" . . . Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord . . . "
Luke 2:11 (NIV)
Merry, meaningful, miraculous Christmas!
-
We realized the seriousness of our endeavor right from the startling beginning. When you study the heavens, it’s a shocking discovery to find something new and so specific, something so amazingly bright set in place by some outrageous force. It beckoned to us, and after much discussion we knew we must pursue the phenomenon because not only our minds were in agreement but our hearts pulsed in our chests and stirred us like none of us had ever experienced. This star marked something, and we became determined to follow its marker.
Packing our satchels and gathering our wealth, somehow knowing there would be a requirement at the end of this journey, we loaded our best beasts with our survival gear and treasures and bid our associates farewell. Each one wished us good traveling and remained anxious to learn of this special light in the sky never before noted in the history of the stars. We weren’t entirely sure we could find our destiny with this star, but we knew we were all compelled to follow it.
The journey wore on, long and sometimes difficult. We faced some weather storms and had to rest more than we’d hoped. One thing was sure throughout our travels: the star never once hid itself in the clouds or diminished in its opaque brightness.
At night we wondered aloud to each other why it could’ve appeared at this time, so stark, so evident, so impossible to ignore. So we studied the publications we had, the prophecies of old, and we realized together that there was to be born a king of the Jews, and it was then that we knew this special birth must have a marker because of the unique description of this new king’s life. Something sacrificial would be required of him, something beyond the scope of mankind and the usual service of kings. We dared to assume this child was set apart for things too grand for us to fully comprehend. Perhaps those heavens we studied held a greater message than our simple hearts could compute, and at night when we discussed our journey and the gifts we felt we must bring as an offering, we’d often retreat to silence as we contemplated the magnitude of our destination in this moment in time. We sensed eternity placing its request upon our hearts, and at times we quaked in what could only be called a holy fear.
Since we were all our own personalities, some of us light-hearted and generally jovial, others of us severely focused and serious, we began to notice we had a joining of our souls on this journey and our usual petty grievances with one another which every so often occurred while we argued over the heavenly bodies no longer persisted. It was like we were joined in purpose, resolution, and a kind of faith we’d never known together. This star had presented an opportunity for us to set aside our professional differences, our dislike of certain characteristics in each of us, including ourselves, and I cannot recall one single incident of discord along the occasionally perilous journey.
We approached the great city of Jerusalem and the star shone even brighter—as impossible as that seemed, but we were all in agreement about that fact. Knowing we were in foreign lands, we asked some local teachers of their law about the prophecy to determine the exact location of this tiny king because the star seemed to shine over the entire area. Shortly after seeking our information we were summoned by the Roman King Herod who inquired about the exact time the star had appeared. He made a strange request after telling us to go to Bethlehem, asking us to report back to him so he could go and worship the child.
When we packed up and headed out for Bethlehem, the star, in what could only be referred to as a miraculous compass, once again appeared more specifically and led us right to the exact home of the young child. We thrilled with anticipation for we knew the purpose of our journey was nearing its climax. The mother Mary’s eyes widened at our appearing and the extravagance of our gifts, but she seemed to understand the magnitude of our visit and her gracious welcoming allowed us to experience the marvel of the whole journey and culmination of supernatural events here in this small and common dwelling. The child's father, a gracious and humble man, seemed stricken with our obedience to make this journey but well able to understand it. Our surprise at the utter holiness of our visit overwhelmed us later that night.
We awoke having all experienced the same intense dream filled with warning not to return to King Herod’s court, so we set off for our distant home taking a different route, never to be the same again.
Following a star placed in the heavens by a holy hand who holds eternity gave us hope we hadn’t previously known. This little king radiated a glory we couldn’t have sensed without him, and we held him in our hearts as we traveled back to our land. We would never leave him behind even though we knew we would never see him again until that one who made the star we followed took us to be with Him.
Merry Christmas. Happy Birthday, Jesus.
-
Happy Birthday, Joseph Michael Salter!
Treasured son, may the blessing of the Lord pour out upon you and through you as you seek His voice, direction, and holiness daily. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
-
It's amazing to me that some people can believe in alien life forms (those who haven't claimed to see and experience them) but not believe in God. This time of year children are taught to "just believe" in the "magic" of Christmas, in Santa and Mrs. Claus and their elves at the North Pole deciphering lists of naughty and nice children and reading letters from kids who desperately "need" a Wii, a horse (as did I), a puppy, a Barbie, a job for their mommy, or a daddy home for Christmas. Children believe in the supernatural. To defeat and negate that belief, it must be trained out of them. Because our supernatural God put it in them to "just believe" in Him.
Since Jesus died on the Cross and was resurrected, a few individuals over the multitudes of years since that event have seen Him. Not in cloud formations or dreams but for real. They found out in our physical realm that Jesus Christ is who He claimed to be. They realize the supernatural intercedes with the physcial realm and that there is so much more to life than our finite eyes, ears, senses, and minds can imagine.
So what is it that happens to a person who refuses to believe in the God of all Creation? Why not investigate this "book" that has survived millenia to deliver the gospel message? Why not accept that the Divine has no finite limits assessed to him by human minds? Why not conclude there can only be one Truth and that this particular account tells of our origin and our potential demise, defines the cruelty and atrocity witnessed here on earth, explains the consequences of sin from beginning to end and offers the solution? Why not realize there is always a choice to be made of what or Who to believe is telling the truth? Why not refer to the basic instincts of our souls that point to something beyond our limitations? To our innate senses of the supernatural?
Those of us who write and are willing to tag our literature with the Christian fiction label wish we could appeal to those who search for Truth, to those who've accepted denial as their reality. To those who will actually believe in the horrific element of the supernatural but refuse to accept the One who is more powerful than the evil ones who fell from God's dwelling place. But it's only up to us to tell the story. Each individual chooses for himself.
As writers, we should realize the complexities of the search, the difficulties of the conflict, the ironies of decisions, and the possibilities of our supernatural Maker. We should embrace the miraculous and proclaim the beautiful and the haunting story which will present the reality of our Lord in all His supernatural elegance and grandeur and power. It's all amazing and often beyond belief. Without the required step of faith it becomes fantasy to the unbeliever.
But once you take that miniscule faith excerpted from the deepest crevice of the human heart: God is there. You shed one moment of unbelief and ask from a place of purity of soul for Him to reveal Himself, and He delivers. One supernatural experience custom made for you. It begins with a hint of belief and graduates into a supernatural knowing. He's there. For real. His Spirit comes, takes up residence, teaches, counsels, comforts, and lives within you. So simple and yet so complex. How? Who truly can explain it? The Bible does it best – but even then there are mysteries.
Emmanuel: God with us. Thank you. God. Jesus. Holy Spirit. All one. Who can define His saving grace? But we can all know it.
This Christmas "just believe" in the One who came to save you, who knows your name, who gave you life and just so many days. Once you just believe, then you can know. It's supernatural.
Holy Spirit, woo them with the Love of Jesus. God, save them. In the Name of your Son Jesus Christ, Amen.
-
We hear a lot about the passion of writing, the problems of writing, the perceptions of writing, and the peculiarities of writing and writers.
I'm driven by passion. All out. If it doesn't interest me, and I can't manufacture a passion for something, it's useless for me to attempt it. I had enough of that in school. So it's logical for me to tell you I can't write without being passionately involved in the characters and story. Won't go anywhere with words for very long if the passion falls away.
We're often advised to "bleed onto the page". However – and the word "however" demonstrates this perfectly – in all that bleeding, we must put a tourniquet on it if we approach certain elements of reality (see yesterday's post). I guess this is to avoid a hemorrhage of truth. The disclaimers of how we must write pervade the bleeding instruction.
This can become a "problem" of writing. Expressing the passion of writing in any genre can involve severity. Or innuendo. Or topics. That offend. Do these topics warrant elimination or can they be expressed with honesty and the integrity that comes from meaningful and thoughtful writing? If you haven't read The Passion of Mary-Margaret by Lisa Samson, you have missed out on the epitome of sensitivity, beauty in both writing and story. The book is exceptional in every sense of the word. Handling startling situations with intensity and tenderness. Amazing. Passionate. Beautiful. And definitely will be a problem for some.
The perceptions of writing are as varied as the books that provide them. Generally speaking, a reader will perceive the intent of the writer by the story. But perception with some Christian readers goes way beyond the intent. Sometimes the writer is accused of providing "tempting" material, "stumbling blocks" for readers. This perception is limited to the individual reader's interpretation/perception of the writer's intention in telling the story. And this perception is so often wrong. This perception takes a very narrow view of the writing world and Christianity as it's applied to the reader's point of view and singular life, and the reader contrives a judgment which can be incorrect and condemning. Many writers have received Amazon reviews and personal emails from these disgruntled readers who've set themselves up as judges and juries of what's holy and what's profane based solely on their perceptions of the biblical.
The peculiarities of writers and their writing are endless. Anecdotes about those of us who write novels could fill volumes. Being "peculiar" isn't necessarily a bad thing as is noted in some translations of the Bible. Christians are called a peculiar people and this can be starkly apparent in our writing voices, styles, and stories. We're as diverse as a bunch of people can be, coming from all walks of life and family structures. Being called out of the world or raised up in the church. We're from different denominations, but if we know and love Jesus, we're Christian writers. Or for those who insist: writers who are Christians. See what I mean?
So the peculiar task, job, effort, desire to write involves a multitude of personality types from the scholarly to the street literary. We labor over words and plots and POVs. We try to create something that will move people one way or another. Hopefully we don't disturb them to the point that they attack us on Amazon or elsewhere. They don't have to like our stuff, but we hope they'll be kind in their distaste.
The Right Write is what truly works for you, Writer. Write your heart out. Bleed, weep, laugh into hysteria. Be who God has called you to be with words on the page. Don't flinch! Do it for Him.
Thank you Lord of Heaven and Earth. Bless your writers, Father. In the Name of Jesus through the Holy Spirit's anointing.
-
. . . everything and everywhere but in Christian publishing. It's true but I'm being a bit facetious here.
If you've ever worked in this world outside the sanctity of the church office – and truthfully there are no guarantees there – you've had to face the power, appeal, and manipulation of sex and its innuendoes. Yes, I know. In recent times you can get written up and/or fired for taking sexual liberties in the work place. HR – and why in the world is this designation called "Human Resources"? I mean, what other kinds of resources would there be for where humans are employed? – will take you to task if you look wrong, say wrong, or do wrong in any area of conduct which can remotely be referred to as sexual harrassment.
So what it is it about sex that dominates advertising, sports, literature, you name it? Well, gee. You think it might be that normal people notice the attributes of other people? You think it could be that those same people might or might not enlist a moral code in how they handle "noticing" the attributes of other people? You think it's possible that if you present a product in an attractive package, it might draw attention to said item?
Okay. Most of us are wise to the wiles of advertising and don't necessarily judge a product by its sensual appeal, but who doesn't remember the Marlboro Man? If he's before your time, your loss. More recently, who hasn't noticed the leggy Charlize Theron in the Jadore ads? Oh yeah: Jadore is the perfume she's selling in case you missed that, guys.
The point is this: if you ignore the sexual attraction in stories which pertain to love and romance, you really are writing fiction – as in unrealistic, not truthful, and certainly not believable, at least in my world. Innocence can still be apparent in that attraction, but desire is inevitably present. Or lust is.
The reality of sexual attraction originated with our Creator. Corrupted by sin doesn't lessen its appeal or its power.
I'm not advocating including sex in Christian novels because "sex sells". I'm advocating an honest inclusion and approach to something that's prominent, powerful, and poignant in relationship. Bringing a godly remedy to true romance is a beautiful and necessary challenge. Can we just get real in this area?
Father, we've corrupted all the beauty, but in you we can celebrate the purity of intent and the joy of the intended gifts. Thank you for your love and all that you've given us to enjoy. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
-
For those booklovers on your Christmas list, there's still time to treat them to some wonderful reading. These are the best of those I got a chance to read this year. If I could've gotten to a few more, I'm sure they would've made my list (i.e. Nick of Time by Tim Downs and Indelible by Kristen Heitzmann) (And I added my own at the end of this list because . . . well, just because. Wouldn't you?)
In no particular order:
Resurrection in May by Lisa Samson
The Mountains Bow Down by Sibella Giorello
Pattern of Wounds by J. Mark Bertrand
The Corruptible by Mark Mynheir
The Opposite of Art by Athol Dickson
Over the Edge by Brandilyn Collins
The Resurrection by Mike Duran
The Reluctant Prophet by Nancy Rue
The Queen* by Steven James
Dry As Rain* by Gina Holmes
Breath of Life by Nicole Petrino-Salter
The Famous One by Nicole Petrino-Salter
(*Added Dec. 31st just because they needed to be on this list.)
Father, thank you for all those you've called to write stories. And thank you for those who love to read them. Most of all thank you for you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
-
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."
Matthew 1:22-23 (NIV)
-
Silent as snow. Another day. Gracious. We breathe it in.
Some weep. Some hunger. Some laugh. Some scoff. Some mock. Some drink. Some fear. Some live. Some die.
And still Christmas comes . . .
Truth and Life and Love in Jesus. Free to all who come to Christmas.
-
One of my favorite Christmases was when I got a blue Schwinn bicycle with an illustrated book of Black Beauty. I remember posing in the living room with that full size bike holding my book for the camera. Dorky little girl that couldn't have been happier – unless of course that bike had been a full size horse. 🙂
My parents let me sleep on the couch on Christmas Eve. I slept so sound I never heard them once put out the big present (as in a Schwinn bicycle) from Santa. Aahh, who can remember sleeping that sound?
I used to get up in the middle of the night from the couch - super early Christmas morning - and let my dog upstairs from the basement where he slept. He'd get his stocking and find the squeaky toys. I'd open all my presents alone. It was great. Not so much for my parents listening to the squeaky toys.
The year I went to Europe, I got back just a few days before Christmas and had to wrap every single Christmas gift I brought back in one day. I've hated wrapping presents ever since.
I love buying Christmas gifts. The Christmas before I went to Europe I had been working full time to save my money to do the trip. But this was the one year when I had the money to indulge my parents with truly nice gifts. It was the greatest fun to be able to do that. When he passed away, my dad still had the valet chair I bought him that year.
Father, I owe you everything. My life has been good. You've given me so much. No way to repay you. I love you, Lord. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
