Maybe you’ve looked at the recommendations in your reading app or the “new books” shelf at your library and wondered if it was worth trying to find truly Christian fiction. If you’re a writer, maybe you’ve looked at the books ranking above yours in the Kindle Store and wondered if it was worth trying to write truly Christian fiction.

First, let’s discuss what some markers of “truly Christian fiction.”

Truly Christian fiction tells the truth.

Obviously, if we’re talking about fiction, “telling the truth” doesn’t mean the story actually happened. But it does mean the story tells the truth about God and people. As Jordan Peterson says, fiction is the distillation of truth.

For some readers, a book is Christian fiction as long as it doesn’t include profanity or on-page intimacy. For others, a book is not Christian fiction unless the sinner’s prayer is prayed—and the more times the better.

But readers, beware.

If characters don’t experience consequences for their actions, or if they are simply victims who have no responsibility for their own choices at all, that’s not the truth about the order God has created. If a story goes on its merry way until someone mentions God, and then the story stops so the characters can read from the author’s script, pray a prayer, and discover all their problems are magically solved, that’s not the truth about how real life and real faith work.

The book of Esther never mentions the name of God, yet his truth is clearly displayed throughout the entire story. But countless other books have claimed to represent God while distorting his character and principles. In the Christian Publishing Show’s excellent podcast about the four laws of Christian storytelling, the fourth “law” is to tell stories with honesty and courage. Look closely at the books you read and write, then ask yourself, “Does this story tell the truth?”

Truly Christian fiction strengthens our walk with God.

Telling the truth can mean talking about hard things, and some writers take that and run with it. But the Bible is clear: We are to speak the truth in love.

Is it loving to subject readers to things that tear them down instead of building them up?

There is wide variety in what Christians consider edifying, and with good reason. We’re each in a different place in our walk with God, and we each have unique strengths and weaknesses. Something that tempts you may not tempt me, and vice versa. The apostle Paul made this clear in Romans 14 and 1 Corinthians 10.

However, I think we can agree that we should not needlessly expose ourselves to evil or temptation. This is why decisions about language, violence, and morality are important—not because sin does not exist or we want to ignore it, but because sin does exist, and we’re not immune to it.

The Bible is the greatest example of edifying literature, and it certainly does not shy away from hard topics. Nor does it shy away from the reality of romantic love. But have you ever stopped to notice how the Bible describes these issues? We often see them reported in a distant, matter-of-fact manner or veiled in poetic terms. As early American preacher John Leland put it in his own eighteenth-century way, “When it was necessary to treat of things rather indecent, it is wonderful to see what euphonisms [sic] are used by the sacred writers, and throughout the volume gravity and chastity of dialect is found, and nothing to provoke obscenity, levity, or confusion.”

Christian fiction may not check all the boxes for every reader’s personal convictions or temptations, but it should strive to strengthen our faith rather than compromise it.

Truly Christian fiction reflects Christ.

Of course, books that are not labeled as Christian can still reflect a biblical view of the world. But Christian originally meant “like Christ.” If we’re going to put that label on a novel, the story should point readers toward him.

Does a story showcase the glorious truth of Christ’s redemption, or does it leave you with the message that you just need to try harder to be a better Christian? Do Christian characters learn to draw their life from Christ, or do they wallow in guilt and end the story still feeling like they’ll never measure up? Does the gospel change people, or is it just a band-aid for their problems? Is God’s true character on display?

Christ is everything beautiful and excellent. That should come through in Christian writing, but not only in what is written. It should also come through in how it is written. Our Lord spoke the world into existence. He made order where there was none. He defined a beautifully detailed pattern for the Tabernacle and for the new Jerusalem, and he was honored by David’s instructions to musicians to sing unto the Lord and play skillfully.

This, my fellow writers, is a call to excel at your craft. And this, my fellow readers, is a call to expect that excellence. 

But is it worth it?

Is it worth it to try to read and write books like this? Is it worth it to fight discouragement when you see yet another anti-God novel win an award and shoot to bestseller status?

See, here’s the thing. Christianity is true. And as C. S. Lewis famously said, “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”

If Christianity is true, then it is the only thing that accurately explains the world around us. If it is the only thing that explains the world around us, then it can hold its own against all comers. And if it can hold its own against all comers, then it will set people free, as truth inevitably does.

Understanding this big-picture view of the gospel reshapes my view of storytelling. Why would I want to tell a story that does not align with what is true about the world? Why would you want to read a story that backs down from the one reality that can change people’s lives? Why would we want books that reduce the gospel to a stage lecture or a magic wand or a bumper sticker?

And understanding this big-picture view of the gospel equips us for the times we read books that are not labeled as Christian or don’t live up to the Christian label. Knowing who God is, who we are, and how his principles work prepares us to discern truth and error wherever we find it. 

The next time you feel discouraged by what you see in the bookstores and on the digital shelves, step back. Remind yourself that your God is bigger than all of it. Remind yourself that his truth is the only truth, and his truth always wins. Remind yourself that he is the truth, and he is your life.

Then ask yourself, are stories that tell that truth worth it?

Perhaps your answer will be that such stories are not only worth it but inevitable.

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If you’d like some recommendations for thought-provoking books, including some truly Christian fiction, some secular classics, and some nonfiction, grab your copy of Patriot at the River before October 17 and forward your receipt to info(at)booksbyjayna(dot)com to get a list of “Ten Books to Read When You Finish Patriot at the River,” plus some other fun bonuses as well. Or join Jayna Baas’s email list to get a monthly book review.