Finding our secure place in the darkness

I have held off writing about the current coronavirus pandemic, mainly because I haven’t really had a chance to formulate my thoughts much before now. Working from home (which I usually do but now there’s an extra workload), as well as helping my kids navigate online schooling, there are precious few moments of quiet in any given day. I think it is important not to simply jump on the bandwagon of making a comment without having something to say. There have also been some incredibly helpful articles out there, that I have really appreciated (as well as some scaremongering that I’ve learned to ignore).

I also know that I’m in a process of grieving – for my mum, for my dad who has not only lost his wife, but has lost all sense of community since the lockdown and is so, so lonely. It breaks my heart every time I think of him alone, surrounded by the memories of mum but with no one there to process it with. I long for him to know his maker…But that is all mixed up with a general sense of grief and loss for what is happening right now, across the world. I know there are so many who didn’t get the chance to sit next to their dying relative, as we did, and I can’t quite imagine what they are going through now. And so many who are unable to attend a family member’s funeral – how difficult not to have that closure; it seems so cruel. My heart bleeds when I see the news (so much so that I made a conscious decision not to watch it every day anymore, as I sensed my stress levels rising). 

Our world has certainly been stopped in its tracks. And, while I don’t believe God has brought the virus as judgement upon us, because God sent Jesus not to judge the world but to save all those in the world who put their faith in him* (John 3:17–18), I do believe there are lessons we are meant to learn as Christians from this time. Of course, we are meant to learn at every other time too, but this certainly seems more urgent (but also more difficult for many of us – those working around the clock in hospitals, care homes, schools and supermarkets barely have time to rest their bodies let alone nourish their spirits. But God has grace for each one of us, in our specific situations too.)

Many people have commented that they don’t want to go back to normal once this is over – indeed it has been said so many times that some are getting tired of hearing that statement. For now, I think God is calling us back to him, calling us to repent of the ‘gods’ of materialism, busyness, individualism – and anything else we’ve allowed to take his place, even in small, subtle ways. He is a jealous God, but also a loving one, and, if we take time to listen, he is calling us back, calling us closer.

I sense a need for repentance in my own life, and collectively in the Church, but I also know God is wooing us with gentle tenderness, offering comfort and hope – so that we can offer the same to those around us by pointing them to Jesus. I keep being reminded of these verses:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. (2 Corinthians 1:3–5). 

I know that this is a bewildering, difficult, painful time for so many of us, punctuated with some unexpected moments of deep joy as we see the sacrifices people are making for one another, and the rise in a collective sense of community. Let us be those that draw close to God in order to receive the comfort that we need, which may mean giving ourselves permission to rant and rail when we need to, to sit and howl at the desperate plight of so many (perhaps ourselves if we are currently battling the virus in our family or friendship groups). But let’s also give ourselves time to be reminded of the ultimate, eternal hope that we have in Christ Jesus, who: ‘For the joy that was set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God’ (Hebrews 12:2). 

We might not understand what is going on right now, and we may have myriad questions for God about the situation, but we can be reassured that Jesus is on his eternal throne, and he will never be shaken from it. That is the secure place from which we can wrestle and allow ourselves to accept the difficulties and darkness of this time – and be open to the transformation and change God may have for us in it.

*I love this quote from Phil Moore’s excellent piece on what we can learn from the message of Revelation in the upcoming May issue of Premier Christianity magazine: ‘World history is not going to end with a deadly virus or a nuclear holocaust. God’s plan for humanity will not end with a funeral, but with a wedding.’ That is a sneak preview, as I’ve been helping out with the magazine – it is packed full of helpful articles about the virus and church in this time. You can request a free copy of the magazine – wait until Monday to ensure you are getting this issue, if you would like to, but then click here. You can, of course, also sign up for a subscription…

The enduring draw of biblical fiction

Last week we heard from UK author Chris Aslan, about his experiences writing biblical fiction. It is an interesting and popular genre, and one that, while it has seen changes over the years, still draws readers around the world.

I had some other interesting comments on biblical fiction from my research for the recent article I wrote for Premier Christianity magazine (see the end of this article for more info on that), which means I’ve decided to focus on biblical fiction for another week. This gives you the chance to hear from a couple of other authors (this time from the US) about their experiences.

Historically, Christian fiction came from America and tended to focus on historical and biblical retellings. This sort of fiction was huge in the 1980s and 90s. And then Frank Peretti and Ted Dekker began producing ‘end times’ fiction, which, again, became enormously popular. More recently, Amish fiction has sat in the top spot in America for a good few decades.

Interestingly, Mesu Andrews, who writes biblical fiction, was told back in the 2000s by Christian publishers that ‘Christians don’t buy biblical fiction anymore. But there were many biblical novels published in the general market, so I began reading them – and was horrified at what was done to God’s truth. From that moment forward, my goal has been to keep truly biblical fiction alive through Christian authors’ hands. However, I’d love to see it cross over into the general market with powerful writing and complex story lines.

‘I signed a contract with Revell (a division of Baker Publishing) in 2008 soon after they acquired Jill Eileen Smith’s first biblical series, The Wives of King David. Hers was the breakthrough series that brought back a new wave of fabulous biblical fiction. Moody Publishers acquired Tessa Afshar’s Pearl in the Sand. NavPress published Tosca Lee’s Havah. 

‘A few years later, Angela Hunt returned to the genre, and Bethany House (a division of Baker Publishing) acquired Connilyn Cossette to join the ranks of top-notch authors. The floodgates of well-researched, engaging biblical novels has burst open, and readers are ravenous for it. It’s definitely an exciting time for everyone who loves God’s Word!

I generally choose stories about lesser-known female characters or try to write from a unique perspective on a familiar story. My debut novel, Love Amid the Ashes, places Jacob’s raped daughter Dinah with the Bible’s champion sufferer, Job. And my most recent release [Of Fire and Lions] explores the familiar character of Daniel through the eyes of his fictional wife. 

‘Only through intense research and a deep reverence for the truth of God’s Word do I make these story decisions, and then I offer explanations for those decisions in an Author’s Note at the end of my books. My main goal in writing biblical fiction is always to drive readers to the truth of the Bible. Fiction is a dream, but God’s truth offers real life.’

Tessa Afshar believes that the stories within the Bible hold a fascination that draws people in. She told me: ‘The people who inhabit the world of the Bible have managed to capture our hearts for thousands of years. In spite of the fact that their world is, in many ways, alien to us, their stories still captivate us. Most of these characters are flawed men and women through whom God fulfills his purposes.  In my experience, all of us struggle with various wounds. Soul wounds. Biblical stories show us how, in God’s hands, a broken person can live a healed and healing life. Our souls hunger for that truth regardless of the century we live in.’

As a reader, this is a genre that I have discovered in recent years – and I am thoroughly enjoying the books I have read by such thoughtful and innovative authors as Mesu, Tessa and Chris. If you have a particular title that you would recommend, do add a comment to this post – it would be great to help each other find good reads (and will encourage the authors too!).

If you want to read the article on Christian Fiction that appeared in November’s issue of Premier Christianity you can request a free copy here. It will be available for request until November 25.

Chris Aslan on Christian fiction

I recently got in touch with many different Christian fiction authors, as I was preparing to write an article for Premier Christianity magazine entitled ‘The changing face of Christian fiction’. There was so much great material that we didn’t have room to include, so I’ve decided to create a mini-series with comments from authors that will hopefully give you an insight into their writing journey, why they write the type of books that they do and what they think of Christian fiction in general. 

We are kicking off this mini-series with Chris Aslan, author of Alabaster, Manacle (published by Lion Fiction) and new book Mosaic. So…over to Chris:

I probably shouldn’t admit this but I don’t tend to read ‘Christian fiction’ as published by Christian publishers, because I find it usually comes from America and tends to be either right-wing fear-mongering, too twee or with a heavy-handed message to which the story is subservient. I’d much rather read Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead trilogy or some Tolstoy. In fact, one of the reasons I wrote AlabasterManacle and Mosaic (Mosaic will be published next year or early 2021) is because of my frustration with not having anything to hand that I could give to my friends who aren’t Christians that wasn’t polemic. Where were the stories? 

My favourite writer in the Christian Fiction category is probably Patricia St. John. She wrote for children but tackled some tough issues and I wish she’d written for adults as well. Because she’d lived in the Middle East for many years, she was able to bring that world alive and her characters felt convincing and true. I wanted to write stories that wove in my own experiences of living for much of my life in rural traditional Muslim cultures. 

In Alabaster, the voice of Maryam came effortlessly to me because she’s a composite of some of the spirited and enterprising weavers who came to work in the carpet workshop I set up in a small desert oasis in Uzbekistan. Women outside the home were treated with suspicion and so these women put up with a lot. I longed for them to know how valued they were by God, even if they weren’t valued by their own community. 

I didn’t write Alabaster for Christians. I wrote it for Muslims and when I hear from Muslim women who’ve felt I’ve put into words some of their story, it’s better than any award! 

I’m reluctant to call my books Christian Fiction, much less a sub-genre of that. It’s not that I’m in any way ashamed of the truths within them, but that I want them read by people who don’t know Jesus and wouldn’t read stories with religious themes. 

In fact Philip Yancey kindly read both of them and sheepishly told me that it was only two thirds of the way through Alabaster that he suddenly realised what the story was really about. This was, of course, extremely gratifying as that was my intent. 

Sometimes stories have more resonance when they don’t lay everything out on the table in the first few pages. So, I avoid referring to the books as Biblical fiction, as to do so spoils the impact of suddenly realising that this is 1st-century Palestine.

As for Biblical fiction in general, I personally think it works best when compelling stories are told in which Jesus is key to the whole thing but not necessarily centre stage. Ben Hur is a classic example. I remember sitting on floor-mats with the Uzbek family I lived with watching it on TV. They loved it and were so moved when Jesus healed lepers. It wasn’t distributed by some kind of mission society but was broadcast in a majority Muslim country on national TV. 

That’s the power of a good story, well told, that’s got the salt in it that Jesus talked about, but isn’t over-salted and unpalatable. 

I wrote Alabaster fairly quickly and met the non-fiction editor for Lion Hudson at a writers’ event. I pitched Alabaster and asked her to read the first chapter and to keep going if she wanted to, and then maybe pass it on to whoever they were about to hire as fiction commissioning editor. She was really moved by it, as was the new editor, so it was a far easier journey than I’d expected. 

My challenge hasn’t been getting published but how to get these stories into the hands of people who don’t know Jesus yet. I figured that maybe the easiest way to do this is via the hands of people who do. 

If you would like to find out more about Chris’ books please click here.

And if you want to read the article on Christian Fiction that appeared in November’s issue of Premier Christianity you can request a free copy here. This particular issue will be available for request until November 25.

Chris was born in Turkey and spent his childhood there and in war-torn Beirut. After school, Chris spent two years at sea before studying media and journalism at Leicester University. He then moved to Khiva, a desert oasis in Uzbekistan, establishing a UNESCO workshop reviving 15th-century carpet designs and embroideries, creating income for women.

After a year in the UK writing his first (non-fiction) book, A Carpet Ride to Khiva, he moved to the Pamirs in Tajikistan, training yak herders to comb their yaks for their cashmere-like down, spending three years there. Next came two years in Kyrgyzstan living in the world’s largest natural walnut forest and establishing a wood-carving workshop. Chris has recently finished rowing and studying at Oxford and is now a curate at St. Barnabas, North Finchley, and author of AlabasterManacle and Mosaic. He returns to Central Asia whenever he can and conducts tours there.