PERFECT COMMUNION

(Andrei Rublev, 15th century Russia)

I love to sew. My latest wardrobe addition is a calf-length street kimono of black burn-out silk velvet brilliant with peacocks and flowers. It is striking, if I say so myself, and garners compliments from all my friends. Not that I made it for their approval; after all, I myself relish the petal-soft brush of the fabric on my skin, the glimpse of its luxurious hues reflected back at me from my mirror. But outward beauty allows me to communicate to my fellows how I feel and who I am inside. My urge to create beauty in order to be known is a shadow of the creative nature of Him who made me.

God, the Eternal Three-in-One who enjoyed perfect and complete divine communion within the fellowship of Himself, yet wanted to be intimately known by humanity. And so the Father clothed His Son in the robe of flesh that the Spirit wove together in Mary’s womb. In His artistry, God projected the express image of Himself through Christ to show us His essence in something we could scarcely stand to glimpse—the promise of eternity transferred through the incarnation of His beloved Son.

I often think of how Jesus, leaving His home of heaven to tread upon our terrestrial dirt, must have suffered profound loss even while He gained the perspective of physicality. Wouldn’t He have just plain missed the Father in His great stoop earthward? I know it’s not quite the same but I, too, have recently suffered profound loss, although in human relationship. The velvety intimacy I once enjoyed, so integrated with my vision of hearth and home, has been tucked away in a drawer I can’t seem to open, out of my sight, its saturated colors invisible to me for a time. I just plain miss my loved ones.

In Hebrews 1:10-12 (ESV), the writer tells of a promise the Father made to His Son that, by extension through spiritual adoption and my sisterhood with Jesus, has implications for me as well:

You [Jesus] laid the foundation of the earth in the beginning,
and the heavens are the work of your hands;
they will perish, but you remain;
they will all wear out like a garment,
like a robe you will roll them up,
like a garment they will be changed.
But you are the same,
and your years will have no end.

One day, after folding up the worn-out cloak of creation and changing it for something new, the Son will reign as King forever. And I will be there for an everlasting future with Him in communion with the others He has likewise dressed in His robe of righteousness.

Human creativity is only derivative, and our brokenness is only temporal. The One who first brought cosmos out of chaos holds the warp and weft of the universe together by the power of His word. When our relationships in the earthly realm fall apart like moth-eaten garments, we can trust that He who dresses the fields beyond Solomon’s splendor allows no act in this life to go without ultimate meaning in His sight. That locked-up drawer will one day open, but this time we’ll put on perfect communion.

When my spirit, clothed immortal, wings its way to realms of day,
This my song throughout the ages: Jesus led me all the way.                                                                     (Fanny Crosby, 1875)

WIN YOUR SIGNED COPY!

I can’t believe it’s been five years since my debut novel was published, and to celebrate I’m giving away THREE postage-paid, signed copies (with gold-foil award seal) to readers who most creatively answer (at “Leave a Reply” below) the following question: If you were going to Paris this spring, what would be your first tourist stop and why? 

Get your creative juices going and check out Google to drool over the wonderful City of Lights! I can tell you right now that MY first stop (after a bakery for a raspberry tart and café crème–YUM!) would be to . . . let’s see . . . maybe Sainte-Chapelle because of the way, the last time, the multi-colored sunlight fractured the air above my head, the stained-glass kaleidoscope surrounding me like a halo of rubies and sapphires and emeralds (as it did to the novel’s main character in chapter 18). Or maybe I’d visit the Louvre to gaze upon the statues that became the novel’s icon (chapter 19). Or tromp though (chapter  14) the basilica of Sacré-Coeur or glory in the sheer decadence of Opéra Garnier or . . .

I can’t decide! HELP ME!

          RETELLING TIMELESS TRUTHS

Maybe it’s because I talk a lot that I feel my words are cheap. They slip out between my flapping lips in copious quantity, some to enter the ears of intended hearers and many to slide into oblivion. Add to this the fact that I myself often ignore what I’ve just said (causing me to repeat it) and you have a recipe for blather. The idea that my words lack worth was reinforced by the constant shushing I encountered as a chattering girl and, incidentally, still hear on occasion. Maybe my disdain for my blabbermouthery taints my estimation of my writing, too, so that I think what’s been read once is done and gone and should be laid to rest.

I don’t assign this judgment to others’ words, spoken or written. I treasure and revisit the expressed thoughts of my friends and mentors, of strangers I want to know, of icons who’ve proven wise. Why don’t I extend this gentlewomanliness to my own words? After all, the same God of these people is likewise recreating me in the image of His same Son, bringing me into maturity and granting me wisdom, equipping me to serve through words.

I’ve learned over time that my underlying (fleshly) motivation in communicating has been my need to feel I’m heard and understood; publishing brings validation. So I’ve tended not to submit a once-published work for reprint or to excerpt a passage for reapplication. After all, it’s been read already; that is, an audience has heard and understood me on that particular subject, so my immediate need is assuaged.

However, God allows me a compulsion to speak or write not in order to satisfy my own agenda but to bring Him glory.

This has led me to rethink my strategy on recycling work. My written words are much less copious than my casually spoken ones—more closely edited, weighed, and checked for meaning and impact. I don’t write off the cuff; rather, great deliberation goes into the crafting. Why would I abandon these valuable stories to float in cyberspace or (in paper) to line the bottom of some old lady’s drawer?

And so, fingers crossed, a couple of years ago I entered the highly subscribed Tom Howard/John H. Reid contest with a short story that a decade before had won recognition from the Canadian Church Press after its publication in Faith Today Magazine. Along with this vintage tale, I sent in a more recent one that had received the Graham Greene award from Athanatos, an apologetics organization. That is, I knew both published pieces had been judged as literarily worthy. Lo and behold, I received honourable mention for both stories (and subsequently have reissued them yet again through Kindle under a lovely book cover as a gift bribing readers to sign up for my newsletter).

These wins for older work, then, are personally encouraging to me and beneficial for promotional purposes. However, reusing previously published stories is possibly even more important on a ministry level. After all, as Paul pointed out in Romans 10:14, how will people call on God unless they believe in Him, and how will they believe without hearing, and how will they hear without our telling and retelling His story?

Published words, though years old, have as much life left in them as they have truth conveyed by them. Tastes change and trends bring new connotations, so some of my stories need revision. But a well-written, once-printed piece often has more timelessness and timeliness than I first intend, and God’s truth is always applicable.

          GIFTS

Last week I held a little giveaway on Facebook, awarding this red leather journal to the third person who signed up for my new quarterly email newsletter (see the first edition of that newsletter here) telling about what’s happening in my writing life. This generated a bit of excitement among my friends—a dozen of them responded by clicking this link and filling in the simple form with name and email addy. The journal has been sent to the winner, but so many nonwinners expressed disappointment that I ordered a couple more for future giveaways. In this way I’m slowly building my list and am mindful of not abusing the trust of my subscribers; I promise them I’ll write only four times a year (or when I have exciting news). That’s their gift to me—a listening ear. Everyone needs an audience, right?

A regular email list, I am told, is what convinces publishers to take on new books. And I have a book to publish (my second novel–read more about it in my newsletter)! I chose the specific giveaway item of this red journal because it suits the plot of my novel (now in the hands of my literary agent). The manuscript’s working title is  The Red Journal (though who knows what the official title will be!); the Victorian anchor and compass symbols on the gift hint at elements of my plot.

People love to receive gifts, but I’ve been realizing how much I love to give gifts! So I’ve decided to make a habit of ensuring that my newsletter recipients are rewarded. The first thing I give all my subscribers is an e-copy of Wet Thaw, a little collection of two award-winning short stories—so if YOU would like a taste of my writing style, sign on up! Then I also plan to give all those on my subscription list a chance to receive some special treat (postage on me)—a signed copy of one of my books, maybe, or a frame-worthy piece of original artwork, or a vintage item that speaks about a character’s personality. I’m having FUN dreaming up possible items that would delight my readers.

What would YOU like to see in my “giveaway” box? Feel free to offer me ideas in the comments below.

          WET THAW

Isn’t this a cool book cover?

The art issues from the paintbrush of talented Lorenda Harder and is meant to entice readers, of course. But my little, two-story ebook is so cheap (under a buck U.S.) that I wonder if it will just melt into the massive pool of other cool-looking books.

I had to put a price on it for Amazon browsers wanting a quick taste of my style. But my real intent in publishing this very brief book was as a free gift I can send those interested in subscribing to my email newsletter. This short email will appear quarterly or so–just a catch-up to let interested friends know what’s going on in my writing life and to offer other fun, free things that I dream up (mailable art or antique hankies–something surprising).

I’m quite proud about getting through the Kindle publishing process, as I don’t consider myself technologically savvy. (I hear my children snorting at this understatement.) It certainly challenged the little grey cells and offered all the potential for a real flop. I had to design and upload the cover, ensure the stories were worthy, decide on a publication date to coincide with my first newsletter (that was a whole other challenge!), convert the document into a couple of different formats, and preview, edit, tinker . . . It took a while.

In the story “Wet” Beth faces a life-changing decision when she returns to the rainy island of the childhood home she abandoned as a troubled teen. In “Thaw” two touring girlfriends from radically different traditions experience the haunting atmosphere of Istanbul under the rare cover of snow. Check out a few reader reviews here.

I’m pleased with the result–a gift to send interested friends. Are you interested? If so, do subscribe.

          SLIPPING BY SLEEPING DRAGONS

It’s said that reading fiction requires willing suspension of disbelief. We writers strive to weave a fictional dream of gossamer threads and avoid anything that might break the spell we cast.

And so we choose our genre and build our story idea around specific conventions—checking vocabulary lists for children’s sci-fi, building psychological tension into thrillers, consulting timelines for historical fiction. We study the markets and adapt our approach to connect with the audience in mind. There’s no end to the preparation and research we undergo as we hone our craft by studying how-to books and attending writers’ workshops and reading great literary works.

Our method is limited only by our diligence.

Popular writers apply a variety of stylistic methods in their novels—think of the unconventional plot of The Time Traveler’s Wife, the language of Harry Potter’s magical spells, the sensuality in The Picture of Dorian Gray. Generally speaking, genre is neutral (excepting, perhaps, erotica or horror, where the purpose of the fictional dream might be sinful).

As Christian writers of fiction, we are even more equipped than secular authors, with metaphysical resources to employ many artistic methods; Francis Schaeffer said,

The Christian is the one whose imagination should fly beyond the stars.

But fiction writing is not just about creative method, which varies over time and across cultures. Message is also intrinsic to great story; underlying theme animates the tale and conveys the writer’s main point. Inherent message is pivotal to true literature and must be balanced against the method. Leland Ryken (in The Christian Imagination) put it thus:

Literature is built on a grand paradox: It is a make-believe world [fictional method] that nonetheless reminds us of real life and clarifies it for us [spiritual message].

I once attended a panel on which Christian agents, authors, and editors were asked what was more important to fiction—method or message. Did they favour character- and plot-driven manuscripts of high quality, or was theological meaning peremptory? The ensuing discussion criticized the heavy-handedness that for so long defined “Christian” fiction as something that imparted moral lessons.

The sweep of literary history shows Aesop’s fables teaching ethics, cycle plays in the Middle Ages dramatizing Bible lessons, Sunday school papers of the last generation promoting norms of right living. But, although didactic prose has fallen out of favour, even today’s most superficial novels (such as Fifty Shades of Gray) inevitably shout out the underlying values of the writer. As Steve Turner has noted in Imagine: A Vision for Christians in the Arts:

Writing is inseparable from a point of view . . . You can’t write and not have a point of view.

So how do we, as Christian writers of fiction, ensure our spiritual message comes through our genre’s method?

Before we set fingers to keyboard, we must know our biblical material—at least the basic principles we intend to convey—whether we actually quote Scripture or write in the most veiled and elusive manner. Let me refer again to the wisdom of Ryken:

Christians believe that the Bible and the system of doctrine derived from it are authoritative for thought and practice. Christian involvement with literature, therefore, begins with the belief that the Bible and its doctrines will determine how we should view literature itself and will provide a standard by which to measure the intellectual content and morality of literature that we read and write.

Paul the Apostle, grappling with allegations made by legalists trying to discredit his message of grace, argued for allowing changes in method of communication in order to suit the audience—as long as the message didn’t wander from the truth of the Word (Gal. 1; 1 Cor. 9:19-23). Paul made cultural and stylistic changes in the way he preached but never compromised God’s propositions. In the same way, our unchanging message becomes appealing to fiction readers when we adapt our method to their sensibilities.

Great Christian fiction is able to “steal past a certain inhibition,” as C.S. Lewis put it; that is, transcendent morals properly fictionalized can slip by the sleeping dragons of reader resistance to truth.

This article originally appeared in Fellowscript (vol. 32, no. 4, Nov. 2014), the magazine of Inscribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship. 

 FUNEREAL JOY

This morning I attended my first-ever Hutterite funeral. It moved me. But first things first:

GLOSSARY:

• Hutterite describes a group of pacifistic, separatist, German-speaking, religious dissenters from 16th-century Moravia (of the same Anabaptist rootstock as the Amish and Mennonite) who fled persecution and now live communally in agriculturally based, one-hundred-soul colonies clustered mostly throughout the prairies of western Canada and northwestern U.S. I am proud to call the Hutterites my neighbours and friends. (Here’s a set of photos and more info for the curious.)

• Funereal is not a typo but the adjective describing the character “appropriate” to a funeral–generally thought synonymous with words like morose, doleful, or bleak.  The service I attended, with an estimated thousand mourners in attendance, honoured the financial manager of our local colony, an influential Hutterite leader. The character of his funeral was not “appropriate” by this definition.

• Joy (not gloom) was the attitude pervading the very black-clad gathering of cousins, brothers, offspring, and all manner of extended family who attended from sister colonies as far away as Peace River (fourteen hours’ drive). Tears flowed but joy abounded.

So, with definitions out of the way, I have a simple observation: Death brings hope. 

Of course, this is anti-intuitive and I’m not making light of the sorrow experienced by those who will miss the face and voice and wise counsel of their beloved. But what I saw in that huge crowd of interconnected family (though the words of sermon and song were almost all unintelligible to me) was a founded belief that Christians know where we are going when this life is over.

The preacher’s brief English homily applied Scripture so beautifully, reminding us that blessing follows those who die “in the Lord” (which assumes a life having been lived “in the Lord”).

My Christian friends, in this new year (which has already begun dying), be filled with hope that our future is sure!

          SIGNING

I spent several hours yesterday in the lovely environs of Annie McGuire, an interior design studio in Medicine Hat. I signed a few books, had lovely chats with several readers, and met another local author. It was an altogether pleasant day.

Most of my writerly friends declare themselves to be introverts and, indeed, an extroverted personality like mine isn’t seen often in authorial circles. Generally writers find the solitude of writing to fit their natural impulses. Now, I love the focused aspect of writing alone in my home with no one else nearby, with phone silenced and no music to interrupt me, with only the keening of the wind and the kitchen window view of our little red barn to inform my senses. This leaves my imagination unhampered. However, my extroversion needs feeding! So a day with the lovely ladies at Annie McGuire did my heart a world of good!

          READING

I’ve almost completed writing and editing (first round) on my new novel and am looking forward to hearing back from a few publishers considering it. Meanwhile I’m not forgetting my first novel, and lately I had the honour of being featured on The Mighty Pen–an excellent program on HopeStreamRadio. For those of you who’d like to hear me read a bit of The Third Grace, check it out!