How many times did I see my mom shake her head as she clucked her tongue at whatever TV program we kids were watching. The thing was, my dad often was watching too, which put Mom on an island by herself, clucking and shaking.

Whenever she voiced her disapproval, often about the level of violence, our argument was something like, But Mooomm, it’s just pretend. Those guys aren’t really dying. Of course, in love scenes, the couple really was kissing, so the argument was more along the line of, But they’re only kissing!

The point is, I didn’t think about what I was watching much, unless Mom was in the room, and then I was decidedly uncomfortable in the scenes I knew would bother her.

As a young adult, after seeing some raunchy movies, I came to a place where I realized I needed to set my own parameters for my entertainment. Teaching in a Christian school caused me to examine my standards yet again. What kind of an example was I to be to my students?

Eventually I asked what seemed like a logical question: is entertainment even necessary? Are we wasting our time listening to idol contestants, watching the Final Four, reading the comics page of the newspaper, or tuning in to see the latest episode of V?

That’s a tough question. Some entertainment seems to fall into the category of “art,” so it would be hard to argue against it. I remember seeing Macbeth when I was young, and an operetta version of Hansel and Gretel. But if those stories fall in the realm of acceptable entertainment, what about the Donald Duck comic books I loved so much? Or the Nancy Drew novels I started reading?

Is the issue entertainment in general or meaningful entertainment? In other words, should entertainment have something about it that justifies the time it requires? Or is it enough that we can lose ourselves for a few hours? Is it enough that we are amused or thrilled or happy?

I think about Jesus, working so hard to meet the needs of the crowds that flocked to Him that there were days He didn’t even have time to eat. I have a hard time imagining Him sitting down to watch Survivor or going to a Dodgers game. But maybe that’s because those weren’t the forms of entertainment in the first century.

J. R. R. Tolkien famously defended “escapist” literature, particularly “fairy stories,” saying that it allowed escape from the “horror” of the technological, to that which is more permanent and beautiful:

 

I have claimed that Escape is one of the main functions of fairy-stories, and since I do not disapprove of them, it is plain that I do not accept the tone of scorn or pity with which ‘Escape’ is now so often used. Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls?
– from “On Fairy Stories”

The implication is that the escape to something more true, validated the escape. But what about escape that isn’t to something true? What about escape that is mindless, designed only to give a momentary jolt — a thrill or a sense of happiness? Is that escape still profitable?

I suspect many in our western culture, including many Christians, will eagerly answer that of course it is. But I can’t help wondering if that isn’t the world talking, not God. I’d like to look at what the Bible says about entertainment next time.

What are your thoughts and insights on the subject?

Author Ted Kluck on spoofing Left Behind, evangelical kitsch, Christ-figures, growth as writers, Christian publishing and how most “young restless Reformed” readers aren’t (yet?) into fiction.

E. Stephen Burnett: Today brings us Ted Kluck, author in multiple genres: sports and sports biography, doctrine and theology, cultural-Christianity parody, and now also end-times-thriller parody. With Kevin DeYoung, his pastor, he coauthored the two books that first brought him to my attention (more on that below): Why We’re Not Emergent and Why We Love the Church.

I have to ask first about these: what led to these books, especially for a sportswriter who (I’m guessing) could have thought, Can I write about this?

Ted Kluck: Back five or six years ago when the emergent church™ was having its fifteen minutes of fame, I think people in our church assumed I was a lot cooler than I actually was/am, and started giving me Rob Bell, Don Miller and Brian McLaren books to read. Those books, in addition to being semi-interesting to read at times (Miller), were full of theological red-flags that were apparent even to me, a non-seminaried sports guy. So I approached Kevin, who is now a bona-fide A-List Reformed™ Superstar, and we launched the alternating-chapters idea for Why We’re Not Emergent. The rest, as they say, is about two-years worth of publishing history.

ESB: I mentioned it was Why We’re Not Emergent that brought your and DeYoung’s names to my attention. It’s a bit cliché by now — it was a “Young, Restless, Reformed” (YRR)-style Conference, in 2008, which also happened to offer all kinds of Deep-Doctrine Solid Books. So now you’re more well-known for those, yet you’ve expanded your repertoire with your own publisher, Gut Check Press, and more, including a book on adoptive fatherhood, and The Reason for Sports: A Christian Fanifesto. How’s that working out?

Ted: Actually, we have that YRR-style conference to thank for whatever sales those books accomplished. Nothing sells books like Reformed bloggers. As to how it’s working out…(awkward chuckle)…it’s up and down. The books that didn’t get (for whatever reason) the wholesale Reformed Seal of Approval definitely haven’t sold as well. The take-home here is that I need to get either D.A. Carson or J.I. Packer to write the forewords for each of my books, regardless of subject matter. Gut Check Press has been the silver lining in a year or so of writing that has been kind of dark-cloudish. Gut Check has been nothing but pure fun and we’ve made…wait for it…HUNDREDS of dollars.

ESB: Are the YRR sorts of Christians following your efforts into other genres? (Very possibly a leading question here. …) If not, what books do the Gospel-driven, Puritan-quoting, affectionate-parody-worthy Christians like best to read?

 

Ted: Let me pause here to appreciate your questions. Okay. The short answer is no, they haven’t followed my efforts into other genres. However, that’s not to paint YRRers with a narrow brush in terms of their reading tendencies, which tend toward the following:

1.) Each other.

2.) John Piper.

3.) People who are old and dead.

4.) C.S. Lewis (but only in the sense that they love Lewis because he is old and dead and also because it gives them a chance to talk about the theological reservations they have vis-à-vis Lewis…we YRRers LOVE having theological reservations about things/people).

5.) John Piper.

ESB: Tell us about Beauty and the Mark of the Beast. It’s “a dispensational thriller,” “written by committee,” first online, but later to be published by Gut Check Press. Sure, it’s a bit late after the fad, the site says in the FAQ — but it’s not the first time Christians were late to imitate something years after its peak. In fact, if there’s anything evangelical Christians are original with, it’s end-times thrillers — even if they are “tacky, embarrassing, and mockable.” Want to expand your thoughts on the genre and its hangers-on?

Ted: Let me answer this question by telling a quick story. When I first visited the offices of the publisher responsible for Why We’re Not Emergent, Why We Love the Church, The Reason for Sports, and Hello, I Love You, I was housed in a building called “Jerry B. Jenkins Hall” which was also home to a giant, muralish portrait of Jerry B. Jenkins who as you’ll recall was one half of the juggernaut that produced all 186 volumes of the Left Behind series. It was at that moment that the seed was planted for this project, which I’m sure will be every bit as successful, financially. Gut Check, as a company, realizes that there’s a good buck in the end times racket.

ESB: Do you have or have you read the whole Left Behind series? (I do, and I may be the only YRR bloke who not only possesses all the books, mostly first-prints, but still feels some fondness for them).

Ted: I was introduced to these books in 1999 while I was living in Lithuania and waiting for the world to end in 2000, so they were timely both in the sense that they were in English, which was a huge plus in Lithuania, and they were about the end of the world. I think I read the first two or three of them and learned that if you have the right kind of tricked-out Jeep, you too can survive the rapture. It was a really formative time for me. And man, I hate to say it but I think you just lost your YRR card with that admission…expect some “confrontations in love” real soon.

ESB: (If Mark Driscoll can dress “grunge” and enjoy beer, I can enjoy my Left Behind memories because this is Missional.) If you follow modern evangelical Christian fiction offerings, what’s your take on them? I’m thinking here of two areas in particular: your views on how Christian novels are doing in showing Christ’s truth and the Gospel in fiction, and how authors are doing in terms of creativity/originality/non-tackiness.

Ted: I actually have no idea here. I don’t really follow modern evangelical Christian fiction. However (endorsement alert), Gut Check published a novel called 42 Months Dry: A Tale of Gods and Gunplay by a promising young novelist named Zachary Bartels, that will blow your mind all over your face. It’s a modern day retelling of Elijah and the prophets of Baal, and reading it is like watching the best kind of action movie.

ESB: What’s your familiarity level with “speculative” fiction — Christ-exalting fantasy, sci-fi, etc.?

Ted: I actually have more familiarity with crochet and cooking (thanks to my wife, Kristin) than I have with this genre.

ESB: What about other “YRR” readers or writers you may know — do they enjoy Christian fiction, criticize what’s there, and/or hope to do better? With all the Gospel-driven emphasis on taking back art, and writing more-Biblical and more-creative music (and not simply ripping off what the world does and instead making it all clean, saying “Jesus,” etc.), I’m curious whether YRR types are also considering fiction.

Ted: I don’t think YRRers have “reclaimed” (things we love: reclaiming things like art, fiction, the city, adoption, sex, etc.) fiction as of yet. And actually I don’t see them/us doing so. We’ve (YRRers) have done a better job with rap music so far (see: Lecrae, Trip Lee, The Voice), than we have with fiction, which is either encouraging or discouraging depending on how you look at it.

ESB: Here’s also one of the main reasons I had hoped to host you here: a single footnote in Why We Love the Church. It’s on page 70: “I’m typing this at roughly the same time as the latest Batman movie, The Dark Knight, hits theaters. Just as in the Star Wars saga, expect Christian reviewers to find spiritual significance in the film so as to sort of allow themselves to like it with a clean conscience (see also: U2, and books like The Gospel According to Tony Soprano) when they should probably just go ahead and like it anyway.”

(I also saw The Dark Knight’s substitution/scapegoat motif, but didn’t feel I needed to find it to enjoy the film.) And I think I know what you mean there; but of course I’d rather hear more thoughts from you on that. (Of course, that may be a whole separate column someday — a prospect we’d not oppose).

Ted: Yeah, I think I was just explaining that it would have been okay for Christians to like The Dark Knight even without finding the substitution motif or whatever. I really never “got” our (Christians) wholesale embracing of Lord of the Rings or The Matrix either. Personally, I find a lot of theological/socio-political imagery in Sly Stallone’s seminal work, Rocky IV, in which he singlehandedly ends the Cold War. So much so (the imagery) that Zach Bartels and I co-wrote an academic white paper about it over at the Gut Check Press website. Spoiler alert: Apollo Creed = Christ Figure.

ESB: What might be some ways Christian fiction readers and writers, especially in “speculative” genres, can seek God’s truth and the Biblical Gospel, but also find ways to more creatively present these truths and glorify Him in stories, and not be all kitschy and embarrassing?

Ted: Honestly I think the best thing Christian writers can do for fiction (or nonfiction) is to grow in personal holiness and sanctification, pray for our writing to glorify God, be in God’s word consistently, and just plain old get better at the craft. When we’re reading great novelists, we’ll be much less likely to get all kitschy and embarrassing in our own work, unless, of course, we’re trying to be kitschy and embarrassing (see: Gut Check’s end times thriller).

ESB: Bonus question: I must ask you about the male (and homeschooled) wrestler who turned down a chance to win a state championship, because it would have involved wrestling a girl.

Ted: I actually agree with the kid refusing to wrestle, but it bums me out that they (the state) put the kid in that position in the first place. I can sympathize with him not feeling entirely comfortable with that, for a variety of reasons. For what it’s worth, I’m fine with girls wrestling, but they should have a different division, and have their own state tournament, etc.

ESB: Now I’m out of questions, unless you want to make one up and answer it for yourself. Also, your next book’s or books’ release(s) dates and details?

Ted: Working on a book on discipleship and car restoration (seriously) that I’m really pumped about. Writing it with a guy who kicked cocaine addiction and has been in and out of jail several times. We’re fixing up an old Triumph Spitfire together…that one is called Dallas and the Spitfire and is being published by Bethany House Nonfiction sometime next year. Also doing a book with former Buffalo Bills quarterback Jim Kelly that Faith Words is publishing.

ESB: Thanks much for your time, Ted. Godspeed to you and yours!

Bleep, bleep, bleepity bleeping bleep! Bad Words. Is it okay for a Christian use them?

I don’t mean on purpose and angrily. That would at least fall under the Bible’s reminders not to act like we’re God and get furious when the world doesn’t match our expectations. That’s a different debate.

But what about fictitious cussing — describing, even quoting, Bad Words a character says?

If you read a published Christian novel, you’ll likely not find any Bad Words. Such publishers have decided that while it might be okay to show certain other sins, such as violence or envy or even lust, Bad Words are banned. That’s what this series has been about: discussing all the arguments I could think of, for and against allowing Fictitious Cussing.

Part 1: Cussing is not Christian vs. Christian fiction is lame because of no-swearing rules. (Also: Why not use substitutes? — as in “he swore,” or quoting a made-up swear word.)

Part 2: Why do we need the cussing? vs. Cussing helps show the evil in our world.

Now I’m ready to conclude this: how an author uses language depends on two things — the story genre/rules, and the readership.

For example, a certain author’s new book begins with a trio of church ladies having a prayer meeting. One of them, considering another woman’s tattoo, thinks: if the pastor were here, “he’d make her cover the darned thing.” Unrealistic? I don’t think so. These are members of The Ladies of the Church™ (a very powerful special interest lobby), and it’s unlikely one would swear, even to herself — unless perhaps she were a recent convert, which doesn’t seem to be the case for this character. So here, actual swearing could break the story rules.

But what if the author wanted to show something different about her? What if she actually thought “he’d make her cover the damned thing”? (I hope you don’t mind me saying it here to illustrate.) Compared with the setting, and the character’s apparent Christian or at least “churchian” beliefs, a bad word could startle readers. Why is she behaving that way? Is there something else to this person? I must keep reading to see.

If an author wanted to write that form of story with that kind of character, for a greater redemptive purpose, it’s unlikely any Christian publisher would permit its publication.

And I’m not sure that’s right. It seems to impose a personal conviction about merely quoting what could be a sin — if it’s a sin, even in-story! — on all authors and readers. But what if an author is writing for non-Christian readers? What if he’s writing a novel set in the ghetto, or an alternate-universe dystopia, or a big-city police department’s homicide division?

Against: ‘Love your weaker brothers in Christ’

However, this objection can be made, and mostly I would agree: if one hopes to write a novel for Christian readers, removing “stumbling blocks” such as Bad Words is one way to show love for them. And that’s a Biblical, God-glorifying goal, better than Being Edgy.

But the “stumbling block” objection can be abused. Three groups of people may claim it:

1. Christians who truly have a “stumbling block” issue with Bad Words, who would be tempted to sin by reading or hearing a Bad Word. Authors should take them into account — not just for marketing purposes, but love-in-Christ purposes.
2. Others who only think their objection is an actual stumbling block. Some Biblical teaching about what is truly a stumbling block could only help them.
3. The worst: others, either self-deceived individuals or those with religious control issues, who may pretend to be personally offended. Otherwise they might claim they are personally fine with hearing a Bad Word themselves, so they will instead refer to an imagined Invisible Choir of Innocents who supposedly need their protection.

In reality, some of these other objectors have Bible-reading issues and their own love-in-Christ issues. As author Randy Alcorn points out about a truly Biblical “stumbling block”:

A stumbling block […] is not just anything that causes someone to be offended. […] In many churches, it is older Christians, who think of themselves as more mature, who are offended at the behavior of younger Christians. Almost never are they tempted to do what the younger Christians are doing that offends them (such as listening to rock music), and therefore their offense has nothing to do with the stumbling block of 1 Corinthians 8 or Romans 14.

So for Christians objecting to fictitious cussing, no matter the writer’s professed redemptive purpose, because of “weaker brother” reasons — I’d ask them, in love, some questions to see if they’re not just confused about what a real stumbling block is. As for the Invisible Choir of Innocents: if some of them are truly offended, perhaps they can speak for themselves?

For: ‘Weaker brothers must become stronger’

Here’s one I lean toward almost by instinct: the Gospel has not given us a spirit of fear but of power and love and self-control! If I sin, it’s my own fault, not the fault of a Thing. If you disagree you need to read your Bible more! It’s all clear in there. So don’t be so scared!

Too bad the Apostle Paul didn’t himself follow that logic, and his writing in 1 Corinthians 8 is paramount here. Even while reminding people that “‘an idol has no real existence’” (1 Cor. 8:4) and that there is only one God, Paul says “not all possess this knowledge” (verse 7).

So yes, there is a problem of the weaker brothers not yet being well-educated. But sadly for wannabe brainerds like me, Paul’s solution is not they must get more knowledge about this or you stronger brothers should put the weaker brothers through cultural and spiritual boot camp. Rather he concludes with this: “If food makes my brother stumble, I will never eat meat, lest I make my brother stumble” (1 Cor. 8:13). Then he continues to describe, in a whole chapter, surrendering his legitimate rights out of love for others, so as not to get in the way of them learning the Gospel. (Also, this is a more-nuanced meaning than that suggested by those who use Paul’s “all things to all people” to justify striving to be Hip and Relevant.)

Conclusion: strength through love and truth

My first reaction: I don’t like this. I wish genuinely weaker brothers would just get sanctified as fast as I fancy myself to be now. Well, I’m fine with grittier stories. Bad Words may be needed for some stories or certain characters. Why aren’t you okay with this?

Then I stop to consider. Back when I was a “weaker brother” in this area, what helped me change? It wasn’t throwing myself headlong into Bad Word-infested books, Christian or not — which could have indeed made me stumble. It wasn’t from being lectured (in what could have been a legalistic way!) about my legalism. And it wasn’t from having the bad stuff blown right in my face, even with the best of intentions, to help me get used to it.

Rather, my growth was from slow, gradual exposure to the Gospel and resulting knowledge: hearing or reading a Bad Word need not count as personal sin just because I’d been exposed to it. Why? Because sin comes not from a Thing but from my own heart choice. But I never would have believed this unless I had been reassured by seeing it preached and played out by strong Christians whom I’d already come to trust in other areas.

That is also what Paul does, especially in Romans 14 and 1 Corinthians 8 – 10, in discussing personal-convictions-about-gray-areas issues. Readers just can’t pin him down on one side or the other, because he is firmly in the middle. In one sentence he reminds readers that idols aren’t real; there’s nothing to be afraid of if someone else is still trapped in idolatry. Yet later he’s reminding “stronger brothers” in the faith: surrender your rights, love your brother and do not get in the way of showing the Gospel to them, even as I have been doing.

So if using a Bad Word out loud, or quoting a novel character saying it, will (truly) make my brother stumble, I will never use fictitious swearing, lest I make my brother stumble.

Yet I can’t help but wonder if Paul trusted these things to work themselves out. That may explain why he was firm on one point: real idolatry is evil, and I’m not at all saying it’s no big deal; so avoid it! Perhaps fictitious-swearing advocates should do more to reiterate their love for the Gospel and resulting God-exalting holiness to “stumbling block” Christians, even the posers. We’re on your side. We love the same Jesus as you, and we know some people claiming to be Christians don’t care about truth. And we also hate lies and compromise. Yet may we suggest you reconsider what you believe in this area, sometime — in God’s time?

Today I arrived home, and as planned (thanks to Amazon’s late estimate) I found my box of birthday gifts, half of which were paid for by a gift card. Inside I found four items, of which at least half should be familiar to Speculative Faith readers:

• Nonfiction: Don’t Call It a Comeback, edited by author/pastor Kevin DeYoung. One of the essays within is written by Ted Kluck, whose views on writing and “young restless Reformed” readers will be featured in this Friday’s guest spot.
• Nonfiction: Reflections on the Psalms by C.S. Lewis. After hearing this work of his quoted so often, I wanted finally to read it for myself.
• Fiction: The Resurrection by a certain up-and-coming author named Mike Duran (who has written for Speculative Faith and often stops by for discussions).
• And finally, audible musical majesty by composer Murray Gold: the two-disc (!) soundtrack from Doctor Who Series 5.

A future column may reveal my thoughts on The Resurrection, which I haven’t begun to read yet. Here I’ll instead ask what kinds of music you, as a writer or reader, absolutely love — music that transcends pop-culture stuff (some of which can be good) to point to worlds of exploration and wonder.

Murray Gold’s music is among the best elements of the revived Doctor Who program: all at once complex yet simple, thematic but not predictable, classical and contemporary, hilarious one moment (think Warner Brothers cartoons) and poignant the next.

Many of you may be familiar with the classic Doctor Who electronic theme tune. Gold has so far scored three versions of it.

Such as the following remix of the Series 5 version, which actually was performed live and in concert last year:

Just wow. And this is among my current rotating “playlist” before I delve back into novel work. My current project is fully pre-outlined, but often it takes a boost of energy to get me restarted — and music like this is like caffeine for my mind.

What about you? What artists and music do you enjoy, especially if you’re attempting to induce creative energy?

Last Friday, our guest blogger, author Wayne Thomas Batson, wrote about fantasy as a vehicle for soul searching. His remarks reminded me of what I read from Anne Rice when she announced her conversion (since revoked) to the Catholic faith.

As she states, even in her vampire novels she was exploring the spiritual:

Much could be said, and has been said, about all of my works. I would like to say that the one thing which unites them is the theme of the moral and spiritual quest

Apparently the search continues in the second book of her angel series Of Love And Evil.

Interesting!

I have one friend who refuses to read Tosca Lee‘s Demon: A Memoir because it is too real. After all, demons exist. Instead, this friend prefers to read and write about make-believe monsters — vampires and zombies, selkies, werewolves, and the like.

All those creatures are too horrible for me, at least if they take center stage in the story. I saw an old black and white version of Frankenstein’s Monster when I was a kid, and had nightmares for weeks. It was months before I could go downstairs to our basement level bedrooms without imagining a monster waiting in the dark.

Ever since, I’ve preferred something akin to the mythical creatures who existed in a pretend place and a pretend time — balrogs and orcs, Calormenes and Tash, bisonbecks and blimmets.

The greater distance allows me to examine the war between good and evil, much as Anne Rice’s vampires apparently allowed her to look at the same:

Interview with the Vampire, the novel that brought me to public attention, is about the near despair of an alienated being who searches the world for some hope that his existence can have meaning. His vampire nature is clearly a metaphor for human consciousness or moral awareness. The major theme of the novel is the misery of this character because he cannot find redemption and does not have the strength to end the evil of which he knows himself to be a part.

I have to admit, for years I never considered the possibility that horror had anything to do with an exploration of the spiritual. I looked at stories with vampire protagonists as a glorification of evil.

Anne Rice says it’s not so, at least in her stories:

Evil is never glorified in these books; on the contrary, the continuing battle against evil is the subject of the work. The search for the good is the subject of the work.

The battle against evil is the subject of fantasy, too, but why is horror, or supernatural suspense, as we call it in Christian fiction, so much darker? Why does it induce nightmares in some of us and make others shudder so much we’d just as soon read something else, thank you very much!

I can only postulate answers to that question because I fall into that latter group. Hence, I’m speaking from what I think — which dictates what I decide to read, or rather, not to read — so I’m aware my perception might be completely skewered. Nevertheless, here’s my speculation: could it be the darkness of dark literature comes from the point of view — such as might have occurred had Lord of the Rings been written from Saurman’s perspective or The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe from the standpoint of the witch?

Mind you, I’m not suggesting something like Wicked by Gregory Maguire that apparently told the story of the Wizard of Oz from the perspective of the Wicked Witch of the West. From what I have heard, her evil nature is softened if not explained away by a look at her troubled youth and the roots of her self-loathing.

On second thought, perhaps that one actually is a good illustration, though I suspect less dark than what I had in mind because Oz is so firmly rooted in our cultural imagination as pretend. Interestingly, Publisher’s Weekly called it a “meditation on good and evil, God and free will.”

So I wonder. Am I right that horror or supernatural suspense explores evil and good from a different perspective than fantasy, or is there some other major difference I’m missing?

And in the end, does it give you nightmares? 😕

Soul Searching Through Fantasy
by Wayne Thomas Batson
Life’s hard. I don’t care who you are or what tax bracket you’re in, you are going to get hurt. Scripture tells us that, as Christians, we’re not exempt from this broken, sin-sick world or the pain that comes with it. In fact, we get the comforting news that, as Christians, we might just expect to get more suffering. Yay. Count it all joy, right? I’m trying to; I bet you are too. But it’s not easy.

If you’re reading this, you’re likely a fan of Fantasy Fiction already, so I’m probably preaching to the choir. But I submit that one of the most redeeming values of reading and writing fantasy is that it’s fertile ground for your heart…your soul to go searching. We find ourselves enchanted by quaint Hobbit villages like the Shire where all things green and growing are held in high honor; where friends gather nightly over a pint–and talk; where children can play with no fear. We think, “Ah, if only life could be that simple…and good.” I believe that our souls are hungry and thirsty for heaven. And fantasy can give us a little taste. But only a taste. Christian and non-Christian readers alike, know that heaven is far greater than any fantasy author’s imagination could ever conjure. And it’s ours for the asking. Jesus said so. “I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved…I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” John 10: 9-10.

We cheer for the unsung heroes of fantasy: the Frodo’s, the Charlie Bones’, the Edward’s, the Meggie’s, the Luik’s, the Aidan’s, the Willow’s, and the Kale’s. When they rise up and defeat some hideous evil, a piece of us rises up with them. It’s exhilarating and often inspiring. We want to see good triumph and evil thrown down once and for all. Fantasy provides an echo of our longing for God, His justice, and His eternal victory.

When I was a “wanna-bee” author and mainly a fantasy reader, I used to think that maybe this next point was just me. But after receiving numerous letters and emails from my readers, I’ve come to learn that many people come to fantasy to wrestle with the big questions. Who am I? Why am I here? Does my life mean anything…anything at all? And the big one: does anyone out there really love me? You might be thinking, those are questions for non-Christians only. I disagree. Os Guiness, Phillip Yancey, James Dobson, among others, disagree as well. Still, I might be in the minority, but I wonder about these things. Oh, I know what the Bible says about each of these issues. And thank God that God addresses each question mightily. But still, I sometimes wonder.

My soul continues to search. Why isn’t cancer cured yet? Why are there so many denominations when Jesus called us to unity? Why won’t God audibly speak to me like He did to folks in the Bible? Why do my own children fight me when I’m just trying to help them? Why is sin still so tempting? Why do Christians fight and slander one another over the dumbest things? And why do people I trust let me down? Honestly, writing fantasy has helped me in this varied search. In some ways, Aidan, Antoinette, and Robby in The Door Within Trilogy each mirror a different stage of my Christian development. And in my new book Sword in the Stars (AMG, 2010), I’m a lot more like Alastair Coldhollow than I’d care to admit. But the fantasy helps. Genre conventions such as world-building allow me to strip away some of the superficial gunk that builds up on us over time in our world. Immersed in new races and cultures, I am free to look at certain issues and really –see– them. In the books that follow Sword in the Stars (7 books in the series), I’ll be delving into a ton of issues and hopefully giving my readers a healthy shaking.

And these books are neither Christian fantasy books or anti-Christian fantasy books. They are fantasy books that I hope will appeal to the sojourner in all of us. Until we meet again, you can find me at the Green Dragon, lifting a tankard and calling out my message to anyone who will listen: Wake up, go soul searching.

~~~~~~~~~

Wayne Thomas Batson (born 1968 in Seabrook, Maryland) is an American writer. He has been married to his wife for seventeen years and has four children. Mr. Batson is also a middle school teacher of twenty years experience and continues to teach reading at Folly Quarter Middle School.

In 2005 – 2006, Batson wrote The Door Within Trilogy, published by Tommy Nelson, a division of Thomas Nelson Publishing House. Between 2007-2008, he wrote two pirate adventures novels: Isle of Swords and Isle of Fire. After 2008, Mr. Batson coauthored with Christopher Hopper The Berinfell Prophecies: Curse of the Spider King and Venom and Song. His most ambitious work has just begun: A seven-volume epic fantasy series called The Dark Sea Annals. Sword in the Stars released in November of 2010. Book 2, The Errant King, is due out in Fall 2011.

Mr. Batson is also working on a supernatural thriller aimed at more mature audiences than his previous books. Ghost (tentative title) is scheduled for a Spring 2011 Kindle release.

So since last my last column, a film I haven’t seen yet (but want to, because all my cool friends think it was great) called The King’s Speech won Oscar awards, including for best 2010 film. It is now the subject of some controversy, for similar reasons to those discussed last week:

Is a culture-designated Bad Word always bad, even if it’s used in Fictitious Cussing?

Apparently the film’s producers would like to market the film to a wider audience, so they have cut out several Bad Words. Yet I understand that in the film, a speech trainer, trying to help the king get past a stutter, taught him to say those words, not angrily, but for practice.

So do they still constitute Bad Words? Evidently the MPAA thought so, thus giving The King’s Speech an R rating; without the words it would likely be PG-13.

On this website, the presumably non-Christian writer of course doesn’t see the big deal. To him it’s all about freedom. And as an American I can understand that; however, as a Christian, I know that the Lord places a higher value on love for others than on personal freedoms I might otherwise exercise.

For example, in 1 Corinthians 10, when Paul begins to end his discussion about whether Christians have the freedom to eat meat that’s been offered to idols elsewhere:

[Quoting a then-popular slogan] “All things are lawful,” but not all things are helpful. “All things are lawful,” but not all things build up. Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor.

— 1 Corinthians 10: 23-24

So that cinches it: even if technically you should be able to use a Bad Word, even only in fiction, you ought not to, if it won’t benefit your neighbor. … Or not? Because Paul goes on and immediately says:

Eat whatever is sold in the meat market without raising any question on the ground of conscience. For “the earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof.”

— 1 Corinthians 10: 25-26

Confusing? Perhaps, but mainly complex — possibly because people are so complex.

Last week’s discussion included several aspects of the issue, such as the claim that “if you cuss, you’re not a Christian,” “Christian fiction is lame if authors can’t repeat bad words,” and even “why can’t we simply compromise and use substitute words or paraphrases”?

Now comes some of the harder stuff, in which I’ll attempt to present some more arguments for and against Fictitious Cussing — not anger-induced cussing in real life. Also: relevant Scriptures, my own observations and questions, some even rhetorical.

Next week I’ll conclude. I can’t offer a decision, though; I’m still sorting this one out. Thus, any thoughts are most welcome.

Against: ‘Why do we need the cussing?’

That question seems to have a false premise — that someone asking why Christians must ban Cusswords is also claiming he “needs” them. Unfortunately the question could also carry a self-righteous implication: I don’t “need” to watch this movie; why do you, hmm?

Legalists use this line. The New Testament never does. Its writers constantly ask whether a particular action or practice will bring glory to God.

Paul says this very thing, applying to “whatever you do” (1 Cor. 10:31). Yet he qualifies this one verse later (10:32) with a command to do whatever you can not to offend religious Jews or pagan Greeks or the Christian capital-c Church. That’s quite a tall order!

So the question is not one of whether a reader needs Fictitious Cussing, but simply: why do we act as though Fictitious Cussing is the top sin to be banned from our books?

• Could it be that in our hope not to offend some in the Church, Christians may offend pagans — who see a hideous world but only whitewashed versions of it in our fiction?
• Could it be that many Christians in their novels and art have inadvertently acted as if the Gospel only seems to work in a pre-cleaned world?
• If so, which “side” is really “offended” in a way contradicting what Paul encourages?

Thus, is it right or respectful, or even consistent, for Christian publishers to ban all use of Cusswords? Does that impose what could be a personal conviction on all its writers and readers, who may have different emphases: marketing to the Church, or to pagan “Greeks”?

I also must maintain that even if Fictitious Cussing is a genuine sin, Christians who act as if it’s the greatest sin leave the doors wide open for in-fiction descriptions of other sins, especially emotional lust. Many Christian romances are notorious for exploiting such loopholes, avoiding overt sex scenes but also reveling in lustful interactions, emotional and physical, which in effect becomes porn for women — to the point where many women I know have shunned these novels to avoid temptations!

Unlike intense descriptions of violence — which the Bible does contain — or even details about false beliefs contrasted with truth, emotional-porn almost invariably tempts a person to indulge in the same sins. And for all the focus on possible gnats of Bad Words, some publishers swallow the camel of out-of-context, never-rebutted-for-the-sin-that-it-would-be emotional pornography.

Sin can always find a loophole, always seep in — despite our rules, man-made or otherwise.

For: ‘Cussing helps show the evil in our world.’

Conversely, I can understand a why-do-we-need-it question being asked honestly, without self-righteousness. I asked it myself two weeks ago, with the reminder that a good novel or film need not include Cusswords (or a lot of Cusswords) to echo accurately the grittiness of evil.

Consider not just The Lord of the Rings, as Becky pointed out, but one of the grittiest films of the last decade, which shows evil for what it is and yet doesn’t require inordinate amounts of Bad Words to do so: The Dark Knight. Does the Joker swear? He doesn’t need to. He shows, not tells. And the story shows, with Bad Language when necessary, the reality of evil and the need to fight it.

Even the violence of The Dark Knight is surprisingly non-graphic. [Director] Christopher Nolan is a genius at not showing his audiences something, instead letting them infer it, and thus engaging the imagination more and making something even more potent by paradoxically not showing as much as he could have. Example: the Joker slitting someone’s throat, in which nothing is shown, but the buildup, tension, and portrayed aftereffect come off as just as intense as if an action was actually shown. This is also why older horror films are often much scarier and more intense than newer slash-and-show-all-of-it-in-3D movies. A less-is-more principle.

Still this depends on a genre. Though The Dark Knight contained no gratuitous swearing, the cusswords were there, because that’s how police officers and especially villains would speak. If you a publisher decide to ban all cusswords, just in case, that does seem to limit where an author can set a novel and whether he can make the situation seem authentic.

Thus, sci-fi or fantasy worlds with made-up languages, including “bad words”: okay.

Contemporary fiction set in a contemporary church environment, showing sins like hypocrisy and even the effects of adultery: okay.

Urban fantasy set in the inner city, involving a street preacher and “zombies” resulting from humans rejecting the Gospel and glorying in their depravity (free idea!): okay, but only if you leave out even non-theological uses of “hell” and “damn” and only say “he swore,” if that.

So I’m not sure I favor supporting a Christian publisher drawing a line for all Christians that Scripture itself doesn’t specifically draw for all Christians.

Next week: more on the conscience issues I mentioned above, which I must delay until next week to address them fully. Yet my guess is that others will start that discussion below.

One of my greatly anticipated spec-fic books of the year was officially released yesterday: C.S. Lakin’s The Map Across Time (I reviewed it on my own blog, here). I absolutely love the cover art for this book and was fascinated to discover that AMG/Living Ink, Susanne’s publisher, let her pick her own artist and design her own covers.

Her pick was Gary A. Lippincott, whose work makes me think of classic children’s books, of worlds where all lines are delicate, of story lands where intricacy is beauty.

Not long ago I spent a weekend as part of an artist’s conference where everyone was supposed to come together in confluence (“Now,” the leader said, “we’re all going to . . . conflue? What is the verb form of confluence, anyway?”). We all stationed ourselves around a big room and “did art”: I wrote poetry and sometimes read it aloud or sang, painters painted, my best friend danced. We tried to influence and to soak up influences.

Working with visual artists was fascinating to me. I regularly create productions that bring together performance and literary art, but I don’t have a painter’s bone in my body. Yet, I know that art has had a powerful effect on my imagination over the years.

My grandparents had an illustrated version of The Pilgrim’s Progress, called Dangerous Journey, which I would read half under the covers with a mixture of fear and delight. The art was scary as anything, but also delicate and intricate and beautiful. And my inner images of the Christian life have looked a little like it ever since.

Of course, Dangerous Journey hit me at an impressionable time in my life. But artwork is still powerful, especially for a person like me who can’t see images of my own–my mind doesn’t work like that, but will gladly borrow the images of others.The arts have this amazing way of coming together to create lasting impact, whether it’s the cover on a book, the illustrations within it, the music we listen to as we read or write, or the metaphors and turns of phrase writers use to ensure readers will never see certain things the same way again. I can’t imagine one of the arts without all the others.

I’m curious: what images, illustrators, etc have given shape to your deepest concepts of faith and fantasy?

“Minas Tirith. City of kings.” And here is the model of the White City so wonderfully portrayed in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings — especially the final book of the greater book, The Return of the King — and also shown in the Lord of the Rings film series.

Actually, this isn’t the work of the New Zealand effects house Weta Workshop at all. Instead it’s a replica model assembled by artist Patrick Acton. He took three years putting this together, using (as his website says) 24,000 small wooden blocks to form Mount Mindolluin, and to comprise the White City itself, about 420,000 matchsticks.

And one of his previous projects: a replica of none other than Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, from J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series — upon which this design, for the film series, was based.

Acton’s matchstick version of Hogwarts has been sold to an attraction in Spain called “The HOUSE OF KATMANDU”. By the time the final building (the Clock Tower buidling) was finished it had taken Acton nearly three years to build, and it contains over a 602,000 matchsticks held together with 15 gallons of carpenter’s wood glue. Hogwarts is Acton’s largest matchstick model to date.

Whew. Just whew.

Of course now that these models are complete, they look fantastic. But imagine the constant, repetitious, plodding labor required to design the thing, cut the matchsticks to size, apply glue, lay them in place, make sure it stays, make sure it looks right, then repeat hundreds of thousands of times. Though the construction process is just as much Art as seeing the finished product, surely the process often doesn’t feel like it.

Authors can empathize. A finished novel, especially if it’s published and seen by many, lends greater credibility and worth to the entire plodding process.

But in the middle of the process, especially if the novel isn’t guaranteed fame or publication — isn’t it difficult to see the point?

Might all this writing and world-building often seem only like wasting time? As if doing mere busywork? Cleaning the same closet day after day? Practicing the same song on a musical instrument? Using tweezers to move a dirt pile? Re-writing the same sentence/paragraph/chapter/book over and over? Debunking the same wrong ideas on the internet, over and over and over?

Last month I’ve felt that way several times. And I’m wondering if others — really, how others — may empathize.