Should Fiction Forsake Conversion Scenes?
One author isn’t sure if we should repent of characters’ confessions.
E. Stephen Burnett on Apr 15, 2013 · 12 replies
Pastor and novelist Zach Bartels1 agrees that more Christian fiction isn’t including specific scenes of characters repenting and believing in Jesus Christ.
But unlike some readers (and writers), Bartels isn’t sure this is a good thing.
You used to be able to feel those coming in decades past (and centuries past, for that matter, going back to Bunyan), even in the work of innovators like Peretti. Now they’re considerably more rare. But why? Is it because we’ve sold out, putting market above principles (not unlike the vague, Bieberish lyrics of many contemporary pop Christian songs)?
More is at Bartels’ blog: The Infamous Conversion Scene.
It’s interesting that he cites The Pilgrim’s Progress. My recollection of The Pilgrim’s Progress is fuzzy… but does it really contain one specific conversion scene, by Evangelical standards? There’s the moment when the Burden rolls away into the tomb. There’s the moment when Christian goes through the gate. But Christian was on his journey from the moment he left his old world behind, his friends and family thinking that he was insane. Wasn’t he “saved” the moment he left home to seek the Celestial City? How is one moment of the journey more important than the entire working of God’s salvation through the story of a Christian’s life?
Okay, well, I can’t cast the first stone here. My novel does contain a kind of conversion scene (more of a switching of allegiance, but it does exist). But overall, I’m of the persuasion that the story better really, really need it. I think that conversion scenes have the vulnerability that a love letter has; in the wrong context, they tend to come off hokey and trite, and nowhere near as intimate as they were intended. Moreover, they tend to be an excuse to work in The Sinner’s Prayer, and well, if that’s the best you can do, you should probably start from scratch.
True conversion may or may not be a private affair, but it does tend to be a rather personal one. An imperfect analogy, if I may: while there is nothing inherently wrong with wanting to extol a love scene between a husband and wife, reading it tends to be a very different experience. It generally comes off awkward and a bit voyeuristic, and not really as moving as we might like. On the same token, it is very difficult to write a conversion that does everything the author intends it to do.
I think it was Hemingway who said that there was nothing particularly hard about writing; you just have to sit in front of your typewriter and bleed. True soul-baring writing is poignant and unforgettable. Writing that is meant to manipulate the emotions tends to come off as exactly that: manipulative.
Did you ever see the movie Legends of the Fall? If you did, and liked it, I apologize for what I have to say next. If you did, and felt the way I did, I think you will know what I mean. I HATED that film. From the very beginning of that film all the way to the wretched end, I got the distinct feeling that the filmmakers wanted to make me feel bad. And you know what? It worked. I felt that I would not get those two hours of my life back. But I didn’t feel sad. I didn’t care about the characters, precisely because they were as foolish and miserable as the filmmakers depicted them, and you might as well have had the scriptwriter standing in the background with a large applause sign with the words “CRY HERE” emblazoned on it. It didn’t work, precisely because they tried too hard to make it work. On the other hand, I bawled at The Mighty and Bridge to Terebithia … and I knew what was coming. What made the difference? The scenes in those films were integral to both plot and character, and the viewer was allowed to react, rather than being forced to.
I would really have liked the author to address some of the more powerful, compelling, or even necessary conversion scenes in literature. I think one would be hard-pressed to name a really good one, and one could probably make a much better case that the absence of them is much more effective. In the Chronicles of Narnia, you don’t have people confessing their sins to Aslan and professing him as their lord and lion for all time. They simply follow/obey him (or don’t), and reap the consequences of their decision. By the time Edmund “converts,” you had already been shown his regret, and the moment of truth between Aslan and himself is left private, something alluded to, but offscreen (if just barely). He says he’s sorry (“repents”) to his brother and sisters, and that’s enough. Remember “when you do this to the least of these…”? Even in fiction, or perhaps especially in fiction, we demonstrate love for God best by demonstrating it to others. We don’t need moments of paint-by-numbers repentance and conversions so much as we need moments to stir our souls and make us ponder our relationship to God.
Eh, it depends on the structure of the novel. If you do a conversion-less conversion story, where the unbeliever is “shown grace” in some arbitrary way, I find it even less satisfying. I think people just dislike the scenes because so many novels are conversion stories, and it’s just fatigue. It’s funny; there’s no shortage of issues Christians have to deal with, and yet books targeted towards them seem to focus always on the conversion of others.
I think the trouble here is that we are talking more or less about hypothetical conversions in hypothetical novels. I would be very interested in people listing some of the most effective (or least effective) conversion scenes in literature, if any come to mind.
I’d submit expanding on the idea of what a conversion is, to be honest. The Last Samurai is a conversion story: the transformation of a soul from one kind of man to another. With that definition in mind, most stories contain that type of arc. Lawhead’s Byzantium is about a kid who loses, then regains with renewed understanding, his faith in God. His Song of Albion and King Raven series both engage conversions: Llew begins as a shy, reserved everyday man and becomes a powerful sovereign; Bran begins as an arrogant twit and becomes a bold, self-sacrificing man willing to throw in everything for his people.
Donita Paul, Bryan Davis, and Karen Hancock. It’s organic and comes directly out of the internal conflicts going on inside the characters. I like the intimacy involved in them. Also, these characters aren’t necessarily “bad people” – meaning, there isn’t any particular outrageous sin going on. They’re people who either have no or little knowledge of the truth and are mostly on a learning curve. (I threw these out there for that reason.) Steven James is very good at making characters *struggle* with faith; Ted Dekker is really good at the overt “conversion arc”. Eric Wilson’s Jerusalem’s Undead is a very slow trajectory with some very, very well-done “Christian scenes”; Eric Reinhold still holds my vote for “Watch me take two worlds and weave them so that the natural and supernatural realms of both can interact”.
I love the kind of redemptive/conversion themes you mention, but I don’t think they qualify as the conversion scene the author is trying to defend. I will have to delve more deeply into the books you have recommended; it sounds as though several are on the right track.
I am always willing to plug a good book. I could rattle off several others, but I don’t recall them having a conversion scene in them.
Most of what I’ve read of late hasn’t really led itself to a Christian conversion scene. In fact, most of the actual conversions I’ve read have been non-fiction. I cut my teeth on Anne of Green Gables and Mandie Mysteries (and a lot of…oddly sad fiction including Catacombs, which is by far the most depressing relatively contemporary Christian novel ever written), then jumped to Frank Peretti and Bill Meyers. Later, crime novels/suspense/mystery (still in the Christian section – after I got out of my rather intense end-times phase which included a whole slew of authors).
I brought up non-Christian illustrations mostly to make the point that conversions aren’t limited to Christianity, and any conversion requires one to turn his back on a former set of beliefs – a former life – and turn toward a new. Transformation *is* a common theme in literature, really in culture as a whole. And I am an absolute sucker for a good redemption arc wherever I find one.
I think you hit it on the head, though: there’s a right and wrong way to do everything. One, people don’t like to *feel* manipulated, regardless of intent (I really don’t think 99.9% of Christian writers have ever had the intent to manipulate anyone), and sometimes a book comes off like 300 pages of a very emotional gospel tract (marketed toward Christians who already know and believe this, which, again, is kinda like giving me, a third generation church kid who turned her soul over to Christ at five, a tract).
Two, I think I’ve decided – and this is going to make Stephen laugh at me, I think – that conversion arcs (Christian or otherwise, overt or subtle) are kinda like romance arcs: They better fit what’s going on, or they better not be there. I’ve mentioned more than once that I have not forgiven the first Bourne movie for a random kissing scene too early in the storyline. Similarily, sometimes there just isn’t room for a whole lot of soul-searching, period. And sometimes it just doesn’t fit the character at that point. Sometimes, I think it’s a combination of the two: the arc just happens too fast for that particular character. It’s intimately tied to the character: God deals with us on the most intimate level possible and the mishandling of that will go very, very badly. I also think that’s what makes those scenes so dang hard to write. 😛
Thinking about it, I don’t think conversion scenes ever really bothered me until people started having these conversations. At that point, I’m not sure how much was me noticing and how much was genuine “Okay, I get it; you’re sorry. Why are you crying?”
Did you ever see the movie Legends of the Fall?
Oh, good I’m not the only one who thought it was boring. Course, I think I thought, based on the title, it was going to be dark and creepy and instead I got a golfing movie. Which…no offense to golfers, but I am not. 😛
Also, I apologize, Robert, for not immediately realizing I was making many similar points in this post. I read the discussion – quickly – three days ago and didn’t re-read it before commenting.
Okay, one last question: I suppose I’m not sure the difference between redemption/conversion themes and the type of specific one we’re discussing here (overtly Christian redemptions). The way the discussion was running, it appeared we all agreed that the problem was neither overtness nor Christian-ness (insert made-up word here).
Bainespal – I love that you made that point, and I really want to take it and run with it, but I’m really afraid of derailing the whole thing. 0=)
Okay, my dogs are threatening me again…
Really? I added more and the dang thing ate it? Bug hum.
Last time….
Well, I don’t think most suspense novels really leave themselves much time for a whole lot of introspection.
I think books, dance, and art are all having the same conversation music did a few years back.
I think it’s changing more than going away.
But why? Is it because we’ve sold out, putting market above principles (not unlike the vague, Bieberish lyrics of many contemporary pop Christian songs)?
Is it because the genre is evolving and becoming more nuanced? Or simply because the convention has jumped the shark, a self-parody favored by lazy writers who don’t want to develop their characters a little at a time?
I’m going to say I neither revel in nor revile the stereotypical Christian conversion scene, as I never thought of them that way when they were in favor – really, never until this type of conversation started circulating.
Miscellaneous commentary: I don’t know what ‘Bieberish’ means. I also think I want “sell-out” defined before I pin it to someone’s chest. And “the convention” while we’re at it. And “lazy.” Those are charges as high as “manipulative”. Frankly, there are plenty of people who have every good reason to be in CBA and as many who’ve “crossed over” into ABA. And by that toke there are plenty of “cross-overs” and plenty die-hard CBA-ers who have every bad reason to be where they are. There’s no real point in marginalizing either. Wherever you are, be a minister of grace.
I think that is ideal. Maybe that’s how pre-Evangelical Christianity would have viewed conversions — as an important step in the journey of many or most Christians — not as the beginning of that Christian’s story and certainly not as the end of it. But Evangelicalism obsesses over the conversion, or the professed experience of the conversion, the personal “testimony.” That comes through in Evangelical fiction and art. The goal of getting people to profess faith became the chief end, an end that has come to justify almost all means. I don’t go to a radical fire-and-brimstone church, but even my church teaches that sharing the gospel is the primary duty and goal of every Christian. The old senior pastor of my church has even said, once, that the reason God doesn’t rapture us to heaven as soon as we are “saved” is so that we can share the gospel with others so that they can be “saved” too.
So, the world became weary of the Evangelical obsession with conversion stories, both in real-life and in fiction. And some Christians who really do believe have also become weary of it, doubting that explicitly telling the gospel narrative and inviting people to pray to receive Christ really is the most important goal and duty of every Christian. So, many people in the general public, including some Christians, have come to shun any deliberate use of a conversion in fiction. This doesn’t mean that the conversion scene is inherently bad or artificial. It means that a lot of people have a problem with the conversion scene, because it’s been made into a Big Issue. And the bitter irony is, those of us who are uncomfortable with conversion scenes being a Big Issue guarantee that they will continue to be a Big Issue by protesting all conversions scenes.
Kaci:
Legends of the Fall a golfing movie? I think you may be thinking of The Legend of Bagger Vance….
Oh. You’re likely right. Thanks. Maybe I just had meant to see the other.