Truth is My Sword

Yesterday was crazy and I was gone nearly all day.  So I didn’t have time to make Friday’s posts, but instead of just not posting I am giving you Friday’s post today.  Enjoy and sorry it’s late.  _______________________________________________________________________________

We are soldiers.  We have armor.  We have a weapon.  We need to be fighting.

The thought occurred to me a few days ago, something about the Spiritual Armor, or mostly, our Spiritual sword.  We have a sword; Truth is its name, but do we know how to use it?  To become an expert swordsman practice and training (hard training) is involved. 

Now, I love swords.  If I had the money, my wall would be filled with beautiful mounted steal blades.  I also have spared with wooden practice swords and have plans to begin training in the use of the long sword.  Let me tell you, it’s hard.  Even with wood.  Your arms begin to ache, your knuckles turn purple form being wacked one too many times, your heart rate is up and you sweat.  If the physical training is tough, I wonder what the spiritual training is like, but we can’t let that stop us. 

How many of us are training to use our God given weapon; truth.  How many of us can even hold the heavy blade up and swing it?

God gave us this weapon for a reason.  The bible says, “Know the truth and the truth will set you free.”  People, Christians, it’s time to head for boot camp.  It’s time to train; it’s time to take up your sword.

This is what I endeavor to do and you can to.  God gave us the gift of writing.  Ever heard the well know quote “The pen is mightier than the sword”?  In many ways that is true, but we don’t just have a pen to fight with, we have a weapon, THE weapon.  Truth.  Rise up and wield it.

Truth is my Sword,

The Spirit my Fire,

Christ my Passion.

Writing by Faith (Part 2)

I know this is late… but here it is, finally. 

__________________________________________________________________

The fantasy dilemma: 

When it comes to writing your faith, fantasy is one of the hardest genres.  Fantasy is all about magic, how it influences the world and the people who use it.  We all know that there are fantasy books out there that are fine and others you want to steer clear of.  If you are a Christian and you write fantasy, there are fine lines that shouldn’t be crossed.   If you’re like me and fantasy is your niche, and you’re wondering, how do you keep it in a faith basted standard, here is what I discovered.

 Magic: The Big M – What is it about this little word when it comes to Christianity?  Well first of all, in Exodus 22:18 God tells the Israelites, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”  (Sorceress/er in other translations.)  Umm, if God said that I’m guessing it’s bad.  He goes on to say, “Do not practice divination or sorcery” (Leviticus 19:26), “Do not turn to mediums or seek out spiritists, for you will be defiled by them.  I am the LORD you’re God” (Leviticus 19:31), “I will set my face against the person who turns to mediums and spiritists to prostitute himself by following them, and I will cut him off from his people” (Leviticus 20:6). God ends with saying, all mediums and spiritists must be put to death by stoning, “their blood will be on their own heads.” 

Second, where do these people get their power?  They’re not called spiritists for nothing.  From spirits, aka demons, aka Satan.

This is the reason why I am against books/movie such as Harry Potter.  The good guys are witches when God is very clear that witches ARE NOT GOOD! 

Now, there are different kinds of “magic”.  There is the fairy tale magic that is purely mythical.  There are miracles, (but we all know they’re not magic.)  Then there is real magic, and that is altogether evil.

(I know what you’re thinking right about now.  What about Gandalf in The Lord of The Rings?  Or the Deep Magic and the wizard Coriakin in Narnia?  Since I am here to talk about writing faith filled fantasy, not the difference between magic in well known books, I will try and cover it in another post.)

My Solution:  When I decided to write a fantasy my first decision was, I was NOT going to use magic, of any kind.  Well… I discovered how hard a thing that really was.  So this is what I did.  I have sorcery in my fantasy novels, but it is ONLY USED BY THE VILLIANS.  I DO NOT portray it as a GOOD THING.  I show it for what it really is EVIL.  (Plus it makes for an awesomely creepy villain.) 

What Else?

Elves:   Do I have elves?  Do they use magic?  Yes, I have elves, no they do not use magic, but they are “magical”, or seem magical, (after all, they are elves).

Dragons:  My dragons are very intelligent beast that can communicate in a very unique way (that is purely fantasy), and as my mentor put it when my hero asks how they do it, “They were made that way by the creator.”

Dwarves:  My dwarves are just another race and very non-magical.

Goblins:  The bad guys.  Creatures made by the “evil itself” villain as a corrupt copy of man.  

There you have it.  It took me a long time to develop it all, but here it is.  Any questions?    

To Write with Faith (Part 1)

How do we write to show our faith? For some the answer is simple, for others, it’s a mystery. But mysteries are meant to be solved, and here is how I solved my own mystery of writing with my faith.

The story:
First, if you love God and are striving to be like Him, your stories should/will reflect that. When I start on a new story idea the first thing I ask myself is; “Does this story in some way have a Christ like theme? Can I give it one?” If not, it never goes any farther than a three sentence idea in my notebook. But if it does or I can, I go on and begin outlining. For instance, my current novels theme is hope, or rather the hope Christ gives us. Tyra’s story is about the saving power of Agape Love. Kate and Terren’s story hasn’t gone very far because I still don’t know what Christ like theme it will reflect.
How do you decide on a theme? Simple, what is God teaching you right now? I’ve noticed that with all my stories, they all reflect what God was teaching me at the time. (I always have hope in Christ. God’s love can overcome anything.)

Write with a purpose:
Don’t write for yourself, writer for Christ. If you are writing for yourself you are writing what the flesh enjoys, but if you write for Christ you are writing what He enjoys. Think of Jesus as your biggest fan, your number one reader, critic and editor. Your writing needs to please Him.
Think about it – If you are a true Bible believing Christian, what kind of witness would you have if you were known for your non-Christian writing?

Be careful:
Don’t give in to that little voice that says, “Writing Christian stories is too hard,” “Not very many people will read them anyway”. I almost gave into that voice, but God got a hold of me and turned me back in the right direction. Hold fast, God is there guiding you. Don’t give up or give in. Pray, cling to the father’s hand. Believe me, it’s worth it.

(Look for part 2 next Friday!)

Battling a Giant

The beast stares at me, a devilish grin spreading across his hideous face. His eyes dance in evil glee as he looks at me from over his shoulder. He raises his thick arm and beckons to me with a wave of his grimy figure.

“Come along,” he gently coos. “I see you are tired, come, rest your mind and enjoy the time. You deserve it, your tasks won’t go anywhere, leave them for now.” I would be a fool to listen to his honey coated words. One glimpse of his ugly face should have sent me running, but what do I do? With a shrug of my shoulders I lay aside my duty, his hypnotic words playing in my mind, “You are tired, you deserve it,” and with one step at a time- I follow him.

This is my giant. Though in this scenario he calls to me, on most occasions, he doesn’t say a word. He is a foul brute, sapping my enthusiasm and draining my dignity. We all know him well, though we try to ignore or deny it, to most of us this giant is our close companion. His name? Procrastination. Like Jack and the Bean Stalk his great shadow covers us and snuffs out our joy, but unlike Jack’s giant, this one never sleeps.

Even now I can feel his hot breath on my neck. Hear his whispers of pleasure. I know they are lies, I know they can only lead to a pile of unfinished or untouched work at the end of the day, but I still follow. I let him take my hand and lead me away from what I know I should be doing. Oh how I hate him! Oh how I hate how easily he ensnares me! How I hate the fact- I offer not fight. I forget whose soldier I am. I forget the sword and shield at my side. I forget the promise of God that he will not test me beyond what I can handle. I forget that He who lives within me is greater than he who lives in the world. I forget that He has given me the strength I need to fight. I forget… the choice to follow, is mine.

There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.  I Corinthians 11:13

And he said unto me, “My grace is sufficient for thee; for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  II Corinthians 12:9

Down on My Knees… Yet Again.

I fell on my face before God this morning.  I thought I was ready for a new year, for all the new steps I knew it would bring.  Now, here I am, a week into it and I crumpled.  In my own mind I felt I could do whatever I set my will on; I had the ability, I had the knowledge, I felt in control.  Yesterday it became too much, I couldn’t handle it, I couldn’t do it, now, in my mind I had failed.  My first reaction should have been to fall on my face before God right then and there, but did I?  No.  I just let the thorn fester, I lost sleep and woke feeling more broken then before. 
“God!”  I cried, “Take it!  My fear, my pride, my sin, my incompleteness.”  I fell to my knees and wept.  Over and over again I try to make it on my own and over and over and over I end up on my face, broken, fallen, a filthy rage at the feet of the Holy One.
God, do you ever grow tired as I make the same mistake again and yet again for the thousandth time?  Or do you just smile and weep with me as I come crawling back to you?  Is that what it’s all about?  Is it alright?  As long as I come back?  As long as I give it all back to you?  Oh God!  Help me!  I believe, but help my unbelief. 
That’s the beauty of grace, isn’t it?  How we blow it over and over, yet you still call us, you still love us, you still want us back.  Father, your mercy is unmatched, your love is forever, or grace is all sufficient.  Your hand will never let go.  Even when I turn my back you are there.  Even when I stop my ears you still whisper.  Even when I shut my heart, you still touch.  Oh Father, I am on my knees, take me back.

Dead Air

I sit at my desk and stare forlornly at my notebook. Pen in hand I tap the blank sheet of paper glaring up at me. I frown and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Come on”, I whisper to myself, “Just think.” I aimlessly write a title at the top of the page; Notes for Chapter such-in-such. There, it’s not blank anymore. I sit back in my chair and glance out the window; raining, figures. Know I tap the pen on the edge of the desk and drum my finger beside it.
“Ah!” I toss the pen across the desk. It hits the wall and bounces off, clattering onto the desks wooden surface. I pick it up again, holding it close to my eyes as if examining it will reveal what to write. I rock my chair back on two legs, gripping the desk and groaning mentally. Dropping back to four legs I set my pen on the notebooks page as if to write, but my hand never moves. Letting go of the pen I leaned back in my chair once more. My gaze roams around the room stopping at my bookshelf, on my Bible. I haven’t opened it in a few days and gilt begins to creep into my head. The reason for my current state of Writer’s Black stares me in the face; when I let my relationship with the author of the world fall, my own authorship of stories falls. It is no surprise, I’ve realized this before, and now, here I am again. How many times do I have to learn this? I’m so dense. My hands drop to my lap and I look up at the ceiling,

“Father, forgive me. Here I am, help me, change me, let me not leave your side.” I bow my head and rub my eyes. “No more dead air between us, no more dead air from me.”