EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION xvii What do we mean when we say that? It must indicate that the story has touched on something we relate to because of experiencing something like it or believe to be fundamentally true about ourselves or the world. In other words, the most powerful stories are those that are in a dynamic relationship, either positive or negative, to the worldview we hold. The Bible is not a work of fiction, but it does contain stories. The telling of the trials of David and Goliath and Solomon and Bathsheba are universally powerful because they touch upon themes, fear and temptation, that all human beings grapple with to one extent or another. All of these stories are there for a purpose, they all convey lessons about what is true or false, good or wicked, wise or foolish. Jesus was a frequent storyteller: “All these things Jesus said to the crowds in parables; indeed, he said nothing to them without a parable.” (Matthew 13:34). The purpose of the stories He told was not entertainment but instruction. His intent was to teach truths that would transform the heart and alter behavior. To do that, the parables describe particular situations with universal applicability. But that universal applicability can only be achieved by being attached to the reality of our world. Of course, we cannot say that the purpose of all literature is to convey spiritual truth. But all literature is directed toward an audience and attempts to engage that audience. To do that, it must “speak to them,” which is to address in some way and to some extent, the questions of worldview. It need not do this explicitly or abundantly or with intent; it may just be the atmosphere in which the story moves, but that atmosphere must be breathable for human beings—it must engage the world in which we live to gather the power necessary to move the reader. But what of purely fictional worlds, literary worlds that bear no relation to the world in which we live? There are none. As grandiose as our imaginative constructions might be, they are never entirely original. They never stand fully on their own. Their foundations must be laid on reality. The centaur, for example, is but the intermingling of two pre-existing beings, beings that we did not create—nor could we conceive of them on our own ex nihilo. All this to say only that all imagination has some basis in reality and therefore must bear some indications of the truth of things.
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy MTM4ODY=