A reader might reasonably ask why a postmillennial Christian would write a series about a society coming apart. If I expect Christ’s kingdom to advance in history, why spend so much time imagining an outbreak, violence, and the failure of familiar institutions?

I don’t see a contradiction. Confidence in Christ’s kingdom does not require me to expect every nation to improve steadily or every generation to avoid catastrophe. A community can suffer a terrible loss without settling the outcome of history. The people who remain still have work to do, and their children still have a future to consider.

That is part of what interests me about survival fiction. A disaster puts people under pressure, but it also forces them to decide what they believe about the work ahead. Will they try to preserve only enough to last another week? Can they begin building something their children may need? What responsibilities continue when they cannot expect a quick recovery?

What I mean by postmillennial hope

Postmillennialism concerns Christ’s kingdom and its advance in history before His return. Christians who hold that view differ on details, but their expectation involves the success of Christ’s gospel and the discipling of the nations. They do not all expect the same political developments or agree about the timing of particular events.

My confidence begins with Christ’s authority. In Matthew 28:18–20, He declares His authority and commands His disciples to make disciples of the nations, teaching obedience to His commands. First Corinthians 15:25 describes His reign until He has put His enemies under His feet. I read those passages within a postmillennial understanding of Christ’s kingdom; other Christians reach different conclusions about the millennium.

I would not use that confidence to promise a character safety or treat his preferred political program as the fulfillment of Scripture. He still needs to judge his own conduct. He can be right to hope for the future and wrong about what faithfulness requires from him today.

Why collapse can fit that outlook

The Unrestrained begins with a fictional outbreak. The initial danger requires Daniel Mercer to protect his family and help people survive. As the story continues, the survivors face questions about order, authority, work, and the people beyond their refuge.

Those questions let me follow something that matters to my outlook: the responsibility to begin again after a loss. A person who expects Christ to remain at work has reasons to teach his children, care for neighbors, establish fair arrangements, and correct a wrong even when circumstances make the immediate benefit hard to see.

I don’t need the characters to believe that they will personally restore everything. In fact, that expectation could make a leader dangerous. He might begin to treat other people as obstacles to the future he imagines. The story needs to examine that temptation as carefully as it examines despair.

Rebuilding takes more than resolve

A community can call itself Christian and still act unjustly. Its leaders can speak about a better future while refusing to hear someone they have wronged. Families can invoke the next generation while teaching their children habits of fear, resentment, and contempt.

I want the series to take those failures seriously. Hope in Christ should give the characters reason to repent and correct their work. It should make them more willing to accept responsibilities they find inconvenient and less willing to excuse themselves because their cause seems important.

That also affects how I think about authority. I want people who can protect a community and make difficult decisions. I also want limits that keep them from assuming God’s promises authorize whatever they consider necessary. Their responsibility to serve does not make their judgment final.

What readers can expect from the series

I write survival thrillers, so readers should expect danger, practical problems, action, and relationships that affect the choices people make. The theological perspective should help explain those choices without requiring a speech every time a character acts.

Readers looking for postmillennial fiction may particularly appreciate the attention to rebuilding and inheritance. Readers who hold another view can still follow the story and judge the decisions on the page. I want the series to give both groups enough reason to care what happens to these people and what they will leave behind.

Learn about the series’ Reformed Christian perspective, read why I wrote The Unrestrained, or begin with High Ground on Amazon.