The Gospel According to Story

Why storytelling might be more sacred than we think.

I used to never read fiction.

In fact, before 2024, I couldn’t even remember the last fiction book I finished. Maybe The Hunger Games back in 2013? My whole career I strictly read non-fiction books. As someone who’s worked in ministry most of my adult life, I was always chasing growth, leadership, communication, theology, and church strategies. If it helped me preach better, lead staff meetings better, or survive another HR issue without losing my mind, I read it.

That worked for a while. 15 years, actually. But in 2024, I made a commitment to read fiction. And honestly? It changed my life.

I didn’t expect it to. I think there’s this weird stigma around fiction, like it’s fluff. That somehow, it’s not serious. Or it’s not spiritual. And it’s certainly not helpful if you're trying to grow as a leader or pastor. But I’ve found the opposite to be true. Fiction has challenged and grown me in ways that non-fiction never could. And it’s reshaped how I see the world, and my faith.

One book in particular wrecked me, in the best way. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab.

In the book, Addie makes a deal with the devil to live forever...but in exchange, she is forgotten by everyone she meets. How wild is that? No one remembers her name. No one remembers her face. She’s stuck in a forever-life where connection is impossible, until one day, someone remembers her.

The story unfolds across centuries and different cities, and while it’s wrapped in fantasy, what it’s really about is being seen. Being known. Being remembered. It’s about legacy, impact, time, mortality, and meaning. And the longing for real connection.

It tugged on my heart in a way a leadership book never could. I closed that book and thought more deeply about my life and my faith than I had in a long time.

And that started to get me thinking more seriously about storytelling.

Storytelling isn’t just entertainment. It’s how we understand ourselves and each other. It’s a universal part of being human.

Neuroscience backs this up. When we hear stories, our brains release oxytocin, the empathy chemical. It helps us connect, trust, and feel what someone else is feeling. They make us more empathetic.

The science behind storytelling is fascinating to me. Research shows our brains engage differently when processing narratives versus plain facts. Stories activate multiple brain regions simultaneously, not just language centers, but also sensory and emotional areas. This neurological engagement creates stronger memories and deeper understanding. We literally experience stories differently than information.

Stories also help us organize complex information in ways that stick with us long after we've finished reading. When researchers compared retention rates between statistical presentations and narrative formats, stories consistently won. We're wired to remember characters and plot twists better than bullet points and data.¹

I love this quote from Neil Gaiman:

“Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over.”

Stories help our brains process information better. They’re sticky. We remember them. They let us walk around in someone else’s skin without leaving our couch. And to be honest, that’s discipleship, and compassion, and growth.

Every culture on the planet tells stories. It’s how we’ve passed down knowledge, values, and identity for thousands of years. Storytelling is how we preserve memory, transfer meaning, and connect across time and space. It’s how we become a people.

And guess what? The Christian faith is built on story. It’s easy to forget that.

From Genesis to Revelation, Scripture tells one long story of God and humanity. And more importantly, Jesus didn’t hand out doctrinal statements. Instead, he told parables. These little fictional tales with eternal truths baked inside. He knew what science proves: that stories change people. And they stick.

So why don’t we read more of them?

Why don’t we use our imaginations to envision the world as it could be? To imagine a church that does what Jesus called it to do? To picture what life might look like if Jesus really was King right now?

Stories help us do that. They cultivate imagination. And imagination is the soil where hope grows.

I remember reading a book in bible college by Ted Dekker called The Slumber of Christianity. He argued that our hope, our longing for the kingdom, is often dulled by busyness, cynicism, or distraction. But imagination reawakens it. That idea hit me hard back then. I even preached my first real sermon about it. (Sorry to everyone at Wayland Baptist University who had to hear it. It was probably REALLY bad.)

But here’s my challenge to you:

If you’ve written fiction or stories off as fluff, or irrelevant to your faith, I want to gently push back. Fictional stories can grow your soul. They can shape your faith. They can change your life.

So, pick up a novel. Get lost in someone else’s world. Let your heart break. Let it expand. Put that imagination to good use.

And then tell me about it!

I’d love to hear what stories have impacted you. Maybe we could even start a book list or a faith-based fiction book club here in this little Substack community? (I love nerdy fantasy books. I’m reading Brandon Sanderson right now.)

What if churches and Christian communities started recommending fictional stories the way they recommend theology books?

I think storytelling is more sacred than we think.

P.S. Every Friday, I share a behind-the-scenes video just for paid subscribers called Behind Mainline. If you’ve been tracking with these posts and want more depth, that’s where it’s happening.

1. Research insights adapted from "The Power of Storytelling: How Our Brains Are Wired for Narratives" (Innovative Human Capital, 2023)