​Maybe you saw it, maybe you didn’t. I wouldn’t blame you if you scrolled right past it. After all, Bookstagram is always fussing over one drama or another.

I scrolled past the first few posts, but after the fifth video, I took notice. Because, well, I like Bookstagram, and I like other people’s drama.

But what was the drama?

A bookstagrammer with a substantial following posted about how she would now only read books with “Biblical convictions.”

That’s great, right? We support people finding their own convictions around here!

But upon closer inspection, those “Biblical convictions” were “get rid of all secular books and anything I don’t like.” And the majority of those books specifically dealt with underrepresented people groups and topics. As more information came out, her post looked more and more like a PR stunt to attract followers—which it did.

I’m not here to speculate about whether her convictions are real or not. I’m not here to judge whether her convictions were good or not. Nowhere in this post do I intend it to come across that I look down on or don’t support people who choose to read only clean books or only Christian books.  

But I am here to discuss how this controversy reveals some toxic ideas that lurk in Christian and clean fiction spaces.

The biggest problem with this post was that it framed this influencer’s opinion as Biblical convictions.

The problem with phrasing it that way is that it then implies that anyone who doesn’t share my opinions—including other Christians—must not be Biblically convicted.

Here’s the thing—there aren’t any Bible verses that say “thou shalt read this” and “thou shalt not read that.” (Correct me if I missed one, but believe me, I checked.)

Like many life issues, the Bible doesn’t contain specific commands about what we can and cannot read. But it does contain ideas and principles that can help us decide what we read.

Principles, unlike direct commands, come with a wide range of interpretations. Which is how I have friends who exclusively read Christian books, and I have friends who read heavier books than I do. Everybody interprets those principles differently. This is one of those issues where there’s not a universal right or wrong answer.

There are books that I will not read because they would be wrong for me, but those books may not be wrong for another person. When we choose what we will or not read, we choose what we believe will help us become a person who glorifies God and who loves the people around them.

For instance, I don’t read any open-door sexual content. It puts me in a negative and fearful headspace, so it’s not beneficial to me.

But I also follow a Christian author who reads some open-door sexual content as part of her healing from purity culture. Is that wrong for her? Only she knows.

She and I interpreted the same ideas and principles differently, but, to the best of my knowledge, we both did so out of Biblical convictions.

Is there ever a time when a book is morally wrong for everyone across the board? I’m sure there is. I’m sure a book exists somewhere that is not beneficial to anyone who reads it. But I have never encountered such a book free and in the wild.

This echoes a wider issue within Christian and clean fiction spaces. Rather than provide a space for people with similar interpretations to find books to love, these spaces often become a place to tear down any book that doesn’t align with our personal moral code, and, by default, anyone who reads them.

This stems from fear, more so than from any interpretation or conviction. How much of what we call our convictions is actually fear to engage with these harder, trickier topics?

To be clear, when I say fear, I don’t mean choosing to avoid certain content due to experiences you have had or because it doesn’t affect you well. In fact, if you’ve come to that conclusion, it shows you’ve thought about it, which is the exact opposite of avoiding the topic. Taking care of yourself and your mind is not fear.

I can say all this because I was very much that reader. I would stand in the bookstore, scrolling review after review, agonizing over whether buying a particular book would doom my soul. My carefulness wasn’t any thought about whether a book would be beneficial for me. It was straight-out fear.

Fear that if I wrestled with an issue, if I dealt with my doubts, then I would be lost forever. Fear that if another Christian saw me reading such a book, they would look down on me.

A lot of this was due to my upbringing, as well as the tactics my abuser used against me. I had to reckon with those ideas and come to my own conclusions. I had to try some things that I was afraid to try.

And guess what? I still don’t read some of those topics I avoided. But I’ve realized that there are others that I can engage with and consider. And by dealing with those uncertainties, I’ve become both a stronger person and a stronger Christian.

The same book could lead me to a positive change and more compassion towards others while it might do the opposite for another person.

Art is subjective. So it follows that choosing what art we engage with is also a subjective process.

We can build spaces where we can discuss and share those applications, whether we agree or disagree, without fear. And that starts when we realize that our interpretations aren’t law.

My Applications

In light of everything I’ve written in this article, I thought I’d take a brief moment to talk about my applications. That way, when you check out my reviews, my stories, or my articles, you know exactly what I might get into. Feel free to discuss how yours are the same or different in the comments—let’s start some healthy conversations.

I do also want to note that I read far more in content overall than I typically write.

Language

Reading: I do read some books with language, although I prefer books that don’t. If the language is excessive or contains repeated uses of harsh swears, I will only read the book once, or limit the times I reread, just so those words aren’t the first words my brain reaches for. My pet peeve is misuses of God’s name, though, which makes sense with my Christian background.

Writing: I do not write books with language. It would be all too easy for me to make swear a “fast fix”, and this way, my books may appeal to a wider audience.

LGBTQIA+

Reading: I do read books with LGBTQIA+ topics. I’m still sorting out my own beliefs and applications on this one. Wherever I ultimately land, the fact remains that queer people are real people, and excluding real people doesn’t help anyone. I read so I can listen and learn to be more compassionate to real people.

Writing: At this time, I do not write LGBTQIA+ topics because I still have a lot more listening and learning to do before I can portray it sensitively. However, I may approach these topics in my stories someday.

Sexual Content

Reading: I do not read any open-door sexual content, simply because I don’t enjoy reading it. If the book keeps it contained to a single scene, I will skip the scene and enjoy the rest of the book. However, if it contains multiple scenes, I will DNF the book. I will read books with implied, fade-to-black (although it’s not my fave), and closed-door sexual content.

Writing: I do not write open-door sexual content. Heck, I barely even write romantic subplots. If (big if) I deal with sexual topics, they will be all implied or closed-door.

Violence

Reading: I read books with explicit violence/gore. (Interestingly, though, I can’t watch explicit gore in movies or shows. It freaks me out.)

Writing: I write books with violence and gore, although not consistently, and the gore falls on the milder side.

Other Sensitive Topics              
                                                                                     
I do frequently read and write books that deal with sensitive topics such as trauma, abuse, and mental health issues. I’m very passionate about seeing these topics represented well in fiction.

There you have it. My assorted thoughts on a fussy little Bookstagram drama. But in the spirit of this post, I want to start a discussion with you! What do your interpretations look like, and how did you get there? What did you agree with in this post? What did you disagree with? 

Did she just say what I think she said?

I parked the car and pulled out my phone, quickly googling the song lyrics I just heard.

Sure enough, I had clearly heard the lines “Lord in heaven above, I need you to send me a life boat” and “He sees you” on a popular mainstream album.

I found RAYE’s music the way many people did—via Instagram. So when she dropped her second album, THIS MUSIC MAY CONTAIN HOPE, a lot of people were paying attention, myself included.

Another quick Google search confirmed that RAYE is openly Christian.

That changed my next listen-through of the album. Because it turns out RAYE and her album had a lot to show me about Christian art.

First, RAYE makes good art.

Duh. Right? Of course, Christians should make good art.

But RAYE went a step further. She created an album so good, even people who don’t share her exact beliefs are listening and relating and sharing it with others.

Her album isn’t just “good” for a Christian album. Her album is excellent as an album, period. All the songs tell a story, and she gently moves her listeners through the journey from despair to hope alongside her. She embraces her unique sound and style, and it stands out.

It’s clear from every single track that RAYE truly loves what she does, she cares about her listeners, and she loves the musicians that she works with. Her final track is four minutes of her reading the names of all the people who helped her create the album, for heavens’ sake.

And she is getting recognized for it. It’s not just her that says her album is good, and it’s not even just Christians that think it is either. She is being recognized as a master of her craft.

We as Christians want books and movies where we can explore our beliefs through the power of story. It’s a fantastic thing to want. But sometimes, I wonder if we want it so much that we’ll accept subpar quality as long as they share our beliefs.

Sure, that movie had a really weak plot, but it had good messages, right? Maybe that book could have used another pass through editing, but it had a conversion scene, so it must be good.

But why am I picking on Christian stories? It’s no secret that mainstream books have their poorly written stories, too.

God doesn’t need us to make perfect art. He’s not suffering because that one book wasn’t absolutely perfect. God is God, no matter what. And He delights in us and the ways we demonstrate our love for Him, even if it’s imperfect.

Creating art is about the audience. The readers, the viewers, the listeners. I can create something that makes them smile, something that makes them discover the world in a new way, something that makes them feel seen. And when I do that, I show them a tiny sliver of who God is—that He sees them, too. How cool is that?
But in order to do that, I have to tell a story worth reading.

We’re imperfect. We’re going to create imperfect art and stories. Nobody gets it all right on the first try. But our art and our stories, whether the ones we write or the ones we lift up, should show that we’re learning and growing, committed to doing the best we can.

RAYE is only on her second album, and she’s already worked to make the best art that she can right now.

Second, RAYE embraces a range of experiences and emotions.

Sometimes I have a hard time with Christian music.

Almost every Christian song that gets airplay today restates a truth or a Scripture passage. And that’s wonderful! Having those truths put to music helps them spring to my mind when I need them.

But there aren’t Christian songs that talk about how it feels to be depressed. Or angry, or anxious. 

So when I need a song that will give me a good cry, where do I go? Mainstream albums. And why? Because they’re actually putting words to I’m feeling, rather than offering helpful truths for what I’m feeling.

We need both.

RAYE wrote tracks that quote Scripture and restate truths (such as Life Boat and Joy).

But she also has songs about the men who did her dirty. She has songs about addiction and depression and hating her body. She has songs about friendship and heartbreak. No topic is off limits.

Sometimes her songs mention God by name. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes she reaches the end of a song, and she’s still depressed. On rare occasions, she even *gasp* swears. Her songs, even the cleanest ones, will likely never see Christian radio airplay.

She’s messy about it.

And that’s why I return to her songs when I’m hurting. She has songs that speak the words in my heart, not the words that I think good Christian girls should be saying.

And like the title says, that’s why her album ultimately contains hope. She embraces the dark places and the journey back out. She doesn’t sugarcoat them or make them more palatable. She doesn’t ignore dark things. She sings about them instead.

And both those elements—good art and the full human experience—lead us here. To a Christian singer who incorporates her faith into her albums and still reaching a mainstream audience.

For me, a Christian artist, it makes me look at my own projects. Am I committed to making the best art I can? Do I incorporate the full range of human emotion, or do I stick to the topics deemed “safe” for polite company?

But you don’t have to be an artist. What about the Christian art I take in? Do I seek out well-made art and celebrate the ones who do it well? Do I seek out stories that incorporate all human emotion, or just the experiences I can relate to or that I feel safe sharing with my friends?

The problem with Christian art today isn’t that we don’t have enough of it. And it’s not the Christian art we already have is bad. It’s that we don’t have enough range.

RAYE’s album contains hope that we’re changing that.

If you’ve got an hour and a half to spare, I recommend you give THIS MUSIC MAY CONTAIN HOPE a try. It may teach you some things about Christian art, or maybe it will reach you in a dark place and help you journey toward hope.

Have you listened to RAYE’s new album? What did you think? Even if you haven’t listened to RAYE, what other artists do you love listening to? Let me know in the comments below.

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult fantasy. I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want and maybe a metaphor about grief. Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates on my dieselpunk Anastasia reimaging. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! ​