Lamh Books Themes: Hope

I’d like to share a short series of blog posts about the themes I have woven, and hope to weave, into my stories. These are complex ideas I am always mulling over and seeking to discover anew in my life and relationships. Many of them are deeply connected to my faith as a Christ follower, and some are philosophical in nature. My hope is that these posts can serve as way-markers for myself and others, as my books slowly make their way from my imagination to bookshelves.

HOPE

This is going to be one of those posts where I dip into my Christian faith. But if you’ve read A Voracious Grief you might know to expect more than “christianese” from this blog post.

A critique of American Christianity I’ve heard reiterated by a variety of voices is that the doctrines of heaven and hell to which Christians cling inevitably undermine the gospel message of the American church, no matter which denominational tradition. Though times may have changed, the old adage “don’t be too heavenly minded to be of earthly good” still rings in our ears, phrased with different words. The idea that a person will burn in hell if they don’t do _____ compels many well-meaning Christians to behave in unconscionable ways. Sometimes we yell at people as they walk down a public street, or hold up an inflammatory sign, or become argumentative, or take issue when we overhear someone swear. With eternal torment at stake, the ends justify the means.

At the other end of the spectrum, because Christians hold the belief that at the end of life heaven awaits, some can foster a kind of gnostic asceticism, in which pain and pleasure both are traps to be avoided as best we can; and if we should fall into anything ‘earthly’ we have only to remind ourselves that this life will pass away and not matter in the end. With eternal bliss impending, of what use are explorations of the body, imagination for the mind, emotional intelligence, or wholeness and healing?

Not all, not even most Christians think these things overtly. But sometimes we get so used to echoing back our “christianese” to each other that we stop thinking or feeling altogether. Our decisions have been made for us. What sense is there in redoing all the work of seeking and finding answers? What if—horror of horrors!—the answers bring even more questions, and the cycle never ends? We like our tidy boxes where we can label what we’ve identified, interpreted, imparted.

We place our hope in that heaven we have come to comprehend as deliverance from hell.

But is that the Christian hope—?

“All who have this hope in [Jesus] purify themselves, just as he is pure”

“Set your hope on the grace that is to be brought to you when Jesus Christ is revealed at his coming”

“Through [Jesus] you believe in God, who raised him from the dead and glorified him, and so your faith and hope are in God. Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for each other, love one another deeply, from the heart.”

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see . . . Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God . . . make every effort to live in peace with everyone and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord . . . [for] you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, to heavenly Jerusalem. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the Judge of all, to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel. . . KEEP ON LOVING ONE ANOTHER AS BROTHERS AND SISTERS.”

“For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. It teaches us to say ‘no’ to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope—the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us all from wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good.”

“For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

Two themes emerge—Hope in Christ produces holiness and Hope in Christ pushes us in love toward other people—both of which we will enjoy more fully and experience a culmination of in heaven, and both of which are meant to be revolutionary forces of change in the here and now. But the point is not our destination at all. The Christian hope is becoming one with Christ himself. In fact, it isn’t we who ascend to heaven in the end, it is heaven which comes down to be with us.

On many occasions people ask me if my books are Christian. Probably because they know I’m a Christian so it’s a bit of an expectation; maybe because they know I’m a Christian and it seems odd that I wrote a horror novel! I often don’t know how to answer that question. Instead, I ask them to define what they mean by “a Christian book”. Because if it means they’ll expect to find certain phrases or scriptures or assumptions about the world/God/people represented in the pages of my novel, then—No, I wouldn’t call it a “Christian book”.

Being a Christian, and writing stories which are deeply personal (which draw from my Christianity), means that my books could be called Christian, in the same way I can be called such a thing. However, I hesitate to define my art that way, and sometimes I groan inwardly at the appellation being applied to myself as well! Not because I’m ashamed of Christ. Not because I’m ashamed of Christ’s church (at worst, I’m trying not to focus on my disappointment). But overwhelmingly because I am eager to exhibit the complex predicament of being a member of a large group of individuals who all claim to know something, and who oftentimes get too caught up in the knowing and forget that knowing something isn’t much of anything unless it makes you do something right. I want to say about myself (and therefore my books)—

“YES, I’m a Christian! But don’t think that means I’ll judge you, or evangelize you, or compare theology and see how much we have in common, or pressure you to feel guilt/shame/conviction/etc for being just as complex a person as I know myself to be. Don’t fear it means there are things we can’t talk about, or things I’ll insist on talking about despite it being weird. Don’t worry I’ll gossip to my Christian friends about how you need our prayers. Don’t think I’m anything like most every other Christian you may have come across. Just stick around long enough to meet me. After all, I’m genuinely curious to meet you.”

What I mean by that is . . . I love you, you beautiful image of God!

So you might read my books and not find exactly what you’d expect from a Christian artist. But I intend to converse with you through theme and metaphor about the deep truths I treasure. Themes of living well, loving others, being like Christ, and being full of the goodness earth desperately needs, and which heaven will be full of—themes like faith and hope, but most of all, love.

[1 John 3:3; 1 Peter 1:13; 1 Peter 1:21; Hebrews 11:1, 12:1-2, 14, 22-24, 13:1; Titus 2:11; 1 Corinthinas 13:12-13]