Your purpose

Confronting

The debate was spirited with many sensitive comments and insights based on biblical references.

We were discussing when and how to confront a fellow believer, based on Paul's comments in 1 Corinthians 5.

Many were concerned about how to confront when we are not so perfect ourselves. "What about where Jesus said to take the plank out of your own eye first?" asked a woman in the back row.

A former pastor recalled the harshness of confronting a man many years ago, only to see him leave the church angrily and join another body, unrepentant and unreformed.

Another had seen a church split over sexual immorality within its ranks.

The stories were vivid and raw. We all agreed it would be easier to ignore the sin.

But what to do with Paul's words: "Are you not to judge those inside?" (1 Cor 5:12)

Yet Paul's reason for judging those inside the church is clearly detailed a few verses earlier. His purpose for judging was not to maintain the purity of the church or to polish its appearance.

His purpose was simply this: "so that the sinful nature may be destroyed and his spirit saved on the day of the Lord." (1 Cor 5:5)

Paul was concerned with the man's spirit. He was willing to confront or rebuke sharply if it would save a person presently on a path to destruction.

Some of the best judges have been brand-new believers who care so deeply about their buddies that they share the way of escape with them.

Do I care that deeply? I may choose the safe way to avoid the anger and unrepentant. But I think Paul suggested that our way is not safe but of deep concern for the welfare of others.

Therefore, rebuke them sharply, so that
they will be sound in the faith...

Titus 1:13

Cooking

The first time I put my youngest daughter in charge of fixing supper, we had an odd blend of clam chowder and black olives. I think she figured two cans of food covered all the food groups.

Today, however, she cooks fancy tomato basil soup and an elegant chicken dish that draws crowds.

I thought about her skills as I considered feet. Feet, by the way, are a curious thing in the Bible. Feet, in biblical terms, indicated authority. A king had rights over land touched by his feet. Those defeated were considered to be under the feet of their conquerors.

A psalmist many centuries ago wrote:

You made him [man] ruler over the works of your hands; you put everything under his feet. (Psalms 8:6)

So when God put everything under our feet, he meant we had authority to rule. I'm amazed, first, that he'd turn over the works of his hand to us. Look at what mankind has done to God's creation over the centuries.

This isn't about our worthiness. Do we deserve to be handed authority over God's creation?

How would my daughter have grown in her culinary skills if I had insisted she do it right the first time? I had to believe that she would learn and grow given opportunity. (And it took a little imagination after that first meal!)

God is more gracious than I am. He looks at his children and sees not bumbling failures but princes and princesses who can grow into their rule. He crowns his children and raises them to a lofty place that they have not earned.

Our response isn't to call ourselves master chefs, but shout this:

O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
Psalms 8:9

Counting the stars

God's fascination with the stars fascinates me.

He promised Abraham more offspring than stars in the sky.

So how many stars are in the sky?

I did a little research and discovered that nobody knows. Estimates range from 200 billion stars in our galaxy to 3 thousand million billion stars (3 followed by 16 zeroes), in the universe. NASA alleges there are zillions of uncountable stars.

Astronomers estimate there are about 100 thousand million stars in the Milky Way alone. Outside that, there are millions upon millions of other galaxies also!

That takes my breath away.

But look at how God views the stars: "He determines the number of the stars
and calls them each by name." (Psalms 147:4)

That's pretty awesome to consider. And then add in this idea: how many people have lived? More than the stars?

If God knows every star by name, he knows my name. And yours.

We are known by the One who can count the stars.

Adopted for Life

I agreed to review Russell D. Moore's book, Adopted for Life: The Priority of Adoption for Christian Families & Churches, because of my interest in pro-life issues. If we ask women in crisis pregnancy situations to bear their children, we should be willing to take those children into our own homes.

However, Moore's book is not a nuts and bolts book about adoption. Neither is it a recruiting manual for wanna-be adopters. In adopting two Russian boys a few years ago, Moore and his wife bring a tapestry of emotions and experiences to the table.

Moore weaves those experiences and emotions into our adoption as children of God, bringing a new vividness to those themes. He compares our adoption by God with bringing two little boys home from Russia, finding common themes in the situations.

Although Moore does include information on how to adopt if you feel God's leading, and the considerations involved in that decision, his insights into our spiritual adoption is worth the cost of the book alone.

This is a thoughtful book and one that will enrichen your walk with your heavenly Father. I highly recommend it.

My young warrior

Timothy busied himself in the afternoon preparing his program. At 13, he had a clear idea of what this presentation should look like.

Crepe paper was hung from the basketball court to the far corners of the garage’s cement apron. When an afternoon rain shredded the crepe, he hung more, adding a banner around parts of the driveway.

“I wish I could make the sun go down now,” he told me after supper. “What time does the sun go down anyway?” About 8:30, my young warrior. And it’s only 7 pm now. I wish I could make the sun go down for you, too.

As darkness fell, we were rousted. “It’s time, it’s time!”

With his iPod plugged into a pair of tiny speakers, blasting music from some “Requiem” that he introduced but forgot to explain, Timothy welcomed us.

“Some of these are really loud,” he said.

After the first little display pelted us with debris, we suggested he move to the other side of the driveway. He’d thought to bring his little lantern which could glow yellow or be switched to red. That and some slightly-stubborn matches accompanied him from the table to his next display.

“I twisted three wicks together for this next one,” he told us as he struck a match, which immediately died.

“Fuse,” his father said. “Not wick.”

“What’s a wick?.”

“Think of a candle.”

“Ah. OK. I twisted three fuses together.” Earlier, he had debated whether he should open the little balls of gunpowder to pour the contents into one big ball of gunpowder. I had discouraged the idea so he had switched to twisting the fuses.

After watching the series of little flashes and pops, we leaned back in our lawn chairs as he prepared the next one. “This will be loud.” He laid the match against the fuse, ran to the far corner of the driveway, and covered his ears. He was right.

We watched Dragon’s Eggs, where a whole series of little white balls exploded on the driveway. We watched Garden Flower, where a little cardboard disk spun, changing colors as it lost velocity. As it ended, Timothy burst back onto the scene, searching for the disk itself.

“Hmmm,” he swung his light around. “Look at the white spot where it was. Cleaned the driveway up there.” I was waiting for him to suggest lighting a whole series of Garden Flowers when we wanted to brighten up the concrete. But he didn’t, because, to his delight, he could find no signs of the cardboard.

“It must have disintegrated!” he said joyfully.

He had problems getting the next fuse lit. “I need better matches,” he said. One lit but the head immediately broke off, the flame falling to the concrete.

“Try pulling the match toward yourself when you light it,” his dad said. That worked a lot better and improved the page of the program considerably.

We watched more exploding firecrackers and another loud bang. “Isn’t this great?” Timothy said.

He’d searched hard for an empty glass bottle, locating one earlier in the day by climbing through all the junk in the burn pit out back. Now he slipped two rockets into it and lit them. They sailed into the inky sky, ending with a distant pop.

“Perfect,” he announced.

By then, a breeze was stirring and he hustled to get the next firecrackers lit.

The storm stole the rest of his show as a strong wing suddenly blasted the front yard and we scurried to get things undercover.

“ARGH,” he said. “The best part was coming. Did you see how they were getting better and better? We were getting closer to my grand finale.”

Another night, son. But I marveled at all the elements he’d created, from a written program to a thoughtful consideration of the order of the fireworks. He’d selected music, location, even decorations.

He’s a young warrior, but he had turned $5 work of fireworks into a display of love for his family.

Graduating

It seemed like the iPod of my era, when I unwrapped that little plastic transistor radio at Christmas. Suddenly, I could listen to my own music. I even had an earplug for privacy. The radio is long gone but the memories are still clear.

Memories were cascading yesterday as we celebrated the life and legacy of our dear Wilma. She graduated to heaven on Sunday, drifting away in her sleep. It was the way we all wanted her to go, if she had to leave us.

Wilma had three specific directions for her funeral. She instructed our pastor, in her soft Oklahoma drawl, these things:

• "Keep it short, Kelly."
• "Don't have one of those open mikes where people come up and say stuff about me."
• "And don't put any hootch in the punch."

And now, a little like spiritual orphans, we step onward.

But Wilma's instructions fascinated me.

First, keep it short. Wilma seldom missed a gathering. She loved people and would have watched our embraces and tears with a prayer and a pat on the back. But she didn't want us to linger in the grief we were feeling.

Because this life wasn't about her. That's what her second direction meant. She didn't want us to idolize her. Our pastor called her an arrow, pointing to her blessed Savior. She was a humble servant. Our memories of her ought not to puff her up, but to direct us to God.

Regarding her third instruction, trust me: there was no danger of hooch in the punch. But she reminded us all to lighten up. Life with the Lord is joyous and a frequent laugh makes the days more, well, Wilma-like. Wilma laughed a lot.

Gifts aren't ours forever. But they can make our lives so much richer and stronger.

We'll spend years discovering the treasures that Wilma, our gift from God, has buried in our memories.

Summer plans

I've been thinking about a family mission statement lately. Where is our family going? What are we trying to teach our children and why are we making the decisions we make?

I found some ideas to guide what we should be learning as a family - and as individuals. See what you think of my list:

• Learn wisdom
• Accept instruction
• Understand words of insight
• Learn to deal wisely, justly, and righteously with equity
• Teach knowledge and prudence
• Acquire skills

But the one I consider most important is this overarching idea: the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.

How do we as a family grow in our fear/respect of God? As we do that, it appears that we are at the trail head of knowledge.

These ideas come from Proverbs 1.

Our family's summer plans include the start of a moviemaking company as we learn more video and screenwriting skills. The goal is to make movie shorts (and maybe full-length someday) that will honor God.

Keep your eyes open for samples here. And hold us accountable for God's mission statement as laid out in Proverbs

Boys

Don't you love how God made the male mind? Here's an example:

I shouldn’t have been surprised when my 13-year-old son had never heard of daisy chains. After I described one to him, he perked up.

“I heard about somebody who weaved some kind of flower chain that ended up to be three football fields long,” he informed us. “He had to spray water on it all day to keep the flowers from dying.”

I visualized this huge project, a field of flowers with a chain curling delicately across it. Not my cup of tea. And where did he get those stories, anyway?

“Some people would find that quaint,” I mused. “And others would find it a huge waste of time.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And you couldn’t even tow anything with that chain either.”

A sweet hunt

I'm not very traditional about Mother's Day but I want to tell you about a tradition that's developing in our family.

A few years ago, my husband and youngest children brought home a bag of Hershey Kisses and proceeded to hide them around the house for me to find in the coming days. This year, my 18-year-old daughter decided this was a tradition worthy continuing. She's calling it the Kisses Scavenger Hunt.

So, I've found Kisses in my mug and on top my toothpaste tube. There was a Kiss in my box of tea bags and one in my slipper. I found a Kiss in my sock drawer and another in my pencil holder. I've had to laugh at how well my daughter knows my morning routine. Everywhere I turn, there's another Kiss.

Isn't it great to be known and loved? I'm probably going to get a chocolate buzz today as I uncover these little gems. (Well, you gotta eat them or they go bad, right?)

I want to keep my eyes open, too, because God has a sweet scavenger hunt going all the time. There are sweet kisses scattered throughout my day, left by my Father in heaven who knows me and loves me. Keep your eyes open, too!

"I have loved you with an everlasting love;
I have drawn you with loving-kindness....
Again you will take up your tambourines
and go out to dance with the joyful.

Jer 31:3-4

Unique vacations

I have an article on family vacations with a unique flair featured in the May/June "Inspired Moms" magazine. You can check it out here.

Olivia's purpose

Olivia wasn’t one to read poems at Bible study but this one was apparently important to her. She cleared her throat and read the lines in a sing-song sort of way.

There is a special place in life,

That needs my humble skill…..

And on it went, proclaiming the special mark in life that each of us will leave.

There is a special place in life

That I was meant to fill…..
(From "A Place for Me" by Grace E. Easley)

As Olivia put the paper down, she smiled. Olivia always smiles so that’s not something new. She has a sweet sense of humor and greets every visitor who comes into the assisted-living home where she resides.

“I really liked this poem,” she confided. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a purpose anymore. After all, I’m 93!”

I once attended a Native American pow-wow where the elders were honored with a special ceremony. As the drums pounded out a song I did not know, the chief escorted any person over 60 before the crowd. It was a solemn opening to their weekend of celebration.

“We give honor to our elders,” the chief explained.

American culture tends not to, so we have those like Olivia who have lived rich and interesting lives but feel like their time is done.

“This poem helped me,” Olivia said. “I think God still has use for me. I’m going to be looking for that every day.”

American culture suffers from age-ism, that bias against the elders. We put them in a box of narrowness, assuming they have little to contribute to society. We value young bodies and inexperienced minds.

Moses was 80 when he faced off against the Pharaoh. Abraham was 100 when Isaac was born. At age 500, Noah was building an ark in obedience to God.

God’s not so concerned with age so why are we?

The Mission Minded Family

It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his/her book's FIRST chapter!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Let me add a comment here: this is an important book if you influence children. By encouraging a mission focus, we can help the next generation to get outside themselves, to care about those who can't speak for themselves.

I've read this book and it's a valuable reference. I recommend it.

Today's Wild Card author is:

Ann Dunagan

and the book:

The Mission Minded Family

Authentic (July 1, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Ann Dunagan lives with a passion for the LORD and the lost. She is a homeschooling mother of seven (ages 7 to 21), an author, and an international minister alongside her husband, Jon Dunagan. In 1986, the Dunagans founded Harvest Ministry, focusing on remote city-wide outreaches, church planting, National Evangelism Team Support (NETS), training orphans, and motivating others for missions. Ann has personally ministered in 29 nations: speaking to women, preaching in villages, training children and youth, and encouraging parents and teachers. She enjoys fervent worship, time with family and friends, and writing. The Dunagan family is based in Hood River, Oregon.


Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $ 14.99
Paperback: 188 pages
Publisher: Authentic (July 1, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1934068438
ISBN-13: 978-1934068434

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Releasing Your Family to God’s Destiny

God has a destiny for your family. He has an individual plan for each member, as well as a “corporate” purpose for you as a family unit. God will help you, as parents, to train each child toward God’s mission for his or her life, and He will help you to focus your family toward making a strong impact for His kingdom—in your community, in your church, in your children’s schools, and in the world.

The Bible says in Psalm 127:4, “Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth.” This verse recently “hit” me in a new way as I was attending a graduation party. During the evening, a group of church leaders, led by the graduate’s father, gathered to pray for this young man. He had been raised to have a fervent heart for God and for world missions, and we prayed for God’s purposes to be fulfilled. As I laid my hands on the graduate’s mom (my dear friend Karen), I could sympathize with her mixed feelings: happiness and pride combined with a sad realization that this season in their family’s life was coming to an end. As we prayed, I “saw” (in my mind’s eye) her eighteen-year-old son as a straight arrow in a bow. Afterward, I leaned over and whispered in my friend’s ear, “You know, Karen, it’s not enough just to aim our arrows; to hit the target we’ve got to release the string!”

As our children grow, there will be repeated times of releasing each one to God: letting go of a little hand as a baby takes that first wobbly step . . . letting go of total educational control as a child steps onto that school bus or enrolls in that first college course. Or what about that moment when we let go of the car keys and an eager teenager plops into the driver’s seat of our car and takes control of the steering wheel?

Sometimes it’s very scary.

As I write this chapter, my husband and I have a nearly twenty-year old son climbing a dangerous mountain and then the following week heading to Oxford, England for a summer-long study-abroad program. Our eighteen-year-old son just graduated from high school and will soon be moving to a university two thousand miles from home. Our nearly sixteen-year-old daughter is just about to get her driver’s license.

No matter how many times I have released my children, I continually need to rely on God’s fresh grace for today’s particular moment. Whether it’s dropping off a little one into the arms of a church nursery worker or dropping off a young adult at an international airport, I need to trust God.

Just like Hannah released her little Samuel, I have surrendered each child to the Lord; yet I still have times when God convicts me that I need to rely on Him even more. At a deeper level, I need to continue to trust Him. With faith, I need to trust that God will direct each of my kids to fulfill His purposes (without me pushing them to do what I want). I need to trust that God will bring just the right spouse for each of my sons and daughters (without me trying to make something happen). And I need to trust God that He will protect my children as they begin to step out to fulfill His destiny (without me worrying or trying to figure it out).

As I have thought about this need to totally release each of my children to God’s purposes, I have tried to imagine—in my own finite way—what our heavenly Father must have experienced when He released His Child. God never struggles, but I believe He can relate to my feelings (and yours). He too had to release His Son—His only Son—in order to fulfill His plans for this earth.

Imagine with me:

What if someday God called one of my children . . . let’s just say, for an example, to go on a summer mission trip to Calcutta, India?

Would I be able to send him or her with confidence and joy?

If my husband and I prayed about the particular outreach and God gave us His peace about it, I know I would. My husband and I would uphold our child in prayer, and we would trust God’s direction. And as a mom, I would rely on Him for grace.

But the sacrifice God made was far greater . . .

What if someday a child of ours decided to move to Calcutta, India, for perhaps ten months . . . or ten years . . . or even longer? Could I handle that?

That would be much harder.

Although it would be difficult to live so far apart, I would do my best to support him or her through regular prayer and communication (and I would definitely hope for e-mail access!). If my grown child had a family, I would really miss getting to know my child’s spouse and his or her family; and I can hardly imagine how much I would yearn for time with those future grandchildren. Yet, if God was calling my child, I would let my child go . . . and rely on Him for extra grace.

But God’s sacrifice was still far greater . . .

So, to take the analogy one step further, what if my husband and I, back in time about twenty years ago, were expecting our first child, and God told us that He wanted us to surrender this precious newborn—right from birth? What if God said He had chosen a poor couple in Calcutta, India, to raise our baby? What if He said our little one would grow up in some obscure squatter village . . . would live among filth and poverty . . . would spend his life helping people . . . and, in the end, would be rejected, hated, and brutally killed by the very people he was sent to help?

Would I send my son to do that? How could I?

But (perhaps) that is a glimpse of what God did for us.

If we are going to raise a generation of world changers, it is likely that we will need to surrender our children into areas that may make us uncomfortable. He could call our child to pioneer a megachurch in a crowded inner city or to raise a large, God-fearing family in a quiet rural town. He may want our child to impact a corrupt political system or to redirect a greed-motivated business. He could call our precious son to enlist in the military or our pure daughter to have an effect on the media. He could call our child to Cairo, Egypt . . . or to New York City . . . or maybe even to Calcutta, India.

As mission-minded parents, will we “let go” of those arrows and encourage each child to fulfill the Lord’s plans? Or will we be God’s greatest hindrance?

It’s a heart issue, and it’s big.

Just as God released His Son for us, we need to totally release each of our children—again and again, every day—for His eternal purposes.


Pursuing God’s Purposes

An excerpt from The Missions Addiction, by David Shibley.

We whine, “I just want to know my purpose; I’ve got to reach my destiny.” We race all over the country to attend “destiny conferences,” and we devour tapes and books on “reaching your full potential.” It would be amusing if it were not so appalling. Even cloaking our self-centeredness in Christian garb and jargon cannot cover the nakedness of this cult of self that has infested much of the church. How can we ever hope to discover our purpose in the earth with little or no interest in His purpose? How will we ever know our destiny when we have so little identification with God’s destiny for the nations? It certainly is good to pray, “Lord, what is Your will for my life?” But even this can be a self-absorbed prayer. It is far better to pray, “Lord, what is Your will for my generation? How do You want my life to fit into Your plan for my times?”

Pursuing God’s purposes, not our own, is the path to personal fulfillment.


We’ve a Story to Tell to the Nations

A missions hymn, by H. Ernest Nichol (1862–1928)

We’ve a story to tell to the nations,

That shall turn their hearts to the right,

A story of truth and mercy,

A story of peace and light,

A story of peace and light.

Chorus:

For the darkness shall turn to dawning,

And the dawning to noonday bright,

And Christ’s great kingdom shall come on earth,

The kingdom of love and light.

We’ve a song to be sung to the nations,

That shall lift their hearts to the Lord,

A song that shall conquer evil,

And shatter the spear and sword,

And shatter the spear and sword.

We’ve a message to give to the nations,

That the Lord who reigneth above

Hath sent us His Son to save us,

And show us that God is love,

And show us that God is love.

We’ve a Savior to show to the nations,

Who the path of sorrow hath trod,

That all of the world’s great peoples

May come to the truth of God,

May come to the truth of God!

Chorus:

For the darkness shall turn to dawning,

And the dawning to noonday bright,

And Christ’s great kingdom shall come on earth,

The kingdom of love and light.



“I have seen the Vision and for self I cannot live;

Life is less than worthless till my all I give.”

Oswald J. Smith

Close to heaven

Lola leans forward eagerly. “I always say that God’s got a plan,” she said. “We just have to trust that.”

Edna’s eyes fall shut for a spell but then she snaps back to alertness.

I open my Bible and read. “We always pray for you, and we give thanks to God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Col 1:3)

Those are my words, too.

Mildred needs a large-print Bible although she brings her own Bible every week. “My kids gave me this one but I can’t read the print,” she tells us all every week.

I continue to read. “We have heard that you trust in Christ Jesus and that you love all of God's people.” (Col 1:4)

“I’m not very good at knowing how to share the gospel with people,” Lola reveals. “But I try to pray for them and I try to live for Jesus.”

I meet with this group every Friday morning. I started because my mother begged asked me but I keep going back. For three years now, I go back.

The oldest is 92 years old. Heaven is on their mind but mostly family and friends. They’re looking forward to their tea party after we finish today.

I read on: “You do this because you are looking forward to the joys of heaven—as you have been ever since you first heard the truth of the Good News. “ (Col 1:5)

Mildred's asleep again but Edna is hanging on every word now.

Heaven is not far from them. But, as I go back week after week, I find that heaven is not all that far away from me, either.

Book review while helping a brother

Just as his dream came true, his world fell apart. Just two months before Mike Delloso’s novel, The Hunted, was scheduled for release, Mike discovered he had colon cancer.

He’s now in treatment but bloggers at Writer…Interrupted have linked arms to help Mike market his novel in the midst of personal difficulties.

About the book:

A town’s deadly secret will drive one man to the edge of his faith…

Mike Dellosso offers a bone-chilling mystery in the style of Frank Peretti and Stephen King about the town of Dark Hills and the deadly secrets it holds in his debut novel,The Hunted, to be released June 3, 2008.

Joe Saunders is determined to unravel the mystery surrounding the brutal mauling of his nephew.

Police Chief Maggie Gill is determined to protect the mystery surrounding her family’s deadly secret.

But neither is prepared for the truth when the mystery revealed uncovers the horror that is lurking in the shadows of Dark Hills.

After learning of the disappearance of his nephew, Joe Saunders returns to his childhood home of Dark Hills to aid in the search effort. When Caleb is found, badly mauled and clinging to life, Joe embarks on a mission to find the beast responsible. But the more Joe delves into the fabric of his old hometown, the more he realizes Dark Hills has a dark secret, shrouded for three generations in a deadly code of silence. As Joe unravels the truth behind a series of unexplained animal attacks, murder, and corruption at the highest level of law enforcement, he is led to a final showdown where he must entrust his very life into God’s hands.

About the author:

Born in Baltimore, Maryland, Mike now lives in Hanover, Pennsylvania, with his wife, Jen, and their three daughters. He writes a monthly column for Writer . . .Interrupted, was a newspaper correspondent/columnist for over three years, has published several articles for The Candle of Prayer inspirational booklets, and has edited and contributed to numerous Christian-themed Web sites and e-newsletters. Mike is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance, the Relief Writer’s Network, and International Thriller Writers. He received his BA degree in sports exercise and medicine from Messiah College and his MBS degree in theology from Master’s Graduate School of Divinity.

Where did you get your idea for The Hunted?
The idea for The Hunted came from the internet. I was surfing one day just looking for ideas or something to spark my imagination and get the wheel churning when I came across this story of a small town in Indiana that reported lion sightings back in the 1920’s. Several of the townsfolk said they saw an African lion in the fields surrounding the town. A couple cows were mauled and eaten. Then the sightings just stopped. No one knows where the lion came from or where it went. I thought it was a pretty neat idea and ran with it. Story born. Happy birthday!

Okay, so what themes were you thinking about when you wrote the book?
So, here’s what I think the themes are, what I wanted the themes to be when I wrote the book (whether anyone actually finds these themes is another story entirely, and I’m okay with that, really I am, as long as they get something meaningful out of it). One theme is the idea of not putting God in a box, of letting Him be God, letting Him work in your life and do some miraculous things. I think too often we put a leash on God and tell Him what He’s allowed and not allowed to do. That’s not our place. God can do anything He wants to do. He’s the one in charge, remember?

Okay, enough of that. The second theme is the danger of a vengeful heart. Vengeance is a powerful thing; I think that’s why God said He’d take care of it. In the hands of mere mortals, it’s a deadly poison, able to consume a man and turn him into a monster. Revenge is not something we should try to harness. We have no business playing with that fire. In The Hunted we see the end result of a vengeful heart unbound.

Lastly, there’s the theme of forgiveness and acceptance and redemption. Beautiful things we experience from the heart our Heavenly Father and pass on to others.

Why did you choose to write supernatural suspense?
Because I’m weird. No, not really . . . well, maybe. Plenty of people think I am weird after reading my stories. It was a natural gravitation for me. I grew up loving The Twilight Zone and The X-files and any kind of monster movie. I’ve always been intrigued by legends like Big Foot and the Loch Ness monster. The unexplained has always fascinated me. I honestly can’t see myself writing anything else. I have so many ideas now, but maybe when I exhaust them I’ll try my hand at something else . . . maybe westerns.

Tell me about when you were diagnosed with cancer.
Yeah, cancer. Kind of a big thing. I was diagnosed on March 17th, St. Patrick’s Day. Here I was getting ready to launch into trying my hand at promoting my new book and in the middle of negotiating a contract for a second book when the doctor dropped the bomb: You have colon cancer.

Funny thing is, I don’t remember ordering colon cancer. Not part of my plans at all.

How has that diagnosis affected your writing?
How has it affected my writing? Well, immediately, it’s halted my writing. With the exception of daily journaling on my blog, I haven’t written a lick since being diagnosed. I love to write, it’s my passion, but this cancer thing trumps it. I took this diagnosis as a nudge from God that I need to set writing aside for a little while and just concentrate on the most important things: my relationship with Him and my relationship with my family. Sometimes it takes something like cancer to refocus you, to get you to evaluate your life and do a little re-prioritizing.

In the long run, I think the experience of traveling through this valley will only enhance my writing, give it more depth, more texture, more emotion and passion. I know firsthand what it’s like to traverse that Valley of the Shadow of Death, to question Why me?, to be scared of dying, not for dying’s sake but for my family’s sake, to live with a monster inside me that wants to kill me (hey, that gives me a great story idea), to be poked, prodded, scoped, and stuck, to live a life that revolves around the next test result or the next doctor’s appointment. I’ve been there now and I can incorporate those experiences into my stories, into the life of my characters. It’ll be interesting to see how my writing changes once I get back to it.

What is one thing your diagnosis has taught you?
One other thing I’ve learned is to fully rely on God, to willingly submit myself and put my life in His hands. And of course, this carries over into my writing as well. We writers never know where the next contract is coming from or how much the next royalty check will be for, or even how the next story will unfold, if there is a next story. We are constantly at His mercy, and I’m learning that’s a good place to be.

Check out Mike’s personal website and his blog.

You can order a copy of The Hunted from Amazon.

Please pray for Mike as he walks with God in this difficult time in his life. Here’s a list of the bloggers supporting Mike in this blogtour:

A Peek at My Bookshelf

Alien Dream

An Author’s Life

Artistic Blogger

Behind the Mountain

Blog Tour Spot

Camy’s Loft

Canadian Prairie Writer

Chatter Matters

Dee’s Christian Fiction:

Fictionary

Gatorskunz and Mudcats

Good Word Editing

Heart Chocolate

His Reading List

Home-Steeped Hope

Humbleoradio

In the Dailies

jessicajournal

Kells Creative Musings

Life in the Midst of Writing

Life with Missy

Light for the Writer’s Soul

Margaret Daley

Mommy Come Lately

My Cup 2 Yours

My Name is Michael Snyder

Not Just Romance but a Love Story

Notes in the Key of Life

Novel Journey

One Day

Penning Prose

Portrait of a Writer . . . Interrupted

Real Women Scrap

Refresh My Soul

Relevant Blog:

Savvy ReViews

See Ya On the Net

Sumballo

Terri’s Treasures

The Book Beat

The Law, Books and Life

The Surrendered Scribe

The Suspense Zone

The Write Message

wandering, wonderings of a whacked-out woman

Windows to My Soul

Wisdom Walk

Writing Career Coach

Writing on the Edge

It's in the eyes

It was the eyes that made me notice all the connections. I was chatting with faraway cousins at our uncle’s funeral, realizing that, as I looked at each set of eyes, they reminded me of my sister’s eyes – and my eyes. We all shared our fathers’ brown eyes and dark eyebrows.

I never noticed that when we were kids playing at the parks.

Almost all of us were farm kids, remembering days of hauling grain and hoeing weeds. Our values were amazingly similar, too, and we all laughed: why don’t we get together more often?

Family connections are strong.

That made me think about Jesus who was sent by his Father. In his length discussions with the Pharisees, as written on the book of John, Jesus made it clear that he came from the Father to help others know the Father.

His purpose throughout was to bring people to the Father.

“No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)

When Philip begged him, “Show us the Father and that will be enough,” Jesus responded clearly: “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father.” (John 14:9)

Among all the cousins, my brother stands out because he doesn’t share the brown eyes. His are green but his actions are like all of us. He shares many our values, even down the calloused farm hands.

It struck me, standing among family, how strong these family connections are.

We all look like our fathers because we our fathers’ children.

Jesus was saying the same thing: people, look at me. My actions are the same as my Father’s actions. When you see me, you see the Father.

When we look at Jesus, we can understand that he has his Father’s eyes.

Want to know the Father? Look at his Son.

A beautiful place

I've been fascinated with a new blog called A Beautiful Place. I stumbled onto (actually, I think I found it through Proverbs 31 Ministries). Shari Braendel has fashion tips that emphasize the modest and yet stylish. She describes what to wear from a Christian point of view. Let me know what you think of her ideas.

Spread the word

It was a common challenge, this prospect of raising up a new generation, and the people of Israel did it poorly. Joshua had led the nation into God’s promised land, conquering areas as God directed. But time marches on.

Joshua passed on as did the people of his generation. Now settled in a new land, a new generation grew up “who did not know the Lord or the work that he had done for Israel.” (Judges 2:10)

If you’re familiar with the book of Judges at all, you know it overflows with accounts about weird doings: stealth stabbings in the outhouse, clubbing in a woman’s tent, a conqueror brought down by a woman’s rock. Samson is laid low by a haircut and Gideon, after leading a victorious mission against the Midianites, turned to idolatry.

The key to Judges is that “each man did what was right in his own eyes.” Surrounded by nations who were led by kings, Israel opted for a theocracy: God was their king.

Only they quickly forgot. God was no longer king; personal preference was.

But in the words of that famous theologian Bob Dylan, “you gotta serve someone.” We serve God or we serve Satan but we always serve that which we follow.

The lesson in Judges is that people need a king. Left to their own, they fall in the base vulgarities we see at the end of the book of Judges.

Yesterday I mentioned the Josephson Institute survey about our teenagers. Surveys deal with generalities and there are abundant exceptions. But are we so different than the generations in Judges? We worship relativity: each does what is right in his own eyes.

We need a king as surely as did the people named in Judges. There are no perfect parents except God and look what happened to his first children. They rebelled. This is no slam on parents who have wayward children.

But where do we go from here? Choose your king and follow him. Point the way for the next generation and sacrifice to give them a chance to find guidance.

We need more than honesty and character today. We need the absolute of God’s nature. Spread the word.

Enchanted... or not

My favorite childhood movie was Sleeping Beauty. Sitting in the dark movie theatre, I remember being transported (and this was way before Star Trek days) to another world. I bought into the chipmunks and bluebirds who harmonized alongside the beautiful maiden with the voice of a 35-year-old.

There were no weeds or dripping moss in the forest, only a willing owl to dance until the prince wandered onto the scene. The witch was thoroughly evil, the prince pure to his toenails. Tue love’s kiss won out in the end and everyone lived happily ever after.

If you hung on the Disney fantasies, you ought to check out their new movie, Enchanted. Just the park scene, where Giselle enlists a wedding group and construction workers to a song-and-dance, will stir your heart – or your laughter.

But just like Giselle met Robert, who had both feet planted in reality, so I have a 12-year-old son who tagged along to see Enchanted, which is a consummate chick flick. He didn’t get it.

What a shock.

But he did insist on watching Sleeping Beauty, to get some context. Or to get out of some schoolwork. I’m still not sure which.

He wasn’t two minutes into the movie, where the camera pans across the beautiful green kingdom before zooming in on the massive castle, when his commentary began. “Who’d watch this?” he asked. He was especially disgusted with Prince Phillip abandoning his betrothed for a girl he met in the forest. “He doesn’t even know her!” he snorted. Informed that I had first seen this movie at his very age (thinking this would connect somehow), he said, “How old is this movie anyway?”

I keep thinking that his someday wife will appreciate the fact that he’s been around chick flicks and dreamy-eyed women.

We read Ephesians 6 this week, where it tells husbands to be like Christ to their wives, and my son thinks those are better pointers for him than can be found in Sleeping Beauty and Enchanted. Maybe I am making progress?

Family

The family had a car wreck on the day she was born, but we forgave her and moved on. She was a skinny little red baby when I expected a cooing round-cheeked cherub but we moved on.

Later, stealing the football from the middle of a game got her plenty of attention. As the thundering players drew near, she’d fling the ball high in the air. The decision was whether to maul the fleeing thief or retrieve the ball. The ball always won. And we moved on.

We once drew a line down the middle of our room so that her messy side didn’t touch my less-messy side. And one night, we argued over who would turn off the light. We both stubbornly refused to get out of bed but she won: she fell asleep. We moved on.

Once, in the middle of an argument, I said, “You’re silly” and she responded, “Don’t call me names, you big ape!” It’s become one of our rallying cries. We moved on.

I taught her the mystery of f-stops and shutter speeds; now she has far outdistanced me with a camera. Yep, we moved on.

We’re typical sisters: we’ve had our scrapes and tussles but we talk nearly every day. When I want an honest opinion, I ask her. I know that she can be honest because our history is long. Family stands with family. At least, that’s our motto (after “don’t call me names….”).

When I read Paul’s words about our adoption into the family of God, it is meaningful to me.

Now if we are children, then we are heirs--heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

Romans 8:17

Thanks to my sister, I understand something of sharing in suffering and sharing in glory. Our family tussles and forgives. We tease and trust. Nobody can kick us out of the family.

No family is perfect and many are shattered. If our earthly family isn't warm and loving, our heavenly family is. The picture in Romans 8 is of our adoption into God’s family, an image of mercy and forgiveness. We relax in that context.

Today is my sister’s birthday. In celebrating with her, I get to reflect on our place as children of God. We’re all family and it’s pretty special.