Into the Fire

Sunday's Offerings

Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.

Colossians 3:1-2 (NIV)

Ocean Time

The sun is out, the sky is blue. The air is crisp. The ocean sings to me. I love being here. The sand is grey. It's not fancy, but the sounds, smells, and scenery is the design of the Lord. Have a wonderful Friday.

Father, thank you for this time away. For your beauty everywhere I look. Thank you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

The thing about parables . . .

. . . is they aren’t books. And I guess I’m getting a little tired of hearing how “Jesus spoke in parables” as an example for writing fiction. Novels. Whole books consisting of 80,000 words and beyond of single stories, possibly layered, possibly mysterious, possibly symbolic, and possibly many more things. But definitely not parables. Okay?

So can we please just not use how Jesus told these mini-stories with deep spiritual symbolism which only a few could grasp due to their reluctance, hardened hearts, or lack of understanding as to how to apply them to a spiritual life most of them did not know how to live as examples for writing novels? We can give multiple reasons for why He elected to demonstrate them the way He did. Did He want them/us to consider the practical aspects of their application? Did He want them to ponder possible other meanings to these artful illustrations of everyday life? Did He want to confound them with the message hidden in the accounts? He advised His disciples to have “ears to hear”. In fact, he said this to them . . .

This is why I speak to them in parables:
“Though seeing, they do not see me; though hearing, they do not hear or understand.
In them is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah:
‘You will be ever hearing but never understanding; you will be ever seeing but never perceiving.
For this people’s heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes.
Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn, and I would heal them.’” (Matthew 13:13-15 NIV)

The most comparable method of writing parables I see in the construction of novels is the metaphor. A metaphor gives us a description of something we observe and accept at its face value, but as we ponder our observation, we realize there are other levels to the picture. And, no, not every reader will examine the picture to see all of its angles. The plain view works for them—even if they don’t capture the essence or fullness of what it’s really saying.

So many of us Christians get caught up comparing and contrasting writers in our midst to secular writers either unfavorably or condescendingly. In spite of the accusations of inferiority, there are some amazing writers who include the gospel message in their work. There are also those excellent Christian writers who don’t. Either way, the important thing is to write what God has for you to write. You’re free to prefer whatever kind of literature you choose, but you don’t get to determine it for others. Nor should you be putting any of them down for their choices.

In my mind there is very little comparison that can be made for novels to the Bible. The Bible is non-fiction. Truth. Actuality. Written by the Holy Spirit through the words of many different men. Some were educated, some were not. God didn’t examine their platforms before He allowed them to pen His words: He gave them their platforms and their words. Few of them would have impressed anyone with their writing abilities, especially God.

We can hope for the anointing when we write, seek after God’s holy touch on our words, pray that He will oversee our creative process, and yield our hands to Him, but when we write a story, we are exercising His gifting, and we can seek His glory in the story, but it’s truly up to Him what happens in the process and beyond.

Yes, the Bible uses symbolism, metaphor, and different styles of writing to tell the truth to whoever elects to read it, hear it, see it. In these same ways and others the God of all Creation still speaks to you and me in a voice He desires us to recognize as His own.

And, yes, I would say we fiction writers use His methods to tell our tales most of us hope will reveal a form or element of truth to their readers which is certainly better than being a proponent of hollow lies or empty philosophies (Col. 2:8).

Father, we owe any ability, success, or personal glory all to you. No one else. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Book Three of the Dreamhouse Kings Series: Gatekeepers

Robert Liparulo’s third young adult novel Gatekeepers picks up where Book Two Watcher in the Woods ends and issues a warning on the page preceding the first chapter instructing the reader to read Books One (House of Dark Shadows) and Two before this one. I would agree with this “warning”. The eventual six book series is told in increments of daily time documenting the sometimes horrific and always exciting adventures of the King family in their quest to tackle the strange and often wicked aspects of what they thought would be their dream house.

At the end of Book Two we meet a wheel-chair bound 95 year old man named Jesse who convinces his former Army Ranger nurse Keal to take him from his nursing home to California to help the King family in this crazy house even though the King family doesn’t know either of them. Before Jesse and Keal are introduced to us again, Dad is jailed on a trumped up charge suggested by the evil Taksidian who has his own reasons for wanting the family out of the house. The three King kids, the oldest Xander, David, and their little sister Toria, are left in the house alone trying to figure out a way to retrieve their kidnapped mother from the time portals where she was carried off by a man who looked more like a monster.

In this story we begin to learn a little more about the youngest Toria and how her older brother’s plan to use her in a rescue attempt is staunchly opposed by her other brother David. Conflict and courage add to their dilemma and when the “monsters” appear again and seem to expand their boundaries throughout the house, the three try to escape to an outdoor field with special powers which they hope will offer them asylum.

There is more high drama when Jesse and Keal arrive with fascinating explanations from the plucky old man, and the excitement and fear factor ratchet up as the cliffhanger ending approaches.

There are incredible high stakes adventures going on throughout the divided time slots in this third installment in the series, and young readers will be compelled to turn each page and read all the books. Parents who are looking for overt spiritual references or directions will only find subtle allusions to eternal issues. The kids themselves are not looking toward God for help at this point. The writing is exactly what you expect from thriller writer Robert Liparulo: fast pacing, sharp danger, scrambling to outdo or outrun the evil pursuers, and sheer excitement as the risks exceed the abilities of each character.

Those young people (and some adults for that matter) who love action-packed stories will experience the tension in this exhilarating adventure by Robert Liparulo, a genuine thriller writer.

Father, I ask for your continued blessings upon Robert as he meets many of the young readers who love these novels. I pray you would give him ample opportunities to share his faith, to bless them with his innate generosity and his fun-loving spirt. Be close to him, Lord, in all of his ventures, and keep him safe from all harm. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

On Reading . . . Havah

Most of you know me as a contemporary writer and reader. Not a fan of history or historical novels. I have made a few rare exceptions to my reading rule, but I’m not sure I’ve ever examined the reason for my succinct preferences. Until now. Until reading Tosca Lee’s Havah, The Story of Eve.

I’ve discovered some things about history from a personal level. My own view. While I remember the joys of yesteryears, of days gone by in my own short history, I tend to recall more frequently the regrets, the horrible mistakes, the terrible errors. Gone but not forgotten. Now covered by the Blood but re-crafted by memories which bring with them no mercy. And in reading Havah, I am taken back to my origin. And it isn’t pretty.

Unlike most of the fans of this novel, I found it very painful to read. It’s a compliment to say this about the book, and it’s no less true, but one of the reasons for it being hurtful to read is that it is just too real. I dare any woman who has experienced marriage to deny the rigors of Havah’s emotional account. The extreme pleasures subdued or eliminated by the extreme disappointments and losses speak so vividly of the contrasts we face when we step from the idyllic to the morose. And any man who has tried—at least for awhile—to tolerate or cohabitate with the emotional messes of his wife or her efforts to dominate or overturn his decisions will undoubtedly side with “the adam” in this . . . story. It’s difficult to even call it a story since it feels more like “an account based on a true story”, which of course it is.

Tosca Lee is what I affectionately (in her case) call a brainiac. She is not just a student of the Word, she is a searcher of the Word. And she is not content to merely read it, she instead delves into translations, culture, nuances, languages. Questioning those whose intellect or faith, or both, she respects, she carves out her stories from the spiritual meat she gathers. And as if that isn’t enough, she writes a superbly stunning and elegant tale in her first novel Demon . . . a memoir which is rich in revelation and insight, and then she follows it up with Havah, The Story of Eve which not only captures the essence of life for the first man and the woman created from him in the Garden, but reveals the staggering and horrific results of their disobedience.

I found my eyes blurring and caught a sob when the second son Hevel (known to us as Abel) is speaking with his mother about life and love, the past and future. His words hold wisdom, and Havah is deeply moved. In the following passage Hevel is describing his perception of “the adam”, his father.

“There is a direction of his eyes, askance, at nothing, when I know that he is thinking back. He thinks often of the place from which you came. Every day my entire life I have seen that look cross his face, for as long as I can remember. And I know he thinks of you, because sometimes when he does it, he smiles. Just a bit.”

In the context of time in the story this is a profound revelation to Havah by her second son. And that sob I initially caught turned into a stream of tears after reading the scene.

You may or may not recall upon reviewing the novel Zora and Nicky by Claudia Mair Burney, I remarked that it was a novel we not only should read but that we needed to read. And it is. Its depth and honesty in facing racism head on—well, we find ourselves neck deep in looking at fundamental issues of being human and flawed.

Havah, The Story of Eve and Demon . . . a memoir by Tosca Lee present two novels that need to be required reading. These high-concept spiritual treatises simply cannot be ignored. They will become classics in Christian literature, yet they are not solely for a Christian audience. They are profound interpretations of Biblical truths, and if you possibly can, I urge you to put them near the top of your TBR pile because you will not leave these “stories” unaffected by them. You need to read them. You really do.

Father, I ask for your continued blessing and anointing to fall upon Tosca. Lord, you have gifted her mightily, and I pray she would continue to use her gifts to glorify you. Encourage her and embrace her with your love and mercy. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Not My Children . . .

Not that I’m disclaiming them as not my own or anything. But . . . my novels are not “my children”. Not “birthed” by some nine month gestation and “delivered” in excruciating pain. Nope. That analogy doesn’t work for me.

My novels are . . . me. They are an extension of myself in every character, good or bad. They are a part of my nature, my hopes, my fears, my personality, my interpretations of other personalities, my observations, my inspirations, my hates, my loves, my ugliness, my beauty, my life, my experiences, my insights, my revelations, my failings, my freedoms, my successes, my humanity, my spirituality, my writings. Yet they are not my own.

I have yielded possession of myself and anything of value that I produce to the Lord Jesus Christ. He is the Friend and Judge of all things I do. Only He is worthy to assess them, to give them credence or importance or value.

And though I “labor” over them to make them real, it doesn’t compare to the divine partnership of creating a child. The creation of a novel can be done without divine partnership, but to do so limits its eternal worth. So many things in our lives will be burned up as chaff simply because they have no lasting value and were not done in obedience to Christ.

My children are the result of a three-way union. Children make no choice for their parents. The merging of their fathers and mothers cannot produce life without God’s permission. We are creators of nothing. All our knowledge and skills comes from our Father. Apart from Him we can do nothing. We often say that, but do we truly translate it into our limited realities? Nothing. It has no real definition because it connotes non-existence. Void. Nothing.

No writer is more aware of her limited skills than me. I have to give credit to the Lord for His transcending my natural thoughts and giving me creative images which forge their way into characters that seem—if not limited to the type on page—to be real. I know them. I live with them. I watch them. They sometimes amaze me with their words or their deeds—or disappoint me or disgust me. As I sometimes do to myself. They could easily breathe . . . but they don’t. They are of paper or screen. Pictures of those who participate in reality: composites of life. But not alive. At least not living and breathing.

No, my novels are not my children. They’re mine through thick and thin. Not to be disowned unless destroyed. A part of me. An extension of myself. An endeavor to convey the inner workings of the human parts deep down where we all find ourselves in the squalor and are forced to admit we are dust and dirt, sinful and base. Unlovely, regardless of the adornment—physical or spiritual—we cannot hide ourselves from the One who provides all our beauty and talent. It is He who presents us with our worthiness. He alone.

In His hands I attempt to place my own, surrendering what He has given me to His leadership and direction even when . . . yes, even when it travels a different path than I dreamed we might go. His is better, no: best. Over the years I’ve learned that lesson—not easily, I might add. And, yes, I still often wrestle with that firm grip like a wayward child in a department store. But like that child I know when I strain against Him, I make it all about me. And “me” isn’t really worth the pulling away. Without Him and apart from Him, I can do nothing.

I am one of His children, His creation, and my desire is to fit securely into Him so that I cannot be seen. Only Him. That way these novels, these extensions of myself, can be extensions of Him.

Father, continue to create in me a pure heart. I long to serve you and you alone. Then I will be of use to the others you put into my life. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Sunday's Offerings

Grace be with you all.

Titus 3:15b (NIV)

Not . . . In Your Face . . . ?

Um. Hmm. Well . . . Huh.

What are you really saying when you say the Christian message, theme, gospel, whatever, isn’t “in your face” in a story, a novel, an article, whatever? That it’s subliminal? That it’s in the background? That it won’t be noticeable to those who aren’t believers in Jesus Christ? That the point is showcasing good versus evil? That it’s just a “clean” read? What?

If I was an agent/editor examining a query for a novel—and, yes, this is just me—if I read in the submission that the Christianity wasn’t “in your face”, I wouldn’t read any farther. Don’t roll your eyes and huff away to another blog just yet. Don’t you want to know why? Okay, don’t answer that. I’m going to tell you anyway.

If something isn’t “in your face”, then the connotation is “it” isn’t aggressively put forth. Alright. If the gospel message is aggressively put forth some of us would associate it with potentially strong preaching as in from the pulpit or what we might hear at a tent meeting with an evangelist stirring up the people. Some would think if the Christian theme isn’t “in your face”, it’s hidden, possibly cleverly woven into the story so as not to be missed but concealed without overt terms to give it away or proclamations of belief systems. Others of us would assume if something is in your face, it is plain. Perhaps no holds barred plain, but out there and obvious for sure.

For me, when a writer states the Christian theme, message, gospel, etc., isn’t “in your face”, they are rationalizing including the message at all or making an excuse for not including it. By so doing, they are also—and I wholeheartedly admit this probably isn’t intentional—giving a backhanded slam to those writers who have chosen to put the message into readers’ “faces”. We all know each novel has a specific audience, some a lot broader than others. We know who we are as writers—and readers, for that matter—in that we might prefer characters who learn who Jesus is through the course of a story or via characters who live godly lives but struggle with this, that, and the other, or we prefer subtle themes contrasting good and evil in the contemporary or a fantasy world.

I know it’s just semantics, but there seems to be a trend here which goes something like this: Let’s just write a good, enticing, clean story with people who might offer a quick prayer in the midst of crisis or refer to a vague church background or somehow implicate a spiritual awareness without vocalizing it in obvious ways. The appeal will be broader, and just maybe God will use it to get some lost soul thinking about Him. Okay. Great. Just don’t infer to “in your face” Christianity in a story as somehow inferior.

A lot of the decision making process to include overt Christianity depends upon the genre of a story. Fantasy novels proclaim and are known for the themes of good versus evil. Christian fantasy authors often incorporate all kinds of Christian symbols within that thematic framework, and, frankly, this is where the vagaries seem to work the best. It’s easier to incorporate the concept of evil being a form of the devil and the good somehow being godlike or a type of savior.

Knowing what you intend to tell in your story is key. And whatever you decide is your mission in telling the story . . . just do it. Don’t make excuses for it. Don’t insinuate your way is best. Don’t rationalize your reason for doing it. Don’t insult those who choose to do it differently. Okay?

In your face Christianity is not a bad thing. Like any other approach: as long as it’s well written.

Father, as the old hymn states: I love to tell the story . . . Thank you, Jesus. I need you in my moment to moment existence, and I need you in my stories. Thank you.

Do Your Research!

I love the CSI television dramas. All three of them. I watch nearly all the forensic, FBI, and NCIS shows. Call me morbid if you like. I read mysteries, thrillers, and military novels, too. And someday, the Lord willing, I’d love to write a mystery. I have a plot, but . . . we’ll see.

Point being, we give some technical leeway when we watch films or television dramas knowing in order to condense a story down to the allotted timeframe, the writers take liberties with several areas. We understand this—to a degree.

For those of you who happened to watch Monday night’s CSI Miami, the episode cleverly titled “And They’re Offed”, I want you to know that it was so embarrassingly and technically off as to the realities of horse racing, it was a total sham. I will grant you the average person knows nothing about horse racing, but I can assure you that now: they know even less because this was such an amateur hour effort as to be unacceptable for a show of this caliber. It was inexcusable at this professional level. In short: a travesty.

If the research is too heavy to invest in the hours it takes to get the details right, bag it. Find another plot, different characters, whatever might throw off the credibility of your story should the reader stumble upon the obvious error(s). They won’t read your work again. At least I won’t.

A grand idea for a plot does not a story make. And if you’re venturing into unknown territory, you had better find out what you need to know. Some writers love to do research and spend almost as much time finding information as they do writing the story. When they do, they’re able to create a reality we easily accept. Their work shows up in the details and allows us an easy entrance into areas and circumstances we might know nothing about but because of the expertise of their sources, we trust what we’re reading to be accurate. If we’re familiar with their subject, we’re grateful to discover they’ve given us a seamless port of entry into their story.

For professional writers of TV dramas or novels to assume that viewers or readers are too stupid to investigate their claims or portrayals . . . well, the animosity created by such an assessment creates justified critics and alienates fans. Thinking it will go unnoticed is a foolish mistake.

Do your research!

Father, help us to write carefully and to do justice to the stories you give us. Let us not be lazy in anything we do, especially what we do to honor you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Wednesday Words

When all else fails, we revert to words . . . So today we’ll try some “i” words.

Italics (those most hated things which I happen to love)

Idioms

Increments

Illegitimate

Illusive/Illusion

Illicit

Impotent

Imagery

Insightful

Insistent

Intense

Impending

Impetus

Impale

Impeccable

Icky

Ice

Impugn

Implode

Impetuous

Ire

My goodness! Who would’ve thought there’d be so many to love.

Lord, thank you for the love of language. May I always use it for your glory. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.