As we discussed last week, while law provides a problem, justification alone provides an answer, at least for the real world. As our stories are reflections of the real world (seen in the failure of the antinomian answer in both fields), we should then ask how we can apply this real world answer to our stories. What does a redemption arc based on Biblical justification look like?

First, we must recognize the nature of repentance. This means that the character, in order to be redeemed, cannot simply forget their wrong-doing. They must instead acknowledge it as their own and deplore it; they must abandon it upon the basis of it formerly being theirs. A partial redemption arc can get away with truncating this; a redemption arc in which the redemption is followed by the character’s near-immediate death may have no time to explore this, to have more than a peripheral recognition of evil-doing.

Sometimes, the character won’t realize the fullness of their sin or will be (especially initially) unwilling to accept that certain things they did were really wrong, unwilling to repent of them even if they recognize their wrongdoing. That’s fine. It’s part of humanity to self-deceive and refuse to repent. If this is to be a redemption arc, however, they must repent of the part of their sin which is relevant to their heel-face turn. From the reader’s perspective, the character cannot be redeemed of a sin without repenting of that sin (though, if saved by Christ, they are saved from that sin; if saved by Christ, they will come to repent of every sin they remember, given time to comprehend their sin). If the character dies or exits the story before he has time to accomplish more than the first step of this process, before he has time to really work through his history, the redemption arc can still work, provided you communicate to the reader the character’s sincere intent to tread the path of repentance, if he were given the time or while he’s off-page. Such an arc will be more reliant on a sacrificial act than on a full-blown redemption process.

Second, a full redemption is incomplete without a redeemer. Without a redeemer, law rather than justification rules; the sinner must still bear his sin, as he has no redeemer to bear it for him. In real life, this redeemer is Christ. In stories, the redeemer varies. It may be Christ; it can be, I think (particularly for allegory or highly symbolic works), a Christ-figure. Nevertheless, somebody must bear the punishment of the sin if the redemption is to be more than a forestalling of judgement, more than papering over the ugliness.

This part of the arc does not necessitate an explicitly Christian framework. The theology can instead be woven into the story on a subtextual level, whether by reference or in an implicit understanding of the Christian repentance. In this I advise that you, as I do, take reference from the saints of the Old Testament. They did not know the details and all the fullness of Christ’s coming, but they were aware nonetheless, as was communicated by the sacrifices of the patriarchs (Gen. 46:1), of the necessity of a substitute to take the place of mankind if he were to be saved, a sacrifice the Mosaic sacrifices presaged (Heb. 5:3, 7:27). They did not yet see clearly as we do the work of Christ, but they could rely on Him nevertheless in faith for His provision of one who would make repentance more than a pretense at amnesia.¹ You may also take the yet more subtle course of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, where the possibility of redemption is offered without recourse to explicit justification but with an implicit understanding that redemption requires a legitimate change of heart and change of course, that it requires forgiveness and not merely forgetfulness, that it does not evade the past.²

Third, don’t let the justification and repentance be the end of the arc. Repentance must lead to sanctification, if the character survives long enough. A believable redemption arc isn’t just a single heel-face turn. No, the redemption is a new path. The human-sacrificing witchdoctor can’t just say he’s unhappy about his past and go waddling off into the sunset; he must change his path, abstaining from human sacrifice, seeking to bring healing where he once brought death, repenting in deed as well as word. If the repentance is true, it includes a sincere hatred for the sin which necessitated it; while the character’s course will likely not be perfectly steady, that course will tend away from that which he has repented, if the repentance was true.

Further, the reader won’t buy a redemption arc where the only reason to believe in the redemption is real is the author’s insistence and a palette swap on the character’s uniform. Skin deep changes tend to be skin deep; redemption needs to go past the skin, past the bones, to the heart of the character. Having reached the heart, it must come back out in all he does, so that the reader can learn of that change of heart, may see it worked out. Words are cheap; works cost.

Likewise, remember that the redemption cannot be too easy for the character himself. Repentance is a difficult process, more difficult the more the sin is understood, the greater it is, the more ingrained it is. The vice the character struggles with doesn’t just go away. If he has a quick temper, he won’t suddenly have perfect control of it just because he recognizes that what he did was wrong. He’ll struggle to control it, fail sometimes, succeed at others. Some of his vices he may not yet recognize or deplore. Even apart from his vices, he is still the same person. Repentance does not make a smart man unintelligent, an emotional man cold, or a loyal man a traitor, though it will definitely affect how he expresses those traits.

Note that redemption arcs are complicated and varied. Some ‘redemption arcs’ are more properly termed ‘redemptive acts’. Take, for instance, the end of the original Star Wars trilogy, where Vader turns on the Emperor.³ He doesn’t really live long enough to have a post-redemption arc; at most he has an epilogue. The meat of his redemption, therefore, is his action, his self-sacrifice. Such redemptive-self-sacrifice is a legitimate part of fiction, but you must be recognize first that such a redemption may not get into the tricky questions, may simply be a ‘he’s dead, and he died well’. Rather than addressing the question, it implies that having repented of the central evil, he would, had he lived, have come in time to repent of the rest, to amend his ways, with the sacrificial act as a token of his sincerity. Some readers won’t agree that it qualifies as a true redemption; some will. The individual circumstances matter too much here to generalize more.

Further, besides the character’s own continuing arc, we must remember the continuing presence of that character’s evildoing in the history of the world around him. Characters will still hate him, will have good reason to do so. The world will remember what he’s done, will not immediately or easily accept his change. Even when people don’t hold it against him, it will influence their understanding of him. Some characters may even seek to use it as leverage against him, to guilt, blackmail, or otherwise influence him to do what they want. It may work, depending on his character, his wisdom and how he has manifested his repentance (as noted above, repentance doesn’t mean instant meekness or a lack of cunning). Just because he’s changed doesn’t mean it never happened. History remains the same, and he has to deal with that.

As I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear, this presents fertile ground for character and plot development. How characters respond to the repentance of the former villain will vary. What was their relationship before? How were they directly affected? What temperament do they have, what convictions on redemption and forgiveness? Some may hold that redemption is impossible. Some may accept it, regardless of their doubts, purely from pragmatism. How the world responds can vary similarly. Don’t forget either that a character’s redemption arc doesn’t make him perfect; in fact, a character in the later stages of his redemption arc is likely still fraught with potential for story in how he reacts to his own history, whether directly or as the world around him reminds him of it, how he responds to other’s responses. Takes advantage of this.⁴

Redemption arcs are hard and complicated and wildly variable. I’ve sought to provide a core idea here, but ever story, real life or fiction, will vary at least a little, often a lot. I entirely left out the discussion of the failed redemption- like Gollum in The Lord of the Rings, who I still think had the potential to overcome his sin but failed. Nevertheless, all redemption arcs, if they’re more than surface-deep, will have to deal with the problems of history, of sin, of forgiveness, of repentance, and of the good-doings which that repentance ought to motivate. They will have to deal with how the world responds, with the way characters respond, with how even the most thorough redemption leaves scars behind. This truth is, in sum, a mirror of this world, where sin has left much damage, where even the greatest of men are sinners in need of His redemption, where full healing will be found only in the final resurrection of the body (1 Cor. 15:35-49), in the new heavens and the new earth (Is. 65:17).

God bless.

Footnotes

1 – Antinomian ‘grace’ is exactly this. Grace given on the basis of pretending the sin never happened is not grace; it is rather a lie (and God does not lie). Forgiveness must be based on justice fulfilled by mercy, not on forgetfulness.

2 – Of course, most characters with potential redemption arcs in The Lord of the Rings don’t get the good ending.

3 – I haven’t watched these, but I know the plot summary. Kinda.

4 – The redemption arc’s main character doesn’t need to be around (or alive) for other characters to struggle with the idea of his redemption.