Faith, Fiction, and the Woman at the Well

I've said many times that while I am a Christian who is an author, I am not a Christian author—and I don't plan to become one. But as a Christian author writing secular fiction, I'm often met with challenging arguments from both the Christian community and the secular one.

• "Can Christians write romance novels?"
• "Can Christians write women's fiction?"
• "Why would a Christian write romance novels?"
• "Is it okay for Christians to write secular books?"
• "Can Christian writers write about sex?"
• "I'm not sure Christian writers and non-Christian characters go together."
• "Faith and fiction don't mix."

Regardless of how it's framed—whether it's genuine curiosity or judgmental side-eye—the message comes through, loud and clear: writing sex scenes as a Christian is BAD, Christian writers in the secular market probably have something missing in their faith, Christian mission through storytelling is at best misguided and at worst active rebellion, and if I really loved Jesus, I'd have no business writing trauma-informed fiction or stories for the hurting, especially if they involve open-door sex scenes.

The thing is, I get it. I’ve even questioned those things myself, both with and without compassionate understanding for nuance. But the nuance is there, and it means the answer isn’t a simple one; the real answer is more than just blending faith and fiction. Fiction that incudes healing after trauma, the longing for connection, and the human need for love and touch all address real stories, real people with real pain—and writing about real-life struggles is all about meeting people where they are with stories that reflect grace even if they aren't directly about Jesus.

I remember my life before Jesus. I remember the brokenness, the church hurt. I remember being shamed by people who injured my body and spirit while telling me they were doing it with the hands and feet of Jesus. And I remember wanting nothing to do with him because of those people. Whether we like it or not, the Pharisees are still alive and well in the church today—but that's part of why I want to write from the perspective of honest Christianity rather than idealized Christianity, acknowledging that while salvation is instant, sanctification takes time and it's okay to be saved but still growing. Jesus carried faith beyond church walls, and he met the Samaritan woman right where she was, at the well in the middle of the day, rejected and alone. And I want to do the same.

I didn't actively choose secular writing to eliminate or avoid the boundaries of my faith in the writing process. I never intended to subvert my Christian identity in storytelling, or to showcase lukewarm Christian perspective in non-Christian fiction writing. But somewhere between healing and heartbreak, in my fortress built of memory and mission, deep in the wilderness between pain and purpose...I found myself writing the kinds of stories I used to need, long before I knew Jesus. Resilience and growth in fiction. Emotional healing through story.

Because I remember what it felt like to be empty.

I remember what it felt like to be bruised by control masquerading as love. I remember how it felt to be told I was the problem. Too much. Too needy. I remember what it felt like to show up at church and still leave starving to be seen and heard. Broken, unclean. Scandalous.

And I remember what it felt like when a character on a page said the thing I hadn’t known how to say myself. When stories I read planted seeds of the faith I now depend on.

I remember finding hope through storytelling; the well-spring of eternal life poured out in the birth of my own faith in secular writing. And that’s why I write the way I do. Because trauma doesn’t tidy up with a worship playlist, and some people are living through hell—and the last thing they need is another Christian pretending not to see.

I think writing Christian themes without preaching is possible, and I think a Christian author writing for non-Christians from personal experience is in itself an open door to sanctification through creativity. Because the truth is, those open-door scenes so many people are scandalized by aren’t an author's invitation to sin; more often, the craving for them is a reader's own cry for connection. A picture of the ache so many carry in silence.

And if we as Christians talk so much about finding the lost and reaching the unchurched but we can’t speak about the aching heart of humanity, then how are we ever going to offer the healing? Anyone serious about following Jesus can't just stay safe in a pew. Jesus went out to meet people where they were, telling stories that started in the dark—because that’s where light matters most. Jesus chose the outcasts, loved the unlovable, and touched the unclean. He didn't shake his head and turn away from the ugly in the world. He went after it boldly, with grit and grace in equal measure.

I believe God made us for community; he made us to need each other. And so often, when we are disconnected from him, we’ll do just about anything to feel held, honored, known. That’s not rebellion—it’s the visual picture of soul-deep longing.

And I am not ashamed to write stories for people still in that space.

I know, not everyone will understand how I can reconcile being a Christian with writing books that don't always follow Christian rules. But I've walked a long way with Jesus after a long time without him, and my Jesus went out of his way to meet the woman at the well. The one no one else wanted to talk to. The one with stories no one wanted to hear and pain no one wanted to see. The one with a heart hardened by loss and rejection. And he didn’t shame her. He didn’t scold her. He started a conversation. He spoke gently, and he offered hope.

Jesus left the temple to show people what God looked like in the streets. He sat down to dinner with sinners. And he loved people so well they wanted the change he offered. So no, my characters aren't always clean-cut and church-ready. But neither was I when he found me—and if he hadn't met me in the darkness, I never would have been able to see his light.

*****

I hope you know I’m not writing this to stir the pot or tiptoe around shock value. I’m writing from personal experience, with the hope of warming hearts too long frozen in silence and a desire to see grace-filled storytelling offer beauty where shame has burned desperate stories to ash. I am and will always be a Christian—but God isn't limited to safe, shiny narratives with perfect people. I've never been perfect, and my narrative has rarely been safe or shiny, but I believe God works through all kinds of stories. Even the ones that start in the dark and aren’t nearly finished yet.

So if you’ve ever felt like you didn’t belong in the church because of what you’ve lived through, or questioned whether there’s space in faith for someone like you, I want you to know you’re not alone. If you're a believer who still reads stories you can't talk about in church because you still relate to the pain of life before Jesus, you're not alone in that either. I hope my writing creates space to meet in the middle, and maybe one of my stories will help you feel a sense of community that can sometimes be hard to find.

Right now, I’m about halfway through the second edit of STILL FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM, and Christine's next chapters are a tender, complicated, grace-filled exploration of the exact kind of faith-meets-feeling tension we’ve talked about here. The characters aren’t perfect, but neither are we. Most of these characters aren't Christians, but they still offer each other grace and growth our world is starving for—and while my books don't aim to bleed biblical worldview in fiction, they do carry truth, invite healing, and meet every reader right there at their personal well. Because that’s where God found me, and that's the kind of Christian I want to be. Writing what I know, from where I've been, to shine a light in the darkness for every reader who opens one of my books.

I may be a long way from the grace and honor of Jesus, but I know he called his people to go out and touch the rest of the world. In obedience to that call, I pray we all find the courage to meet people where they are, spread kindness and compassion like the plague, inspire change rather than forcing it, and as always...