Does Christian Fiction Suck?
Yes—most of them do. I’m talking about Christian fiction, not non-fiction. Some of my favorite books are non-fiction works grounded in faith. But when it comes to fiction, much of it feels forced, preachy, or just plain bad.
Take Nefarious, for example—a film marketed as a “spiritual thriller.” It starts strong: compelling acting (especially from Sean Patrick Flanery), an intriguing premise (psychiatrist vs. possible demon-possessed killer), and solid tension. But then, midway through, the plot slams to a halt for a jarring, heavy-handed discussion on abortion. And I’m someone who’s staunchly pro-life—yet even I cringed. It felt less like storytelling and more like sermonizing. The message wasn’t earned; it was inserted.
Homestead was another disappointment. It opens with promise: an apocalyptic terror attack and a ragtag group of survivors. But realism quickly takes a backseat to bizarre scenes—like a city councilman threatening to cite the protagonist over stockpiling guns... during an apocalypse? Really? By the end, it too devolved into preaching—this time from a teenage girl and her boyfriend. I found myself squirming—not because of suspense, but discomfort.
The issue? These stories don’t trust the audience. They try too hard to “teach” rather than show.
Christian fiction often suffers from the same flaw. It either sanitizes reality or delivers a sermon in disguise. Readers aren’t stupid—they can spot a story built just to deliver a Bible verse. It’s disingenuous and ineffective. The best stories reflect truth through experience, not exposition.
When I wrote my first novel, Eels of Catawissa, I fell into this exact trap. My early drafts were preachy, cluttered with my opinions. Beta readers called it out: “This doesn’t serve the story.” They were right. I had become the kind of writer I didn’t want to be.
Later, when I spoke to a Christian literary agent, she asked how much of my book mentioned God or the Bible. I said about 5–10%. She frowned and told me it wasn’t “Christian enough.” She hadn’t even read it.
That’s when I realized the problem isn’t just with Christian fiction—it’s with the expectations around it. Writers cram theology into their work because they think it’s the only way to get published in the genre. Maybe they’re right. But I’m not willing to write that way.
So where’s the balance? How do you write stories of faith that are also stories of real life?
I grew up obsessed with J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis—what I call “my initial guys” (now joined by G.K. Chesterton). I didn’t love The Lord of the Rings because of its moral teaching. I loved it because it was epic. The deeper truths only hit me years later, when I had questions that demanded answers. Then the metaphors and theology became obvious—and beautiful.
That’s what I want for my readers. I want them to be entertained first. And when they’re ready, the deeper truth will be there waiting. If not, that’s okay—they still enjoyed a good story.
Truth through fiction—that’s what I’m after.
We’re told to “show, not tell” in writing. Don’t say, “Jim was angry”—say, “Jim clenched his jaw.” The same goes for faith. Don’t preach it—show it. Let readers witness revelation through a character’s arc. Show their flaws. Let them struggle. Let the transformation be felt.
St. Francis of Assisi said, “Preach the gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words.” Brilliant advice—but hard to apply in writing. My friend Andrew, a therapist, put it best: “People don’t change their minds because they get answers. They change when they have a revelation.”
Tolkien never quoted Bible verses. He didn’t write characters as spiritual mouthpieces. He told stories about flawed beings experiencing deep transformation. And when readers were ready, they saw the deeper meaning.
So that’s my goal: not to write sermons in disguise, but to craft redemptive, authentic stories. To write Christian fiction that isn’t afraid of the mess, the rawness, and the questions. To invite readers into a journey—not a lecture.
Is the Christian fiction market ready for this kind of storytelling? I’m not sure. But I’m writing it anyway.
Are you out there? Are you ready for something different?
Let me know.
