Today, Paris’s famed Notre Dame cathedral is all but gone.

Starting this morning, news spread like a fire itself, about the blaze that had swallowed the 800-year-old landmark.

As of this writing, Paris’s firefighters had said they’d at least preserved the building’s main structure. Paris’s mayor also promised the city would rebuild the rest of it.

While videos live-streamed and articles updated, several of my friends remarked how they had always wanted to visit the cathedral.

Others recalled a special trip when they had seen Notre Dame. Yet they regretted they’d never see it again, or bring their children there.

I’ve never seen the cathedral myself. But I can empathize with that sense of loss (even if not on such a human-historical scale).

That strange sense of distant yet personal loss

Last summer, my wife and I learned the fate of our old vacation cabin.

We’d vacationed there as newlyweds in spring 2009. Three years later, we returned for a more traditional vacation.

Then, last year, we had scheduled a return to that area. It’s Gatlinburg, Tennessee, a nature and popular-cultural vacation spot near Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I had tried to reserve the same cabin, but it had vanished from the internet. I called the company but heard no news, other than the very true fact that owners can pull their cabins off the rental market whenever they like. So I reserved another building, which I figured would be just as decent as the first cabin had been.¹

When we arrived, we began to see the signs of the November 2016 disaster. A fire (started by vandals) had scorched the forest surrounding this tourist town. Gatlinburg itself had only barely escaped destruction.

Following directions in our memory, we finally found the site of our old cabin.

Yes, it was gone. Only stone rubble was left. Trees surrounding the cabin site still bore black scorch marks.

We felt a strange sense of loss, and also curiosity that we hadn’t even thought that “our” cabin could have been destroyed. All the cliches come true. You just don’t assume that such a disaster could happen to any place you know.

Will Notre Dame be restored?

Whether or not we’ve seen the French cathedral, maybe its presumed inevitable existence becomes as fixed in our minds as, say, the Grand Canyon. Or the moon. Or like history itself.

It’s been there long enough. Why should it ever go away?

But the existence of centuries-old historical buildings are full of interruptions. So-and-so destroyed this part during this war. This portion was rebuilt in 18-something after the earthquake. And, of course, the structure had to be restored after the terrible fire of (year).

Now for Notre Dame, that latest year is 2019.

And yet, even as I grieve the threat to Notre Dame’s priceless artwork and Gothic architecture, and the attack on history itself, I’m not sure I can agree with fears such as, “Now I’ll never get to see the cathedral.”

I think the Christian can safely add, “… In this life.” But even if people were never to rebuild Notre Dame, why presume it is gone forever?

Parisian historians might do their best to show us, in the future, what the cathedral once looked like. But only the universe’s Architect has power truly to restore the building, and anything else, right down to the exact, perfectly placed, even original molecule of wood or stone.

He can do it, but will he?

‘The glory and the honor of the nations’

Scripture promises that, for Christ’s people, eternity will be a physical, tangible planet. It will be this very Earth, renewed and restored, filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.²

The Bible doesn’t mention only one city in this New Earth (i.e., New Jerusalem). Revelation’s prophecies also promise:

And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb. By its light will the nations walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it, and its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. They will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations.³

New Jerusalem itself, New Earth’s capital, has no need for a temple. That’s because the Church, Christ’s body, has inherited the “temple” role. But what about famous churches in other cities? Places like Notre Dame’s great cathedral (regardless of whatever false teachings or sins have been associated with it before) certainly qualify as “the glory and the honor of the nations.” And there it is right in Scripture: a direct promise that “the kings of the earth . . . will bring into [the city] the glory and the honor of the nations.”

Kings will come from outside the city, from their nations, and bring into the city their national treasures.

As Heaven author Randy Alcorn remarks:

Though John doesn’t elaborate in Revelation, Isaiah is specific about what will be brought to the Holy City. He mentions the cultural products of once-pagan nations: the ships of Tarshish and the trees of Lebanon and the camels of Ephah and the gold and incense of Sheba, which will be brought in by its people “proclaiming the praise of the Lord” (Isaiah 60:6). Treasures that were once linked to idolatry and rebellion will be gathered into the city and put to God-glorifying use. Both Isaiah and Revelation indicate that the products of human culture will play an important role on the New Earth.⁴

Very possibly, this could include the future Christ-worshiping kings of France, and/or the future Christ-worshiping rulers of France. They will bring into Christ’s new earth the glory and the honor of France.

So that’s why, even as Paris and the world mourns the loss of Notre Dame, I take some encouragement in this truth.

‘No good thing is ever destroyed’

Finally, lest all this seem too theological, fantasy fans will recall how C. S. Lewis imaginatively reflected this truth at the end of The Last Battle. In these concluding moments for The Chronicles of Narnia, our heroes have been drawn into Aslan’s country. This land unites not only the true and eternal Narnia, but also several other true and eternal places:

[Lucy] looked harder and saw that it was not a cloud at all but a real land. And when she had fixed her eyes on one particular spot of it, she at once cried out, “Peter! Edmund! Come and look! Come quickly.” And they came and looked, for their eyes had also become like hers.

“Why!” exclaimed Peter. “It’s England. And that’s the house itself—Professor Kirk’s old home in the country where all our adventures began.”

“I thought that house had been destroyed,” said Edmund.

“So it was,” said the Faun. “But you are now looking at the England within England, the real England just as this is the real Narnia. And in that inner England no good thing is destroyed.”⁵

I live in this hope: that Christ will return and renew all things. And in that land no good thing is destroyed.

Maranatha.

Lacy Rhiannon, Marian Jacobs, and I have set up the Lorehaven shop in Waco this weekend.

 

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Ready for Teach Them Diligently!

A post shared by Lorehaven (@lorehavenmag) on Apr 11, 2019 at 5:14pm PDT

We’ll reopen with the exhibit hall Friday morning at 10 a.m.

When:

• Friday, April 12, 10 a.m. to 7:30 p.m.
• Saturday, April 13, 10 a.m. to 6:30 p.m.

Where: Waco Convention Center, 100 Washington Avenue, Waco, Texas

What:

• Subscribe for free to get every issue online!
• Browse or purchase print copies of the magazine.
• Grab a free bookmark, hot off presses, about discerning stories.
• Win a copy of Thomas Locke’s post-post-dystopian novel Enclave.
• Chat about fantastical fiction and learn how to find these amazing stories from Christian authors.

By now you’ve all seen that “first photo of a black hole.”¹

Of course, after that black hole photo, Lord of the Rings fans have drawn rather obvious comparisons based on color palette.

But you may not have seen this meme. Live, at the speed of internet (I saw it at the Middle-earth: Tolkien’s Legendarium page):

One of my greatest new joys is editor-in-chiefing and publishing Lorehaven magazine.

Our next event: we’re exhibiting at this weekend’s Teach Them Diligently conference in Waco, Texas.

Who: Fanservants writer Marian Jacobs, creative relations Lacy Rhiannon (my wife), and myself.

When:

• Thursday, April 11, 7 to 9 a.m.
• Friday, April 12, 10 a.m. to 7:30 p.m.
• Saturday, April 13, 10 a.m. to 6:30 p.m.

Where: Waco Convention Center, 100 Washington Avenue, Waco, Texas

What:

• Subscribe for free to get every issue online!
• Browse or purchase print copies of the magazine.
• Grab a free bookmark, hot off presses, about discerning stories.
• Win a copy of Thomas Locke’s post-post-dystopian novel Enclave.
• Chat about fantastical fiction and learn how to find these amazing stories from Christian authors.

Why:

Lorehaven serves Christian fans by finding biblical truth in fantastic stories. Book clubs, free webzines, and a web-based community offer flash reviews, articles, and news about Christian fantasy, science fiction, and other fantastical genres. Magazine print copies are available by request and at special events.

Central Texas fanservants, we hope to see you this weekend at Teach Them Diligently!

I like to advocate for Christian fiction. By name. By Christians, and for Christians.

And yes, I do this while recognizing that the label Christian fiction has a lot of silly definitions attached to it.¹

But in response, some Christian-fiction-as-label critics offer some sentimentalist views of their own.

For example, I often hear an objection that goes something like this:

If only more Christians made great art! Then we could really influence the culture for the gospel.

That’s the best version of this objection. Lesser versions of it attach generalized riders like, Then more people would believe in Jesus, or Then we could do something about people’s nasty beliefs about Christians.²

I call these objections “sentimentalist” for at least two reasons:

• It ignores the existence of existing, excellent Christian-made fiction;
• It presumes the general goodness of popular culture “kingmakers,” who chase trends and agendas like any other human.

Exhibit A: ‘Strange Planet’ cartoonist Nathan W. Pyle.

If you have gone anywhere near social media, you’ve likely seen the comics of Nathan W. Pyle. Within the past month, he’s gotten hugely popular.

Who?

He’s the artist who makes those “Strange Planet” comics. They’re the ones that feature those little blue aliens, who practice basic human things and describe them with comically cumbersome big words.

As in, alien 1 says to another, about a salad, “YOU GATHERED LEAVES”.

Then alien 2 replies, “LEAFBUCKET! IT’S SOMETHING TO INGEST”.

These comics are whimsical, genuinely funny, well-done for their medium. They’re not “evangelistic.” And they’re not propaganda. They’re simple, accessible, and they speak to the basic human condition from a position that’s at once comfortable and challenging. Each four-paneled insight lets us laugh at ourselves but not in a mean-spirited way.

Well. Turns out Nathan W. Pyle could still himself be a threat-level-A alien menace.

For this crime, many of his fans are turning against him. They’re saying things like, “Damn. I really liked your comic, too. Shame on you.”

And, “oh yikes, the cute alien comics dude is anti abortion”.

The worst headline I’ve seen actually whimpered, “The internet’s favorite new comic strip ruined by old anti-abortion tweet.”

There’s more scuttlebutt about the web.³ But so far, from what I’ve seen, Pyle hasn’t been doxxed, blocked on Twitter, fired from jobs, or persecuted by human rights commissions in the nation of Canada or the state of Colorado.

This means: Christians should not be crying “persecution!” any more than Pyle’s critics should be crying “anti-woman!”

Also, I don’t here address the question of how Christians should respond to persecution. I’m not talking about whether Christians should grant any legitimate grievances along with the criticism we hear, or try to improve the church’s witness in the world.

That’s not my point.

Rather, I’m simply pointing out that any Christian artist, no matter the label or quality of art, will face criticism. Harsh criticism. They may even face persecution, if not now, then in the future. The loudest critics, because of their religious motivation, will only regret for a moment (if that) that they must now ignore excellently done art. After that, well, belay the art and all that. We’ve a Cause to support.

That’s enough of a caution to stop self-critical Christians from saying, “If only Christians made better art, then we could . . .”

“. . . Glorify God better?” That’s really the best way to finish the sentence.

But “. . . change the world? . . . impress non-believers? . . . improve the church’s witness? . . . get more people saved”?

Such statements are just as wishful-thinking as that sappy Christian novel where the main character finally gets saved and suddenly everything in her life becomes miraculously better.

Last night my wife and I saw Shazam!

I’m pitching a longer article/review for another site. But for now, I have some brief(?) reactions.

Some may sound negative. I like this movie. But, especially compared with the previous DC films, it will take a little more work than I expected to reset my expectations (again). Such constant resetting will become more necessary for me, because DC’s movies are becoming even more director-driven. They’re sharing the same “universe” in name only.

• The film is genuinely funny in many ways. But it’s more character-driven humor than “banter,” or “trope subversion,” and such.
• I loved the cast, especially Zachary Levi as the titular World’s Mightiest Mortal.
• Yes, the story is set in the DC film universe as established in Man of Steel, Batman v Superman, Suicide Squad, Wonder Woman, Justice League, and Aquaman.
• But several of the other films, even Aquaman, have scope and grandeur that clash with Shazam!
• Earlier DC films established that civilian bystanders don’t always “hit their marks” in reacting happily to superheroes.¹ In fact, superheroes have previously polarized the world’s religions, governments, and military powers. All that’s gone here. Superheroes in town are just a bit shinier than the costumed folks in Times Square. And civilians all “hit their marks.” Civilians are either rescued by heroes or stand around applauding heroes. Honestly, it’s a little awkward and cliched.
• It’s also a bit regressive. We’ve already seen, from both Marvel and DC films, some slightly more realistic story turns about how the world would actually react to real-world superheroes.
• One hero’s strange “cameo” yields more questions that cancel out the potential for a happy-fan-moment.
• Sometimes the film’s ambition stretches at the budget. Parts of the movie look almost homemade.
• Billy’s foster brother, Freddie, exhibits an understandably juvenile “fandom” of real-world superheroes. He objects when Billy Batson, in hero form, doesn’t act as a hero should. But the question of what a hero should do, or what Shazam’s ultimate mission should be, is not explored.
• For DC fans, this Shazam does not actually inherit the “wisdom of Solomon.” The film references that superpower, then kinda forgets it.
• Parts of the film actively seemed to mock the other DC heroes. A child drops a Batman and Superman action figure to watch two other characters fight. End-credits silly animations show Shazam!‘s characters easily surpassing and mocking Batman, Wonder Woman, and The Flash. It all seemed very Teen Titans GO! I am not fond of this impulse. DC should show confidence in all its heroes.
• I loved Billy Batson’s foster family. We can rejoice to see such a positive portrayal of a loving, flawed yet normal group.
• Some moments were downright horrifying, especially with the Seven Deadly Sins. Parents, take caution.
• The film does not develop a potentially strong theme about a teen who must grow up quickly into a mature hero.
• I’d love to see more from these characters. But sequels would need to arrive in a hurry, lest the child and teen cast members age out of their roles.
• One can hope that a sequel helps Shazam grow up, not just as a character, but as a franchise.

Two days ago I wrote that “I’m curious about this upcoming live-action Joker, but I’m barely interested in all the villain stories they’re putting together at DC.”

The very next day (yesterday), Warner Bros. released the teaser for Joker.

It’s directed by Todd Phillips. And it stars Joaqin Phoenix as the titular Clown Prince of Crime, at least for this alternate origin story.

Friends and much of the internet went nuts. Wow! It looks almost like a Martin Scorsese movie. Double wow! This looks so intense!

Where’s the Bat?

I watched the teaser. And found myself a bit lost. Um, okay? I’m not exactly sure I want to see Joker, pre-makeup-and-purple-jacket, in that same dim-grungy apartment where they film all the dim-grungy indie movies and dim-grungy Netflix shows, dancing around in his loosey-whities.

Clearly I’m not the audience for this movie.

That’s because—and I’m sure I’m not alone—I enjoy superhero stories mainly for the heroes.

Sure, I prefer villains to be in-depth, passionate, devoted to their own beliefs, and often empathetic. But not for their own sake. Instead, for the sake of providing the hero a greater challenge to conquer.

Thanos? We all want to see him devoted to his religious anti-population cause, and defeated.

Lex Luthor? We want to see him absolutely sure of his self-made-made righteousness, and defeated.

Joker? Whether it’s the psycho-flippant clown prince of other adaptations, or Nolan’s origin-agnostic anarchist, I am only interested in him long enough to see him go down. Hard. At the dark-knit hands of Batman. Or Nightwing, or Robin, or heck, I’d take Alfred.

But what if Batman’s nowhere near the movie, and not even promised for a sequel?

Well, then, I find myself less interested in standalone stories about Batman’s villains than I would be reading an auto-parts manual for the Batmobile.

This is also why I couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for Suicide Squad, and remain agnostic about its James Gunn-directed sequel.

It’s also why, despite enjoying the recent Lego DC Super-Villains game as a guilty pleasure, I just can’t enjoy it as much as superhero games.

And the folks at DC can try all they like to make me care about a Harley Quinn-featuring spinoff (set back in the main DC film continuity). At my best, I’ll keep finding myself indifferent. Or at worst, I’ll assume this is an exercise in something like exploitation, both of villain angst and the worst impulses of fans. As I mentioned in my Suicide Squad review:

It seemed to grind home the exploitation, along with excuses for viewers to imagine that they, too, are just as nihilistic, “broken,” and empty-glamorous as Harley Quinn and the Joker.

But you, gentle reader, are likely interested in Joker for other reasons. Perhaps you’re a Joaqin Phoenix fan, or a DC villain fan. And I certainly allow that we can’t only have stories about only slightly flawed heroes.¹ In either case, I’d want to hear your reasons for being excited about DC’s Joker.

With that, I’m off tonight to see Shazam!—another hero I care about, and whose villains, such as Dr. Sivana or Black Adam, would interest me very little apart from Shazam.

“All my books have been widely pirated,” says a fantasy author friend of mine, R. J. Anderson.

Another friend asked how she knew this. Anderson continued:

Every time I google any of my book titles, I get a slew of links to pirate e-book sites. I also see forums where my books are being requested for download and those requests are being answered by other users who send links to them via DM. And that’s just the surface; there are way more sites that fly under the radar. Only a couple months ago I had to ask a Wattpad-type writing site to stop one of its users from uploading the entire text of [my book] to her account at the rate of one chapter a week — as though her acknowledgment in the author’s note that “I didn’t write this, I just liked the story” made it somehow legal or OK. By the time I came across it, she’d uploaded eight chapters.¹

She also shared a screenshot from author Rachel Caine, who said in this tweet:

My series books are *heavily* pirated. Real talk: Ink & Bone sold 47k copies. It’s been downloaded from *just 1* pirate site 101k times. Book 2 sold half as much but was downloaded more. By book 4 only 7k copies sold, many times that downloaded. It’s unsustainable. https://t.co/8xs8nkCwJ4

— Rachel Caine says READ WOLFHUNTER RIVER! (@rachelcaine) March 31, 2019

Needless to say—no, apparently very needful after all—this is wrong. God’s word says:

You must not steal.²

In response, I keep seeing all these excuses from e-book thieves eager to justify their violation of God’s law.³

Special pleading

But at least that way authors get more readers!

You must not steal.

Oh, but some people simply don’t have access to the e-book in their country.

You must not steal.

If I give the author credit, then that makes it okay.

You must not steal.

You’re being greedy. Everybody should share in culture.

You must not steal.

Think of the exposure—

You must not steal.

But real-life items are different from “internet” content like e-books!

You must not steal.

Reading an author’s work is a greater compliment than ignoring it.

You must not steal.

I have to spend my money on other, more important things.

You must not steal.

If I bought the book secondhand, the writer would get no money anyway.

You must not steal.

I’ve read too many bad books, so this way I can first make sure it’s good.

You must not steal.

I’m not stealing from “small” authors, only the “big names” who can afford it.

You must not steal.

To hell with your standard. I’ll do what I want.

You must not steal.

Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.⁴

Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labor, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need.⁵

Last night I saw a fandom-news headline that happily proclaimed:

Avengers: Endgame Director Confirms A Queer Superhero Is Coming To The MCU¹

I’ve seen a few of these headlines already. So, despite the fact that yesterday was April 1, I believed it. Then I resisted the urge to repeat the cliched and not entirely accurate slogan “go woke, go broke.” (I prefer, “Go woke, story broke.”)

Instead I shared the article and, admittedly, I griped:

“Endgame” indeed.

If they go through with this folderol, I will just as quickly exit the franchise fandom, at this clean breaking point, and then become the DC>Marvel partisan many already claimed I was.

Not the most mature response. And of course I got challenged, by friends, and probably rightfully so. There would have been a better way to phrase that, and certainly one that didn’t leave myself open to several charges. Such as:

1. Does “this folderol” mean, “Oh, the slightest hint of a ‘queer person,’ and you get grossed out and run away”?
2. Would you really “exit the franchise”? All of it, really? Never see another Marvel film again?
3. Joke’s on you, crusader; the DC franchise will also just follow this trend in another few years.

Comments section ensued. Thank God I have great friends. Even when they verge on “frenemy” territory.

But to make a long comments section short:

1. By “this folderol,” I don’t mean, “Ew, a wild queer character appears. Brave sir Christian boldly ran away, away, away! (It’s not very effective.)”

Rather, I’m referring to the habit of movie-makers announcing this incredible epic future casting/character event. To be fair, perhaps they don’t lead with this. But fandom/media writers lead them in this direction. Either way, they use the same breathless tones, as if the filmmakers’ special effects artists, while applying mocap headsets and suits to their performers, stumbled across the discovery of cold fusion.

And no, I don’t panic and flee at the sight of a “queer person,” or a “queer character.” That would be a plain false accusation.

Some examples from superhero or fantasy franchises I enjoy:

• The Flash has mentioned the “gay” lifestyles of some characters. I’m still watching. (Though I’ve slowed my pace. Ha, ha.)
• So has Arrow. Though it’s offered some more explicit content (kisses and such). I’m no longer watching. But not for that reason.
• Switching genres, I’ve actually really grown to appreciate some of Harry Potter creator J. K. Rowling’s interpretation of Albus Dumbledore’s history of same-sex attraction. After all, this concept serves a dual purpose.² If you’re same-sex attracted/”gay”/”queer”/or etc., you can see him as a representation of your lifestyle choices. If you’re not, or find objections with this behavior, Dumbledore just as easily becomes a magnificent portrayal of a hero who has this struggle, and yet puts it aside and even lives celibate.³ After all, Dumbledore is a flawed yet true hero. He fights for the greater good of destroying a twisted, manipulative enemy—in fact, the very man, the dark wizard, Grindelwald, who held his attraction for so long. This personal history, plus the fact that film-Gridelwald is constantly shown using his masculine charisma to influence others—men and women alike—makes this an even more fascinating story.

2. By “exit the franchise,” I mean I wouldn’t watch every film “religiously.” (Or I’d temper the overstatement.)

Honestly, I still aim to see some Marvel movies. If they make more stories about Black Panther, or Black Widow, and of course my new–old favorite, Spider-Man, or folks like Dr. Strange, then sure, I’d like to follow their adventures.

But I won’t stay “in the franchise,” as I have been. I won’t feel something like a “need” to see every single movie.

As an aside, I’m not a lifelong Marvel comics fanboy. I got on board with the original Spider-Man trilogy (2002–2007), and then the burgeoning Marvel Cinematic Universe with Iron Man (2008). It’s the movies, not the comics, that won my allegiance.

Literally, it’s culminated in a moment when I paused writing this, several times, in another effort to get the Cinemark app to actually load for a change so I could score Avengers: Endgame tickets for Thursday night, April 25. I may not have grown up reading Namor the Sub-Mariner comics. And I’ve never camped out on a sidewalk weeks in advance for Hall H. But I do at least share this level of dedication.

(Ticket quest update: I finally won. But for the small-screen only. My town’s huge “XD” screen had sold out within half an hour of the ticket announcement this morning.)

3. Sure, plenty of other movies (including the DC franchise) will follow this trend.

Yes, and in some previous cases, I’ve either pulled back from those shows, or exited them entirely (as with the show Supergirl).

I’m already less devoted to the upcoming DC films than some people think. For example, I’m curious about this upcoming live-action Joker, but I’m barely interested in all the villain stories they’re putting together at DC. Like with the X-verse, I’ll take some DC movies, and leave others.

If I feel stories are getting hijacked by religious causes, I’ll take each instance in isolation, and choose what to do with my time.

But this leads to another surprising twist in my quickfire reaction to this news.

I’m tired of restful stories getting twisted into Just More Work.

Thinking about these comments section challenges, I realized something new.

I realized that my feelings about “a queer hero in the MCU” rhymed almost exactly with my feelings about (as a whole) evangelical movies.

And in retrospect, I just felt worn out.

I felt as if yet another evangelical movie-maker had come along and said, “Now see here, we’ve made this very important movie and it’s in theaters now, so you’d better come out and support it, okay?”

I don’t mind supporting good causes. But let’s be clear: that’s work. It’s necessary and practical but it’s work.

To say nothing of the fact that it takes even more work, in the facial-muscle-wince department, to get through some evangelical movies.

And to be frank, I’m tired.

I’m tired of seeing some forms of needed recreation burst into ash.

When either evangelical or general-audience marketers push movies at me like this, I don’t feel that they’re asking me to enjoy a new and restful form of recreation. Instead, I feel like I’m being asked to Work. Again. It’s like you’ve finally escaped to vacation after six months of sixty-hour weeks at the construction site, and then someone runs up to you at the beach with a hardhat and vest and says, “You! Over there—we’re digging a new pier, and you must pour the concrete.”

I already spend a lot of time reading and writing about fantasy stories for career purposes. Because of this, I’m already slightly at risk of having the joy sucked out of these favorite stories, because it has become Work.

“Why should a man be scorned, if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if, when he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls? The world outside has not become less real because the prisoner cannot see it. In using Escape in this way the critics have chosen the wrong word, and, what is more, they are confusing, not always by sincere error, the Escape of the Prisoner with the Flight of the Deserter.”

— J. R. R. Tolkien

So I tend to enjoy television and games and movies for the escape of it. By this I don’t mean “escapist” escape. I mean healthful, recreative, restful escape. The kind of escape J. R. R. Tolkien described as managing to break out of the temporal “reality”-prison for a change.

In this case, with Marvel and DC films, toxic fandoms are already threatening people’s enjoyment. I can ignore that fairly easily.

But what if a story’s creators effectively say, “Let’s make it more enjoyable only for other people. But not for you. Because with this marketing emphasis, we’re going to imply that you’re backward. You’re a bad person. You’re presumed immoral if you do not get on board this thing”?

When they do this, I can’t rest even when I really need to rest. Instead, I’m being pressed into dutiful service. Again.

Mind you, I really ought to be willing to engage at that level. All the time. Yes, I really should be always-on, 24/7, as a faithful Christian witness and worldview-explorer and popular-culture-engager-in-constant-training.

The spirit is willing. But the flesh is weak.

I can’t be always-on.

I can’t see every movie, climb every secular mountain, ford every Sexualityist stream.

In an overbudgeted life already, if I find that creators of a formerly restful story have chosen to twist it into Just More Work, then I may be forced to make a decision. I may be forced to decide: I’m out. I’m going to leave this formerly quiet beach and find a new one, where I can spend whatever recreational time I’m granted by grace. Then I’ll return to the workload, including all the cultural engagement I’m called to do.

It’s not about refusal to work at all, to confront false beliefs, or to understand my own mission field.

Instead, it’s about obedience to God’s command: to work six days, rest a seventh, and desperately find any other appropriate in-between Sabbath rest-times that we can. That is, until Jesus Christ returns to bring to Earth his ultimate and forever Sabbath-rest.

Here we go again with all the hype for Game of Thrones.

I haven’t seen any of this HBO fantasy drama myself. Written about it, though—and mostly negatively.

Of course, I can’t review the show, having not seen it. And I hope my earlier articles (most of them several years ago) always proceed with a tone that says, “I’m open to correction here, but here’s what I understand about this show.”

For example, by all accounts, it’s a plain fact that the show has porn in it.

Based on this, I think we should condemn the porn as (at best) inappropriate.

My friend Cap Stewart went further, and reminds us that these exploitative scenes aren’t just “awkward,” but violate the actors’ dignity. (More recently, Cap wrote this must-read series, When High Fantasy Becomes Porn Fantasy.)

So I’ve had a bit to say about this subject. But now that the show’s final season is due to debut, I keep hearing everyone getting crazy hyped.

I try not to judge. Rather, I find myself morbidly curious—and not about all these nasty, sin-compromising friends I have.

Instead, I trust my friends. I’m presuming that they already have natural temptation-resistance, or other methods, for resisting what would otherwise be the succulent allure of visual pornography.¹

But then I get more curious about what those methods are. So I propose this poll. Anonymous replies are fine! But feel free to comment below, knowing that right now, it’s me who’s trying to learn from you.

Then perhaps later, you can ask me about my strategies for dealing with sexually exploitative moments in anime . . .