In the last 18 years, I’ve birthed two children and ten books. I’ve written hundreds of thousands of words. So combining writing and motherhood is what I’ve done, in this season of my life. Many newbie writers struggle to even embrace the title “writer”–confusing it with “published author” or getting a paycheck. I kind of got over that in fifth grade. Prior to being a mom, I was a writer, made my living as a writer. I see myself not so much as a mom who writes, but rather, a writer who just happens to have kids.

One of the women in the audience, Angela, wrote about what she heard that night about combining the responsibilities of writing with those of parenting. She recalls that I said something about obedience to the call.  I was delighted that she’s not only thinking about it, she’s writing about it. Which is what writers do–they write.

I think part of whether you have the courage to call yourself a writer depends on why you write. I do not write because it has brought me fame and fortune, because it has not. I write because of obedience to the call, and because, I realized, I can’t not. I can’t not write. Call it compulsion, obedience, or just listening and responding to the call of God on my heart.

Here’s the thing: we mistakenly think of obedience as a drag–something we have to make ourselves do, even though we don’t want to. But if we are truly obeying God’s call on our life, it’s not drudgery. It’s hard work, oh yes. It’s getting your butt in the chair and making yourself do short assignments and icky first drafts (to paraphrase Anne Lamott) when you’d rather do something else. But it’s also a privilege, and a joy.

Frederick Beuchner, whose ideas on calling I’ve embraced, says we can answer the question “what is God calling me to do?” by listening  to the voice of our own gladness. There is joy and freedom in answering the call. And yet, just as parenthood is a responsibility that includes hard work and great joy, so is writing. If God has given you the ability to “make something like truth out of words,” to quote Beuchner again, then you have a responsibility to hone that gift, to feed and nurture and raise that ember within you to a flame that becomes a light.

Which friends do you hope to keep for a lifetime?

My mom is in town this week, but not at my house. She’s out having fun with a group of her college roommates, who all flew in for their 50th class reunion at Wheaton College (where both my parents and I went to college).

That’s right. My mom is at her 50 year college reunion.

Just this past October, my parents also happened to celebrate 50 years of marriage, by taking a trip with two other couples that they met as newlyweds. They celebrated 50 years not only of marriage, but of friendship, with these couples. They’ve been taking vacations with these friends since I was a kid.

My parents’ friends are scattered geographically. They don’t really use Facebook to connect. But they are like trees, with roots that intertwine deep below the surface.

I find it so easy to just skim along, busy with work and kids and life. I am blessed to have friends, but don’t always make the time to connect with them. Seeing my parents enjoy people they’ve known for 50 years stirs a resolve in me–to make the effort to connect with friends, to invest in those relationships. To remind myself that if I’m too busy for my friends, I’m just too darn busy.

How about you? Do you have any friendships you hope to keep for half a century or more? What are you doing to keep those relationships going?

Perhaps in a violent violation of such a human metaphor, I slice. Diagonal discs pile high, waiting to be added to the stew.

Two hours ago, I dumped soup bones into water, boiled then simmered to create a broth. The house perfumed by the scent of beef and celery, as water transformed by leftovers becomes stock—rich and hearty.

Several hours before that, I invited friends. They are renovating their kitchen—but in the meantime huddle round a toaster oven most nights, or go out. “You don’t need to do that—you’ve had us over so many times already.” It’s been a long project.

“You’re so nice! We owe you!” No, they don’t. I try to explain that gathering friends round my humble, hand-me-down table, to eat food prepared in my oh-so-unrenovated kitchen, brings me a joy akin to being swept up in worship; fills me with a quiet giddiness. Such is the joy of the spiritual practice of hospitality.

Though often confused with entertaining, hospitality is a deeper practice. What I cook is irrelevant.  The mismatched bowls are filled with a stew created by cleaning out the crisper, throwing the diced leftover roast and bones into water, adding parsnips, carrots, onions. Whatever is on hand is blessed by the joy of sharing it, of combining nothing and nothing to make something. What matters is not the elements, but the attitude.

My children gather round the table and welcome these friends. We listen and love. We share our stories, laugh and pray. I cannot engage in hospitality alone. It is a communal practice that draws our family together, one that ministers to others and draws us to one another.

We serve bread in a solid loaf, tearing into it as if we are taking communion. Which we are. Here at this table is the Eucharist, the word made flesh. how do we abide in Christ? By loving one another. We connect with the humble root of this word, eucharisteo, to be thankful. Which we are.

Thanks be to God.

So even in a book with readings for every day of the year, I’m often on the wrong date. Oddly, the reading I happened upon today isn’t even for Lent, let alone Easter–it’s designated for sometime in February, during what the church calendar refers to as “ordinary time.”

But there’s nothing ordinary about time–it’s a gift and every day is imbued with God and mystery and touches from that mysterious God. So on this Holy Saturday, when I am reflecting on the “paschal mystery,” I read this:

“It should be the work of Christians who believe in the paschal mystery to help peole when they are being led into the darkness and the void. The believer has to tell those in pain that this is not forever; there is a light and you will see it. This isn’t all there is. Trust it. don’t try to rush through it. We can’t leap over our grief work….Historic cultures saw it as the time of incubation, tranformation, and necessary hibernation. It becomes sacred space, and yet this is the very space we avoid…” (From Everything Belongs by Richard Rohr)

Lately my life has been very “Holy Saturday”–post tragedy, pre-redemption– in many ways and I’ve been trying to leap over some grief work. It is in that dark space that transformation occurs, that death is transformed into life.

So I’m reminded to remind YOU: Don’t rush through it, and encourage others to embrace the paschal mystery as well. There is a light and you will see it. Today, how will you cling to that promise? Who around you might need to hear that truth?

Each of the bloggers on the tour got to come up with our own questions, so be sure to visit the other blogs on the tour to read more of what Frank had to say. Here’s the questions I gave, with his answers. (I especially like his answer to the last question and will be writing more about that tomorrow).

All of your books testify to the fact that you have a vivid imagination. What stories did you read as a child to foster that imagination? Did you write or tell stories as a child? What did your parents do to encourage you in this direction?

I enjoyed adventure stories like Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Lost World and, of course, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. I was into the classic science fiction of HG Wells and Jules Verne. I wrote and told stories all the time when I was a kid. I used to draw comics, I tapped out stories on my mom’s portable typewriter, I told stories to the neighborhood kids under the back porch. I guess God always wanted me to be a storyteller. I also have to mention Walt Disney. Even in my childhood I wanted to be another Walt Disney and take people into wonderful, imaginative places and adventures the way he always did. My parents followed me every step of the way, always encouraging me. They provided the paper and pencils for my comics, Mom showed me how to use her typewriter, they bought me art books and bought me wonderful books to read.

2. Why did you choose to use magic and Illusion as a framework for this book?

 I chose magic and illusion for two reasons:

Obviously, magic would be interesting and highly visual, and would also afford plenty of opportunity for mystery.

Secondly, Mandy’s sudden, unexplainable ability to create and perform such mysterious effects works right into the whole interdimensional, time bending element, the “sci-fi bad guy” intrigue of the story.

3. You write pretty authoritatively about illusionists. How did you research that? Have you ever learned any magic tricks and illusions?

That was a lot of fun. Because Dane and Mandy are stage magicians, I had to find out all I could find out about the magic business, performance, stagecraft, and of course lots of magic illusions. Tony Brent, a comedy magician who works at Wonderworks in Orlando, Florida, became a friend and mentor. He let us watch his show several times and explained to us everything he was doing. He spent the day with Barbara and me, answering all our questions and telling us what the life of a stage magician is like. He recommended classic books on magic and lots of other resources, including plenty of really great sites on the Internet where I could learn about the magic business and buy books and videos.  I also subscribed to Magic Magazine for 2 years. That magazine is full of secrets and advice for magicians, a remarkable resource. I even learned how to do a few magic tricks, but of course that skill has quickly faded because to be a magician takes devoted practice.

Sure. I even managed to amaze some of my worship team by making a half dollar appear out of nowhere – problem was, I could only do it once, and after that I fumbled it. So I learned how to do a few tricks, but I never practiced enough to do them well. I really admire a skilled magician for all the practice they have to put in to make a trick work.

4. Illusion is, in part, a love story. In what ways does the story reflect your own marriage, your own love story?

 I suppose the love story in Illusion reflects my own marriage, my own love story in how love can endure, deepen, and take on such a transcendent meaning over time. I guess the love that Barbara and I have for each other can only be expressed by writing a story.

5. Many of my blog readers are writers. What advice would you offer aspiring novelists?

Know what you’re doing. It’s not enough to want to write a book. You have to devote yourself to learning the writing craft, knowing all the nuts and bolts, rules and fundamentals of good fiction writing. I’ve often heard would-be writers advised to “never give up,” but that’s the worst thing you can tell somebody who has no skill, no knowledge of how it’s to be done. That person can never give up, and consequently waste his/her whole life producing unmarketable material. Know what you’re doing.

Bonus: leave a comment below, telling us which of Frank Peretti’s books is your favorite (and why), and one reader will be selected to win a free copy of Illusion. You must leave your comment before midnight tonight.

 

If my scope remains too narrow, I live as if heading for Good Friday, waiting for the pain, inevitable and sharp. Certain that circumstances will deteriorate. In other words, I give in to fear.

But if I lift my eyes, I’ll see Resurrection Sunday. On Calvary, Jesus died. But the irony, beautiful and mysterious, is this: in a way, it was an act of creativity, genius. A death, but also a birth.

Madeleine Le”Engle writes,  ”We are not taught much about the wilder aspects of Christianity…” She was reflecting on the Annunciation, Mary’s willingness to take on the messy job of an unwed, unexpected pregnancy, and of raising the son of God–of changing the diapers of the Creator. But Jesus’ dying to conquer death is arguably one of the wilder aspects of our faith as well. Mary’s “May it be unto me as you have said,” was a powerful “yes” to God’s plan, even when the plan didn’t seem to make sense. And didn’t Jesus echo his mother’s words in the Garden of Getheseme? “Not my will, but yours…”

L’Engle writes: “All of us who have given birth to a baby, to a story, know that it is ultimately mystery, closely knit to God’s own creative activities which did not stop at the beginning of the universe.”

Certainly not. In fact, “God’s own creative activity” shone strong on the cross. Jesus gave birth to a story that would bring with it the possibility of our rebirth.

Our response to the cross should be somber, but not guilt ridden. The wild mystery of the cross calls for a response: repentance, but then action–creative action. Le”Engle exhorts us, “God is constantly creatiing, in us, through us, with us, and to co-create with God is our human calling.” What story are you co-creating with God? What story are you telling with your life?

As you reflect this Holy Week, consider the wildness of Christianity’s story,  and wonder: what kind of story does God want to birth through me this Easter?

(quotes from Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art by Madeleine L’Engle. 1980, Harold Shaw.)

I’m writing on my laptop, on my bed surrounded by half folded laundry. In my daughter’s room down the hall, my kids are hanging photos. My daughter, the photographer, asked her brother, the graphic artist, for opinions on which photos to display where. They discuss color and composition, banter and laugh. It is in many ways an ordinary night at home.

But I’m aware of the gift: my kids not only get along but also have a friendship where they can laugh together, hang photos together. Their easy way of being together is not typical of teenage siblings, I think. There is a sacred gift in their friendship–a gift that extends not just to the two of them, but to me as their mom.

As a family, we’re in a season of many challenges–far more than I can explain here. In the midst of that, I’m thankful for the friendship between my 18 year old daughter and 16 year old son. The murmurs of quiet conversation down the hall offers a moment of sacramental ordinary, flooding my soul with gratitude.

I’m also aware that in less than six months, my daughter will be moving across the country to go to college. I know how much I will miss her–and how much her little brother will miss her. These sacramental ordinary moments take on a deeper significance in light of the impending changes.

Do you take time to notice the blessings of ordinary moments? The smells and sights was you take that first sip of morning coffee while staring out the kitchen window; the sudden ah-ha of conversation with a good friend; the startling revelation of new flowers blooming in the front yard. Be on the lookout for such moments, moments of sacramental ordinary, and share them with us here.

My article, God’s Word: Our Life, begins:

God says about his Word: “Command your children to obey carefully all the words of this law. They are not just idle words for you-they are your life.” (Deuteronomy 32:47)

The Bible is not just a true book, it is a life-giving book. Yet how often I rush through it, slurping up a bit of inspiration (or maybe just information), then plunging into the rushing stream of my day. The hurry of my life spills into even my quiet time.
Click to read the rest of my article on the FullFill blog.

Of course, you know that God has, indeed, send word to us–the Bible. We have great access in our culture to the Bible–you can read it or listen to it, download it onto your iPod or get daily texts of Bible verses to your phone. But we don’t always take advantage of that access. Most Americans are woefully illiterate when it comes to the Bible. We could read it, but we don’t.

That’s why I’m excited to announce that I’ll be offering a webinar this Wednesday on “Deeper into the Word” as part of the FullFill Alliance’s 2012 Mission: Momentum series. “what’s a webinar?” a friend asked. Well, it’s  seminar on the web. Like taking a class, but on your computer. You’ll log onto a website where you’ll be able to hear me presenting information, live. You’ll be able to type in questions to ask, answer polls, see the handouts/Power Point on your screen.

For this webinar, we’ll be looking at how to study, reflect on and memorize Scripture. Elisa Morgan and I will be talking about the Bible, I’ll do some teaching, there’ll be a chance for you to ask questions.

The webinar will be held this Wednesday March 21 from noon to 1 p.m. MDT. Space is limited. Correction to previous post: the cost is just $10. Reserve your Webinar seat now at:

http://www.missionmomentum.org/?page_id=93

The most efficient way to lead, if you want to be completely pragmatic about it, is via dictatorship. A system in which one person makes all the autonomous decisions is, at least for a while, the most efficient, the least messy.

But power corrupts, and ultimately, while decisions get made and orders are carried out, those decisions are often bad ones. Great execution of a bad decision is still, well, a mess. Dictatorship, even benevolent dictatorship, is neither healthy nor biblical.

One of the greatest gifts women bring to leadership within the church body is our social conditioning toward collaboration.  (click here to read the rest of the post at GiftedforLeadership.com)