I’ve been thinking about competition this week and I should mention that it isn’t the first time I’ve really considered the implications of participating in events in which my success depends on your failure and your success depends on mine.
If you ever read my book How to Smell Like God, you may remember my story of striving for success in high school basketball. To this day I’ve never met anyone who was more competitive than I was in high school: I kept track of every minute I practiced over the summers, averaging more than three hours a day between my freshman and junior years. That means if I missed a day, I would practice six hours the next.
If I missed two days for a family event, I would have to practice five hours a day over the next three days. Also, I slept holding my basketball for four years so that I would be holding it eight hours a day longer than my competitor. It was my life.
I told all of this to a girl I was hoping to date in college and she said, “Steve, let me ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“What was your god in high school?”
That question was one of the steps that led me from being a churchgoer to being a believer in Christ.
After becoming a Christian I realized I’m supposed to seek the good of others, love them, serve them, and seek humility rather than honor (see Matthew 23:6-12).
Since then, I’ve been asking myself a question that I’ve found over the years few other Christians seem to ask themselves when it comes to competitive events, and the more I honestly answer it, the more I’ve changed the way I view competition.
Try asking it of yourself and see where the answer leads. Here it is: How can I love, serve and honor someone above myself whom I am wholeheartedly trying to defeat?
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
You Can't Spell Competition without "Self"
This last week I was speaking at a camp for about 1300 preteens. The students and staff were great, but one aspect of the program really struck me this morning and got me thinking.
The staff had a contest to see which group of children had the most spirit (not the spiritual kind, the excitement kind). As you can imagine the children went wild and the ones who won at the end of the week went crazy.
When they announced the winning group and I saw the excitement of the winners I realized that the best way to motivate people is to appeal to self-promotion.
It isn’t just at camp, and it isn’t just for kids. Every sporting event appeals to self-promotion—you’re trying to win, which means you’re trying to place yourself above another person. Commerce and capitalism appeal to self-promotion—the harder you work the more you benefit at the expense of others (although we typically don’t put it so bluntly). Every time I encourage someone to have me come speak, or to buy one of my books, or to read my blog instead of someone else’s, I’m promoting myself.
In fact, this appeal to self-promotion is so pervasive in our society that we’re like fish who don’t notice that they’re underwater. If you want to get someone to do something, have them compete with someone else.
And then Jesus comes along and tells us that to be great, we need to serve other people's interests instead (see Matthew 20:24-27). And Paul wrote, "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others," (Philippians 2:3-4).
Imagine what our world would look like if we weren’t constantly trying to put ourselves above other people.
I can’t even picture what that would look like.
So here are my two questions: If I’m supposed to follow Paul’s advice and do nothing out of selfish ambition, should I ever compete with others? If I can still compete, how would following his advice change how I do so in the different areas of my life?
The staff had a contest to see which group of children had the most spirit (not the spiritual kind, the excitement kind). As you can imagine the children went wild and the ones who won at the end of the week went crazy.
When they announced the winning group and I saw the excitement of the winners I realized that the best way to motivate people is to appeal to self-promotion.
It isn’t just at camp, and it isn’t just for kids. Every sporting event appeals to self-promotion—you’re trying to win, which means you’re trying to place yourself above another person. Commerce and capitalism appeal to self-promotion—the harder you work the more you benefit at the expense of others (although we typically don’t put it so bluntly). Every time I encourage someone to have me come speak, or to buy one of my books, or to read my blog instead of someone else’s, I’m promoting myself.
In fact, this appeal to self-promotion is so pervasive in our society that we’re like fish who don’t notice that they’re underwater. If you want to get someone to do something, have them compete with someone else.
And then Jesus comes along and tells us that to be great, we need to serve other people's interests instead (see Matthew 20:24-27). And Paul wrote, "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others," (Philippians 2:3-4).
Imagine what our world would look like if we weren’t constantly trying to put ourselves above other people.
I can’t even picture what that would look like.
So here are my two questions: If I’m supposed to follow Paul’s advice and do nothing out of selfish ambition, should I ever compete with others? If I can still compete, how would following his advice change how I do so in the different areas of my life?
Friday, June 13, 2008
Thinking About the Story
Great comments for the last posting. If you haven't read them, scroll through them. See what you think.I added discussion questions for my book Story: Recapture the Mystery in the sidebar on the right. (I realize how lengthy the list is, but it was meant to cover the whole book. Just scroll through the questions, and think about any that catch your eye.) Even if you haven't read the book, I'd love to hear any responses to the questions. Some, I believe, are quite challenging and thought-provoking.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
The Benefits of Author Shopping
More than once I've heard sermons on how we shouldn’t sample different churches, like sampling appetizers, floating from one church to the next, trying to find out what makes us comfortable or what’s good for our personality. In fact I can’t think of a time I’ve ever heard a pastor refer to ‘church shopping’ in a positive light.
I understand the need for a commited community of believers as well as for churches to faithfully teach God’s Word and the mystery of salvation in Christ rather than pandering to public opninon, but I believe sampling different churches can be one of the most helpful things in your spiritual life. Many denominations are ingrown and the members don’t have a broad perspective of the Christian community and the way that their brothers and sisters worship.
Making someone feel guilty or unspiritual for trying different churches on for size would be like asking someone, “Do you still read Steven James’s books?”
“No, they don’t really speak to me anymore. I’m trying out some other authors for awhile.”
“What?! You’re author shopping? But reading’s not supposed to be about you, it’s supposed to be about God!”
“I know, but Steven James’s style doesn’t really connect with me.”
“You don’t go to a book to get something out of it, but to give something into it!”
“But he’s boring. I fall asleep reading him.”
“You're not supposed to go to a book to be entertained, that's not what reading is all about!”
“But really, the only reason I’m reading him is my parents read him to me as a kid. Are you saying once my parents introduce me to one author, I can’t switch?”
“You need to be faithful to your local authors. It shows a lack of commitment when you just start jumping around from one to the other.”
“Oh. I see. Well you know what? Then I think I might just give up reading for a while. If that’s how it’s going to be.”
Thoughts?
I understand the need for a commited community of believers as well as for churches to faithfully teach God’s Word and the mystery of salvation in Christ rather than pandering to public opninon, but I believe sampling different churches can be one of the most helpful things in your spiritual life. Many denominations are ingrown and the members don’t have a broad perspective of the Christian community and the way that their brothers and sisters worship.
Making someone feel guilty or unspiritual for trying different churches on for size would be like asking someone, “Do you still read Steven James’s books?”
“No, they don’t really speak to me anymore. I’m trying out some other authors for awhile.”
“What?! You’re author shopping? But reading’s not supposed to be about you, it’s supposed to be about God!”
“I know, but Steven James’s style doesn’t really connect with me.”
“You don’t go to a book to get something out of it, but to give something into it!”
“But he’s boring. I fall asleep reading him.”
“You're not supposed to go to a book to be entertained, that's not what reading is all about!”
“But really, the only reason I’m reading him is my parents read him to me as a kid. Are you saying once my parents introduce me to one author, I can’t switch?”
“You need to be faithful to your local authors. It shows a lack of commitment when you just start jumping around from one to the other.”
“Oh. I see. Well you know what? Then I think I might just give up reading for a while. If that’s how it’s going to be.”
Thoughts?
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Doubt and Faith
I’ve been thinking about Christianity and belief lately. Here are two thoughts: First, in Romans 10:9 (NIV), Paul wrote, “If you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”
So, God doesn’t say, “If you are happy all the time,” or “If you obey me all the time,” or “If you never have doubts or questions or heartache. . . then you will be saved.” It gives me reassurance to know that even if we have come to God with the wrong motives, or let the right ones slip away, he does not forget us or condemn us for that. He continues to love us and invite us closer to him.
Second, I just watched a very engaging debate between Christian philosopher Alister McGrath and atheist author Christopher Hitchens at Georgetown University. You can watch it
for free online and I think you'll enjoy the issues brought up.
Personally, I was surprised by the presentations the two men made. You can decide for yourself who answers the questions more cogently. It's about an hour and forty minutes long (but you can watch as much or as little as you like). Very much worth the time.
After watching the debate, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
So, God doesn’t say, “If you are happy all the time,” or “If you obey me all the time,” or “If you never have doubts or questions or heartache. . . then you will be saved.” It gives me reassurance to know that even if we have come to God with the wrong motives, or let the right ones slip away, he does not forget us or condemn us for that. He continues to love us and invite us closer to him.
Second, I just watched a very engaging debate between Christian philosopher Alister McGrath and atheist author Christopher Hitchens at Georgetown University. You can watch it
for free online and I think you'll enjoy the issues brought up.Personally, I was surprised by the presentations the two men made. You can decide for yourself who answers the questions more cogently. It's about an hour and forty minutes long (but you can watch as much or as little as you like). Very much worth the time.
After watching the debate, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Groaning to God
Continuing the last post, here are some more thoughts on prayer.
Tell God your secrets. Show him your shame. Shout out his praises. Beg for his presence. Bring him your questions. God cares about the details of your life. Nothing is too big for him to handle, and nothing is too small for him to be concerned about.
Let joy dance on the edge of your heart. And when you need to give voice to your pain, don’t worry if you don’t know the right words to say. Open your heart up to God and his Spirit will do the rest, “And the Holy Spirit helps us in our distress. For we don’t even know what we should pray for, nor how we should pray. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will,” (Romans 8:26-27).
If the Holy Spirit himself groans when he prays, why are we so concerned with sounding articulate and eloquent to God? We don’t need the right words. We just need the right attitude.
Prayer is the process of shedding our lies, our masks, and our inhibitions, and standing in God’s presence as we really are--neither proud nor ashamed, simply accepted and loved and heard.
That’s how Job prayed. That’s how David prayed. That’s how Paul prayed. That’s how Jesus prayed. And that’s how we need to pray.
For then, in the midst of the turmoil, suddenly, taking us by surprise, comes the calm that we longed for. Peace within the storm. Within ourselves. Peace and comfort from the hand of the Spirit. A calmness and stillness that we wouldn’t have noticed unless it was surrounded by the gusts of hardship and sheets of slanted, cleansing rain that we call prayer.
God dwells there. Where all of life is sacred. All of life is worship. And where every moment can be spent dwelling in the center of a prayer.
Tell God your secrets. Show him your shame. Shout out his praises. Beg for his presence. Bring him your questions. God cares about the details of your life. Nothing is too big for him to handle, and nothing is too small for him to be concerned about.
Let joy dance on the edge of your heart. And when you need to give voice to your pain, don’t worry if you don’t know the right words to say. Open your heart up to God and his Spirit will do the rest, “And the Holy Spirit helps us in our distress. For we don’t even know what we should pray for, nor how we should pray. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will,” (Romans 8:26-27).
If the Holy Spirit himself groans when he prays, why are we so concerned with sounding articulate and eloquent to God? We don’t need the right words. We just need the right attitude.
Prayer is the process of shedding our lies, our masks, and our inhibitions, and standing in God’s presence as we really are--neither proud nor ashamed, simply accepted and loved and heard.
That’s how Job prayed. That’s how David prayed. That’s how Paul prayed. That’s how Jesus prayed. And that’s how we need to pray.
For then, in the midst of the turmoil, suddenly, taking us by surprise, comes the calm that we longed for. Peace within the storm. Within ourselves. Peace and comfort from the hand of the Spirit. A calmness and stillness that we wouldn’t have noticed unless it was surrounded by the gusts of hardship and sheets of slanted, cleansing rain that we call prayer.
God dwells there. Where all of life is sacred. All of life is worship. And where every moment can be spent dwelling in the center of a prayer.
Prayers with Teeth
A few weeks ago I pulled out a project I'd shelved for two years. It's a collection of prayers that I'm writing, so I thought I'd spend the next two posts sharing some of my thoughts on prayer.
****
Let’s be done with these tidy, packaged, sacred-sounding speeches once and for all. Real prayers are unvarnished. They’re not soft, cuddly little kittens. They’re more like thunderstorms, windy and ragged.
They flash with insight and rumble with complaints. Wet and soggy sometimes, but opening to rainbows at the end. Real prayers express inspiration and drudgery. Fear and glory. Joy and praise and roaring truth. With God in the middle and all around.
Real prayers are not flimsy and weak, but big and round and bold. They don’t worm their way into heaven, they pound on the door and knock it down. A thousand volumes of dull, timid, pale, lifeless prayers will never move the heart of God like a single sentence exploding from the honest places of your life.
“How could you let this happen!” we scream into the unknown.
“Why, God?” we weep in our loneliness.
“Are you there?” we shout, shaking our fists at heaven. “Are you even listening to me!”
“I failed you, God. I don’t deserve your love,” we mouth, afraid to even speak the words aloud.
“So you are real. And I am so small,” we whisper in a moment of revelation.
“God, show me your mercy,” we beg, “I’m so, so sorry for what I’ve done....”
“God, can I be completely honest with you....”
Those kind of prayers have teeth. And guts. And heart.
Sometimes we throw our hands up in wonder. Other times we weep and pound the table. We’re broken. We’re angry. We’re amazed. We’re lonely. We’re inspired.
And we’re changed. Something happens during the storm. We’re washed clean again, shocked by the cold, but thankful for the reality of being alive in the middle of his love.
You can’t escape the raw experiences of life when you’re standing in the middle of the storm. Real prayers ache with the truth and pour from your heart with anger and agony and awe.
That’s why prayers, true prayers, reveal both God and ourselves. We stand naked and honest before him and become clothed and real. No more masks in the storm. No more gentle, rational excuses piled on top of each other like coats of paint; each trying its best to conceal the wood. Prayers scrape us clean and bare before God, where we can finally rest as calm and unashamed as a child in the arms of her father. In the arms of our Father. Who wipes every tear from our eyes.
****
Let’s be done with these tidy, packaged, sacred-sounding speeches once and for all. Real prayers are unvarnished. They’re not soft, cuddly little kittens. They’re more like thunderstorms, windy and ragged.
They flash with insight and rumble with complaints. Wet and soggy sometimes, but opening to rainbows at the end. Real prayers express inspiration and drudgery. Fear and glory. Joy and praise and roaring truth. With God in the middle and all around.
Real prayers are not flimsy and weak, but big and round and bold. They don’t worm their way into heaven, they pound on the door and knock it down. A thousand volumes of dull, timid, pale, lifeless prayers will never move the heart of God like a single sentence exploding from the honest places of your life.
“How could you let this happen!” we scream into the unknown.
“Why, God?” we weep in our loneliness.
“Are you there?” we shout, shaking our fists at heaven. “Are you even listening to me!”
“I failed you, God. I don’t deserve your love,” we mouth, afraid to even speak the words aloud.
“So you are real. And I am so small,” we whisper in a moment of revelation.
“God, show me your mercy,” we beg, “I’m so, so sorry for what I’ve done....”
“God, can I be completely honest with you....”
Those kind of prayers have teeth. And guts. And heart.
Sometimes we throw our hands up in wonder. Other times we weep and pound the table. We’re broken. We’re angry. We’re amazed. We’re lonely. We’re inspired.
And we’re changed. Something happens during the storm. We’re washed clean again, shocked by the cold, but thankful for the reality of being alive in the middle of his love.
You can’t escape the raw experiences of life when you’re standing in the middle of the storm. Real prayers ache with the truth and pour from your heart with anger and agony and awe.
That’s why prayers, true prayers, reveal both God and ourselves. We stand naked and honest before him and become clothed and real. No more masks in the storm. No more gentle, rational excuses piled on top of each other like coats of paint; each trying its best to conceal the wood. Prayers scrape us clean and bare before God, where we can finally rest as calm and unashamed as a child in the arms of her father. In the arms of our Father. Who wipes every tear from our eyes.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Good News from Christy
Just a quick note I want to share with everyone. Last week we found out The Pawn is one of the three finalists in the suspense category for the Christy awards, which is the top award given out to a novel published by a Christian publishing company.I share this because in our conversations over the last few posts, we’ve been exploring art, faith and writing. I’m encouraged that The Pawn is a finalist, not just because I wrote it, but because it shows me those evaluating the novels are moving away from agenda driven stories that are really sermons in disguise toward books that are written from a Christian worldview that are not necessarily moralistic or didactic.
Check out the list of all the Christy finalists by clicking here.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Dropping Formulaic Prayers
So often when I pray I end up in the "God, I praise you for..." or "God, please help me..." or "God, I'm sorry for..." trap. But then the other day I realized that when I talk to my friends, even though I might compliment them or ask for help or apologize for something, I also do a lot more. In fact, if all I did were those three things, I can't see how our friendship could really grow very deep.
My friends and I talk about what's on our minds. Sometimes we laugh or complain or remember good times together. And sometimes we don't talk at all all, we just hang out.
So, since I want my friendship with God to grow deeper, I've started trying to relate to him in a more balanced way. Rather than getting caught up in my typical formulaic prayers, I've started talking to him about the dreams I have, the stuff that frustrates me, the things I'm struggling with or concerned about and where I'm hurting and what I'm hoping for and what I'm thinking or planning or remembering.
Think about it for a few minutes. Let us know some of the ways you connect with your friends that we could add to the spectrum of ways we communicate with God.
My friends and I talk about what's on our minds. Sometimes we laugh or complain or remember good times together. And sometimes we don't talk at all all, we just hang out.
So, since I want my friendship with God to grow deeper, I've started trying to relate to him in a more balanced way. Rather than getting caught up in my typical formulaic prayers, I've started talking to him about the dreams I have, the stuff that frustrates me, the things I'm struggling with or concerned about and where I'm hurting and what I'm hoping for and what I'm thinking or planning or remembering.
Think about it for a few minutes. Let us know some of the ways you connect with your friends that we could add to the spectrum of ways we communicate with God.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
The Non-Christian Fiction of Jesus
As I've been considering all the great comments people have left over the last few posts on art, story, and spirituality, I started thinking about Jesus. After all, he didn't teach the crowds anything without telling them stories (Mark 4:33-34).
And the stories he told weren’t warm-n-fuzzy, feely-good fairy tales where everyone lived happily ever after (or where everyone got saved). In his stories people got beat up, imprisoned, tortured, killed and even sliced into little pieces. The good guy sometimes lost. Hard work didn’t always pay off.
Some of his stories are downright chilling, haunting even--like the one about the demons who slipped back into a careless person after a successful exorcism, or about the people being left out of the party and trapped in the darkness forever, weeping and gnashing their teeth.
And although his stories carried strong messages, almost none of his stories were overtly religious.
So here's the irony: by today's standards, a good number of Jesus' stories (maybe even the majority of them) wouldn't be considered Christian fiction.
If we need to label a story 'Christian' let's use the term to refer to stories that tell the truth about the world, not just ones that have ' little objectionable content' or 'good family values' (whatever those are).
And the stories he told weren’t warm-n-fuzzy, feely-good fairy tales where everyone lived happily ever after (or where everyone got saved). In his stories people got beat up, imprisoned, tortured, killed and even sliced into little pieces. The good guy sometimes lost. Hard work didn’t always pay off.
Some of his stories are downright chilling, haunting even--like the one about the demons who slipped back into a careless person after a successful exorcism, or about the people being left out of the party and trapped in the darkness forever, weeping and gnashing their teeth.
And although his stories carried strong messages, almost none of his stories were overtly religious.
So here's the irony: by today's standards, a good number of Jesus' stories (maybe even the majority of them) wouldn't be considered Christian fiction.
If we need to label a story 'Christian' let's use the term to refer to stories that tell the truth about the world, not just ones that have ' little objectionable content' or 'good family values' (whatever those are).
Friday, April 25, 2008
The Paradox of Art
All art, by its very nature, comes from some sort of moral grounding, some view about the world. Some novelists write from the perspective that life is ultimatly meaningless, that in the end, our choices don't matter. These are the depressing stories.
And they are partially right.
Other writers come from the perspective that we should pursue our dreams, follow our hearts and shape a new destiny for ourselves. These are the Disney-ending authors.
And they are partially right.
Art that speaks the truth about the world and about the human condition doesn't compromise and land in the middle between despair and puerile optimism, but embraces them both and expands on them.
It's true that life is meaningless--without God. And that should be a truth that is explored in fiction, but it's not the whole truth and so it can be misleading. It is also true that life is glorious and the future holds promise, but only because of God's dreams and the destiny he offers. The way I understand the Christian message, we shouldn't follow our hearts, because they are deceitful. And we shouldn't pursue our dreams, but rather tune in to God's.
And we shouldn't give up hope, because the best is yet to come.
And they are partially right.
Other writers come from the perspective that we should pursue our dreams, follow our hearts and shape a new destiny for ourselves. These are the Disney-ending authors.
And they are partially right.
Art that speaks the truth about the world and about the human condition doesn't compromise and land in the middle between despair and puerile optimism, but embraces them both and expands on them.
It's true that life is meaningless--without God. And that should be a truth that is explored in fiction, but it's not the whole truth and so it can be misleading. It is also true that life is glorious and the future holds promise, but only because of God's dreams and the destiny he offers. The way I understand the Christian message, we shouldn't follow our hearts, because they are deceitful. And we shouldn't pursue our dreams, but rather tune in to God's.
And we shouldn't give up hope, because the best is yet to come.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Agenda-driven novels
Following up on my last post, I thought I’d mention that last week I had a cup of coffee with Paul McCusker and he shared some of the same frustrations that (apparently) most of us do.
He said that in his seminars he'll ask people, “How many of you like agenda-driven fiction? For example, gay and lesbian fiction, or pro-abortion fiction?" (I might add, 'or fiction that slams religion, such as The Golden Compass series?') He said that nearly everyone will reply that they can't stand agenda-driven fiction, and then he’ll say, “That’s how people react when they read so-called ‘Christian fiction.’”
It makes sense to me. I saw a movie a few years ago called The Life of David Gale. The movie was basically anti-death penalty propaganda and, despite some fine acting, I was totally turned off from the movie. (This has nothing to do with my views about the death penalty, only my view about art.)
So here’s my question: What novels have you read (or movies have you seen) that have approached sensitive topics honestly and well; what agenda-driven novels (or movies) would you like to unrecommend for the rest of us?
He said that in his seminars he'll ask people, “How many of you like agenda-driven fiction? For example, gay and lesbian fiction, or pro-abortion fiction?" (I might add, 'or fiction that slams religion, such as The Golden Compass series?') He said that nearly everyone will reply that they can't stand agenda-driven fiction, and then he’ll say, “That’s how people react when they read so-called ‘Christian fiction.’”
It makes sense to me. I saw a movie a few years ago called The Life of David Gale. The movie was basically anti-death penalty propaganda and, despite some fine acting, I was totally turned off from the movie. (This has nothing to do with my views about the death penalty, only my view about art.)
So here’s my question: What novels have you read (or movies have you seen) that have approached sensitive topics honestly and well; what agenda-driven novels (or movies) would you like to unrecommend for the rest of us?
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Excusing Mediocrity
First of all, thanks for all the great comments over the last few postings. I’m so impressed by the depth of insight and the lively discussions.
Last week I spoke at a scriptwriting conference in North Carolina and then at a writer’s conference in Delaware so I’ve had writing on my brain. Both events were for Christian writers and at both of them I made a comment that several of my writer friends took offense at. Here it is, I’ll be interested to read your responses:
“How many times have you talked to people and they say, ‘I don’t read to so many Christian novels, or novels by Christian publishers; mostly I just read ones by secular publishers.” And when you ask them why they’ll say, ‘Well, the Christian ones aren’t that well written. They’re like sermons in disguise.’”
Then I said, “It’s our job to change that around so that people say they prefer the novels by Christian publishers and when you ask them why they say, “Well, it’s obvious. They’re just so much better written.”
All too often Christians excuse mediocre art by explaining that it’s Christian. I think we should be producing art that reflects the excellence of the Creator, not agenda-driven writing that causes us to be marginalized.
Last week I spoke at a scriptwriting conference in North Carolina and then at a writer’s conference in Delaware so I’ve had writing on my brain. Both events were for Christian writers and at both of them I made a comment that several of my writer friends took offense at. Here it is, I’ll be interested to read your responses:
“How many times have you talked to people and they say, ‘I don’t read to so many Christian novels, or novels by Christian publishers; mostly I just read ones by secular publishers.” And when you ask them why they’ll say, ‘Well, the Christian ones aren’t that well written. They’re like sermons in disguise.’”
Then I said, “It’s our job to change that around so that people say they prefer the novels by Christian publishers and when you ask them why they say, “Well, it’s obvious. They’re just so much better written.”
All too often Christians excuse mediocre art by explaining that it’s Christian. I think we should be producing art that reflects the excellence of the Creator, not agenda-driven writing that causes us to be marginalized.
Monday, April 07, 2008
A Brief Conversation
"The idea that God is everywhere, all the time, is either the most comforting or the most unsettling teaching of all."
"So, let me guess: the only difference is whether or not he's on your side."
"No. He's already on your side. The only difference is whether or not you're on his."
"So, let me guess: the only difference is whether or not he's on your side."
"No. He's already on your side. The only difference is whether or not you're on his."
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Finding Your Place in the Story
Well, last week I took a break from blogging to go rock climbing and to rehearse my part in our church's rather unique Easter presentation last weekend. To say it’s not your typical Easter service would be an understatement. The service was based on my book Story: Recapture the Mystery, and I hope you’ll check it out and let me know what you think. Click here to watch.P.S. I appear twice. Once in a role that suits me well, another in a role I was assigned when I missed one of the rehearsals. (Isn't that the way it always goes?) See if you can find me both times...
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Building the Church
In light of all the thoughtful comments from the last two posts, I thought I’d stir up the pot a little more.
Many churches raise money for building campaigns; the church I attend is doing so right now. And I’m conflicted, because, while I understand the need to minister to the growing needs of a congregation, I’m not convinced church buildings are the way to do that. After all, there’s no command in the New Testament to build a church.
I'm not interested in bashing any pastor, but I remember watching a TV special when Lakewood Church opened and Pastor Joel Osteen announced that they had just spent $90 million renovating the arena (I think it’s the Houston Astrodome) for their weekly services. As I watched, I remember thinking, What would it be like to have a building campaign to do something Jesus actually told us to do, like raising $90 million to care for the poor, or serve the homeless, or minister to those in prison, or clothe the needy, or help to the sick, rather than renovate an arena so that you can worship more comfortably? What would that be like?
Imagine that.
A church holding a development campaign to do something Jesus actually asked us to do. Imagine a church raising $90 million to feed the poor instead of carpeting the aisles and buying more video cameras.
How does that sound?
Many churches raise money for building campaigns; the church I attend is doing so right now. And I’m conflicted, because, while I understand the need to minister to the growing needs of a congregation, I’m not convinced church buildings are the way to do that. After all, there’s no command in the New Testament to build a church.
I'm not interested in bashing any pastor, but I remember watching a TV special when Lakewood Church opened and Pastor Joel Osteen announced that they had just spent $90 million renovating the arena (I think it’s the Houston Astrodome) for their weekly services. As I watched, I remember thinking, What would it be like to have a building campaign to do something Jesus actually told us to do, like raising $90 million to care for the poor, or serve the homeless, or minister to those in prison, or clothe the needy, or help to the sick, rather than renovate an arena so that you can worship more comfortably? What would that be like?
Imagine that.
A church holding a development campaign to do something Jesus actually asked us to do. Imagine a church raising $90 million to feed the poor instead of carpeting the aisles and buying more video cameras.
How does that sound?
Monday, March 10, 2008
Countering Culture
The comments from the last post got me thinking about the question that's been gnawing away at me for the last couple years. Here it is: What does a follower of Jesus look like in an affluent society?
Here's what I'm getting at:
• I’m becoming convinced that Christianity is not what it appears to be in mainstream America. We don’t make choices that resemble those of believers throughout the world or in the early Christian church. We look and live pretty much just like the rest of society. Why? What have we lost? How can we regain a true passion for knowing and following God?
• Most people (including Christians) in American society spend their lives working in a job they don’t like, for a boss they don’t respect, with people they don’t get along with, to earn money to buy stuff that they don’t even need. And if they do this long enough we call them a success. Self-indulgence, materialism, greed are giant blind spots in American Christianity. How can we reshape our attitudes and lives, in the midst of a materialistic and consumer-driven culture, to reflect the beauty, truth, modesty, wonder and glory of living as children of the King?
Thoughts?
Here's what I'm getting at:
• I’m becoming convinced that Christianity is not what it appears to be in mainstream America. We don’t make choices that resemble those of believers throughout the world or in the early Christian church. We look and live pretty much just like the rest of society. Why? What have we lost? How can we regain a true passion for knowing and following God?
• Most people (including Christians) in American society spend their lives working in a job they don’t like, for a boss they don’t respect, with people they don’t get along with, to earn money to buy stuff that they don’t even need. And if they do this long enough we call them a success. Self-indulgence, materialism, greed are giant blind spots in American Christianity. How can we reshape our attitudes and lives, in the midst of a materialistic and consumer-driven culture, to reflect the beauty, truth, modesty, wonder and glory of living as children of the King?
Thoughts?
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Secrets to Modern Ministry
OK, I admit I'm feeling a little cynical today, but here goes. Let me know if you think I went a little too far.
To encourage people to give to your church, be sure to put their names on a plaque, or a chair, or a brick in the new building. Forget what Jesus taught in Matthew 6:3-4 when he said, “But when you give to someone in need, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. Give your gifts in private, and your Father, who sees everything, will reward you.” He didn’t really mean that. He really meant: Make sure you get your name on a shiny little gold plate on a wall or a brick so people can feel good about your philanthropy.
Always, always have little blanks to fill in on your church bulletins. Don’t worry, adults won’t feel insulted to have you read them the answers. They enjoyed it in second grade and they'll enjoy it now. Besides, they aren’t really smart enough to come up with their own way of taking notes so it’s much better if you spoon-feed them the answers.
To encourage people to give to your church, be sure to put their names on a plaque, or a chair, or a brick in the new building. Forget what Jesus taught in Matthew 6:3-4 when he said, “But when you give to someone in need, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. Give your gifts in private, and your Father, who sees everything, will reward you.” He didn’t really mean that. He really meant: Make sure you get your name on a shiny little gold plate on a wall or a brick so people can feel good about your philanthropy.
Always, always have little blanks to fill in on your church bulletins. Don’t worry, adults won’t feel insulted to have you read them the answers. They enjoyed it in second grade and they'll enjoy it now. Besides, they aren’t really smart enough to come up with their own way of taking notes so it’s much better if you spoon-feed them the answers.
Monday, February 25, 2008
The Discourse of Comfort
Comfort spoke to me.
“I'm a gentle goddess,” she said. “I would never ask to control you, but want only to set you free. Isn't that what you want? What all men want? The end of the struggle and the beginning of ease?"
And I had to agree with her. Most of my dreams and my plans and my choices were rooted in the idea of and desire for more comfort.
“I'm not like the other gods,” she said. “I'm not like the gods of anger or justice or mercy or jealousy. I make no demands of you. I'm here to meet your needs and fulfill your dreams, not to ask you to fulfill mine. I require no service of you. No worship. No fire. I serve you, instead."
The words of Comfort stirred me and moved me toward myself with their enticements.
“I'm an easy goddess to honor. Some gods try to wake you up with conviction or conversion or contrition, but I’m most satisfied when you’re asleep in my arms. When you make your choices, don’t ask yourself what I might desire, but only what you would desire of me. For I give you my all. And I’m here to meet all your desires, not just your needs.”
Comfort reached her hand to me and I took it. For she was lovely to behold and her smile encircled my heart. We moved toward each other in a lover’s embrace.
“Lean on me. Come to me. Set down your cross and take my hand. My road is easy and the path is smooth and every step is more relief from the harsh load of other gods."
She led me to her chambers.
“Throw away your yokes, for I seek to remove them one and all. And in your dreams, don't think of other worlds, but of this one. You deserve all that this moment can offer, all that I can give. I'll shield you from suffering, close you off from pain, and protect you from any cruel thoughts of grief or death.”
I smelled her perfume as she leaned her body against mine. Then Comfort guided me toward her bed. And our lips met and I found in her kisses, the soothing and unhurried promises of ease.
“I'm a pillow for your head and shoes for your feet and gloves for your hands. I protect you and soothe you as you move from one moment to the next. I whisper to you; hear my voice! I'm the goddess of today and the moments within it. And I gently cradle all my children, singing them to sleep in my arms.”
And that’s when I saw the chains hanging from her wrists and the shackles hidden in her bed.
So I ran from her. I fled from her and limped away from her side. And since that night I’ve been careful not to return to her arms.
Yet, my heart is still beating with desire. And her perfume still lingers on my lips.
“I'm a gentle goddess,” she said. “I would never ask to control you, but want only to set you free. Isn't that what you want? What all men want? The end of the struggle and the beginning of ease?"
And I had to agree with her. Most of my dreams and my plans and my choices were rooted in the idea of and desire for more comfort.
“I'm not like the other gods,” she said. “I'm not like the gods of anger or justice or mercy or jealousy. I make no demands of you. I'm here to meet your needs and fulfill your dreams, not to ask you to fulfill mine. I require no service of you. No worship. No fire. I serve you, instead."
The words of Comfort stirred me and moved me toward myself with their enticements.
“I'm an easy goddess to honor. Some gods try to wake you up with conviction or conversion or contrition, but I’m most satisfied when you’re asleep in my arms. When you make your choices, don’t ask yourself what I might desire, but only what you would desire of me. For I give you my all. And I’m here to meet all your desires, not just your needs.”
Comfort reached her hand to me and I took it. For she was lovely to behold and her smile encircled my heart. We moved toward each other in a lover’s embrace.
“Lean on me. Come to me. Set down your cross and take my hand. My road is easy and the path is smooth and every step is more relief from the harsh load of other gods."
She led me to her chambers.
“Throw away your yokes, for I seek to remove them one and all. And in your dreams, don't think of other worlds, but of this one. You deserve all that this moment can offer, all that I can give. I'll shield you from suffering, close you off from pain, and protect you from any cruel thoughts of grief or death.”
I smelled her perfume as she leaned her body against mine. Then Comfort guided me toward her bed. And our lips met and I found in her kisses, the soothing and unhurried promises of ease.
“I'm a pillow for your head and shoes for your feet and gloves for your hands. I protect you and soothe you as you move from one moment to the next. I whisper to you; hear my voice! I'm the goddess of today and the moments within it. And I gently cradle all my children, singing them to sleep in my arms.”
And that’s when I saw the chains hanging from her wrists and the shackles hidden in her bed.
So I ran from her. I fled from her and limped away from her side. And since that night I’ve been careful not to return to her arms.
Yet, my heart is still beating with desire. And her perfume still lingers on my lips.
Friday, February 22, 2008
The Spirit of Nature
While I was reading the Bible this morning I noticed Psalm 104. The anonymous author spends most of the first half of his poem talking about the wonders of the earth and the interplay of all creation--from the creation of our planet, to the seas and the mountains, to the birds and grass and cattle and plants that produce olive oil, bread and wine (that he mentions, to all my teetotaling friends, “gladdens the heart of man”). Then he highlights the moon and the sun and the game of tag between day and night.
In verse 24 he writes: “How many are your works, O Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.” He mentions that the creatures look to God for their food, and need God’s provision to survive. But what struck me most was verse 30: “When you send your Spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the earth.”
God didn’t just spend six days creating the earth and all that lives on it.
He spends every day doing it.
That got me thinking about the whole concept of “nature” and “the natural world.” How natural is it, if God’s Spirit is what gives life to all things?
I decided to look up the word “nature” and found out that it comes from a French word nature in the 1300s that means “creative power in the material world,” which comes from the Latin word natura which literally means “birth” or, the verb form, “to give birth.”
Whoa.
So I guess I do believe there’s such a thing as nature. And it’s evidenced by the touching of God’s life-giving Spirit on every leaf that buds, every bird that hatches, every newborn animal and planet that awakens to the light of day.
In verse 24 he writes: “How many are your works, O Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.” He mentions that the creatures look to God for their food, and need God’s provision to survive. But what struck me most was verse 30: “When you send your Spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the earth.”
God didn’t just spend six days creating the earth and all that lives on it.
He spends every day doing it.
That got me thinking about the whole concept of “nature” and “the natural world.” How natural is it, if God’s Spirit is what gives life to all things?
I decided to look up the word “nature” and found out that it comes from a French word nature in the 1300s that means “creative power in the material world,” which comes from the Latin word natura which literally means “birth” or, the verb form, “to give birth.”
Whoa.
So I guess I do believe there’s such a thing as nature. And it’s evidenced by the touching of God’s life-giving Spirit on every leaf that buds, every bird that hatches, every newborn animal and planet that awakens to the light of day.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Becoming a Calf Again
So recently I was going through a rough time and I was praying to God, whining like we sometimes do, telling him, “Oh, God! People tell me I have to sacrifice for you, people tell me I have to give up something in this situation, but the only thing that keeps coming to mind is my happiness. Do you really want me to give up my happiness?”
Now, I should mention that God doesn’t normally speak to me--at least not like someone on a loudspeaker at a baseball stadium, but sometimes I do hear his voice whispering to me, telling me things I would never have thought of on my own. Jesus said that his sheep hear his voice, and this was one of those times when the Shepherd spoke, because when I said, “Do you really want me to give up my happiness?” God said to me, “Are you willing to give up your unhappiness?”
So I decided to try again, “But God, sometimes it feels like disappointment is the default setting for my life!”
And he said to me, “Would you be willing to let it be joy?”
Why does he have to do that to me.
I haven’t heard much from God since praying those things, probably because he’s still waiting for my answer. Am I willing to let go of unhappiness and disappointment, and simply accept the gift of joy?
Well, sometimes yes. Sometimes no.
When I was considering all this one day, I stumbled across a Bible verse tucked in the corners of the Old Testament: “But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings. And you will go out and leap like calves released from the stall,” (Malachi 4:2 NIV).
A rising sun with healing wings. Freedom. And a wide open pasture. That’s what I need more of.
So lately I’ve been praying that God will help me to stop letting my failures make me feel guilty, and just let my weaknesses make me humble. I’m praying that he’ll help me focus not on the times I’ve let him down, but on the ways he has lifted me up. To default to his promises rather than my circumstances.
To give up my unhappiness.
To let joy back in.
And to run in the open-gated fields of his love once again.
Now, I should mention that God doesn’t normally speak to me--at least not like someone on a loudspeaker at a baseball stadium, but sometimes I do hear his voice whispering to me, telling me things I would never have thought of on my own. Jesus said that his sheep hear his voice, and this was one of those times when the Shepherd spoke, because when I said, “Do you really want me to give up my happiness?” God said to me, “Are you willing to give up your unhappiness?”
So I decided to try again, “But God, sometimes it feels like disappointment is the default setting for my life!”
And he said to me, “Would you be willing to let it be joy?”
Why does he have to do that to me.
I haven’t heard much from God since praying those things, probably because he’s still waiting for my answer. Am I willing to let go of unhappiness and disappointment, and simply accept the gift of joy?
Well, sometimes yes. Sometimes no.
When I was considering all this one day, I stumbled across a Bible verse tucked in the corners of the Old Testament: “But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings. And you will go out and leap like calves released from the stall,” (Malachi 4:2 NIV).
A rising sun with healing wings. Freedom. And a wide open pasture. That’s what I need more of.
So lately I’ve been praying that God will help me to stop letting my failures make me feel guilty, and just let my weaknesses make me humble. I’m praying that he’ll help me focus not on the times I’ve let him down, but on the ways he has lifted me up. To default to his promises rather than my circumstances.
To give up my unhappiness.
To let joy back in.
And to run in the open-gated fields of his love once again.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
The Riddle of Temptation
“Oh, wise Teacher!” called the students. “Speak to us of Temptation!”
“What do you know of it already?” he asked.
“I know it’s like an avalanche,” said one of the students. “Starting with only a small snowflake and burying the person in cold death.”
“Some temptation,” said the Teacher. “But not all.”
“Then it’s a piece of driftwood caught in a current. And the driftwood doesn’t notice it’s moving at all until it has been carried far downstream,” said another student.
“Yes, that is true of some temptation. But only of some.”
“But what of all temptation?” they cried.
“All temptation looks as the rose, with promises sweet and fragrant, and they are beautiful to touch, but once plucked, the thorns on the stem wound the picker of the rose. Yet every day, the person returns to pick another rose, and is wounded once again by its thorns.”
“But why would the picker not stop picking roses?” asked the students.
“Because the rose remains beautiful, even through the pain,” said the Teacher.
“What do you know of it already?” he asked.
“I know it’s like an avalanche,” said one of the students. “Starting with only a small snowflake and burying the person in cold death.”
“Some temptation,” said the Teacher. “But not all.”
“Then it’s a piece of driftwood caught in a current. And the driftwood doesn’t notice it’s moving at all until it has been carried far downstream,” said another student.
“Yes, that is true of some temptation. But only of some.”
“But what of all temptation?” they cried.
“All temptation looks as the rose, with promises sweet and fragrant, and they are beautiful to touch, but once plucked, the thorns on the stem wound the picker of the rose. Yet every day, the person returns to pick another rose, and is wounded once again by its thorns.”
“But why would the picker not stop picking roses?” asked the students.
“Because the rose remains beautiful, even through the pain,” said the Teacher.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Tuning the Instrument
Often in my writing seminars I'll talk about how the imagination is the instrument of the writer. And how, the more we hone and enhance our ability to think clearly, to visit worlds that only we can see, to make the jump from the visible to the invisible, we are tuning the instrument.
There's an old story about an archer who was giving a monk a hard time because he would take so many breaks walking in the mountains. "Sir," said the Monk, "please pull back your bow." The archer did and the monk told him to hold it... hold it... hold it... until the archer said at last, "But if I leave tension in my bow all the time, it will break."
"Precisely," said the Monk.
Sometimes the best way to grow a mature imagination is to give one part of your brain a break while you engage another. So the next time you take the afternoon off to watch a movie and someone gives you a hard time just tell them, "Hey, I'm just tuning the instrument, baby. Just tuning the instrument.
Now, time to get back to watching Babel, the movie I paused ten minutes ago so I could write this.
See? It works.
There's an old story about an archer who was giving a monk a hard time because he would take so many breaks walking in the mountains. "Sir," said the Monk, "please pull back your bow." The archer did and the monk told him to hold it... hold it... hold it... until the archer said at last, "But if I leave tension in my bow all the time, it will break."
"Precisely," said the Monk.
Sometimes the best way to grow a mature imagination is to give one part of your brain a break while you engage another. So the next time you take the afternoon off to watch a movie and someone gives you a hard time just tell them, "Hey, I'm just tuning the instrument, baby. Just tuning the instrument.
Now, time to get back to watching Babel, the movie I paused ten minutes ago so I could write this.
See? It works.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Sleeping Beauty
It wasn’t until my daughter became a teenager that I realized “Sleeping Beauty” is not a fairy tale. The princess didn’t sleep for a hundred years because of a curse, it’s just that her alarm clock didn’t go off.Today I was tempted to see if my daughter could break her record, but then I realized I’d miss all the wonderful joys of watching her grow up, get married, have kids of her own, and then try to get them up at 6:30 a.m. for school.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Painted Veil
Last night I watched The Painted Veil (2006, starring Naomi Watts and Edward Norton). Wow. It's a stunning film. The story, based on a novel by W. Somerset Maugham, takes place during a cholera epidemic in 1925 China, but it’s a timeless story and, with the outbreak of infectious disease angle, the film feels remarkably current. The cinematography and acting are superb and apart from some clunky editing the movie is altogether brilliant.But what makes the film so striking to me is its honesty about life. The characters are flawed but real, multi-dimensional and struggling with misconceptions about others, a deep need to love and be loved, and a quiet urge to live a life that matters.
Watch this movie but don’t study it. Let it draw you in and wrap you up in its moments--both the painful ones and the redemptive ones. It does all that we could ask of a film: it entertains us as it reveals to us what being human really means.
Monday, February 11, 2008
The Road to Siloam
So, I heard them talking.
I heard what they were saying and I’m wondering if maybe it’s true. It might be--that I’m this way because God is punishing me. Either for something my parents did or something I did. Or was going to do.
Or something I’m doing right now.
So maybe they’re right.
But he told them no, that a bigger reason was at work, and I wondered if his hint was a riddle or a promise. Then he touched me. With mud on my eyes and strong words in my ears, “Go to the Pool of Siloam,” he said. “And wash.”
And so I left him. In the darkness I’ve always known, I left him. And now I’m on the road wondering why.
The people around me, the ones I’ve been asking for directions, they tell me I’m close. The pool is just up ahead.
I took the first few steps full of raw excitement. I really hoped he could do something for me no one else could ever do, but eventually, with more steps came more doubt. Maybe this was all just another joke that those with eyes to see were playing on me. All a game to mock the man born blind.
So why am I still walking? I’m not sure. The trip has become something of an obligation. A way of going through the motions so that those who heard his words won’t ask me, “So why didn’t you go all the way? You never know. He might have actually opened your eyes.”
I can hear the splashing water. The pool is just ahead.
Something will happen when I wash my eyes. Either my infant hope will die forever, or a new kind of life will be born.
They tell me I’ve arrived. The pool is at my feet.
I bend down.
I’m not proud of the trip, my doubts, my weak efforts to hold onto the faith I first had in his words. But now I’m here.
My fingers tremble as I reach forward and feel the cool water swirling, swirling right in front of me.
Either simple water. Or a mystery as deep as my past. All I need to do is wash. That’s what he told me to do.
I don’t know what’ll happen.
As I lean forward I feel a flicker of fear that I’ve made the journey for nothing.
And so now, my hope and doubt mix together into a fumbling prayer as I dip my hands into the water.
And lift them to my face.
(See John 9:1-7)
I heard what they were saying and I’m wondering if maybe it’s true. It might be--that I’m this way because God is punishing me. Either for something my parents did or something I did. Or was going to do.
Or something I’m doing right now.
So maybe they’re right.
But he told them no, that a bigger reason was at work, and I wondered if his hint was a riddle or a promise. Then he touched me. With mud on my eyes and strong words in my ears, “Go to the Pool of Siloam,” he said. “And wash.”
And so I left him. In the darkness I’ve always known, I left him. And now I’m on the road wondering why.
The people around me, the ones I’ve been asking for directions, they tell me I’m close. The pool is just up ahead.
I took the first few steps full of raw excitement. I really hoped he could do something for me no one else could ever do, but eventually, with more steps came more doubt. Maybe this was all just another joke that those with eyes to see were playing on me. All a game to mock the man born blind.
So why am I still walking? I’m not sure. The trip has become something of an obligation. A way of going through the motions so that those who heard his words won’t ask me, “So why didn’t you go all the way? You never know. He might have actually opened your eyes.”
I can hear the splashing water. The pool is just ahead.
Something will happen when I wash my eyes. Either my infant hope will die forever, or a new kind of life will be born.
They tell me I’ve arrived. The pool is at my feet.
I bend down.
I’m not proud of the trip, my doubts, my weak efforts to hold onto the faith I first had in his words. But now I’m here.
My fingers tremble as I reach forward and feel the cool water swirling, swirling right in front of me.
Either simple water. Or a mystery as deep as my past. All I need to do is wash. That’s what he told me to do.
I don’t know what’ll happen.
As I lean forward I feel a flicker of fear that I’ve made the journey for nothing.
And so now, my hope and doubt mix together into a fumbling prayer as I dip my hands into the water.
And lift them to my face.
(See John 9:1-7)
Friday, February 08, 2008
Believing the Things We Know
Recently, as part of a grant application, I had to write my artistic statement for my art form--fiction. For what it's worth, here are a few excerpts...
We don’t seem to believe the things we know.
We know that we’re not promised a thousand tomorrows, that eternity lies only a heartbeat away, that love is worth the risk and worth the pain, that relationships are more important than paychecks, that every moment matters… We know these things, but only the prophets and poets and mystics seem to live as if they believe them. The rest of us tend to need constant reminding. And therein lies the calling and role of the arts.
*****
The arts capture the essence of the world, the truths of human nature, and allow viewers, or readers, to enter that moment, that elusive moment, when truth finally touches time; when revelation finally occurs. The arts open our eyes to the world we so often miss--the world of truth lying hidden under the daily barrage of facts.
When we “suspend our disbelief” during a fictional story, whether performed theatrically by actors or linguistically by words, we actually open ourselves up to finally stop suspending our disbelief in reality and to begin--if only for a moment--to finally believe the truths we already know. So in a sense art, in my case writing, uses a pretend world to help readers see the real one more clearly.
Authors of fiction are engaged in the work not of telling facts, but of speaking the truth--the truth about life, about human nature, about the role that we each play in shaping the way the world is and the way the future will look. Fiction that matters is fiction that honestly explores the paradoxes of the human spirit, the human condition and the questions that influence our lives and our destinies.
I believe that passion and truth are the two clarion attributes of great fiction--passion that embraces the wounds and dreams of life, and truth that guides us toward experiencing them more fully. I’ve found that it takes unsettling courage to write stories that bite deeply into my soul, but these are the only ones that ultimately satisfy me because I know that I’m doing more than simply entertaining readers. I’m touching their hearts through their eyeballs.
We don’t seem to believe the things we know.
We know that we’re not promised a thousand tomorrows, that eternity lies only a heartbeat away, that love is worth the risk and worth the pain, that relationships are more important than paychecks, that every moment matters… We know these things, but only the prophets and poets and mystics seem to live as if they believe them. The rest of us tend to need constant reminding. And therein lies the calling and role of the arts.
*****
The arts capture the essence of the world, the truths of human nature, and allow viewers, or readers, to enter that moment, that elusive moment, when truth finally touches time; when revelation finally occurs. The arts open our eyes to the world we so often miss--the world of truth lying hidden under the daily barrage of facts.
When we “suspend our disbelief” during a fictional story, whether performed theatrically by actors or linguistically by words, we actually open ourselves up to finally stop suspending our disbelief in reality and to begin--if only for a moment--to finally believe the truths we already know. So in a sense art, in my case writing, uses a pretend world to help readers see the real one more clearly.
Authors of fiction are engaged in the work not of telling facts, but of speaking the truth--the truth about life, about human nature, about the role that we each play in shaping the way the world is and the way the future will look. Fiction that matters is fiction that honestly explores the paradoxes of the human spirit, the human condition and the questions that influence our lives and our destinies.
I believe that passion and truth are the two clarion attributes of great fiction--passion that embraces the wounds and dreams of life, and truth that guides us toward experiencing them more fully. I’ve found that it takes unsettling courage to write stories that bite deeply into my soul, but these are the only ones that ultimately satisfy me because I know that I’m doing more than simply entertaining readers. I’m touching their hearts through their eyeballs.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
The T and the Y
Lately I've been reminded once again of how easy it is to slip into the trap of image-management. Of trying to get other people to like me, to respect me, to think about me.
But here's what struck me the other day—and yes, I do believe God told it to me, partly because I would never have thought of it on my own, partly because I believe he does speak to us. Anyway, here's the thought, "From now on Steve, delete the t and the y."
So, instead of thinking, "What will they think about me?" or "What will they say about me?" My goal is to delete the t and the y and instead, think about the thing that matters so much more than public opinion in the eyes of Jesus.
I’ve realized I’ve got a lot of deleting to do.
It’s hard, but it sure is freeing when I actually manage to do it.
But here's what struck me the other day—and yes, I do believe God told it to me, partly because I would never have thought of it on my own, partly because I believe he does speak to us. Anyway, here's the thought, "From now on Steve, delete the t and the y."
So, instead of thinking, "What will they think about me?" or "What will they say about me?" My goal is to delete the t and the y and instead, think about the thing that matters so much more than public opinion in the eyes of Jesus.
I’ve realized I’ve got a lot of deleting to do.
It’s hard, but it sure is freeing when I actually manage to do it.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
The Pawn Makes a Move
Just a quick note to share some good news. My latest book, The Pawn, just hit #10 on the CBA fiction bestsellers list. Here's the February bestsellers list for fiction:- (10) Between Sundays Karen Kingsbury, Zondervan, c, 0310257727
- (14) Sabrina Lori Wick, Harvest House, p, 0736920781
- (16) Home to Holly Springs Jan Karon, Putnam Adult (Penguin), c, 0670018252
- (26) The Parting Beverly Lewis, Bethany House (Baker), p, 076420310X
- (36) Just Beyond the Clouds Karen Kingsbury, Center Street (Hachette), p, 1599956772
- (45) Cassidy Lori Wick, Harvest House, p, 0736916180
- (48) Summer Karen Kingsbury, Tyndale, p, 084238748X
- Redeeming Love Francine Rivers, Multnomah (WaterBrook), p, 1590525132
- Skin Ted Dekker, Thomas Nelson, c, 1595542779
- The Pawn Steven James, Revell (Baker), p, 0800732405
- On Her Own Wanda Brunstetter, Barbour, p, 9781597896108
- Marks Story Tim LaHaye, Putnam Adult (Penguin), c, 0399154477
- The Christmas Promise Donna VanLiere, Thomas Nelson, c, 1595543325
- The Screwtape Letters C.S. Lewis, HarperCollins/Zondervan, p, 0060652934
- Sunrise Karen Kingsbury, Tyndale, p, 0842387471
- Blink of an Eye Ted Dekker, Thomas Nelson, c, 1595542876
- The Penny Joyce Meyer & Deborah Bedford, FaithWords (Hachette), c, 0446578118
- Redeeming Love Francine Rivers, Multnomah (WaterBrook), c, 1601420617
- Daughters Inheritance Tracie Peterson, Bethany House (Baker), p, 0764203649
- Going Home Wanda Brunstetter, Barbour, p, 9781597896092
If you haven't picked up a copy yet, you can get a signed one off my website, or a cheap used one on Amazon. Also, check out the video trailer if you haven't seen it.
Tomorrow I'll try to have something more profound to share, but I was excited by the news and figured why not let my friends and readers know?
More soon.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
The Song Around Me
This morning I was reading through Psalm 32 and I noticed that verse 7 says (about God), "You are my hiding place; will protect me from trouble, and surround me with songs of deliverance." A few verses later it says that his unfailing love "surrounds the man who trusts in him."
God sings around me. He surrounds me with love.
Today I'm going to remember that whatever else surrounds me--stress, frustrations, computer problems, car trouble, bad weather, bad breath and barking dogs, that I'm surrounded by something more powerful. Unfailing love.
And I'm going to listen today too. Maybe I'll hear snatches of the song. A few notes that will teach my heart a new kind of harmony.
And who knows. Maybe others will begin to hear it too.
(Click here for more info about the cool image above)
God sings around me. He surrounds me with love.
Today I'm going to remember that whatever else surrounds me--stress, frustrations, computer problems, car trouble, bad weather, bad breath and barking dogs, that I'm surrounded by something more powerful. Unfailing love.
And I'm going to listen today too. Maybe I'll hear snatches of the song. A few notes that will teach my heart a new kind of harmony.
And who knows. Maybe others will begin to hear it too.
(Click here for more info about the cool image above)
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Peace on Fire
I’ve been thinking about the paradox of Jesus for the last couple weeks.
Here is a man of both sorrow and joy, of both peace and anger. And I think that the more we become like him, the more we’ll be filled with those things as well.
And while some people believe that when you start to follow Jesus you get to have joy and peace all the time (Galatians 5:22 says that the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control), not even Jesus experienced happiness and serenity all the time.
Mark 14:33-34 says that when he entered the Garden of Gethsemani, he was “deeply troubled and distressed” and “crushed with grief to the point of death.” That’s not exactly a picture of pure happiness and tranquility. And when he made a whip and drove the loan sharks and swindlers out of the temple area, he wasn’t exhibiting the epitome of gentleness.
And yet, he was always filled with the Spirit. Always.
Jesus was closer to his Father in heaven than anyone else who ever lived. So, I think the closer we get to God, the more we’ll experience life and then process those experiences the way Jesus did. We’ll have more joy than ever before, but also more sorrow--joy because of what God has done, but also sorrow at the things that break the heart of God. We’ll have more serenity and more anger--serenity because of God’s forgiveness, but also anger at the things that enraged Jesus.
The more we grow in faith, the further we enter the fiery paradox of Jesus’s peace.
Here is a man of both sorrow and joy, of both peace and anger. And I think that the more we become like him, the more we’ll be filled with those things as well.
And while some people believe that when you start to follow Jesus you get to have joy and peace all the time (Galatians 5:22 says that the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control), not even Jesus experienced happiness and serenity all the time.
Mark 14:33-34 says that when he entered the Garden of Gethsemani, he was “deeply troubled and distressed” and “crushed with grief to the point of death.” That’s not exactly a picture of pure happiness and tranquility. And when he made a whip and drove the loan sharks and swindlers out of the temple area, he wasn’t exhibiting the epitome of gentleness.
And yet, he was always filled with the Spirit. Always.
Jesus was closer to his Father in heaven than anyone else who ever lived. So, I think the closer we get to God, the more we’ll experience life and then process those experiences the way Jesus did. We’ll have more joy than ever before, but also more sorrow--joy because of what God has done, but also sorrow at the things that break the heart of God. We’ll have more serenity and more anger--serenity because of God’s forgiveness, but also anger at the things that enraged Jesus.
The more we grow in faith, the further we enter the fiery paradox of Jesus’s peace.
Monday, January 28, 2008
The Truth about UnChristian Fiction
When The Pawn was first released, a woman emailed to ask me if it was a “Christian novel.” Her question really got me thinking, “What would make a book an unChristian novel?”
Hmm… well, maybe one that has lots of erotic sex, gratuitous violence, idolatry, blasphemy, cannibalism… then I thought, No wait, that’s the Old Testament.
I mentioned this little revelation at a Christian bookseller’s conference and I was relieved to see the attendees smile and nod. Then I added, “If the Old Testament were turned into a novel, I don’t think most Christian bookstores would carry it.” Yikes. At first I thought my audience might want to shoot me, in a Christian way, of course. But they seemed to all agree with me. It was refreshing, encouraging. And surprising.
I think they realized that the Bible is real and raw and earthy, and that it honestly tells us how far people can fall from grace, and how far God will reach to save us. Without seeing evil clearly, we’ll never fully embrace forgiveness.
Madeleine L’Engle observed in her book Walking on the Water that a Christian book is one that tells the truth about life, whoever writes it. And I think I agree with her, (although in reality a book can't be a Christian anymore than it can be a Buddhist or a Muslim or a Humanist, only people can). All too often today it seems that Christian fiction is most known not for its honesty about life, but for it’s avoidance of certain subjects--which is exactly the opposite of what the Bible does.
While I understand that some writing can be offensive, and that writing about some topics might lead people into certain types of sin, and that the goal of writing shouldn’t be to shock people just to shock them, I think fiction--especially so called “Christian fiction”-- should be honest both about evil and about hope, both about how lost we are, and about how far and how fervently God will come looking for us. Does The Pawn do that? Well, in a moment of shameless self-promotion, you'll have to read it and decide that for yourself.
Hmm… well, maybe one that has lots of erotic sex, gratuitous violence, idolatry, blasphemy, cannibalism… then I thought, No wait, that’s the Old Testament.
I mentioned this little revelation at a Christian bookseller’s conference and I was relieved to see the attendees smile and nod. Then I added, “If the Old Testament were turned into a novel, I don’t think most Christian bookstores would carry it.” Yikes. At first I thought my audience might want to shoot me, in a Christian way, of course. But they seemed to all agree with me. It was refreshing, encouraging. And surprising.
I think they realized that the Bible is real and raw and earthy, and that it honestly tells us how far people can fall from grace, and how far God will reach to save us. Without seeing evil clearly, we’ll never fully embrace forgiveness.
Madeleine L’Engle observed in her book Walking on the Water that a Christian book is one that tells the truth about life, whoever writes it. And I think I agree with her, (although in reality a book can't be a Christian anymore than it can be a Buddhist or a Muslim or a Humanist, only people can). All too often today it seems that Christian fiction is most known not for its honesty about life, but for it’s avoidance of certain subjects--which is exactly the opposite of what the Bible does.
While I understand that some writing can be offensive, and that writing about some topics might lead people into certain types of sin, and that the goal of writing shouldn’t be to shock people just to shock them, I think fiction--especially so called “Christian fiction”-- should be honest both about evil and about hope, both about how lost we are, and about how far and how fervently God will come looking for us. Does The Pawn do that? Well, in a moment of shameless self-promotion, you'll have to read it and decide that for yourself.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Visiting the Land of the Calgarians
This weekend I’m in Edmonton, Alberta presenting at Breakforth Canada, a ministry conference with, the last I heard, over 15,000 registered. That's a lot of Canadians to pack into one auditorium. I only wish I knew more about hockey so I could actually converse with them.Yesterday I heard someone call her friend a Calgarian, and I thought she was referring to some sort of race of aliens from Star Trek, but then I found out it just means someone from Calgary. I asked her if someone from Edmonton is called an “Edmontarian” but she told me no, if they were they wouldn’t be allowed to eat meat.
Well, there you go.
I was really moved by Erwin McManus’s message last evening as he talked about the beauty and tragedy of life--the paradox of the human condition. I felt a real connection, since I’d written some of the same thoughts in Story and Sailing Between the Stars. Check out his site, or the site of Mosaic, the church he serves in L.A. I think I've found a kindred spirit.
It's been a great trip, great people, and I even found a great little Indian restaurant that served great red curry chicken. Which tasted alot better than Calgarian stew.
I Hear the Eggs Cracking
Sometimes it seems to me that the past has a stranglehold on today. That the mistakes I've made and harsh words I've said and petty grudges I've held somehow reach up through time and wrap their course fingers around my throat. And squeeze.
This morning when that started to happen, I was thinking about the Bible verse that says that God’s mercies (or compassions, see Lamentations 3:22-23) are new every day, and I realized that those words mean the mercies are new for me this minute; but that's what the past can never promise. Second chances.
All too often I get caught up thinking "if only" I’d said this or done that or shut up before I said the things I knew were going to turn into daggers in the air. The past doesn’t offer a chance to take them back. But today God offers a chance to forgive and be forgiven, to start fresh, to let him unpeel the clinging remnants of yesterday and move forward instead of getting dragged backward.
New mercies were born this morning. I heard the eggs cracking when I woke up, saw their tiny heads poking through my regrets. I think I’m going to pick one up and carry it with me through today.
Who knows. By tonight it might be fully grown.
And be carrying me.
This morning when that started to happen, I was thinking about the Bible verse that says that God’s mercies (or compassions, see Lamentations 3:22-23) are new every day, and I realized that those words mean the mercies are new for me this minute; but that's what the past can never promise. Second chances.
All too often I get caught up thinking "if only" I’d said this or done that or shut up before I said the things I knew were going to turn into daggers in the air. The past doesn’t offer a chance to take them back. But today God offers a chance to forgive and be forgiven, to start fresh, to let him unpeel the clinging remnants of yesterday and move forward instead of getting dragged backward.
New mercies were born this morning. I heard the eggs cracking when I woke up, saw their tiny heads poking through my regrets. I think I’m going to pick one up and carry it with me through today.
Who knows. By tonight it might be fully grown.
And be carrying me.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Those Who Worship Artists
Chris Tomlin is a gifted musician and songwriter. I like his music, his passion, and his faithfulness. I mention this because if you didn’t know it, you might think I’m dissing him in this blog. That’s not the intent. Bear with me. I think you’ll see where I’m going.
Recently he came to my hometown to perform. On the radio spots advertising his appearance, they announced that “Artist Worshiper” Chris Tomlin was coming to the civic auditorium.
I remember sitting in the car thinking, Artist worshiper? He worships artists?
Then, after a minute I realized what they were trying to say. No, I don't think Chris Tomlin worships artists. I think instead his publicity team was trying to make his job as a performer sound more religious or spiritual to us—Oh, he’s not just an artist, he’s an artist worshiper. Wow! Let's go worship with an artist!
I wonder it that’s what his business cards say. “Artist Worshiper, Chris Tomlin.” Maybe we should all have cards like that: “Plumber Worshiper” or “High School Drama Teacher Worshiper" or "Novelist Worshiper."
Other times in the past, when other Artist Worshipers have come to town to perform, they’ve been advertised on the radio as leading Worship Concerts or Concerts of Praise. It's a good thing they're not just performing a concert. That wouldn't be very spiritual of them. Of course, we still get to pay $18 to go to their Worship Concert. And $20 to buy their T-shirts for sale at the door.
Over the years I’ve seen more and more of an attitude in Christian circles that being a performer is not as spiritual or significant as being a Worship Leader--or wait, now they call them Lead Worshipers. Maybe they worship lead. Or silver. Who knows.
A comedian using his talents to make people laugh in a nightclub is as much a worshiper as a soloist in the balcony of the church. It’s time to stop all this semantic nonsense of trying to sound spiritual, and let all those who seek Jesus—including those people who just happen to be artists or performers—be known as God worshipers.
Recently he came to my hometown to perform. On the radio spots advertising his appearance, they announced that “Artist Worshiper” Chris Tomlin was coming to the civic auditorium.
I remember sitting in the car thinking, Artist worshiper? He worships artists?
Then, after a minute I realized what they were trying to say. No, I don't think Chris Tomlin worships artists. I think instead his publicity team was trying to make his job as a performer sound more religious or spiritual to us—Oh, he’s not just an artist, he’s an artist worshiper. Wow! Let's go worship with an artist!
I wonder it that’s what his business cards say. “Artist Worshiper, Chris Tomlin.” Maybe we should all have cards like that: “Plumber Worshiper” or “High School Drama Teacher Worshiper" or "Novelist Worshiper."
Other times in the past, when other Artist Worshipers have come to town to perform, they’ve been advertised on the radio as leading Worship Concerts or Concerts of Praise. It's a good thing they're not just performing a concert. That wouldn't be very spiritual of them. Of course, we still get to pay $18 to go to their Worship Concert. And $20 to buy their T-shirts for sale at the door.
Over the years I’ve seen more and more of an attitude in Christian circles that being a performer is not as spiritual or significant as being a Worship Leader--or wait, now they call them Lead Worshipers. Maybe they worship lead. Or silver. Who knows.
A comedian using his talents to make people laugh in a nightclub is as much a worshiper as a soloist in the balcony of the church. It’s time to stop all this semantic nonsense of trying to sound spiritual, and let all those who seek Jesus—including those people who just happen to be artists or performers—be known as God worshipers.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Spiders on the Web
Over the last few months I’ve been sequestered away working on my next novel, The Rook. Now, with final edits just around the corner I’m starting to reconnect with the parts of my life I’ve lost touch with--the outdoor side (more hiking, even in the snow, yes!), the dusting part (I finally took one of those air-blaster-things to the computer and, I kid you not, I found spider webs in my Dell), and the blogging part.
After recovering from two severe computer crashes (in my two remaining non-spider webbed computers), kids with strep, hundreds of emails, and the stress of finally turning in my manuscript… two months late, I feel like I'm shedding layers and layers of life and recovering myself.
So, thanks to all of you who have left comments and stopped by on this blog over the last couple months. I’m finally back, and I’ll be posting alot more regularly once again.
Even if ths spiders don't leave my computer.
After recovering from two severe computer crashes (in my two remaining non-spider webbed computers), kids with strep, hundreds of emails, and the stress of finally turning in my manuscript… two months late, I feel like I'm shedding layers and layers of life and recovering myself.
So, thanks to all of you who have left comments and stopped by on this blog over the last couple months. I’m finally back, and I’ll be posting alot more regularly once again.
Even if ths spiders don't leave my computer.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Worry According to Jesus
I was reading through Jesus’ words on worry yesterday and it struck me once again just how down-to-earth and practical they are. In Matthew 6 he says things like, “Doesn’t God clothe the flowers with beauty and the birds with feathers? Hello! Won’t he take care of you too?... So what are you so worried about?... Friend, don’t worry about what you’re going to eat or drink or wear, those are the things that worldly people live for. Choose to focus on living out and spreading God’s story instead and trust me, he’ll take care of all your needs…”
All this makes so much sense to my heart, but it’s so hard to actually do. Then Jesus said, “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” And I realized that worry never adds anything positive to life, it only detracts from life. It detracts from peace, from faith, from relational harmony, from your spiritual, physical, emotional health. Worry only takes away from the life and doesn’t actually change anything in the end. It has no power to heal, to add life, to deepen relationships.
I know firsthand just how destructive it can be.
I think if our world didn’t have to deal with guilt, shame, grief and worry we’d be experiencing the foretaste of heaven.
Today my prayer is going to be that God lets me have a little nibble by leading me away from worrying about tomorrow. It’s like Jesus said, “Every day has enough problems of its own.”
All this makes so much sense to my heart, but it’s so hard to actually do. Then Jesus said, “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” And I realized that worry never adds anything positive to life, it only detracts from life. It detracts from peace, from faith, from relational harmony, from your spiritual, physical, emotional health. Worry only takes away from the life and doesn’t actually change anything in the end. It has no power to heal, to add life, to deepen relationships.
I know firsthand just how destructive it can be.
I think if our world didn’t have to deal with guilt, shame, grief and worry we’d be experiencing the foretaste of heaven.
Today my prayer is going to be that God lets me have a little nibble by leading me away from worrying about tomorrow. It’s like Jesus said, “Every day has enough problems of its own.”
Friday, June 29, 2007
The Paradox of Freedom
In a previous post a reader asked me to explain what I meant by the paradox of freedom, one of the tips I list for writing. Good question!
Here’s what I’m talking about. Let’s say that you and a friend are trying to decide where to go our for supper. You say, “Where do you want to go?” And she says, “I don’t care, where do you want to go?” “It doesn’t matter to me.” “Well it doesn’t matter to me either.” “Wherever you want.” “I don’t really care.” This can go on for hours. Days. Weeks.
Sometimes in my writing workshops I’ll say, “Write a story.”
“What about?” people ask.
“Anything.”
And ten minutes later when we check to see how everyone is doing, some people haven’t even started yet. Why not? “I couldn’t think of anything to write,” they say.
But, if I say, “In the next ten minutes write a story about a pickle who doesn’t want to get eaten,” every one of them will have a story. Why? Because the problem isn’t that they didn’t have any ideas, the problem was that they had too many ideas. So many ideas in fact, that it crippled their creativity and decision making ability.
It’s the same with a restaurant. If you can go anywhere it’s more difficult to decide than if you are limited. Perhaps by distance, or price, or preference. So here is the paradox of freedom—the more freedom you’re given, the more crippled you become. I know it sounds strange, but there is nothing as liberating as limitations.
So, the first step to writing, actually to making any decision, is to limit yourself. That will free up your creativity and your ability to make decisions.
For more articles and ideas on writing and storytelling, visit my website.
Here’s what I’m talking about. Let’s say that you and a friend are trying to decide where to go our for supper. You say, “Where do you want to go?” And she says, “I don’t care, where do you want to go?” “It doesn’t matter to me.” “Well it doesn’t matter to me either.” “Wherever you want.” “I don’t really care.” This can go on for hours. Days. Weeks.
Sometimes in my writing workshops I’ll say, “Write a story.”
“What about?” people ask.
“Anything.”
And ten minutes later when we check to see how everyone is doing, some people haven’t even started yet. Why not? “I couldn’t think of anything to write,” they say.
But, if I say, “In the next ten minutes write a story about a pickle who doesn’t want to get eaten,” every one of them will have a story. Why? Because the problem isn’t that they didn’t have any ideas, the problem was that they had too many ideas. So many ideas in fact, that it crippled their creativity and decision making ability.
It’s the same with a restaurant. If you can go anywhere it’s more difficult to decide than if you are limited. Perhaps by distance, or price, or preference. So here is the paradox of freedom—the more freedom you’re given, the more crippled you become. I know it sounds strange, but there is nothing as liberating as limitations.
So, the first step to writing, actually to making any decision, is to limit yourself. That will free up your creativity and your ability to make decisions.
For more articles and ideas on writing and storytelling, visit my website.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
How to be Seriously Funny - part 2
I’ve been busy working on The Rook. Forgot about this for a few days. Sorry!
Ok, here are the other ideas. Some overlap a little but you'll get the point.
1. No one gets hurt. Think about the funniest movies you’ve ever seen. Buildings may fall one the actors, they may be right next to an explosion, have cement poured on their heads, catch on fire, and then walk away and brush it off and say something like, “Man that’s going to hurt in the morning." It’s never funny when someone gets hurt for real.
2. Misunderstandings. This is huge in romantic comedies. The guy thinks the girl is thinking one thing, she thinks he's thinking something else. The situation becomes more and more absurd, not just because they misunderstand each other, but because the audience doesn't misunderstand. We see the big picture, we're in on the joke and since we see what's coming. The anticipation of the encounter between the to people is what we look forward to. I think that’s what makes it so funny.
3. Irony and parodies. The secret to using parodies is that the person listening to the story has to know the original story or else the parody isn’t funny. They just don’t get it.
4. Physical humor. Watching movies from other cultures and seeing their comedians is really eye opening. It doesn't seem funny to Americans. It’s almost all exaggerated body language and clowning around. To us, it seems like they’re trying to be funny or acting childish. The early days of TV and lots of our children's programming rely almost entirely on physical humor and silly body language. However, we loved Kramer on Seinfeld and the early antics of Jim Carrey. So there you go. Maybe we're ready for physical humor again.
5. Callbacks. You’ve seen this with comedians. They do a routine early on and then later, they refer back to it and we laugh. I'm not exactly sure why this bit works, but id does. And when it does, when it's done well, it's hilarious.
Finally, a few things that are not funny:
Ok, here are the other ideas. Some overlap a little but you'll get the point.
1. No one gets hurt. Think about the funniest movies you’ve ever seen. Buildings may fall one the actors, they may be right next to an explosion, have cement poured on their heads, catch on fire, and then walk away and brush it off and say something like, “Man that’s going to hurt in the morning." It’s never funny when someone gets hurt for real.
2. Misunderstandings. This is huge in romantic comedies. The guy thinks the girl is thinking one thing, she thinks he's thinking something else. The situation becomes more and more absurd, not just because they misunderstand each other, but because the audience doesn't misunderstand. We see the big picture, we're in on the joke and since we see what's coming. The anticipation of the encounter between the to people is what we look forward to. I think that’s what makes it so funny.
3. Irony and parodies. The secret to using parodies is that the person listening to the story has to know the original story or else the parody isn’t funny. They just don’t get it.
4. Physical humor. Watching movies from other cultures and seeing their comedians is really eye opening. It doesn't seem funny to Americans. It’s almost all exaggerated body language and clowning around. To us, it seems like they’re trying to be funny or acting childish. The early days of TV and lots of our children's programming rely almost entirely on physical humor and silly body language. However, we loved Kramer on Seinfeld and the early antics of Jim Carrey. So there you go. Maybe we're ready for physical humor again.
5. Callbacks. You’ve seen this with comedians. They do a routine early on and then later, they refer back to it and we laugh. I'm not exactly sure why this bit works, but id does. And when it does, when it's done well, it's hilarious.
Finally, a few things that are not funny:
- Making fun of someone other than yourself is not funny.
- Sarcasm is not funny.
- Someone trying to be funny is not funny. In fact, there’s nothing less funny than someone who is trying to be funny.
- Off-color jokes are not funny.
- Puns are not funny. At least not usually. We don’t like investing our interest in something that ends up being an intellectual gimmick.
Friday, June 22, 2007
How to be Seriously Funny
In March when I was teaching writing in India, we brainstormed on the topic: “What makes a story funny?” My students came up with a list that really impressed me. Here are a few of the ideas:1. The Unexpected. Just like a good story, the end of a joke is unexpected by also inevitable. For example, Question: “What’s the difference between boogers and broccoli?” Answer, “Kids won’t eat their broccoli.” But the joke only works if the end is both unexpected and inevitable. If it’s only one or the other, it’s not funny.
2. Truth. Humor almost always tells the truth about life, but from a perspective we hadn’t noticed. We hear the story and we say, “Yes! That’s so true, why didn’t I think of that?” This is evident by the popular comedian shtick, “Did you ever notice that?...” And we laugh because we have noticed it, but we’ve never had our attention drawn to it. I think that's what makes the cars and computers bit so funny (see my last post). But this approach is only funny if people have actually noticed it. If they haven’t they’ll just say, “No. I don’t see what’s so funny about that.”
3. Self-deprecating humor. People don’t ever want you to make fun of them, but you can poke fun at yourself. Once when I was introducing myself at a conference I said, “Last year when I was here a woman said, ‘Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?’ I smiled and said, ‘No.’ And she said, ‘There’s a reason for that.’” People laughed, but they would have turned against me big time if I told it the other way: “Yeah, it was cool. I went up to this woman who was speaking here and I said, ‘Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?’ And when she said, ‘No’ I told her, ‘There’s a reason for that.’” Definitely not funny.
More thoughts tomorrow.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Cars and Computers Revisited
Ok, I know this has been around forever, but a friend of mine just sent it to me today again, and I was reminded of how funny it is. It's from some very clever anonymous cyberspace author.
Later this week I’ll write a few thoughts about what makes something funny. Here it is:
At a recent computer expo (Ha! Urban legend warning!... ), Bill Gates reportedly compared the computer industry with the auto industry and stated, "If GM had kept up with technology like the computer industry has, we would all be driving $25.00 cars that got 1,000 miles to the gallon."
In response to Bill's comments, General Motors issued a press release stating: If GM had developed technology like Microsoft, we would all be driving cars with the following characteristics:
1. For no reason whatsoever, your car would crash.....Twice a day.
2. Every time they repainted the lines in the road, you would have to buy a new car.
3. Occasionally your car would die on the freeway for no reason. (My dear MG!) You would have to pull to the side of the road, close all of the windows, shut off the car, restart it, and reopen the windows before you could continue. For some reason you would simply accept this.
4. Occasionally, executing a maneuver such as a left turn would cause your car to shut down, refuse to restart, in which case you would have to reinstall the engine.
5. Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun, was reliable, five times as fast and twice as easy to drive - but would run on only 5% of the roads.
6. The oil, water temperature and alternator warning lights would all be replaced by a single "This Car Has Performed An Illegal Operation" warning light.
7. The airbag system would ask "Are you sure?" before deploying.
8. Occasionally, for no reason whatsoever, your car would lock you out and refuse to let you in until you simultaneously lifted the door handle, turned the key and grabbed hold of the radio antenna.
9. Every time a new car was introduced car buyers would have to learn how to drive all over again because none of the controls would operate in the same manner as the old car.
10. You'd have to press the "Start" button to turn the engine off.
Later this week I’ll write a few thoughts about what makes something funny. Here it is:
At a recent computer expo (Ha! Urban legend warning!... ), Bill Gates reportedly compared the computer industry with the auto industry and stated, "If GM had kept up with technology like the computer industry has, we would all be driving $25.00 cars that got 1,000 miles to the gallon."
In response to Bill's comments, General Motors issued a press release stating: If GM had developed technology like Microsoft, we would all be driving cars with the following characteristics:
1. For no reason whatsoever, your car would crash.....Twice a day.
2. Every time they repainted the lines in the road, you would have to buy a new car.
3. Occasionally your car would die on the freeway for no reason. (My dear MG!) You would have to pull to the side of the road, close all of the windows, shut off the car, restart it, and reopen the windows before you could continue. For some reason you would simply accept this.
4. Occasionally, executing a maneuver such as a left turn would cause your car to shut down, refuse to restart, in which case you would have to reinstall the engine.
5. Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun, was reliable, five times as fast and twice as easy to drive - but would run on only 5% of the roads.
6. The oil, water temperature and alternator warning lights would all be replaced by a single "This Car Has Performed An Illegal Operation" warning light.
7. The airbag system would ask "Are you sure?" before deploying.
8. Occasionally, for no reason whatsoever, your car would lock you out and refuse to let you in until you simultaneously lifted the door handle, turned the key and grabbed hold of the radio antenna.
9. Every time a new car was introduced car buyers would have to learn how to drive all over again because none of the controls would operate in the same manner as the old car.
10. You'd have to press the "Start" button to turn the engine off.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
The Beekeeper's Song
A few years ago when I visited Kazakhstan, our driver stood up to sing during the Sunday morning worship service. That afternoon I wrote about it.
I was thinking about him today when I went outside and heard the summer unfolding around me, saw the bees busy at our flowers.
the beekeeper’s voice
anatole, the man who drove us around the city,
(the man i couldn’t help but smell from the back of the van),
steps to the front of the church,
he is a beekeeper who lives up in the mountains of kazakhstan,
they tell me.
but then, before my eyes, he changes,
and he steps into the music where he was meant to dwell all along
and his voice fills the room and
makes your soul weep and faint and shudder in awe.
and the walls are not strong enough to hold in the voice of this beekeeper.
it spreads out across the land and takes over the world.
something holy and divine and everlasting dwells in that song. in that moment.
and then, suddenly, he is finished.
his big shoulders slump, and he quietly takes his seat.
and he becomes a reeking russian beekeeper once again.
but the rest of us are changed,
forever.
I was thinking about him today when I went outside and heard the summer unfolding around me, saw the bees busy at our flowers.
the beekeeper’s voice
anatole, the man who drove us around the city,
(the man i couldn’t help but smell from the back of the van),
steps to the front of the church,
he is a beekeeper who lives up in the mountains of kazakhstan,
they tell me.
but then, before my eyes, he changes,
and he steps into the music where he was meant to dwell all along
and his voice fills the room and
makes your soul weep and faint and shudder in awe.
and the walls are not strong enough to hold in the voice of this beekeeper.
it spreads out across the land and takes over the world.
something holy and divine and everlasting dwells in that song. in that moment.
and then, suddenly, he is finished.
his big shoulders slump, and he quietly takes his seat.
and he becomes a reeking russian beekeeper once again.
but the rest of us are changed,
forever.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
The Man of Sorrows
As I was thinking about the topic of discernment and telling the truth in fiction, I remembered a conversation I had with a very thoughtful man from Iran on a flight a few months ago. We began talking about spiritual things and he had a ton of great questions. I struggled a bit with my answers, especially to his question about why there’s evil in the world if God is good.
At one point in the conversation I mentioned that I sometimes struggle with depression and he said, “If Jesus is so powerful, why doesn’t he help you with that?”
Wow. And I had no idea what to say. I sat there for a moment speechless because I do believe in Jesus’s power, but I also know we live in this imperfect, painful world. And we each have our struggles.
Then I remembered the verse in Luke where it says Jesus was a man of sorrows. (I just looked it up, I was wrong. It's Isaiah 53:3. Luke 22:45 just says Jesus was exhausted from sorrow.) I mentioned that to my friend and that also, in the book of John, Jesus is called a man of joy, complete joy (see John 15). I asked him, “Why do you think the Bible would call Jesus a man of sorrows?”
And my friend thought about it for a moment and then he said, “Because he saw the world as it really is.” Then he turned to me and nodded. “Jesus was a man of sorrows. That’s the best answer you’ve given me all night.”
But I think his answer was the best one of the night.
Jesus saw the world as it really is. And the more we become like him, the more we will see and experience that sorrow and that joy too.
I believe that the stories we tell, the novels we write, the sermons we preach, the movies we recommend should be honest about both facets of our world, both sides of the truth. The minute we pretend there’s no reason to feel sorrow, or that there aren’t enough reasons to feel joy, we’ve drifted from the truth and stopped seeing the world as it really is.
At one point in the conversation I mentioned that I sometimes struggle with depression and he said, “If Jesus is so powerful, why doesn’t he help you with that?”
Wow. And I had no idea what to say. I sat there for a moment speechless because I do believe in Jesus’s power, but I also know we live in this imperfect, painful world. And we each have our struggles.
Then I remembered the verse in Luke where it says Jesus was a man of sorrows. (I just looked it up, I was wrong. It's Isaiah 53:3. Luke 22:45 just says Jesus was exhausted from sorrow.) I mentioned that to my friend and that also, in the book of John, Jesus is called a man of joy, complete joy (see John 15). I asked him, “Why do you think the Bible would call Jesus a man of sorrows?”
And my friend thought about it for a moment and then he said, “Because he saw the world as it really is.” Then he turned to me and nodded. “Jesus was a man of sorrows. That’s the best answer you’ve given me all night.”
But I think his answer was the best one of the night.
Jesus saw the world as it really is. And the more we become like him, the more we will see and experience that sorrow and that joy too.
I believe that the stories we tell, the novels we write, the sermons we preach, the movies we recommend should be honest about both facets of our world, both sides of the truth. The minute we pretend there’s no reason to feel sorrow, or that there aren’t enough reasons to feel joy, we’ve drifted from the truth and stopped seeing the world as it really is.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Developing Discernment
Just a quick note, I’ve been thinking about how we evaluate media because I received an email last week asking me, “Is The Pawn a Christian novel?”
Hm. What makes a novel, a story, a movie, Christian? I agree with Madeline L’engle that it’s Christian if it tells the truth about the way the world really is.
Ok, so here you go. I think that when it comes to movies and media, discernment involves evaluating at least three things:
(1) The artistic quality. If it’s a film, how well is it directed? Is the acting excellent or cheesy and second-rate? What about the storytelling? How well is the movie edited? How coherently do the scenes fit together? How about the cinematography, camera angles, pace, dialogue?
Many so-called “Christian films” and “Christian novels” are concerned with not offending people, or getting some kind of message across, rather than telling a good story. As a result both the message and the story suffer. And that’s more offensive to me than objectionable content.
(2) The worldview of the movie. Does this movie portray a universe where choices matter, or one in which fate and destiny rule? Are good and evil portrayed as equally strong, or does good have the power to conquer in the end? Are life, and the choices we make, meaningful and substantive, or is life simply meaningless and random? In this movie, do the ends justify the means? Are values of right and wrong dependant on the situation, or are they derived from a higher good?
When the Harry Potter books and movies came out, many fundamentalist Christians avoided them because of the content (spells, magic, wizards, etc…) and didn’t acknowledge the artistic excellence of the storytelling. In addition, the world of Harry Potter is unashamedly moral, choices matter, life is not just a matter of fate and timing. However, in the Harry Potter world, the ends justify the means. I believe discernment is harder than blind condemnation, but also more worthwhile.
(3) The content. I do think it’s legitimate to be wary of a film’s content. Sometimes the images will lead you into thought-territory that you have no business trespassing into. Graphic violence, gory murders, glorified eroticism, titillating sex, and gutter language can all affect the way we think, the way we relate to other people, the way we relate to God--and the scenes don’t typically have a purifying effect. However, content is only one of the factors a discerning person will use when evaluating media.
Undoubtedly some people will not welcome the violence in The Pawn. But I believe discerning readers will connect with the story on many other levels.
There you have it. I welcome your response.
Hm. What makes a novel, a story, a movie, Christian? I agree with Madeline L’engle that it’s Christian if it tells the truth about the way the world really is.
Ok, so here you go. I think that when it comes to movies and media, discernment involves evaluating at least three things:
(1) The artistic quality. If it’s a film, how well is it directed? Is the acting excellent or cheesy and second-rate? What about the storytelling? How well is the movie edited? How coherently do the scenes fit together? How about the cinematography, camera angles, pace, dialogue?
Many so-called “Christian films” and “Christian novels” are concerned with not offending people, or getting some kind of message across, rather than telling a good story. As a result both the message and the story suffer. And that’s more offensive to me than objectionable content.
(2) The worldview of the movie. Does this movie portray a universe where choices matter, or one in which fate and destiny rule? Are good and evil portrayed as equally strong, or does good have the power to conquer in the end? Are life, and the choices we make, meaningful and substantive, or is life simply meaningless and random? In this movie, do the ends justify the means? Are values of right and wrong dependant on the situation, or are they derived from a higher good?
When the Harry Potter books and movies came out, many fundamentalist Christians avoided them because of the content (spells, magic, wizards, etc…) and didn’t acknowledge the artistic excellence of the storytelling. In addition, the world of Harry Potter is unashamedly moral, choices matter, life is not just a matter of fate and timing. However, in the Harry Potter world, the ends justify the means. I believe discernment is harder than blind condemnation, but also more worthwhile.
(3) The content. I do think it’s legitimate to be wary of a film’s content. Sometimes the images will lead you into thought-territory that you have no business trespassing into. Graphic violence, gory murders, glorified eroticism, titillating sex, and gutter language can all affect the way we think, the way we relate to other people, the way we relate to God--and the scenes don’t typically have a purifying effect. However, content is only one of the factors a discerning person will use when evaluating media.
Undoubtedly some people will not welcome the violence in The Pawn. But I believe discerning readers will connect with the story on many other levels.
There you have it. I welcome your response.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Christians at the Movies
I love movies but I have a problem--I also like to recommend them to other people, and that’s where things get weird.
You see, some of the movies I like include what many of my friends would call "objectionable content." To me, objectionable content includes bad acting, idiotic storytelling, poor directing or lame writing, but usually to my friends it means that the movie includes: (1) sex or nudity (it doesn’t even matter if the sex is between married couples, it’s sex so it’s objectionable), (2) bad language, (3) violence, or (4) depictions of drug or alcohol use.
Their evaluations of the movie tend to go like this: “You should see it, it’s great! There’s no sex or violence or bad language or anything!”
I’m always tempted to point out to them that a blank movie screen also includes none of those things and that I wouldn’t pay eight bucks to sit and watch that for two hours, but I usually hold my tongue. That, or I feel like encouraging them to avoid reading the Old Testament where erotic poetry, brutal violence, blasphemy, prostitution, and scenes of drunken orgy populate the pages. Typically I just say, “Oh, well. It sounds like you really enjoyed it.”
I think that if the content of the Old Testament wasn’t in the Bible, but was published as a novel instead, Christian bookstores wouldn’t carry it because of all the "objectionable content."
Tomorrow I’ll share the three factors I think discerning people should use when evaluating media. Stay tuned 'till then.
Meanwhile, check out some of Ransom Fellowship's thoughtful, insightful and balanced movie reviews at http://www.ransomfellowship.org/movies_reviews.html
I'll bet you leave impressed and filled with great ideas for your Netflix list.
You see, some of the movies I like include what many of my friends would call "objectionable content." To me, objectionable content includes bad acting, idiotic storytelling, poor directing or lame writing, but usually to my friends it means that the movie includes: (1) sex or nudity (it doesn’t even matter if the sex is between married couples, it’s sex so it’s objectionable), (2) bad language, (3) violence, or (4) depictions of drug or alcohol use.
Their evaluations of the movie tend to go like this: “You should see it, it’s great! There’s no sex or violence or bad language or anything!”
I’m always tempted to point out to them that a blank movie screen also includes none of those things and that I wouldn’t pay eight bucks to sit and watch that for two hours, but I usually hold my tongue. That, or I feel like encouraging them to avoid reading the Old Testament where erotic poetry, brutal violence, blasphemy, prostitution, and scenes of drunken orgy populate the pages. Typically I just say, “Oh, well. It sounds like you really enjoyed it.”
I think that if the content of the Old Testament wasn’t in the Bible, but was published as a novel instead, Christian bookstores wouldn’t carry it because of all the "objectionable content."
Tomorrow I’ll share the three factors I think discerning people should use when evaluating media. Stay tuned 'till then.
Meanwhile, check out some of Ransom Fellowship's thoughtful, insightful and balanced movie reviews at http://www.ransomfellowship.org/movies_reviews.html
I'll bet you leave impressed and filled with great ideas for your Netflix list.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Here's The Pawn Trailer
Part of my brain is still stuck in the 20th century and it took me a couple of days to figure out how to add the video to my blog. Alas, here it is!
Btw, thanks to all the folks at Revell Publishing for inviting me to meet with them in Michigan last week. They were amazingly supportive and encouraging. The coffee was good. The food was good. And I'm excited to see what unfolds. You guys rock! (Or as we say here, "All y'all rock!")
Also, thanks to Kyle Long who produced the trailer. If you want to check out more of his work, go to http://www.digital-fridge.net/
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Stupid Signs
I just feel like sharing some of the weird signs I've seen while traveling. I saw this one at Faith Memorial Gardens (a graveyard) in Huntsville, Alabama: "Buy 3 spots get 1 free!" Now, just think about that. Let that sink in. What kind of a person would offer a promotion like this? What kind of a person would impulse buy four funeral plots?
I saw this sign at a highway construction area in Virginia. Now, track with me here, don't let me lose you. The sign had all these lights around the outside of it and it read, "Construction workers present when flashing."
I just sat there thinking, "That's the last thing I want to see."
And this one up in the mountains of Colorado: "In case of flood, seek high ground."
And this one on a gas station in Kentucky: "One Month Unlimited Tanning!"
And this one on the front door of a supermarket in Tennessee: "Push. Do Not Enter."
That last one's a very bad sign if you're schizophrenic. That, or maybe if you're a college philosophy professor: "What is the meaning of the push if you're not allowed to use it? If you're told to push the door, but have no purpose in the push, do you push it of your own free will? If so, why? If not, why not? Please write a 500 word essay on what the sign really means."
But my favorite of all time might just be the sign I saw a couple of weeks ago in Decatur, Alabama: "Decatur Radiator Service - The Best Place in Town to Take a Leak."
And then next to it, a sign that read, "Customer Parking in Rear."
A few more of my favs are on the right.
I saw this sign at a highway construction area in Virginia. Now, track with me here, don't let me lose you. The sign had all these lights around the outside of it and it read, "Construction workers present when flashing."
I just sat there thinking, "That's the last thing I want to see."
And this one up in the mountains of Colorado: "In case of flood, seek high ground."
And this one on a gas station in Kentucky: "One Month Unlimited Tanning!"
And this one on the front door of a supermarket in Tennessee: "Push. Do Not Enter."
That last one's a very bad sign if you're schizophrenic. That, or maybe if you're a college philosophy professor: "What is the meaning of the push if you're not allowed to use it? If you're told to push the door, but have no purpose in the push, do you push it of your own free will? If so, why? If not, why not? Please write a 500 word essay on what the sign really means."
But my favorite of all time might just be the sign I saw a couple of weeks ago in Decatur, Alabama: "Decatur Radiator Service - The Best Place in Town to Take a Leak."
And then next to it, a sign that read, "Customer Parking in Rear."
A few more of my favs are on the right.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Video Trailer for The Pawn
Hey! I wanted to let you know that the video trailer for my new thriller, The Pawn, has just been posted on YouTube. Check it out, I think you'll like it!Very creepy. Here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_HlC7Kvap8
The book will be released on September 1, 2007. You can preorder it off my website or from Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0800732405/ref=cm_arms_pdp_dp/102-7288999-5686541
P.S. If you like the video, it'd be very cool if you can rate it on YouTube, save it to your favorites, send the link to your friends, or add it to your MySpace or Facebook page. It'll help get the word out and, of course, save us money on marketing. Thanks!!
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Let Me Be Young Enough
This morning we stayed home from church to worship as a family and I wrote this prayer while I was sitting at the dining room table waiting for the service to begin:God of the Dawn and the Day,
Let me be young enough to kiss your elbow and believe in fairies and dragons.
Let me be young enough to run, not walk, toward the playground,
and when I fall, to just get back up again,
and when other kids cry, to join them and not
be ashamed.
Let me be young enough to make snow angels and
climb trees in the twilight;
to be frightened of the darkness
and unwilling to stay in the big house all alone,
and astonished by dandelions and quick to chase
fireflies.
Let me be young enough to believe,
really believe, that you rose from the dead
and live in my heart, and then, make me
so excited about it that I can’t help but tell
all the other kids at recess that God actually
lives inside of me.
Let me be young enough to be afraid of
what’s going to happen to me when
Dad gets home, but humble enough
to run to him and cling to his leg when he does.
Let me be young enough to spill my ice cream
and then presumptuous enough to just ask for more;
young enough to say my prayers
and trust that they’ll be heard.
Let me be young enough
to bring you my stick-figure drawings
and know you’ll find room for them on your fridge.
Let me be child-enough
to step through the door to your kingdom
and then realize, in one astonishing
moment of somersault excitement,
that heaven is more like a sleepover
than an elders' meeting,
more like going camping and
eating macaroni and cheese with Dad
and playing in the tree house
than sitting through a Sunday morning
church service.
Because then, when I’m finally that young,
I’ll finally be born.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Surviving the Pitfalls
A couple of months ago I was speaking with my pastor and during the conversation I wrote down some notes. They’re all ideas on helping a marriage survive difficult times. (I’ll bet you don’t have to guess who needed the advice more, my pastor or me.) Most the ideas came from him, a few from me. Here they are:
1. Come to the place of loving and accepting yourself. When you’re consumed with guilt rather than acceptance (of yourself and your spouse) you’re caught in a downward spiral that doesn’t serve either of you well.
2. Don’t forget that she is a real person, full of needs and desires and longings and frustrations just like you. It’s easy to forget when you live with someone long enough.
3. Sometimes you need to be a hypocrite to your feelings. If you’re not feeling loving and you say, “I love you,” then you might consider it hypocritical, but you’re also affirming your commitment toward love. If you say, “I don’t love you,” then you might be telling how you really feel right now, but you’re breaking the promise you made to love until death. So, you need to choose—either be hypocritical to your commitment, or to your feelings. And only one serves your spouse.
4. Enter her world, give her what you want out of a relationship. (I suppose this works the other way as well, from wife to husband.)
5. It’s more of a blessing to give than to receive, so look for ways to give rather than defaulting back to finding ways to take.
6. Help her flower. She’ll naturally reflect your moods, so let her reflect light instead of darkness.
7. Guilt can be either a road that leads closer to Jesus or it can become a pit of selfishness, focusing only on your mistakes rather than on God’s grace. Let guilt serve you by leading you further from yourself and closer to him.
I think it’s good stuff, good advice. I’m still working at living it out. Any additional advice anyone wants to offer?
1. Come to the place of loving and accepting yourself. When you’re consumed with guilt rather than acceptance (of yourself and your spouse) you’re caught in a downward spiral that doesn’t serve either of you well.
2. Don’t forget that she is a real person, full of needs and desires and longings and frustrations just like you. It’s easy to forget when you live with someone long enough.
3. Sometimes you need to be a hypocrite to your feelings. If you’re not feeling loving and you say, “I love you,” then you might consider it hypocritical, but you’re also affirming your commitment toward love. If you say, “I don’t love you,” then you might be telling how you really feel right now, but you’re breaking the promise you made to love until death. So, you need to choose—either be hypocritical to your commitment, or to your feelings. And only one serves your spouse.
4. Enter her world, give her what you want out of a relationship. (I suppose this works the other way as well, from wife to husband.)
5. It’s more of a blessing to give than to receive, so look for ways to give rather than defaulting back to finding ways to take.
6. Help her flower. She’ll naturally reflect your moods, so let her reflect light instead of darkness.
7. Guilt can be either a road that leads closer to Jesus or it can become a pit of selfishness, focusing only on your mistakes rather than on God’s grace. Let guilt serve you by leading you further from yourself and closer to him.
I think it’s good stuff, good advice. I’m still working at living it out. Any additional advice anyone wants to offer?
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