In episode 7, we promised our next episode would focus on Frank E. Peretti’s This Present Darkness.

But first, a word from our biggest news of 2020.

In Fantastical Truth episode 8, Zackary Russell and I share a few “favorite” pandemic stories, including the recent Planet of the Apes film trilogy and Tosca Lee’s 2019 novel The Line Between.

These stories can actually help Christians prepare our imaginations for these trials—or even worse suffering.

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Lorehaven reviews The Line Between

These truth glimpses give The Line Between surprising heart-warmth amongst the chill, while its road-trip quest drives fast through mad territory and never once feels bogged down in snowbanks. Even by the finale, we get hints that our heroes have learned that yes, sometimes you must stay preserved from a world gone mad, but for the greater mission of helping others in that world. As Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn wrote, you can’t simply separate from evil people—not even cultists—in order to avoid evil. That very line between evil and good cuts through every human heart.

• Read the full review in Lorehaven magazine’s spring 2019 issue.
• Read our interview with bestselling novelist Tosca Lee.
• Subscribe free to get every issue.

Quotes and notes

• In 2017, Mark Carver wrote at Speculative Faith, “It’s interesting how the biggest threat to human existence rarely gets news coverage. It’s not North Korea or global warming or white privilege; it’s disease.” (Down With the Sickness, Sept. 20, 2017)
• Big lessons of pandemics: we’re not in control. These events challenge us to ask ourselves, “Where is my hope?”
• We blame politicians or countries or each other, or downplay the problem versus panicking, and/or buy into conspiracy theories—all because doing so gives us a sense of control.
• Christians may be material “preppers,” but we must always be preppers for times of suffering.

Most of us don’t five focused thought to evil and suffering until we experience them. This forces us to formulate perspective on the fly, at a time when our thinking is muddled and we’re exhausted and consumed by pressing issues. Readers who have “been there” will attest that it’s far better to think through suffering in advance.

—Randy Alcorn, If God is Good, page 14

Read the complete show notes here.

Then, next week in episode 9, we really will explore that 1980s Peretti-verse as originally promised.

Godspeed, and stay healthy,

Stephen

I don’t mean to sound flippant, but the name for the virus which is spreading faster than we’d like, and which has caused a number of head-turning closures—like March Madness and the NBA, the end of MLB Spring Training, schools in upwards of 30 different states, and any number of churches—the name of this thing is a bit long and the shortened version is not easy to remember (at least not for me, largely because I’m not that great with names, I guess.) So I’m settling on The Virus Thing.

I know for some people the quick spreading, deadly illness can be quite fearful. That’s why stores have sold out of things like sanitizer and sanitary wipes and health masks. Why the run on toilet paper, is another topic for another time, but I guess it does illustrate what fearful people will do. No logic to is, but everyone else is buying it up, so I’d better buy it up too.

And then there are the get-rich-at-everyone-else’s-expense schemers who an unverified report claims, are now selling the hoarded toilet paper on eBay for an exorbitant price. Such is the way fear can dictate society’s reaction to a widespread danger.

As it happens, speculative author Jill Williamson just released a novel in November, 2019, that now feels eerily spot on. Thirst is a prequel to her dystopian series, The Safe Lands, in essence explaining how the world got the way it was when the first novel in the series, Captives, opens.

Back in January I featured Thirst in one of our Fiction Friday segments.

Little did I realize that The Virus Thing would soon have an effect here and around the globe in a way that feels like it came from the pages of that book. Especially this part from the back cover copy:

Desperation brings out the worst in many of the travelers, infecting even those closest to Eli. When division comes, will he be able to hold his group together or will each fall victim to their own thirst for survival?

Of course we haven’t seen desperation bring out the worst yet. Just the crazy. (Toilet paper?? I can’t get over that one. As if having lots of toilet paper will safeguard anyone from a virus!)

Maybe that’s because no one actually, really is desperate. They just want to hedge things against desperation now while they can.

I’m not saying we are anywhere close to experiencing events such as the characters in Jill’s novel experienced, but it is a good study of society and how quickly order can descend into chaos.

I’m not saying that’s where we’re headed at this time either. I just think it feels eerily prescient that Jill wrote Thirst months before The Virus Thing broke out.

In all this public reaction to our current situation, I think a couple things remain clear:

1. Christians should behave in a way that marks us as Christians. We should still be kind to our neighbor, to the people in the never-ending grocery line.
2. We should resist the urge to take over for God. We can’t hedge ourselves against death. Our times are in God’s hands. Buying extra canned goods will not extend our lives a single day beyond God’s plan for our lives.
3. We should remember that God is faithful, not just in good times. He is faithful even when the storm swamps the boat, even when we’re pushed into the fiery furnace, even when we’re trapped between the Red Sea and Pharaoh’s army. He’s faithful when we face a giant and all we have is a sling.

For the sake of Spec Faith, I couldn’t help but point out that speculative fiction is a great source for understanding the “what if’s” of life. Jill’s story gives us a window into our society as we face a new uncertainty. Well, new to us. A century ago people dealt with influenza, pre-antibiotics, and  that must have been very hard and frightening. In centuries before that, people faced the Black Plague and Cholera and other diseases that took thousands of lives.

But in the 21st century, dealing with a quick-spreading disease that has no specific drug that will arrest it, is new ground.

Reactions vary from those who hoard, and those who mock, to those who go on as if nothing has changed. I guess I lean toward the latter. Sure, families have new challenges—with kids home from school and various meetings and conferences cancelled. I definitely don’t think we should be in panic mode, but I also think we need a bit of generous respect when it comes to taking health precautions.

Now is the time to be good neighbors, to show kindness, to stay connected (and we are blessed with so many ways of staying connected electronically), and to pray.

That’s probably the most important thing Christians can do. That and speak the truth about who God is, about how important it is to keep our eyes fixed on the One who holds us in His hand.

Our Fantastical Truth podcast now features on the new Lorehaven channel on YouTube.

Podcast producer Zackary Russell has already uploaded video adaptations of our first four podcast episodes (plus a trailer and clip).

Subscribe to Lorehaven on YouTube for all the new videos, especially if you click that famous bell icon to get mobile device notifications.

Of course, you can also listen to the podcast using all the major podcast players, or listen to episodes right here at Lorehaven.com.

Of course, episode 7, How Does Jesus Define and Redeem His Gift of Imagination? | with Brian Godawa, released this week:

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Godspeed!

Stephen

Today’s media produces entertainment featuring strong female characters.¹ However, in depicting such characters, there is an over-emphasis of physical strength. Is this the only way to show feminine prowess?

In Star Trek: Voyager, B’Elanna Torres is a human/Klingon hybrid. She is known for her volatile temper, her strength, and her aggression. In the episode entitled “Living Witness”, the Doctor in reminiscence, makes this comment: “B’Elanna Torres. Intelligent, beautiful and with a chip on her shoulder the size of the Horsehead Nebula. She also had a kind of vulnerability that made her quite endearing.”

Let me state here: I’m glad more women are being seen in roles of strength. There are more diverse stories, interesting conundrums to ponder through, etc. Wonder Woman can flip over cars, deflect bullets, and keep her hair from getting dusty while debris is flying all over the place. Captain Marvel can take a punch by Thanos. Heck, I once got hit in the face by a baby and got a black eye.

The women are kicking butt just as hard as men…which I think it part of the fascination and the problem. These characters, along with others, focus on physical strength. There is an over-emphasis on physical strength as the deciding factor of strong female characters.

Ultimately, I believe it comes down to this question: Does having a strong female character simply mean having a girl kick guy in face or is there more to her than just physical strength?

Let’s explore some iconic and well-known fictional female characters. This list doesn’t pretend to be exhaustive by any means. I know I could have chosen dozens, perhaps hundreds more.

But then Speculative Faith would probably send me a reminder that brevity is an unacknowledged fruit of the Spirit. 😊

Chun Li, Streetfighter Game Franchise

Chun Li. Image copyright: Capcom.

When I think of a strong female character that fits the ‘girl kicks guy in face’ like a glove to a hand, I think of Chun Li. According to trusty Wikipedia: “While she isn’t the first playable female fighter, she is the first playable female fighter of any fighting game franchise to gain mainstream recognition…”

Within the context of this character, there is still remnants of a softer femininity that the game creators kept. After she wins a round, she does this cute little laugh and jumps up and down like a young girl while the poor warrior is wallowing in his blood.

Weaker sex, my big toe!

Of interest is Chun Li’s backstory. She trying to take Bison, the man who killed her father. Her motivation remains the same throughout most of the incarnations and reincarnations of the game and the films. However, after she defeats Bison, she says something to the effect of she’s going back to being an ordinary girl.  In this context, she was already trained in various martial arts but it was for a specific purpose. Physical strength was not her for all and be all of existence.

Okoye, General of the Dora Milaje in the Black Panther Universe and the fictional African country of Wakanda.

Since I’m not a comic book fan I can only discuss her portrayal in the movie.

Okoye. Image copyright: Marvel Studios

This character can kick a guy in the face. And stab him while he’s still recovering from the blow.  Her physical strength is what made her an asset to King T’Challa.

Yet it is her sense of duty that really struck me as a core element of feminine strength.  Duty and honor go hand in hand. Okoye’s duty lies to the king of Wakanda even at the cost of her own desires. This is made evident when Kilmonger usurps the throne. Believing that King T’Challa is dead, despite her feelings, she gives her allegiance to the new king.

When it’s discovered that King T’Challa is still alive, which still makes him the king to serve, she does so by fighting against Kilmonger. Though her strength is an asset, it is duty and honor that makes her strong.

The Mistress of Storytelling – Scheherazade

Far as I know, Scheherazade wasn’t strong in the physical sense. Most of the tales she told the anthology were tales from antiquity.

Scheherazade by Sophie Gengembre Anderson – Public Domain

According to the English translation of Arabian nights, she is described as: “Scheherazade had perused the books, annals, and legends of preceding Kings, and the stories, examples, and instances of bygone men and things; indeed it was said that she had collected a thousand books of histories relating to antique races and departed rulers. She had perused the works of the poets and knew them by heart; she had studied philosophy and the sciences, arts, and accomplishments; and she was pleasant and polite, wise and witty, well read and well bred.”

Imagination and creativity was her strong suit. She saved her life by telling bedtime stories. Stories are the universal language of the planet. It builds bridges, and cements relationships. When we share in story, as Scheherazade did, we share in the human experience.

Sarah Connor – The Terminator Franchise

Sarah Connor’s character grows as she works to give her son every advantage to fight against the machines destined to take over the world. In Terminator 1, she’s just flimsy thing, very soft and just a regular girl.

Sarah Connor. Image copyright: TriStar Pictures

Now, in Terminator 2, she becomes this hardened and cynical warrior. If you notice, her appearance has changed drastically, bearing more muscles and leanness, erasing the softer part of her character. Now, we do know her story arc. She’s doing everything she can to prevent Judgement Day. There’s a scene in the movie where she must decide between killing an innocent who may be guilty one day or not. It’s an interesting scene because she comes to the realization that she’s doing the exact same thing the murderous terminators from the future are doing – taking care of a problem before it becomes one.

At the end, it’s not her physical strength that takes precedence but the compassion for another human being that makes her strong enough to NOT kill the person.

Dana Scully, The X-Files

It would be remiss of me to not mention everyone’s favorite female skeptic, Dana Scully. Throwing aside all tropes about green-eyed redheads being temperamental and emotional, she took the stand as level-headed woman, only interested in what science could tell her.

Dana Scully. Image copyright: Fox Television.

This shows a characteristic of feminine strength is of logic and reason. Women are cerebral to the extreme. Generally speaking, women talk. Contrary to popular belief, they talk over things not always because it is an emotional outlet though it can certainly be that. I’ll be the first to admit that.  Sometimes, we’re working out a problem.

A woman may not want a solution at that moment but while she’s talking it out, she is expressing a lot of things about whatever is on her mind. Is this not what analytical fields do – explore a variety of avenues until they come up a solution?

Ellen Ripley, the Alien Franchise

Sacrifice is another aspect of feminine strength. The female character that comes to mind is Ellen Ripley of the Alien franchise.

Ellen Ripley. Image copyright, 20th Century Fox.

Ellen Ripley sacrificed being with her daughter, in the first movie, to provide a better life for her. This action leads to an event that changes her life forever. Encounter with an abandoned ship which leads us down the path of meeting a murderous alien species who uses us as incubators for their young.

In Aliens, the second movie of the franchise, there’s a marvelous battle between Ripley and the Alien Queen. It’s probably the best cat fight ever.

Allow me to wax on about the scene from Aliens. These are two females showing the fierceness of the gender in a maternal role. Both are females protecting their young – communicating their intentions and willing to go head to head to protect them…or avenge them!

I’m sure there are more characters I can pull from popular culture from all over the world that would depict women as strong characters bereft of physical strength.

It brings me to my conclusion as I parallel this to the Bible and what woman personifies what a strong woman is.

Proverbs 31 is a message from a woman to her son. It’s well known in all of Christendom. The verse 10-31 are often cited as The Virtuous Woman. In these few verses, we gain insight to a woman who is an entrepreneur, a housewife, mother, lover, a safe place, and a blessing. She’s not subservient, not chattel, not a second-class citizen, not an afterthought. She is front and center. She is a strong female.

The person who I can best see who embodies all the aspects of the virtuous woman is you, my sister in Christ.  It is He who lives in you that makes you strong. All these fictional female characters must rely on themselves. We, virtuous women, we don’t have to rely on ourselves.

Our sense of duty and honor, our compassion, our reasoning, everything is based in Him. He is what makes us strong and all others are poor imitations.

What attributes did I leave out? What fictional female characters can you think of? I kept it in the speculative fiction arena but I know there’s more? What are your thoughts?

Recently I wrote about three distinctly Christian spec-fiction tropes and why they don’t, generally speaking, work for me. It would seem logical, on the face of things, to think that stories inspired by Christian tradition would appeal to Christians. Deeper in, things are more complicated. The dynamic of offering people fiction that entangles with their convictions is two-fold. An interest, and sometimes attraction, is inherent. You may well draw them to your story. But they will come with the burden of belief.

People usually come to stories, and especially science fiction and fantasy, without belief. It’s the ideal way to come. You’re prepared to take the ride and it doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not. Look at all the enthusiasm (and money!) people have thrown to the idea that the Egyptian gods were actually parasitic alien overlords, or that the Norse gods are still with us as magic space Vikings. But then, there are no votaries of either the Egyptian or Norse gods left. There is no belief to come into conflict with the story. Try a similar tack with a living religion and watch how fast things get ugly.

Belief does not happily bear heresy or mockery. Beyond these, the burden of belief applies more subtle pressures. Belief brings with it (usually, ideally, we hope) greater knowledge – always a challenge to the writer. It’s not safe to smudge even small details; writers have been judged and readers have been lost over a misnumbered major highway or a flower blooming in the wrong month. People run what you say against what they know. Fumble the facts of their religion or politics and they will notice just as surely as when you fumble any other facts – and probably care more.

Belief fosters the peculiar sensitivity of kinship. Earlier I alluded to the sensitivity that defends and perhaps attacks on behalf of its own, but there is another sensitivity, one that doubles back against its own. Shared belief is a kind of kinship. If your audience recognizes that kinship, they may be endeared, or intrigued, or roused to full critical alertness. People are more forgiving of their own. Often they are more exacting, too. We’ve all known that with our families; we have all been unable to stand something in a family member – a foolish opinion, a bad decision – that we would barely have noticed in a stranger. Invoke the kinship of belief and you may invoke the sensitivity of kinship: the keenness to notice flaws and the impatience with them.

All belief – religious, political, even cultural – brings with it the burden of its earnestness. That is why people don’t necessarily like art any better for involving their religion. They will not be indifferent to the usage of their religion, but there are two ways to go from indifference. Not everyone goes soft. Some people go sharp. They care more, so they judge more strictly. I have seen Christians who are lenient in their criticism of Christian art, and more who are unsparing, and all of them have the same reason.

Because the burden of belief is that it belongs to you, and in one way or another, you care.

Behold another Fantastical Truth podcast episode. This one is chock-full of deep-magic goodness about God’s gift of human imagination.¹

This time we’re joined by biblical/supernatural novelist and nonfiction author Brian Godawa.

He’s the author of books like his newest fiction Jezebel: Harlot Queen of Israel and his nonfiction The Imagination of God.

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Here’s an excerpt from our show notes. You can get the full set at the podcast episode page.

We make these topic concessions:

• We can’t go into the entire “graven images” issue here (e.g. what do we do with pictures of Jesus in movies, coloring pages). Another time, perhaps.
• We also can’t address every historical instance of Christians idolizing images.
• We can’t deal with the issue of different personalities. God has gifted some of his people with (colloquially) “left brain” gifts, so they can be engineers or programmers or even theologians skilled in translating/exegeting words. And he’s gifted others with more “right brain” gifts. Side effect of either: hardship understanding the other type of person, or even wrongly judging them.

We explore imagination across the gospel narrative:

1. Creation.
2. Fall
3. Redemption, in old and new Testaments
4. Restoration

Next on Fantastical Truth:

This month we’re releasing our next Lorehaven issue. Its cover story explores our favorite Christian-made fantastical novels. This includes that classic of the 1980s, Frank Peretti’s This Present Darkness, a classic (especially for Christians!) supernatural thriller that asks: What If the Armies of Hell Tried to Invade Your Hometown? Lorehaven’s review chief, Austin Gunderson, will join the podcast to explore the Peretti-verse with us.

From the Writers’ Toolbox

As I’ve watched the five different Star Trek shows, still running six days a week on H&I, I’ve noticed something important about storytelling. In the various shows, created over a half century, there are some notable differences. Of course the original, produced before technological advances that make speculative elements come alive, felt quite artificial at times. I mean, the women wore those ridiculous miniskirts and nearly every episode had the crew jostled about and falling against walls and consoles. Not to mention that the poor red shirts were doomed to destruction and that Captain Kirk, in all likelihood, would win some female’s heart before the end of each episode.

What I’ve found by watching the shows night after night is that the evolution of storytelling mirrors that of movies. Some of the earlier shows actually seem a little slow. There’s more dialogue and not as many things blowing up, not as many people falling to phaser blasts. But in the last show, Enterprise, the story line is less thoughtful and more salacious, more violent. More action-packed, too.

Storytelling has changed.

We often talk about the need for realism in fiction, particularly in Christian fiction, but when we cite the movies we love, there’s little that is true to reality beyond the externals.

Of course, the externals are important. Who would want to replace the computer enhanced Aslan for an actor dressed in a lion costume? We want our Aslan to appear on the screen as a real lion.

The desire and push for realism in our stories has given impetus to those who believe Christian fiction should include sex, profanity, and vulgarity. After all, those are real.

But where is spiritual reality?

I think there’s something else not particularly real in twenty-first century stories, no matter how real the computer generated characters might appear. We could chalk this up to “that’s just movies” if it weren’t for the fact that screen writing is beginning to dominate the way we write novels, too.

I’ll characterize this unrealistic phenomenon as too much conflict. The Lord Of The Rings illustrates the point.

Some time ago I watched the last part of Peter Jackson’s The Two Towers on TV shortly after re-reading the Lord Of The Rings trilogy. The main thing I noticed was conflict in the movie where none existed in the book.

For example, in Tolkien’s original once Gandalf had freed Theodin, the king of Rohan, from the influence of Wormtongue, he quickly became his adviser. Théoden did what Gandalf told him to do: trusted Éomer as his new right hand, sent the women and children away to a place of protection (not Helms Deep), prepared his army to march on Isengard, sent out word to gather troops to support Gondor against Mordor. In the film version, however, Théoden fought Gandalf at every turn. He was nearly as depressed and suicidal as Denethor the Gondor steward.

There was also enhanced conflict between Arwen and her father Elrond about her staying in Middle Earth for Aragon. She finally decided to leave–an incident that did not happen in the book.

Another “it did not happen in the book” example also involved Aragon. On the way to Helms Deep (rather than to Isengard, as the book had it), the people of Rohan were attacked by Uruk-hai and Wargs. In the battle, Aragon was dragged over a cliff and fell to the river. His companions presumed him to be dead.

Then, too, Treebeard and the Ents decided they would not help in the war against Saruman. Merry and Pipin tried to talk him into it, but he refused, only promising to take them out of the forest at whatever point they wished. On the way, they came to a place where Saruman’s forces had destroyed the trees, and the Ents then arose and fought. The motivation in the book is the same, but the conflict between the hobbits and the Ents never existed.

In the segments concerning Frodo, there were more of these manufactured conflicts. Frodo and Sam argued about the effect the ring had and about their disparate treatment of Gollum. Then too, Faramir insisted on taking Sam, Frodo, and Gollum to Gondor with the intent to use the ring (which they spoke of openly in front of all Faramir’s men) in the battle against Mordor. When they reached Osgiliath, they were attacked by one of the Nazgul. Under the influence of its presence, Frodo acted as if he’d been possessed and nearly put on the ring. Faithful Sam tackled him to stop him and they wrestled, with Frodo pulling his sword on Sam. None of this happened in the book.

As I thought about these differences, it seems to me that the movie was faithfully following the dictates of writing instructors who tell writers to make life hard for their characters and when it’s as bad as it can get, make it worse.

But is that reality?

Do friends always turn against one another? Does the hero always fall to his apparent death? Do the once mighty always succumb to discouragement and despair? Does doubt and fear always push loved ones to leave?

The answer is, no.

Tolkien got it right in his version of The Lord of the Rings—he told a realistic story. Borimir succumbed to the power of the ring, but Faramir did not. Denethor became suicidal, but Théoden did not. Gandalf fell to his apparent death, but Aragon did not.

In showing the strength of Faramir, the healing of Théoden, the prowess of Aragon, Tolkien enhanced Borimir’s failure, Denethor’s selfish choice, and Gandalf’s sacrifice. In other words, by not taking every character to the brink before leading them back, he magnified each case in which a character was taken to the brink.

If all characters are victims of disaster, I suggest readers or viewers stop caring and start looking for the “out.” Will the character die and come back? Have a narrow escape? Have a death that only looks like death? In truth, all the arguing and betrayal and refusal becomes—predictable and boring and unrealistic. Soon the characters seem more like caricatures because none acts with nobility or courage or hope. All display their flawed selves with so little inner struggle. And this, we’ve come to believe, is realistic.

Perhaps this twenty-first century version of realism is another way in which we are not addressing spiritual issues realistically. We are, after all, made in God’s image. We have within us a moral sense of right and wrong. We also have a sin nature. In essence, we are divided at our core.

We experience the truth of Romans 7 day in and day out, doing the thing we hate and neglecting the thing we know we should do. We struggle in the inner person. But Romans 8 follows, too. We revel in the freedom from the law of sin and death, we experience God’s sovereign purpose to work all things for our good, we enjoy His nothing-can-separate-us love. In short, reality is a mixed bag along the journey. It’s not all bad until the miraculously impossible reversal.

In story writing, I believe in conflict, I really do, though I believe in tension more. I wonder if twenty-first century authors aren’t needlessly creating artificial, big-bang conflict when inner-struggle tension, more true to life, actually would make for a better story. Tolkien’s work convinces me that more external conflict isn’t particularly realistic nor is it always the best.

This article is an edited version of one posted in 2016, and the greater part of it is an edited version of one that first appeared here in January 2013.