Golden light streaming through ancient stone archway in Jerusalem

Faith & Fiction

Does God Still Work Miracles? Faith, Doubt, and the Miraculous in Fiction

Does the God of the Bible act today? Or has He retreated to some distant corner of the universe, watching human history unfold from a respectful remove? These questions sit at the heart of faith-inspired historical fiction — because the genre almost always asks the reader to inhabit a world where the miraculous was either witnessed or desperately hoped for.

The Doubter in the Story

Historical fiction writers have a powerful tool for exploring faith: the doubting character. Thomas, who refused to believe the Resurrection until he could touch the wounds himself, is one of the most relatable figures in all of biblical narrative. He didn't believe from sentiment or tradition; he needed evidence. And Jesus, remarkably, gave him exactly that.

When we write faith-inspired fiction, we serve our readers best when we give them a Thomas figure — someone who asks the hard questions, someone who doesn't believe easily. The reader who is skeptical about faith can travel with this character without feeling preached at. The reader who already believes finds their own doubts honored and their faith deepened.

The Logic of the Miraculous

Some writers shy away from depicting miracles in fiction because they fear readers won't find them credible. But this mistake confuses the miraculous with the implausible. A scientific principle operates whether or not you believe in it: an apple falls when you drop it; an ice cube melts in sun; wind strips autumn leaves from a tree whether or not you can see the wind. The Bible describes miracle in similar terms — not as violations of natural law, but as natural law operating at a level we don't ordinarily witness.

C.S. Lewis argued in Miracles that a naturalistic worldview that excludes miracle by definition has pre-decided the question before looking at the evidence. Good fiction doesn't pre-decide. It holds the question open.

"Good fiction doesn't pre-decide the question of the miraculous. It holds the question open."

Faith in Contemporary Historical Fiction

The 21st century has seen a revival of faith-inspired historical fiction with serious literary ambitions. Books set in the ancient world of the Bible, in medieval Christendom, in colonial mission-field settings — all grapple with what it meant to encounter God in history. Some of the most compelling narrative choices in this genre involve characters who are transformed not by intellectual argument but by unlooked-for grace: a healing they didn't request, a provision they didn't expect, a voice they can't explain.

Christianity Today's fiction coverage regularly highlights novels that take this approach — treating the miraculous neither as background magic nor as cheap plot device, but as something that demands the same careful attention a novelist gives to any other element of their world.

Writing the Miraculous with Integrity

Don't explain away the miracle. If your theology allows for miracle, let it be mysterious. The moment you over-explain, you drain the scene of its power.
Show the cost of faith. Miracle in the Bible is rarely painless. It often comes after long suffering, after deep doubt, after the petitioner has run out of other options. Honor that.
Give the skeptic their due. Not every character in your world will experience the miraculous the same way. Some will dismiss what they see. That's honest and dramatically interesting.
Root the miraculous in character. The best miracle scenes in fiction are the ones where we've spent enough time with the character to understand exactly what this costs them to believe — and why they believe it anyway.

A Final Word

Faith is not a tidy thing, and faith-inspired fiction should not be tidy either. The Bible itself is full of doubt, bargaining, complaint, and silence. Jacob wrestled with God. Job demanded answers. The Psalms oscillate between terror and praise. The best historical fiction rooted in faith inherits this complexity rather than smoothing it out. When you write with that kind of honesty, readers — whether they share your faith or not — will recognize something true.