The idea of narrative identity looks for the essential things about who we are not in our physical or metaphysical qualities but in the ongoing stories of our lives. In religious studies this has fostered a new awareness of how third-person narratives can create something I like to call "identity workshops" - which challenge, broaden, even recreate the first person narratives from which we derive our religious identities. The identity workshops created by fantasy fiction are particularly interesting in this respect because they allow an intrinsically religious intersection between two kinds of narrative: speculative narratives about the natural and the supernatural (universal-mystical stories) and the personal narratives of its protagonists (my story). This opens ground for a comparison between the sorts of religious identity workshops created by two fantasy fiction series and one series with a close relationship to the genre: Rowling's Harry Potter books, Pullman's His Dark Materials series and LaHaye & Jenkins' Left Behind series. Despite their diametrically opposite takes on Christianity, Pullman and LaHaye work with similar "shop tools" - that is, they work with clear religious agendas such that their universal-mystical narratives create the controlling context for their personal narratives - although LaHaye's blurring of the boundaries between fantasy fiction and apocolyptic gives his workshop a very peculiar atmosphere. In contrast, Rowling uses the toolset in the opposite order: personal narrative - with its subjective, intuitively ethical aspects - creates the context for her universal-mystical narrative, which is articulated powerfully but with reticence. If we grant a narrative understanding of human identity, I think that Rowling's series creates more fertile identity workshops than LaHaye's (certainly) or even Pullman's. Rather than pushing the reader toward a "conversion" to a given religious stance, the HP books tend to "subvert" readers' assumptions about their own religious stories and encourage them to try out the possibilities of living in the context of a deeply - albeit reticently articulated - Christian narrative. The comparison certainly leads to serious questions about the kind of thinking that grants fictional narrative an epistemological mulligan. The three works in questions don't just "attest" - they argue vehemently about basic theological issues. Their readers should understand them correctly.