What Can We Learn from Fictional Characters?

  

What Can We Learn from Fictional Characters?

Once upon a time...

Some truths come wrapped in myth. Others are spoken in armor.

Stories have a way of pulling us out of ourselves so we can see things clearly. The best of them don’t just entertain—they shine a light on who we are and who we’re meant to be. King Arthur, though fictional, stands among those enduring figures whose words still echo with wisdom.

Below are four quotes attributed to Arthur—brief, but each one holding something deeper for those who are paying attention. Let’s walk through them slowly and see what they can teach us.

---

“May God grant us the wisdom to discover the right, the will to choose it, and the strength to make it endure.”

That’s a prayer we all need.

It’s one thing to know what’s right. It’s another to want it. And still another to carry it forward, day after day, when the pressure to compromise starts to mount.

James 1:5 reminds us that “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach.” But asking is just the start. Wisdom must be chosen. And once chosen, it must be lived, especially when it costs us something.

Arthur’s line reminds us that righteousness takes more than clarity—it takes courage and staying power. We need wisdom to see it, will to choose it, and strength to carry it through.

---

“You take the bad with the good. You don’t love people in slices.”

That line feels uncomfortably honest.

We like the idea of love, but we often want it on our own terms. We want to love the easy parts of people—their sense of humor, their talents, their kindness. But love that can’t weather imperfection isn’t love at all.

Romans 5:8 tells us that “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” That’s whole love. No slicing. No sorting. No preconditions.

Arthur reminds us what the cross already showed us: that love covers the entire person. And that we’re called to offer the same.

---

“In serving each other, we become free.”

This one flips the world’s logic on its head.

Most people think freedom means being unshackled—no obligations, no expectations. But Scripture teaches that freedom doesn’t mean doing whatever you want. It means being set free from sin in order to love well.

“You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love.” (Galatians 5:13)

And here’s something beautiful: this phrase—“In serving each other, we become free”—was said to be the inscription on the Round Table itself. It wasn’t just a motto; it was a mission. A daily reminder that true nobility wasn’t found in titles or swords, but in humility and service.

The Round Table had no head and no foot. No one sat higher than the other—not even the king. That was the point. Around that table, all were equal. Knights came not to demand honor, but to live it. The Round Table was more than furniture—it was an idea. A covenant. A living witness to the kind of kingdom Arthur hoped to build.

And that inscription—“In serving each other we become free”—was the very heart of Camelot. It needed no stone, no throne, no palace. Because it was not held in place by walls. It was a belief one held in the heart.

Arthur’s vision was noble not because it was grand, but because it echoed the Gospel. Freedom in Christ isn’t found in standing above others. It’s in kneeling, washing feet. Carrying burdens. Giving when it’s inconvenient. Arthur’s dream, in its best moments, sounded a lot like Jesus.

---

“God makes us strong for a little while so we can help each other.”

That one lingers.

No strength lasts forever—not health, not status, not clarity of mind. But when God gives it, even briefly, it's for a purpose beyond us.

1 Peter 4:10 says, “Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace.” We’re not given strength so we can stockpile it. We’re given strength so we can lift someone else up.

Arthur’s words call us to stewardship. If you’re strong today, help someone. If you’re not, remember—someone else’s strength may be meant for you.

---

Final Reflection

Fiction may not be fact, but it can still carry truth. The words of a legendary king won’t save your soul, but they can stir it. Arthur’s words remind us that the Christian life isn’t just about belief—it’s about endurance, wholeness, service, and stewardship.

And maybe, just maybe, God sometimes speaks through stories to show us how to live a better one of our own.

In excelsius Deo                                                                                                            "Glory to God in the highest."  

To listen to the audio of this blog post, click here:  Audio Blog Link 

Footnote:  I use AI to help me craft this blog post, and have for several months.  I wish this technology would have been around 13 years ago when I started blogging.  

It's a wonderful tool when used for the right purpose.  Tools like these should be part of our dominion, taking thoughts captive and making them obedient to Christ. Ask me and I'll show you how to use this realm of technology for the Glory of God and the betterment of our brothers and sisters. 

 

The Real Heart of Christianity: Love and The Good

 

I remember sitting on Grandpa’s porch one summer evening, the sun slowly dipping behind the hills, bathing the sky in gold and blue. I must’ve been about twelve. Grandpa was rocking in his chair, sipping sweet tea like he always did, Bible resting open on his lap—not for show, but because he genuinely loved that old Book.

Out of nowhere, he said, “Bertranos (that's what he called me), you know what Christianity’s really about? It ain’t guilt. It’s about love—the kind that changes you from the inside out.”

That line stuck with me. Especially now, when I hear folks like Richard Dawkins talk about Christianity like it’s some dark, guilt-ridden obsession with sin. I get it—he’s not alone in thinking that. A lot of people grew up hearing more about hell than hope. But I keep going back to Grandpa’s porch and the look in his eyes—like he knew something deeper, something richer.

And he did.

What Christianity Really Centers Around

Let’s clear this up: Christianity isn’t centered on sin. It’s centered on Love and The Good.
The Good? That’s not some vague moral code or list of dos and don’ts—it’s something Jesus Himself defined:

“Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.”
— John 17:3

Not just know about God. Know Him. Be in relationship with Him. That’s The Good. That’s eternal life.

So Where Does Sin Fit In?

Sure, sin’s real. It’s the thing that gets between us and The Good. It’s the disease—but it’s not the story. The story is about the cure. It’s about a God who so loved the world that He did something about it (John 3:16).

God didn’t send Jesus because He was disgusted with us. He sent Him because He loved us too much to leave us broken and blind. That’s why the Christian story is not about guilt—it’s about grace. Not about shame—it’s about restoration.

And here’s the kicker: we can’t fix ourselves. Holiness is required to be in God’s presence—but none of us can climb that mountain on our own. So Christ gives us His righteousness, like a clean robe thrown over our filthy clothes. That’s what the Bible means when it talks about imputed righteousness (Romans 3:22). It’s grace. It’s love. All the way down.

Love: The Engine of God’s Justice

A lot of folks think justice means punishment. But biblically speaking, God’s justice is about setting things right—restoring the broken. And what drives that justice? Love.

“Without holiness no one will see the Lord.” — Hebrews 12:14

But holiness isn’t something we manufacture by white-knuckling our way through life. It’s something God shares with us, because He wants us near. That’s love in action.

That’s why Jesus said all the commandments boil down to two things: Love God. Love your neighbor. (Matthew 22:37–40)

Why Dawkins Gets It Wrong

Now, to be fair, if all someone’s ever seen is a version of Christianity that heaps on guilt without pointing to grace—yeah, I can see why they’d think we’re obsessed with sin. But that’s like watching the opening credits and thinking you’ve seen the whole movie.

Yes, sin matters. But it’s not the center. The center is this:

“This is how God showed His love among us: He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.”
— 1 John 4:9

The story isn’t about condemnation. It’s about transformation. It’s about God reaching into the mud and lifting us out—not to scold, but to restore.

A Relationship, Not a Religion

When I think about the Christian life, I don’t think about checklists or shame. I think about walking with God in the cool of the day. I think about joy, peace, and love—not as goals to chase, but as fruits that grow when you’re connected to the Vine (Galatians 5:22–23).

Christianity is a relationship. A joyful, real, healing relationship with a God who knows us and still loves us.

---

So if someone asks you what Christianity is about, you can tell them this:
It’s not about being fixated on sin. It’s about being fascinated by love.
It’s not about rules. It’s about relationship.
It’s not about guilt. It’s about grace.

Just like Grandpa said on that porch—
It’s about love. The kind that changes you from the inside out.

“Why Not?” — The Two Words That Can Change Everything

    “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us…” — Ephesians 3:20 (NIV)

As a boy I visited my Grandpa Archie's home in the south.  We were sitting on the porch enjoying some vanilla ice cream one summer day and he pointed out the old oak tree in the front yard. "That tree wasn't always there, you know," he said.  I looked over at him with his tanned and wrinkled face, squinting at it like it held a secret. "Someone had to plant it. Had to believe it would grow."

Now, I don’t know much about trees and acorns and such.  But that line stuck with me: Had to believe it would grow.

That same spirit is captured in something Robert F. Kennedy once said — or borrowed, really, from George Bernard Shaw — but RFK made it famous:

    “Some men see things as they are and ask why. I dream things that never were and ask why not.”

Those two words — why not — carry something important:  hope, risk, vision all bundled together like a small seed waiting to break the ground's surface.

The Safe Question vs. the Brave One

Asking “why” has its place. A child asks why the sky is blue. A man asks why the system failed. A woman asks why her efforts go unappreciated.  Those are good and honest questions.

But “why not?” — now that’s a question that's of a different breed - it dares.

“Why not forgive that person?”
“Why not start something new?”
“Why not trust God again?”

“Why” looks back for explanations.
“Why not” looks forward for possibilities.

The Grocery Store Moment

I once observed a moment showing that in line at the grocery store.  There was this teenage kid ahead of me — probably working his first job — and he noticed an elderly lady struggling to count out her change. The rest of us in line were sort of shuffling and looking around, breathing a little harder.  
But this kid? He said to her, "Let me cover that for you ma'am."  And he pulled out his own wallet and paid the bill.

It was maybe a few dollars. But the look on that woman’s face said, her lip started quivering.  To her it was worth alot more.  All because a young man dared to ask, why not do something kind?

A Voice From Long Ago

You know, Jesus once fed thousands of people with five loaves of bread and two fish. Now I imagine when he asked his disciples to bring him the 5 loaves and the two fish there might have been a skeptic thinking, "What's he going to do with that for 5,000 people."  "Why even try?"

But Jesus seemingly asked a different question: Why not bring it to Me?

He blessed it, broke it, and multiplied it and fed the 5,000. He always does more than we expect when we stop asking “why can’t it be done?” and start asking “why not trust Him to do something miraculous?”

The World Could Use a Few More Dreamers

There’s no shortage of people asking why things are broken, and complainig about the state of affairs. But the world changes when someone looks at what isn't yet — and believes it could be.  For us Christians that's called a hopeful eschatology.

A foster mom says, “Why not love a child who isn’t mine?”
A pastor says, “Why not preach to a crowd that might not listen?”
A neighbor says, “Why not knock on their door and offer a helping hand?”

That’s how communities heal. That’s how stories get rewritten.

It Starts With You

So here’s my challenge, friend:
Next time you see a broken thing — a strained friendship, a rough day, a scary dream — don’t stop at why.

Ask why not.

You just might plant an oak tree that someone will sit under one day.

And if you’re wondering whether God is too busy or too distant to use you? Just remember, He often chooses ordinary folks who are crazy enough to believe extraordinary things can happen.

Why not be one of them?

    “Jesus looked at them and said, ‘With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.’” — Matthew 19:26 (ESV)

The Strength of a Gentle Voice: A Man’s Greatest Tool

  

There’s a difference between speaking loudly and speaking effectively. One demands attention. The other earns respect.

And if you’ve ever been in a situation where words got heated and nobody won, you already know: the loudest voice in the room isn’t always the strongest.

That’s where gentleness comes in. And if that word makes you think of softness or weakness, think again. Biblical gentleness is strength under control. It's a choice. A discipline. And for men, it might be one of the most underrated marks of real leadership.

Enter Verbal Judo: Tactical Gentleness

Dr. George J. Thompson - former English professor, cop, and founder of Verbal Judo  - taught thousands of law enforcement officers how to use words instead of force to de-escalate conflict. He said it plainly:

"People rarely do what you say. They almost always do what they understand."

In other words, yelling doesn’t usually fix anything. But when a man knows how to control himself, shape his tone, and speak with calm authority - that is power.

He called it tactical communication. The idea was simple: never react emotionally. Stay calm. Deflect verbal attacks. Redirect the conversation. Always maintain your own control - and then, if needed, help others regain theirs.

It’s what Proverbs was getting at all along:

“A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger” (Proverbs 15:1).

Dr. Thompson didn’t quote Scripture — but he stumbled upon the same truth. The man who can choose gentleness in the face of disrespect holds more power than the man who barks and blusters.

Jesus: The Ultimate Master of Verbal Judo

Let’s take it further. Jesus didn’t shout people into the Kingdom. He didn’t dominate conversations with volume. But He always had command of the room. He asked piercing questions. He remained silent when provoked. He flipped traps into truth.

When the Pharisees tried to corner Him, He never took the bait. He stayed poised. Controlled. Precise.

That’s what Dr. Thompson called “staying above the fray.” Not getting pulled down into emotional chaos. Jesus modeled it. And if we’re going to follow Him - truly follow Him - we have to learn that skill too.

What Gentleness Really Looks Like in a Man

Let’s be clear. Gentleness doesn’t mean letting people walk all over you. It means you don’t have to swing your weight around to get things done.

• It means you can give a warning without threatening.

• It means you can correct someone without humiliating them.

• It means you can protect your wife and children — not just with your strength, but with your presence, your calm, and your words.

Ephesians 4:29 says:

“Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up… that it may give grace to those who hear.”

That’s not soft. That’s strategic.

Tactical Gentleness in Everyday Life

Here’s what it looks like:

• With your wife: Instead of reacting, ask questions. Don’t raise your voice to prove a point. Show her she’s heard - and then speak your mind with care.

• With your kids: Discipline with calm, not volume. Set firm boundaries - but speak with a voice they trust, not fear.

• At work: Be the guy who doesn’t lose his cool when tensions rise. You’ll stand out. People respect restraint more than power plays.

• With critics: You don't have to match their tone. Let them burn out their fire. Then speak with grace and clarity - and watch the temperature drop.

Final Word

Look - the world’s full of men who talk tough, posture loud, and think gentleness is for someone else. But the men who make a real impact? The ones who shape lives, lead well, and leave a legacy?

They speak gently. Not because they can’t roar - but because they’ve learned when not to.

So ask yourself: Is my voice a weapon, or a tool? Am I adding fuel to the fire, or putting it out?

The Bible calls us to be “quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19). Dr. Thompson called it verbal judo. Jesus, like in all things lived verbal judo.

Let’s follow His lead - with strength, purpose, and a voice that speaks peace.

---

Lord, help me master my tongue. Teach me to speak with wisdom and calm. Make my voice a steady anchor in every room I walk into. Let the people around me feel safer, stronger, and more respected - because I carry Your gentleness into every conversation. 

Amen.

When Awe Points Upward

 

 

---

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands."      ~ Psalm 19:1

There’s this short video floating around of Dr. James Tour—world-renowned chemist, deeply thoughtful Christian—speaking with a student after one of his talks. And the exchange struck me.  

The student respectfully asks:

“My question is, let's say science does discover the origin of life, where would that leave you and your initial proposition for this talk?”

Without skipping a beat, Dr. Tour lights up with a smile on his face:  

“I would be so happy. I would be so happy because prior to the mid-1950s, people did not really understand a molecular basis for the fact that if you have two parents that are tall, their child is tall. They didn't have a molecular basis for that.

And then the structure of DNA was figured out just in like 1952, 1953, right around in there. Certainly within the lifetime of many people that are alive today.

So that doesn't make God less in my eyes because we understand how he preserves this information.

That actually makes him more marvelous in my eyes. It's like, oh, that’s how you did it. I mean, this is amazing.

And there's this whole molecular basis for this. And that’s why I’m a chemist. I mean, you just—God’s a chemist. I mean, it's all stored in the molecules like this.

So the more we learn about creation, the more amazing God becomes.”

I meditated on that for awhile.  I've heard preached many times the horizontal and vertical with God and his creation.  

And I thought, here’s a world-class scientist, fully invested in his scientific study of God, saying with a childlike spark: “God, You are more amazing than I thought.”

It reminds me of what Dr. Paul David Tripp so often teaches—that we are wired for awe of God.

“I came to see that I was wired for awe...of God. No other awe satisfies the soul. No other awe can give my heart the peace, rest, and security that it seeks.”

Tripp points out that creation is intentionally filled with awe-inspiring wonders—not just to wow us, but to point us back to the One who made them. He writes:

“God created an awesome world. God intentionally loaded the world with amazing things to leave you astounded... God designed all to be awesome. And he intended you to be daily amazed.”

And yet, he’s quick to warn: don’t stop at the beauty. Don’t let awe become horizontal only.

“If awesome things in creation become your god, the God who created those things will not own your awe. Horizontal awe is meant to do one thing: point you vertically to God.”

When awe stays stuck in the created thing—whether it’s a mountain range, a human cell, or a brilliant scientific theory—it’s like reading a love letter and ignoring the one who wrote it. It doesn’t satisfy. It can’t.

“For awe left alone only leads to us marveling in nature, while awe focused on the God who created these amazing sights leads to worship, peace, joy, and a deep sense of inner contentment.”

And that’s what Dr. Tour’s response gets so beautifully right. He doesn’t fear discovery. He welcomes it. Because the more we learn about the intricacies of life, the more they lead him to worship. The awe doesn’t stop at the molecule—it points upward.

“So the more we learn about creation, the more amazing God becomes.”

Dr. Tripp summarizes the impact of such wonder this way:

“Only when awe of God rules your heart will you be able to keep the pleasures of the material world in their proper place.”

So what’s the takeaway?

Let’s not be people who are afraid of science or beauty or deep questions. Let’s be the kind of people who follow awe all the way home—past the stars, past the cell walls, past the ocean depths—until it leads us to the feet of our Creator.

Because:

• We are created with a longing for awe, meant to be fulfilled by God.

• Creation’s wonders are signposts pointing us to the Creator.

• Letting awe stop at creation leads to emptiness; letting it lead us to God brings worship and joy.

• Awe of God should shape our daily lives and decisions.

Whether you’re a scientist in a lab coat, a parent at the kitchen sink, or a kid watching ants on the sidewalk, awe is knocking. Just make sure you let it point you up.

And like Dr. Tour, may you one day say with a smile,
“Oh... that’s how You did it.”

Faithfulness in the Fire: Trusting God’s Good Plan Through Hard Realities

 

 

There’s a quiet moment in The Natural where Iris says something profound:

    “I believe we have two lives—the life we learn with, and the life we live after that.”

It’s a simple line, but it speaks volumes about growth, awakening, and transformation. And honestly, it feels a lot like the Christian life.

When we come to Christ—when we confess Him as both Lord and Savior—we start living that second life. The life after. The one shaped by grace, guided by truth, and grounded in faith. But here’s the hard part: we still live in the same broken world. And often, we find ourselves asking, Why does it feel like I'm playing by the rules, but the world isn't?

The Christian life isn't always fair, and it’s not always easy. We’re called to walk in integrity, even when no one else around us seems to care. We’re called to take every thought captive, to love enemies, to forgive seventy times seven, to serve quietly, and to speak truth kindly. But sometimes we do all of that—and life still stings.

That’s why we need something deeper than fair-weather faith. We need what Admiral James Stockdale described in what became known as the Stockdale Paradox—the ability to confront brutal facts without losing hope. Stockdale survived unimaginable hardship as a POW in the Hanoi Hilton, and he did so by facing reality head-on—no sugarcoating—but with unwavering confidence that, in the end, he would prevail.

That mindset feels awfully close to the kind of trust God calls us to.

Take Joseph, for example. Sold into slavery by his own brothers, falsely accused, thrown in prison, forgotten. Talk about brutal facts. But years later, Joseph stood face-to-face with the very brothers who betrayed him and said this:

    "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good, to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives." (Genesis 50:20)

Joseph didn't deny the evil done to him—but he trusted in a God who could take what was meant for harm and turn it into healing. That’s not naïveté. That’s faith forged in fire.

Paul echoes that same truth in Romans 8:28:

    “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

Not some things. Not just the easy things. All things.

That doesn’t mean life becomes painless. It means that even in the pain, God is weaving something purposeful—something redemptive.

So what do we do in the meantime? How do we live faithfully while waiting for God’s greater plan to unfold?

We stay in the Word. We listen. We train. We remain faithful, just like the Bereans who examined everything in light of Scripture (Acts 17:11). We follow Ezra’s model in Ezra 7:10—he set his heart to study God’s law, to do it, and then to teach it.

That’s the rhythm of a discipler: learn, live, and pass it on.

And that’s our calling too. To keep planting seeds of truth, even in dry soil. To keep showing up in obedience, even when the road is thorny. To stay rooted in the reality of the cross, knowing that Sunday’s resurrection is coming.

In a world full of unfairness and contradiction, your faithfulness matters. It may not always get applause—but it’s not going unseen. God is at work, even in the things you’d never choose. Especially in those.

So hold fast. Confront the brutal facts. But never lose sight of this:
God is still writing a story that ends in life.