Into the Fire

     This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about. His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.

     But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." 

     All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: "The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel" – which means, "God with us." 

     When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife, but he had no union with her until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus. 

Matthew 1:18-25 (NIV)

Okay. What does it say about me when I give you reviews about the secular novels I've read? I know for a fact some would be disgusted by my reading these general market novels because I always try to include the profanity warnings and in a couple of them there were some graphic sex scenes which also thoroughly disgust me as both a reader and an author. The other question is why am I choosing to read these particular books when I can assume I will be seeing the profanity and possible sexual descriptions? 

You deserve answers to these important questions, so I'm going to attempt to do just that. 

First of all, let's deal with the graphic sexual scenes. I don't read them. And several times I've quit reading the story on the spot, regretful for having started the book. The graphics are non-essential to the storyline, and I cannot and will not understand their inclusion. Any writer can figure their way around the graphics and still get the point(s) across without them unless the objective is to create written porn. 

Now the profanity. Although I make it a point to never get "comfortable" with the various forms and usages of the "f"-word, it does appear frequently in general market literature. Maybe because it's regularly used in the world, perhaps much more than it ever used to be. Authors use it to present authenticity, to seem "real". Readers see it a lot in general market novels like thrillers, used by the military, criminals, detectives/law enforcement, etc., etc., etc. Again, there are multiple ways to get around spelling it out and repeating it over and over, but apparently that takes too much work and the writer might be afraid of not hitting the "real" meter hard enough without f-words. I don't know. I will admit it gets annoying. 

Here's the deal. One of the best thriller writers in the Christian Fiction market is Robert Liparulo, but he hasn't put one in print for several years. James Scott Bell wrote the "Romeo" series which is a bunch of stories with a lot of action intermittent with amazing storylines. My point? There aren't a lot of true thriller authors in the Christian Fiction market. Just because a novel is labeled a thriller doesn't make it one. The thrillers I read are just that. My favorite hero all-time is Mitch Rapp created by the late Vince Flynn and carried on by Kyle Mills. Then there are John Milton, Jon Reznick, and Scot Harvath created by Mark Dawson, J. B. Turner, and Brad Thor respectively. All use profanity in their writing in varying degrees. It doesn't have to be used as profusely as it often is. 

It's not a shock to my system as it is to some readers. I'm not going to say I'm used to it, but I'm going to say I can somewhat ignore it if the story is proving to be a good one. That's not to say I condone it nor do I even advise reading it. I'm telling you that, although I can set it aside, I prefer that it not be there. 

As a Christian, I am instructed to speak well, think on good and righteous things, and not to judge people but rather to judge sin beginning with my own. That takes up enough time when I focus on my own. 

In my writing I allude to those words of profanity when and if the occasion calls for it. I don't write them. Let the reader infer the language. Most crisis situations/frustrations/circumstances don't usually produce an "Oh rats!" especially if faced by people in the world. Authenticity is necessary for me when I read and when I write. But profanity doesn't have to be written out to be expressed. 

So. Whatever you think of me or my writing or reading . . . I hope you can understand my explanations.  

Father, I count on your Holy Spirit to direct me, and I know He does and will. Do I always heed His direction? No. Stupidly, I do not. But thank you for not giving up on me or those you have yet to reach. Thank you for rescuing me. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

           This little girl has always loved Christmas. Still do. 

Thank you, Jesus. You came for us. And gave it all. And wait for us in heaven. And speak to us through your Holy Spirit. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Beautiful season, beautiful message, beautiful picture of a winter wonderland. 

Thank you, God Almighty, for Jesus, for salvation, for redemption, for your beauty left to us so that men are without excuse. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus. Amen.

The most exquisite voice . . . Whitney Houston's "Do You Hear What I Hear?" Remembering Whitney singing about Jesus' birth. 

Father, you know hearts. You give gifts and talents. Thank you for blessing Whitney with such a beautiful voice. She blessed many with her outstanding talent. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.  

Ronin is Book 18 in the John Milton Novel Series by Mark Dawson and picks up John's travels on his way to see an old work and AA friend (Victoria) in Bali. They have a longtime friendship but haven't seen each other in years. She's setting up his new legend since John Milton (aka John Smith) needs to disappear, once again being hunted by the renewed Group 15. 

Standing in another endless line at the airport security before boarding, a beautiful woman of Asian heritage strolls up to show her credentials at the counter as one of her massive pieces of luggage falls off the tower on the tote. John steps out of line to replace it for her. 

After securing his seat near a family with a fussing child, the flight attendant finds him and leads him to a first class seat next to the woman (Sakura) who handled his upgrade. It was her way of thanking him for being attentive with her baggage which no one else was inclined to do before the porter walked on with the cart. She's lovely and they talk. But as it is with John – and which he has finally come to accept in his chosen lifestyle – trouble finds him or he finds it, and this time it's in the form of a lovely woman who's in a deadly situation.

Seeking Victoria's aid with the emergency, John does his best to assist Sakura, but he's pressed to figure out a bizarre plan to aid him with a further rescue of the woman which leads them to Tokyo. In the shadows another man has the same mission but not for the same reason. Before long, there are threats, interference, and plans that go horribly awry until John's 8 years of sobriety is seriously threatened. 

Ronin gives the John Milton readers one struggle after another as John finds himself wondering if there's any way he could have a "normal" life. With his new legend as "Eric Blair" he defeats his demons and considers what his new life will look like.

John Milton fans will enjoy this story of the battle with a fading yakuza family, appreciate the new understanding John gains as to his life circumstances, and always wonder what comes next for John Milton, aka John Smith, aka Eric Blair. 

Father, thank you for the inspiration you provide. You enable writers and give them the opportunities to write for your glory which of course is their choice. May you give them the true understanding of who gives them their talents and gifts. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.   

You answer us with awesome deeds of righteousness,

   O God our Savior, 

the hope of all the ends of the earth

   and of the farthest seas,

who formed the mountains by your power,

   having armed yourself with strength,

 who stilled the roaring of the seas,

   the roaring of the waves,

   and the turmoil of the nations.

Those living far away fear your wonders;

   where morning dawns and evening fades

   you call forth songs of joy.

Psalm 65:5-8 (NIV) 

From one of my Kindle/e-reader only novels. A full-length novel for just $2.99.

CHAPTER THREE

“What’s wrong, CM?  You’re white as a sheet.”

     “Um, I’ll tell you tomorrow. I gotta go. I—I’ll tell you tomorrow, Char.”

     Char Benchford stared after her co-worker and friend. “He broke up with her,” she said to herself. “Oh no.”

     It was a beautiful day except for the storm inside CM’s heart. She walked briskly down the street and past the coffee shop where she’d lost that fateful double mocha on Matt’s expensive shoes. The tears came in torrents—the dam had clearly burst. She needed to get to her car and get out of the city. She did an about face and went back the way she’d come to the basement parking garage to retrieve her car. She was trying desperately not to sob out loud, but she noticed even in the indifferent crowd on 4th Avenue, a few faces looked at her with something that resembled concern. Finally she arrived at her faithful cherry red Toyota Camry and got inside, grateful for the tinted windows. Without intending to, she broke down completely and held her face in her hands. She turned around in her seat and searched the back floor for her box of Kleenex, grabbing a handful and relocating the box to the passenger seat.

     “Why am I crying? Isn’t this what I wanted?” she cried out loud. “I hate myself!” she shouted. “I do.” She sobbed until she had no more tears. She blew her nose several times and started her car. Going for a drive was not an option. She went home instead.

     Walking into her small house had the exact opposite effect of normal. Usually, every time she came in the door, even if only for a brief moment, she loved this little old house with the tiny yard and white picket fence nestled under an old oak and surrounded by some young evergreens, her private hideaway and hers alone. It was totally up to her if she cared to invite anyone over as her guest. But right now at this defining moment, the house felt cold and empty with no chance of change in sight. And although she thought she’d cried all the tears one body could possibly manufacture, she started weeping all over again. The price of her independence: she was alone.

Father, you know the stories long before I do. Thank you for each inspiration, character, and the determination to write them. Apart from you, I can do nothing. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

We've seen the hardships of this unusual year. We've experienced loss, inconvenience, restrictions, confusion, anger, lies, and chaos. We who believe in God have turned to Him for answers, clarifications, Truth, direction, sustenance, patience, deliverance, hope, and the peace that passes understanding. He listens and responds. For that, I am deeply thankful. Even when I don't understand. 

Thanksgiving is a special American holiday where citizens are directed to focus on the bounty that is America, the values that are American, the history of this amazing first Thanksgiving that, sadly, is not exactly taught in our schools the way it really happened. Nevertheless, being born in America, the United States of America, One Nation Under God, is the greatest privilege as far as locations with endless possibilities – to be born. That isn't to say it's always easy or perfect or exactly right, but it is a privilege when one considers the alternatives. 

God Bless America. Be thankful today. And everyday. 

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;

   his love endures forever.

Psalm 118:1 (NIV)

Definitely a white Christmas here . . . Have yourself a merry little Christmas . . . 

God, beauty belongs to you and you share it. Thank you is never enough. Jesus is the Reason for the Season. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.