As Christians, we have to be willing to step outside our comfort zones, something I’m not very good at. I’m not a naturally outgoing person. I tend to prefer books and numbers and art and ideas to people and social gatherings. Of course, I get as lonely as anybody else if I do not get enough social interaction. I’m incredibly thankful that I’m married to a woman who not only understands this, but feels very much the same (though she’s more focused on music than on books and numbers).
But I think that going outside our comfort zones almost by definition means doing things we’re not so good at. Don’t get me wrong: I think God made us the way we are for a reason. I think our talents and temperaments are not accidents, but gifts. And so I will probably never be called to lead a Billy Graham-style crusade, preaching to millions, or even work as a pastor, dealing with an entire congregation in groups and one on one settings. But if I ever am, I know I’ll have to step up and do it, trusting that God will give me the strength to fulfill His call.
So, what does that mean here, in the written word?
I think, for me at least, it means vulnerability. Nietzsche famously said, “of all writing, I love only that which a man has written in his own blood.” I think that (if I may be so bold as to speak for Him), God may feel the same way.
Vulnerability goes beyond honesty. A person may be completely honest, as far as it goes, while writing about topics that never require him to lay himself bare, to intentionally make himself look weak or foolish or flawed. But only by appearing weak and foolish and flawed can we really glorify God.
And this goes for fiction as well as blogging and memoir (those who know me know I’ve always written fiction, and I’ve always struggled with being truly happy with what I create). It’s hard, when trying to juggle plot, character, character voice, and prose style to really be vulnerable. It’s not easy to let an ugly, doubt-ridden, questioning, disappointed, vulnerable part of myself spill out into the characters, especially not a character I like. It’s not easy; in fact, it hurts. But it is, I believe, necessary.
So what do you think? Should our brokenness before God show through in everything we write? Is there a place for confident, even didactic prose? What about didactic, prescriptive fiction? And are we ready, as Christians in an often-sanitized culture, to confront each others’ vulnerabilities?