By E. G. Runyan



I thought I saw how stories of this kind could sneak past a certain inhibition which had paralyzed much of my own religion in childhood. Why did one find it so hard to feel as one was told one ought to feel about God or the sufferings of Christ? I thought the chief reason was that one was told one ought to. An obligation to feel can freeze feelings. And reverence itself did harm. The whole subject was associated with lowered voices; almost as if it were something medical. But supposing that by casting all these things into an imaginary world, stripping them of their stained-glass and Sunday school associations, one could make them for the first time appear in their true potency? Could one not thus steal past those watchful dragons? I thought one could.

C. S. Lewis

Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What’s to be Said


When C. S. Lewis published The Chronicles of Narnia, he had done something that few had done before him. He had captured the spirit of truth and of the gospel and embodied it in a meaningful story. What he was explaining in the quote from his paper “Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What’s to be Said” was that sometimes, especially for children and young people, it’s hard to feel as they’re told they “ought to feel” about God, Christ, and truth. 

We’re told that Jesus died for us and that we should trust in him and follow him, but at times it feels impersonal and far off from the happy lightheartedness of youth.

But what if there was a way to slip past the rules and obligations that children and teenagers struggle with, and help them see how important the truth really is? What if there was a way to take those rules and obligations and make them appealing, meaningful, relatable, and beautiful? Could we not thus steal past those watchful dragons who are blocking us from the “true potency” of the truth?

C. S. Lewis thought one could. That’s what he achieved with his Chronicles of Narnia series.

Let’s see if we can, too.



These Stories “Sneak Past a Certain Inhibition”


We hear stories and passages from the Bible over and over again, and we know the general moral we’re supposed to learn from them. In the story of Noah’s Ark, we learn the importance of listening to God. In the story of Abraham, we learn about following God through everything. In the story of Joseph, we learn about the power of forgiveness.

People often make the mistake of thinking they’ve learned it all. Once they’ve read a book of the Bible, they think they’ve learned all there is to know about it.

But if we put some of these eternal truths into a story—pretend though it may be—could we see these truths in a new light? Could we grow to understand them at a completely new level? While once listening to a lesson by writer and director Josiah DeGraaf with the Young Writer’s Workshop, something he said struck me: that stories can force us to see things we’ve always known in a completely new way. 

People can have known a truth all their lives, but if you can illustrate it in a story, it can force them to look at it in a way that never occurred to them and never would have if it hadn’t been shown to them. Like Andrew Peterson says, “If you want to tell someone the truth, tell them. If you want them to love the truth, tell them a story.”



Why we find it so hard to feel as we ought to feel about God or the sufferings of Christ”


I am a contrarian.

When someone tells me “This is how you should feel about this thing” my first tendency is to do the opposite of what they’re asking.

And believe me, I’m not the only one like this. Quite a lot of the world is made up of contrarians, and when people start telling them what to do and how they should feel, they immediately turn around and do exactly the things they’ve been told not to.

There are a lot of preachy books out there. Though they may be well-meaning, they aren’t doing us much good; they’re only telling us half of what we need to hear. Oftentimes they’re telling us what we should do and not why we should be doing it.

C. S. Lewis said, “The world does not need more Christian literature. What it needs is more Christians writing good literature.”

Not to say that there is anything wrong with Christian literature. When done well, Christian literature can be exceptional, and powerful, and it can help many people. The point I’m making here is that people don’t want to be preached at. In fact, they’re probably going to become more convinced if they’re given a small prompt and are left to discover the truth for themselves. A powerful story is a great way to give someone a prompt toward that truth.



Stripping Them of Their Stained-Glass and Sunday School Associations”


People from all over wrote Lewis letters, telling him how much they loved The Chronicles of Narnia. One woman wrote him upset because her little son had said that he loved Aslan more than Jesus. Lewis wrote back, simply explaining to her that the traits that her son loved in Aslan were precisely the things he would love about Jesus one day.

Do you see here what Lewis had done? Through his story, he had, though indirectly, caused this young boy to start to love the character of Jesus Christ. 

And that, my friend, is the exact thing we must tap into in our own stories: making the reader begin to love the truth and the things of God.

We may be “stripping them of their stained-glass and Sunday school associations”, but that doesn’t mean they can be any less powerful or any less used by God. God can work anything to his glory, including any story we write for him.



One Could Make Them For the First Time Appear In Their True Potency”


A couple of years ago I read a short novel that had been written by two Christians, a husband, and wife. This novel was on the subject of dating and courtship.

The characters in this story were unrealistic and unrelatable. The messages were impractical and sometimes even unwise.

Overall this story amused and slightly irritated me with its overly dogmatic mindset, but in regards to the subject of dating and courtship and how that applies to my life, it didn’t help me at all. The story was preachy, overbearing, and bossy. Because of this, I found it difficult to accept even the good advice in the story. It was hard to sort through what was actually helpful, and what was born out of the authors’ personal fear.

As opposed to that, I have a clear and very special memory of lying in my room one night listening to The Horse and His Boy on audio. It was the scene where Shasta has been separated from his company and is traveling through the night. Suddenly he hears loud breathing beside him, and at once is terrified that something is walking alongside him. That thing happens to be Aslan. 

As Shasta pours out his disgruntled and frightened heart to the great beast, and as Aslan responds with wisdom and truth, it suddenly occurred to me that I could do that too. Like Shasta, I could pour out my heart, be they silly worries or big ones, to the Father who watches over me and who will always give me wisdom. 

All at once my heart was filled with love for this great God who had given everything for me, and I prayed right then and there, thanking God for everything he had done for insignificant me.

The scene from that story showed me something I had either forgotten or never fully realized: that I could really and truly talk to God personally, like a friend. It made it more meaningful to me than if it had simply been told to me by somebody. It made it personal. It showed me for the first time that particular truth in its “true potency”.



Could One Not Thus Steal Past Those Watchful Dragons?”


The dragons of rules and obligations are always awake and watchful. But with wisdom and prayer, we can steal past them. In writing and crafting powerful, honest stories we can help our readers see the truth in new ways, or even begin the journey in their hearts of a love of the truth and of Jesus Christ.

What are some simple ways to start writing these kinds of stories?

  • First of all, you have to show and not tell. Perhaps you have heard this advice before. It’s excellent advice, and the key to keeping your story from being preachy is to show the truth to the reader. Not to tell them.
  • Second of all, you have to make your story deep. You have to create a problem that we actually care about, and characters that we actually feel for.
  • Third, you must be relatable. Think about your target audience and write your story accordingly, doing your best to create scenarios and issues that they can relate to.
    “Could one not thus steal past those watchful dragons? I thought one could.”


How will you guide your readers past those dragons?



E. G. Runyan

E. G. Runyan has been telling stories almost as long as she can remember, and though she does not like to eat her words, she does like writing them down.  Inside her head are a great deal of plots, twists, and plot twists that manage to come out comprehensively in stories.  She spends most of her time dreaming up tall tales, spending time with her family, and wishing that Middle Earth was real.  One of the greatest joys of her life is watching God write her story which, as she puts it, “Gets better with every chapter”.  You can find E. G. Runyan on her blog at https://emmathebard.wixsite.com/egrunyan where she posts twice a week on faith, writing, books, music, film, and occasionally poetry.

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