Christians Who Write (Giveaway #1)

I'm going to step out on a limb and admit that up until the last few years of my life, I only read "secular" books. I only liked secular books. And yet, in all those years of reading, I thrilled at the discovery of a book by a Christian who writes... I think that something inside of me longs for hope at the end of a story. Not necessarily a happily-ever-after ending, but a hopeful one, an ending that acknowledges that the world is still, in spite of it all, a beautiful place.

At any rate, I've amassed a library filled with wonderful books and I'd like to share some of my favorites with you.

Peace Like a River - Leif Enger

If you haven't read this book, scoot on over to Amazon and buy it. Amazon is selling it for $4.60 right now, and let me tell you: that's a steal. This is an absolutely gorgeous book. Not to be missed. It will always be in my top ten.

Abide With Me - Elizabeth Strout

Elizabeth Strout is probably my all-time favorite author, and the woman whose work I would like most to emulate. Abide With Me is the story of a small town pastor who loses his wife to cancer and has to live in the balance between grief and new life, all amid the backdrop of a gossipy small town that just can't understand.

Prayers for Sale - Sandra Dallas

I reviewed this book a while back (you can read my thoughts here), but I like Sandra's work enough to mention her again. Her books aren't action packed or filled with plot twists and turns, but she weaves beautiful stories and manages to make you believe again in grace.

Your turn. What non-CBA books have you read and loved? Please share!

And now, as promised, a giveaway. I'll send a copy of one of my favorite books to one person who leaves a comment on this post. All you have to do is leave a comment with your favorite non-CBA book. Then go tell your friends! Easy, right? I'll draw a winner on Tuesday at noon.

Here's the book:

Breath for Bones

Art, Imagination, and Spirit: A Reflection of Creativity and Faith

Luci Shaw

Luci Shaw is my favorite poet and this book is her a collection of her reflections on faith and writing. If you are a writer, artist, poet, or musician (or you want to be one) this book will help you understand the role of your faith in your art. It's an absolutely amazing book--I can't recommend it enough.

Good luck!

Christian Writers & Christians Who Write

Spinning off of Monday's post, I want to spend a little time today talking about the difference between Christian writers and Christians who write. If you look up these terms on Wikipedia, you won't find an entry, but I think that it's pretty widely accepted that there seem to be two camps when it comes to Christians and writing.

First off, you have Christian writers--people who define themselves first and foremost by their almost evangelical approach to their art. Christian writers publish in the CBA (Christian Booksellers Association) and often view their books as a way to present Christ to a certain readership. These readers usually consist of other Christians, but the books can also act as an outreach tool. There isn't necessarily a formula for these sorts of books (though it may seem like there used to be), but they usually include Christian habits (i.e. praying, attending church, going to Bible study, etc.), quotes from Scripture, and direct references to God. It also seems there are certain rules that define what is clean and decent in a work of Christian fiction. This means no swearing or cussing and no graphic sex scenes. Violence, however, doesn't seem to be a problem... Hmmm. Wonder why that is?

On the other hand, you have Christians who write. These authors are definitely Christians, but their religious beliefs may not be quite as overt or obvious. Their primary objective may not be to present Christ to an audience, therefore their goals might be much more broadly defined or even change from project to project. It seems that underlying these sorts of books are overarching themes of grace, redemption, and hope. But there is also a willingness to go deep into the raw places of our depravity and present it for what it is. There may not be direct references to God or Scripture, and religious themes may be subtle or even allegorical. These books are often--but not always--published in the ABA (American Booksellers Association) and may include things that CBA books would deem indecent.

Okay. So, working with those two definitions (which, keep in mind, are only my very flawed observations), I have a few questions for you. I'd love it if you'd take a minute to answer even one or two of them!

Is there anything that you would add or take away from the above definitions?

What do you prefer to read? Books by Christian writers or books by Christians who write? Why?

Do you think that Christians should read (and write) certain kinds of books? Why?

If you write, what sort of a writer do you consider yourself? A Christian who writes? A Christian writer? Or neither?

Sorry if this post seemed technical to you! I'm heading somewhere, really I am. Like I said, in the next little while I'm going to be introducing you to some of my favorite authors and giving away some books. The first giveaway will be tomorrow! So stay tuned...

From Amish to Vampires--The future of Christian fiction?

A few weeks ago the Associated Press came out with an article about the changing world of Christian fiction. I could recap the entire article for you, but you can either read it for yourself (click on the link) or buy my one-sentence summation: "This ain't your grandma's Christian fiction!"

I have a confession to make. Until I signed a contract with Tyndale House Publishing, the last Christian fiction book I had read was a Janette Oke when I was a pre-teen. I think I liked it...? Throughout my teenage years my mom had a few Inspirational books laying around the house, and though I picked them up and tried to read them, they seemed really out of touch with my life and the things I was experiencing. I inherited my dad's reading habits: Robert Ludlum, Frederick Forsyth, Robin Cook... you get the picture. Which is kind of ironic because it's not like I had so much in common with Ludlum's covert spy gone rouge, the infamous Jason Bourne.

Any-hoo, as an author of Christian fiction (something I never thought I'd call myself!) I've had the pleasure of meeting many amazing authors and reading their equally amazing books. Apparently, I'm not the only one who has longed for more substance, more literary quality, more raw struggle in my books. The truth is, Christian fiction is becoming more... (dare I say it?) edgy. Okay, I hate that word. Don't know why, though it may have something to do with the implication that edgy Christian books blur the line between decent and indecent by sashaying up to the line in the sand and doing a seductive tango all over it. Is that necessary? Sometimes. And yet, I don't think it's something we should force in our books. But I digress...

In the next few days I'd love to continue this conversation and share some of my favorite Christian fiction authors with you. I'm also going to be giving away some books so stay tuned! In the meantime, I want to leave you with a question and a quote. The question is: What do you look for in a good book? What does it take for you to close the cover and sigh in contentment?

And, last but not least, they mentioned me in the AP article! How exciting is that?

"Other Christian fiction shows growing sophistication. No longer must characters follow a predictable path to salvation, for instance. The heroine of Nicole Baart's "The Moment Between," published by Tyndale, is not a conventional believer but a spiritual seeker; the novel is set in a vineyard and deals with a suicide."

Cool, eh? Have a fabulous Tuesday!

Following

Okay, okay. I'm finally giving in. Even though Blogger introduced the whole "Follower" concept months ago (longer than that?) I've been slow to hop on the bandwagon. I don't know why... Maybe because it feels strange to have someone "following" me or my blog. After all, the moniker has certain unarguably negative connotations. Stalker, addict, and even parasite are all synonyms of follower. Ew. But I'm equally uncomfortable with the less frightening verbal comparisons: disciple, admirer, devotee. Jesus had disciples (not me), Aaron (my handsome hubby) is the last admirer I've entertained, and devotions are for early mornings and late night, solitary runs. ;)

But in the last few months of my blogging, I've experienced the strange, on-line phenomenon that is unique to our generation... I've developed on-line friends. Suddenly, these little posts we send off into cyberspace feel like a conversation, and I look forward to talking with people whom I've grown to genuinely care for. Imagine that. All at once, follower means companion, helper, friend. Your comments, emails, and blogs have done much to lift me up and encourage me through experiences light and unbearably heavy. Thank you. It's been a pleasure.

And so, I've added to my sidebar the sweet followers--friends--that take the time to stop in and say "hi." Thanks for your words of kindness, your willingess to share yourselves with me, your brief interactions that continually remind me that we are not, and never need be, alone. Even in cyberspace.

Have a wonderful weekend. May it be filled to overflowing.

Heart Broken

I remember when my son was born.

"It's a boy," the doctor said. Then she raised that sweet, tiny bundle and placed him on my chest, leaving a heaviness over my heart that hasn't lifted in the five and a half years since. I've discovered that having a child is exactly that: a deep mark on your heart, a hand pressing down that leaves fingerprints all over your formerly untouched soul. You are never the same.

Throughout his infancy, toddlerhood, and preschool years, my son painted himself all over me. His handiwork is a mural of sorts, a tapestry in relief that dips and curves according to the lines of his small palms. You'd think that having a second son would only mess up the already chaotic sprawl of his youthful art, but our second baby was, and is, the perfect fit. And so two children, in concert, have their way with my heart. I wouldn't have it any other way.

But there is one thing I know. I want them with me. Always.

We've been talking a lot about Africa in our home lately. Our non-profit is making incredible strides in Liberia and we have a trip planned for November of 2011. We want to take our kids along, but I worry about the little one who puts bugs in his mouth to see what they taste like. And I worry about the big one who has allergies and who is a homebody... But we had a conversation a few days ago that changed my mind.

"Mom?"

"Yeah, hon."

"How many shots do I have to have when we go to Africa?"

Silence as mommy remembers the Hep immunizations, yellow fever needles, anti-malarial pills, and more. "Uh, I don't remember exactly."

"Well, I don't care. I'll be brave."

Phew. Though mommy wonders if they make needles small enough to stick in his narrow little hip.

"I really, really want to go to Africa."

"You do?"

"Yup. I'm going to be a missionary when I grow up. I'm going to tell people about Jesus."

Gulp. Visions of distance and danger and sickness and strife. But mostly distance. Away from me? But isn't this what I've always prayed for? That he'd have a heart for God?

I don't know if my son will be a missionary when he grows up. But the fact that at five years old he wants that more than he wants to be a football player, firefighter, or motorcycle stunt man (his previous longed-for occupations) breaks my heart in that good, heart-rending, God-aching way.

I pray for my sons, and I pray that God will continue to break my heart with the things that break his. Maybe when they grow up I won't have my boys with me, but I pray that even if I can't hold them, God does. And Lord, let them cling to you right back. I think I could handle that kind of heart break. In the meantime, they're here. They smell like syrup from breakfast and their scraped knees call out for kisses. Their hair is morning-mussed, their cheeks still pink from the warmth of their pillows. They say, "Mommy, I love you so so so so so so much."

I love you so so so so so so much right back.

Beautiful World

Happy Monday! I'm in the process of creating the playlist for my next book. And this amazing song by Carolina Liar is the backbone. Thought you'd like to hear it. Hit play on the YouTube video, then scroll down to read the lyrics. It's a beautiful song. And it is, indeed, a beautiful world.



Here it comes in the morning
I’m just trying to forget
Keep it real, keep it simple
And somehow just get out of bed
And this city is endless
I’m as cold as it’s stone
Yeah this city is endless
And I’m, I’m walking alone

Sunlight creeps in between the curtains
Lose the sheets there’s no time for sleep
I lie, I pretend ‘til I’m almost certain
It’s a beautiful world

I wanna ask for direction
But I don’t dare to disturb
I got a thing with affections
Yeah, that’s why I’m walking alone

Sunlight creeps in between the curtains
Lose the sheets there’s no time for sleep
I lie, I pretend ‘til I’m almost certain
It’s a beautiful world

Here it comes in the morning…

Lazy Saturday Afternoon

I love summer Saturday afternoons...

We live in an "old" neighborhood where the trees are big and the houses have character, where cracked sidewalks crisscross every block and the sound of the wind in the leaves is a constant whisper. We jokingly call it the "inner-city" because our small town seems to be sprouting new subdivisions and "suburbs" at every far-flung corner. But there's no place that I'd rather be, particularly on a lazy Saturday afternoon halfway through a perfect summer...

We walk miles around the meandering blocks, finding treasures in the form of pine cones, feathers, and dandelion puffs.

We bike more than we use our car. This summer, my son learned to ride a bike here in thirty seconds flat.

My sweet aging house wears window boxes like jewels, spilling geranium reds and soft petunia whites in a summery cascade of color. She's a pretty little lady, all decked out in blue.

My yard might be small, but I spend hours in my gardens, weeding, watering, removing dead leaves and spent flowers so that more will bloom. We don't get enough sun to grow a vegetable garden, but I have hostas the size of a Volkswagon Bug. Well, close enough.

Dorothy might have said, "There's no place like home," but her words are my own. Thank you, Lord, for a place to call home. Especially on a Saturday afternoon.