Showing posts with label Storytelling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Storytelling. Show all posts

Satan and Saruman

On the way to church this past Sunday, my wife and children and I fell to talking about a number of theological subjects, one of which was the fact that Jesus is the Dragonslayer, and that this means that the decisive blow against Satan was struck at the cross (Col. 2:15).

I found it difficult to adequately explain to them that Satan was, as we might say, mortally wounded by His battle with Jesus, but still lives today, and is doing as much damage to the Church as he can. One conjures images of, say, a dying bull, still deadly in his wounded thrashings, a peril to the matador even in his death throes.

But my oldest daughter, Grace, came up with an image I like better. By way of preface, I recently finished reading The Lord of the Rings to my two oldest (Grace, 11, and William, 9). They have both become great Tolkien fans as a result, but Grace, in particular, is developing into something of a Middle-Earth scholar.

Her suggestion for understanding the current status of Satan was to compare him to Saruman, the fallen wizard: “his staff was broken, but he still had the power of his voice,” she said.

Saruman was decisively defeated by Gandalf at Orthanc, and cast from the White Council, at which time Gandalf declared, “your staff is broken.” Yet Saruman still had the power of his voice to enchant and deceive; and before the story was over, he would use that power to do great mischief and work much evil.

It is an apt image of Satan, the deceiver, the “father of lies” (John 8:44). Though impaled by Christ, he thrashes about, seeking to strike and maim and kill while he may. And he does this especially by the power of his lying voice, as he tempted Eve in the Garden long ago.

All this is clearly laid out in the Bible, of course:

“Now salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of His Christ have come, for the accuser of our brethren, who accused them before our God day and night, has been cast down…Woe to the inhabitants of the earth and the sea! For the devil has come down to you, having great wrath, because he knows that he has a short time.” (Rev. 12:10, 12).

Satan is still dangerous, yet it remains true that we are dealing with a defeated enemy. We should never take him lightly; yet we should not live in fear, either. Rather, resistance should be the keynote of our mindset (James 4:7).

When my youngest son, Nathanael, was a baby, I killed a snake outside our home (a bit too near the house for the safety of the children). After I had struck the death blow, the serpent continued to thrash about for some time, as I held Nathanael, now asleep. I was struck by the strange combination of a sleeping baby, and a dying, still dangerous serpent nearby. I don’t often write songs, but this image inspired one of the few. Here are the lyrics for Nathanael’s Lullaby:

Sleep, my child, by light of day;

Your enemy has passed away.

The serpent lies near, clove in twain;

The one who sought you has been slain.


Sleep, my child, in restful peace;

The serpent’s writhing soon shall cease.

His thrashing’s but a last resort,

For now he knows his time is short.



Though moving still, his eyes grow dim—

No longer need for fear of him;

Though mouth is opened, fangs are bared,

You needn’t ever more be scared.



Sleep, my child, by light of day;

Your enemy has passed away.

The serpent lies near, clove in twain;

The one who sought you has been slain.

First Reader Review

The first reader review of The Nicholas Book has been posted on Amazon. Here 'tis: "This book is an amazing and unique telling of the legend of St Nicholas. It weaves together a rich and deep history, a captivating narrative, and a positively magical message. If you've ever wondered how to explain Santa Claus to yourself or your children this book is for you."

You can still get The Nicholas Book for only $0.99 to read to your family. This book was written to be read together as a family: parents and children; and it was written to grow with children as they get older. If I have been at all successful in what I was trying to achieve, kids will get more from the book the older they get, especially if it is read to them each year, which is what the book was designed for. To read more about the book, click here.

So what do you teach your children about Santa Claus? 

Director’s Commentary

Here’s a dilemma I've pondered quite a bit over the years: should parents just let good books and stories work their magic on kids, without commentary from Mom and Dad? Or should they pepper stories with pearls of parental wisdom? 

Let’s put it in terms many Christian parents will understand: should you point out to your kids that Aslan is really Christ?

There are two schools of thought (and why is it always two? One of Life’s Great Mysteries): first, there’s the Don’t Spoil It By Talking About It school. These folks think that the story can do its work quite well, thank you, without parental involvement. Indeed, if parents point out things about the story that the kids wouldn’t have picked up on themselves, they (the parents) are thereby shredding the story’s effectiveness as a story, turning it into just so many disconnected proverbs. 

Doing so, they believe, is really despising the story itself - using the story, if you will, as a mere pulpit from which to preach to kids. Is preaching bad, then, some will reply? No, say the Don’t Spoil It crowd, but there’s a time and place for everything. And if you turn a story into nothing more than a setting for your moralisms, you have (1) guaranteed that the power of the story to affect the minds and hearts of your children is almost completely destroyed, and (2) turned the story into little more than propaganda. 

For some reason, I’ve heard these folks at their most vocal when it comes to the aforementioned Aslan, and The Chronicles of Narnia. There is a cottage industry of books written to explain the Christian meaning of the Narnian tales (I myself have written one of them). The Don’t Spoil It folks think it almost abhorrent that a parent would actually tell their kids who Aslan is (though it’s worth remembering that Lewis himself said that kids almost always figure it out quickly; adults, almost never).

Then there is what we might call the Never Miss a Teachable Moment school. Such parents think that a story (be it movie, book, poem, audio drama, or whatever) must always teach virtue and morality to kids; some would say that’s their only real value. And if we fail to draw out these lessons from every tale, we have, by our silence, turned the story into mere entertainment. On this view, it is the duty of parents to serve as Interpreters of the Story.

Both school have their strong points: the Don’t Spoil it parent is certainly right that there is a peculiar power that stories have to shape our loves and loyalties, quite apart (or at least distinct) from the explicit moral lessons that may be there. And I do think it is possible to overdo the teaching: if you find yourself stopping every couple of paragraphs to say, “now, kids, what this means is…”), then you are probably destroying the enchantment of the story, the ability of children to enter into the Story-world. Imagine Cecil B. DeMille popping out from behind the curtain every ten minutes of The Ten Commandments (instead of just at the beginning) to explain what just happened. Or imagine watching every movie with the Director’s Commentary running. 

But it’s also true (as the Teachable Moment folks correctly point out) that parents have a real responsibility to teach their children, and there are many lessons in stories that can help children learn how they ought to act or react in various situations. The wise parent will insist that children not miss these lessons (more on this anon).

But both Schools can also go to seed, of course. Don’t Spoil It parents can end up being the type that never discuss anything with their kids (“can’t we just enjoy the movie without turning Family Night into Philosophy Class?”). These are the families who utter that unspeakable heresy, “it’s just a story.” Oh, no it’s not. It may be many things. But it’s never “just” a story. 

On the other hand, the Teachable Moment Dad can easily turn into QWERTY from Veggie Tales, spitting out context-less Bible verses while Mom sings, “And so what we have learned applies to our lives today…” Bleh. Or like Chris, that perky host of Adventures in Odyssey, who always comes along at the end of a story to share a relevant Bible passage and encourage kids to learn the appropriate lesson from the episode. I love Odyssey, but I can’t help feeling that the show would be better off without the Max Lucado-type Life Lessons at the end.

What to do, then? Perhaps I’m tipping my hand, but I’m going to attempt to settle this dispute by…quoting a Bible passage. Remember when David sinned with Bathsheba and then had her husband killed? Nathan the prophet later comes to David, with the explicit purpose of what we may describe as Teaching David a Lesson. He comes, in fact, to drive David to repentance over a very specific moral problem. And how does he do it? He tells him a story:

There were two men in one city; the one rich, and the other poor. The rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds: But the poor man had nothing, save one little ewe lamb, which he had bought and nourished up: and it grew up together with him, and with his children; it did eat of his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a daughter. And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his own flock and of his own herd, to dress for the wayfaring man that was come unto him; but took the poor man's lamb, and dressed it for the man that was come to him. (II Sam. 12:1 – 4)


Now, first of all: does the story, as a story, have the desired effect, without Nathan having to say, “In today’s story, we learned…”)? I think we can say, “yes.” As proof, consider David’s reaction:


And David's anger was greatly kindled against the man; and he said to Nathan, As the LORD liveth, the man that hath done this thing shall surely die: And he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had no pity. (v. 5 – 6)


Here we see clearly the power of Story to move and change us. And yet…it is just at this point that Nathan steps in with the Director’s Commentary:


And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man. (v. 7)


Then he goes on for the next six verses (so much for QWERTY’S aversion to anything longer than a verse or so) describing exactly how David was the rich man who stole the poor man’s lamb.


Should he have left David to figure it out? Or was there something much more powerful in his, “Thou art the man”? Here, both elements have their place: the power of Story, and the duty of fatherly instruction and interpretation. As parents, we must not miss this critical point: there will be times when, having read the story of traitorous Edmund, or arrogant Eustace, or bratty Rosamond (from George MacDonald’s The Wise Woman), we must turn to our child and say, in effect, “Thou art the kid.”

I think it’s all in how we provide such commentary, not whether it’s okay to do it or not: I agree with the Teachable Moment parents that we have a duty to serve as Interpreters of Stories and Teachers of Moral Philosophy. It is also true that silence on our part is really little better than abdication to the story’s author, whose ideas and worldview will therefore rule the day by default, whether they ought to or not (for the author is certainly doing his share of teaching).

To the extent that the Don’t Spoil It parents subscribe to the idea that “kids should be left to form their own ideas,” Christians should of course reject them utterly. Parents are required by God to teach and instruct (and truly they do teach, whether they intend to or not); they are, in this sense, the “directors” of their children’s theological and moral education. Combine that with the fact that kids are going to ask questions, anyway, and we are left with the inevitability of the Director’s Commentary. But perhaps we should remember that, while watching our DVDs and Blu-Rays, we normally turn on The Director’s Commentary the second time through. 

Friday Movie Reviews: Darby O'Gill and the Little People


At a recent talk I gave at the Veritas Press Teacher Training Conference, some of the participants asked questions about watching movies, and what some recommended films might be. We talked about how movie-watching can be a part of a family storytelling culture. My good wife has a website over at This Parenting Adventure, and on Fridays, she posts a movie review, covering family favorites we've collected over the years. And for good reason, for Fridays have been designated (happily, if not too originally) Family Movie Night in the Newsom household. So I thought I would draw from her reviews, and give the Fatherly perspective, particularly as these films relate to the idea of building a family culture of storytelling, which, as will be known to any of you who have read my books, is a major point of emphasis for me.


Angela recently reviewed Darby O'Gill and the Little People. This was a film produced by Disney in (if memory serves) 1959. One of a string of successful (and mostly excellent) live action films that had begun with Treasure Island, Darby O’Gill is possibly the best thing old Walt ever put on film. From an excellent script to outstanding comic performances, to ground-breaking special effects (forty years later, Peter Jackson borrowed the forced perspective techniques used in Darby for his Lord of the Rings trilogy), this film has it all. It’s clever, hilarious, even a bit scary in places. The movie is based on the book by Hermione Kavanagh, but Disney’s story is original (though drawing heavily from the characters, lore, and language of the book); whereas the book tells tales of a young Darby, the film picks up with Darby as an old man.

Darby (masterfully played by Albert Sharpe) has a long history of interaction with “the Little People,” better known as Leprechauns. The film tells the story of Darby’s friendly battles of wits with Brian O’Connor, King of the Leprechauns (just as masterfully played by Jimmy O’Dea). The interaction between these two is what makes the film. I won’t go deeper than that into the story: I’d rather let you experience it for yourself, while I spend the time I have talking about some of the more interesting elements, at least in the opinion of your humble correspondent.