I’ve had an opportunity to talk to the fiction publisher for Thomas Nelson, Allen Arnold, about my recent review of The Unseen, by Tony (T.L.) Hines. Arnold was gracious to call me and seek my opinion about the book, and to lay out his department’s goals and objectives for Christian fiction. We had a great chat, which left me with the sense that the publishing house is truly concerned about the work it produces, as well as consumer opinion. Arnold encouraged me to contact the author with my concerns, which I did in a series of emails.
I’ll post the email I received as Hines’ first response to my review, and then some excerpts from the enjoyable email conversations I had with him. My intent is to enlighten you as to his philosophy of writing, to introduce you to a delightful Christian, and to let you know what can expect from his fiction. Hines gave me permission to share our emails here.
Hines’ response to my review:
First of all, thanks for such a thoughtful and thorough review. It would be wonderful if all readers engaged with their books as much as you obviously do.
I’ll give you my view (which admittedly, you did not specifically ask for). Maybe you’ll agree with some of it; maybe you’ll agree with none of it.
In my town, there’s a man who takes a bullhorn to one of the busiest street corners every Saturday, and proceeds to yell the salvation message to all the cars at the stoplights.
I’m guessing most people would consider him a committed Christian. And if that’s his interpretation of the Great Commission, that’s what he should be doing. Trouble is, I think that’s the way a lot of we Christians feel about the faith as well. We think all Christians have to be out there on the battle lines (because we always seem to frame it in war terms, don’t we?), yelling the gospel at the top of our lungs.
But I wonder how many unsaved, unchurched people respond to those kinds of messages today. Maybe I should say: “respond positively,” because a lot of people think anyone who attends church regularly is a wingnut…precisely because the guys with the bullhorns get so much attention.
If you’ll allow me me to be blunt, I think the modern church has a tendency to create exclusive circles. We speak in Christianese, our sentences filled with “blessings” and “praise” and “callings” and “gifts” and many other words that are code to other Christians…but have no meaning to people outside our circles.
I think, in general, we need to be more inclusive. We need to stop speaking in our Christianese code, and use words that are meaningful to everyone. We need to realize actions speak louder than words, and therefore realize talking ABOUT Jesus–yelling through the bullhorn–is less important than showing His love.
On the flip side, also in my town, a certain section of the city (known as “The Heights”) has tried to get a community swimming pool for some years. The residents put the issue on a ballot, and had it voted down (partly because the whole city, and not just the neighborhood, votes on the measure). Last year, a neighborhood church said, “Instead of expanding our church, we’re going to build that swimming pool for everyone in the community to use.” They encountered resistance, of course. Some people thought they’d hand out tracts to kids using the pool. Some thought they’d force residents to come to the church, or sign up for a home visit, or…something. But no. They are adamant the pool is going to be for use by anyone, without any restrictions or proselytizing of any kind. They’re doing it because they see a need, and they are serving their neighbors.
And you know what? People are buzzing about it, because it’s the exact opposite of what they expect from a church. Some might say the church is missing a great opportunity to give kids a gospel message while they’re using the pool. But others (myself included) see an opportunity to bring people into the church to find out what it’s all about…because maybe their perceptions have been wrong.
I say all of that to not to argue, but to show you what’s important to me and my interpretation of the Great Commission. In my writing, I want to give people something they’re not expecting on many levels. A bizarre story, of course. Some twists and turns. And ultimately, a redemptive tale that isn’t filled with the traditional motifs we find present in a lot of Christian fiction.
Perhaps what I’ve written on my site does give the impression I’m denigrating “traditional” (for lack of a better word) Christian fiction. That’s not my intent at all, and I’ll look at changing the wording to make myself clearer. I love to see all kinds of Christian books on the shelves, because I think we need those books to serve and encourage all kinds of people.
[ he did change the paragraph I referred to in my review ]
Are many of my readers Christians? You bet. Probably most–and I’m thankful for every one of them. But many aren’t. I’ve spent the last several weeks signing books at Costco stores around the region, as well as Barnes & Nobles. I’ve given several talks at public libraries, where folks of all different backgrounds come to listen. I have no qualms about telling them I’m a Christian, and I work with a Christian publisher–and then I talk with them about some of the obstacles I face as a person writing faith-based fiction in a world that often doesn’t want to talk about faith. (It might also surprise you to know I’ve delivered a couple of sermons, and written non-fiction articles for Christian publications such as the “Conservative Theological Journal” and “Stand Firm” magazine.)
Just as importantly, many of my Christian readers have non-Christian friends who read books, and I hope they feel comfortable passing them along to those friends. I want to write books that have the potential to resonate with all of them. For Christians, certainly, all my books are tales of redemption, which is what God’s unfolding story is all about. For non-Christians, they’re tales of oddity and adventure…but also starting points for discussion. (You’ll notice we put discussion questions in the back of the book.) Like the church building an unexpected pool for the community, I want to build unexpected stories that have diving boards.
In the end, we may not agree. You may find what I do as tepid, and I can live with that; debate and discussion are healthy. Our basic commonalities are far more important than any differences of opinion we might have. We both serve the one and only true God, and we both long to one day hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” I look forward to someday celebrating that occasion with you, my Sister in Christ.
-Tony
My reply:
Like you, I am a bit afraid of the kooks who make loving Jesus look so weird for the rest of us. However, I feel it’s urgent we tell the message when we have opportunity, and before it’s too late. The example of the church and the pool is a good one; and I like how you tied it to your way of presenting God.
I don’t know if I’m spiritually blind to your tale, but I just don’t see God’s redemption in it. I see that he was “redeemed” by his co-worker. And I was wondering if they were going to stay in hotels together as they went off into the sunset, etc. I suppose I’m a concrete thinker, and I need the message spelled out.
Tony:
I’m not quite sure what Sarea did that could be read as redeeming Lucas; for that matter, I’m not sure what any person could do to redeem another. But certainly, she’s one of the catalysts on his journey. I think Lucas’s redemption is summed up well by Mad Billy Weevil, his angelic messenger: he becomes a person who looks and can see, a person who hears and can feel. Lucas discovers we’re meant not to live in isolation cut off from others, but in community with those around us. Being human is about being relational; being human is not about dispassionately observing the suffering of others (as the Creep Club and, frankly, our society, do), but by doing all we can to help the injustice we see. The moment he kneels at the front of the abandoned church to pray and the bird breaks free into the light, is symbolic of Lucas’s own transformation; he’s no longer afraid to be the person he was meant to be. The moment he refuses to kill his tormentor, the man who has made his life a hell since age six, is symbolic of Lucas leaving behind vengeance and hate and guilt. And the moment he sets off at the end of the story to find the springs that are so vivid in his dreams–the springs he visited in Great Falls as a young boy with his father and mother–promises to be a journey to healing waters, where he can be washed pure and reborn. He starts out as Humpty Dumpty, the ultimate broken vessel, but becomes whole by story’s end.
My reply:
My goodness, that’s why you’re the writer and I’m the reader. If there’s a sound for something going right over my head; it just happened. Thanks for taking the time to lay it out. I got the dove and the light part, but didn’t piece together Humpty or the rest. Lovely.
Thanks for engaging — probably a pain on your part, but fun for me.
When my husband was a plebe at West Point, he used to have to report to the upperclassmen so they could haze him. They would say “What are YOU LeGare?” and he would reply: “I am a wedge, the simplest of tools.”
Enjoy your Christmas and try not to think about “wedges” like me!
I love that wedge story…in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it ended up in one of my books at some point. Wedges are my favorite kinda people–the people, frankly, I usually write about in my books.
-Tony
We’re a military family, and have often lived in the town just outside an Army post. While we were assigned to Fort Riley, Kansas, every time we drove on or off the installation, we had to pass through the downtown area, which had a row of strip clubs.
