who can patiently explain truth when correcting people in error, because doing so gives an opportunity to let people escape a “snare of the Devil.” In other words, the Devil somehow promoting false doctrines and people who spread these false teachings have been taken “captive by him to do his will.” (A specific case of false doctrine spreading via Hymenaeus and Philetus is in verses 17-18 above this passage–their false doctrine being that the resurrection had already happened.)

Note it seems–I say “seems” because I’m drawing a conclusion based on the Bible rather than the Bible saying this directly–that a Christian who spreads false doctrine, even if beloved by God, has been taken “captive by him” (that is, Satan) “to do his will.” This is not a reference to demonic possession–but rather that having false ideas and spreading them actually furthers Satan’s purposes. So a Christian ought to care about correct doctrine as a serious student of the word of God and work to promote a true representation of the Christian faith–as opposed to falsehood.

So Satan works to get Christians to stray into false beliefs and sins that make them hypocrites in their beliefs. What else does the Devil do?

Satan Causes Trouble for Christian Ministries in Various Ways Other than Sin and False Doctrine: this aspect of Satan’s objectives are not as well-known as the role of tempter, but various individual actions in the Epistles show Satan is aware of the work of spreading the Gospel and seeks to stop or hinder it.

So Satan prevented Paul from visiting the Thessalonian church at a specific time (how exactly is unknown), I Thessalonians 2:18. Satan provided a “thorn in the flesh,” that afflicted Paul, presumably some kind of physical ailment, II Corinthians 12:7 (note Paul’s approach in dealing with this “thorn” was to pray about it (verses 8-9).

In the Gospels as a statement of fact (not a historical event) the Devil is said for some people to “take the word of God out of their hearts” (Luke 8:12). Whether that means to distract them from listening to God’s word or to cause them to forget it, I’m not sure–but the statement taken at face value is that when the word of God is going out to a group, the Devil and his angels are seeking to turn at least some of the hearers away from the message before it has a chance to have any effect.

Similarly in the Gospels and also in the Epistles the Bible states that Satan seeks to insert false believers and false teachers into Christian congregations. See Matthew 13:39, II Corinthians 11:13-14, and I John 2:18-19.

The Devil is said to have the “power of death” in Hebrews 2:14–meaning Satan can either motivate people to kill other people or kill them directly or both. This is something the same Scripture says Jesus combated through his own death–presumably by providing the Christian believer eternal life and a bodily resurrection. But nothing in the Bible indicates Satan has somehow lost the “power of death.” While it seems Satan would rather corrupt Christian morals or beliefs, motivating people to kill believers is a fallback position for the Devil, one we see active in the world today, say in Syria or North Korea.

Note a passage I hold to be very important about the work of Satan in the world, I Peter 5:8, doesn’t say exactly how Satan acts like a roaring lion. I think in the context of the Scriptures overall, it most likely means Satan wants to drag Christians into shameful sins and false doctrines. But there’s some reason to think this may also refer to physical suffering Christians can face via persecution (see verses 9 and 10).

In Addition, Satan Leads this World in Many Ways, Especially through Deceit–and Desires to Continue to Do So

Ephesians 2:2: “which you once walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit who now works in the sons of disobedience”

Ephesians 6:12: “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.”

2 Thessalonians 2:9: “The coming of the lawless one is according to the working of Satan, with all power, signs, and lying wonders”

See also I Corinthians 10:20 (about Pagan religion), and Revelation 12:9, 18:23, 19:20 (Satan deceiving the world) and a number of other passages.

Summary

While I have more to say about the topic of Satan’s goals for next time, we can see that Satan’s primary objectives are to influence human beings, especially Christians, to believe or act in a way that opposes God’s will. As part of this plan, Satan has some outright false teachers and false Christians scattered among those who actually believe.

Satan is not primarily interested in demonic possession or haunting real estate, even though he at times does the first and perhaps does the second as well. Nor is the Devil revealed to be vulnerable to laughter or belittling.

Secondarily, Satan’s objectives are such that those who follow God may find themselves afflicted or even killed by agents marching to the beat of his drum. (This is not a common experience in the USA, but it has occurred throughout Christian history and is happening right now in certain other countries.)

In the end, Satan has a tremendous degree of control over this world and doesn’t want that to change by people coming to faith in God through Jesus Christ and following the will of God. But, again, his primary means of countering the work of God is through influence–through affecting the beliefs and actions of human beings. Not through direct application of demonic power.

Satan in Council. Drawing to accompany Paradise Lost by Gustave Dore.

I pray this understanding of what the Devil wants can inspire some world-building ideas for speculative fiction stories.

But portraying Satan’s motivations has already happened in Christian speculative literature, from Dante’s Inferno to Milton’s Paradise Lost to Frank Perretti’s This Present Darkness. Which of these works do you find compelling when talking about what motivates Satan? How do the objectives of Satan as revealed in the Epistles relate to portrayals of Satan in literature? Any other thoughts?

Martin Scorsese recently kicked up one of those momentary controversies we are forever passing through. He said that Marvel movies are not cinema but truly more like theme parks; from this we may conclude that he doesn’t think they’re art, either. Scorsese expanded on his thoughts in the editorial pages of The New York Times, from which we may further conclude that there are advantages to being him. The essay is worth the read, more an indictment of the film industry generally than of Marvel specifically. Still, there’s indictment enough of Marvel.

I have some sympathy for Scorsese’s arguments. I also have sympathy for Marvel, though it runs against my instincts. A multi-billion dollar franchise is big enough to take care of itself, and certainly Marvel could find far better defenders than me. I have no native affinity for superheroes or comic books, and it took years for me to melt toward Marvel. Even now, I haven’t watched a notable percentage of the movies because I do not expect to see either Loki or Captain America. I do not exactly come to praise Marvel, but neither do I come to bury it.

Scorsese’s criticisms of Marvel have the dollar-short quality of sensing the truth without ever hitting the mark. “Nothing,” he says of the movies, “is at risk.” But that isn’t true. A great deal is at risk in Marvel movies, and some things are irrevocably lost. Consider the sad case of Thor, who once had everything and now has nothing at all – unless you count the Guardians, which I personally would not. There is risk in the Marvel franchise, and even consequences. What the risk and consequence sometimes lack – what the franchise as a whole has a devitalizing tendency to lack – is weight.

Marvel always goes after spectacle. Spectacle is an admirable thing, though if Marvel’s flavor of spectacle is not to your taste the movies will likely leave you cold, and possibly thinking they are more like theme parks than cinema. But spectacle is not enough. It is the realization of ideas in story, and of humanity in characters, that gives weight to art and meaning to spectacle. Marvel’s great weakness is its propensity to short-change ideas for spectacle and sometimes even humanity for humor.

The whole point is perfectly illustrated by Thor: Ragnarok, which completely destroyed Asgard (risk! consequence!) but hastened to assure us that it did not matter and joked while Asgard burned. It told the Twilight of the Gods and didn’t even want to be moving. Still, the weakness of the franchise is not the failure of every movie. The original Thor had weight and even psychological drama, making a genuine tragedy of its villain’s fall from grace. Endgame gave its characters space to breathe and think and feel – and us along with them. It is one of the things that gave the film its satisfaction.

To judge by his New York Times op-ed, Scorsese is fond of the word cinema. I fancy that says something about where he’s coming from, because cinema is not, generally speaking, a word that people use. I do not entirely know what Scorsese means by it, but doubtless Marvel doesn’t meet the definition. Marvel is not cinema in the tradition of Jean-Luc Godard and Ingmar Bergman, but they are movies in a broader and more popular tradition. You can find fault with them; on occasion, you probably should. But within all their limitations, and despite all their flaws, the Marvel movies are a tour de force of popular storytelling.