Sin, Grace, and the False Dilemma

The other day, the Christian band "Among the Thirsty" had a quote posted on their Facebook timeline. No one was credited, so I'm assuming it was one of their musicians, but I could be wrong.  Anyway, I liked this quote because it perfectly summarized a thought I've been having lately.

This is what was posted:

"The depravity of man and God's unconditional love for man are merely opposing truths without the bridge that Christ creates."

Lately, it seems I've been bombarded with this idea that EITHER we are dirty, worthless, weak sinners, OR we are redeemed, beautiful, beloved children of God.  I've been gently chided by well-meaning people for suggesting that I'm weak or worthless. I've heard people talking about this either-or scenario, seen people post about it on social media. And honestly, I have wanted to speak up about it for awhile.

Now, I get where some people are coming from (to a point). There are those that can't believe God would love them or that Christ would die for them because they believe the lie that they're too dirty or too far gone. There are also people who have gone through situations that make it oppressively difficult for them to refer to themselves or others as "dirty" or "worthless." I'm trying to be sensitive to that, but I'm coming from a different place. I can't keep quiet about it.

I'm coming from a place where I realize how sinful, weak, and worthless I really am. I'm coming from a place where I know the depravity of my heart, the way it can be quickly turned, the way it seeks the idol of self, the way it always has sought the idol of self. I know how weak I am, that I fear so much, that I want to hide away from the world. I know my worthlessness, that I've corrupted myself for the sake of such temporal things, that I don't have anything of my own to give.

In the perspective of the either-or philosophy on redemption that I've seen so often lately, things don't look so good for me.

Good thing I don't buy into the false dilemma, either-or philosophy.

It's not an either-or; it's a BOTH-AND. It's the most remarkable both-and scenario that ever existed, will ever exist. It's the both-and that changes everything.

I can't grasp how remarkable it is that God loves me unless I know how unlovable I am. I can't grasp how powerful God is unless I know how weak I am. I can't grasp how remarkable it is that Christ would die for me while I was still a sinner, unless I have some minute knowledge of how totally depraved I am.

I'm not wallowing in sin and worthlessness.  That's not where I am at all.  I'm understanding (as much as I can) how hopeless I would be without Christ so that I can appreciate (as much as I can) how much hope I have with Christ.

I'm no longer worthless, not because of some innate worth, but because Christ has given me worth and restored me to the purposes for which I was fearfully and wonderfully made-the God works which were prepared in advance for me to do, to the glory of God. I'm no longer weak because Christ's power is made perfect in my weakness. I'm no longer dirty because Christ literally went through hell to clean me up.

But I can't forget who I would be if God decided to leave me as I was, without Him. I can't act as if I were (and I quote a "Sidewalk Prophets" song that has great intent, and yet, I believe, misses the point) "someone worth dying for." I'm NOT someone worth dying for. But God, because He IS worthy, became a man and died for me. It's not because I am lovable, but because HE IS LOVING.

That is the point.

And while others might find the both-and scenario oppressive, I find that this truth frees me up.  My time and talents aren't mine. They were freely given to me, so I can freely give to others. My worth isn't by my own merit, so I don't have to be afraid that I'm going to mess up and somehow lose my worth. My weaknesses are just opportunities for Christ to reveal His strength. I can truly love my Father because I know how much He loves me. I can truly serve my Father because I know what He has done to adopt me as His child--not just a servant (though I don't even deserve to be that) BUT HIS CHILD.

I'm not wallowing in sin here at all. I'm realizing the remarkable, wonderful, incredible truth that Christ has done the impossible. He bridged the dilemma, the gap, the chasm of our sin, ever keeping us from God's holiness.  He's brought us back to God, made us whole again, and made us children of God.  No, I'm not wallowing. I'm rejoicing!

All glory to God.

The Year of Glory

I'm updating my blog from my phone, which is weird for a couple of reasons. First, I now have a phone that's smart enough to be able to do that, and second, my phone just has one of those Swype keyboard things that I had never heard of before I got this phone that's probably smarter than I am.

Yes, it's 2013, in case you didn't know. I'm having trouble grasping that fact. Actually, I can still vividly remember being 15 years old and telling my sister how weird it was that it was almost 1996.  ...what happened?

I started 2013 out right by getting sick. And even with a day off for New Years, I still worked 50 hours this week...while having a cold that's starting to seem suspiciously like a sinus infection. I'm not complaining, just explaining why my brain hasn't fully realized that it's no longer 1996.  I mean 2012.

I feel the need to do a year end/year beginning blog, but I'm not sure about this year. Last year, several of my close friends moved away. I dealt with minor depression. I had some hard financial moments. A lot of things changed. Other things didn't.

Last year I managed to meet some of my goals, but I failed miserably on other ones. My writing was pathetic last year, but my running went well. I'm not sure I can maintain both running and writing at the same time. I want to get back into writing, but I'm scared to make goals.  I want to possibly run a full marathon this year, but I'm not sure I'll be able to. I'm afraid of failing, as usual. I know I'm very capable of failing. That can too easily become an excuse.

About 11 or 12 years ago I got assigned to the preschool program at Ridgecrest Conference Center.  I had worked at Ridgecrest the previous year, but not in preschool.  In fact, up until that summer, I thought I was bad with/didn't like kids.

I went along with it, all the while thinking it was going to be a bad summer. I went through training and all of that, still thinking  it had been a huge mistake. The first say with the kids, I stood off to the side and observed, thinking I'd just be useless. But there was this Hispanic kid named Luis who was very shy and who barely knew English. He sat in a corner and cried. No one noticed, but I saw Luis. All I did was pull BROWN BEAR, BROWN BEAR off the shelf. I sat next to him and read it to him. He stopped crying. He got attached to me. The rest of that week, he blossomed into a happy, playful child. And I figured out I had a gift for working with kids. I was 21 years old.

Now, I made plenty of mistakes that summer. I still do. I can't be perfect, but I can still use what God has given me to bless others.  And when I really think about it, as well as I know myself, I figure God still has some surprises about how He will use me.

This is the year of Glory. And I don't really understand Glory, which is probably a good thing. It's too big for me to understand and too big for me to handle. So it makes sense to give it to God.  He can handle it better. He is the only one worthy of it, and He didn't design us to keep it. The world it's such a frustrated place mainly because people keep trying to take what only God was meant to have.

And I'm one of those frustrated people, just relying on grace, which, thank God, is sufficient.

I really don't know what 2013 holds. I hope to go on a mission trip overseas. I am thinking of running a full marathon to possibly raise funds for that trip. I hope to work more on some recording projects, reevaluate what I want to do with my writing. ...and...I don't know.  Because I don't know what God has in store. It might be something I never imagined. I once thought I had no desire or talent to work with kids, so who knows what other surprises God might have. All I know it's that it's not about me. And so I have no business being afraid. If I fail, there's grace and redemption. If I succeed, it's not by my power...and probably not even by my own plan.

I was thinking about my accomplishments from last year. On the surface, completing the half marathon seems to be the biggest accomplishment.  But...I can't define a whole year by a moment. Last year's greatest things were probably simple...like getting laughs from a grumpy kid, or spending time with dear friends, or just rejoicing even when friends left...because it was such a gift to know them.  That was 2012. 2013 won't be made up by just grand events, either. The little moments will be just as important...if not more so.

Regarding blogging and my new intelligent phone, I will try to get into a regular blogging routine again. Fiction Friday is coming back, but not every week. I'll shake it up somehow, because that's how I roll.  ...yeah...

So stay tuned and stay awesome, and I'll try to figure out what year it is.

Stones

“John said to the crowds coming out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham.” –Luke 3:7-8


“Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, ‘Teacher, rebuke your disciples!’
‘I tell you,’ He replied, ‘if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.’” Luke 19:39-40


A couple of years ago, I bought a Betta fish and named her Julie Andrews. Poor Jules didn’t survive the first night. So the next day, I took Julie Andrew’s fishy little corpse back to Pet Smart and traded her in for Johnny Depp (AKA Betta Version Beta). Johnny did not make it through the week. I took his fishy little corpse back to Pet Smart and got my money back. I was done with grieving dead celebrity-named fish. In fact, after that, I strongly considered just getting a pet rock. It’s hard to kill something that’s never been alive.

It doesn’t get much more lifeless than a rock.

I’ve spent a lot of time outdoors lately, so I’ve seen a lot of rocks. They sit there, looking…rocky. They’re nice to look at sometimes, but they don’t do anything. The rest of nature? It’s alive! Puffy clouds catch the sunlight, looking so peaceful and perfect as they float in the blue, blue sky. Large birds soar overhead, while little birds flitter from tree to tree. Squirrels rush around acting squirrelly. Flowers sway in the breeze, painting the green grass with tiny bursts of color and beauty. Butterflies and bumblebees dance from flower to flower, chasing the wind, enjoying the wonder of being alive, just doing what they were created to do.

Nature is alive with praise.

All living things have been given God’s breath—the birds and bees and even the squirrelly squirrels are praising God just by doing the simple things they’re created to do. They don’t have too much of a choice about it. They do what they do because God has made them the way He has made them. They praise God just by being alive.

But we do have a choice.

I forget sometimes what a privilege it is to even be able to praise the Lord. I have the breath of God inside of me. Without it? I’m nothing more than dust—as lifeless as a rock. Sometimes I squander that precious breath on such trivial things—things meant to build up my pathetic kingdom instead of God’s Kingdom.

Other times, I forget a very simple truth and start allowing myself to believe a very tricky lie. I allow myself to believe that God needs me, that I’m something special, that I have to do things because I’m important to the work God is doing.

But God doesn’t need me.

And God doesn’t need you.

If we chose not to praise God, or if we fail in our attempts to serve God, God would not cease to be God. God doesn’t need us to be His servants, and He doesn’t need us to praise Him. He doesn’t need anything. But if God needed servants or needed praises, He could raise servants and worshippers out of the rocks. The lifeless rocks. 

God doesn’t need praise. He desires it and is worthy of it because of who He is. And we were created not because God had a need for us, but because He desires us. He doesn’t need us; He’s chosen us. He wants us. He LOVES us. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s a lot better to be loved than to be needed. It changes my perspective. I don’t have to be great and constantly fight to maintain my own greatness. God isn’t going to love me any more or any less whether I succeed or fail. He just loves me—without degree or condition—and that love doesn’t change depending on what I do. God doesn’t love me because I’m something amazing; He loves me because He’s something amazing. …and the awesome thing is that through His amazing love, I too become amazing. God doesn't change, but through Him, I am changed.  He's constantly working on me and in me to make me more like Him.

I started out as dust, as lifeless as a rock. That humbles me. It also helps me realize how wonderful God is.

He is able to give life to nothingness. He has given us His breath, made us in His image to glorify Him. We have a spark of His awareness and creativity inside of us. Out of all creatures, He has given humanity the ability to choose whether or not we will serve and praise Him. Out of all creatures, He’s offered us the choice to come and work alongside Him—not because we’re needed, but because He’s gracious enough to offer such a grand and glorious thing.

I’m thankful for His faithfulness. I’m thankful for His conviction. I’m thankful for the beauty of nature and the ability to see His hand in all of it. I’m thankful that He has given me life, inspiring the dust to move and live and breathe for His glory. I’m thankful for the power that is able to raise worshippers from stones, for the power that is able to roll stones away from graves, and for the fact that this power is at work in me.

I’m grateful for the Living Rock that makes all other life possible. If Abraham’s children are raised from the stones, I pray I might join their number. If the rocks cry out, I pray I might join their songs of praise.

He is worthy.

And I’m just humbled and amazed that One so mighty would want me for His child.

The Purpose of Daffodils

It doesn’t take a genius to realize that I love daffodils. In fact, I love every yellow flower. Whether the flower is bright sunshiny yellow or a pale buttery yellow, there’s just something happy about yellow flowers. I suppose if I had to pick a favorite one, though, it actually would be the daffodil.


Daffodils are the flowers for March (did you know that months had flowers? now you do), which is fine by me. Although I’m not really all that happy about having been born in a month that so many other people have been born in, March really is the happiest time to have a birthday. My own birthday is two-three days before the actual start of spring, but usually nature already thinks spring is here. My birthday is near the start of my favorite season. My birthstone is the aquamarine, which is just gorgeous, in my opinion. And my favorite flower is also my birth month flower. But that’s not why it’s my favorite flower.

Daffodils come up in late February, in March, or sometimes in early April—whenever nature decides it’s time for spring to finally come around. Whatever the calendar says, or whatever the other flowers and trees do, I always wait for the daffodils. When the daffodils come up, it’s spring. The appearance of daffodils is a sign that the long winter is over (even if this past winter wasn’t too bad at all around here, thank the Lord) and that life will be renewed.

This, combined with the happy beauty of the color, is why daffodils (and yellow flowers in general) are a symbol of hope to me. Whenever I see yellow flowers, I can’t help but feel at least a little hopeful.

The other day I was driving down the road and I saw these huge flower beds filled with daffodils. They were everywhere. I smiled as I drove past, reveling in their simple beauty, drinking in the familiar feeling of hopefulness and joy. A few minutes later, however, I drove past a patch of grass where just a few scraggly, wind-blown daffodils had grown.

There were only two or three of them. One of them was bent over. All of them had broken leaves. But as I looked at them, I realized that these few flowers were more beautiful to me than the multitude of daffodils I’d seen only moments before. The plentiful daffodils were lovely, and they made me feel happy. But the few, tattered daffodils gave me a greater sense of joy and hope.

The battered daffodils said to me:

“The world is harsh, but we still stand.”

“We are small, but we are together.”

“We aren’t strong, but we were made for a purpose.”

“We are weak, oh, but life is still renewed.”

In comparison to these few, bent flowers, the plentiful daffodils seemed almost too much, almost garish. But the daffodil is a very unpretentious flower. The plentiful ones weren’t trying to outshine the others. Both the plentiful and the few flowers did just what they were supposed to do that day—they made me think about the One who made them.

Maybe if I were a photographer, I’d have stopped and taken pictures of those flowers. But even if I’d had a decent camera with me at the time, I wouldn’t have taken any photographs that would have done those flowers justice. I’m not a photographer. I’m a writer. But my job as a writer should perform the same function as a photographer’s job, or a painter’s job, or a musician’s job, or a janitor’s job, for that matter. Our purpose is to give glory to the One who made us.

Maybe we’re standing strong in a field alongside many others, shining and beautiful and radiant. Maybe we’re standing by ourselves, slumped over by the hardship of this world.

But there is hope.

Life is being renewed.

And we were made for a purpose.

Soli Deo Gloria.

Cheating

I'm supposed to be taking a break from writing so that I can read and reevaluate my writing goals. Of course, I've cheated a little bit. A couple of short story ideas have come to my mind. Though I've tried to rein in my enthusiasm, I have written a little bit on both of these stories.

Last night was one of these times. I only wrote a few paragraphs, but something interesting happened. It's a strange thing that has happened before, but it always takes me by surprise. It always serves to both strengthen me and humble me.

Let me back up a bit before I continue. Let me just go ahead and back up about a decade, give or take a couple years.

When I was about nineteen, I had a crisis of faith. I'd been a Christian for about ten-twelve years; I'm one of those people who isn't sure exactly when I was saved--but I think it was somewhere around the age of seven, even though I wasn't baptized until I was nine. But at nineteen, I wasn't sure what I believed about God anymore. I wasn't sure what I believed about anything anymore. There finally came a point when I shut myself up in my little brother's treehouse (seriously, the only place I could find privacy) and left notes for my family to leave me alone until I was ready to come out. I took with me my Bible, a notebook, a pen, and all my doubts and questions and fears. Then, I did business with God.

I was very honest with God about everything I struggled with. Even with all the blessings in my life, for some reason, I just couldn't find a reason to keep believing in what I had always known to be true. So then I told God, "I don't think I can believe in You anymore."

I was an atheist...

...for about ten minutes.

I sat alone in that treehouse trying to contemplate what this new life of disbelief would mean for me. I discovered it was kind of boring.

So I picked up my notebook and started flipping through it. I'm not even sure why--probably just because it was there and I wanted something to do. My eyes fell upon a poem I had written probably about a week or two prior. I read the words and had the unusual realization that I had not written that poem.

It was in my handwriting. I remembered the occasion when it had been written. I remembered sitting out and watching the sunset and taking the pen into my hand. I remember moving the pen across the paper. But the words of that poem were foreign to me; the words of that poem were beautiful. It was a poem of praise and wonder and simple, pure love.

And I didn't write it.

So I got down on my knees and shed tears of joy for the knowledge that I had a reason to believe. God had not abandoned me as it seemed. Rather, He was trying to teach me something through a dark period of my life by seeming distant. He wasn't really distant. I believed, and my faith became stronger than it had ever been before. God wrote through me.

He still writes through me today.

Let's come back to the present now.

Last night, I only wrote a few paragraphs on a short story. When I looked back over the words that had come out of my pen, I read such truth in them. I knew that I had not written them.

Now, I have been told that writing cannot be a Spiritual Gift because it's not listed as a Spiritual Gift anywhere in Scripture. I'm not sure where I stand on that. I don't know if the Spiritual Gifts listed in Scripture are the only ones that a person can have. I don't want to speculate too much on that, because honestly, I don't think it really matters.

For whether or not my writing is a Spiritual Gift or not, I know for certain that there are times when I'm not the one in control of my writing. It's both humbling and inspiring to know that I'm not the one in control. It means that I can't take credit for it, but it also means that I don't have to worry. If God is in control instead of me, then that takes a huge burden off of me. I can't do anything without Him, but nothing is impossible for Him.

And just as I'm confident that He is writing through me, I'm confident that in His timing, He will bring my writing to completion. He is using me; He is using my writing. He will use me; He will use my writing. I don't know if that means I'll get a literary agent and a huge book contract and have a huge following. I don't know if that means I'll go to a lowscale publisher and just have a few faithful readers.

If one person comes to the knowledge of Christ through my writing, if one person comes to a stronger realization of who Jesus is, if one person gains strength or encouragement or a greater understanding of the truth through what the Lord has written through me...

...it will all be worth it.

Soli Deo Gloria.

Some Confessions, A Calling, and A Cry

This is long. I make no apology. I have a lot on my brain and need to dump it somewhere. So I'll dump it here.

I care too much about what other people think of me. This sin probably contributes a little to the fact that I'm just now starting to attempt to get my writing published. It's not the only reason. In fact, sometimes I wonder if I'm even ready to try to get anything published at all.

Recently, someone was talking about giving birth. I have never given birth and probably never will. I'm only 30, so at this point I could still potentially get married and have kids. But, I'm really adverse to the idea of walking around nine months with a living creature growing inside of me, only to have to painfully squeeze it out in front of some weird doctor(s). The idea of a C-section is even more appalling--actually being awake while said weird doctor cuts you open. Eww. No thanks. I love kids and have a huge heart for adoption, so if I do get married, kids aren't out of the question--I'm just not big on the idea of having my own.

Anyway, I started thinking about my writing, likening it to having a child. For far longer than nine months, I've been carrying around this child. I conceived it about nine years ago. It's grown and developed quite a bit. I started having some contractions. I thought I was finally ready to deliver, so I started looking around for someone to help me deliver--a literary agent for my midwife. I'm starting to have some doubts to that. Perhaps I wasn't really having contractions. Perhaps they were Braxton-Hicks contractions that led me to believe I was ready when I wasn't.

I'm still not sure if I'm ready to do this. Part of the reason I went ahead and sent out some queries is because I started sensing that some people thought I was stalling out of fear. So I went ahead and sent out some. I'm not saying that the only reason I proceeded was because I cared what other people thought, but that was at least part of it. I care what people think.

And here's where I get really honest. I'm not sure how many of my perceptions are true, or how much I just invent out of my own self-conscious vanity, but it hurts me to believe that there are people out there that think that writing is a foolish pursuit. And I do believe that. I believe that there are others who judge me because I actually dare to believe that the Lord has given me this work to do.

Writing isn't church work. It's not an obvious ministry. It isn't like going overseas and working with orphans or unchurched people. It's not like teaching a Bible study. It's not like handing out food to the homeless people downtown. And I perceive, either correctly or incorrectly, that there are people in my church and circle of friends who think I'm batty for even wanting to do this. Whether or not my perceptions are correct, it matters not. The fact of the matter is, I'm sinning by caring too much about what other people think. If the Lord has called me to this, then it will happen. If He hasn't, I need to trust Him to show me that and lead me to what He wants. I do believe He has called me to this. I believe that, in His timing, there will be fruit to the work I'm doing. The figurative child will be delivered, and the child will be something God can use. It doesn't matter whether anyone agrees with me and my vision or not.

Another sin I have is vanity--which is related to the caring of what others think. A lot of people have asked why I don't sing more in church. I'm in the choir at my church, but I'm aware of the fact that I could probably do solos. I'm too well aware of that fact. The reason I don't ask to sing solos or make it more apparent that I can sing well is because I know how vain I am. I like to sing to praise God; I like to sing because the Lord gives me songs and the grace to sing. My fear is that if I get the chance to stand out too often, I'm going to be tempted to sing to glorify myself. My writing is no different. I fear that if I have success with my writing, I'll be tempted to praise myself instead of God.

The amazing thing about this process of trying to get published is how humbling it is. The Lord is incredibly faithful to humble us if we ask. I've been asking that for the past couple of weeks, and I've been seeing it in many aspects of my life. Working with kids gives me plenty of opportunities to be humble. I can't say I've always been the most humble this past week. Jesus said in Matthew 10 that if you offered a cup of cool water to a little one in His Name, you would not lose your reward. I have lots of opportunities to give cups of cool water to little ones. Sometimes I do it a lot more graciously than others. At the end of the day, I get to reflect on how I treated those kids, and on how much I have to rely on God to be gracious.

I'm also experiencing this humbling in my writing. I've queried about ten agents, and gotten back eight respones. All were rejections. The rejections themselves are not so humbling; they're what is to be expected. What's humbling is that I'm now confronted with the arduous task of assessing the rejections I've received and rewriting the queries I've sent and trying to figure out how and who to send my next queries to--if I'm even ready to do that at all. (Forgive the run-on sentences!) I obviously do not know what I'm doing and need guidance. I need grace. I can't do this on my own.

This brings me to my cry.

Last night, I attempted to start a book that is described as "Christian Fantasy" (Dragonspell by Donita K. Paul). I fell asleep two pages into it, not because it was that boring, but because I was THAT exhausted. I'm actually looking forward to reading more this afternoon. But in the front cover of this book, there are little quotes from other authors giving "praise for Dragonspell." I was reading some of these last night before starting the book, and one quote caught my attention: "No one will ever be able to read this and doubt that Christian fantasy is a viable genre for spreading God's Word." --Christine Lynxwiller (president of American Christian Romance Writers)

Now, I'm still trying to get over a lot of my prejudices against "Christian writers," and so I'm not sure how much I can trust the opinion of someone who is president of a group called the American Christian Romance Writers, but that really is neither here nor there. The important thing is that the quote so moved me last night that I had to pause for a few moments and burst into tears.

I want my writing to elicit that response in people. I want people to read my work and think that it's something that could draw people to God and to the Gospel. I believe that it's not only possible (all things are possible with God), but that the Lord has called me to this very thing. And the cry of my heart is that the Lord would do something big--not with me, but with my writing. The cry of my heart is that He will get the glory for it. The cry of my heart is that lives will be changed because of this work the Lord has given me to do.

And I cry out, begging for your prayers as I try to be faithful to what God has given me to do. I pray that I will only be concerned about what God wants, and not give a second thought to what other people may or may not be thinking. I ask that God will direct me in this uncertain process and this uncertain stage of my life. If there's an agent He wants me to have, He will provide that. If He wants me to market this book towards a more Christian audience, He will reveal that to me and open the doors for that to happen. If He has something else planned that I can't even imagine, then that will happen, too.

I'm learning that trust and obedience live in a completely symbiotic relationship. You can't obey without trusting, and you can't trust without obeying. If I trust God, that's going to be fleshed out through obedience. There are so many things that beg for our time and attention--so many needs to be prayed for. I am still foolish enough to ask that you add this to the many things that you pray for. I ask that you would pray for guidance for me as I seek to trust and obey God. I ask that you would pray that His name be glorified in my writing and my work. I ask that you would pray for the right timing and the right marketing and the right avenue for my writing to make maximum impact on the people God wants to reach.

I don't understand what God is doing, but I understand that He is doing something. I'm not sure if these contractions are the real deal or not. What I do know is that even if it's not time to deliver, God is using this "child" to teach me a lot.

Thank you so much for reading this (I know it was long). Thank you for praying. I am very much a weak fool, and I'm very much in need, but the God I serve is able to provide beyond anything I could ask or imagine. As wild as my imagination is, that's a pretty exciting concept.

Do I Want to Be a "Christian Writer"??

I am a Christian. I am a writer. I'm not so sure I want to be known as a "Christian writer" or a "Christian author." There are two main reasons for this.

There is a certain idea I get when someone says the words "Christian author." It is not a good idea. I think of bad romance novels with cardboard characters or sappy stories with no real plot or depth. In fact, off-hand, C. S. Lewis is the only "Christian author" I can think of who doesn't give me that negative idea. I don't want to be a writer that falls into the category of that idea I have of "Christian authors."

On the other hand, there are other authors I'm fond of that also happened to be Christians, such as Tolkien and Madeleine L'Engle. I don't really think of them as Christian writers; they were just writers who happened to be Christian. They were able to artfully weave subtle Christian themes into a story without compromising their art. This is the type of writer I'd like to be.

There is another reason why I don't think I'd like to be known as a "Christian author." If a non-Christian were looking for something to read, chances are, this person wouldn't be interested in reading a work of fiction by a so-called "Christian author." Most likely, the only people who would be interested in reading works by a "Christian author" would be other Christians. While there's nothing wrong with the idea of having other Christians read my writing, I don't want JUST Christians to read my writing. I want my writing to be available for everyone. I want it be marketed to everyone.

After a lot of prayer, I'm beginning to see how little I understand of what God is doing with me and my writing. God's convicted me that I really need to "get skooled" on what kind of Christian fiction actually exists in this world. I've been judgmental of what exists in the realm of Christian fiction. I've been too judgmental to really even investigate. A good friend of mine has suggested several books from the genre of "Christian fantasy" and "Christian Science Fiction"--I didn't even realize those were legitimate genres. I have some research ahead of me (yay reading!). It seems that if there's some groundbreaking going on in Christian literature, it might be a good time for me to try to get in on it. ...foot in the door...

I'm just not sure how the Lord wants me to market my stories. Right now, I'm just trying to be faithful and learn as much as I can. I'll continue to send queries and keep editing. I'll keep asking God for guidance. If you pray for me, my greatest request is that God will get glory from my writing. I'm not sure about all the "hows" that are involved, but I know He's called me here. He isn't finished with this...or with me.