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Discover weekly, the best short stories

Looking for a steady supply of christian short stories? Every week thousands of writers submit stories to our writing contest.

Christian Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. If you’re looking for the best Christian short stories, whether they’re funny, didactic, or inspirational, this page is for you.

Christian Short Stories – Page 2

A Daughter’s Regret

Weekly Contest #369

I regret not writing stories told of my dad’s childhood, his school days, his college years, when he and mother met and married. It was careless of me and a bit prideful, too. Careless in that being a child and hearing “Back in my day. . “ a million times and instantly being bored, eyes rolling. Prideful thinking my memory (or his) would hold through the years. Maybe we remember only the things that are really important.The things I do remember: him telling me he always wore a tie with his white t-shirts in the early 60s, dating a girl named...

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Isle of mourning

Weekly Contest #369

Isle of mourning‘Welcome on this beautiful day. We hope you have a pleasant journey with us. Thank you for..’ The Intercom of the ferry is pushed to the background of my mind. I feel a cold metal object in my right hand. My eyes wander to the object. It is a brown old suitcase. I have never seen it before. Why am I holding a vintage suitcase? Maybe a more urgent question: What the heck am I doing on a ferry? I frantically look around to find some answers. I should have listened to the voice over. There seems to be no one in this cabin. Is th...

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The Empty Chair

Weekly Contest #369

THE EMPTY CHAIR           A grotesque scream erupted from the heap on the floor. It took a moment to realize the heap was me. No parent should ever have to write their child’s eulogy. That kind of pain doesn’t politely knock; it breaks the door off the hinges and walks in like it owns the place.           People love to offer small fortune-cookie philosophies in grief. “It’s not the destination; it’s the journey,” someone said to me....

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Angela

Weekly Contest #369

I watched as he took it away. The guy barely spoke English, but we both understood he was here to tow my car away. I was using Google Translate to translate what we were saying, and I’m not a hundred percent confident that it was speaking clearly. I felt the same about my life. What am I doing here? How did it come to this? I asked the man if he still needed the manual from my car; it was the only thing I didn’t clean out of the red 2023 Nissan Altima from the day before. Of course, he said no. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was un...

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The Missing Chrome.

Weekly Contest #369

After forty years of pacing and praying in the cloister, Sister Heloise was about to steer some steel. The Convent was affectionately known as the Prayers for Lost Causes, somewhere on the fringes of Old Blithering. She read the official letter to her smiling community of senior nuns. "Bishop O' Malley is very pleased to inform you that funds are adequate to purchase the convent a hatchback. Here is the address of the Car Dealer." Sister Philomena spoke up, as the leader and former Principal of their careers as educators. "Sister Heloise, I ...

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Nativity Reborn

Weekly Contest #369

In the years following World War II, Clark Air Base in Angeles City, Pampanga, was alive with the restless energy of young American servicemen stationed thousands of miles from home.Among them was twenty-year-old Joe Adkins, an American whose life had already been shaped by war. His father had been killed at Pearl Harbor when Joe was very young, leaving him to be raised by his mother in the small town of Front Royal, Virginia. Joe, with a strong passion to make something of himself, decided he would leave home, family, and community, and fin...

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The Secret of Flowers

Weekly Contest #368

Pocatello, Idaho, 1950“Janie, can you help me with these?” Grandma calls over her shoulder from the garden bed.Grandma is a no-nonsense kind of woman–the kind of woman who gets down on her hands and knees in the dirt in a dress and heels. Little Janie watches her curiously from the front steps of the house. “Grandma, why are you planting flowers when it's cold?” Janie asks in her small voice.“It’s spring, Janie–you plant pansies in the spring. As soon as the soil is ready.” She says through labored breaths, flecks of dirt catching in he...

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The Sacred Scarf

Weekly Contest #368

Everyone called her Babe. She disliked the name Babs as it reminded her of some early 50’s sitcom character that wore a pink poodle skirt. She was damaged in a way a lot of orphans are. Missing a piece of themselves. Yearning to know her past, the memory of one’s own parental nurture, nurtured from one’s history. Having missed the most basic of human contact, parent and child, she had always felt lost and cheated.The one thing she treasured was a photo of her birth mother Barbara, whom she was named after. She slightly resembled her mother i...

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Life Line

Weekly Contest #367

I find it refreshing to be disconnected from social media, but I must admit I am connected more than I’m not. With all the noise on social media, it seems everyone has something to say, and while their words may be true, there are only so many ways to say something. It’s exhausting at times to be so connected in this world.  Rarely do we hear someone say, “There's no going back now.” The point of this story is to encourage you to be vulnerable enough to ask for help when you need it. I understand how difficult it can be to reach out to ...

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The Woman Who Will Not Let Things Slide – There's no going back now. - Never Go Back

Weekly Contest #367

PreambleThere is no going back. Months of relentless trial have already rewritten the landscape, leaving just one choice: move forward, one step at a time, trusting in grace to bear the weight and reclaim what was always hers. What follows is a reflection on fierce resilience—a testament to the profound exhaustion and quiet courage of walking a heavy road alone. It is an honest look at weathering financial strain, holding firm to boundaries without losing compassion, and refusing to let circumstance strip away one's dignity or faith.OutlineT...

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The Price of Love

Weekly Contest #367

About the Story I wanted to write a story that shows the reality of loving and dating someone who is very different from you. Sometimes we fall in love with people who have different beliefs, values, and ways of life. Love can be beautiful, but it can also bring hard choices. At twenty-five years old, Stacey believed she had her life all planned out. She was a faithful Christian, active in her church, and known by her friends as someone who always tried to do the right thing. She loved helping at church events, singing in the choir, and spe...

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A Whimper or a Bang /Short Letter to my dead ex-husband

Weekly Contest #367

CW: Coerced abortion A Whimper or a Bang /Short Letter to my dead ex-husband A Whimper or a Bang  A month before his death, my ex-minister-husband texted me. “I would prefer that you not attend my funeral.” I wanted to text back, “Gracious as ever, on your way out,” but I went with the decidedly more Christian, “Of course, I will respect your wishes. God bless you.” That would be a wrap if there were such a thing.  If he hadn’t made his dying request or if I hadn’t agreed to it, I would be sitting in the corner of the last pew...

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When The Door Finally Closes

Weekly Contest #367

When The Door Finally Closes The first time he came back, Grace opened the door before he could knock twice. She’d been waiting, sitting on the front porch night after night for a week anticipating the crunch of his tires coming up the dirt driveway.  Cain stood before the door, slightly hunched, hair dripping from the rain. “I’m sorry,” he said.  She moved to the side to let him in.  Once he was standing in her living room she could clearly see the bags beneath his eyes and the way his hands shook as he removed his jacket. He...

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Coda

Weekly Contest #367

Set down by Anne Ashcombe, Editor, from the memoirs and journals of Lilac Ashcombe, mariner and captain, sailing His Majesty’s seas and beyond--Ashcombe Manor, 7 August 1793 The door of my study has always been a stubborn thing. It swells in damp weather, as doors do in old houses, and requires a firm hand upon the latch. This evening, after many hours among my sister’s journals, I find myself unwilling to close it.Perhaps this is because closing a door is not always an act of ending. Sometimes it is an admission that one must step away from...

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Positively Alex

Weekly Contest #366

Rain poured from the clouds as though a thousand water hoses had been left on. Water filled the ground and began to manifest puddles where the land could not absorb anymore. Alex sat in front of the door watching his playground grow. Oh, how he loved to splash in the puddles. “Grams?” Excitement consumed him. “Alex?” she replied coyly. “Grams…..please.” his eyes were full and eager to bust through the door. There was nothing like running in the rain and splashing in the water. No trips to the park, zoo, or even camp compared to being able ...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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