Redemption Arcs and Unexpected Grace
The theological implications of redemption in stories
While some may consider it cliché, one of my favorite tropes in fiction is that of the redemptive villain arc. When done well, redemptive villain arcs can be one of the most powerful threads of any story. However, I find that when villain motives are based in an inadequate understanding of human nature and grace, redemption stories fall flat because they cease to actually portray anything that resembles redemption. The common set up is a villain character who is bad but has some good traits. He’s really a likeable person and is just really confused or misguided. Then as the story progresses, he comes to the realization that he’s been a bad person and resolves to do better. Maybe he’s surprised by unexpected kindness. He leaves his life of villainy behind and is now a redeemed villain.
Theologically, redemptive characters shouldn’t be portrayed as really just good people who need a push to the good side. Rather, powerful redemptive arcs come from undeserving characters being confronted by grace.
Flannery O’Connor and Shocking Grace
Flannery O’Connor, a twentieth century Catholic writer whose stories can often be grotesque, disturbing, and haunting, is famous for short stories such as “A Good Man is Hard to Find” and “Good Country People.” I’ve read a handful of O’Connor’s short stories (I have her collected works on my shelf), and usually can only read one at a time because of how shocking they are. They are close-the-book-and-think-for-a-while kinds of stories. Often, a despicable, pride-consumed character is confronted by some sort of violent occurrence, and as a result, through that shocking grace, is brought to the reality of his own sin1. Literature professor Karen Swallow Prior writes:
“This burst of unexpected violence is a signature move for O’Connor: sudden, inexplicable, and disorienting. But such violence in O’Connor is never gratuitous or unnecessary. No, with O’Connor it is always the most necessary violence of all, reflecting the violence of Christ’s crucifixion, the means God uses to offer the grace that saves.”2
Ever since learning about Flannery O’Connor and her works, this idea has stuck with me: grace is shocking. Grace is shocking because we do not deserve it. We are pride-consumed rebels who want nothing more than to dethrone God. And yet—and yet—“while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8 ESV). Jesus Christ, God incarnate, took the penalty we deserve, satisfying the wrath of God, an infinite debt we could never dream of repaying. Grace doesn’t mean we try our hardest and God makes up for the difference, as Mormons teach.3 Redemption doesn’t mean that we slowly resolve to be better people.
The Theological Considerations
However, in how both our modern evangelical theology and our stories portray redemption, there is a perverse idea that somehow redemption means choosing to be a better person. As J.I. Packer once wrote:
“…we appeal to men as if they all had the ability to receive Christ at any time; we speak of his redeeming work as if he had done no more by dying than make it possible for us to save ourselves by believing…we depict the Father and the Son, not as sovereignly active in drawing sinners to themselves, but as waiting in quiet impotence ‘at the door of our hearts’ for us to let them in…But it needs to be said with emphasis that this set of twisted half-truths is something other than the biblical gospel…it represents a characteristic perversion of biblical teaching by the fallen mind of man, who even in salvation cannot bear to renounce the delusion of being master of his fate and captain of his soul.”4
Christianity teaches that Jesus died for those who would be saved, his death completely and sufficiently atones for sin, and “before the foundation of the world” (Ephesians 1:4 ESV) God predestined those who would repent and believe. Because man’s desires are corrupted by sin, it takes a supernatural regeneration by the Holy Spirit for someone to repent and believe.
We cannot save ourselves—we are dead, blind, lost, wretched creatures who love our sin and hate the God who created us—and only through a supernatural changing of our hearts by God can we repent and believe (Matthew 11:25-26; John 6:44, 10:26; Romans 9). Even though we don’t deserve it, and can never deserve it, Christ died for us—and He died once and for all and His death is sufficient and effective (Romans 6:10; Hebrews 10:10-14).
This is shocking grace.
This is what it means to be redeemed.
What could be more shocking to modern man in our self-determination age than to learn that he needs saving, but is unable to save himself, and does not want to save himself? And what is even more shocking than the realization that despite man’s inability to save himself, God did so anyway—by dying in his place?
Redemption Arcs in Stories
How a writer views man’s sinfulness and how we are saved relates directly to how a writer portrays redemption arcs. Too often redemption arcs are portrayed as an event wherein the villainous character is presented with a choice, related to a foreshadowed virtue, and ultimately redeems himself based upon his own proclivities. Grace, in this case, opens a door by which the villain can choose to be a better person—and is not truly the shocking grace discussed above.
Here are just a few of my favorite examples of redemption arcs in fiction:
Eustace in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis. Eustace is the rude, self-assured, and rationalistic cousin of the Pevensie children. Unexpected grace comes for him when he takes a cursed treasure and turns into a dragon. He becomes a human again when Aslan removes his scales, which is painful for Eustace. But Eustace recognizes how awful he treated everyone because of this experience.
Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. In this classic Gothic novel, Mr. Rochester is a proud man, but he is humbled by the most unexpected of circumstances: his estate burns down and the accident leaves him blind. At the end of the novel, he tells Jane: “Divine justice pursued its course, disasters came thick on me…I began to experience remorse, repentance; the wish for reconciliation to my Maker.”5 The disaster was an unexpected grace for a character who otherwise would wallow in self-pity rather than repent.
Vegeta in Dragon Ball Z by Akira Toriyama. In this manga and anime series, Vegeta is an arrogant, cruel warrior and rival to the protagonist. Starting out as a delightfully despicable villain, this proud character is broken and humiliated over and over again, and the series presents an unexpected grace in the form of ultimate failure. He is actively not interested in changing, but the story has other ideas.
Conclusion
Redemption arcs should not be about “broken” and “soft” antiheroes realizing how special they are and how they were made this way by an oppressive society. Redemption arcs should not be about a villainous character starting to make better choices without a sufficient catalyst, a gracious event outside of themselves. Redemption arcs should be about undeserving, despicable characters being shocked by grace, jarred by something other than themselves, brought to repentance and genuine abhorrence of their sin.
In this way, good stories echo the beauty of the Christian gospel.
1Karen Swallow Prior. On Reading Well: Finding the Great Life Through Great Books (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2018), 229
2Prior, On Reading Well, 227.
3Jared Jenkins. “What Do Mormons Believe About Grace?” The Gospel Coalition, August 17, 2023, https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/mormon-grace/
4J.I. Packer. “‘Saved by His Precious Blood’: An Introduction to John Owen’s The Death of Death in the Death of Christ,” in A Quest for Godliness: The Puritan Vision of the Christian Life (2010; repr., Wheaton: Crossway, 1990), 126-133.
5Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre (1980; repr., Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), 434-435.
Excellent article. I can’t agree more that God’s grace to me has always been shocking - scandalous even. When He lets me face my own blackness - even the desperate desire to change seems to come from outside of me. The Holy Spirit gives me the will to both repent and change.