The phrase “How God Stopped Being the Creator” refers to the thinking of many people today, including most scientists. This post looks at how it happened that they currently do not think of God as the Creator of the universe, even though a belief in a Creator God used to be common. This is actually a big subject, worthy of its own book. This post unfortunately will fly through some topics I’d like to dwell on, even though it winds up being long. But it will lay out the bare bones of what happened–because our current scientific culture is, like everything else, a product of history.

I’m mentioning this now because it’s important to recognize as we go forward that an increasingly atheistic orientation of science isn’t a product of science steadily progressing more and more, finding less and less room within its discoveries for God. Because that has never been entirely true–and certainly hasn’t been true in the last century or so of scientific discovery.

The oldest recorded history of science comes from astronomical observations of ancient Sumeria, records starting roughly at 3500 B.C. Which is about as old as the first writing itself (though sites like Stonehenge in various pre-literate societies that are concerned with astronomy are even older).

The Sumerians and the Babylonians after them noticed numerous patterns regularly occurring in heavens. And even though they saw that these patterns are regular and orderly, they usually attributed these actions to various gods and goddesses, whose motivations could be and often were in conflict with one another. Which should have caused the heavens to behave irregularly, but does not (though sometimes they seem to, such as when a new comet passes by Earth).  Though sometimes these ancients saw order in the world of the gods being imposed by a chief of the gods (An/Anu, later Marduk) or a council of gods, working together, their view of the universe allowed for a level of chaos in natural law (as should have been seen in astronomical observations) that’s actually foreign to nature.

The Persians, who took control of Babylon in 539 BC, believed in a single good God, Ahura Mazda, responsible for the order in the universe. While the evil “God” Ahriman was likewise responsible for chaos, destruction, and death (anything that ever goes wrong), with the two Deities locked in struggle since the beginning of the universe (both served by a host of lesser spirits).

The Ancient Greeks who were in contact with both Mesopotamia and Ancient Egypt, learned basic principles of mathematics from them, studied their astronomy, and at first shared with them a polytheistic worldview of a universe inherently in conflict with itself, as seen in the gods and goddesses in Homer’s epic poems quarreling with one another over which person on earth they intended to bestow favor. (The Greeks also ended up adapting Persian concepts of dualism, applying them mainly to notions of mind/spirit and real/ideal, rather than seeing dualism as limited to that of good verses evil.)

The Greek philosophers soon began to reason beyond what they had learned from the civilizations that came before them and branched out in their thinking in many diverse directions. Many questioned polytheistic religious ideas.

Some wrote as if there were only one God or a primary god who mattered more than all the others (e.g Xenophanes of Colophon and Aristotle’s discussion of a divine prime mover, among others), while others questioned the existence of all the gods either partially or wholly.

To summarize a complex issue, the most important concept of ancient Greek philosophers that relates to atheism is the concept of atomism, which held that the universe was composed of accidental encounters of particles that could not be broken down any further (“atom” comes from Greek words meaning “not divisible” or not consisting of any simpler components). As for the origin of the atoms themselves, they were seen as having always existed, though the form they accidentally gave the universe we experience now (by crashing into one another randomly) at one time did not exist (note that some Eastern Religions such as Jainism also developed similar concepts of an eternal universe).

Theists who believed in definite gods had usually believed that at some point in history that God or the gods created all that exists. The first atheistic answer to this presumption-of-creation was simple–no, the universe has actually existed forever and always had the ability to simply arrange itself by (also eternal) random forces. Epicurus, who did not actually teach the gods were non-existent, held that they were meaningless. They did not create the world, offer no guidance in life, and do not judge the dead–since there is no afterlife. This is essentially an ancient version of modern atheism.

The official adoption of Christianity in the Roman Empire some seven centuries later would solidify the idea that a single Deity was responsible for the order in the universe (as expressed in the Hebrew Bible centuries before Xenophanes’ birth). God’s plans may be beyond our understanding and may be subject to change if God so wills it, but essentially followed order in the minds of pre-Renaissance Christian thinkers such as Augustine and Aquinas–order derived from the rational nature of the mind of God. Ancient Greek philosophers were reinterpreted as having spoken about Christian concepts before Christ was born, through the indirect revelation of God through nature (which sometimes certainly seems to be true, in my opinion–but other times not so much).

Medieval times brought a tremendous loss of ancient knowledge as mostly illiterate Pagans tore down the structures of the Western Roman Empire. But the Medieval period eventually produced the first universities in Europe, which were among the first anywhere in the world. These benefited from some copies of ancient Greek texts preserved by Islamic scholars (and to a certain degree, Islamic thoughts on science) and contrary to popular belief, taught that the Earth is round. And though most Medieval thinkers believed that the Earth was the immovable center of the universe, some challenged that idea (i.e. Nicole Oresme). Roger Bacon and William of Ockham (both friars), among other thinkers of the late Middle Ages, laid some of the intellectual foundation that paved the way for the development of modern science.

Renaissance thinkers however are responsible for rediscovering Ancient Greek and Roman texts in a major way and saw themselves as causing the spirit of ancient times to be “reborn” into a new age (“renaissance” means “rebirth” in French). They generally held Medieval scholars in contempt (though they borrowed some of their best ideas) and are partly responsible for the fact that to this day many people don’t know how advanced the thinking of many Medieval philosophers actually was.

The Reformation also contributed to a disdain for the Medieval, since Protestants believed the Medieval Catholic church had lost its way–and a dedicated study of the text of the Bible (a text from ancient times) could restore true religion. Just as Renaissance philosophers saw the thinking of ancient times as restoring true freedom of thought and artist expression. (Note I would agree the Medieval Catholic church was in many ways off track–I’m definitely a Protestant. But everything Medieval was not nearly so bad as some people claimed both then and now.)

A real clash between scientific discovery and a religious institution occurred over the Geocentric model (the Earth at the center of the universe or at least Solar system) verses the Heliocentric model (the sun at the center), leading to the famous trial of Galileo Galilei. But note this clash can rightly be seen as over one ancient Greek text on the nature of the universe (Ptolemy’s), which was officially adopted by the Catholic Church (yes, in part because they believed it was more compatible with the Bible), verses astronomical observations that lined up with another set of ancient Greek observations (by Aristarchus of Samnos).

Heliocentricism won because of the data gathered to support it was much more simply explained from the point of view of the Earth orbiting the sun rather than the other way around. This led practically all Christians to eventually adopt the point of view that any of the relatively few Biblical references to the sun moving across the sky are merely referring to what it looks like from the ground, not to a Geocentric model.

Advancements in the methods of observation and mathematical methods led to the discoveries of Isaac Newton, who revolutionized four fields of study (more than any other scientist before or since): optics, calculus, laws of motion, and laws of gravity. Newton saw the universe as a finely crafted watch, created by God but now running by its own mechanism, the laws of nature running from the past forward across the entire universe, operating without any direct interference by God. Newton very much believed in a personal God, by the way, as did almost all other scientists of his era.

Newton’s discoveries (and other scientific discoveries of that time) would transform how people thought about the universe. The concept of a single orderly God expressing himself in nature was well over two thousand years old in Newton’s time–but the Biblical concept of an orderly God always allowed for God to make exceptions, to perform a miracle when and where he chose.  Once Newton’s works captured the popular imagination of his day, the miracles of the Bible were mocked as impossibilities and many Europeans began to think of God as being like the Aristotelian “prime mover,” with the rest of the universe being strictly determined by the laws of nature working since the initial beginning of time. The “prime mover”began the universe and established that it has order, but then had no further interaction with it afterwards, certainly not ever working any miracles, because miracles are a violation of natural law and thus impossible (meaning Christ had never resurrected–an idea in opposition to Christianity). As a religious position, this was called “Deism,” a view shared by U.S. president Thomas Jefferson.

Though there also was a surge in atheism around this time–atheists of this period simply affirming like the ancient atomists that the universe had existed forever, that it required no prime mover since it had always been running. While stating that a belief in God contributed positively to human morality, the French philosopher Voltaire mocked religion, especially Christianity, especially the miracles of the Bible, in thousands of essays that contributed to a surge in Europeans concluding there are no gods or God at all.

Voltaire once mocked the miracle of the sun standing still in Joshua chapter 10 on the basis that the sun standing still might seem plausible to a bunch of ignoramuses who thought the sun was small and passed through the Earth’s atmosphere, but “modern” science has discovered that the Earth actually rotates on its axis to produce days, so Joshua’s miracle would require (as far as Voltaire was concerned), the entire planet to come to a sudden halt, an event the entire world would have been aware of, and which due to the inertia Newton discovered, would cause everything on the planet to go hurtling forward into a nasty high-speed crash (like when you suddenly mash down hard on automobile brakes).

Some but not all Christians (and Jews) attempted to distance themselves from the idea of miracles as much as they could at this time, attributing blessings to “providence”–the laws of God working in our favor at any moment–rather than any kind of direct intervention by the Almighty. But they strongly maintained that the universe was inexplicable without God creating the order of the universe in the beginning (via the laws of nature).

Other believers strongly maintained miracles were a reality in nature and sometimes cited the diversity of life as a sign of God working miraculously with plants and animals. And of course, nothing in the laws of nature discovered by Newton directly addresses anything to do with life, so this was a point atheists of this period (the “Enlightenment”) could not directly answer.

Though in fact the Romantic literary movement after the Enlightenment probably did more to convince people of the truth of religion than any specific line of reasoning against atheism did. Romanticism stressed emotion and the importance of individual experience (and was a reaction against the rationality of people like Voltaire). During this time (up to about 1850), Christian religious revivals that stressed the importance of an individual being convicted of sin and coming to Christ through a personal salvation experience swept through the United States and the UK (though more in the US).

But in 1859, Charles Darwin published The Origin of the Species, the book that argued that laws similar to Newtonian laws operated within life–that the diversity of nature isn’t a miracle at all, but simply a natural occurrence, everything about life deterministic (once the laws of nature were understood) and non-miraculous. Some Christians in response doggedly held on to defending the concept of a prime mover, maintaining that life itself had to come from somewhere, as did the basic organization of the matter in the universe. But other thinkers were already extrapolating the idea that if species could have a strictly “natural” origin, so could everything else.

In 1896, the Austrian physicist Ludwig Boltzmann declared that random fluctuations in particles could eventually produce the world we know through nothing but variations of matter through sufficient time (Boltzmann’s theory has a significant flaw, something called a “Boltzmann brain,” which I’ll talk about in a later post). This notion was much like that the ancient Greek atomists–an eternal universe that eventually made itself what it is today via random chance. Which made the idea of a prime mover unneeded (since the universe was presumed to have always existed).

Around 1900, while many Christians were not engaged in the debate over the nature of reality at all (being more convinced by personal experiences of God’s existence than interested in reason–or believing that science and faith operate in separate spheres from one another), scientists as an overall group felt increasingly certain that they understood all the mysteries of the universe, that all was definitely self-creating, with only a tiny handful of issues to mop up (such as the observation of Mercury’s procession of perihelion not quite matching what Newtonian physics indicated it should be).

That’s when the idea that the God of the Judeo-Christian tradition has an important role in the making of the universe died for most intellectuals. It’s this period that also planted the idea that scientific progress is eliminating more and more “space” for God to operate, that knowledge continues to grow unchecked–and less and less about the universe is mysterious.

Data, Newton, Einstein, and Stephen Hawking–where the history of science and sci-fi meet.

But by 1920 or so, both relativity and quantum mechanics had been discovered (Albert Einstein was crucial to both). These scientific realities are actually in profound contradiction with one another as to whether the universe is essentially random or essentially deterministic. Literally no human being knows how they are supposed to fit together for certain–and scientists have not been able to figure this out for over 100 years. (Stephen Hawking in his book The Grand Design speculated that Relativity and Quantum Mechanics perhaps never will be reconciled with one another).

Relativity also shows that any point of reference is as good as another, so in fact the Planet Earth is as much the center of the universe as any other place–meaning it is not really incorrect to say the sun revolves around the Earth and the Earth stands still–this is actually true if you make Earth your reference point–a completely legitimate way to think according to Relativity. (A point of view completely unanticipated in the days of Newton).

And time does not have a single clock that the entire universe answers to, as per Newtonian thinking. In fact, time can and does flow more rapidly in some places than others. So for the miracle in Joshua 10 to be true, all that needed to happen was for time to flow slowly in the world outside of where Joshua’s army fought–which would freeze the apparent position of both the sun and the moon in the sky (both of which are mentioned in Joshua 10)–and which would produce an effect that no other part of the planet would be aware of. Voltaire’s mockery is dated–the miracle makes more sense now, scientifically speaking, than when Voltaire penned his attack.

Quantum mechanics asserts a certain level of randomness is part of the universe, which means highly improbable events referenced as miracles in the Bible don’t actually violate the strictly deterministic laws of physics (because at some level, they are not strictly deterministic). The Resurrection is no longer an impossibility that would run in violation of universal time (as Voltaire and others saw it), but is actually allowable under the known laws of physics–if every particle in Jesus’ body just happened to arrange itself just right. (Though this is extremely, extremely improbable in terms of particles simply rearranging themselves without a purpose or plan, quantum mechanics actually scientifically allows for this kind of miracle.)

And the ancient atheistic notion that the universe always existed? Cosmologists have demonstrated that this universe had a definite beginning. While their timeline does not match that of Young Earth Creationists, let’s not miss the key point that the simplest and most logical way for the universe to exist for an atheist–that it always been around–has mostly been eliminated from scientific discussion due to observations of the universe (the Big Bang et al).

While science has made enormous gains in knowledge and that knowledge has been applied to technology that affects our lives every day, basic concepts of how the universe works, what it’s made of, where did it come from? are actually more mysterious today than they were in 1900 (from the point of view of what scientists know that they don’t know).

Serious discussion of God as a Creator has been eliminated from the minds of most modern scientists by a chain of events that are almost an accident of history. Surprisingly perhaps, it actually makes more sense today, much more, based on the most recent science, to propose that the universe had a Creator with a purpose and will, than seemed to be true over a century ago. Or even than seemed to be true in the days of Newton.

The rest of the posts in this series will continue to demonstrate why the idea of God makes sense–why it’s clearer in terms of explaining the universe we see than the concept of a self-generating cosmos.

So what are your thoughts on the history of science or related topics? Please comment below.

Is fantasy merely escapism, or is something more profound woven into those tales?

Fantasy fiction whisks away readers to worlds filled with the strange, the ethereal, the alien. They conjure images of chosen warriors and dark armies fighting against nebulous powers.

These stories would seem to point one away from biblical truth, or at the very least distract from it.

However, I argue that fantasy does the opposite.

Raquel Byrnes (author of The Tremblers) is this week’s featured novelist in Lorehaven Book Clubs. Stop by the flagship book club on Facebook to learn more about this post-apocalyptic steampunk thriller. You can also join our ongoing book club selection this month, reading through James L. Rubart’s novel The Man He Never Was.

When we read fantasy, we begin a journey filled with trials and pitfalls that mirror our own struggles in living a faithful life. We see echoes of our own battles in fantasy. And so, we learn we are not alone.

One of the strengths of fantasy is that it is so hyperbolized. Everything is ratcheted up to a life or death level. The contrast, very often, between good and evil is stark and the results of turning toward good or toward evil are world-altering. The battles are usually not only for kingdoms, but sometimes even existence. Fantasy is a deeply symbolic form of storytelling that often brings to the forefront the ideas behind the symbols themselves; a tablet cracked, a throne restored, a crown that weighs heavy. And we realize our decisions have consequences.

In fantasy, we explore themes like stepping out in faith despite feeling woefully unprepared or equipped. Whether you’re a mother or a hobbit, we all experience fear at some point in our lives. Or perhaps it is the fight against enticement, whether it is power, lust, or even Turkish delight, that we identify with. When both the powerful and the simple were tempted in Tolkien’s tales did that not also warn us all that no one is immune? And so, we learn mercy.

The wandering hero is often found in this genre and strikes a chord with anyone who has felt alone in their own walk of faith or who have cried out and heard echoes in return. Yet there is always, however long it may take, an answer. We see we are not truly lost.

Through fantasy, we can explore the real consequences of deviating from the course laid out for us and trusting only in our own knowledge. A hero who insists on his own path out of pride or arrogance soon learns that humility can be as powerful as brawn. And though we may not face the literal fiery breath of a dragon, the beasts of sin are on the constant prowl for us. And so, we learn the value of wisdom.

Perhaps it is fantasy’s fascination with connections to something greater, whether it is a power to defeat evil or discernment to stop a war. Maybe it’s the strength to be just which draws us to those stories. It is through fantasy that we can struggle with profound questions about our own human condition. And it is where we can explore ideas of honor in the face of tyranny, courage despite almost guaranteed failure, giving oneself over to something larger than yourself, and fulfilling a calling that will define your life.

Redemption is one of the staple themes in fantasy where heroes are often battle worn and world weary. Where the baser aspects of human existence have left scars. We have stories where heroes are lost in who they are, paralyzed with anger, or crumbling under the mantle of expectations. And yet fantasy is a genre of hope. A chance to right wrongs. That is truly a Christian sentiment. We see it time and again in the Bible. Jesus forgiving a denier, God blessing a couple with a child, or the restoration of a people. Fantasy can point us to grace.

Symbolic and prophetic, these are the tales that teach us about strength and sacrifice. We walk with often deeply flawed characters through failure, consequences, and ultimately, we hope, their redemption. Fantasy takes us through depths of struggle, when it truly does cost dearly to stay the course. We see that faith is not always pretty. We see that it is often not easy. But fantasy shows us more. It shows us that it is worth it.

Subscribe to Lorehaven

“Anna Tan creates a beautiful multicultural world for Dongeng. . . . Danger and hope, fear and joy all come to life in this thoroughly fun adventure.”
— Lorehaven Magazine

Explore Anna Tan’s newest novel Dongeng in the Lorehaven Library.

Read our full review exclusively from the spring 2018 issue of Lorehaven Magazine!

Trends in anything are only generalizations. They do not indicate an exclusive, one-way-only route. Nevertheless, trends are a real thing in fiction. Presumably publishers see the success of one book or series in a genre, so they eagerly search for another of like kind.

We know this is true in Christian fiction which started with the trend of prairie romance and has seen the rise of what appears to be the never-ending trend of Amish fiction. In between, speculative fiction nosed its way into the conversation with the supernatural stories by Frank Peretti. But books of like kind had to wait. Other trends surface first, usually in conjunction with the trends in the general market.

In the not too distant past, we’ve seen such trends as dragon tales, illustrated by Eragon by Christopher Paolini, The Dragonriders of Pern series by Anne McCaffrey, and Dragon Keeper by Robin Hobb. In Christian fiction dragon stories and their success—books such as the Dragons in our Midst series by Bryan Davis and The DragonKeeper Chronicles by Donita Paul—had much to do with opening up traditional publishers to speculative fiction

Fairy stories, perhaps beginning with Artemis Fowl and the Artemis Fowl series by Eoin Colfer and continuing with The Spiderwick Chronicles by Tony DiTerlizzi and Holly Black, became one of the trends during the naughts of this century. More recently The Throne of Glass series by Sarah Maas have continued this trend. In Christian fiction, Anne Elisabeth Stengel captured the fairy craze with her Tales of Goldstone Wood series, and R. J. Anderson’s Knife trilogy represents fairy stories written by a Christian for the general market (and re-published later by Enclave).

Among the various trends, dystopian fiction factored heavily for a time. Certainly The Huger Games series by Suzanne Collins and the Divergent series by Veronica Roth have received the most attention, possibly because of their successful movies that followed the publication of the books. But the resurgence of this particular trend might have begun with the City of Ember series by Jeanne DuPrau. In Christian fiction, Jill Williamson capitalized on this trend with her own dystopian, The Safe Lands Series.

In discussing trends, I can not leave out vampire books. starting with Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles and including such series as The Vampire Diaries by L. J. Smith, Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series by Laurell K. Hamilton, and the highly publicized and successful Twilight Saga by Stephenie Meyer. Christians have also written vampire stories, from John Olson’s “vampire-less vampire story,” Shade.

More recently fairytale retellings and superhero stories seem to be all the rage. More often books make a splash and then become movies which bring in an even wider audience. Wicked by Gregory Maguire is an example of this trend. In Christian fiction Melanie Dickerson has been writing reworked fairy stories for some time, starting with The Healer’s Apprentice. Jill Williamson and her son Luke have done the same sort of thing in their middle grade books series, Tinker.

While superhero books are popular in the general market and can be spin-offs of the Marvel characters, Christian fiction seems to lean toward supernatural suspense instead: read, angel and demon books. Shannon Dittemore’s Angel’s Eyes series is one example of this, but I think there are many more in the rank of self-published books that follow this trend.

I could go on. Epic fantasy became a trend when The Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan was on the bestselling lists. Jill Williamson broke into Christian publishing with her own epic fantasy, The Blood of Kings series. Patrick Carr did likewise with his Sword and Staff series.

Then there is steam punk, and what about space opera or urban fantasy? In the Christian market one of the trends seems to be end times books.

The thing I find interesting is that each of these trends seems to have a beginning with some book that did not follow a trend. Either that, or one particular series, like the Harry Potter series, seems to have broken the mold, so that few, if any, books of like kind surface. My guess is that readers will all too quickly identify similar books as knock-offs, even if they aren’t.

What I’m wondering is, where do we go from here?

With the explosion of self-publishing and small publishers, I wonder if trends will remain pronounced or if writers writing the stories that they themselves like so much will remain true to their passion and consequently provide a wider array of books than we’ve seen in the past.

On the other hand, I wonder if movies full trends. People fall in love with the movie world and write a novel that fits into that genre. If that’s true, I wonder if science fiction will escape from the space opera franchises of Star Wars and Star Trek. Not only have those been successful movies, they have “soft science” which makes them more accessible to a wider audience.

All in all, I’m simply curious where speculative fiction, and in particular, Christian speculative fiction, goes from here. What are your thoughts?

Recently I spoke at a homeschooling convention on the question of why superheroes are so prevalent in our culture today.

Already this year the movie Black Panther has been a cultural phenomenon, as Wonder Woman was last year, and Avengers: Infinity War has broken multiple records in its first week of release.

How do we as Christians respond to this trend?

Jason Joyner, author of the forthcoming superhero novel Launch, explored superheroes in light of the gospel at the Texas Homeschool Convention this March.

First, we must ask: how did we get here?

Cultures throughout human history have had mythic heroes. Greek mythology may be the most recognizable, but from China to Native Americans to African tribes, myths have helped societies speak to things that are bigger than themselves.

Walter Wangerin Jr. said that myth is how we comprehend our own experience.

Author Don Richardson in his book Eternity In Their Hearts argues that cultures are primed for the gospel in different ways.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 states that, “He has also set eternity in the human heart.”

Paul the apostle takes advantage of this principle on Mars Hill in Athens when he speaks to the crowd from the altar for the unknown god there (Acts 17). He sees they recognize something they are missing, and he attempts to engage the crowd—not by preaching from Jewish law (his culture), but by speaking from creation (general revelation).

The idea of superheroes springs from our modern culture’s longing for transcendence out of our circumstances, and our intuitive sense that we need a savior. By recognizing this, we can use the idea of superheroes as a way to engage our culture.

C. S. Lewis talks about the idea of One True Myth. The Bible can be considered mythical, not in the “it isn’t true” sense, but in the idea that it deals with circumstances bigger than we can comprehend in human term:

“Now the story of Christ is simply a true myth: a myth working on us the same way as the others, but with this tremendous difference that it really happened: and one must be content to accept it in the same way, remembering that it is God’s myth where the others are men’s myths: i.e., the Pagan stories are God expressing Himself through the minds of poets, using such images as He found there, while Christianity is God expressing Himself through what we call ‘real things.’”

If the Bible and the stories within rise to this level of being “mythic”—speaking beyond human understanding, then superhero stories can be seen in a similar vein. In an uncertain world, it’s natural to look for hope in the stories we tell.

It’s not an unnatural relation between Christianity and superheroes. All we need to do is look at the Bible for miracles and heroic (and sometimes anti-heroic) characters. Moses parting the sea. Samson’s great strength. David and Goliath, or David’s mighty men from 2 Samuel 23. Nowadays we would call these folks superheroes.

Comic book creators have been making these connections for years. In Man of Steel, when Clark Kent heard the ultimatum from General Zod to surrender, he goes to a church to talk with a priest. Look at the photos and the placement of Jesus in Gethsemane. Director Zack Snyder knew what he was doing with this.

In Spider-Man 2, when Spider-Man stops the train, he is rescued by the passengers when he passes out from the strain. The following pictures show how director Sam Raimi echoes the stations of the cross as Spidey is brought in from the train.¹

Certainly, there are unpleasant aspects of comic book culture, from hypersexuality of the costumes, to outlandish violence, to crude situations like Deadpool. We cannot fully take on any popular culture aspect without discernment.

But when we look at our current preoccupation with superheroes, what does that say about our culture subconsciously?

I would argue that heroes are so compelling because we need a hero. We realize, whether directly or subconsciously, that we cannot overcome all that we encounter on our own. Try as we might, we are not able to complete our own salvation. We may fight valiantly, but our struggle is ultimately doomed against the supreme villain.

In the end, this attraction to heroes points us to the one who fought evil without ever turning to temptation. He went toe-to-toe with our greatest foe on our behalf. He sacrificed himself in defending truth, justice, and mercy. And when all seemed lost, he rose in even greater power and strength for the ultimate victory.

Jesus is my hero.

Now we can look for those things that speak to the “eternity in their hearts” principle. We can be mindful of our culture, as Paul was, and look for those times to speak truth when the opportunity arises. Whether in relating to people in real life or in our stories, we can speak to the need for hope, the need for a savior. And point them to the greatest hero of all.

This article will talk about some of the basic ideas that underpin Marvel’s latest movie, Infinity War. As such it will talk about a few things that happened in the movie (where the “Infinity Stones” come from, what the role God or gods have in the movie and a bit more) but nothing that anyone would normally consider a spoiler. Though if you want to know absolutely nothing about this movie before seeing it, skip this blog post, because it will discuss the movie a little bit, though it will only mention a few characters by name (and the Infinity Stones) and beyond that will stick to very general story world concepts.

This is not a movie review.

For readers looking forward to my next post in the Car-Universe series, please note that I find this topic does relate very much to that series. In that series, I talk about why it makes more sense to see the universe as created than as “naturally occurring” (because the universe does not follow the principles of “naturalness” as defined in my last post, part 4 of the series). In Infinity War, we see a story world that actually assumes the universe created itself, an idea that’s ubiquitous in our culture. The reality that these ideas permeate even superhero stories, even these stories that seem to have no overarching, message about society to the degree that Rebecca Miller in a recent Speculative Faith article wondered if that’s why they are so popular–I find that very significant.

In other words, the metaphysics of Infinity War demonstrates why it’s important to talk about where the universe came from as I’ve been doing in my Car-Universe series. Because the notion of a self-generating universe permeates popular culture–it’s there, even in stories that clearly have no interest in being preachy about the nature of reality.

The Collector explains the Infinity Stones.

So, how do we see where Infinity War talks about the basic nature of reality? Simply in that it states that the universe formed in an explosion and six stones appeared. In Guardians of the Galaxy, the Collector (Benicio Del Toro’s character) explains in a bit more detail: “Before creation itself, there were six singularities. Then the universe exploded into existence, and the remains of these systems were forged into concentrated ingots…Infinity Stones.”

While this statement hints at something existing before the Big Bang, creation is clearly linked to the idea that “the universe exploded into existence.” Whatever existed prior is not given a special or supernatural origin. It’s simply pre-existent materials, not so unlike what Roger Penrose’s Cycles of Time suggested existed before our current universe came into being. (Note that this is how the movie portrays the Infinity Stones–a bit of internet research revealed to me that the original story in the Marvel comics in fact spoke of the Infinity Stones having a supernatural origin.)

Thanos with two Infinity Stones.

These very powerful “artifacts” (which in fact generate themselves in Infinity War, so are not really artifacts in the normal sense) that have so much power as to control the destiny of the entire universe, who controls them? Well, each has their own story, but the presumption of the story universe is that at one time no one controlled them. They were gathered up and collected by various beings over time–including at one point the “Asgardians” who North Germanic tribes and Scandinavians would worship as gods. And, pivotal to the plot of Infinity War, Thanos seeks to bring them all under his control.

So there is no overarching power in the universe. The universe just comes into being, just because, and those who increase in power do so over a process of time, not really by evolution (as it’s thought to operate) to be fair, but in a process that parallels it, in which by continuous effort beings make themselves more and more powerful. More and more godlike.

God, the Christian Deity, gets two references in Infinity War. One is a tongue-in-cheek statement by Chris Pratt’s Star Lord, in which when asked who he belongs to (meaning either Thanos or not), he quips words along the lines of: “What am I supposed to say–Jesus?” The other is the word “God” (or “oh God,” or something close to that), escaping the lips of Steve Rodgers at one point, a character the original Avengers movie implied is a Christian (when he said God does not look like Thor). In that character’s mouth, the exclamation was not a prayer, but it wasn’t quite cursing either. But that’s all the movie shows–a few references to the Divine, but no actual evidence of faith. (Though perhaps I should not complain–quite often science fiction only references the Deity as a swear word. Infinity War is respectful in comparison.)

Nobody in the movie prays. When in fact (I can assure you), in times of real crisis, at least some people pray. Of course, why should they pray? It’s the heroes who will either save or fail to save the universe. God has nothing to do with it–not even with the origin of the universe itself.

Thanos on the throne.

That’s the backdrop, the metaphysics of Infinity War. A self-generating universe. A universe in which no God sits on the throne of sovereign rule of all (because there is no single ruler of all), but which Thanos is striving to take for himself. A universe without prayer. Without (it seems) genuine faith.

Note that the movie is not at all preachy about this worldview. It shows no signs of directly trying to convert those of us who happen to believe in God into disbelief. You have to look for its metaphysics to find it. Some people, including friends of mine who believe in God and who love science fiction, may not have noticed this worldview is embedded in this story at all.

But I have been to countries that retain a different point of view–in Uganda and Guatemala from a Christian perspective, in Afghanistan and Djibouti from an Islamic one (and other nations), where its simply a matter of course to reference God in ordinary conversation. “Primero Dios” you will hear in Guatemala and many other places in Latin America when discussing the future–“God first,” by which they mean, “if God wills.” (Inshalla is how to say that in Arabic.)

I said “retain” above because this how most Americans used to think in our history. But the point of view that God is important and is in control of the world, even if mysteriously, while still retained by a minority of Americans (and not just Christians), is not how most Americans think anymore. The notion of a self-generating everything, in which God is completely insignificant, deeply permeates our culture. It’s everywhere. Even in a story like Infinity War, in fact.

Note that I found this movie entertaining. Entertainment value is not what I’m talking about here. Note that I also found the movie has moral elements embedded in the story–e.g. Thanos striving to take control of the universe does rather resemble the traditional Christian view of Lucifer–so I’m not saying this movie was fundamentally immoral.

I would say the film does reflect some moral ideas and I did think the film was also fun and interesting, but even though I found the movie entertaining, what I said above is about what the worldview of the movie happens to be. The idea of a self-generating universe that forms the background of this story is actually found in many other places–it’s ubiquitous (or nearly so), found especially (but not exclusively) in most varieties of science fiction.

And through movies made in the United States, we export these ideas of a Godless universe to other nations that are not yet culturally on board with this idea, whether any American intends to do that or not. To places like Guatemala and Uganda.

This is why this idea is worth talking about. So we can be aware of it. So we can contest the logical errors of such a view of the universe in the non-fiction we write and so we can compose speculative fiction which better reflects the realities that the universe shows God-given order, that at least some real people pray, and that certain problems go beyond the ability of our heroes to resolve.

For fans of the story, me offering a criticism of its worldview may come across as a bummer. That’s not my intent–again, I enjoyed the story and am not trying to stop anyone else from enjoying it. But I do hope readers will think about the topic of its worldview and such thoughts will affect how they evaluate other stories in the future.

So what are your thoughts on Infinity War and its metaphysics? Please share them below.

History was made this past week as the leaders of two countries locked in what was technically the longest-running current war (more than seventy-two years) pledged to end that war and scale back their saber-rattling. How this will all play out remains to be seen, but it is a dramatic step back from the precipice of nuclear war that seemed like a terrifyingly real possibility only months before. Of course, talk is cheap and we have all learned by now not to simply trust the words of politicians. However, there is definitely a global sigh of relief that things seem to be improving in at least one part of the world.

Image copyright Reuters

As the internet rhetoric swirled and spun and debates blazed and burned, I got the impression from many doomsday-focused people (also known as “preppers”) that a North Korea/South Korea-US war would be the spark that would ignite World War Three and bring about Mutually Assured Destruction for all parties involved. I can’t say if any of them are actually excited about the possibility of nuclear war but there must certainly be some degree of satisfaction from seeing one’s preparatory efforts pay off (as well as thumbing their noses at their incinerated neighbors’ corpses for not believing them). Now the threat doesn’t seem as dire and it’s more-or-less back to business as usual (whatever that means) in our crazy, chaotic world.

Yet despite what preppers and conspiracy theorists and morons who drive vehicles with “Zombie Response Team” decals might imagine, there is nothing cool about a global nuclear apocalypse. Books, movies, and video games have made the irradiated wasteland and decimated cities into bullet-riddled playgrounds for heavy metal fashion shows. History has shown us plenty of examples of what to expect from a total war scenario, and even the nightly news gives us a glimpse of what a global catastrophe might look like. Entire city blocks reduced to rubble are now the defining landmarks of Syrian metropolises and despondent, ghost-like figures walk the streets in a daze. Roving bands of outlaws prey on the weak, and murder, rape, starvation, and misery are constant occurrences. Imagine if this was in every major city in the world. Famine and disease would be the most fearsome enemies, and every remaining resource would be quickly consumed. Desperate

Image copyright BBC

survival would be the only law as any remnants of civilization would evaporate.

One of the most gripping and presumably realistic apocalyptic movies is an old British film called Threads. It is relentlessly grim and bleak and has one of the most horrifying endings of any film I’ve seen. In typical British fashion, this film strives for unflinching realism, which does not make for a particularly entertaining movie but it is certainly captivating. Fantastical elements like gladiator vehicles and fashionably-tattered leather outfits are nowhere to be found. It is just tragedy after tragedy, which is how a nuclear war would unfold.

The Bible, especially the Book of Revelation, foretells the horrors and despair of a global cataclysm. Revelation 6:14, talks about the sky rolling back like a scroll and the mountains and islands are moved out of their places, and Revelation 8:8 describes a mountain of fire thrown into the sea. Plagues and devastation cause the people of the Earth to cry out for the rocks to fall on them to hide them from God’s wrath (Rev. 6:16). People won’t become road warriors or zombie-slaughtering conquerors; they will become like animals, scrounging through the dirt to find anything that will keep them and their families alive.

Of course, these scenarios are why preppers hoard their food and ammunition, but something tells me things wouldn’t turn out the way they see it, either. Even in small-scale catastrophes, no one remains untouched and sheltered. Fortune may favor the prepared mind, but it is folly to think that preparation or bravado are enough to hold the apocalypse at bay.

Novelist James L. Rubart and his latest book, The Man He Never Was, feature in the new issue of Lorehaven magazine. Subscribe and download your free copy here. Then, join fellow Christian fantasy fans in Lorehaven Book Clubs (starting online) to read through Rubart’s novel this month!

Why another story about the light and dark halves of ourselves?

Since Robert Louis Stevenson penned The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde in the late 1800s, there have been 120 stage and film versions alone, not to mention all the novels and short stories using the trope.

Why did I think I had anything to add?

For a number of reasons, I suppose.

First, I didn’t think I had anything to add. I didn’t find the story, the story found me. I heard Tim Keller talk about how Stevenson was likely inspired by Romans 7 for his classic tale, and I was fascinated.

In Stevenson’s story, Hyde wins in the end. With Christ, we win.

That fascination increased when Keller said, in effect, “With Christ we go from a civil war we can’t win, to a battle we cannot lose.” I wanted to know how to win more often. Not in the future. Now. Not in theory. In practice. Every day.

Second, I was struggling with how to love. Truly love. Not love the people that loved me, but the people who didn’t. How to love a relative I couldn’t avoid that is cruel and cutting and hurts people around me that I care deeply about.

God says to love these type of people the way He loves me. How is that possible? How can I love others without ever being offended? (Uh, have you watched the news or been on Facebook lately?)

How can I love without being provoked?  (See parentheses above.) How can I love without holding any record of wrong? Are you kidding? They’ll know we’re Christians by the way we love each other? Sure, in what fantasy world? But I wanted to know Christ’s kind of love, so I was wrestling with the question.

Third, I’d been reading Ted Dekker’s book, The Forgotten Way, and having long talks with Ted about his book and what he’d discovered on his journey about how to truly love.

And I realized that whereas in Stevenson’s story, Hyde wins in the end. With Christ, we win.

I wanted to write that story. I wanted to write about how I’d started to embrace the way of love like I’d never done before.

I can’t tell you how we win. That’s the Christian twist I put on the tale. But suffice it to say, my own life has been changed by writing this novel.

It’s my story, it’s your story, it’s the story of anyone who hates the dark half of themselves and wants to be free of that half.

You can be free, dear sister and brother. I promise, you can be free.

Subscribe to Lorehaven

“Rubart is careful to construct vivid settings and emotions, and builds in some unforeseen final twists.”
— Lorehaven Magazine

The Man He Never Was released in February 2018.

Explore the book at the Lorehaven Library.

Read our full review exclusively in the spring 2018 issue of Lorehaven Magazine!

Much of the buzz today is about the latest Avengers movie, Infinity War, which scored a big weekend success at the box office. This film is just the latest blockbuster in a line of movie representation of a character and/or story that first appeared in a comic book. So have comic books taken over? Are people more interested in superheroes with super powers than with The Federation of Planets or Middle Earth?

In some ways, as expected, movies follow the reading tastes of the culture. Comic books, with manga leading the way, had a resurgence in the 1990s, so movies made from comic books sees like a natural follow. Consequently in the first years of this new century, the number of superhero films grew:

the first decade of the 21st century brought increased interest in the genre and some of the most profitable superhero franchises, many from Marvel Enterprises. . . . 20th Century Fox’s X-Men (2000 onward) became a film franchise by its surprise hit, . . . Later, one of the largest blockbusters of all time was released with Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man (2002). With high ticket and DVD sales, several new superhero films were released every year in the 2000s, including Daredevil (2003), The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003), Hulk (2003), Catwoman (2004), Hellboy (2004), The Punisher (2004), the semi-animated Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (2004), Batman Begins (2005), Man-Thing (2005), Fantastic Four (2005), Ghost Rider (2007), Iron Man (2008), The Incredible Hulk (2008), and Watchmen (2009).

Sequels and spin-offs and remakes abound, and we aren’t finished with this decade yet. There’s no sign of the superhero craze slowing.

I’ll be honest here. I’m trying to understand the love for these stories because I have not been caught up in the craze. I didn’t read the comic books and I really don’t care if I see the movies. They all seem to blend together—superhero faces insurmountable odds with the world at risk, uses his superhero power, and saves the day. Sure, some have become more sophisticated and have explored the character in more depth, and I suppose, like anything, putting out more superhero movies means that the producers are getting better at them.

But what about the great movies made from great books? After Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter, where do we go? I mean, the effort to capture the seven Narnia stories met with little success and a good deal of criticism. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by J. K. Rowling seems to have been largely ignored, though it is a stellar movie.

The non-comic book speculative movies that seem to have found good success are animation or fairy-tale retellings.

Last year the fantasy movies included another Beauty and the Beast, another King Arthur, another Kong, another Pirates of the Caribbean. Have we no new material to draw from? Or have our tastes in movies devolved to the level of shoot-’em-up-blow-’em-up adventure? Are there no more good books or good screenplays out there? Or do audiences simply prefer superhero stories? And if the latter, why?

From where I sit, not having a superhero reading history, only going to some of the movies on a hit-and-miss basis, and forgetting which ones I’ve seen because they simply don’t make a big impression on me, I have to wonder if people like these movies primarily because they do NOT say anything particular about society (and therefore are not in danger of offending anyone), other than that the world needs to be saved and only superpowers can provide the secret to overcome insurmountable problems, usually stemming from someone who is greedy or power hungry or cruel or vengeful—usually a mix of those.

Am I being too simplistic in my summation of superhero movies? Perhaps, but the number of them does have me wondering where speculative fiction is going. I tend to think that movies drive books today as much as reading drives movies. So I expect that some superhero movies will result in an uptick of superhero type books or anime or comic books.

Will Christian speculative fiction follow?

From my limited perspective I run across more supernatural stories than I would think the market could sustain. I mean, how many stories about angels and demons are we open to? Or are angels the Christian version of superheroes (which is a sad and dangerous thought, in my opinion)?

So where do you think speculative fiction will go from here, in print and on the screen? Do you think superhero stories have more substance to them than what I see? Why are they so popular? I’m looking forward to hearing your perspective.

For years, we’ve heard about the lack of parents in young adult fantasy, and I just saw another headline last week. Why must so many YA heroes be orphans or disconnected from their parents? Why can’t authors give readers illustrations of loving families? Now that I’m both a parent and an author of YA fantasy, I have a new perspective on the issue.

It’s really as simple (and as challenging) as this: loving, involved parents wouldn’t allow their children to undertake the kind of risks or suffer through the difficult situations these protagonists experience.

I’m going to be honest here. No matter how noble the cause might be, whether he’s the “chosen one” or not, regardless of how much it might contribute toward him becoming a courageous and independent adult, if my son wanted to set out on a quest to save the world or oppose a corrupt government, would I let him go? Absolutely not. At least not alone, and let’s face it—having his or her parents along would significantly undermine the teenager’s role in any story geared toward YA readers.

I also think there’s a secondary force at work. On average (I apologize for the necessity of a broad generalization), a young person growing up without parents or the stability of an “ordinary” family life will likely have a more complex, and therefore more interesting, coming-of-age journey. All teenagers need to strike out on their own, to some extent, to cross the threshold into adulthood. But those who didn’t know their parents, or who for whatever reason never felt a strong sense of self within their childhood home, tend to require more meaningful opportunities to prove themselves in order to gain a sense of identity and appreciate their place in the world.

Does this mean that young adult protagonists must resign themselves to their fates as orphans? To an extent, yes. There’s nothing like putting together the pieces of a young hero’s mysterious heritage to help a character find a new sense of self, and authors will continue to be attracted to that kind of storyline. But in a world where divisions become more pronounced every day, technology puts an increasingly palpable barrier between human connections, and safety restrictions are at a maximum, modern teenagers have plenty of reasons to need to branch out and find their own self-worth, even from the security of a stable home environment.

And if authors approach the challenge creatively, there are a number of ways to give teen characters a loving family life while still sending them on an unsupervised adventure. The most obvious is to create a necessary separation between the character and his or her family. This can take the form of boarding school, like in the Sentinel trilogy by Jamie Foley; summer camp, as Amy C. Blake used in The Trojan Horse Traitor; or an institution put in place by the government, such as The Hunger Games. In my novel, Common, the main character is separated from her ma when she is banished from the kingdom and her mother can’t accompany her due to poor health. In The Rose and the Wand by E.J. Kitchens, a curse from a magic mirror transports the main character away from her family, forcing her to find her way back. The possibilities are endless!

But there are other alternatives, as well. In Spark by J.M. Hackman and The Tethered World by Heather L.L. Fitzgerald, each heroine embarks on her quest in order to save a parent in danger. Or the parents could be fighting for the same cause as the teen protagonist but in a different way, as illustrated by the Weasley family in the Harry Potter series.

So here’s to authors who manage to give their characters warm family environments, while also finagling enough independence to allow them to go on an adventure worthy of immortalization in a book! But let’s also cut some slack to the authors who produce the orphans of the literary world. In the end, what we all want most for our characters is a great story, which often means depriving them of many of our most cherished comforts in life—safety, freedom, or even parents—in order to achieve it.

An avid reader practically since birth, Laurie Lucking discovered her passion for writing after leaving her career as an attorney to become a stay-at-home mom. When she gets a break from playing superheroes and driving windup cars, she writes young adult fantasy with a strong thread of fairy tale romance. Her debut novel, Common, released in February from Love2ReadLove2Write Publishing, and her short story, “Threshold,” was published in a Fellowship of Fantasy anthology titled Mythical Doorways. Laurie is the Secretary of her local ACFW chapter and a co-founder of Lands Uncharted, a blog for fans of clean young adult speculative fiction. A Midwestern girl through and through, she currently lives in Minnesota with her husband and two young sons. Find out more by visiting Laurie’s social media sites:

Website
Blog
Amazon
Readers’ Group
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
Goodreads
Pinterest