The tide has turned against
Christianity. This is true in many areas of modern culture, but
particularly so in the artistic community. At a rare best, we find
modern literature, film, and art ambivalent toward Christianity. In
most cases, however, there seems to be a growing sense of actual
hostility toward the faith. Although in America this persecution is
rarely physical, this does not discount the intellectual and cultural
antagonism toward Christ and His followers. Christians with artistic
gifts are hard-pressed to find their output taken seriously—their
beliefs seem to disqualify them from serious consideration.
Thus as
writers and Christians, we find ourselves as a persecuted minority
and accordingly, we find ourselves taking a defensive posture. We do
not enjoy the luxury of a prevailing worldview amicable to Biblical
truths. We are the odd men out. We are the ones pushing against the
system. If we cease our struggling, we will be carried away in the
current.
In response to this cultural hostility,
Christians find themselves under the burden to reach out through this
opposition and bring the light of Christ into the darkness. For
believers who are called to politics, this means striving to
implement Biblical standards into their execution of law. For those
in business, this means a staunch commitment to ethical dealings. For
the layman, this means an unabashed witness to the saving grace of
Jesus in one’s life. For the writer (and indeed the artist in
general), this means glorifying God in one’s work.
Yet this not as
simple as it may appear. Many authors operate under the idea that
their duty as Christians is to produce “Christian books”—meaning
books which deal chiefly and explicitly with redemption and the
gospel message. They are guided by their conviction that the world
needs the gospel worked into novel form. Yet often with this emphasis
toward a “message,” the quality of the literature is no longer
considered. I have read many books by well-meaning Christian authors
in which the dichotomy between the good and evil is incredibly
simplistic, where conversion is as quick and easy as blinking, and
where characters speak as if reading a sermon. This is not to mention
the wooden characterization and the inferiority of the dialogue.
However noble their endeavors, these Christian authors have
sacrificed much for the pedantic communication of their message, and
in so doing have largely discredited their own work.
At the risk of splitting linguistic
hairs, I wish to propose a distinction between “Christian writers”
and “writers who are Christians.” My concern is that in regard to
literature, the title “Christian” has drifted from a noun to
merely an adjective. In other words, rather than emphasizing truly
excellent literature, the Church seems to be looking for books in
which characters are converted, salvation is preached, and evil is
redeemed completely. Please don’t misunderstand—there is nothing
wrong with this per se. Indeed, many talented writers have written
about these experiences with true literary excellence. My point is
merely that by and large, ‘Christian writing’ has become its own
genre—and a mediocre one at that. Unable to compete with the
standards of the artistic community at large (however far removed
from a Christian worldview), the Christians have created a genre of
their own in which quality hinges on the efficacy of the message.
There is no emphasis on the excellence of the writing itself.
Instead of striving after literary principles which have guided
the best authors—many of them Christians—we put an unnatural bent
toward overt communication. I would argue that one of the most
powerful “messages” a Christian author can communicate is the
actual story. Any message, however truthful or pertinent,
will fall flat if the message itself is the sole impetus of the work.
Art cannot be driven by ulterior motives—to do so strips the work
of all its power and reduces the gospel to sheer propaganda.
What our dying world needs is
writers—writers who are in fact Christians. We need young
men and woman eager to cultivate their creative powers as they study
to learn the mechanics of their calling—a solid story arch,
meticulous character development, unique literary themes, precise
subtleties, concrete details, beautiful language, and a cohesion and
genuineness within the tale itself. After this technique, if the
writer finds that a strong sense of redemption or conversion bubbles
out from the very heart of story, then the writer must embrace it
wholeheartedly.
Such a writer has a daunting challenge before him—to
communicate these themes in a fresh and genuine way—but they have
risen organically from story and are thus fitting. Ultimately,
however there is no fault in simply telling a story. In fact,
this is where the true merit of the writer lies. We must never turn
our creativity into a cheap platform for our message. Our art must
speak with its own voice, and this requires skill coupled with
training.
