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Posted (edited)

   That's a short question, which will probably receive an infinite number of replies.

    One example I can give is my short story, "See Lord, Here Are Two Swords", which is now posted in Critique & Feedback.

    It's a fanfiction crossover combining the former TV Series Xena: Warrior Princess & the Bible, in which Xena and Gabriele meet Jesus.

Edited by William D'Andrea
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20 minutes ago, suspensewriter said:

How do you work God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit into your writings?

 

I kind of refute the idea that they need to be written into our stories. I kind of assume God is in all my stories to whatever lesser or greater degree, and doesn't need me to shoehorn him anywhere (if you know what I mean).

With that said, this is how I do it in my WIP. (I grant up front this is a weird scene. I've always thought it would be interesting to show what it feels like to sit with 'the one who comes along-side,' and I took a stab at it in my Fantasy golem detective novel.)

 

After being mauled by two sabretooth tigers in the dungeon beneath mob boss Ghen Torna's office, Clay Golem has just 'died' on the table in the castle where they took him to try to save his life. Clay finally embraces the abyss and his clay shell completely falls apart on the table, nothing left but piles of clay shards which no longer contain any hint of order.

This scene takes place just before his subsequent 'resurrection.' (There are reasons for all this‚Äďthe clay shell he found himself in was not his original body, which is kept in a tube in stasis back on Earth, and when he 'died' on this world, his consciousness is briefly detached from his clay body and he exists only in this interim space maintained, we later find, by The Woman In Green, who makes a wordless¬†appearance here.)
 

Quote

 

I found myself walking up to the ledge overlooking the city which I had taken to calling Pyrynne’s Watch. I don’t know how I got there, but it was a pleasant place and I liked being there. I walked out and sat on the cliff’s edge and dangled my legs as Pyrynne had done the last time we were here together. I wondered how she was doing. I could feel the gravity of the moment like the wide open spaces under my dangling legs.

I wished I could jump.

I wished I could fly.

I wished I could cry.

But I could do none of those things, so I did the one thing I could still do, and I sat and observed the city below me beneath the canopy of trees, hidden from my sight, safe from my berserker nature. I wished I wasn’t like I was, but what are you going to do?

What was I going to do?

It bothered me that I couldn’t think deeper on these questions, and it bothered me that it didn’t bother me more.

After a timeless while, I realized with some small surprise that I was no longer alone. I turned as a slim woman in a forest green cloak appeared out of nowhere, walked straight out to the rocky point, and sat next to me, hood drawn over her head. I couldn’t see her eyes, could barely make out her cheek and the side of her face.

I said nothing to her; she said nothing to me.

My gaze returned to the valley, the distant city. I wondered if it was odd to have someone here, and decided it was kind of nice. The silence stretched on for quite some time, but was somehow more bearable now that it was shared.

A question occurred to me‚Äďdid I want to revisit my memories? I decided I did.

Like the breaking of a dam, my memories returned as a flood and my thoughts poured out. I thought about Tovan, the city’s champion, and how the people loved him as much as they feared me. His sudden betrayal and killing not only shattered the confidence of the people, it made me feel my inadequacy as a protector for the city and its denizens. His blood was on my hands. How can you atone for a champion fallen because of your sins?

I thought about Gielen, whose home was in play because of my interference in human affairs, a Magistra from another land stranded in Ahlendaleyh.

I thought about Scamp and Cob, one of whom I had rescued perhaps more thoroughly than the other.

I thought of the brothers Rhone, Kharl and Phalen, who were responsible for the people of the great covered city, and who each depended on me to help protect the very citizens who feared and discriminated against me for the crime of simply existing.

I thought of Lan and Koomi Lupos, people of faith who loved me for no good reason, and despite everything.

And then I thought of Pyrynne Thann, who was missing and whose freedom was in doubt. I’d betrayed her the most with my failures.

How could I fight for the city, fight against the Archmage, if I couldn’t find him, much less oppose him?

I felt the anguish, the grief, well up in me, and had no release.

It was an immutable truth‚Äďgolems cannot weep.

To my right, something miraculous happened. A small gasp escaped the lips of The Woman In Green. A single teardrop fell to her cheek, and then another. Before long, it was a torrent and her shoulders shuddered with her crying.

I realized with a start in my ache and grief that it was as if the Woman In Green was weeping the tears I couldn’t.

I let it all out, and the dammed feelings I’d pent up inside myself flowed freely down her cheeks like rivulets of grief.

It is an extremely intimate thing, sharing your grief. Once we started, all my emotions poured out of her eyes until there was nothing left.

This much I knew: her simple wordless presence was a balm to my ragged heart.

We sat there like that for a very long time. Finally, when our shared well of grief was emptied, she dabbed at her eyes with a simple cotton kerchief with a single gloved hand.

 

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With delicacy. In my first few novels, I had several characters who went by aliases. Rider was Elijah, who rode the chariot of fire up to heaven. Walker was Enoch, who walked with God. Lady Wisdom was another character, mistress of the Houses of Mourning. Also, I have aliens who are the descendants of evil people spared from the Flood of Noah by demons who rescued them and transported them to another world.

 

In two of my novels, I make reference to the Tower of Babel. My protagonist was its architect. It's destruction had ripple effects, messing with the language of the dragons on another world.

 

 

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1 hour ago, Johne said:

I realized with a start in my ache and grief that it was as if the Woman In Green was weeping the tears I couldn’t.

I let it all out, and the dammed feelings I’d pent up inside myself flowed freely down her cheeks like rivulets of grief.

It is an extremely intimate thing, sharing your grief. Once we started, all my emotions poured out of her eyes until there was nothing left.

This much I knew: her simple wordless presence was a balm to my ragged heart.

This is powerful. 

 

I "his consciousness is briefly detached from his clay body and he exists only in this interim space maintained, we later find, by The Woman In Green," then how does this happen?

1 hour ago, Johne said:

I walked out and sat on the cliff’s edge and dangled my legs

 

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God is the ink and the paper and the One who gets the idea that gets onto the paper. But you are asking if He is a character, or if there is a reference to Him. 

Those of my characters who know Him, interact with God the way I do. I couldn't write anything else. 

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15 minutes ago, carolinamtne said:

I(f) "his consciousness is briefly detached from his clay body and he exists only in this interim space maintained, we later find, by The Woman In Green," then how does this happen?

2 hours ago, Johne said:

I walked out and sat on the cliff’s edge and dangled my legs


The ancient Hebrews, it is said, believed at death, Man only exists in the mind of God. I'm riffing on that a little, suggesting Clay only exists, for a time, in the mind of The Woman In Green.

This is a tableau in his mind's eye, a mind which has temporarily been freed from a shell.

(We will see The Woman In Green one more time, near the end of Book Three, when we find where Clay's original human body has been kept, and what his ties are to it, and see The Woman In Green's role in keeping his original host body alive all this time.)

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I write about God through the relationships that my characters would have with Him if they were real people. The way I see it, my stories are the best tools I have for witnessing. (I speak better on paper than I do in person.) And my stories aren't important, only the Bible passages I include and what I write about God is. 

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5 hours ago, suspensewriter said:

Yes, that's the crux of it- how you portray your faith in a story

With all honesty, which includes a generous measure of doubt. James could have written that faith is dead without doubt. God did not give us all the answers. Honest doubt is the seeking, knocking, and asking that Jesus prescribed. It is the way we get more of God, and we can never have all there is while we are down here. 

The wider world is suspicious of people who say they don't doubt. Let's be real and authentic. With that in your mind, put your pen on the paper and see what comes out! 

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When I write, I usually try my hand at more mainstream fiction.  I don't often write stories really focused on God or Christianity.  But when I do, like others have said here, I try to write my characters interacting with God in an honest, human way, as I would do.

 

For example, one of the very first novels I seriously tried to write was called "Baptism by Hire" a play on the expression "baptism by fire".  It was about a British P.I. named Wilmington who relocates to Long Island, New York, after a scandal back in England in which his father disowned him.  Wilmington is an ardent atheist, but his first client turns out to be a Christian ... and he falls in love with her.  Long story short, she subsequently reforms him and he becomes converted (and solves the mystery, of course).  They get married and live happily ever after.

 

One day, I'd like to return to this idea and try to write it again, and better.  And maybe complete it.  Wilmington, the girl Arabella, and their lawyer friend Hammond were some of my earliest fictional characters, and I'm still quite fond of them.  I haven't written about them in so long.

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23 hours ago, suspensewriter said:

I'm writing a Book 3 in the Jesus Road series, and I am wondering about how to balance my faith with my story is what brought this topic up.

I feel the need to remind you that just having the name Jesus in the title is a dead giveaway, you will be dealing with religion. If you get to the end of the serais and that doesn't happen, it would be kind of wired. 

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If I write realistic fiction, God is easy to include. If I write fantasy or fiction taking place in a world not our own, it becomes difficult, for me, as I neither wish to write our Lord into a world of my making and not his, nor write in a type, figure, form or other god.

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As I am a minister, most people who know me know that I am a christian.   The only time I tend to avoid making a point of telling someone is when I am on holiday. Simply because, like doctors, as so as you say you are a vicar people either rather debating the existence of God, tell you how awful the church tell you their problems.  In short, what I go on holiday to get away from.

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14 minutes ago, Shamrock said:

as so as you say you are a vicar people either rather debating the existence of God, tell you how awful the church tell you their problems.

 

Seriously--they really do that?  Well, I suppose that goes with the territory.

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For me, it has to come from the characters and their actions, reactions, and experiences. Even the antagonist's actions & words can show God at work. I've written about "imperfect" people being selected by God for a purpose they don't initially understand. Happens all the time in the Bible! Without overtly mentioning it (you know, the old "show don't tell" ūüėá) I try to show how the Spirit moves characters when they don't even know they're being moved.

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Thanks for the thought-provoking post and answers!

 

With A Better Father, I'm trying to begin in a worldview that does not admit Christ. I want each main character to have a goal that is part of the canvas upon which Christ is presented. Hopefully, the contrast between canvas and subject will become clear as most of the characters ultimately value sacrificial love above their personal goals.

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