Is Your Son ‘God’s Mighty Warrior’?

Will, God’s Mighty Warrior by Sheila Walsh, Ages 4-7, 32pgs.

“This book is a favorite with my boys, 2 and 5. They really like Will’s adventures, and seem to ‘get’ the message behind the book, which is the importance of the Armor of God to success in life’s challenges.” –Sarah M., Amazon.com review

Fathers Day is upon us, and once again we ask, “Where are we going out to eat?”  Ok, so maybe that’s just my family.  But seriously, I think in some ways, one reason I’m less inclined to think great thoughts about dad-hood is because the role of a father seems harder to define.  Women, after all, can wear skirts and pants.  But men seem to require a sharper point.

For that reason, I appreciated both Janie’s reflection on fatherhood in her post Tuesday, as well as Douglas Bond’s words of wisdom in our recent podcast.  Oddly enough, I had planned to address some of the same issues in this post—the absence of fathers in literature, for instance.  As Janie pointed out in her post, absence of father means vulnerability, so it’s really no surprise that fathers—particularly good dads—aren’t welcome in many kids’ books.

Even so, in a recent Wall Street Journal article, I was surprised to see that author Sherman Alexie was so open about his goal of stepping between his readers and their fathers.  His hope to teach them and foster them—ironically in much the same way a good father would do—against the influence of their guardians.  Here’s part of what he said in the WSJ.com:

Two years ago, I met a young man attending one of the most elite private high schools in the country. He quietly spoke to me of his agony. What kind of pain could a millionaire’s child be suffering? He hadn’t been physically or sexually abused. He hadn’t ever been hungry. He’d never seen one person strike another in anger. He’d never even been to a funeral.

So what was his problem?

“I want to be a writer,” he said. “But my father won’t let me. He wants me to be a soldier. Like he was.”

He was seventeen and destined to join the military. Yes, he was old enough to die and kill for his country. And old enough to experience the infinite horrors of war. But according to Ms. Gurdon, he might be too young to read a YA novel that vividly portrays those very same horrors.

“I don’t want to be like my father,” that young man said. “I want to be myself. Just like in your book.”

I felt powerless in that moment. I could offer that young man nothing but my empathy and the promise of more books about teenagers rescuing themselves from the adults who seek to control and diminish him.

This may seem like a very strange beginning for a review of a kids picture book.  Especially one so cutesy and Christian-conservative as Will, God’s Mighty Warrior.  Yet, kids’ picture books are illuminating because they put things in terms that are really foundational.  You can often trace a trajectory stretching from their simple plots all the way to the William Faulkners or Dostoevskys or even the Sherman Alexies among us.

Some of you may remember that my first review in this series was Gigi, God’s Little Princess.  I was a little critical, not so much of what it taught—that little girls who love Jesus are daughters of the King of heaven—but for what it doesn’t teach: that such a relationship has a cost, namely submission to God, and that beauty and privilege are two of the biggest idols American girls will face in our lives.  Being God’s little princess isn’t just about affirmation.  It’s also about sacrifice, about letting God make us beautiful, often through pain and self-sacrifice.

In Will, God’s Mighty Warrior, I could make a similar criticism.  The plot of the story is described this way by the publisher, “Meet Will, a fearless, loveable superhero. Well, at least in his imagination. He can leap tall buildings–from his bed. And he can rescue his sister from the jaws of a ferocious beast–his dog, Ralph! Complete with cape and sword, Will’s adventures take him on dangerous missions through the jungle–his backyard. But when he gets confused by the meaning of God’s armor, his dad teaches him that he can do anything with God’s strength and protection. After all, he is God’s Mighty Warrior!”

God’s role in our life isn’t primarily wish fulfillment.  It’s not to provide us armor so that we can win our battles.  The Lord of all Creation, as C.S. Lewis put it, “is not a tame lion,” and while He does bring meaningfulness and significance to our lives, again there is a cost.  There is a cross to bear, and it will cost us everything before it truly liberates us.

All that said, however, there is something profoundly right about these two books.  In a world of authors and readers who have been hurt by sinful human fathers, they say, “Look up.”  They tell readers, “You have a Heavenly Father who is the source of every good and precious gift we have on earth.”  In the case of Gigi, He is our beauty.  He is our robe of righteousness.  In the case of Will, He is our sword and shield.

It’s true, I prefer R. C. Sproul’s The Prince’s Poison Cup when it comes to presenting children with an idea both of Christ and manly self-sacrifice, but this book offers its readers a similar diamond in the rough.  The Christian—whether 5 years old or 75 years old—will never outgrow the dependence of a child, sitting on her Father’s knee, waiting for her loving Father to fill her open, empty hands.  And that lesson–along with the super-sweet illustrations–will make Will and Gigi a treasure for many families.

As for Mr. Alexie, my heart aches for him and the torture he experienced at the hands of his protectors.  (You can read about them in Janie’s post, Turn on the Light.)  But I can’t help wondering if he meant himself as one of “the adults who seek to control and diminish” young readers?  But then, we never think of ourselves that way, do we?  Not until the Holy Spirit opens our eyes, at least.

I am grateful, however, that although he rages in his literature and life, he has made it his life’s work to be a father-figure to young readers hurt by those who should have protected them.  And that in so doing he projects a small reflection of the ideal he seeks to crush–that of a loving father in heaven who offered His Son, something far greater than “more stories,” to heal and defend His broken children.

Don’t forget to check back Friday for our interview with Jonathan Rogers, author of The Charlatan’s Boy.  Still a few more days left in our Father’s Day contest, too.  So type a few nice words in the comments here about a father you love–even from literature–and you stand a good chance of winning free books!  And stay tuned, since next week we’ll help you get your kids ready for a memorable Independence Day celebration.

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