ThinkBlog

A couple of weeks ago I finished the Constance Garnett translation of The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor M. Dostoyevsky, and I am utterly blown away. For one, as Jared at Mysterium Tremendum has pointed out, you would never find this kind of thing in Christian bookstores today: it’s too “hardcore,” not enough feel-good exhortation and preachiness.

What is it about Christians today that we feel we have to back down from the intellectual forum without a disclaimer? I used to think I could never write anything, fiction or nonfiction, because if I didn’t want to put a “Christian spin” on it, I would feel like I wasn’t doing my duty as a child of God! So if my fiction didn’t end neatly or if it had instances of violence or vulgar language; or if a little piece on physics or some such science didn’t include some ontological disclaimer like “God set it in motion. Now, proceed,” I felt like I was doing something wrong.

What has happened these days? Why do Christians allow ourselves to be boxed in by culture and the times? It’s as if, in some circles, we take upon ourselves a scarlet cross emblazoned on our jackets (of our own volition, mind you!) before we take up a certain position. So when you pick up a Christian novel, or even a novel written by a Christian, it tends to be unrealistically optimistic about the present life and somewhat out of touch with the grit of the world. Kids these days aren’t just dealing with drug addiction and suicide: they’re dealing with a growing hostility toward all things Christian and with a propensity in the academic vernacular toward moral relativism. They’re not just dealing with temptations to “go too far” physically; some of them are dealing with how to handle the mental, emotional, and spiritual pressure of sexual mistakes they’ve made that have resulted in children that they love but nevertheless cannot support.

I am fascinated by redemptive stories, fiction and non-fiction, partly because I am one. If I were to write fiction again, I would write a redemptive novel like this one, likely, in which the sinful soul is purified by suffering and the justice of God. But it would be unlikely published: for if I started from a standpoint of real people–even Christians–who struggle with murderous thoughts, sexual temptations, compulsions, addictions, and financial messes, I would be turned down flat. At least, judging from what’s out there, that would be the case.

Have you, for instance, read any of the Left Behind series? I have, and let’s just put aside theological disagreements for the moment of dispensationalism versus covenantal theology and focus on the character development and the other aspects of fine literature. Videlicet, where is the character development, the personal struggles? Have you noticed that anyone in those novels under the age of 25 is likely to be a rebel, a punk, an infidel, a spy for the Antichristians, and whatnot? The plot is good, from a certain point of view; but the descriptions of the people, the settings, and everything–these are all paper thin and almost two-dimensional. I feel like I’m watching a cartoon on a black and white television set.

Why is that? Perhaps it’s because of the same scarlet disclaimer: “I’m a Christian writer, so I must have an agenda.” No, friends! Let us make solid claims and stand on the firm foundations of the intellects God gave us: the learning of the ages will not affect our faith if it does not strengthen it! I hope soon we can break free of this fear, this sense of encapsulated Christianity, and get back to penetrating writing–even fiction!–like The Brothers Karamazov.

A couple of weeks ago I finished the Constance Garnett translation of The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor M. Dostoyevsky, and I am utterly blown away. For one, as Jared at Mysterium Tremendum has pointed out, you would never find this kind of thing in Christian bookstores today: it’s too “hardcore,” not enough feel-good exhortation and preachiness.

What is it about Christians today that we feel we have to back down from the intellectual forum without a disclaimer? I used to think I could never write anything, fiction or nonfiction, because if I didn’t want to put a “Christian spin” on it, I would feel like I wasn’t doing my duty as a child of God! So if my fiction didn’t end neatly or if it had instances of violence or vulgar language; or if a little piece on physics or some such science didn’t include some ontological disclaimer like “God set it in motion. Now, proceed,” I felt like I was doing something wrong.

What has happened these days? Why do Christians allow ourselves to be boxed in by culture and the times? It’s as if, in some circles, we take upon ourselves a scarlet cross emblazoned on our jackets (of our own volition, mind you!) before we take up a certain position. So when you pick up a Christian novel, or even a novel written by a Christian, it tends to be unrealistically optimistic about the present life and somewhat out of touch with the grit of the world. Kids these days aren’t just dealing with drug addiction and suicide: they’re dealing with a growing hostility toward all things Christian and with a propensity in the academic vernacular toward moral relativism. They’re not just dealing with temptations to “go too far” physically; some of them are dealing with how to handle the mental, emotional, and spiritual pressure of sexual mistakes they’ve made that have resulted in children that they love but nevertheless cannot support.

I am fascinated by redemptive stories, fiction and non-fiction, partly because I am one. If I were to write fiction again, I would write a redemptive novel like this one, likely, in which the sinful soul is purified by suffering and the justice of God. But it would be unlikely published: for if I started from a standpoint of real people–even Christians–who struggle with murderous thoughts, sexual temptations, compulsions, addictions, and financial messes, I would be turned down flat. At least, judging from what’s out there, that would be the case.

Have you, for instance, read any of the Left Behind series? I have, and let’s just put aside theological disagreements for the moment of dispensationalism versus covenantal theology and focus on the character development and the other aspects of fine literature. Videlicet, where is the character development, the personal struggles? Have you noticed that anyone in those novels under the age of 25 is likely to be a rebel, a punk, an infidel, a spy for the Antichristians, and whatnot? The plot is good, from a certain point of view; but the descriptions of the people, the settings, and everything–these are all paper thin and almost two-dimensional. I feel like I’m watching a cartoon on a black and white television set.

Why is that? Perhaps it’s because of the same scarlet disclaimer: “I’m a Christian writer, so I must have an agenda.” No, friends! Let us make solid claims and stand on the firm foundations of the intellects God gave us: the learning of the ages will not affect our faith if it does not strengthen it! I hope soon we can break free of this fear, this sense of encapsulated Christianity, and get back to penetrating writing–even fiction!–like The Brothers Karamazov.