Into the Fire

I can't take a steady diet of it, but when reading Vince Flynn, I do understand why the Christian reading world resorts to reading secular literature. Most general market fare contains cussing, but if it's used sparingly, I confess it works to establish a reality that can fit the scenes and plots of stories centered on life in this world.

I'm very selective of my reading material. Since most of what I read falls into the Christian Fiction category, when I branch out into worldly literature, there are only a very few genres I'll explore. Graphic "romance" doesn't interest me and actually takes the real romance right out of the story and inserts explicit lust in its place.

However, those of us who've been in multiple discussions about Christian literature have participated in the conflicts raised over the use of certain words and situations. Extremes sit on both sides of the invisible fence that exists to allow restrictive requirements in order to qualify for what the CBA is willing to support and promote.

What suffers from sitting on this fictitious fence or residing on the favored side of restrictions is the simple reality of life. The heart of Christianity reaches out to a lost world where bad behavior and language rule. While in our lives we turn away from those things that serve to drive a wedge between us and our Lord, the world has little knowledge of what constitutes sin. If we can't illustrate a desirable contrast to a life of sin, we serve no real purpose in this life. And for a writer, we have a wonderful opportunity to portray little bits of real life within our stories.

Here's where the crux of the dilemma is exposed. If, as an author of Christian Fiction, a writer decides to write stories to entertain the saints, which is a noble goal in itself, the restrictive nature of the requirements can be less of a problem for both writers and readers. If an author desires to branch out in his/her appeal, it's much trickier to adhere to the requirements. It's not a matter of joining the world's behaviors, it becomes a matter of contrast. An accurate contrast to expose the ways of the world as opposed to the ways of a loving God necessitates giving a dose of reality to the words and actions in the story. The characters must come alive on the pages and be relatable to those who read about them.

I love Vince Flynn's novels. They're thrilling, realistic, sometimes contain more cussing than I'd prefer, but the characters are alive on the pages. Real. It's refreshing to read his stories for that one word: real.

Your thoughts?

Father, help me to be real when I write. Real. You're the author of real. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.  

Trust in the Lord and do good;

dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.

Delight yourself in the Lord

and he will give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the Lord;

trust in him and he will do this:

He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn,

the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.

Psalm 37:3-6 (NIV)

The reason clichés stick around is because they contain truth expressed in interesting or amusing ways.

Favorite word for something I like: Cool!

Describe yourself in one word. (You know mine.)

I'm actually stalling my reading of Vince Flynn's latest The Last Man because I don't want it to be over for another year.

What's the last book you read that you loved? (Mine was Kristen Heitzmann's The Breath of Dawn.)

Lord, you've given us unique qualities but our humanity unites us. If only we could be one in you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

When the days turn short in light and long on grey, melancholy slips into the psyche of some. Maybe it's the essence of death as winter approaches with its closure for certain flowers, leaves, and even life.

I also like to say I was born on the first day of fall and hope to use it one day as the opening sentence in a novel. I don't know the intricacies of why the first day of fall rotates dates, but I was definitely born on the first day of fall which is now my second favorite season – or perhaps tied with summer.

I do get the blues as fall approaches. There's a certain emotion, sensuality, and supreme melancholy accompanying fall's arrival. For me, it only lasts a little while. I accept the shortened days, the long nights to come. Each season has its own mood.

Where I'm from we get the spectacular shades and colors of autumn to offset the creeping malaise of winter's barren trees. And we have evergreens to remind us that once again green foilage and vibrant flora will return in  technicolors.

My husband and son share that somber adversity to lost light. Me? Only for the onset of fall. Then it's just the season, that in-between one, and on to Thanksgiving and the joys of Christmas.

Loss makes any season dreary. For a time. Tears seem to overflow. Surprise us in their volume. Will the sadness ever stop? Yes is the short answer. No is the long answer that eventually leads to yes. Here on earth, the answer is no. Perpetual living and dying transpire. In heaven, the future answer is yes – if we choose the road to that holy place. A heartbeat away, yes awaits. How many more we each have – who knows but the One who gave us life?

Today: I'm just sad.  

Lord, I know your comfort. Over and over again you've provided it. I still need it. And will continue to. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

And a time to die . . . (Ecc. 3:2)

Thank you to each one of you who took it seriously when I asked for prayer for one of our Thoroughbreds. His name was Caleb's Land, and he was a rich dark brown which often looked black. His rear coronet bands were dusted with white, and he had a bold white star on his forehead.

He was born here. And he died here. Young at 15 years.

He got well until Monday when an episode left him very . . . badly. He died that night.

A time to mourn . . . (Ecc. 3:4b)

And we are. We loved you, Caleb.

God, you give and take away. Yet will I praise you. In the Name of Jesus.

Do not fret because of evil men

or be envious of those who do wrong;

for like the grass they will soon wither,

like green plants they will soon die away.

Psalm 37:1-2 (NIV)

The "beat" twangs and strikes a painful chord. The music isn't lively, pretty, sultry, rockin', or solemnly beautiful. It's off key. Sounds wretched.

The sun shines, the rain falls, whispers of snowfall dot landscapes, and wind blusters here and there. Routine follows people, silence tracks many.

Troubling times lurk, get ignored, glossed over, disregarded. Celebrated cheering accompanies vain attempts at resurrecting something from nothing.

Evil sits quiet in the shadows, howling laughter unheard by the masses. Triumph! it gloats.

Holiness lies pushed to the ground, spit upon, kicked and trampled.

But high above, the watchfulness monitors the wickedness, waits for eyes to search for truth and freedom but finds souls relishing their successful immersion into the vile vomit of the death of virtue.

One day the beat will go on again. Perfectly. In tune. Lovely in melody, powerful in chords of joy. One day there will be songs of life.

God, you reign. Over all. Overall. You reign. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Gone visiting here.

God, you're all I'm livin' for. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.