Expanding My Horizons
Now that I’ve finished a first draft on my first novel, I’m working on outlining the second. As the first passes around to a few readers, and the plot develops in the second, I’ve become concerned about the track I seem to be following. Don’t Stop Beleivin’ wanders through the adult entertainment industry – exotic dancing. Sad Girl is heading down an even darker path: human trafficking. Are these really topics that belong in Christian fiction, I asked myself, several times. Am I really glorifying God?
I posed a version of that question to my friend/editor Joy, and she pointed me to several authors: Brandilyn Collins, Dee Henderson, Terri Blackstock, among others. I’ve read a few of Dee’s works, and just finished Terri’s Cape Refuge (and liked it a lot). Dee’s O’Malley series involves a violent stalker. Cape Refuge opens with a double murder. Collins writes Christian suspense. Can I do this?
Brandilyn had a great post the other day about a great fan letter, which in turn linked to a not-so-great fan letter, and that one was the one that really moved me. It was especially heartening to get an encouraging comment from Brandilyn on Facebook.
So I’ve been reading Brandilyn’s blog on a regular basis lately, and today there was a link to Mike Duran’s excellent blog, Decomposing. He’s got some great posts about some topics I’ve really been struggling with, so I’ve got some reading to do. Between his and Brandilyn’s blog, and the AFCW reading lists (social issues and author comparison, I’ve got a lot of reading to do.
Decisions, Decisions
I’ve been trying to outline my latest book. I want to develop “The Sad Girl” into a full-length novel, because I think it will be a good story. But it’s taken a very dark turn at the moment. I’m not above writing a dark story about an ugly topic, but at the moment, I haven’t found a Christian aspect to the story.
Don’t Stop Believin has a strong religious story arc, despite the adult entertainment background. One of the main characters learns about God’s love for her, and then make some difficult decisions about how to deal with the changes salvation brings into her life. Even if a Christian publisher won’t accept it as-is, I think it could be re-written without too much difficulty into an acceptable story.
I haven’t found that angle yet for Sad Girl yet. But I have some time ago determined that I’m not going to write a book that doesn’t glorify God in some way so I need to pay attention to that as I continue the outlining process. I’m still learning about the main character, named Danny Cumberland, and his girlfriend Teresa Chadwick, so maybe there are some things they haven’t told me about themselves yet. I hope so. It’s disconcerting to think about putting so much effort into a story that I won’t be able to write.
6 Years, 10 Months, 18 Days
Two thousand, five hundred and twenty-four days.
Three hundred and sixty weeks.
101, 380 words.
Actually, no. I’m off by two words. Forgot to count “The End.”
Yes, roughly 60,576 hours later, Don’t Stop Believin’ is done, or at least the first draft is. Time to back up that file, and start thinking about another story or two before I start rewriting this one.
It’s been an interesting week, quite honestly. My mother-in-law passed away Friday, on her ex-husband’s birthday, which turned out to be the day after I wrote the last words. The moment itself was…humbling, and surreal. My first thought was, “Holy crap, I’m really done.”
It was certainly an intriguing journey. In the real world, I’ve changed jobs twice, and added a child to my family. In the book, two people have died, one gave her life to Christ, and another is almost there. It took me almost seven years to tell a story that only spans 65 days. That worked out to 151 days of actual writing, spread out over the aforementioned 2,524 days, or about once every 16 days. When I was writing, I was cranking out an average of about 670 words a day. But there were long stretches of no writing, for different reasons. Most of the time, I blamed my muse for no longer speaking to me. In her defense, I didn’t really try speaking to her, so it’s fair for her to keep quiet, I suppose. Ah well.
For the next few days, no more writing. Visitation is Tuesday, and the funeral is Wednesday. It’ll be a long week. I’ve already got the basics for the next story in mind. It’s a short I wrote a couple of years ago, and I think it’s worth turning into a novel. At least I hope it is.
Of Icons and Idols
Researchers in Jerusalem announced that they’ve found a burial shroud that almost certainly dates to the early 1st century AD, during the time when Jesus walked the earth. It’s significant because it provides some idea of how the body died (probably TB), but more importantly because of the weave of the cloth. It’s a much simpler weave than is found in the Shroud of Turin, the cloth thought to be the burial shroud for Jesus’ body between the Crucifixion and Resurrection.
For some, that brings doubt not about the Shroud of Turin, but about the new discovery. I am certain that some will think that because of the differences between the clothes, they will think that the newly found shroud is fake, because they “know” the Shroud of Turin is Jesus’ burial shroud.
This announcement comes just two months after an Italian professor of organic chemistry made it known that he had produced an almost identical copy of the Shroud of Turin, using various pigments and common painting techniques. Professor Luigi Garlaschelli says now that he has the process down, he thinks he could create another reproduction in about a week.
In my younger years, I felt sure that the Shroud of Turin really was what people believe it is. It made sense to me that whatever Godly energy that radiated from Jesus when He was resurrected could have left an afterimage on the cloth that surrounded him at the time. As science worked more on the Shroud, I held to my faith. Surely God would have left some physical evidence of one of the most important events in the history of Christianity.
As I’ve aged (matured?) though, I’ve begun to have doubts about the Shroud, as well as the many other religious relics attributed to Jesus Christ. That is not to say I’ve doubted the existence or the deity of Jesus. But I doubt that we will ever find any object that can categorically and convincingly be tied to Jesus’ time on earth. I honestly and truly believe that we’re never going to find the real tomb of Jesus, or anything relating to the Crucifixion or Resurrection.
Why? God commands against idols, and He knows how we as humans would idolize the sites, and the objects. Witness the thousands of years of bitter controversy about the Shroud. Much of the New Testament is about faith, and faith doesn’t need objects, but rather experiences. Faith is defined as “confidence or trust in a person or thing,” or “belief that is not based on proof.” This latter definition is the more important one, I think. Having physical proof of Jesus’ presence on earth would negate the need for faith. Jesus told Thomas after the Resurrection, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:24-29 NIV).
If Jesus said this to Thomas, would He make it easier for us to believe by seeing?
Ghosts of Christmas Past
December funerals can pretty much suck. You’ve lost someone in the weeks leading up to Christmas, and that can throw a heavy weight into the holidays. It’s hard to share the Christmas cheer when you’re grieving. You can feel guilty about being down, so then you seclude yourself from folks, which is the last thing you should do at that time. Then when Christmas rolls around next year, you get fresh reminders of your loss; it’s next to impossible to forget that death, because it’s tied to a big annual event that millions of people across the world celebrate.
I know what December funerals are like. My mother died December 21, 1998. I had about 20 months prior to that date gotten saved, converting from a non-practicing Lutheran to an evangelical Protestant denomination (Church of the Nazarene). My father was Lutheran; my mother was, I think, Presbyterian. Religion wasn’t that big of a thing in our family, although my dad had always required us to go to church. I had been baptized as an infant, and gone through confirmation. But nothing ever clicked for me.
Dad had died in 1994. My mom had health issues of one kind or another, leading her to be hospitalized in mid-December for venous bypass to help save her legs from the ravages of advanced and out-of-control diabetes. It was only moderately successful, and as she was recovering, she suffered a stroke.
She was dying that Monday.
I had driven from Columbus to Marietta the day before after a rambling phone call from the ICU nurse about how my mom was “decompensating,” and frantic calls to my brother in Oregon. My wife stayed in Columbus with our two small children.
One of the things most evangelical churches teach is that if you present the Gospel to someone, and ask them to make a commitment of their life to Christ, and they refuse, they’re condemning themselves to Hell. The thinking is that they’ve refused salvation. My mom was not overly religious, and at the time, I felt that I needed to “get her saved,” as I understood things. But I didn’t want to have a salvation talk with her, for fear she would refuse the commitment at the end. She had been confused over why I wanted to be baptized again as a born-again Christian, even though I had been baptized as a baby in the Lutheran church. We didn’t see eye-to-eye on matters of religion.
So I had hemmed and hawed about it, and now it was too late. My brother and I, along with the parish nurse and the visitation pastor from the local Lutheran Church were in the ICU room watching my mother die. The pastor was at the foot of the bed. My brother was on the right side, and the nurse was next to him. I was on the left side. I was bawling my eyes out, convinced that my own fear and weakness had kept my mother from hearing the salvation message that I thought I had a duty to tell her.
It was not long after nine PM, and I was holding her hand, and telling her I loved her, and that I was sorry. And at that moment, just before she died, I felt a hand on my shoulder, as though someone had come up beside me on my left side, and put their arm around me. And a quiet or “still, small” voice said to me, “It’s OK. She’s with me now.” Perhaps a minute later, her heart stopped.
Could I have imagined it? Could I have created that experience out of an intense desire to know that I would see her again in heaven? I suppose.
Could it have been Satan, taunting me? I doubt it. I believe in Satan, just as I believe in God, and the resurrection of Christ. You can’t logically believe in God, and not believe in Satan; you can’t have good without not-good, or evil. But it’s not Satan’s style to say something like that. He’d have been screaming “She’s mine now, you fool! You failed!”
I am convinced though that what I experienced that night in a lonely ICU room was a loving, merciful, compassionate God tending to His child in the best way He could. I didn’t want my mom to die. I miss her and my dad terribly. But her body was worn out. Yes, He could have healed her, just as Christ healed so many. But physically touching me was much more miraculous than anything he could have done for her. My God, the Creator of the universe, the Great I Am, presented Himself to someone who was hurting and alone one night. How can I doubt a God like that?
So that is what I choose to remember in December. I could focus on the loss, and how my mother won’t be around to see her grandchildren grow up, and how they won’t have as many loving grandparents in their lives. I could focus on the anguish of watching her lie in a bed, her body refusing to give up. But instead, I choose to focus on the way my God showed His love for me. Isn’t that the better way to deal with Christmas ghosts?
My Outrage Over Fort Hood
Four days after the shootings at Fort Hood, I finally feel ready to try and express the anger and outrage I am feeling about the shooting.
I’ve heard the word tragic used to describe the incident, and it certainly was. It was tragic that over 50 people on a US military installation were unable to defend themselves.
In a combat zone, soldiers aren’t without their weapons. That rifle or sidearm gets carried everywhere the soldier goes, because they never know when they’ll need that weapon. We trust them in a combat deployment to handle their weapons safely, and to know when to shoot, and when not to shot.
I’m told that it wasn’t that long ago that officers and non-commissioned officers always carried a sidearm with them, on post or off. I suppose it’s been quite a while, as I served some 20 years ago, and no one I knew carried a weapon off duty. But it used to be a matter of honor for personnel to carry a weapon; they would never be caught without one.
But on 5 November, many were caught without one. Some were caught dead. Fort Hood Police Sgt. Kimberly Munley and Sgt Mark Todd responded to reports of gunfire within three minutes. There’s no question that their speedy and heroic response saved lives. But what of the lives lost in those three minutes?
I’m not faulting the response of Fort Hood Police at all. But they can’t be everywhere. Sgt Munley happened to be within three minutes of the SRC. But what if she had been farther away? How many more would have died?
I am outraged that a member of the US Armed Forces would turn a weapon against his fellow soldiers, violating his oath as an officer, and the Soldier’s Creed.
I am even more outraged that members of the US Armed Forces were disarmed on their post, unable to respond to a threat. There is no excuse for Major Hasan, and no excuse for the inability of his victims to defend themselves. What have we come to as a nation that we would disarm the very people who are sworn to protect us from all enemies, foreign and domestic?
Home Bible Study Groups Banned in San Diego?
I’ll start with a link to the original Fox story that got my attention. That led me to a Google News search, and a pair of WorldNetDaily articles and with a little more information.
Pastor David Jones and his wife life on a cul-de-sac. Last month, they were met by a county official who asked them a series of questions about their Tuesday night bible study, such as “Do you say ‘Amen?’ or ‘Do you sing?’” They were then told that their weekly bible study with about 15 people violated land use guidelines, and they had to “stop religious assembly or apply for a major use permit.”
MUPs seem to be designed for churches and other large concerns, as they require traffic and environmental studies, etc. to make sure the land is used properly. They’re expensive, too, and the Jones’ face escalating fines for each violation if they don’t stop their “religious assembly.”
So where’s the line between home bible study and church? My church has about 23 people there on a given Sunday morning; 9 are named Mueller. 5 are named Johnson. It’s just about 4-5 families and couples. Are we a congregation at the church building? What if we meet at a home for bible study?
I think obviously the county stepped in it by singling out “religious assembly” in the complaint. Had they said the couple was violating some ordinance about parking, or occupancy, they might be on better ground, but this seems to be a clear First Amendment violation. I’d be really interested to see the county’s guidelines about major use permits, and who needs them and when. I’d also be curious about their regs concerning churches, and how those regs mesh with the . I’d also be interested to know if the county is going to start cracking down on other weekly events held at homes, like cookouts, or football parties.
Who Thought This Was A Good Idea?
“Voluntary surrenders,” AKA the Greyhound Escape Plan.
Since 1996, the US Bureau of Prisons has let some prisoners transfer between prisons unescorted. How? By buying them a one-way ticket to the bus terminal nearest their new home.
How effective has it been? Historically, fewer than 1 in 500 inmates being transferred without escorts have absconded, according to bureau spokeswoman Traci Billingsley. The reason behind such moves? Purely economic, says Billingsley. USBP and US Marshals Service say it’s cheaper this way, and that they don’t have the staffing to escort every prisoner transfer.
But how much is it going to cost them to go after Dwayne Fitzen? He’s been gone since 2004, when he got off a bus in Las Vegas, on his way from Minnesota to California. He had two years left in his prison term, but he he got to Vegas, withdrew $12,000 from the bank, and disappeared. USBP notes that they’ve only lost about 180 inmates since 2006, and that of the 77 inmates who escaped during unescorted transfers from October 2003 to September 2005, all but 19 were recaptured or returned to custody. Dwayne Fitzen is one of those 19, by the way. His crimes? Cocaine distribution, along with a prior gun conviction. Additionally, he was only 12 years into a 24-year sentence, which is way outside published guidelines for such a transfer. The USBP website says inmates only have two years left on their sentence; wardens say it’s usually like 10. Fitzen had 12. Hmm.
Certainly makes you reconsider ever letting my kids travel alone by bus, doesn’t it?
Parental Rights vs Children’s Health
There are several related stories in the news in the last few days.
13-year-old Daniel Hauser has Hodgkin’s, and his mom is refusing chemo in favor of natural/alternative treatments. She and Daniel are on the run. Supposedly Daniel has refused treatment, but other reports say he’s learning-disabled and may not understand what’s involved.
11-year-old Madeline Neumann of Wisconsin died last year of complications of untreated diabetes, while her mother prayed over her. Mom’s on trial for second-degree homicide; dad’s trial is coming.
14-year-old Alexander Draper of South Carolina was just found; his mother took him and fled a court appearance over neglect and endangerment charges stemming from Alexander weighing 555 pounds.
Finally, here’s a Newsweek link that states things a little better than I can.
Where do you draw the line? When should The System step in to protect a child? Certainly Alex Draper has issues, and Madeline Neumann could have been saved. But what of Daniel Hauser? His mother is supposedly seeking the counsel of a man who claims to have cured his own case of Hodgkin’s through natural remedies. Should she have the right to seek alternative treatment over proven medical therapies? The treatment she’s fighting has a 91% success rate.
There’s a group wants faith-based exceptions to medical treatment overturned, or at least more limited than they currently are. The founder is a former Christian Scientist who lost her child to spinal meningitis in 1977 after turning to CS practitioners. (The website comes down pretty hard on CS in general.)
I’m torn on this one, quite honestly. For something like cancer, where we really don’t know all that much about some types, and the side-effects of the cure are almost as bad as the disease, should The System step in? When? How long should you give an alternative or faith-based treatment before expecting results? The concern though is that sometimes, the alternative treatments can be just as dangerous as the accepted medical treatments, or the parents aren’t getting good information, relying on just one or two websites that probably talk about the conspiracy between Big Pharma and Doctors.
For the record, I have seen some medical conditions seemingly cured through prayer: multiple uterine cysts that disappeared; a cancer sent into remission before medical treatment was begun. I believe in the power of prayer.
As a parent, I’d move heaven and earth to save my kids. But. This will be a step to the outside for some of you, but what if I’m convinced that God has told me to stop the conventional treatments, and let Him work? Who am I responsible to at that point? And yeah, there’s been one time in my life that I know God spoke to me – I literally felt His touch.
Here’s one more angle to consider. There are some who say a 13-year-old child should be allowed to consent to a particular medical procedure without the parents having any say in the matter. So should 13-year-old children be allowed to give/withdraw consent for any medical procedure, or just some? Which ones?
Is This The Best He’s Got?
So the buzz before the election was how great Obama was, and how smart he was, and how it was going to be nice not having the President do stupid stuff to embarrass the US….
then he goes on late-night television, and insults every mentally or physically challenged athlete who’s ever [URL="http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2009/03/19/national/main4878076.shtml"]competed in the Special Olympics[/URL]…
and then he decides to give a gift to a visiting foreign leader. PM Gordon Brown brought President Obama a penholder carved from the sister ship of the slave ship that provided the wood for Obama’s desk. The President’s return gift, to a foreign visitor with vision problems? A set of 25 classic American movies. On American DVDs. “What? [URL="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/mandrake/5011941/Gordon-Brown-is-frustrated-by-Psycho-in-No-10.html"]Wrong region[/URL]? What do you mean ‘Wrong region’?”
I’ve heard and read so many times about the awesome staff an American president has at their beck and call, and they couldn’t have come up with A) a better gift for a visually-challenged man, or B) DVDs that will actually play when their visitor goes home?
Sigh.
