We Should Read Fiction - Ethan McConnell
A number of years ago, I went to lunch with a minister from
a church in my hometown. I was a senior in college and had plans to begin
seminary the following Spring. Over the course of the meal, we discussed all
manner of challenges and blessings related to ministry in the local church.
Towards the end of our lunch, I asked this pastor if he had any advice for
someone pursing a call to ministry. He replied: “Read fiction. Fiction is what keeps
us connected to our congregations and grounded in our thought.”
I’ll never forget those words. Of
course, at that point, I thought he meant that reading fiction allowed a pastor
to relate more effectively in a cultural or social manner to his congregation. I
now realize it means something far more important than mere social or cultural interaction
– although that is certainly a benefit. In fact, I believe his words had two parallel
meanings that change based on your own personal tendencies. What I’m getting at
is this – the reason behind reading fiction is different for those of us who tend
to see the best in people (we’ll call them optimists) and for those of us who
tend to see the worst in people (lets call them pessimists).
Since I fall into the pessimist
category, I’ll begin there. I often expect the worst from people. I find being
pleasantly surprised by someone’s choices and actions is preferable to
continually being disappointed by the same choices and actions. In ministry,
this means that I expect people to not attend worship, to not give their all to
the needs and ministries of the church, and to not practice living in holiness.
After all, these things are not uncommon when we allow ourselves to seek out
the pleasures of our flesh. This perspective does have its upsides – namely,
when people do show commitment to the gathering of believers, do throw
themselves into the life and ministry of the church, and do strive for holiness,
I am pleasantly surprised and encouraged.
Enter: fiction. In every great work
of fiction there are always three things. A protagonist, an antagonist, and a specific
event culminating in the climax of the narrative. For the protagonist, there is
always a “journey” to reach that particular event wherein he/she achieves
victory over the antagonist. As a good reformed Christian, I’ll use The Lord of
the Rings as an example. In these books, Frodo (the protagonist) takes a
literal journey across Middle Earth to destroy the ring of power in Mount Doom
(the event) in order to rid the world of Sauron’s evil (the antagonist). Over
the course of this journey, the reader sees both the goodness in Frodo’s heart and
the evil produced by the ring he carries. The journey serves as a metaphorical
setting for the internal struggle over good and evil. Along the way, the reader
sees both the good actions of Frodo, and his failures in the difficult journey.
How does this relate to the pessimist’s pastoral ministry? Far too often, we
expect the worst out of our congregation. However, the failures we see (perhaps
more clearly than most) are only a part of the journey these people are taking.
Yes, they are sinners and yes they will fail us and disappoint us. At the same
time, they are not without sanctifying grace and they will show us growth, if
we’re willing to look for it. When we read great stories, we often overlook the
protagonist’s failures because the end product is far better than what we observed
along the journey. The same is true for everyday people. We just can’t see their
story in 300 pages.
There is, of course, the other side
of this issue. For many of you, you can’t relate well, if at all, to this
pessimistic view of people. You tend to see the best in people, recognizing, of
course, that they are sinners in need of grace, but emphasizing the grace in
their lives. The tendency here is to see the progress at the expense of ignoring
the failure. You recognize the growth in the lives of your congregation, and
you rejoice. Yet, far too often, this comes at the expense of missing their
struggles and their needs. When we fail to see their failure, we cannot effectively
lead them to the path of holiness. We are quick to rejoice in Frodo bearing
such a great burden and never giving up, but we miss Frodo’s rejection of Sam,
his belief in the lies of Gollum, and his own reliance on the power of the ring
and reluctance to give it up. In this, fiction offers us a helpful lesson. As
we observe the journey of our congregation, we must not forget to pay attention
to their failures so that we might better lead them to the cross of Christ.
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