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When We All Become Zombies, What a Day of Rejoicing That Will Be…

April 5, 2010 in Faith and Culture, Staff Posts with 4 Comments

Christopher Fisher

I imagine (and hope) most of you spent your Easter Sunday relaxing after church with bellies full of ham and mashed potatoes, followed by sporadic nibbles of chocolate, of course. I, however, had to work. In preparation for a much anticipated move to Virginia this summer, we’re planning to list our house sometime this week in the floundering real estate market. So we’re up to our eyebrows in last minute projects, cleaning, spot painting, etc. I didn’t  have time to get online yesterday, so I’m just now getting caught up with all the online Easter well-wishes. But there’s a lot of something else I missed out on yesterday–though I can’t say I minded missing it–something I guess would be the opposite of Easter greetings.

Now, I understand that not everyone shares my belief, and I don’t expect them to. I can see how the idea of a bodily resurrection from death can sound ridiculous. In all honesty, there are times I question it myself, as any rational human being would. I also am aware that we live in a time and culture where animus toward religion–particularly the “establishment” religion of Christianity–is very much in vogue. But I don’t know whether to laugh or rant at the new buzz word many of my non-Christian friends and colleagues are applying to all things Easter.

An old, old story, how a zombie came from glory…

If I have before heard the word zombie used to describe the risen Christ, I don’t recall it. But today the word seems to be everywhere. One versed in Christian tradition might at first think that anyone who draws such a comparison must have a less than rudimentary understanding of our faith. But to compare Christ’s resurrection to Night of the Living Dead is more than an innocent misunderstanding of Christian doctrine.  It is an accusation. It is a pointing finger that says, “see the fool and all his silly, foolish ways!” (Incidentally, this is also a typical Reducto ad ridiculum/straw man fallacy: a mind-numbed, brain-eating zombie makes an easy target to tear down, but anyone who is half-way familiar with both zombies and the account of the risen Christ must admit that–even taking both characters as fiction–they are not the same. Not even close. It’s like comparing Prometheus to Spongebob. Apples to maggots.)

I don’t worship a zombie. I don’t know anyone who does. Unless you count the throngs of George Romero fans, which collectively do form something of a cult, though it’s not really the same thing. But even these, should they ever decide to cross over from fanaticism to full-blown zombie worship, would probably be given a modicum of tolerance (though probably not respect). Which makes me  wonder, when it comes to Christ’s resurrection, why the spite and condescension? Why the willful malice?

Perhaps there’s something more…

Consider this. If tomorrow we thawed and revived Walt Disney, cured his every sickness and human frailty, and set him back to sketching delightful little cartoon characters, then not only would this be accepted by the secular world; it would be hailed as the apex of scientific achievement, the climax of the human story. April 6 would ever after be remembered as the day our race conquered our own mortality.

If we say, however, that this has already been done by a person/spirit/force of infinitely greater intelligence and power than our own, then we can expect nothing less than ridicule and contempt. The truth is that it’s not the notion of resurrection that many find incredible, even offensive. It’s the source of that regeneration. To accept the resurrection of Christ, through the power of God, is to accept our own smallness and reliance on Another for our every breath of life. And it is to acknowledge that to this power we are all accountable.

This, I believe, is the true stone of stumbling for skeptics of resurrection. Not the possibility that the dead may have risen or may one day rise, but the distasteful notion that we are inadequate, incapable of saving ourselves, and not truly our own.

Getting To Calvin, And How You Can Help

February 1, 2010 in General, Relief News, Staff Posts with 0 Comments

Christopher Fisher

Your Typical Anecdotal Opening

This past December I discovered that, as with many high-tech toys and devices, I despise GPS navigation systems.

The university was closed for winter break and I didn’t have to teach again until mid-January, so Jen and I decided to take a short anniversary trip—our thirteenth. We chose Richmond, Virginia, for the Edgar Allan Poe museum, the many antique and book shops in Carytown, and because it’s close to Jen’s parents (in other words, free babysitting for our four kids). The in-laws’ Honda is much too small to carry our abundant progeny, so it seemed only natural that we would swap vehicles for the weekend. My father-in-law, being the considerate man that he is, even programmed his GPS to direct us to our hotel. “Just follow the directions,” he said. “You can’t miss it,” he said.

But after thirteen years, I guess he doesn’t know his son-in-law as well as he thinks. Coming into the city, I followed the sweetly feminine computerized voice, at the same time keeping a careful eye on the car’s odometer.

“Turn left 3.2 miles.”

Okay.

“Turn left onto I-95 North.”

Done.

“Exit point one miles.”

No problem.

“Recalculating. Recalculating.”

Wait a second. Didn’t she say—

“Recalculating.”

One wrong turn, and we were lost in downtown Richmond. And not the “good” side of town, either.

Now I’d looked at a map before we began the trip so, after half an hour of turns and double backs, we finally stumbled on Cary Street, and I had a vague idea where we were. I turned off the GPS and headed west. Ten minutes later we arrived at our destination, exhausted and completely stressed. All because I trusted that wicked computer wench.

Just thirty seconds with a map, and none of this would have happened. Thirty seconds with a map, and we’d have already been checked into our room and opening a bottle of wine.

The Real Point

All of the above is just to point out that I’m the type of person who likes—no, needs—to plan ahead. To me, the phrase “fly by the seat of your pants” has never sounded remotely fun or adventurous but…well, quite painful. I won’t even sit down to write the first sentence of a book or a short story until I’ve worked out the ending in my head. I may not know every detail of the journey (whether literal or narrative), but I know I’m wasting my time if I don’t at least know where I’m going before I start trying to get there. So though it is not until this coming April, the staff at Relief has been for the past six months making preparations for quite a showing at the Calvin Festival of Faith and Writing. And these preparations are really starting to speed up.

This year we will have a booth in the exhibition hall to sell recent and back issues of the journal. With some help from Midnight Diner Editor, Michelle Pendergrass, and authors Michael Snyder and J. Mark Bertrand, we’ll also be presenting a panel discussion during the concurrent sessions. There will be lots of games and giveaways and a circus monkey performing Glenn Beck impersonations. (Okay, I lied about that last part, but if we find one, we’ll make it happen.)

What Does This Have To Do With You?

And yet, all our careful planning aside, there are three specific things we need to get to Calvin. First, as I’ve learned since taking the Editor’s chair, what Relief and probably any journal needs more than anything is people who are willing to actually do things. In this case, that would be little things like helping to man a book table, or passing out flyers, or just spreading the word about the journal. So if you’re going to the Calvin Festival and you’re interested in being a Relief volunteer, please contact me at chris@reliefjournal.com.

Second—and this one is tough for me to even bring up—the Calvin Festival is, essentially, a book fair, so Relief will obviously need books to sell. And books cost money. The last year has been hard on businesses nationwide. Much more so for non-profit Christian literary journals, many of which have folded since the last Calvin Festival in 2008. Relief is fortunate to even still be around, and more fortunate to have completely sold out of Issues 3.1 and 3.2. But that good luck leaves us now with no inventory of our most recent books, and Issue 4.1 may not be complete by April. In short, we need to print another run of 3.2 before Calvin, and we’ll have to get on that very soon. If you are interested in helping to support Relief by donating to put a few books on our table, email me at the address above for details. Your donation will go much further than you may realize, and we will welcome and appreciate any gift, no matter how small.

Third and final, I’d like to ask you to pray for the Relief staff over the next couple months. We are volunteers ourselves, most of us working full-time jobs and then some, and then putting many extra hours of our precious little free time into this journal simply because we love it and the authors we publish. Prepping for a conference like this is a big undertaking, and it only heaps more onto a very tall mountain of things to be done. So please mention us to the Father when you can.

Some Words from a Very Comfy Chair

January 4, 2010 in Relief News, Staff Posts with 2 Comments

Christopher Fisher

Christopher Fisher

I think my first words were: “Oh, God. Why now?” Then I panicked and nearly yanked out a fistful of hair.

It wasn’t that I had been expecting this—a chance to lead the Relief team into the new decade. And then again, I won’t say I’ve never entertained the fantasy of one day becoming editor of a literary journal, and hopefully one very much like Relief. But the thought of sitting in this chair had never once occurred to me. Yet shocked and thrilled as I was by Kimberly Culbertson’s email offering me the Editor in Chief spot, I was frustrated and depressed to realize there was no way, at the time, that I could say yes. The problem was the timing.

The last half of 2009 was, hands down, the busiest and most exhausting period of my life. . . so far. Holding down a full-time editing job, teaching two sections of freshman composition, handling a couple of freelance editing projects, and keeping up with my duties as Relief’s Fiction Editor meant working about 14 hours a day, every day, seven days a week. Kimberly’s email came right in the midst of all this, so I knew that in order to take her offer, something in my schedule would have to give. After much thought, prayer, and counsel with some very wise people, I decided I would give up one of my comp courses—and the pay that accompanies it—to make room in my schedule for the many added duties the Editor in Chief position entails. In other words, smack in the middle of a recession, with bills to pay and a large family to support, I would give up a paying gig and work twice as hard for free!

Now if that has you questioning the wisdom of those counselors I mentioned, don’t. I am convinced now that they were absolutely right. Working with the Relief team as Fiction Editor has been a joy. In fact, it has been my sanity in a time when I am paid for almost everything I read. I know getting paid to read sounds great, but the downside is when you’re getting paid, you have no choice of what you read. The reality is that almost all of my reading these days is academic writing, from beginning student papers to expert-level studies on the racial composition of prisons in Arizona. Believe me, it can be maddening to a “creative” writer. And after six years, it’s certainly no joy.

Though I have not earned a dime here at Relief (none of us have), those twin sisters—joy and sanity—are their own reward, and I am sure that devoting even more time and energy to this journal will be an even greater blessing in the future. I am truly thrilled to be here, and I consider it a high honor to lead this outstanding team of editors, readers, and support staff to provide an outlet for unique voices from across Christendom and the whole faith spectrum.

In the coming months, little will change concerning the vision of Relief. This will remain the same great journal and writing community; the only difference is that—God willing—there will be more of it. Look for new faces and voices on our blog, in addition to the familiar favorites. We’re also considering some exciting new web features, such as audio fiction and poetry. For those of you interested in helping to support the journal, we’ll be having a donation/subscription drive soon (though you certainly don’t have to wait until then to make a donation or order a subscription). And depending on how well that goes and the funds available to us, we plan to do at least one very big (but for now very secret) project this coming summer. Finally, we’re already taking submissions for Issue 4.1, and it’s looking pretty good so far. Click here to get your submissions in before the period closes on March 1, 2010.

So here’s to another great year of Relief. I hope you’re all just half as excited as I am.

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