Writing Sample – Fiction Excerpt
The following scene is an excerpt from a longer fictional piece, written as both a standalone short story and a potential opening chapter for a future novel. It explores themes of faith, doubt, and the collision between personal conviction and theological complexity in everyday life. This piece is shared here as a writing sample to showcase my narrative voice, character development, and ability to weave dialogue with deeper questions.
John stared out the window, his brow furrowed, unease coiling in his gut.
The cheerful chorus of the local Pentecostal congregation drifted through the walls—a sound that once stirred his soul. He used to be the first on his feet, hands raised, voice soaring with the worship team. But not today. Something had shifted. The conversation with Bob last Friday still echoed in his mind, like a pebble in his shoe he couldn’t shake loose.
Bob wasn’t just any coworker—he was a friend. Reliable. Sharp. And absolutely not a believer. They usually avoided the heavy topics—religion, politics, anything that could rattle the workplace peace. But that day, John felt a tug in his spirit. A quiet urgency.
“Bob, have you ever thought about becoming a Christian?”
Bob snorted, amused. “Christian? No, John. Piss off. You know where I stand.”
John winced at the language but pressed on. “It’s serious, Bob. What if you died today—where would your soul go?”
Bob’s expression turned from playful to cold. His voice, clipped and cutting.
“Listen. I want nothing to do with your God. And another thing—how can you say He atoned for your sins when your own Bible says the sacrifice had to happen inside the temple?”
The question struck like a slap. John blinked. “But… He did die for—”
“No!” Bob snapped. “If you can’t answer that, don’t bother.”
And just like that, he was gone—off to the break room, leaving John stunned in silence.
Now, back at church, the tension in John’s chest hadn’t eased. If Jesus didn’t die inside the temple… how could that be called atonement?
A firm hand on his shoulder jolted him. He turned quickly—Pastor Daniel stood beside him, concern in his eyes.
“John, you okay?”
John tried to smile. “Yeah, Pastor. Just tired. It’s been… a week.”
Daniel didn’t push. He just waited.
“Actually,” John said, lowering his voice, “can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“It’s Bob. He asked why Jesus’ death counts if the law says the sin offering had to be made in the temple. I didn’t know what to say.”
Daniel’s face darkened slightly, his brow creasing. “That’s not a small question. Some theologians argue Jesus made the offering in the heavenly temple after the cross. Others think He did it before the world was ever made. If I go by doctrine, I’d say it was after the crucifixion. But… the Greek in Hebrews? It hints at something deeper—atonement before time began.”
John’s eyes lit up, curiosity piercing his doubt.
“But doesn’t that change everything?”
Daniel gave a gravelly chuckle. “It just might. If atonement happened before the foundation of the world, then salvation was extended to all—from Adam onward—with repentance being the key. But if it only began after the cross…”
John finished the thought: “…then the people between the cross and the Council of Nicaea never had a chance.”
Daniel nodded slowly. “Exactly. That’s a theological dilemma. But maybe also an invitation—to understand grace differently.”
As Daniel walked off toward the coffee table where Mrs. Peterson had begun slicing carrot cake, a new thought dawned on John. Maybe he did have something to say to Bob.
The next day at work, Bob was swearing at a stubborn lug nut, his knuckles scraped and red. John wandered over, hands in his pockets.
“Need a hand?”
“Nah. I’ll break this bastard eventually.” He flexed. “Too much gunpowder in these arms.”
John chuckled, crouching beside him. “Bob… I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
Bob eyed him sideways. “Yeah?”
“I think I found your answer. Jesus didn’t just die on the cross—He made atonement in the heavenly temple. Not after. Before. Before the world even began.”
Bob froze, the wrench in his hand still.
“…You don’t say,” he muttered.
John nodded. “Yeah. And if that’s true… then maybe grace was bigger than we thought.”
Bob gave a skeptical laugh. “Huh. Well, damn. You might’ve just gotten my attention. Tell me more about this Jesus of yours.”
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