Even though he isn’t a Christian, one of the writers who influenced me was Stephen Donaldson, author of the Thomas Covenant chronicles. Years ago I read an article of his entitled “Epic Fantasy In The Modern World” that helped me understand the point and purpose of fantasy. He said

fantasy is a form of fiction in which the internal crises or conflicts or processes of the characters are dramatized as if they were external individuals or events. Crudely stated, this means that in fantasy the characters meet themselves – or parts of themselves, their own needs/problems/exigencies – as actors on the stage of the story, and so the internal struggle to deal with those needs/problems/exigencies is played out as an external struggle in the action of the story.

A somewhat oversimplified way to make the same point is by comparing fantasy to realistic, mainstream fiction. In realistic fiction, the characters are expressions of their world, whereas in fantasy the world is an expressions of the characters. Even if you argue that realistic fiction is about the characters, and that the world they live in is just one tool to express them, it remains true that the details which make up their world come from a recognized body of reality—tables, chairs, jobs, stresses which we all acknowledge as being external and real, forceful on their own terms. In fantasy, however, the ultimate justification for all the external details arises from the characters themselves. The characters confer reality on their surroundings.

I suspect science fiction and horror (and all the permutations of these genres) is closer to fantasy than to “realistic fiction,” though I could be wrong about that. But for the sake of this post, I’m more interested in the idea that the speculative genre is part of delving into the character—understanding his fears and weaknesses and hopes and strengths and goals. The imaginative physical world takes on more significance because it reveals not just the world, but the character.

The question I have is this: do Christians write the story of one character, or the story of Humankind?

We know all have sinned, all are sinners. We know all need a Savior. We know Christ loves the world and that He gave His life for sinners. Because those particulars are shared experiences, I wonder if Christians who write Christian stories—speculative or realistic—might write a story that seems generic.

Not all Christians sin in the same way. Not all people sin in the same way. Not all people who hear the gospel believe they need a Savior and surrender their lives to the One who sacrificed for them. Not all people have the same questions about spiritual issues. Some struggle with morality, some with whether or not God exists, or if He does, why He allows pain and suffering.

Christians who want their readers to encounter spiritual truth in their fiction may assume that the more general they make their story, the more people they’ll include, but in reality, the opposite is true. When we write about the human experience, the particulars a person goes through touch our hearts, not the generalities.

I love hearing Christian testimonies. My church used to have each person tell about how they came to faith in Jesus Christ as part of the baptismal service. It never got old. At times I would tear up. Why? Certainly not because they said something general. No. The stories that stuck and were memorable or touching were those that were unique to them. Like the couple who would pass our church week after week on their way to play golf on Sunday morning. They saw lines of cars and people pouring into this church building, and they couldn’t help but be curious. Why would people choose to go to church instead of sleep in or play golf? So they visited our church and in the course of time, they came to know and accept Jesus as their Savior.

“The course of time” is the generic part of the story. Their unique way of coming to our church for the first time, is the particular part that made it memorable.

Does that mean others will likely not be able to relate because their circumstances are too different? Not at all. The miraculous and the amazing is a reflection on God and something all of us can understand and appreciate. When I hear of someone coming to Christ because of the witness of little old Dutch lady in a Nazi concentration camp, or of an orphan in India becoming a believer because of a stubborn, tough minded maiden lady, or of an entire people group in the Amazon jungle turning to Christ because of the testimony of two widows of the men they murdered, I don’t think the stories have nothing to do with me or nothing to say to me.

Instead, I see the courage, kindness, selflessness, trust, and love of those who shared the good news, and I see the power of God to bring about a remarkable change in the lives of those who recognized their need for a Savior. Those stories challenge me and give me hope.

Generic stories, not so much.

All this to say, I don’t believe conversion stories are the problem in Christian fiction. Conversion has its place and can be powerful. But there’s more to the Christian life than starting it. And not everyone starts a life with Jesus Christ in the same way.

Christian speculative fiction, then, should reflect the uniqueness of the character, what her needs and struggles are. The story must first happen to and for the character before it can have any impact on the reader.

Her Dangerous Visions

by Brandon Barr

INTRODUCTION—HER DANGEROUS VISIONS

Two women, two worlds, one epic destiny…

On the world of Hearth, Nightmares crawl out of the East to devour entire villages. A fire-blooded heiress named Meluscia seeks to destroy the threat plaguing her lands and become Luminess of the Blue Mountain Realm. Though she desires the throne, her heart is divided. Forbidden intimacy tempts her at every corner. With life in a state of chaos, she soon realizes that the hard choices before her will determine the fate of her world. Can she save her kingdom, or will all of Hearth be brought to its knees at the feet of a primordial Beast?

On the world of Loam, an ancient evil threatens to conquer the portals that exist on every world, and only a young farm woman named Winter is given the power to destroy it. Gifted as a Seer by the gods and tasked with a deadly mission beyond her world, Winter must first escape the cruel farmland she was raised on, even if it could spell death for those she loves.

Song of the Worlds Saga
Book 1 – Her Dangerous Visions
Book 2 – The Bridge Beyond Her World
Book 3 – Her Father’s Fugitive Throne
Prequel – Ella Dethroned (free download at his site.)

HER DANGEROUS VISIONS — EXCERPT
Chapter 1

AVEN

Aven glared at his twin sister. Why did she insist her visions remain a secret?

Winter was seated beside him at the table, opposite their parents. She was hunched over a bowl of dark amber broth, eating contentedly, as if the evening were any other.

Usually her revelations were insignificant, random—birds making a nest above a neighbor’s hovel, the promise of coming rain, Father grabbing Mother’s backside behind the sape vines—but Winter’s visions had turned dark again. She told him of little yellow ants coming up from the baseboards of a white plaster wall. The ants, she said, were hungry and had caught the scent of blood. That was strange. The farm hovels in the valley were underground with only rock and dirt for walls and floor. The ominous image was the second one that week, but not the worst of the two. Darker was the vision of dead bodies she had five days earlier.

Winter put the bowl down and hummed a short, satisfied melody. Her gaze lifted to meet Aven’s. Her lips held straight while she tried to reassure him with her eyes.

Winter’s hand found his under the table and her fingers tapped out a silent language, one they had created as children to keep secrets. “Stop. You may bring it to pass.”

Aven stared at his soup. It was the dreaded phrase she used to paralyze him.

In four days, their family would be running for their lives, and she wanted him to keep her gruesome vision silent? What if her vision was a warning, but they did nothing? Their escape and the images Winter saw in the eye of her mind had to be connected. The one thing that held his mouth shut was her logic. As twisted as it seemed to him, it felt possible.

For good or for bad, to tell is to change the future. By telling, we may bring it to pass.

Those words were a noose around his neck.

Aven’s father pushed away from the table, and the grinding of the chair legs chased away Aven’s dark thoughts. “We have nothing to fear but fear,” said Father. “A few more days of this and then we’ll be gone. The Baron’s watchers haven’t caught wind of anything. Bike still hasn’t the slightest suspicion. Like I said, nothing to fear. We’ll all get our appetites back again.”

“Winter never lost hers, said Aven.

His sister smirked. “You’re only nervous because you’re seeing Harvest tonight.”

He bent a withering eyebrow at his sister and harshly tapped out, “Mouth shut. You’ll feel the same one day.”

“Until the I get to hound you. Practice kissing your hand today?”

Thinking of Harvest added one anxiety atop another. When it came to Harvest, it wasn’t fear that pressed upon him, but the weight of knowing she was a more worthy girl than he deserved. What did he have to offer other than his devotion? She seemed happy to be matched with him, as if his faithfulness was enough, but he wanted to give her more. He felt like a brook beside a powerful river. She was mature, and that only served to make her beauty all the more radiant to jim.

And tonight—tonight was special. It was the third day of nuptials, and he’d clumsily transgressed them the day before?

“Twelve more days until you’re wedded,” said Mother rising rom her chair. She stood beside Father. The stress lines were gone from her face. “That means tonight is First Kiss.”

Aven nodded with a stiff smile.

“She was my first choice,” continued his mother, and Aven knew by her tone she was about to say what she always said as a wistful smile pinched her cheeks. “She is a hard worker. Runs double shifts when her mother is sick, and is just as productive in the field as the best pickers in our plot. I never hear her complain. Just like her parents. And she’s god-touched in beauty. Her father wanted you or no one. That’s what he told me.”

Winter smirked at Ave and scooped up her soup bowl. “It sounds like Father’s going to have a hard time finding me a mate to match Aven’s.”

Father winked at her, then took Mother’s hand. “We can talk of weddings and matchings tomorrow.”

Aven’s parents ascended the ladder to ground level. The large hatch that led outside was embedded at the foot of the old bulge oak. The massive root structure covered the ceiling of the main room. Ornate, meandering patterns curled and stretched down along the walls and spread throughout the small sleeping spaces in the hovel. The roots of the bulge oaks drank in the rain and kept their home dry and, underground, the heat of the summer was kept at bay and the cold of winter lost its sting. The farm hovels were not large, but they were cozy, comfortable.

His mother looked back down through the opening. “You sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“I want to walk alone,” said Aven.

The moment the hatch closed, Winter slipped into her room.

Aven followed after her with his thoughts churning. Harvest’s parents were hosting the meeting tonight. A member of the Erdu had passed information to Sky, Harvest’s mother. The Erdu were the key to surviving. They knew the forest. They knew how to elude the hired trackers that were sure to pursue them. The Baron maintained his power only if he held a grip of fear over the farmers.

– – – – –

AUTHOR BIO

Brandon Barr is an American author living in Southern California. He writes in the genres of science fiction and fantasy and often combines the two, preferring stories where the science is soft, the fantastic is vivid, and the flesh and soul characters are front and center.

The Song of the Worlds Saga is his breakout, genre-blending science-fantasy drama set in a vast fantasy universe where elements of science fiction are dominated by gods and monsters, visions and gifts. For updates on new releases, promos, freebies and giveaways, subscribe to his mailing list and connect with him at www.brandonbarr.com

In his words: “I grew up reading an eclectic mix of Michael Crichton, Ray Bradbury, and Orson Scott Card. Crichton taught me how to write twisted plots and gave me a taste for suspense and goosebumps. Bradbury taught me the beauty of language and that prose can be gorgeous without turning purple. Card showed me the heart and longings of real characters, and turned my spirit toward fiction that is deep, gritty, and unafraid to dig into the depths of the human soul.

That mix makes up most of the speculative fiction I write.”

EDITOR’S NOTE: Brandon has been battling leukemia for the last several years. I know he and his family would appreciate your prayers.

Christian romance. Christian fantasy fans might speak this term in the same nervous tone as we say “big oil.” Or “the [opposite political side] media.” Or “the dark lord Sauron.”

Of course, in the world of non-Christian fiction, fantasy¹ rules, and can get along as friendly royalty with the pink-and-purple-jacketed neighbors in the shelves next door. But that’s not so in the Christian fiction planet, where apparently people read far more books than average Americans, but mostly romance:

The top Christian fiction genres reported by surveyed readers were historical fiction (66 percent), romance (52 percent), contemporary (51 percent), romantic suspense (50 percent), suspense/thriller/legal thriller (47 percent) and mystery/espionage (45 percent), which also reveals that many Christian fiction readers read more than one genre.²

Alas, Christian fantasy/sci-fi aren’t even on that list. I could not find any newer surveys to indicate whether Christian readers’ preferences had changed since the first half of 2015. Meanwhile, an earlier Romance Writers of America suggested Christian romance alone makes almost one-fifth of the total romance fiction market:

Print: romantic suspense (53%); contemporary romance (41%); historical romance (34%); erotic romance (33%); New Adult (26%); paranormal romance (19%); Young Adult romance (18%); and Christian romance (17%).

And if you’ve recently visited a Christian bookstore, or the “inspirational” section of a regular bookstore, you can verify this anecdotally. Romance/historical fiction absolutely dominates (among them Amish fiction, for some of us akin to the Mouth of Sauron).

At this point, some Christians-who-are-fantasy fans are ready to jump ship. Well, forget the “Christian market,” with all its limits on content. I’ll find fantastical stories in the wider world.

This solution makes a lot of sense. However, as I’ve suggested here and here, this response ignores the facts that 1) Christians still need their own subcultures, and 2) general markets will have their own limits on content. For example, they will increasingly restrict any stories that challenge favored religious notions within progressivism and sexualityism.

Whether or not we jump ship on “Christian fiction,” here I prefer to ask: why does Christian romance keep easily defeating Christian fantasy, sci-fi, and other speculative stories?

Here’s my early take at an answer.

1. A reader’s ideal of Paradise influences his or her story preferences.

The deepest longings of a person’s heart—this person’s dreams of a literally perfect world in which sin is gone and all is now well—will motivate his or her favorite kinds of stories.

For example, if you respect physical strength and honor as a means to justice, you may more likely enjoy thoughtful yet action-packed superhero movies. But if you have had negative experiences with these things, you may identify more with slower, nuanced, art-house kinds of movies in which lack of resolution, or the art itself, are the prime strength.

From what I’ve seen, this ideal of “paradise” also affects a person’s choice of nonfiction.

If your ideal of paradise is more like a cozy home, you may enjoy those kinds of devotionals. But if your ideal of paradise is more like a pulpit, maybe with you behind it, you may enjoy thicker works about biblical doctrines. (I want my vision of paradise to have both cozy homes and cool preaching pulpits, so here’s hoping my nonfiction tastes will match.)

2. If your ideal Paradise is love and family, you’ll likely prefer romance.

What are the other nicknames for “Christian fiction”? That is, besides “inspirational”?

You may think of the phrase “family friendly.” Somehow this has become synonymous with an entire faith that has been held not only by families but by single people for centuries.

American churches, ministries, evangelical industries thrive on the family, which is formed outward from the heart of romance: the God-ordained institution of a man and woman who join together to reflect the union of Christ and his Church (Ephesians 5).

Which means there’s a biblical truth here. Romance is at the heart of God’s promised paradise, which comes at the uniting of New Heaven with New Earth (Revelation 21).

And yet, what happens if a person idealizes human romance itself as a kind of paradise? What happens when such a reader quietly and subtly suspects that the perfect story, with the near-perfect romantic partner, leading to a near-perfect family—not void of struggle but with just the right amount of drama and tension—would bring absolute happiness?

Naturally, such a Christian reader will seek reflections of this ideal paradise in her reading choices. Naturally, she’ll prefer Christian romantic fiction over other stories.

3. If your ideal Paradise is a fantastical world, you’ll likely prefer fantasy.

However, what if you picture your ideal paradise not only as a perfect relationship but a fantastic world—again, not void of struggles but with appropriate conflict and dramatic tension? More likely, then, you will prefer fantastical fiction, either a traditional fantasy with magic and all, or a science-fiction universe, or a paranormal thriller or horror story.

In any case, you aren’t necessarily opposed to romantic relationships. That would be silly. Especially when some of the best fantastical-world stories also portray such relationships.

But you also don’t consider that such a relationship itself is the sum total of the paradise.

Christian fantasy > Christian romance?

One wouldn’t end here with anything like a condemnation of Christian romance or its fans. That would be sick legalism. Again, romance is God’s creation! It points back to the union of Adam and Eve (Genesis 2),and forward to the union of Christ and His Church (Ephesians 5).

However, Christians believe romantic relationships will not always continue as they are now. Some believe this means a total abolition of even good human marriages, based on Jesus’s words in Matthew 22:23-33. Even if this isn’t what He meant, we can be confident that Jesus refers to some adjustment to human marriage, which may be fulfilled in eternity.

In either case, romantic relationships are a subset, not the sum total, of that future world.

Whereas the Bible’s literal and ideal image of paradise—a made-new world of wonder, of good conquering evil, and  miracles—is closer to the themes explored in fantastical stories.

Why, then, don’t more Christians at least enjoy romance fiction and fantasy fiction equally?

Maybe it’s because most readers haven’t yet enjoyed this more biblical picture of paradise.

I’ve been re-reading a book that I enjoyed in my teen years. Its title is Black Holes by French physicist and astronomer J.P. Luminet (an appropriate surname for someone who studies the stars). It is a semi-technical look at the incredible forces that govern the celestial bodies and a fascinating journey into the barely-understood terrors of black holes. FYI, I wasn’t a total science geek back then, but for some reason, theoretical physics really revved my engine. I do have to take a moment to boast: after reading a book by the famous Dr. Michio Kaku, I sent him an email with my thoughts. He promptly responded, saying that he wanted to interview me for his radio show. He called my house *twice* to speak to me. I stuttered and stammered like an idiot, and I don’t know if he broadcast the interview, but how many kids can say they’ve received a personal phone call from Dr. Kaku?

But I digress. As I’m reading this book on black holes, I am staggered by the genius of mankind to put these pieces together. I go outside and I look at the sky, and I see a vast expanse with flickering points of light. How incredible is it to think that throughout the centuries, humanity has been unlocking the mysteries of that expanse and has been able to come to the realization that there are invisible spheres of dead star matter that are so dense, that light is unable to escape from them? That sounds like sheer insanity, but math does not lie, and while we have never directly observed a black hole (an impossibility because it’s totally black), their effects are now very apparent. Astronomers and physicists are like interstellar forensic detectives, going over evidence and piecing together the puzzle.

Science fiction is becoming more ambitious as the secrets of the universe are uncovered. Going to the moon is so last century. Serious efforts are now underway for exploration and even colonization of Mars, and Europa remains a consistent possibility of extraterrestrial biology (and was the backdrop for an excellent movie). There is admittedly bizarre talk of “alien megastructures” and cinematic wormhole travel has progressed from the trippiness of 2001: A Space Odyssey to the moderately scientific space tunnels of Interstellar. We are still bound to this decaying planet but our minds and imaginations sail past the galaxies in ways that seem almost tangibly real.

This is just a fraction of the awesomeness of the human mind, and much of it has come within the last one hundred years. Yet despite it all, I frequently return to 1 Corinthians 1:25: “For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength” (NIV). Think about what that means. The wisdom of man is far from foolish. Quantum mechanics, black holes, string theory, multiple dimensions – that’s all serious stuff. But this verse tells us that in essence, these thoughts at the pinnacle of human possibility are lower than God’s silliness. Our greatest wisdom is beneath God’s mere foolishness. I can’t even comprehend that. The mysteries of the universe are absolutely mind-blowing. The philosophers of yore have constructed mental entanglements that are enough to drive someone into madness. We have plumbed the depths of atomic minutae. In my frail estimation, I imagine someone like Einstein or Rosenberg having a chat with God and making Him nod in startled amusement, like a father whose son blurts out an inscrutable philosophical conundrum.

Yet this verse, and many like it, tell us that God’s ways and thoughts are so far beyond ours, it’s like the distance from the heavens to the earth (Is. 55:8-9). Einstein’s theory of Special Relativity shows that if there are two particles racing together, and one is going the speed of light and the other is moving at 99.99% the speed of light, the first particle will zip ahead as if the second particle is standing still. This defies conventional wisdom but it is an absolute fact. And no matter how close we think we may be coming to approaching God’s thoughts, His ways leave ours in dirt as if they are mere child’s play.

The Liberty Box

by C. A. Gray

INTRODUCTION—THE LIBERTY BOX
Kate Brandeis has it all: a famous reporter at the age of twenty-four, she’s the face of the Republic of the Americas. She has a loving fiancé and all the success she could wish for. But when she learns of the death of a long-forgotten friend, her investigations unravel her perfect memories, forcing her to face the fact that she’s been living a lie.

Jackson MacNamera, trained from a young age in the art of mind control, returns to the Republic for his mother’s funeral. Within a few hours of his arrival, authorities collect Jackson and take him by force to a room ironically called The Liberty Box, where he must choose between surrendering his thoughts to the new Republic, or fleeing for his freedom.

Kate, bereaved and confused, finds her way to a cave community of refugees, where Jackson seems to offer her an escape from her grief. The two forge an uneasy bond, and in the process Jackson learns that Kate has some insight which may help the hunters in their attempt to free other citizens from the tyranny of the Potentate. Against the expressed wishes of the Council, the hunters plot a series of daring raids, attempting to prove that not only is freedom possible, but that the citizens are not too far gone to desire it. But with the odds so stacked against them, can the refugees succeed in their rescue missions right under the Potentate’s nose?

The ebook version of this novel is currently free on Kindle.

THE LIBERTY BOX — EXCERPT

Prologue: Twenty-Four Years Ago

Smoke billowed up into the sky as far as the eye could see. Calmly, Benjamin Voltolini weaved his way through the crowd, his dark hair swept back, revealing an enormous forehead. He held his head erect, and kept his expression vacant, but with a hint of amusement that he could not quite erase. He took a step back as a looter dashed in front of him with a torch, lobbing it at the vacant bank not ten feet away. Within minutes, the bank went up in flames. The other looters cheered, throwing rocks to shatter the windows, or lobbing more torches for good measure as Voltolini moved through the crowd and away from the flames.

The banks had gotten the worst of it from the start.

Voltolini had intentionally ripped his clothes and caked them in mud to blend in, so that he could steal a large container of gasoline from one of the few remaining gas stations. He paused every so often to change his grip or wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, keeping as far away from the flames as he could.

He’d left his Maserati well outside the city limits. He had a long way to go.

By the time Voltolini drove up to the fortress built into the side of the mountain, the sun dipped low behind it. Two armed guards stood by a high chain link gate, and they leveled their machine guns at him as he slowed to approach.

“Whatever happened to a simple greeting?” Voltolini muttered to himself, but raised his hands in the air behind the windshield.

One of the guards pulled some sort of device to his mouth and spoke rapidly as he jogged to Voltolini’s window.

“Identify yourself and state your business!”

“Benjamin Voltolini, Venture Capitalist.” Voltolini’s teeth gleamed in perfect rows. “Here to present to the former Congress of the United States of America the answer to all of their problems.”

“Do you know any members of the Tribunal personally? Have they summoned you?”

“I guarantee they all know me by reputation.”

“Get lost,” the guard ordered.

“Oh, I don’t think you want to do that, Sergeant”—Voltolini read the young man’s lapel—“Filbert, and I’ll tell you why. Pretty soon I will be the dictator of this country. And I never forget a favor.” After a slight hesitation, he added with a hint of a smile, “Nor a slight.”

“I tell you what, you arrogant bastard,” Sergeant Branson snarled, moving the safety off of his weapon. “I’ll give you to the count of ten, and by the end of it if your tires aren’t screaming on this pavement,” he pointed out into the wasteland, raising his gun, “I’ll give you exactly what you deserve.”

Voltolini looked Sergeant Branson up and down, as if committing him to memory. “Go on, then.”

The sergeant’s mouth fell open for a moment, unsure how to respond to this. “one!” he shouted. “Two!”

Voltolini watched him as the sergeant’s face turned various shades of red and finally puce by the time he reached number nine. Then, just as he leveled the weapon with Voltolini’s face and was about to pronounce the number ten, Voltolini punched the accelerator as hard as he could—not in reverse, toward the wasteland behind him, but toward the locked chain link gate up ahead. The other armed guard scarcely had time to leap out of the way before Voltolini plowed through. The gate itself snapped open and huge sections of the fence clattered to the ground in its wake.

He saw the commotion behind him from the rearview mirror, but didn’t slow down until he reached the courtyard, skidding to a stop just before he crushed a fountain in the shape of an eagle. The burnt rubber smell assaulted him even before he opened his car door.

He stepped out, opened his arms wide and held up his hands in a gesture of both surrender and welcome as most of what remained of the Congress filed out of the meeting hall in disbelief.

“So this is the secret lair of the last vestiges of Congress!” he declared.

AUTHOR BIO

C.A. Gray is the author of the YA Fantasy PIERCING THE VEIL trilogy, as well as the NA Dystopian series, THE LIBERTY BOX. By day, she is a Naturopathic Medical Doctor (NMD), with a primary care practice in Tucson, AZ. Additionally, she writes medical books under her real name. To learn more about her medical practice, please visit drlaurendeville.com.

She has always been captivated by the power of a good story, fictional or otherwise.

Her favorite authors include J.K. Rowling and Suzanne Collins, and she also reads an exceptional amount of non-fiction. She is particularly drawn to epic battles of good versus evil, with a strong tendency towards parable. An idealist herself, she has always been convinced that these stories have something deeply true to tell us about the human condition, and that is why we love them so much… or at least that’s why she does.

She still wants to be everything when she grows up. She’s a small business owner (her medical practice), has a podcast, used to moonlight as a college chemistry teacher (she has a degree in biochemistry, with minors in Spanish and Creative Writing), sings in her church worship band, was once a personal trainer, and would still do theater if she ever found the time. She is blessed with exceptionally supportive family and friends, and thanks God for them every single day!

To learn more about C.A. Gray, visit her online at her web site.

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One of the reasons The Lord Of The Rings was such a successful movie series was because of the advancements in technology. Orcs on screen looked sufficiently similar to the orcs of our imagination, created by the words J. R. R. Tolkien wrote. Same with wraith wrights and Nazgguls the Balrog and Gollum.

While “Christian,” Tolkien’s story came alive on the big screen because general market movies makers brought it to life. They had the financial backing and the technical expertise to do the story justice.

Walden Media and Walt Disney Pictures attempted the same thing with the Narnia stories. They weren’t as successful, but the fault lay in the way they changed the stories, not in their use of technology to create Narnia, with Timnus the Faun, Mr and Mrs. Beaver, and of course Aslan himself.

In part because of the success of these classic fantasy works, Christian fantasy—and all of Christian speculative fiction, in reality—received a boost. Books by Karen Hancock, Bryan Davis, Donita Paul, Jill Williamson, Patrick Carr, and many more have sold well and earned their authors repeat contracts with traditional publishers.

In addition, as small publishing companies such as Marcher Lord Press (now, Enclave Publishing), took advantage of digital technology and began to proliferate, more and more Christian authors made their works available through the avenue of self-publishing, better known today as indie publishing.

Realm Makers, the conference for speculative writers with a faith bent, has continued to grow and to receive more and more attention from agents and publishers, showing that speculative writers are not few and far between and that publishers realize there’s a genre out there they need to include in their catalogue. Even traditional Christian writing conferences such as Mount Hermon, the Orange County Christian Writers’ Conference, and now the new SoCal Christian Writers’ Conference are featuring continuing sessions and/or workshops for speculative writers.

In short, speculative fiction by Christians is not uncommon. Readers can find stories about dragons and wizards, about characters trying to survive in a dystopian world, about a clone who escapes the laboratory, about the people in a new fairy world, about space captains, about space aliens, about vampires, about . . . well, just about anything speculative you can imagine.

But how will these stories make it to the big screen? Will they?

So far, Christian movies are notoriously low budget. How could a Christian movie include a dragon effectively without drifting into the high rent district where the big boy movie makers play? Is it possible?

Andrew Peterson, author of the Wingfeather Saga, is making an attempt to break movies with an animated version of his story. It’s a great start, and I’m really looking forward to what the creatives he’s working with will put out, but I can’t help but wonder, will Christian speculative movies always be animated? Are they simply too expensive because of the special effects and the need to create non-human characters, that they’ll never catch on?

I don’t think there’s a question that they’d catch on with viewers. I’m pretty sure thousands of people, who have not read the books, will fall in love with the Wingfeather children and their story. They are far more lovable than Harry Potter, and the world has richness that will pull people in. Not magic per se, but power. There’s intrigue, danger, mystery, sacrifice, even redemption—somewhat akin to that which Edmund experienced in The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe, but with far more lasting consequences.

The Wingfeather animated movie put out by the group Andrew Peterson is working with, will be wonderful, but I can’t help but wonder when we’ll see a “real life” version of a Christian speculative story.

Will Space Drifters by Paul Regnier (Enclave Publishing), with all its outer space and alien planet adventures, ever make it to the big screen? Or what about Tom Pawlick’s mysterious, creepy supernatural suspense, Vanish? Or Donita Paul’s DragonKeeper Chronicles?

I could go on and on naming titles that would have movie potential but might never receive consideration because they could not be produced as low budget films. Christian movies are slowly growing up. They have improved their script and, as I saw for myself when I went to I’m Not Ashamed, they’ve improved their acting. But what about the worldbuilding? What about the special effects, what about the computer generated characters? Will we ever see Christians investing enough in movie making that they can produce a quality speculative movie?

I’ll never say never. I actually think some Christian with deep pockets and with a vision for the light Christian speculative fiction can bring to the dark world of our society, could actually invest in such a movie now. Will it happen? Maybe some day. I’m hoping that Peterson’s animated film will be the start.

I’m not holding out for the general market to pick up another fantasy, simply because none has sold well enough to convince them that the endeavor would be profitable. Which leaves the fledgling Christian movie making companies—those of the low budget films.

What’s the answer? I think writers need to keep writing quality Christian speculative fiction, readers need to buy those books, and movie goers need to clamor for more movies like The Lord Of The Rings. (“We want another one, just like the other one . . . only different!”)

What’s your take on the possibility of Christian speculative fiction finding a place in the movie industry? What books would you like to see made into a movie?

The Long Journey To Jake Palmer

by Jim Rubart

INTRODUCTION—THE LONG JOURNEY TO JAKE PALMER
What if there was a place where everything wrong in your life could be fixed?

Corporate trainer Jake Palmer coaches people to see deeper into themselves—yet he barely knows himself anymore. Recently divorced and weary of the business life, Jake reluctantly agrees to a lake-house vacation with friends, hoping to escape for ten days.

When he arrives, Jake hears the legend of Willow Lake—about a lost corridor that leads to a place where one’s deepest longings will be fulfilled.

Jake scoffs at the idea, but can’t shake a sliver of hope that the corridor is real. And when he meets a man who mutters cryptic speculations about the corridor, Jake is determined to find the path, find himself, and fix his crumbling life.

But the journey will become more treacherous with each step Jake takes.

THE LONG JOURNEY TO JAKE PALMER — EXCERPT

If Jake Palmer had only kept the mundane promise he’d made to himself, his life wouldn’t be headed down a dead-end road at the speed of light. He’d vowed there’d be no more late-night flights. No more trips stacked on top of each other. No more landings at Seattle’s Sea-Tac Airport after midnight, which pushed him to physical and emotional exhaustion. But there he’d been for the third time in eight days.

His phone rang as he pulled out of the parking garage, and Jake glanced at the time before he picked up. Twelve thirty-five a.m. Sienna should be asleep.

“What are you still doing up?”

“I miss you. I’ve hardly seen you for the past three months.”

“I know. Not fun. But Italy will be here in six short weeks. Then fourteen days of cruising where you’ll have to put up with me 24/7.”

“Maybe I should get some rest.”

Jake laughed.

“How far away are you, Adonis?” Sienna asked.

He smiled at her pet name for him. “Forty minutes.”

“Get here now. I’ll wait up.”

“And sacrifice your beauty rest?” Jake tapped on his steering wheel and grinned.

“Yes, even though it’ll make me look horrible tomorrow.”

“Impossible. You’d win every beauty contest known to man even if you stayed up for a month.”

“If I’m asleep when you get home, wake me up. Promise.”

“Absolutely.”

Sienna blew a kiss through the phone and hung up.

Jake glanced at his gas gauge as he headed up I-5. The yellow warning light glared at him, red needle on the wrong side of the empty line. Problem. Wouldn’t be good to run out before getting back to Bothell. He glanced at the exits coming up. Probably not the greatest section of Seattle to get gas this late at night, but running out here would be worse. Why hadn’t he filled up before the trip? Because his schedule was insane and there hadn’t been time.

Jake pulled off I-5 at the next exit. Quick fill and he’d be back on the asphalt river, home to Sienna before one twenty. He pulled up to the outside gas island and snatched his wallet out of his coat at the same time. As he stepped outside into the October chill, odors of pot and gas filled his nose.

As he stepped to the pump, a battered Honda Civic with peeling dark blue paint lurched into the station and stopped behind his Jeep. A young woman got out, her black hair streaked with red and purple, her denim coat marred with grime and amateur images of dragons drawn with blue and red Sharpies.

She swiped a credit card and as she pumped her gas glanced furtively past Jake at the street to his back, then at the street in front of them. She jiggled her nozzle up and down as if to try to make the gas flow faster.

“You OK?”

She flinched and glanced at Jake as if she hadn’t seen him during her scans of the street and was shocked to find someone standing nearby. “No, I’m . . . yeah, I’m fine.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, I . . . uh . . . just thinking about . . . stuff.”

Her eyes continued to dart in a quick circle, and before her gaze had made it back to the starting point, the screech of tires filled the night air. The agitation on her face turned to fear as a gray Dodge Neon with a spoiler and white racing stripes sped into the station, then skidded to a stop behind the girl’s car, brakes squealing.

She dropped the nozzle and turned to run past Jake, but a beat-up Toyota appeared in front of Jake’s jeep and she froze.

The passenger window of the Neon came down and a kid, couldn’t be more than twenty, adjusted his unneeded sunglasses and called out to her.

“Hey, sugar. We gotta talk. We’re running a business and you’re the product, see. And when the product goes missing, our clients aren’t happy. So we’re not happy. And it’s a trickle-down economy, which means you’re not going to be happy.”

The girl held out her palms as if they could keep the cars and the men inside them at bay. “I told you, I’m out of the game. You promised you’d leave me alone. You promised!”

“Don’t jam me.” The man swore, then flicked a cigarette toward the garbage can that sat between Jake’s pump and the girl’s. “Five more. That was the deal. Five. More. Don’t test me, girl.”

“No. I’m out now. Please!”

“You will be, baby. All the way out. Just five more. But right now, we gotta getcha all cleaned up. Nice and fresh, then we can start again, get it done, a week tops, then you’re free.” The man climbed out of his car and extended a completely tattooed arm toward her and wiggled his fingers. “Now come here, sugar. Now!”

Jake debated whether to move away or stay. But only a moment. He left the nozzle stuck in the gas line and eased over next to the girl, his palms raised.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The man sneered at Jake. “You looking for a party? Or to get yourself totally messed up?”

“Neither.”

“Then bounce!” The kid took a step toward Jake and swore so hard spittle flew out of his mouth.

AUTHOR BIO

James L. Rubart is 28 years old, but lives trapped inside an older man’s body. He thinks he’s still young enough to water ski like a madman and dirt bike with his two grown sons, and loves to send readers on journeys they’ll remember months after they finish one of his stories.

He’s the best-selling, Christy, Carol, INSPY, and RT Book Reviews award winning author of eight novels as well as a professional speaker. During the day he runs his marketing company which helps businesses, authors, and publishers make more coin of the realm. He lives with his amazing wife on a small lake in eastern Washington.

More at www.jameslrubart.com More at http://jameslrubart.com/ and on Facebook— https://www.facebook.com/JamesLRubart

After I finished my article inspired by The Resurrection of Gavin Stone for Christianity Today, I looked for what other web writers had to say about this independently Christian-made drama-comedy that features none other than Brett “Hail Hydra” Dalton in the starring role.

Alas, I found some familiar shallow Christian movie criticisms, which don’t do much to actually evaluate Christian movies on their own terms, or seek to improve these genres.

Some of these shallow criticisms are subtle. Others are easier to find. I spotted these six:

1. ‘This story is about happier things, so it’s unrealistic.’

Gavin Stone released a few weeks after the Martin Scorsese missionary drama Silence. Plenty of my Christian friends are Silence fans, and I can certainly see that film’s appeal.

But some film buffs seem tempted to feel that only dark, realistic, suffering-oriented stories are worth our time, while other movies that show the sunnier sides of life are less-spiritual. This view seems to reflect an assumed “high culture” vs. “low culture” divide. It also reflects a scheme proposed by C.S. Lewis’s demon Screwtape to confuse us about what is “real”:

The general rule which we have now pretty well established among them is that in all experiences which can make them happier or better only the physical facts are “Real” while the spiritual elements are “subjective”; in all experiences which can discourage or corrupt them the spiritual elements are the main reality and to ignore them is to be an escapist. […] Your patient, properly handled, will have no difficulty in regarding his emotion at the sight of human entrails as a revelation of Reality and his emotion at the sight of happy children or fair weather as mere sentiment[.]

Or you could be Brett Dalton, who does both “the sight of fair weather” and “the sight of human entrails.”

Christian movies like to show “happy children or fair weather,” sometimes far too often. (And moments of suffering are too often easily resolved.) But these things are also realistic. We don’t need to see things like “the sight of human entrails” to see what Reality truly is.

2. ‘This story is bad because it doesn’t show what I think Christianity is.’

Some reviewers seem to dismiss Christian movies because they don’t show a certain real-world or else idealistic picture of the Christian faith that the reviewer would prefer to see.

For example, AV Club’s Jesse Hassenger opined that Gavin Stone’s title character “starts helping out at a church so mega that no one goes up for communion—it’s passed around as congregants stay in their seats.” But it’s not only megachurches that pass the Lord’s Supper elements in trays. With one Methodist exception, every church I’ve attended, big and small, distributed communion this way—Missionary Alliance, Presbyterian, Baptist, and more.

Hassenger says “the movie quietly conflates [born-again Christianity] with all Christianity, just as it conflates megachurch services with all Christian worship.” But Hassenger himself concedes that Gavin Stone’s characters never say this themselves. Rather, the story simply reflects particular Christian subculture, apparently outside this writer’s experience. The story necessarily stays agnostic about, say, progressivistic strains of Christianity, or Eastern Orthodoxy. (I’m guessing Scorsese’s Silence also stays agnostic about Protestantism.)

Meanwhile, even friendly Christian critics might fault a Christian movie for something it never tried to be. A socially conscious Christian critic might suppose that a movie’s sunny exploration of a white American Christian middle-class family ought to have also exposed institutional racism, instead of limiting the criticism to what this movie sets out to do.

In either case, this criticism overlaps with the following criticism:

3. ‘This movie or genre for “the faithful” annoys me by existing.’

Some secular reviewers of Christian movies like to use the phrase “the faithful” to describe these movies’ core fanbase. I’m not sure why this phrase is so common. (I found it three times alone in Luke Thompson’s review of Gavin Stone for Forbes.)

Often the phrase connotes a dismissive attitude: “Eh, I guess this sort of thing may be well and good for Those sorts of people.” And I wonder why we see this sense of annoyance.

While waiting in line for Gavin Stone tickets, I spied the theater’s printed reminder that a specific showtime for XXX: Return of Xander Cage would be dubbed in Hindi. I thought: Well, that’s great, Hindi-speaking folks will also get to see Vin Diesel plowing motorcycles horizontally through fiery explosions, yet while hearing him in their own language.

Shouldn’t fair-minded critics feel the same way about Christian movies in general market distribution that reflect churchgoers’ enjoyments in their own language?

What about Christian critics who suspect their fellow Christians really shouldn’t have a subculture at all, but should only pursue general-market stories that appeal to everyone and are somehow utterly Christian-jargon free (unlike reality)? I’ve touched on that here.

4. ‘It’s too preachy.’

Some Christian movies really are too preachy. But even if they must preach, the sermons tend to be moralistic and are not particularly biblical. For instance, the story of War Room can’t help “preaching” that if you pray better, God will spiritually heal your family. God’s Not Dead “preaches” that if you master the right apologetics arguments, you can really whup the atheists good and become evangelicaldom’s best attempt at popular-culture celebrity.

I believe Christian movies should focus on creative storytelling anyway. They should not attempt the mission of biblical pastors—just as biblical pastors should preach the Bible and not attempt chiefly to tell stories and entertain. (Gavin Stone gets closer to this ideal.)

Unfortunately, critics may say “the story is too preachy” but really mean to say something like “the story deals with overt Christian ideas.” Before long the “it’s preachy” criticisms all sound the same, especially to some Christian movie supporters, who ignore the criticisms and go on supporting movies that falsely sermonize rather than truthfully story-tell.

5. ‘The story is not just badly made, but actually morally bad.’

Some Christian movie-criticism from good Christians can end up sounding like legalistic condemnation. After all, most Christian movie fans aren’t themselves legalists who shun cinema and movies as the work of Satan. In fact, they gave up that notion a long time ago. They are fine with movies as harmless-yet-spiritually-beneficial entertainment. So what happens if they hear “that movie is bad and you shouldn’t enjoy it”? They think: Legalism.

Critics need to affirm the goodness, truth, and beauties that are found in Christian movies, just as we would affirm the goodness, truth, and beauties in any other cultural text.

6. ‘It’s just a movie.’

Christian movie critics and supporters may malign, or excuse, a Christian movie with these words: “It’s just a movie.” But especially for movie supporters, I think I’ve heard this phrase often right alongside the sometimes hyperbolic rhetoric used to promote a film: “It’s life-changing. It could lead a revival in this nation. It will Send a Message to Hollywood.” Well, if so, wouldn’t a story with that kind of positive power also have power to work great evil?

No movie is ever “just a movie.” It reflects the ideas, motives, and creativity of its human creators. They are never “just people.” They are God’s handiwork. Their movie matters as the artistic impression of God’s image-bearers—and, like a mirror, can reflect all at once both humanity’s broken reflection and the reflection that gives us glimpses of the Creator.

We need optimists about Christian movies, and critics who will challenge our storytellers to aim higher—into deeper ideas and improved creative craft. Toward that end, Christian movie critics, let’s sharpen our own craft and show a better example to our spiritual family.

Since its release, Rogue One has been proclaimed – and not only by Disney – to be a new kind of Star Wars movie. In various elaborations on this theme, all the usual suspects line up: gritty, realistic, complex, ambiguous. Rogue One mostly lives up to its billing, though in less than exemplary fashion. I would like to examine this, not for the sake of the movie itself so much as for the larger points of complexity and ambiguity in stories.

In the moral compromises of its heroes and a gut-wrenching shot of a little girl terrified in the crossfire of battle, Rogue One finds an ugly side of war that the earlier Star Wars movies do not (though this is somewhat undermined by the relentless battles, which leave the impression that war is endlessly diverting and explosions are more desirable in a story than, say, dialogue). It even gets its hands on a genuine moral dilemma that is latent in technologically advanced warfare. In the course of the movie, the Rebel Alliance plots to assassinate the Death Star’s chief scientist.

By the way: Spoilers.

The idea of assassinating a scientist has a moral queasiness about it, but a case can be made for it. A scientist can have just as much blood on his hands as a soldier, and no one who is dedicated to creating a weapon of crushing, unheard-of power can be considered a noncombatant. Such scientists, as paid employees of a government’s war machine, are civilians only on a technicality; some of them are not even that, being formal members of the military. Why should scientists be entitled to safety while they facilitate the slaughter of millions?

And yet assassination is always a dirty business, cold, cold killing.

Rogue One raises a thorny moral question but never reflects on it. It offers the briefest, blandest justification for the assassination (basically he’s a weapons scientist who builds weapons and those kill people) and then just sort of assumes that it’s wrong. I’m not sure the filmmakers even knew they had a complex moral question. This is why Rogue One, despite reports, is no more thoughtful than the supposedly “unreflective” classic Star Wars trilogy. It is not enough that stories raise a difficult question, nor is it necessary that they answer one; to be reflective you have to, well, reflect.

Just as Rogue One is not a particularly thoughtful movie, neither is it really a complex one. Oh, there’s plenty of ambiguity, which is interesting and, yes, realistic. But ambiguity is not the same as complexity. It may even be the opposite of it, to the extent that it is simply a muddying of the waters. True complexity requires greater clarity and more distinction, and it doesn’t discard simplicity.

The plot of Rogue One carries the potential for certain moral complexities – that being on the right side does not ensure righteousness, that victims are not necessarily innocent, that war is so terrible it can degrade even heroes. That potential is never developed, partially because the movie is devoted to rushing action and not fine moral points, but also because heroes and the right side are lost in the gray. There’s too much moral ambiguity for moral complexity. Good and evil mix in strange and tragic ways, but to see that requires a distinction between white and black where they do not simply swamp together into gray.

Rogue One is a new kind of Star Wars movie, less of a space opera and more of a war film, and above all a (very competent) action movie. But it’s a mistake to assume that any story will be more reflective because it is gritter, or more complex because it is ambiguous.