Fiction in the Bible?

Critics of the Bible often decry it as a massive piece of fiction. Some even deny that Jesus existed at all. The Christian response is often to launch into an effort to convince the non-believer that the Bible is true and, of course, it is.  But angrily rushing at critics is probably not the best way to respond.   

It is a provable fact that the Bible is more historically attested than many ancient secular documents which are themselves almost universally accepted as genuine.  Whether or not the Bible is accepted as a supernatural book, it is increasing being proven as a historically accurate document.  The kings and kingdoms mentioned actually existed.  Many of the places mentioned have been found by digging where the Bible says they were.  The problem for the Christian apologist is that these arguments will probably fall on skepticism-deafened ears.

I recently found an old book from 1946 which gave me an insight about which I had never before thought.   The book is How to Read the Bible, by Dr. Edgar Goodspeed.  Dr. Goodspeed points out that the parables of Jesus were fictional.  Jesus was a master storyteller; it was his “favorite and characteristic vehicle.”  He used his stories, some of which are as short as a sentence in length, to teach spiritual insights in a simple and clear manner.

A very good opening to start with a non-believer might be Jesus’s parables.  Once the non-believer is interested in the parables, the Christian should point out that though the parables are clearly fictional, the Bible itself is historically based.  Even if the non-believer cannot be brought to a place of conviction, they may at least come to a place where they recognize that the events depicted in the Bible actually happened. This is progress which may later bear fruit.

The Elevator

Below is one of my short stories, in this case a 266 word micro-story entitled The Elevator.


We often fail to recognize opportunities when they are presented to us.  How many times have you said to yourself, "I should have said ..."?  This is frustrating, but when the opportunity missed is one in which the Gospel could have been presented the situation is not only frustrating, but tragic.


                                         THE ELEVATOR

            Hospital elevators are lonely, anonymous places. People don’t really see each other there.

            When I got on the elevator on the eleventh floor, I immediately saw the massively obese white man with a stubbly three-day old beard.  His knit shirt fit very snugly and his vulgarly exposed navel was an enormous gaping cavern in which a small dog could have hidden. He was a nascent heart attack.

            I tried not to stare, but his labored breathing wouldn’t let me ignore him.  He had the pained wheeze that extremely fat people get, as if just standing up was a struggle.  He sounded as if it would kill him on the spot if he ever were forced to run.

            “What floor?”

            I said, “One.”

            The fat man’s stubby finger pressed the button.

            “Six.”

            I turned around; the voice had come from behind me.

            The well-groomed black man was tall and handsome. I hadn’t noticed him as I entered the cabin ... perhaps because of the fat man.

            “Six.”

            The fat man didn’t move.

            “Six.”

            Nothing.

            “Six.”

            I realized what was going on and, in a flash of anger, my hand flitted over to the button panel and pressed number six.  I thought about confronting the fat man, but I hesitated.  I knew he wouldn’t care what I said and I wondered if the black man would be embarrassed.

            When we got off the elevator, the fat man waddled off to work on his heart attack.  The black man never said anything.  He quietly got off the elevator and vanished into anonymity.  I went to my car, unhappy with myself.