Identity & Literature: The Green Ember and The Bravery of Hope

I’ll never forget my dad driving me and some middle school friends home from a movie theater. I don’t remember what we watched. I remember us tearing the movie up one side and down another, laughing about all the parts we found absurd or lame, while my dad silently dropped everyone off one by one. When it was just the two of us in the minivan, he made an observation. I don’t remember the exact words, but it was something like, “I heard lots of things you guys didn’t like, but I’m sure there were some good parts too. It’s better to focus on those.”

If there’s one thing middle schoolers are good at, it’s sarcastic criticism. The sad thing is that we often struggle to mature beyond middle school. We believe that going out into the world with chainmail cynicism is what it means to be an adult. I’ll equip myself to fight the darkness by letting the darkness live inside—expecting the darkness, making peace with it. I’ll be able to take my stand once I master a face of grizzled irritation.

The Green Ember by S.D. Smith, a runaway hit in Christian children’s fantasy, has received its share of criticism for being overly dark for its intended age. Its supporters point to the same feature as the explanation of its success—Smith doesn’t patronize. He gives children the world they know is out there, then shows The Good winning. He does so without preaching, heavy-handed allegory, or flavorless caricatures that make some books in his genre feel like you’re reading a paint-by-number Thomas Kinkade. Fans of The Green Ember view these realistic portrayals of darkness and danger as respect for the reader.

I believe the realism of evil in The Green Ember sets the stage for its real strength—exploring the question: “What is bravery?” One of the main characters, Pickett, yearns more than anything else to perform brave and heroic deeds. The trouble is, he views his success in this realm primarily through externals—battles won, enemies defeated. The real test of bravery ripples underneath the surface and threatens to tear the good guys apart—the question is whether you can fight evil with hope and kindness?

That’s the real question in our world, too. Our world has many competing visions of The Good, both outside and inside the church. But standing at the head of nearly every one of them is some charged up, angry pundit shooting off a new diatribe every week about what’s wrong with the baddies. And yes, I realize I just did something similar in the last sentence.

To some degree, that’s good. Sin is sin. It’s dark, evil, horrific, and we need people to expose it in all its hiding places. My concern, and I’m speaking to myself here, is the tone in which we carry on this fight as Christians. Negativity is just so much easier.

“There’s a time to break down, and a time to build up” (Ecclesiastes 3:3). I hear from almost every corner this battle cry for Christians to pursue “the good, the true, and the beautiful.” I wonder though, functionally, what percentage of that pursuit involves breaking down and what percentage is building up?

In the end, good triumphs through Jesus offering grace and forgiveness by dying for the ones perpetrating evil against him. This doesn’t mean Christians should become doormats or let evil slide by unchallenged. It means that the struggle for bravery doesn’t only happen when you battle with sensuality, oppression, and selfishness out in the world. The real fight happens internally, as you wake up every day in a world where your eyes are increasingly opened to the prevalence of such things, and yet you choose hope. You choose joy and grace because you have Jesus.

Bravery means you are willing to look naïve and weak as others look down on you from their lofty towers of enlightened cynicism. Bravery means you will look like a child because you’re trusting you have a good Father, even in the face of senseless, inexplicable pain and sadness.

Christians wage war against the same darkness everyone feels. The difference comes in the supernatural way Christians not only endure but grow stronger in the fight. We have a sure hope of absolute good absolutely winning. And we have this hope living inside us.

At the end of Star Wars, Emperor Palpatine tells the protagonist, Luke, to “let your hate flow through you.” He even invites Luke to kill him under that influence, knowing that if he does, Luke will rise up in his place. Hatred can fuel you for a lifetime. It’s the only way the rest of our world knows how to fight. A Christian can draw water from another well—the sacrifice and resurrection hope of Jesus. “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21). This includes “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (Philippians 4:8). As The Green Ember shows, it takes bravery to do that.

---

I have added a donations option below. I view my writing on this blog as a ministry, therefore my aim is to always offer it for free. If you feel you have been served well through this ministry, would you consider making a recurring or one-time donation?