Into the Fire

Passionate thoughts about the world of writing and the Power of God

  •                             9781405518444-1764157750

    On the thriller site I visit, the guys were praising the new movie of Mark Greaney's first in his series of The Gray Man

    As the title implies, the average person would walk right by him and probably not give him a second look. The average stranger in a crowd. He's perfected the look of being unnoticeable while having gained the actual notoriety of being the top and almost mythically skilled assassin for hire. You want the best? You seek out The Gray Man. So when a brutal two-faced African dictator who's soon leaving his position as head of his country puts an indecently high bounty on the literal head of The Gray Man because of an incident concerning the dictator's brother, literal teams of killers from nearly every country are hired by a firm who wants one last deal with the dictator before he steps down. To secure that deal one representative seeks out The Gray Man's boss and to insure he gets what he wants from him, he presents a very real threat. 

    Through the course of this story, Courtland Gentry (aka The Gray Man) is forced to figure out he's the target of some major killing teams. This realization slams him hard and requires every trick he's ever mastered in his covert practices plus being forced to seek aid where he's never had to go. No one could expect to escape multiple assassination attempts of this magnitude.

    As you know, I've read loads of thrillers by some of the best in the genre. I will tell you this about Mark's book: I don't think I've ever read a novel that has more ongoing serious conflict where it's one life or death confrontation after another. You frequently hear reviewers say, "This story never lets up!" The only book I've ever read where that expression comes true is this one. It never lets up. In a way it's exhausting to read. Almost too much. 

    Finally as the pages dwindle in another dire situation, there's a slight twist at the end.

    If you're a diehard thriller fan who craves a lot of detailed action with all kinds of everything that entails, The Gray Man by Mark Greaney is the book for you and the beginning of potentially many more action-packed books in the series. 

     

    Father, you know hearts and minds and everything else in all of us. Please bless your writers and authors. May they all know from whom their talent comes. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.  

  •  

    . . . For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry. 

     

    2 Timothy 4:3-5 (NIV)

  •                 Vince-books-header

    These are the original novels by the late great Vince Flynn. We are grateful that Kyle Mills has taken up the mantle for Vince's creation of the unequaled Mitch Rapp. Throughout the stories of Rapp, I've never cared for the women he's fallen for, so just for my pleasure and fun, I've begun some Fan Fiction to present The One with whom I believe Rapp should spend the rest of his life. My fun continues: 

    (You can catch up here and here.)

         “How long have you known Irene?”

         She cut her gaze away from the mirror to look at him and followed it with staring out the windshield. “About 18 years or so. I don’t get to see her often, but we try to communicate fairly regularly and if possible to have lunch once a month. Doesn’t always happen, but it’s always good when it does. She’s recommended several clients over the years. It’s rewarding to have someone like her have that confidence in me. Truthfully, for her to recommend me to you? Priceless. I didn’t think you’d show up.” She quickly shot a glance at his profile.

         “Not sure why I did,” he replied after a few moments passed.

         She gave him further directions. He pulled into the tiny parking lot and backed into a spot near the entrance to what resembled a small restaurant where he once had dinner in Rome. Strange to have that memory surface.

         Christine collected her purse from the floor and began to open the door.

         “Sit tight, Doc.” He got out and did a careful but casual assessment as he rounded the front of the car to open her door.

         Once inside the restaurant, they were greeted by a man who immediately extended his hand to grasp Christine’s and bring it to his lips.

         “So good to see you again, Christine.” Returning her hand, he extended his to Rapp. “It’s a pleasure, sir." He shook it firmly.

         “Follow me. I have your usual table available, cara mia.”

         “Thank you, Paolo. How is Rose?”

          He led them to the table as he spoke. “She is wonderful as always.” A genuine smile accompanied his words.

         Rapp noted it was situated so both of their chairs faced the front door and maintained a clear view of the kitchen’s entrance. He ordered a black espresso, she a tonic water with lime.

         “You come here often,” he stated.

         “Often as I can which hasn’t been often enough lately.”

         A young man with olive skin and a dark ponytail tied back low on his neck set their beverages and menus before them, nodded and left them alone.

         Perusing the menus, they closed them simultaneously and sipped their drinks.

         “I’m not great at making conversation.”

         “A man of few words. I can appreciate that.”

         “What about you?”

         She gave a brief laugh. “I have a tendency to spill my guts with little provocation. An open book mostly. Except where work is concerned.”

         She noticed he gave her that almost smile.

         “Husband, boyfriend?” He caught her quick look away and back to him.

         “I believe we share a similar circumstance in our distant pasts. My fiancé was KIA. We were told it was in Afghanistan, but I suspect that was a ruse.” She adjusted her posture. “No one even remotely serious since.”

         He studied her. She didn’t flinch. “But many have tried?”

         She smiled, slightly embarrassed. “Some.”

         The young man returned with pad and pencil. Rapp nodded at Christine and she gave him her order. Rapp followed with his. He thanked them and quickly returned to refresh Rapp’s coffee with the dark brew.

     

    Thank you, Lord. This has been rejuvenating and so much fun. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

  •                   2 yrs  old

    Yup. This is pretty much how I felt today. Apparently, I've always been a drama queen. 

    Sorry to repeat so many of these, but they make me laugh. Laughing is a good thing these days.

     

    Father, thank you for the best parents, a great older brother, and a fairly idyllic childhood. I love you, Lord. Thank you for rescuing me when I strayed. Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

  •     1_NBW-fBvLlo27HlLUzx6inw

    Writers often face times of not being able to put the words on a page. Sometimes it's under pressure when they know they have to perform, to write those elusive words. Other times it's after starting something and suddenly the words won't surface. And still again it's when the desire is strong but the creativity lags. This is the peril of being a writer. 

    When the struggle comes, and maybe for some it never will, I have no suggestions. If possible, take the break from words. Breathe deep. Pray. Continue however you must. If you can, ignore the quandary. If not, press on. Is there a foolproof solution? I highly doubt it, and I'm relatively certain there is no one-size-fits-all. 

    The words will come at some point. You know they will. 

     

    Father, please bless your writers and help them through every obstacle. Continue to reassure and lead us through all the struggles and all the joys. We thank you for the privilege of writing words. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

  •    

    Great song. Great question. The Doobie Brothers made so much good music. 

     

    Father, may you touch each one who sings and makes music and writes words. Remind them from whom their inspiration comes. Thank you for it all. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

  •                   62853c11119f540a16faf759_the-record-keeper

    The Record Keeper is the third book in Charles Martin's A Murphy Shepherd Novel Series, the meaningful and gut-wrenching stories of two men and unlimited numbers of their rescues from that horror of human-trafficking or "the flesh trade". 

    This review is going to be a short one for me. There are just too many ways to unintentionally give away spoilers, and that's the last thing I want to do. What I will say about this trilogy is to strap on your toughness cloak – or whatever you use to fight off heart-rending cases of emotional turmoil – because you will be challenged at your most basic level of despair over man's inhumanity to man. You will be given a close look at the sex/flesh/human trafficking/trade and the absolute diabolical, demonic filth of those who engage in it, use it for blackmail, and ply it to make money hand-over-fist as the saying goes. There is just no logical way to prepare for it. 

    Within the latter pages of this third installment, Charles, who is often vague and/or symbolic about faith/God issues in some of his stories, in The Record Keeper pulls out all the stops and uses what biblical scholars call a "type" when going through figures in the Bible that represent or show the characteristics of the Christ. If this awareness hits you any harder than it does "Murph", you will feel it deep in your spirit. There will be tears. Charles Martin's exquisite writing will bring you to your knees. 

    The Record Keeper is a story of all kinds of heartbreak, recoveries, and more heartbreak. To be truthful with you, I had to set the book down frequently and regroup, take a breather. I could've finished it faster had it not done what I suspect is its intent which is to feel it. It's not just another collection, another trilogy. It's a full-on contemporary identification and account of an ongoing horror and struggle that is taking place all over this world under none other than Satanic direction – because the trade is bona fide evil, and there's absolutely no getting around it. Buckle up if you're going to read it. I recommend you start at the first (The Water Keeper) and diligently press on through the second (The Letter Keeper) to get to this one. You need to know about this, and there's simply no way to "pretty" it up.

     

    Lord God, you see it all, the horror and pain, the vile and evil. Many wonder why you don't "fix" everything, but they don't understand the workings of the curse of sin – and we always want to ignore our own capabilities to commit our sinful ways and inclinations. I pray you would continue to use the gift you've poured out in Charles, and fill him with more touching, meaningful tales that tell so many truths. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.  

  •  

    "The Holy Spirit spoke the truth to your forefathers when he said through the prophet Isaiah: 

              " 'Go to this people and say,

              "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.'

         "Therefore I want you to know that God's salvation has been sent to the Gentiles, and they will listen!" 

     

    Acts 28:25b-29 (NIV) 

  •                 Writing

    As you know, I'm a rabid fan of the late Vince Flynn and grateful that Kyle Mills has picked up where Vince left off. The primary reason for my love of the series Vince began is his hero Mitch Rapp. Even though there have been many of his "type" come after him, none has matched his status. He's my all-time favorite in the thriller genre – and beyond. Having said that, I've never been fond of the ladies who captured (Vince's) Rapp's attention/heart, so I've decided to create "The One" he needs to love above all others. (It turns out I need to write something while I wait for another story to take hold, so this is it.) 

    (To get to the beginning of this, go here.)

         She stood, carefully judging her motive first and then her next move. "Mr. Rapp–" 

         "It's Rapp or Mitch."

         "Rapp, would you consider having lunch with me? I'm starving and it would be good to have lunch in a non-professional environment. If you have time. I'm not the kind of girl who's going to analyze your every word and response in conversation. I usually eat alone. It would feel good to spend some time having a 'normal' lunch. Are you game?" 

         He gave her a look with a barely there smile. "Can I trust you?"

         She let out an abrupt laugh. "I don't know, can you?"

         Rapp started for the door and looked back, “Coming? I’ll drive.”

         “We can go in separate vehicles if you’d be more comfortable,” she offered, suddenly feeling a bit intimidated by the prospect of having asked this man she’d long admired to lunch.

         He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “I thought you said you wanted a ‘normal’ lunch. I’m taking you to lunch. Is that ‘normal’ enough for you?”

         She walked quickly toward him. “Yes, sir, it is.”

         He gave a rare laugh and held the door open for her. She walked out in front of him. 

         Once inside his armored BMW X8, he asked, “Where to?”

         “It’s fairly out of the way. You like Italian food?” she asked hopefully.

         “I do.”

         “Head south.”

         He noticed as he repeatedly and routinely checked his mirrors she did the same. Conditioned probably from an early age by her father and now because of who her father was. Rapp knew there was simply no way you could hide from everyone. No matter how much you wanted to or how hard you tried.

         “How long have you known Irene?”

         She cut her gaze away from the mirror to look at him and followed it with staring out the windshield. “About 18 years or so. I don’t get to see her often, but we try to communicate fairly regularly and if possible to have lunch once a month. Doesn’t always happen, but it’s always good when it does. She’s recommended several clients over the years. It’s rewarding to have someone like her have that confidence in me. Truthfully, for her to recommend me to you? Priceless. I didn’t think you’d show up.” She quickly shot a glance at his profile.

         “Not sure why I did,” he replied after a few moments passed.

         She gave him further directions. He pulled into the tiny parking lot and backed into a spot near the entrance to what resembled a small restaurant where he once had dinner in Rome. Strange to have that memory surface.

         Christine collected her purse from the floor and began to open the door.

         “Sit tight, Doc.” He got out and did a careful but casual assessment as he rounded the front of the car to open her door.

     

    Father, only you know what happens tomorrow and today. Help me to do what you ask today and tomorrow. And to honor you in what I do. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

         

     

  •     2022-07-15 141625

    My first year at the track. The now defunct Longacres Racetrack, Barn 4B. Many years ago . . . 

     

    Father, many more years later you rescued me from myself and gave me purpose. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.