More God in Stories, Please

It bothers me when God does not inhabit contemporary fictional universes. This drought of profound fictitious deities prompted questions I'm still mulling over.

• What should match up between reality and a good story?
• How wise is it to separate a fictional universe from reality?

In today’s stories, He’s simply not there. Creators in the 21st century weave lengthy narratives in popular media, shows, and books without a compelling God.

I’ll admit I’m not really interested in fictional agnosticism, atheism, polytheism, pantheism, or animism. Agnosticism and atheism really take the cake in certain genres.

Unfortunately, we also occasionally get ugly caricatures of our Heavenly Father. Strawman deities are generated in plots to disprove strawman gods. Naturally, an anemic or corrupt powerlord isn’t nearly as compelling as God is. This demi-strawman is worse than not including God in the story in the first place.

My qualm could be interpreted as a simple, selfish ask from a Christian. But surely, worlds like Narnia aren’t exclusively fascinating to Christian audiences.

Admittedly, Jesus and the Godhead are difficult to characterize in a convincing way. Our triune God is fascinating and beautiful but unquestionably deep. He is beyond us in the best sense.

Given the scarcity of great movie Gods, I would settle for a compelling God. 

By compelling, I mean loving. Loving in the Biblical sense that God is exceedingly loving. A love that is not based on our flawed concepts of love.

God himself is the basis for love in the triune godhead. Unless we’re forming our concept of true love from Him, we project a flawed and culturally coded concept of love. Ananias and Saphira experienced the Holy Spirit’s passion for truth, obedience, and righteousness in a startling dead end they didn’t anticipate. All of the Holy Spirit's actions, for his reasons and purposes, are, by definition, the most loving thing to do.

Admittedly, it’s not easy to paint a believable picture of a fictional God. 

C.S. Lewis envisioned The Screwtape Letters. He identified key temptations humans face from spiritual evil forces as told by the devilish characters themselves. However, Lewis explained he had issues creating a compelling corresponding version with angels serving Christians on behalf of Christ.

Stories overlook creative plot conflicts and resolutions when they default to an atheistic worldview. A compelling God in the foreground or background of fiction increases the story’s narrative and thematic options.

That is not to say every book must include God as a directly dictated character. The book of Esther (though certainly not fiction) is famous for its failure to mention God explicitly.

If the Biblical (protestant) canon includes a book that does not mention our Lord directly, it must be acceptable to write fiction without mentioning God. Occasionally.

Esther documents the dramatic rescue of God’s chosen people from genocide. Esther's placement in the Bible contextually declares the Almighty is the unmentioned mover of the story. If Esther wasn’t a book about God’s true character and work, it wouldn’t be in the Holy Scripture.

In regards to our Creator, Esther reads like Lord of the Rings.

According to sources from Tolkien about his high fantasy world, Eru Ilúvatar is indeed the One who Rules Them All. Despite his lack of mention in LOTR lore, other canon writing recognizes Eru’s rule at the pinnacle of the spiritual hierarchy.

The same Eru Ilúvatar who, according to one of Tolkien's letters, providentially arranged Golem’s misplaced footing. It was a push of divine plot providence that placed the one ring in the magma of Mount Doom.

The narrative inclusion (or even assumption) of a Just Judge is not always a necessity. But it’s a welcome addition to the growing number of stories where there is no judge.

As a character, God would need a non-trivial introduction to the plot from the start of a story. To write in a convenient, miraculous act of God simply at the end of a story is called deus ex machina.

You can find this write-up on Wikipedia:

Deus ex machina - God from the machine is a plot device whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem in a story is suddenly or abruptly resolved by an unexpected and unlikely occurrence

It is a concept taken from Greek theater where a god is raised with a machine onto the stage, or is lowered by machine to “conveniently” resolve the tension in a tragedy.

People have historically had issues with deus ex machina resolutions. Even ancient critics, contemporaries of the original writers, didn’t always appreciate the plot device.

It’s considered lazy writing when deus ex machina is introduced without any pretext to tie up the plot. If an author inserts a miraculous intervention of a god or fate at the end of a show, it would be widely considered poor writing. 

Some of the earliest playwrights included the gods as characters who caused mischief at the beginning and middle of the play. This led up to the final act, where the god or gods finally intervened to clean up the mess.

It is helpful to consider the theological intrigue in Job’s first act. God interacts with lesser spiritual beings concerning the life and works of men. It’s definitely fitting and unexpected in the final act when God comes to answer Job with a series of subversive questions on Job’s fitness to run reality.

Well-written divine intervention is an excellent option to break away from bleak existential conclusions. Divine intervention can settle human conflicts with proper perspective, appropriate commentary, and a fitting final resolution.

Hope is key, even for fictional characters. Hope makes characters feel realistic and grounded. Is there hope for less-than-perfect characters in a world where only the strong win?

Humanity survives on hope. We keep moving forward because we believe that things will get better. People who genuinely don’t believe things can ever get better give up.

God gives hope to us abundantly. Our stories will be redeemed and continued in a new heavens and new earth. Humanity brings glory to Jesus as soon as we trust him and glory to Jesus if we choose not to trust him. Christ came down to save us from sin at the right time so time could be made right.

But what “good” is a “good ending” when there is no ultimate basis for “capital G” Good in an atheistic moral universe?

Modern writers award human characters honor and glory for their imagined achievements. This might be because authors can’t imagine something more worthy of honor than human heroic characters. 

But there is a God worthy of all the praise. Even in stories, he is still worthy.

The materials to delve into God’s character and attributes as a robust theme are readily available to anyone with access to the world's most influential book, the Bible. The Bible, first and secondly, the vast field of theology, are gold mines for new creative avenues. At the very least, ChatGPT can regurgitate an erratic, blurry vision of Christian theology for quick reference.

I pray that fictional characters are no longer closed off from meaningful interaction with a benevolent, powerful, and holy God. 

Godly plots point people towards divine help. The truth is out there. Help is waiting for us, too. Jesus came to earth to live and die as a substitute for our sins. He comes when we call and seek him diligently. He is the greatest hero. Books, movies, games, and shows could use more of him. We could use more protagonists like him.

Characters might continue fighting for the microscopic glory of a meaningless universe. But it's best if they finally find meaning analogous to the profound truth of God intervening in our world.

Tolkien’s 18,000-word essay “On Fairy-stories” (from page 155) has some related thoughts on the subject.

Probably every writer making a secondary world, a fantasy, every sub-creator, wishes in some measure to be a real maker, or hopes that he is drawing on reality: hopes that the peculiar quality of his secondary world (if not in all details) are derived from Reality [with a capital R], or are flowing into it. If he indeed achieves a quality that can fairly be described by the dictionary definition: “inner consistency of reality,” it is difficult to conceive how this can be, if the work does not in some way partake of reality. The peculiar quality of the “joy” in successful Fantasy can thus be explained as a sudden glimpse of underlying reality or truth. It is not only a “consolation” for the sorrow of this world, but a satisfaction, and an answer to that question, “Is it true?”

When authors no longer agree on what’s true, or if truth exists, how can they engage with capital ‘R’ Reality?