Contextualization

Two weeks ago, in the post Writing What You Need to Hear, I wrote this line: I can’t stand a story that speaks about Christianity in stale terms, as if there’s only one right way to incorporate faith into fiction.

 

Before I move on, let me clarify that what I’m talking about isn’t something I’ve merely seen; I’ve done it too. I’m not picking on anyone without picking on myself too. ;)

 

When I started my first novel, I wanted so badly to incorporate my Christian faith as a witness to those who might read the book, that I did just that. I made my MC a typical, angry-toward-God dumb bunny who knew nothing and brought in a holier-than-thou mentor who was perfect in behavior and knew everything. What a perfect combo, right? Now the mentor could spell everything out for the MC while the reader watches.

 

Multiple pages of one-sided dialogue ensued; when the MC spoke, it was pouring out his humiliating past all at once with no significant reservations. When the mentor talked, he spelled out an unasked-for gospel message, doing everything but leading the MC through “the sinner’s prayer.” I occasionally interrupted him with interjections from the MC about “not needing God,” or “He didn’t listen,” etc.

 

I can sum this situation up in a single word: Preachy. (Or “cliché.” Don’t mind me; I can’t count :P).

 

When I received feedback on this from a story coach, I took it with grace, but I felt attacked. Satan was trying to get faith out of my story, wasn’t he?

 

No.

 

What my coach had suggested was there was a high possibility my MC would’ve already known a lot about God, probably having attended church before the military. After all, even if one wasn’t a Christian, most people attended church in his era. Knowing my MC’s familial situation, it’s likely his aunt would’ve sent him to church as a kid, even if he stopped going in his older teen years. So, I didn’t need to spell it all out.

 

My coach also suggested making the faith-conveyance flow out of the mentor’s own personality, own experience, own words. Make it personal. Make it real. What she was suggesting was contextualization, but at the time, I didn’t know what that was. Let me explain.

 

Missionaries to foreign cultures realize it’s essential to explain the gospel in a way people understand, in a way that’s meaningful to their context. Otherwise it’s not received as a truth and gift for all people, but rather an idea or other religion from the missionary’s culture.

 

If the American goes to some islanders preaching the way the gospel is preached here in America, this is probably how it would go:

 

“The Bible says, ‘all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.’ We’ve committed sin against a holy God—sins like lying, stealing, maybe even murder. Because of God’s incredible holiness, even one lie is enough to send us to Hell for eternity. Nothing we could do could be enough to earn our way to Heaven because ‘all our righteous deeds are like filthy rags’ and ‘the wages of sin is death.’ But because God so loved the world, He sent Jesus to take our place on the cross. Three days later, Jesus rose from the dead, conquering the greatest consequence of sin: death. God says whoever believes Jesus’ sacrifice was enough payment for our sin and commits to following Him will be saved from Hell and spend forever with Him. If you believe this and want to be saved, pray this prayer with me.”

 

The problem with this is it’s so generic and ultimately foreign to the islanders—it seems so anti-cultural—to follow Christ would seem to be abandoning all traditions, family, and values. And conversions are few.

 

Failing to understand the context of the people can also reverse the intent of the gospel message. Consider this true story.

 

A missionary and his family came to a jungle people where betrayal was celebrated. If you could get someone to believe you were a friend, only to turn them in for something or kill them, you were a hero. Tribal wars were commonplace. When the missionary shared the story of Jesus as we know it, because of the people’s context and culture, the people cheered Judas on for betraying Jesus. Interesting.

 

One day, members of the tribe stole away the missionary’s young son during a conflict between them and another tribe. Terrified his son would be hurt, the missionary demanded to know what was happening. The people explained to him that they made his son a Peace Child. They made the son a tangible symbol of a treaty between the tribes. No one was allowed to harm the Peace Child.

 

The missionary then realized a way to show the people the gospel in a way they understood. He retold the story of Jesus, this time calling Him the Peace Child. Judas wasn’t a hero anymore—he betrayed the Peace Child. How could he? The story meant something to the people; they could understand. It felt natural, like there had been a wonderful rescue plan for them all along within their context. It wasn’t something the missionary brought from his world. It was a rescue story for them within their own world. And it was beautiful.

 

Even we as American’s don’t fully understand how contextualized Jesus and the apostles preached. I think we have a basic understanding, but really delving into Jewish culture makes the gospel come to life in unfathomable ways. Ways that actually choke me up when I realize how deep it goes, when I realize what it really means. I think the gospel is too big for us to understand intimately unless it’s in terms we can relate to on a deep level through things that are integrated in us because of our context and culture. The video series That the World May Know by Ray Vander Laan is an excellent resource to understand the real depth of the gospel, seeing how Jesus and the apostles drew from everyday examples to show the love of God.

 

I admit, hearing the gospel repeatedly in stale and standard terms turns me off. And then I hear it the way it’s supposed to be—100% integrated—and it moves me to humbled worship. I go from stiff and angry at the preachiness to overwhelmed with God’s love. Quite the contrast isn’t it?

 

So, as we write faith into our stories, what if we incorporate it in a way contextualized to the story world? What if we explore different ways to tell the story of Jesus? What if we shift to relatable and real terms, not stiff and unpersonal ones? What if we challenge the norm, surrounding the way we write with prayer that God will lead us to put what’s necessary and right in our stories? We might just find we not only have better, more original stories, but that we’re also writing work that actually changes someone’s life and moves them to worship. And that’s pretty cool.

…

Just as speech is invention about objects and ideas, so myth is invention about truth. We have come from God, and inevitably the myths woven by us, though they contain error, will also reflect a splintered fragment of the true light, the eternal truth that is with God. Indeed only by myth-making, only by becoming a ‘sub-creator’ and inventing stories, can Man ascribe to the state of perfection that he knew before the Fall.” — J.R.R. Tolkien

…