In his response to my recent post about the limitations of Christian Fiction™ A.H. Lloyd raises points on the importance of reinforcing Christian themes via content made for Christian audiences, essentially preaching to the choir.
While I understand Lloyd’s concerns, his response ultimately misinterprets my critique of the Christian fiction subgenre. Here, I’ll clarify my original arguments and address the attempted rebuttal’s core misunderstandings.
Photo: UnsplashLloyd stumbles right out of the gate by characterizing my original post as expressing “distaste” for Christian fiction. If you’re familiar with the rudiments of rhetoric, you’ll recognize that old trick of reframing a value statement as a weaker preference statement. At the same time, his piece’s title argues that Christian creators should write whatever they want, which is an appeal to personal preference as an unconditioned good. Such a premise aligns more closely with Modernism than with the Christian artistic tradition.
We could end there, but to clear up any misunderstandings, let’s examine the essential points that Lloyd’s piece missed and offer some fraternal correction.
Lloyed maintains that Christian fiction serves an important function by offering faith-affirming content, especially as mainstream media increasingly excludes or misrepresents Christian themes. I don’t disagree that Christian readers need access to quality content aligned with their values. My argument, however, wasn’t against Christian storytelling itself but against the limitations imposed by the Christian Fiction™ genre as it’s typically executed.
Too often, “Christian Fiction” relies on formulaic plots and overt messaging that prioritizes proselytizing over art. This approach may appeal to a small, specific audience, but it rarely resonates beyond that circle.
In contrast, Christian storytelling achieves its highest potential when it invites a broader audience to engage with universal themes, not through overt propagandizing but through compelling stories that reveal truth and beauty naturally. In other words, storytelling should serve the story first, allowing Christian themes to emerge organically rather than through overt preaching or arbitrary confinement to restrictive genre conventions.
Lloyd emphasizes that reinforcing current believers’ faith is essential, especially as the culture becomes more secular. While there is inarguably value in offering Christians supportive content, why shouldn’t Christian creatives strive for the highest quality possible? Not only does transcending hackneyed Christian Fiction™ formulas better serve Christian audiences, it glorifies the creator’s Creator.
So instead of isolating Christian storytelling within a contrived genre bubble, Christian authors can draw believers and nonbelievers by prioritizing a story’s quality and maximizing its impact. This approach has a more substantial effect, as we see in the works of Tolkien or O’Connor, who wrote for everyone, not just a Christian audience. Their stories resonate widely because they avoid the genre constraints that have relegated Christian Fiction™ to its small niche.
Lloyd also seems to suggest that “Christian fiction” is not, for the most part, mutually exclusive with casting a wide net. But the issue is precisely the genre’s insularity. It too often hinders the broader appeal needed to share Christian truths in a secular society. By contrast, stories that subtly embody Christian values without heavy-handed messaging are more accessible to all readers and therefore have greater potential to inspire or provoke thought beyond Christian circles.
Further, Lloyd argues that there’s a ready market for Christian Fiction™. And he’s right—it has a loyal audience. But my critique of “Christian fiction” is not about financial success; rather, it’s about cultural influence. While boutique genres like Amish romance may sell well within their market, they don’t typically shape culture or reach those outside their target readership.
To heal the damage the Church’s enemies have inflicted on the culture, Christian authors can’t restrict our aim to making sales within a narrow Christian demographic. Instead, we must strive to create works that transcend genre for wide and deep cultural penetration. That’s the only viable way to reintroduce Christian virtues to a secularized mainstream. Note that neither Tolkien nor Lewis relied on genre formulas or niche marketing. Instead, they focused on the quality and depth of their tales, allowing Christian values to enrich the story rather than dictate it.
That leads us to Lloyd’s main error: conflating my criticism of Christian Fiction™ with a wholesale rejection of Christian-themed storytelling. That is a strange accusation to lodge against an author whose every novel is informed by Christian truth, and one wonders if he’s ever read one of them. My critique specifically addresses how “Christian fiction,” as currently understood, often reduces faith to a mere genre, focused more on didactic content than on creating memorable, thought-provoking art.
You see, effective Christian storytelling doesn’t need to be labeled or confined to genre conventions. By giving our audiences relatable characters who face compelling conflicts, Christian authors can write stories that gain wide traction while reflecting our values.
This distinction is crucial. Instead of dividing Christian writing into “Christian fiction” and everything else, we should seek to elevate Christian storytelling in a way that enriches the culture as a whole. A story’s Christian elements should feel inherent, not shoehorned in to meet genre expectations.
While Lloyd’s points highlight the importance of reinforcing Christian values, my original argument stressed that “Christian fiction” as a genre often limits the potential of Christian storytelling. By focusing on sound craft, the universal human experience, and unwavering authenticity, Christian creators can reach a broader audience and have a more lasting impact.
And frankly, why would Christian creators want to limit ourselves to drawing inside the lines? Rather than isolating ourselves within rigid genre conventions, we can create stories that appeal to all, inviting readers to encounter truth and beauty without feeling preached to. The idea isn’t to abandon Christians but to build narratives that inspire believers and nonbelievers alike to heal the culture. That’s why preaching to the choir isn’t the solution. It’s part of the problem.
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Originally published here.
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