While I can’t seem to get into his long-form non-fiction, I’ve found myself quite enjoying N. D. Wilson’s more fictional or shorter stuff.  I recently rushed through the second and third entries in the Ashtown Burials series.  Much like his previous series, 100 Cupboards, the story is quite involved: invisible snakes, comatose parents, and a secret organization protecting the world from the threat of “transmortals.”  And yet there is something really engaging about the stories of Cyrus and Antigone Smith and the Order of Benedict.

Wilson has also started writing shorter non-fiction pieces for Christianity Today under the umbrella of “Mud Alive.”  Three have seen print so far.  The first, “To Tame the World,” is a nice piece about reality and our relationship to it.  The third piece, “The Dark-Tinted Truth-Filled Reading List We Owe Our Kids,” is exemplified in the “big bad” of Empire of Bones.  It’s the second one that gets me.  In “Our Love-Hate Relationship with Christian Art,” Wilson starts off with that queasy feeling some of us experience when talking about faith and the arts.  And then near the bottom of the first digital page of the article:

Christian art? Are you kidding me? Christianity has produced the greatest art of all time. Get some swagger, people, because we’re undefeated. Did a culture of atheism bring us Handel’s Messiah?Bach? What faith fed the Dutch masters? Give the cathedrals a glance and then find me better architecture. Have a listen to some American spirituals. To the blues. To gospel. Our brothers illuminated manuscripts (and don’t you forget it). Narnia. Hobbits. Folk songs. Symphonies. Through the history of the Christian church there runs a wide and roaring river of artistic glory, feeding believers and unbelievers alike.

And then some real encouragement:

Pursue excellence in your moment even when only he sees, because he always does. Strive to do better, to improve, to create glory, not because you fear catcalls from the bleachers of unbelief, but because the bar has been set so high by saints who have gone before, because you would love to be an accurate image of God, as true a reflection of his creativity as you can be. Take joy in your craft, lofty or lowly, because you would be like him.

You can read the entire essay here.  From there you can link to the other two entries.  The 100 Cupboards and Ashtown Burials can be found in most bookstores and online for order.