Author Profile – Lisa T. Bergren

Lisa was born in Kalispell, Montana, on March 28 and raised in Southern California (there must be a story behind that transition!) Growing up she wanted to be “A nurse. An astronaut. Indiana Jones. A teacher. A journalist. One of the Three Musketeers.” Writing, apparently, has made it possible for her to become any of these through her characters.
on Dec 29, 2016 · 1 comment

Lisa T. Bergren is the author of over thirty books, so you may wonder how it is that she needs an introduction. As it happens, Lisa is somewhat of an eclectic writer—she has books in a variety of genres: non-fiction, children’s picture books, romance, historical, suspense, YA.

I first became aware of Lisa’s work when the CSFF Blog Tour featured the first title, Begotten, in her supernatural suspense series, The Gifted, back in April 2008. The epic trilogy is set in medieval times.

More recently, however, Lisa has written two time-travel young adult series, The River of Time: Waterfall, Cascade, Torrent, Bourne & Tributary, Deluge; and River of Time California, Three Wishes and the newly released, Four Winds. Rather than falling into the science fiction category, however, these stories relate more nearly to fantasy because they take the protagonists back in time to medieval settings.

In that respect, then, Lisa is fairly new to speculative fiction and thus my thought that an introduction would be appropriate.

Lisa was born in Kalispell, Montana, on March 28 and raised in Southern California (there must be a story behind that transition!) Growing up she wanted to be “A nurse. An astronaut. Indiana Jones. A teacher. A journalist. One of the Three Musketeers.” Writing, apparently, has made it possible for her to become any of these through her characters.

After high school she went on to get a degree in English literature from the University of California at Irvine. Post graduation she became, among other things, a “ski bum” in Park City, Utah, but it was there she renewed her faith in Jesus Christ. Now she describes herself as “a disciple of Christ, desiring to walk close enough to him to be covered in the dust from his sandals.”

Currently she lives in Colorado Springs, Colorado, with her husband Tim and their three children, Olivia, Emma, and Jack.

Her daughters were the big motivation for her decision to write a YA series. For, oh so long, these girls were reluctant readers—and then the Twilight books came out. The oldest in particular took to them, full force. Lisa stayed involved, discussing the books with her daughter as she read them and taking her to the first movie. It was there, seeing all those young girls longing for suspense and romance, that Lisa first thought of writing for that audience.

Lisa is one of the few writers I know who starts with setting. She does her best research by traveling to the location of her story, and there she comes up with interesting characters and plot ideas. Her travels have taken her to Egypt, England, France, Italy. She’s gone scuba diving in the Red Sea, ridden a camel for a photo op at the Great Pyramids, and taken a ride on a gondola in Venice.

In addition to writing and travel, Lisa is a “mompreneur,” caring for her home and family, a business consultant, a freelance editor, and an occasional speaker. Formerly she worked as a publishing executive.

You can connect with Lisa (and she enjoys getting to know readers) at her web site, Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.

This post is an updated version of one that first appeared at A Christian Worldview Of Fiction.

The Nightmare Of Christmas

The idealized Western Christmas is a time of jingling bells, snow (unless you live in the South with Christmas temperatures regularly in the 50s and 60s), Christmas trees, lavishly decorated homes, presents spilling out into the hallway, and a seemingly endless barrage of Christmas parties. And of course, the stories. Rudolph, Frosty the Snowman, The Night Before Christmas, The Tin Soldier, A Christmas Carol, and many more. However, in many other countries, Christmas tales take quite a sinister turn.
on Dec 28, 2016 · 4 comments

Christmas is a celebration of the most incredible occurrence in human history, the birth of the Savior of Mankind, God Incarnate. It is also a time when myths and legends flourish. Some are tongue-in-cheek, while others are taken quite seriously.

Perhaps the most prevalent myths are those surrounding Christmas night itself. Contrary to what nativity scenes and church pageants portray, there was no stable, no inn, Mary and Joseph were not going from place to place on the night of the birth looking for somewhere to stay, and no wise men came to visit them that night. Yet the glory and magnificence of that special night shines brightly in the Biblical accounts without the modern melodrama and theatrics.

Far more mystifying are the Christmas myths from around the world, many of which fall squarely in the “horror” category. The idealized Western Christmas is a time of jingling bells, snow (unless you live in the South with Christmas temperatures regularly in the 50s and 60s), Christmas trees, lavishly decorated homes, presents spilling out into the hallway, and a seemingly endless barrage of Christmas parties. And of course, the stories. Rudolph, Frosty the Snowman, The Night Before Christmas, The Tin Soldier, A Christmas Carol, and many more. However, in many other countries, Christmas tales take quite a sinister turn.

In Italy, “Befana” is an old hag who swoops down chimneys with her broomstick, earning her the nickname “The Christmas Witch.” Instead of jolly old Santa Claus, imagine waking up to find a sooty crone placing presents under the tree. “GrĂ˝la” is an Icelandic mountain troll who is the mother of the “Yule Lads,” Iceland’s version of Santa Claus. But GrĂ˝la is not grandma baking Christmas cookies; she creeps into sleeping towns and devours children who misbehave. “Perchta” comes from Bavarian folklore and is a goddess of sorts who had a fondness for spinning (representing honest, hard work). During the Christmas season, she would seek out the local children and determine who had been working hard and minding their parents and who had not. If the children were good, they would find a silver coin next to their beds. If they had been naughty, Perchta would slit open their stomachs, remove their guts, and stuff the cavity with straw.

“Sinterklaas” is one of the most popular, and most controversial, figures of Christmas legend, because he is not just a tale that parents tell their children. There are parades and festivals in his honor in several European countries, and he is the medieval predecessor of our modern-day “Santa Claus.” The controversy stems from his little helper; instead of a pointy-eared elf, Sinterklaas is assisted by “Zwarte Piet,” or “Black Pete,” a Moor from Spain. Revelers and party-goers dress in blackface and clown costumes, and this has attracted quite a bit of scorn in recent years.

The most frequently depicted Christmas nightmare is “Krampus,” a horned, devil-like creature who is featured in frightening midnight parades and numerous horror films. He is the antithesis of Saint Nicholas, who brings torment and punishment to naughty children while Saint Nick rewards the good ones. His terrifying appearance has made him a favorite of Christmas cosplayers.

The pattern is quite obvious here: blackmail to get children to obey. If you have children, you have no doubt said something along the lines of “If you’re good, you’ll get a treat, but if you’re bad, you’ll be sorry!” Exhausted parents will do anything to get their kids to behave, but I’d rather visions of sugarplums dance in the heads of my kids rather than nightmares about monsters coming to devour them in their sleep.

Sci-fi and Fantasy Let Us Explore

Wrapping your mind around the size of the universe, and our comparatively tiny place in it, gives you a new perspective and appreciation. Science fiction and fantasy do the same thing, on a different scale.
on Dec 27, 2016 · No comments

Life has been crazy this past week. I didn’t have time to write an article, so here’s a post from the beginning of year, borrowed from my blog.

>>>>>

When was the last time you looked up at the stars? Not just glanced up, or noticed their faint appearance in passing, but actually stood outside on a dark night and turned your face to the heavens?

I’m fortunate to live outside the city. On a dark, cloudless night, the sky becomes a black sheet strewn with glittering pinpricks of light. Hundreds of them, all at unimaginable distances. Take a second to stop and picture the grand scale of the universe.

If you’ve ever been on a road trip, the drive feels like it goes on forever. Mile after mile of tedious highway. Compared to the small bubble in which we live most of our lives, the world is huge.

And yet, it’s only a lone hole in a massive pegboard, a single drop of water in a vast ocean. Wrapping your mind around the size of the universe, and our comparatively tiny place in it, gives you a new perspective and appreciation.

Science fiction and fantasy do the same thing, on a different scale.

New Worlds Await

I don’t know about you, but I love the thought of exploring distant places, of seeing new things. Science fiction and fantasy stimulate and appease that desire. It’s unlikely I’ll ever leave earth, let alone travel to another planet or beyond the confines of our solar system. Chances are, neither will you…but if the TARDIS comes calling, you MUST let me know. Deal?

Yet through stories like Star Trek, Star Wars, and Doctor Who, we can travel to the furthest reaches of the universe, going where no man has gone before, to galaxies far, far away. The ability to travel light-years away while remaining home is one of the many appeals of science fiction.

When it comes to fantasy, it’s about the world, the setting, the environment. Have you ever watched travel shows, or shows that let you glimpse a corner of the world so breathtakingly beautiful yet foreign that your eyes pop and your jaw drops, and you think, “That’s actually a real place?” (Which is one reason why the Lord of the Rings movies are incredible.)

Going to exotic locations on earth would be amazing. Even if visiting most of those places is unrealistic, fantasy provides an outlet for adventurous inclinations and the desire to travel and see new sights.

  • A quest to Mount Doom
  • A year at Hogwarts
  • A seafaring voyage to the “utter East”

Small People, Big World

Besides providing a way to let our imaginations soar beyond the boundaries of science and reality, of the here and now, sci-fi and fantasy present a bigger truth. The same truth we come face-to-face with when we gaze at the stars.

Our world, and our place in the world, is but a pebble on a mountainside. Not insignificant, but small nonetheless. It’s easy to become so caught up in our lives that we fail to see and appreciate everything happening around us. We stare down (likely at our phones) instead of lifting our gazes to scan the skies.

Which is one of the reasons I enjoy fantasy so much. Often, the characters are pushed, or dragged, outside the scope of their inwardly focused existence.

“Hello, Frodo. You’re a fine hobbit leading a simple life in your tiny corner of the tiny Shire. Here’s a ring, and a journey.”

Faster than you can say “Tom Bombadil,” Frodo’s perspective changes. He begins to look past the end of his nose, so to speak, and realizes how big the outside world is. The farther afield he travels, the more apparent this becomes.

On a massive scale, sci-fi accomplishes this even more pointedly. Spaceships, space stations, lunar outposts, travels to the far reaches of the galaxy, entire planets with civilizations and histories.

Along with the sense of exploration, sci-fi incorporates the mind-bending distances. The truly remarkable magnitude of, well, everything. Warp-speed. Flying across expanses so huge we can barely wrap our minds around them.

Perhaps, in our self-centered lifestyles, it’s good to remember we’re part of something infinitely bigger than our puny lives. A world as colorful, dangerous, diverse, and fascinating as Middle-earth lurks outside our hobbit hole.

Sci-fi and fantasy take us on journeys to exotic, impossible places, but they also remind us we’re like Doctor Who: a lone traveler in the immeasurable reaches of space and time.

As Gandalf tells Bilbo at the end of The Hobbit:

“You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all!”

What are some of your favorite places you’ve explored through sci-fi and fantasy?

Merry Christmas

For today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.
on Dec 24, 2016 · 4 comments

The Spec Faith regular contributors want to wish you a blessed Christmas.

May you enjoy rich times with your family and wonderful worship of Christ, our Savior, Redeemer, and Lord.

Now in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus, that a census be taken of all the inhabited earth. This was the first census taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. And everyone was on his way to register for the census, each to his own city. Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David, in order to register along with Mary, who was engaged to him, and was with child. While they were there, the days were completed for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased.”

When the angels had gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds began saying to one another, “Let us go straight to Bethlehem then, and see this thing that has happened which the Lord has made known to us.” So they came in a hurry and found their way to Mary and Joseph, and the baby as He lay in the manger. When they had seen this, they made known the statement which had been told them about this Child. And all who heard it wondered at the things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart. The shepherds went back, glorifying and praising God for all that they had heard and seen, just as had been told them. (Luke 2:1-20)

 

Fiction Friday: “Pearla’s First Christmas”

“Pearla’s First Christmas” is a short story, written from the point of view of one of the characters in the Angel Eyes trilogy, and is available as a free download from author Shannon Dittemore.
on Dec 23, 2016 · No comments
· Series:

“Pearla’s First Christmas”

A short story by Shannon Dittemore


INTRODUCTION
“Pearla’s First Christmas” is a short story, written from the point of view of one of the characters in the Angel Eyes trilogy, and is available as a free download from author Shannon Dittemore.

“PEARLA’S FIRST CHRISTMAS” — EXCERPT

There was nothing silent about that night.

Except perhaps for the boy’s tears. His cloak was drawn tight around his thin shoulders, over his mouth, tears soaking into the cloth. Despite the warm of the night around us, he was cold. The staff in his hand trembled as he prodded a wayward sheep, pushing it away from the outer edges of the flock.

It was the fear that shook him, weighed him down, kept him silent beside the men trading barbs in the night air. The largest of them—a thick, burly man—was relentless in his jabs toward the boy, mocking his size and his youth, poking at him with a rod.

It came in great sticky globs—the fear—through the boy’s clothing and hair. Black and thick, it rolled down his back and onto the ground, pressing its way through the grass, looking for another victim.

I stepped toward the boy, invisible to him of course, my celestial form inherently warm, a deterrent to all things evil. My toes pressed into the vein of fear leaking at his feet. It hissed, sparked, and began to curl into itself. Stifling the spread of fear is easy enough for me and doesn’t violate my orders in any way, but the fear growing in his heart . . . I wanted to stop that too.

A touch from me would ease his sorrow, quell his fear, but I’m a cherubic spy, not a Shield. My job is to observe and report, not to engage. A desperate urge welled inside my chest, working its way to my hands. I balled them into fists at my side.

“Go ahead.” A voice rang inside my head. Deep. Lovely. Kind. It was Michael, Commander of the Armies of Light. “Tonight we bring goodwill to mankind.”

We Cherubs are small, no taller than a human child. One small step brought me face-to-face with the shepherd boy. His gaze was fixed on something beyond the fields, his gray eyes brimming with tears, his lips purple from the chill of fear.

My fists loosened then, the freedom to act—a thrill rushing through my form. I’d not done it before, offered healing to a human. But as my hands pressed into his chest, as I spread my dark fingers wide, I knew Michael was right.

Tonight we bring goodwill to mankind.

The boy’s eyes widened and then fluttered, his lips releasing a sigh of respite. The fountain of fear in his chest gurgled to a stop, but when I drew my hand away, a small pool remained.

“I don’t know why he’s still afraid,” I said.

“And you likely never will,” Michael answered. There was tension in his voice, a strain I rarely heard. My wings lifted me and I turned, rising several feet so I could look him in the eye. His wings dwarfed mine. They arched high above his head, broad and downy white. He was clad in armor now, his helmet covering a head of golden hair that matched his close-cropped beard precisely. He stood with his sword in one hand, javelin in the other, his eyes on the churning heavens above us.

“They’re here,” I said, following his line of sight.

Though the earthly, Terrestrial realm was dark with night, the invisible, Celestial realm was alive with color. Oranges and yellows flooded the world around us, streaked with shimmering gold. Light was everywhere. But as we stared, far above, the heavens changed. From a distance they looked to be nothing more than flecks of pepper seasoning the sky. But they were nothing of the sort.

It was the Fallen. And they were lethal. They could not be permitted to assault Bethlehem tonight.

Michael lifted his eyes to the town in the distance. “Gabriel should be here soon. It can’t be long now.”

But as we watched, the forces of darkness began to take shape, and our hopes of the Father’s Chief Herald making it through them unscathed grew dim.

“He’ll need a guard or he’ll never get through that hoard. Stay here, little one. When Gabriel arrives, tell him my forces and I will keep darkness at bay until—”

“Until the message can be delivered,” I finished.

The message. That was our mission tonight. To see it delivered. To whom, I couldn’t say. Someone important surely. This night’s even was worthy of the grandest audience, but it wasn’t my business to know. I would wait here for Gabriel. I would obey my Commander.

Michael lifted his arms, opened his mouth, and a loud cry rang across the heavens. From the light itself emerged three thousand angels astride their warhorses. Michael’s own steed, Loyal, materialized next to us, a being of cloud and light. With his voice still ringing, Michael swung into the saddle and the two launched into the sky.

I watched as he Commander soared to the front of his forces, as they closed ranks behind him. The Celestial sky above became a sea of white feathers, wind after wing after wing, the brightness of Michael’s forces blotting out the darkness descending on this place.

I turned back to the shepherds before me. To their sheep dozing in the grass and the men exchanging tales. They knew nothing of the battle raging overhead. Nothing of the gift that even now, was being given them.

SHANNON DITTEMORE — AUTHOR BIO

Shannon Dittemore is an author of young adult fiction. She has an overactive imagination and a passion for truth. Her lifelong journey to combine the two is responsible for a stint at Portland Bible College, performances with local theater companies, and a love of all things literary. When she isn’t writing, she spends her days with her husband, Matt, imagining things unseen and chasing their two children around their home in Northern California.

ANGEL EYES was Shannon’s debut novel and the launch of a young adult supernatural trilogy. It was published in the summer of 2012 by Thomas Nelson, followed the next year by BROKEN WINGS and DARK HALO.

What The World Needs To Know About Christmas

Christmas is the ultimate Reveal! It’s the greatest ah-ha moment since time began.
on Dec 22, 2016 · No comments

Most of my articles here at Speculative Faith, even those at Christmas time, concern the intersection of speculative fiction and my belief in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. Sometimes I focus primarily on speculative fiction, but today, I’m tipping the scales the other way and writing primarily about my faith. After all, another Christmas is almost here.

A few years ago, the week before Christmas, there was a late-night police action in my neighborhood—an unruly party, perhaps, or some sort of illegal drug or gang activity or possibly individuals succumbing to anger and venting in a display of domestic violence.

Ah, it’s Christmas.

We celebrate Jesus, good news to the world because He brings peace on earth, He gives joy to all mankind. Yet so obviously, many people do not understand.

How have we Christians failed to tell the world the truth about Jesus? No, He is not a cute newborn or a religious version of Santa Claus. He is the image of the invisible God. In Him all the fullness of Deity dwells.

So what? Jesus isn’t here now.

He Himself answered this when He was talking with His disciples: first, He showed the Father, but also by going away, He made it possible for the Holy Spirit to come.

Israel had God in their midst. They had prophets who told them what God said, and priests who would make sacrifice on their behalf.

The disciples had Jesus with them, beside them, talking, teaching, living, performing miracles.

But the Church has God in us, each one. Consequently I enjoy the fellowship of God—His presence, His counsel, His conviction, comfort, truth, assurance. He holds my hand and to Him I cling. He is with me when waters overflow. He is the One in whom I will boast—not in wisdom, riches, or might.

Jesus coming in the flesh made this relationship with God possible. That’s why it’s important to celebrate Christmas. It’s the single-most pivotal event in history. Some may think Easter holds that place, but Easter is actually an extension of Christmas. Or you might think of Christmas as the beginning of Easter. Either way, there is no Easter if there is no Christmas.

Jesus, born of Mary, was God’s first step onto earth in the skin of Man. It was the beginning. Everything that night of Jesus’s birth was a shout—the great, glorious plan of redemption, worked out before the foundations of the world, was unfolding. It was being revealed to us who, through Him, would become believers in God.

Christmas is the ultimate Reveal! It’s the greatest ah-ha moment since time began.

But so many look past it or don’t get it. Perhaps too many of us believers have relied on slogans—put Christ back in Christmas, for instance. Perhaps we’ve allowed the birth events to dominate the meaning of Christmas. As important as was the virgin birth, the angelic announcement to the shepherds, the coming of the magi, the real “magic” of Christmas is this “first step” in God’s plan to rescue His creation. It’s begun. And praise God that it is so!

Maybe even go tell it on a mountain. Or in a story.

This post is a revised version of one that first appeared here in December 2012.

Christmas Is Too …

Christmas is a pagan holiday. I’ve heard this a lot, and I’ve grown ever more skeptical.
on Dec 21, 2016 · 3 comments

If you listen long enough, you will discover that Christmas is too much of many things. It is too commercial, too materialistic, too Christian, too pagan, too saccharine and nothing but an excuse for shameless capitalistic mongering. These opinions will be with us until the end of Christmas, and I have no ambitions of dislodging them. But there is one I would like to dispute.

Christmas is a pagan holiday. I’ve heard this a lot, from people who approved and people who did not, and I’ve grown ever more skeptical. The historicity is vague at best, the thinking is demonstrably sloppy at times, and I see a fundamental confusion of the past and present tenses.

The historical details of the claim are often hazy. For example: Which pagan holiday? Saturnalia? The winter solstice – and if so, whose? Because strictly speaking, the winter solstice is an astronomical event and a good number of cultures have made it a holiday. More importantly, when and where did Christmas first begin to be celebrated? What descriptions of it, or commentary on it, exist in ancient sources? Is the “Christmas is a pagan holiday” claim really just an inference from general facts?

And this leads into the thinking that is, shall we say, less than rigorous. Very little is proved by the fact that Christmas takes place at roughly the same time as Saturnalia and several European solstice holidays (not to mention Hanukkah and Sanghamitta Day!). A midwinter feast is not a terribly original idea and it is quite possible that Christmas and Saturnalia both began in the Roman Empire and were still entirely distinct. That Christmas existed in the same time periods and cultures as pagan holidays may suggest associations, but it does not prove them.

Another idea in need of debunking is the notion that anything used as a symbol by pagans is forever a “pagan symbol.” Among my favorite instances of this are the Advent wreath, supposedly pagan because it is a circle and circles are a pagan symbol for eternity, and the Christmas Tree, which reputedly has its antecedent in pagan use of evergreens as symbols of life and fertility.

Part of the fallacy in this is the evident assumption that anything pagan is by definition anti-Christian. And this assumption is false; the divide between Christian and pagan may be large but it is not total. It is further obvious, as soon as you think it through, that the circle as a symbol for eternity and the evergreen as a symbol for life aren’t derived from some intrinsically pagan belief. They are derived from the nature of the things and from the universal cast of the human mind. A circle is endless, like eternity; an evergreen tree is living green when everything else is dead brown and gray. Pagans turned them into symbols before Christians did; there were, after all, pagans before there were Christians. But that does not make the symbols false or bad.

Another part of the fallacy, and perhaps the most significant part for this discussion, is that symbols change with culture. It’s likely that pagans had, in evergreen and holly, associations that Christians do not. It’s possible that certain Christmas rituals were adapted, long ago, from customs with pagan religious meaning. And so what? Who has those associations or cares for those meanings now?

And here we reach the confused tenses. Though I’ve never seen a compelling historical case for it, perhaps Christmas was pagan. It still wouldn’t mean that Christmas is pagan. No one can imagine that, if an ancient Roman were sucked through a time portal to our modern Christmas, he would say, “Why, it’s the Saturnalia!!!” Things change, sometimes beyond recognition. Their meanings change. Consider the symbols of Christmas – whether snowflakes and reindeer and Santa, or angels and the manger and the star – and it is plain that neither Saturn nor the sun-gods have anything to do with it.

What matters is not what Christmas was centuries and millenia ago, but what it is today.

So Merry Christmas.

The Christmas Story: The First Epic Tale

Many stories, whether written from secular or Christian worldviews, point us back to the story of Christ, implicitly or explicitly, by design or by accident.
on Dec 20, 2016 · 3 comments

A bloodthirsty tyrant.

A group of “mages” from the East.

Otherworldly messengers.

A child of humble birth whose deeds would one day save the earth.

Sounds like the basic premise for three-quarters of the fantasy novels ever written. And yet, it’s anything but a fantasy.

I’m talking, of course, about the Christmas story. The first epic tale, the truth, power, and beauty of which any great tale reflects to some degree. The miraculous story of the incarnation of Christ, come from the unimaginable majesty of heaven into the sin-torn world to rescue us from the grip of the enemy.

Reflections of Truth

Decked out with all the trimmings of an epic tale, the Gospel tale—of which the Christmas story stands as the centerpiece—is the one “myth” that actually came true. In it, we glimpse familiar elements common to many imaginative stories. As Tolkien explained in his essay “On Fairy Stories”:

The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories. They contain many marvels—peculiarly artistic, beautiful, and moving: “mythical” in their perfect, self-contained significance; and among the marvels is the greatest and most complete conceivable eucatastrophe. But this story has entered History and the primary world; the desire and aspiration of sub-creation has been raised to the fulfillment of Creation. The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man’s history.

Perhaps that’s why fantasy and science fiction, which often do the best job of portraying the reality of the Christmas story, are so powerful.

Many stories, whether written from secular or Christian worldviews, point us back to the story of Christ, implicitly or explicitly, by design or by accident. As if the truth of that account from two thousand years ago is indelibly branded into our beings.

A powerful tale sticks with us long after we read the final page. And, as Lord of the Rings has shown, it lays the foundation for myriad stereotypes whose essence points back to the original.

How much more powerful can a story get than one that tells of the Son of God descending to the lowly station of man, to redeem those who deserve fiery judgment? Not only because it shines a beacon of hope into our broken lives, but because it happened. The story is as real as the screen you’re reading this on right now.

It should be no surprise then, that the archetypes we so often encounter in speculative fiction reflect the most epic story in history—whether intentionally or not.

Beneath the Surface

One of the things I appreciate about stories, particularly fantasy, is the echoes of truth sounding across their pages. At its core, fantasy deals with the battle of good vs. evil, a battle starkly manifested in the Christmas story.

No sooner was Christ born than Satan began scheming how to defeat him. (And like any respectable villain, he naively grasped after the hope that he had a chance of winning.)

The thing is, not only books by Christians capture this sense of how things are. Stories told from a secular viewpoint can contain elements that drop anchor in the harbor of truth. Parts of Wheel of Time, for example, were certainly inspired by biblical elements:

  • The final battle of Tarmon Gai’don
  • Masema the Prophet, who spreads word of the coming of the Dragon Reborn

In the middle between obvious and obscure fall books like Lord of the Rings. Tolkien didn’t pen his masterpiece with the goal of showing Christianity, yet

By Source, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=50294355

because his worldview seeped into his writing, glimpses abound:

  • Frodo bearing the heavy burden of the Ring
  • Sam’s sacrificial love and loyalty
  • Gandalf’s “resurrection”

Narnia, too, shows us pictures of the bigger reality. To the unbeliever, it’s nothing more than a good story. Christians, however, look beneath the surface, see the deeper meaning, and appreciate how the truth seamlessly blends into the story:

  • Aslan’s sacrifice
  • The redemption of Edmund and Eustace
  • Aslan appearing as a lamb in Voyage of the Dawn Treader

The Power of Stories

I’m sure we’ve all read a story at some point that dug into our hearts and left us numb with amazement. What power do they possess that causes us to become emotionally attached to people and events created in some tranquil study office or noisy Starbucks?

Their power lies chiefly in the fact that they point back to the first epic tale. The true myth. The story that matters above all else—of a babe born in Bethlehem.

Because of that first epic tale, we can appreciate the many stories around us that offer fragmented glimpses of the light, hope, and joy we celebrate during this season.

To you, what epic tale best represents the truths found in the ultimate Epic Tale?

Review: The Sword Of Six Worlds By Matt Mikalatos

Validus Smith and her best friend Alex Shields know something is seriously wrong when their substitute teacher takes the side of the class bully. When he changes into a creature with fangs and tries to attack Validus, they escape by following two new students through a hole into a different world—one in which animals talk.
on Dec 19, 2016 · No comments

Matt Mikalatos, known for his humorous quasi-autobiographical contemporary adult fantasies, Imaginary Jesus and Night of the Living Dead Christians, shifted gears three years ago, proving yet again how talented he is. Three years ago he released is a middle grade fantasy entitled The Sword of Six Worlds, Book One in the Adventures of Validus Smith series.

The Story. Validus Smith and her best friend Alex Shields know something is seriously wrong when their substitute teacher takes the side of the class bully. When he changes into a creature with fangs and tries to attack Validus, they escape by following two new students through a hole into a different world—one in which animals talk.

The “new students,” in fact, are animals–a tiger and a horse–who only took human form to bring Validus back to their world. They have been informed that she is the new paladin, and they desperately need her help in fighting the Blight which is bent on turning a series of worlds into dead planets. And so the adventure begins.

Evaluation. The Sword of Six Worlds is a delightful story. Both Validus and Alex are well painted. In their own world they are smart, obedient, polite, and survivors of the constant torture Jeremy Lane inflicts upon them with his words and his fists. In other words, they are sympathetic characters.

They aren’t perfect, and they have quirks. For example, Alex doesn’t text Validus to let her know he’s coming over, or even ring the doorbell. He tosses rocks at her window. Validus’s mother is always checking her temperature, worried she has a fever, and her dad is constantly reminding her not to lose her temper at school.

While Validus discovers she is the paladin, Alex discovers he is unique as well. They both have larger-than-life callings and they grow into their roles as events demand. They’re also fiercely loyal to one another, in spite of fears, and end up making other friends that are just as faithful.

The plot moves at a quick pace, with lots of tension. The story is not predictable, until perhaps towards the end–but then, it’s the end, so you can hardly say the story is unsurprising. As a matter of fact, I thought there were several unforeseen events.

I also like the cool fantasy elements. The talking animals worked, and Mikalatos played with them at times to give the story a bit of his humor.

The armadillo settled his monocle onto his needle nose, giving him an enormously magnified right eye. He twiddled his claws together in a nervous gesture, then motioned for the rat to climb back up with the scroll. Just as the rat reached the top, Benjamin [the tiger] cleared her throat and said, Yorrick.” The armadillo was so startled he knocked the poor rat to the ground again. The rat squeaked his displeasure and then lay on the ground, wrapped in the scroll like a toga. The armadillo slowly peeled his fingers from his eyes and peered out at Benjamin. “Ah,” he said. “You must learn not to use someone’s name without warning him.”

Better still was the Rock of Many Names and the things the rock mage could do. In all, the setting adds to the enjoyment of the story.

The plot certainly held my attention, but there were a couple places where I could see a need for improvement.

One is a situation that arose because Validus didn’t speak up. She was asked to speak up and she gave an answer, but when it became apparent she’d been misunderstood (and it should have been apparent right away), she did nothing to correct the mistake. This not-speaking-up continued for several chapters and actually led to a major plot point. Characters that don’t speak up generally irritate me, and I was feeling frustrated with Validus because a major dangerous situation could have been avoided if she’d answered the questions clearly, or at all.

The other point I thought could be strengthened was the climax. Up to that point, I had abandoned myself to the story, and it proved to be as believable as discovering a world inside a wardrobe or having tea with a Faun. I loved it. The end, however, seemed a tad rushed, which made some of the elements seem not as believable as those at the beginning.

Recommendation. I’m excited to find this wonderful story Mikalatos produced that introduces the Architect who created the passageways between worlds and who guides the paladin. It’s a delightful tale middle grade children will enjoy, whether they read the book themselves or whether an adult is reading it to them. I highly recommend The Sword of Six Worlds to parents who want a fast-paced fantasy for their middle grader. This one will hold their interest and entertain from start to finish.

Disclaimer #1: I received a review copy of this book from the publisher free of cost. Disclaimer #2: I first posted this review at A Christian Worldview of Fiction in January 2013.

– – – – –

Matt Mikalatos works for a non-profit dedicated to helping people live better, fuller lives. He has done non-profit work all over the world, and he and his family lived in Asia for several years. He currently lives in the Portland, Oregon area with his wife and three daughters.

Want to be updated about new releases from Matt? Sign up for his “irregular” email list.

You can also follow him on Twitter, Facebook, or check out his podcast or his online magazine.

Fiction Friday – The Word Changers By Ashlee Willis

Once there was a little small-town girl. She grew up two blocks away from the old, creaky public library. She spent much of her time in that library, either squirreled away in a dusky corner with a book, or loading chin-high stacks of books home to read. Usually barefoot and disheveled. Always brim-full of curiosity and awe at the secret worlds she knew she’d find between those pages.
on Dec 16, 2016 · 2 comments
· Series:

The Word Changers

by Ashlee Willis

INTRODUCTION

Escaping from the turmoil of her home, fifteen-year-old Posy finds herself at her usual haunt … the library. When she chooses an unfamiliar book from the shelf, she does not devour its words as she usually does…

Its words devour her.

Posy is pulled into the pages of a fairy tale in turmoil. Characters whisper of rebellion against their Plot. And Posy must find a lost princess whose role in the story is crucial, before her own role in the book comes to a horrible end.

With the haughty Prince Kyran as a reluctant companion, Posy ventures past the Borders of the Plot, into the depths of the treacherous Wild Land forest that lies beyond. Secrets are buried there, dangerous and deadly.

Yet the darkest secret of all is the one Posy carries within herself.

Soon it’s clear that finding the lost princess is the least of Posy’s concerns. The Author of the book must be found. His Plot must be put to rights again, his characters reminded of who they were first created to be. Only then will the True Story be written, both for Posy, and for the tale she has now become a part of.

THE WORD CHANGERS — EXCERPT

Chapter One — A Bewildering Beginning

The moment she began to fall, Posy forgot everything except her descent. She even forgot how she had come to be falling in the first place. Everything behind her grew faint and far, and everything in front of her seemed a black void. Gravity worked backward, and her racing speed slowed. Now she floated, like a dry leaf, or a page torn from a book. Gradually she felt nothing at all.

And the entire time she was falling, she could hear voices, hollow and wide-flung, pulling her back from the precipice. Posy lifted a heavy hand to swat awkwardly at her face.

“You’ve come at last, my dear,” said the voice nearest her. “And about time, too.” Posy attempted to open her eyes, only to find it difficult. Was that the brush of a feather on her brow? She groaned in frustration at the weighted feeling she couldn’t shake.

A woman’s voice came faintly from a distance. “Will it work?”

“Well, their looks are quite different, I must say.” Now a man’s deep tones.

“It was what Your Majesty wanted, if I may remind you,” the answer came smoothly. “And after all, it is much too late now to send her back.”

“Let us hope it is only for a short time,” the woman spoke again, with a slight accent of distaste. “But see. The princess begins to wake.”

Why are they speaking so strangely? Posy’s thoughts crawled sluggishly into her head. And it is almost as if they are speaking about me . . . Did someone just say . . . ‘Princess’?

Only last night—was it only last night? Posy lay in her own bed listening to the sounds of unhappiness down the hall. Crying hadn’t stopped her parents from arguing. Praying hadn’t ended their hate for each other. Fists clenched into the pillow she had pulled over her head had done no good either. Of course it hadn’t.

All the same, something deep within her had clamored and quaked for a change. Something inside had whispered that things could not remain as they were. Perhaps this was the answer. But she thought it more likely it was all a horrid mistake.

Solid arms went around her, pulling her to a sitting position. “There we go, my dear,” said a man’s voice next to her ear. “What a scare we had, didn’t we. Valnor? We thought we were going to lose our princess.”

There was no doubt about it now. Someone was calling her princess. Posy’s eyes snapped open at last. What she saw almost convinced her she was dreaming. If everything hadn’t been so real and so unbearably bright. She had not seen a place like this before. What had she been doing before all this happened? Why could she not remember?

ASHLEE WILLIS — AUTHOR BIO
Once there was a little small-town girl. She grew up two blocks away from the old, creaky public library. She spent much of her time in that library, either squirreled away in a dusky corner with a book, or loading chin-high stacks of books home to read. Usually barefoot and disheveled. Always brim-full of curiosity and awe at the secret worlds she knew she’d find between those pages.

She read and re-read and acted out the stories she read and forced her little sister to act them out, too, and . . . before long . . . she decided that simply wasn’t enough. Creating her own stories was something that, unquestionably, had to be done. And so she did. And so she still does.