Into the Fire

I've done a lot of talking about romance novels in the last couple of weeks. Sexual attraction from the world's multi-faceted views and contrasting them to God's view in story form. The works. Threw some opinions in there about language and innuendo in novels, authenticity, reality. Again: the works.

What I want to say here is I'm passionate about a lot of things. Anything and anyone that lights up or darkens my life gets my complete attention. And to the contrary, those things or people that don't interest me much get virtually no emotional investment from me. I have to draw the line somewhere because passion takes some serious energy. When you give "it" all to something, you possess little for much else.

Ever since I was a little girl I loved romance. I remember chasing a kid named Dev around the playground of my school in kindergarten because I liked him. In fact, that's pretty much all I remember about kindergarten besides crying most of the way through the school year. My mom and dad loved each other, and I sensed it as a child. When I saw a couple kiss on the old black and white television, when I was very small, apparently I always asked my mom, "Mommy, are they married?" The relationship awareness factor is something I've always known. And loved.

Untold numbers of men and women have been afflicted, some ruined, by the sexual mores of this world. Emotional and spiritual damage from promiscuity is rarely addressed in any important, understandable fashion. Its seriousness is always covered in youth groups but the impact of sexual indulgence by hormonal teens often misses its mark and immature Christians suffer the consequences.

My "mission" is to write what the Lord has put in my soul. To attempt to convey His kind of love to those who are looking for it in the wrong places, to those who've been victimized by what they thought was "right", and to those who are doing their best to stay true to the call of the Lord on their romantic searches for the one He has for them. And to do it with authenticity, to portray reality without flinching, to make the faith journey clear and desirable as opposed to the worldly way.

Instead of giving readers the usual passion . . . derailed.

Father, here am I. Use me. However you can. This vessel isn't the pretty pot. You know it's cracked and broken, held together by the Blood of Jesus, the Balm of Gilead. I love you, Lord. Minister to me, Holy Spirit. Let me hear you clearly. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.