Guest Post: Read No Evil, Write No Evil?

This week I’m stoked to have a guest post from a good friend and talented writer, Abby Jones, from the blog gentleandquiet.com. I met Abby through another writing friend from the blog strokemanswoman. Before I met her face-to-face, I read the prologue to her (as yet) unpublished book. A book about Vampires. Can’t say I’ve ever had an interest in such stories but I knew that—though the story would be dark—there would be redeeming qualities because my new friend loved Christ.

To be honest, what I read disturbed me. A prologue isn’t the place for the redemptive elements to glister. The purpose is to set up for the conflict that is to come in the main body of work. Between a vampire with a stash of blood in the fridge, and a serial killer on the loose, I was swallowed into a very dark world from the get go. Though the darkness was descriptive, and it wasn’t gratuitous, it plunged into a deeper, creepier pit than most books I choose to read. I was curious as to how Abby would weave the light into the darkness as the story progressed.

Well, many conversations and writing critique groups later, I continue to be amazed at Abby’s ability to wrestle with the concepts of good and evil, dark and light—and the greater idea of salvation. When I read the quote below from Madeleine L’engle, I knew I needed to have Abby address the ideas that it brought out. Especially when one considers how the talents people have been gifted with, from singing to sculpting to writing, are not always used to glorify God.

Have you seen the amount of vampire fiction gracing the shelves these days? (In Abby’s defense, she was writing her vampire story before the Twilight craze!). So many dark stories that are being cranked out and cashed in. This is true with urban fantasy, dystopia, steam punk and all those other ‘edgy’ genres. What’s a Christian reader or writer to make of this phenomenon? Jump on the bandwagon? Run away and label it all evil—not to be seen, heard, or spoken? How can we be discerning?

I hope you will be challenged, like I am, to think about how we view others (“She’s a Christian and she’s reading that?”) and how we come at our own writing (not being afraid to expose evil) . . . even if you don’t read or write about characters with fangs.

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“We would like God’s ways to be like our ways, his judgments to be like our judgments. It is hard for us to understand that he lavishly gives enormous talents to people we would consider unworthy, that he chooses his artists with as calm a disregard of surface moral qualifications as he chooses his saints.” 

“…I [don’t] want to tell God (or my friends) where he can and cannot be seen. We human beings far too often tend to codify God, to feel that we know where he is and where he is not, and this arrogance leads to such things as the Spanish Inquisitions and Salem witch burnings and is the result of further fragmenting an already broken Christendom.

“We live by revelation, as Christians, as artists, which means that we must be careful never to get set into rigid molds. The minute we begin to think we know all the answers, we forget the questions, and become smug like the Pharisee who listed all his considerable virtues and thanked God that he was not like other men.” Madeleine L’Engle Walking on Water

 

When I was in college, over ten years ago now, my Dad taught a worldview class for the high school and college kids at our church. We compared a Christian worldview with naturalism, empiricism, rationalism, communism, and such. Dad taught us that there was no such thing to the Christian as a separation between the Christian and Secular world. We should be bringing our Christianity to the world, not constantly looking down our noses at the less than holy world out there. In another words, sometimes we must swallow our pride and realize God gave some pretty amazing talent to people who will never worship Him with it. I often think of one of my favorite writers, Neil Gaiman. The man has a way with words. He writes beautiful stories. He isn’t a Christian.

As a Christian, I could choose to ignore the gift God has given him. He’s not a Christian, after all. Or I can worship God in thankfulness for the gift that He gave this man who didn’t deserve it. I can enjoy the gift even if Gaiman isn’t trying to honoring his creator.

It can be humbling to realize your Father in heaven gave a man who hates Him such a wonderful gift while you, the child who loves Him, struggle to honor Him with every word you write. You struggle to get the book done, get it published, and have any bit of success. Why does God do this? Why does He choose to lavish a gift on a man who hasn’t honored Him?

God’s ways aren’t our ways.

I know there are deeper, more theological, answers than that, but it is important to start with the idea that we aren’t the creator, we aren’t in charge, and God is not us.

I thought I had a good hold on this concept. I enjoyed the gifts God had given to Christians and non-Christians alike. I humbly trusted God’s way of doing things, and tried to sharpen my own writing gift. Because I believe there is nothing secular, that the arts are in need of Christians just like all walks of life, and because I read Dracula and watched Vampire Hunter D at an impressionable age, I turned to writing Urban Fantasy with a vampire culture.

This was a bit before the Twilight craze, so please don’t read sparkling. 🙂 This stage of my writing included lots of darkness. Not, like personal darkness, but I explored dark places in my world. One of my pastors described grace as the Undeserved Rescue. I instantly wanted to show the undeserved rescue of a monster. I had to create a monster to save. I had to make him dark before I could give him light. I took this theme and connected it with my fascination for law enforcement, crime, and specifically serial killers and mass murderers.

My world, for about five years, revolved around some of the scariest, darkest, most violent men who have walked this earth. I tried to not go so far as to steep myself in it like a water-logged tea bag, but I definitely slipped a few times, seeing things I probably would have been better off not seeing.

As I created my world, I damned some of my killers to justice and saved others. I created real monsters, whether they sucked blood from the white neck of a maid or not. I enjoyed using the vampire mythos to show the effects of sin. (Here’s where having a Christian worldview can change something ‘worldly’ to something beautiful.) When I saved vampires who then had to struggle against the thirst forever, it became a wonderful, subtle analogy to the believers struggle with sin as long as we walk this earth. Vampires, even saved ones, must drink the blood of what they once were to survive.

I loved working with creatures that had to fight the thirst. I still live in this flesh and walk this earth. I still struggle against sin, and sometimes, lots of times, I fail. I’m a sinner saved by grace. That’s why I enjoyed writing about vampires. But I enjoyed writing about saved monsters even more.

Again, I thought I had a good hold on this…until one day.

“We would like God’s ways to be like our ways, his judgments to be like our judgments. It is hard for us to understand that he lavishly gives enormous talents to people we would consider unworthy, that he chooses his artists with as calm a disregard of surface moral qualifications as he chooses his saints.” 

Doing some research one morning on Jeffrey Dahmer, I read that he professed faith before he was killed in prison. Anger instantly blossomed in my chest. How could God save such a man? How could he save such a monster? How could I go to heaven and hug such a man as a brother???

Even as the thoughts passed through my head, I cried out. How was I any different? How can I expect my sins to be covered if Christ’s blood couldn’t cover the worst of the worst? A friend for sinners, right? Seeking and saving the lost, right? Isn’t that what Christ came to do, save sinners?  After all my own carefully crafted undeserved rescues, dark monsters, justice and mercy held out to both, I’m the one not willing to see Jeffrey Dahmer saved? I was humbled and mortified by my own pride. I, of all people, should be the most willing to hug this man.

Christ saves sinners. Humbled and grateful, I went back to saving my little monsters knowing Christ could save the big ones.

So, dear writers, save sinners. Don’t look at the gifts of the unbelieving and pine for their short term, earthbound success. Don’t slack off in polishing and training the gift God has given you just because there are rumors that getting into a ‘Christian’ market is easier. What you need to do is weave truth, weave salvation into your books. Take on the darkness with light! Save sinners.

Don’t try to force God to be you. You are too little. Salvation is the greatest story ever told. Tell it.

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I’ve moved away from some of my darker tales for a time. I’m working on some children’s stories and some fairytales for the moment. But, even there the theme of God saving sinners is shining through. It’s my greatest need, and the world’s greatest need. We don’t need better politicians, less war, or a healthier environment. We need salvation from sin.

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Allow me to add a P.S. to this post. Providentially, another writing friend just posted a similar blog that gave a very balanced treatment to how Christians should approach mainstream media and art. It would be well worth your time to click on the simmeringmind and see what’s percolating over there!