To Whom It May Concern

In light of two recent incidents, I have to write this, or I'm not going to be able to sleep. :-) Twice this week, I've heard or heard about speakers trashing novels...or calling them trash. One at a marriage conference a friend attended, and one at a service I listened to. Obviously, I have an opinion on this. So here we go--me on my soap box. Take a picture; this doesn't happen very often.

I've been writing stories since first grade. I wrote all through elementary, took a lengthy correspondence course throughout high school, signed up for advanced English/grammar classes in college. I've saved piles of old story ideas and rejection letters. I've paid to go to conferences and enter contests, spent hours critiquing and being critiqued. I've hunted for the right verse to speak to my character or to provide a theme. I've typed prayers on my computer in moments of frustration or when I needed direction or when I wanted to praise God for speaking to me through one of my projects.

Years of work. My life's calling. A deep desire that SOMEONE put inside of me...to write stories. Fiction. Novels. Ones that glorify God or teach a truth or just provide clean entertainment.

And you call this trash?

I don't think so.

Besides all of the above, here are some of my thoughts on the subject:

Stories capture attention and hold it in a way that laying out the facts often cannot. They draw in the reader, make them involved, and allow them to see and feel things from a different perspective or in a clearer light.

Through reading novels I have seen God's love for fallen man a little more clearly. I have witnessed the transformation of the demon-possessed man at the tombs when Jesus stopped by. I've laughed over funny situations and had my mood lightened after an escape into a world crazier than my own. I have been challenged to love my husband more, and have realized once again how much God loves me. I have cried over the plight of the underground church and have been burdened over the orphaned children in Africa. I've prayed to be less selfish like the pastor who gave what he had even when it meant his own children might not eat that night.

Yes, it's fiction. The stories didn't really happen, or at least not exactly like I read them. But they still touch lives. They've touched my own, stuck with me. They reach many people who would never pick up an intense self-help-type book. The words can convict, heal, entertain, show God's love, teach how a Christian should respond to situations, show that there's forgiveness when we fail. Share verses appropriate to different situations. Even include mini Bible studies through the story itself or the discussion questions often included at the end.

How can you call that worthless? How can you dismiss it with a careless word? A word that may influence many others? that could make them think they are doing something wrong by picking up a novel? that could make them repress their own calling to write, to share truth through fiction?

Jesus Himself used stories to teach truth. Parables. Fiction.

Trash?

I don't think so.