A Novelist Who Writes Non-Fiction Blogs

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I love story. I love picking up a book and sinking into a character’s journey. Experiencing life and emotion through another’s perspective.

Becoming a novelist was a natural progression for me. Books became my escape from the loneliness and pain as a sensitive introvert in a family that didn’t know how to do relationship or life well. I longed for the love and connections I drank in each week as I watched Little House on the Prairie–wishing so much that I could be Laura Ingalls (though with Mary’s hair). I wanted to be loved with the depth and passion of a father like Charles Ingalls.

Fast forward many years and many choices that brought more scars to my heart. The emotional pain kept me crying out to God for relief. For help. For freedom.

And so started a journey in which God began restoring my soul. Healing brokenness and deep wounds. Bringing joy and peace. And the more healing I received, the more aware I became of the enemy’s tactics against us—God’s precious, broken sheep. And the stronger my passion to help others find the freedom I so craved when I was deep in the pit of hopelessness and shame.

So while I write fiction novels, I blog about freedom and hope.

God has gifted many of us with the power of words.

Not all are called to wield the power of words in the same way. But each of us is uniquely gifted to shine light into our patch of His garden. To hold the light high so lost and hurting sheep can find their way home.

My passion is that none would be lost. And that those who aren’t lost—those who believe in Jesus—don’t live as prisoners of war. Locked behind the enemy lines of hopelessness and fear, defeat and despair.

So many of us present smiling facades. The greater the success, the more invested we tend to be in hiding our brokenness behind shiny walls. Walls that imprison rather than protect.

Our world has evolved from front porch sitting and conversing to a place where technology is replacing face-to-face interaction.

We are designed to be seen and known and accepted in all our flawed beauty. Without that, our souls slowly shrivel while our public (and Facebook) smiles get brighter.

My desire is to encourage people to see beyond their intellectual understanding that Jesus died so we can live as overcomers, and helping them take the steps to live that as their reality. Making the promises of God a tangible daily experience rather than verses we quote but have no real belief in.

God’s desire is that we live in His promises, that His fruits fuel and flow through us. And my hope is to shed light on how to step into all that God has for us, how to kick the enemy and his lies to the curb so we become fully who He designed us to be—His spotless bride.

If Ever There Was A Time For Writers . . .

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*****

“It is the miraculous language that drags me back into its delicious kingdom again and again . . . meticulously chosen words . . . I want to enter this kingdom, with such desperation, I am willing to die for it . . . And to enter a book, to let my life course out and stream past me, is to, in a  small way, die.”

On Reading, by Cynthia Cruz, via The Rumpus, 4/29/2013 

*****

If ever the world groaned for hope, it is now.

If ever the world needed writers, artists, poets, and musicians, it is now.

Even a glance through centuries past testifies to the power of artists, those sage interpreters of the soul, to draw hope from the detritus of despair and unveil rainbows from the bleak abyss of injustice.

And so, if God has called you to write, He has called you to deliver His people from this present darkness.

If that sounds like a big job, it is.

If that sounds like it’s too much for your feeble pen to handle, it is.

Because only a Savior can sand down the sharp edges of pain. Only a Savior can sweep darkness away with a great exhale which leaves in its wake a symphony. Only a Savior can deliver us.

So what’s a writer to do?

First, like the brown, peeling bulbs we tuck into the earth in the fall, don’t be afraid to plant the seemingly worthless and ugly. God is smitten with the beauty we allow Him to create with the broken, insignificant and useless parts of our selves. Keep writing, even if there’s no tangible payback or reward. Be faithful with little, and He will be faithful with making much of whatever meager loaves and fishes we lay at His feet. Spring comes, dear one. Spring comes.

Second, take time to celebrate Sabbath. Renew your mind and stretch your imagination by reading a book outside your usual genre, or a book in the Bible you haven’t considered in a while. And as you do, pray God gives you eyes to see and ears to hear what He wants for His lost ones. Look for ways to infuse His whispers into your stories.

Third, if you feel stuck, dig deeper. Press into the words you pen, and let them press into you, that they may make an unmistakable imprint of redemption and hope upon the reader by the time the last page is turned.

Make people want to enter not just any kingdom, but God’s Kingdom, breaking into the world by the surrender of your pen today.

*****

    “I spoke to the prophets,

gave them many visions
and told parables through them.”

Hosea 12:10 (NIV)

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How can you let God lead you more in your writing life? In what ways can you more fully surrender your pen for His glory? 

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Amy writes words of hope for a hurting world. Look for her debut novel, How Sweet The Sound, coming March 1, 2014 from David C. Cook.

Loaves, Fish, and Writers

Late in the afternoon the twelve came to him and said, “Send the crowd away so they can go to the surrounding villages and countryside and find food and lodging, because we are in a remote place here.” 

He replied,  “You give them something to eat.” 

They answered, “We have only five loaves of bread and two fish—unless we go and buy food for all this crowd.”  (About five thousand men were there.)

But he said to his disciples, “Have them sit down in groups of about fifty each.”  The disciples did so, and everybody sat down. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke them. Then he gave them to the disciples to set before the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over.  Luke 9:12 – 17

Give it up

Poking at God about what I could cook for you today, he flipped this sizzling little fish story onto my brain plate.

Eyes scrunched on “impossibility” rather than on the Master of limitless capability, it’s easy for us writers to be disciple-like and condescend to natural-mindedness.

The crowds aren’t growing less hungry, aren’t inching any closer to food. Cloistered in the middle of nowhere, fatigued and famished, the beloved twelve scratch their heads before Jesus speaks: “Give the people something to eat.”

As we shake our heads at our scanty drizzle of words, Christ tells us the same: “Give the people something to eat. Don’t worry about sparse resources or small beginnings. If I’m in it, as sure as the heavens, you can make a difference.”

“Give them something to eat.” 

Thrust in this love-test, the apostle John records a different angle in sharing Philip’s retort: “Eight months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each one to have a bite.” Andrew speaks up. “Here’s a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?”

No matter how measly, how un-supersized our flounderings, if God calls us to serve fresh truth in a word-stir, if he speaks the royal “ok,” we step up.

Notice how Jesus dishes up faith-stretching instructions to the disciples. Directing five thousand people to sit in groups of fifty is no small potatoes. It takes time and sweat. Just like advancing in writing.

And so we lift our minuscule loaves and fish, and give thanks.

Give Thanks

Wouldn’t you give your lunch to see the puzzled looks on those hungry faces when Jesus raises his bitty snacks to give thanks?

Thanksgiving flows from a posture of humility. The soul bends low, acknowledging our Sovereign Source, his power, ability, and desire to provide.

Jesus gives thanks and his fingers rip the bread. I wonder if he considers how his flesh will soon be broken to feed many.

Writers know about brokenness, the heart-deep pain-sap that drives and feeds our meanderings. With battle scars, we give thanks to the living Word who uses our words and wounds to paint blood-colored pictures of grace.

No matter how few or many we touch, we give thanks for the opportunity. Chosen conduits of hope, we’re blessed to be a blessing. Our words, charged with Spirit-power, awaken God-hunger. They sustain and multiply life!

Whenever we naturally live out thankfulness, we display God’s bigness to a hungry, watching world. We become more than wishful thinkers about remote possibilities.  We reveal supernatural expectancy. This is how the world sees truth in us as we step up to our dream.

Expect Much

“It will take a miracle to get published!” We say it like miracles are viruses when they’re more likely God’s favorite pastimes.

Food in hand, Jesus says thanks because he expects the miracle. He prays and “looks to heaven.” He isn’t focused on his stomach, the food, or the crowd, but on his Father, the source.

The more we fix our eyes on God, the more we see miracles. The more we see miracles, the more we look for them in him.

“Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread…” God’s prayer transcends the “me,” and rests on “us,” because we, in the body, are one, and because love necessitates caring for those outside ourselves.

If we want to use our love gift to nourish souls, we can expect God’s provision to match his call. I haven’t forgotten that we can also expect spiritual warfare (perhaps even intensified tests from a rattled enemy), but ultimately mercy triumphs over Satan’s thievery. God promises to give us everything we need to win!

This gift, this impervious spawning of words, isn’t an instant dinner miracle; rather, it’s a progressive one, a long-term partnership with Chef Jesus.

Part of the miracle involves staying with the process. If God says, “Get everything and everybody in place,” that’s what we do. We plunge in for the long run, expecting to produce sweet fruits like patience and perseverance. Likewise, we expect readers, writers, characters, and observers to be transformed by our faithfulness.

We’re Christ-followers, sojourners on the cusp of miracles. In the course of our collective, out-of-this-world writer-journeys, we can expect nothing less than God cooking up his best.

Bon appetit!

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11. 

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