By Josiah DeGraaf
Perhaps one of the most difficult things to depict in Christian fiction is a realistic conversion.
You wouldn’t necessarily know that from the number of times they happen in Christian fiction. But a lot of the time, when a conversion is attempted, I can’t help but be disappointed by the event. Not because I don’t like to see conversions. But because I want to see them done well.
A lot of the time, it seems like something ends up missing from the picture. The decision is made too quickly in a way that seems hasty and out-of-character. The decision is based on a reason too simple—like one bad thing going wrong, or one mini-sermon from a Christian character suddenly completely changing an atheist who has been strongly believing one thing his whole life.
There’s a tendency to know ahead of time what’s going to be coming when an atheist walks onto the stage of a Christian novel. And so it becomes kind of bland and uneventful when he actually does convert.
There is, perhaps, a strange sense of irony that one of the best conversions I’ve seen exhibited in fiction was in a work written by a deist. But Jean Valjean’s conversion at the beginning of Les Miserables wins high marks for me for its ability to show a conversion that is incredibly convincing and incredibly passionate. And this got me to thinking: what is it about many conversions in Christian fiction that causes them not to work well? And what can we do as writers to avoid those problems when writing conversion scenes?
Why Stories are Powerful
Before we answer these questions, we’re going to have to take a step back to consider what a novel itself is and how it’s supposed to have a strong theme and message.
Frank Capra once famously said concerning storytelling, that “if you want to send a message, try Western Union.” But if a story has nothing of actual value to impart—if it embodies no eternal truths in it—what’s the point of the story?
That being said, literature is going to give a message in a different way than a sermon or a speech. Sermons and speeches rely on the power of carefully-constructed reasons and intellectual arguments to convince someone of a certain point. But I think we all probably innately recognize the difference between a sermon and a story.
Where a sermon relies on intellectual arguments, stories—and particularly novels—rely on powerful mental images and the inner lives of characters to showcase a point. The classic writing adage of “show, don’t tell,” should come to mind here.
The role of emotions in storytelling
In a fascinating article entitled The Novel as Protestant Art, Joseph Bottum writes that, “Feelings and internal consciousness become more than important—they become vital—in the modern turn to the self. This is what the novel as an art form emerged to address, and what the novel as an art form encouraged into ever-greater growth. The inner life, self-consciousness as self-understanding, becomes the manifestation of virtue and the path for grasping salvation.”
The novel as a literary form is built on the ability to get inside a person’s mind and see his emotions and inner struggles as he goes through life, which is why some of the greatest novels—Count of Monte Cristo, Tale of Two Cities, Brothers Karamazov, etc.—are those that heavily emphasize these factors.
Often, these internal changes within a character over the course of a novel are called character arcs—and these character arcs are primarily not intellectual ones. Rather, they emphasize the emotions and feelings of a character in their internal structures, although intellectual struggles are not abandoned.
Given this, when writing a conversion, it is important to keep in mind that the novel as an art form does not readily lend itself to great intellectual arguments and speeches. It’s more focused on emotions and the inner life, and a realistic conversion must therefore look at these elements if we are to portray it in a way that befits the genre. Having a character convert just because he heard a really good speech for why God has to exist probably isn’t going to be convincing because of that.
Using the Character Arc As a Model
In order to portray a conversion in a way which befits the genre, we must look at the character arc as a guide for writing a realistic conversion.
For those who may be less familiar with character arcs, a character arc is basically the process by which a character changes his values and behavior to reflect greater conformity to an all-important truth. This could be a move from despair to hope, from anger to peace, from fear to courage, from voluptuousness to self-control.
Well-done character arcs are often those that explore these themes to the greatest amounts by pushing the character right up to the brink. If a character is to learn how to hope, if we want to tell a good story, we can’t just give him an easy ride by giving him little things to despair about. Rather, if we are to fully explore the importance of hope, we’re going to have to show the character the worst of despair—to bring him to the place where hope couldn’t be any further away—before finally bringing him back to once again see that hope can still exist even in a darkened world.
This then lends us valuable aid in how to craft a realistic conversion. If we want to show our readers how valuable Christ is, we can’t get away with just having a character believe because God was simply the more rational option, or because it was merely a slightly better option than being an atheist. No—if we want to truly show it in an impactful way we’re going to have to show the depths of despair that will occur without Christ.
In the case of Les Miserables, this is done by showing the audience Valjean’s absolute confusion about the grace given him by a bishop, a grace that does not—cannot—fit into his own worldview, a grace that blows his previous worldview to smithereens and leads him to fully accept the Gospel.
Of course, this should come as little surprise to us, that such is the way to realistically portray a conversion in fiction. And why is that? It is because the Bible already points to this truth. Look at Ephesians 2 and how Paul describes our conversion process. He describes us as being dead in our sins, ruled by the prince of darkness, without hope and without God in the world.
To come to Christ, we must acknowledge our need of a Savior. And we cannot acknowledge our need of a Savior without realizing the depths of our own sinfulness. Our sin drives us to Christ as the only possible way to relieve us from our sin.
Crafting a Convincing Conversion
How then do we craft a convincing conversion? We do it by faithfully portraying reality in a way that is consistent with the genre of fiction. We guide a character’s internal struggles to a point where he can’t solve his own struggles any other way, where he sees the inadequacies of any other route, and where the only viable solution to his struggles is to turn to Christ for an answer. When done well it works beautifully in fiction. And it works beautifully because it conforms to reality.
Writing realistic conversions is a difficult process. Real-life conversions are complex, tend to defy categorization, and are only accomplished through the work of the Holy Spirit. And so, to the extent that fiction in some way mirrors reality, fictional conversions will therefore have to be carefully crafted, carefully tuned, and carefully developed. But by following standard writing techniques and using biblical principles, it is possible to write a realistic conversion.
As Christian fiction writers, we have the opportunity to depict an amazing supernatural event in our novels.
Let’s make sure that we take advantage of, rather than squander, this opportunity.
Wonderful insight. I long to see more thoughtful conversions that really take the character arc into account, like you pointed out, instead of being tacked on carelessly. Conversion is truly one of the most beautiful climaxes in a story!
Thank you. THANK YOU. I needed this right now. In the past, I have tended to avoid conversions in my novels ever since I wrote a conversion, went back and read it, and nearly threw the whole story in the trash. I wrote that story a long time ago, and I think my problem was that I thought there was a set way to do conversions, and in my small minded unoriginality faithfully followed that stereotype. I still weave themes of despair and hope in God through my stories, but I have not attempted another conversion since. And frankly, I don’t know if I ever will again, because all ten novels I am scheduled to write after I finish the one I’m on are fantasies, but if I do write another real life story, I will remember this article, and try my best to make it as real and powerful and fresh as possible. Thank you again.
This is excellently put. While I cannot say I’ve read many novels like that myself, I suspect that’s because I’m Czech and simply don’t have access to the excess of Christian novels you do have in America… What I do have access to is fanfiction, and goodness, yes. When fanfiction deals with faith, it way too often does so in a formulaic, sermonic way; I’ve also come across an otherwise very good story where the emotional and inner arc suddenly gave way to a treatise around the moment of conversion, and it felt like such a letdown.
Someone once told me that it takes on average five people telling someone about God before someone is ready. I’m not sure how they arrived at that, but from what I’ve heard and read of actual conversions, I feel like it often is the case – not necessarily a specific number of individual people, but bits and pieces settling in one’s consciousness before something happens that gives the final impulse. So I really cannot buy into a single speech doing the trick: not unless there’s the hand of Holy Spirit at work. In which case no, just an intellectual argument won’t cut it. (Paul in Athens, anyone?)
One of my favourite Christian novels from those I have read is by Gerd Theissen – apparently translated into English as “The Shadow of the Galilean: The Quest of the Historical Jesus in Narrative Form”. It’s a story of a man in Jesus’ time tasked with learning as much as possible about Him by the Romans, who collects all the arguments and counterarguments people have about Him in a very intellectual manner (kind of boring for most of the book)… only to be overcome by events and finally come to believe in Him in a very emotional culmination that has little to do with that except for finally giving sense to it. (Warning: most of the book is a play on academic methods; my grandma didn’t like it that much and didn’t like the protagonist, so it’s defnitely a matter of personal taste whether you’d enjoy it.)
Another novel that comes to mind is Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz.
Hi,
My question isn’t directly related to this artcile, but I was wondering if you guys ever plan on writing an article on writing Christian themes in fantasy novels?
Hey Ashley; good question! Just to clarify, what exactly do you have in mind with that question? Are you more talking about how to write Christian themes in novels in general, or are there specific aspects of the fantasy genre that you think make including themes in it different from including themes in other genres?
Well in general, I think it’s harder to incorporate Christian themes in scifi and fantasy novels and was wondering if you guys have any tips on doing this. But I also wouldn’t mind an article on just writing Christian themes in any type of novel.
Hey Ashley, I’m not a writing expert, but I just read your comment and recognized something I went through not too long ago. Something I realized when I was in the process of thinking through how I could write a fantasy novel that portrayed Christianity without becoming an allegory, was that your characters don’t need to have a Christian worldview to portray and explore Christian themes. You can explore the concept of mercy; of love; and of sacrifice with them, because human nature is human nature whether or not you live in a perfectly ordinary world, a galactic space station, or some make believe world whose laws and creatures and religions are not even remotely similar to our own. Mercy does not change, nor does cruelty. The nature of jealousy and the nature of forgiveness are just as they would be in our world. So also it is with every other feeling. Sacrifice is still sacrifice, and selfishness is still selfishness. Show your reader these things through the eyes of your characters, and let your reader wonder at the enormity of love, and of sacrifice. Even if you have a godless, irreligious villain for a main character, you can still have him learn what it is to receive mercy. Even love.
Thank you for your imput. I’m glad I’m not the only one who has struggled wtih this.
Thanks for clarifying, Ashley. And great thought, Kate! You summed up a lot of what I had to say. I will merely add, Ashley, that I wrote a series of posts on this topic on my personal writing advice blog last year, so if you’re interested in reading more, I wrote a lot about different aspects of that topic there: http://worldpen.net/category/tips/theme-tips/ I’m a fantasy writer myself, so a lot of my illustrations and thought processes tend to come from there. Hope that helps!
Thank you!