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The throne of God is untouchable, unalterable, universal, unshakeable, unconquerable, and unlimited (Norm Willis, 2009). How does this truth impact how we write fiction? As Pastor Norm has been highlighting the immense power of the throne the last few weeks, I was reminded of the story of Beowulf. In this Old English legend, Grendel, an evil bloodthirsty monster, hunts and slaughters men by the hundreds. But listen to this line from the beginning of the story: So Grendel waged his lonely war, inflicting constant cruelties on the people, atrocious hurt. He took over Herot, haunted the glittering hall after dark, but the throne itself, the treasure seat, he was kept from approaching” (Beowulf, 165-169). Even though Grendel is incredibly powerful, he is unable to come near the throne. The throne cannot be touched or changed by evil.
As writers we must remember that no matter how dark a situation is, good will always win. We are not in a battle were the outcome is unsure. We are sure that evil will be overwhelmingly conquered by good. It is only our perspective that needs to change.
Remember in the Lord of the Rings how evil appears to be an unconquerable force. Frodo, a tiny hobbit, must go on a mission that will most likely fail. While evil appears to be growing greater and greater, good is nowhere in sight. As Sam and Frodo crawl up the side of Mount Doom, it looks like they are about to fail. However, Sam in the face of despair still believes that good will win.
“It's like in the great stories, -the ones that really matter. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end, because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer” (Tolkien, Return of the King).
In all the stories we write, we must remember that evil is always conquerable. The throne is untouchable. God cannot be changed by evil. So as we write we do not write from the perspective that God is battling against Satan and the outcome is unclear. We write that good will ultimately overcome evil. The battle is not over who will win but over who the characters believe will win. The battle is over perspective. If one of the characters gives up and decides that evil will win, they are right because through their lack of faith they have joined the enemy’s side. The conflict is not over the final outcome but over whose side we will be standing on when the story ends. If we choose to preserver we will be on the winning side.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
A Very Merry Christmas (based off a true story)
It was one of those rare and magical winters were the first snow came the morning of Christmas Eve and promised to stay until at least the end of Christmas day. During the night Jack Frost had decorated the houses in the neighborhood by scribbling all over their window panes and hanging icicles from their gutters. The air was filled with a biting but delicious crispness that made the boys reluctant to breath out once that had filled their lungs. Tom and Freddy chased each other through the deep snow, hollering and pelting each other with powdery snowballs. Both of the boys had to heave their knees almost to their chests to get their little boots out of the snow and take another step. The neighborhood was filled with their gleeful laughter as they titled back their heads and tried to catch snowflakes on their tongues. They had already erected a snowman in the center of the yard—complete with scarf, stick arms, carrot nose and a grin made of pebbles.
David sat inside staring at the ungainly snowman’s pebbly smile. David’s thin legs dangled from a wooden chair and his feet in their baggy socks barely touched the floor. His back hunched over the kitchen table where he sat as if it had grown permanently into the shape of a letter C. At twelve years old, his body looked as small as a seven year old but his melancholy gray eyes looked closer to eighty. For a moment his eyes fixed blankly on his little brothers wrestling in the snow before he turned back to the bank ledger on the table. David penciled in the amount for the electric bill that month—nearly twice what it had been last month. David scanned the ledger and sighed.
David knew there would be no Christmas presents tomorrow morning. He knew that his little brothers Tom and Freddy would have to go without new shoes to pay the electric bill and his older sister Jane would have to wear her old dress for prom so they could buy groceries. He knew it would take exactly twenty nine years and eleven months to pay off their credit card. He also knew why his mom cried herself to sleep every night. David knew far more than any twelve year old boy should know.
He flipped back a few pages in the ledger and allowed his frail fingers to trace his father’s bold handwriting. It did not seem possible that only a few months ago his dad had sat in this same chair doing the family budget. David has always enjoyed peering over his father’s thick shoulder watching him add the monthly bills into neat little rows. It has seemed like a fascinating game to David. He never would have imagined that it could make him so sad.
“Your daddy is sick” his mother had told him. “He has to go away for a while.” David knew she had been lying but what are you suppose to tell a twelve year old when his father is a schizophrenic? Tom and Freddy were too little to understand. But David remembered all too well what the last few months had been like when Daddy’s mind had finally slipped away forever. He remembered the fighting. He remembered his Dad’s senseless gibberish. He remembered the day his dad had not recognized him. He remembered.... David closed the ledger quickly—too many terrible memories in there that he did not what to think about on Christmas Eve.
Had not been for the snow that covered the ground with a powdery layer of white, David could have almost forgotten that it was Christmas Eve at all. David glanced out the window again at his two brothers who were now stockpiling mountains of snowballs behind their snow forts in preparation for an epic battle of snow war. David smiled an amused smile. He pulled the wooden chair across the kitchen to the microwave, letting it squeak against the linoleum floor. Climbing on the chair, he put the bank ledger back on the shelf above the microwave.
As he climbed off the chair David noticed the Santa Claus cookie jar sitting on the counter. Every Christmas his mom always took it out of the attic, ceremoniously unpacked it from the bubble wrap and filled it with homemade cookies. He already knew without peeking inside that the jar was empty. Something about the fat jolly Santa’s face annoyed him. For an instant David wanted to smash the Santa jar into a thousand pieces. Empty or full, Santa would always have the same rigid stupid grin on his face David thought.
As David stood having a staring contest with Santa, Emma walk out of the hallway from her bedroom. She was already dressed for the Christmas Eve candlelight service. David thought his mom looked like a red and white stripped candy cane. Her red hair, lips, and blouse contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Her eyes, small and gray like David’s, were rimmed with red as well. Emma sniffed once before calling Tom and Freddy from outside. Twenty minutes later David, Tom, and Freddy were all dressed in their Sunday best along with Jane, packed in the family van, and on their way to church.
As Emma parked their van in the church parking lot, David looked at the nativity scene on the snowy grass by the playground. It was one of those plastic and nearly life size nativities that lit up. The plastic Mary, Joseph, shepherds, and wisemen all stood smiling at the plastic baby Jesus. Something about their inflexible grins reminded David of the cookie jar on the counter at home.
Tom and Freddy ran laughing from the car and were delighted to discover that the parking lot was as slick as an ice arena and their black dress shoes were almost as good as ice skates. They ran and slid in short spurts across the parking lot to the church entrance. David walked gingerly behind his mother and sister, watching his feet to keep from slipping.
The candlelight service was a typical assortment of classic carols but something about the music this year seemed to grab David’s heart in a new way. The minor notes of the carols reached inside his heart and plucked at the secrets that David had so carefully hidden. It was as if the music was a special friend who knew all about David’s dad without David having to say a word. David breathed in deeply as the music grabbed his soul. It was so beautiful that is made him want to cry. For the first time that day, David knew that Christmas had come. David sang along with all his might and stood with the congregation as the service concluded with rousing version of We Wish You a Merry Christmas. After holiday pleasantries and greetings had been exchanged with the other congregation members, Emma herded her family back into the van.
It was not until they arrived back in their neighborhood and David saw that their house was the only house on the whole block that did not have Christmas lights up this year that he remembered the loneliness that hung around his heart. David did not want to go inside their little house. It looked too dark and unfriendly.
Tom and Freddy as usual chased each other out of the van and inside. David could hear their delighted squeals from inside the house as he neared the porch steps. Moments later they were back outside on the porch waving their arms and jumping up and down like jack-n-the-boxes. “David! Come and see David!” shouted Tom. “Mommy, Jane come see our house!” echoed Freddy. Both Tom and Freddy both ran whooping like Indians back into the house. David skipped two steps and ran through the open door into the living room.
The whole house smelled like turkey dinner and pumpkin pie. The fire was lit. The table was set with china and there was a piece of chocolate wrapped in bright paper on each of their plates. But the best part was the Christmas tree. David could not remember when he had ever seen so many presents. Tom and Freddy jumped around the tree looking at name tags and squealing every time they found a package with their name on it. Emma and Jane stood in the door way speechless. Emma found a letter from their good friends the Petersons propped against a candle stick explaining the welcome but unexpected Christmas miracle. Emma’s hand covered her mouth and her eyes filled with tears that trickled down her face. David’s face broke out into a goofy boyish grin as he joined his brothers pawing through the presents under the tree. “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” he shouted. David danced around the tree and his gray eyes twinkled in the light of the fire. It was indeed a very Merry Christmas.
David sat inside staring at the ungainly snowman’s pebbly smile. David’s thin legs dangled from a wooden chair and his feet in their baggy socks barely touched the floor. His back hunched over the kitchen table where he sat as if it had grown permanently into the shape of a letter C. At twelve years old, his body looked as small as a seven year old but his melancholy gray eyes looked closer to eighty. For a moment his eyes fixed blankly on his little brothers wrestling in the snow before he turned back to the bank ledger on the table. David penciled in the amount for the electric bill that month—nearly twice what it had been last month. David scanned the ledger and sighed.
David knew there would be no Christmas presents tomorrow morning. He knew that his little brothers Tom and Freddy would have to go without new shoes to pay the electric bill and his older sister Jane would have to wear her old dress for prom so they could buy groceries. He knew it would take exactly twenty nine years and eleven months to pay off their credit card. He also knew why his mom cried herself to sleep every night. David knew far more than any twelve year old boy should know.
He flipped back a few pages in the ledger and allowed his frail fingers to trace his father’s bold handwriting. It did not seem possible that only a few months ago his dad had sat in this same chair doing the family budget. David has always enjoyed peering over his father’s thick shoulder watching him add the monthly bills into neat little rows. It has seemed like a fascinating game to David. He never would have imagined that it could make him so sad.
“Your daddy is sick” his mother had told him. “He has to go away for a while.” David knew she had been lying but what are you suppose to tell a twelve year old when his father is a schizophrenic? Tom and Freddy were too little to understand. But David remembered all too well what the last few months had been like when Daddy’s mind had finally slipped away forever. He remembered the fighting. He remembered his Dad’s senseless gibberish. He remembered the day his dad had not recognized him. He remembered.... David closed the ledger quickly—too many terrible memories in there that he did not what to think about on Christmas Eve.
Had not been for the snow that covered the ground with a powdery layer of white, David could have almost forgotten that it was Christmas Eve at all. David glanced out the window again at his two brothers who were now stockpiling mountains of snowballs behind their snow forts in preparation for an epic battle of snow war. David smiled an amused smile. He pulled the wooden chair across the kitchen to the microwave, letting it squeak against the linoleum floor. Climbing on the chair, he put the bank ledger back on the shelf above the microwave.
As he climbed off the chair David noticed the Santa Claus cookie jar sitting on the counter. Every Christmas his mom always took it out of the attic, ceremoniously unpacked it from the bubble wrap and filled it with homemade cookies. He already knew without peeking inside that the jar was empty. Something about the fat jolly Santa’s face annoyed him. For an instant David wanted to smash the Santa jar into a thousand pieces. Empty or full, Santa would always have the same rigid stupid grin on his face David thought.
As David stood having a staring contest with Santa, Emma walk out of the hallway from her bedroom. She was already dressed for the Christmas Eve candlelight service. David thought his mom looked like a red and white stripped candy cane. Her red hair, lips, and blouse contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Her eyes, small and gray like David’s, were rimmed with red as well. Emma sniffed once before calling Tom and Freddy from outside. Twenty minutes later David, Tom, and Freddy were all dressed in their Sunday best along with Jane, packed in the family van, and on their way to church.
As Emma parked their van in the church parking lot, David looked at the nativity scene on the snowy grass by the playground. It was one of those plastic and nearly life size nativities that lit up. The plastic Mary, Joseph, shepherds, and wisemen all stood smiling at the plastic baby Jesus. Something about their inflexible grins reminded David of the cookie jar on the counter at home.
Tom and Freddy ran laughing from the car and were delighted to discover that the parking lot was as slick as an ice arena and their black dress shoes were almost as good as ice skates. They ran and slid in short spurts across the parking lot to the church entrance. David walked gingerly behind his mother and sister, watching his feet to keep from slipping.
The candlelight service was a typical assortment of classic carols but something about the music this year seemed to grab David’s heart in a new way. The minor notes of the carols reached inside his heart and plucked at the secrets that David had so carefully hidden. It was as if the music was a special friend who knew all about David’s dad without David having to say a word. David breathed in deeply as the music grabbed his soul. It was so beautiful that is made him want to cry. For the first time that day, David knew that Christmas had come. David sang along with all his might and stood with the congregation as the service concluded with rousing version of We Wish You a Merry Christmas. After holiday pleasantries and greetings had been exchanged with the other congregation members, Emma herded her family back into the van.
It was not until they arrived back in their neighborhood and David saw that their house was the only house on the whole block that did not have Christmas lights up this year that he remembered the loneliness that hung around his heart. David did not want to go inside their little house. It looked too dark and unfriendly.
Tom and Freddy as usual chased each other out of the van and inside. David could hear their delighted squeals from inside the house as he neared the porch steps. Moments later they were back outside on the porch waving their arms and jumping up and down like jack-n-the-boxes. “David! Come and see David!” shouted Tom. “Mommy, Jane come see our house!” echoed Freddy. Both Tom and Freddy both ran whooping like Indians back into the house. David skipped two steps and ran through the open door into the living room.
The whole house smelled like turkey dinner and pumpkin pie. The fire was lit. The table was set with china and there was a piece of chocolate wrapped in bright paper on each of their plates. But the best part was the Christmas tree. David could not remember when he had ever seen so many presents. Tom and Freddy jumped around the tree looking at name tags and squealing every time they found a package with their name on it. Emma and Jane stood in the door way speechless. Emma found a letter from their good friends the Petersons propped against a candle stick explaining the welcome but unexpected Christmas miracle. Emma’s hand covered her mouth and her eyes filled with tears that trickled down her face. David’s face broke out into a goofy boyish grin as he joined his brothers pawing through the presents under the tree. “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” he shouted. David danced around the tree and his gray eyes twinkled in the light of the fire. It was indeed a very Merry Christmas.
Les Miserables
So long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation which, in the midst of civilization, artificially creates a hell on earth, and complicates with human fatality a destiny that is divine; so long as the three problems of the century—the degradation of man by the exploitation of his labor, the ruin of woman by starvation, and the atrophy of childhood by physical and spiritual night- are not solved; so long as, in certain regions, social *asphyxia* shall be possible; in other words, and from a still broader point of view, so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, there shall be a need for books such as this.
Introduction From Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables
Introduction From Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables
The Unseen Kingdom
I close my eyes
And say my goodbyes
To all I see
And all I used to be.
I’ve been told
Before I was old
A world awaited
Those untainted
With fear and unbelief
Who trust through grief
Laugh at doubt
Smile through drought.
Only a few see this world
After they have been twirled by love
And captured by what is above.
They see with closed eyes
What others never espy.
This land lies beyond the visible
Hidden from the cynical
But open to the simple
And unlocked to the truthful.
I cannot tell you the way
But know it you may.
It is something you must find
And not with your mind.
And say my goodbyes
To all I see
And all I used to be.
I’ve been told
Before I was old
A world awaited
Those untainted
With fear and unbelief
Who trust through grief
Laugh at doubt
Smile through drought.
Only a few see this world
After they have been twirled by love
And captured by what is above.
They see with closed eyes
What others never espy.
This land lies beyond the visible
Hidden from the cynical
But open to the simple
And unlocked to the truthful.
I cannot tell you the way
But know it you may.
It is something you must find
And not with your mind.
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