Where do the realities of pain and sin fit in the pursuit of goodness, truth, and beauty?

As someone who enjoys reading and writing fictional stories, I’m intrigued by questions like these. What does it mean to read and write “Christianly”? Is there a place for moral evil in stories, and if so, is there a right and wrong way to depict it? How dark is “too dark”?

We have two major issues to consider. The first is that sin and evil are real parts of our experience. The second issue is that, since we are sinful people, we are more or less drawn toward expressions of darkness. So how do we acknowledge the first issue without encouraging undue interest in the second? More specifically, how should Christians approach themes of light and darkness in creative expression?

Susan Wise Bauer, Ph.D. and author of “The Well-Trained Mind,” frames the question excellently: “But moral evil, the wickedness we inflict on each other is most troubling for the storyteller. Tales of physical and metaphysical evil can ultimately become stories of goodness, as victims exercise strength, faith, and compassion in response to the difficulties they face. But how can descriptions of moral evil be anything but destructive for readers? What good can come from a careful chronicling of murder, and abuse, or a faithful investigation of the twisted thought paths of a serial killer?”

As I’ve let these questions simmer, I’m reminded that there are no easy answers. Many proposed solutions are helpful as guidelines, not rules. Readers vary. Writers vary. Topic matter varies. Descriptions vary. And our own individual weaknesses get muddled in the middle. What upsets one person may not raise an eyebrow in another. Consciences vary in sensitivity (for better or worse), and believers are at different levels of sanctification. All this to say, I hope this article encourages you to explore the issue and provides some helpful thoughts to consider.

A common solution to depictions of pain and evil is simple: just don’t bring it up. Besides, doesn’t the call toward “things above” or “whatever is just, pure, lovely, and commendable” exclude negativity? Why not focus on the happily ever after?

Poet Luci Shaw has a name for this see-no-evil-hear-no-evil approach to the arts. She calls it kitsch, defining it as “a sentimental art of the Hallmark greeting card variety that cheapens true sentiment, turning it into sweetness and light or mere moralistic propaganda — no teeth, no guts, no muscle, no reality. No real Christianity either, if we consider the Creator’s work as our powerful, radical model.”

The problem with kitsch is that it only tells half the story. Keeping stories “safe and sane” doesn’t do reality justice. Dragons must be slain.

Does this mean “Little Women” or “Anne of Green Gables” (dare I mention “The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion”) don’t find places on our shelves? Certainly not. There are benefits gained from enjoying the low stakes of life and the non-drama drama of the ordinary. But like our favorite desserts, these books keep us happy in the moment but can be negligible in substance. We can only run so far on pure idealism. We also need worlds where words like endurance, integrity, steadfastness, strength, and longsuffering make sense. We need our “Redwall,” our “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” and our “To Kill a Mockingbird.” We need stories that wake sleeping dragons and confront them face on.

There is a principle of contrasts at play when evil is shown to be evil, and good is allowed to be good. As Jesus teaches in Luke 7:41-43, the more we recognize our helpless condition, the more precious grace becomes. The darker the forest, the brighter the lantern. The greater the evil, the greater the final triumph.

But then, there’s an opposite error (or actually two). And that is to either glorify sin or psychologize it.

Some have rightly observed that the Bible contains narration of R-rated scenes (one can recall the not-so-pleasant stories of murder, adultery, impaling, animal abuse, and other such content). And while this fact is helpful when considering what is or is not fair game for writers and readers, it is not a wholesale license to throw in whatever we want and called it biblically permissible.

Screenwriter Brian Godawa offers his thoughts in relation to movies. “In all of the impropriety portrayed in the Bible, we see several elements that make it very different in nature from the lurid celebration of wickedness found in many movies of today. It is a difference between moral exhortation and immoral exploitation. … [T]he Bible’s portrayal of depravity is never dehumanizing, Evil itself is not glamorized as entertainment. There is always a call to redemption, the hope for a better humanity, not a nihilistic message of ‘Hey, this is real life, baby. Get used to it.’ By contextual qualification the greatest story ever told maintains its status as the supreme standard of behavior without compromising its honesty about the human condition.”

In other words, evil must be unmasked for what it really is: the breaking of God’s moral code and the harming of others. Attempts to trivialize the consequences (or glorify wrongdoing) should be met with extreme caution. Some lines should not be blurred (Isaiah 5:20).

The second error is to minimize evil by psychologizing it. As Bauer describes, it’s when a serial killer novel dissects the mind of the perpetrator so that we understand the joy of the kill, rather than the horror of the act. It’s when we think, in Bauer’s words, “the killer is not so very different from me” instead of “there, but for the grace of God, go I.” It’s when moral sin is reinterpreted as “misunderstanding” or solely the results of forces outside the character’s control (such as trauma, poverty, and exploitation). While background provides readers with appropriate empathy and compassion for a perpetrator, it should not abdicate characters from personal responsibility.

Moral evil can be responsibly portrayed, but it takes wisdom and discernment. Sin, like dragons, is crafty. It may disguise itself as a harmless creature or tempt us with hordes of wealth and prestige. Christian storytelling demands that moral evil, in the end, be exposed for what it truly is: a serpent to be confronted and destroyed. Kitsch does not satisfy humanity’s hunger to see the world-made-right. Neither does the glorification or domestication of sin. The world must see its dragons for what they are, along with the promise that, one day, all dragons will be slain.