Zondervan Blog

Laura Jensen Walker Sends Greetings

Dear Friends,

It’s a beautiful day in sunny CA today—I’ve just come in from watering and letting Gracie (our adorable canine “daughter”) do her morning sniff in the back yard.

I have to admit, though, that as nice as it is here, I’d rather be in Paris ... or Scotland ... Wales ... or my beloved England. It was exactly two years ago that Michael and I took a dream vacation to the UK with a 3-day side trip to Paris. And can I just say ... C’est magnifique! I’ve been a rabid Anglophile since I was stationed in England with the Air Force years ago, and I would love to have the wherewithal to live—and write—in a stone cottage in the English countryside for a couple months out of the year. Sheer bliss. But since I’m not Nora Roberts or Nicholas Sparks, I make do with the occasional vacation “across the pond” as our budget allows.

Anyway, on our last vacation—which doubled as a research trip for Daring Chloe—we took the Eurostar (the fast train from London) to Paris, where I fell head-over-heels with the City of Lights. I’d actually been to Paris before, on a weekend visit during my Air Force days, but this was different. Better. On so many levels.

We stayed in a small, charmant hotel just a few blocks from the Eiffel Tower and my sweet husband surprised me by paying extra so we’d have a room with a view. The hotel room with the “explosion of red toile” where Tess and Chloe stayed when the Getaway Girls went to Paris was our actual room. And we could see the Eiffel Tower through the window from our bed! At night when she put on her sparkling light show, it took our breath away. Magical. Something we’ll never forget.

There were so many things in Paris we’ll never forget: The ride down the Seine late at night in a bateau mouche and passing Notre Dame while listening to Do You Hear the People Sing? from Les Miserables on Michael’s iPod. Talk about goose bumps. The gardens filled with Rodin’s sculpture at the Musee Rodin—including The Thinker and The Gates of Hell. The architecture. Our first sight of the Eiffel Tower up close and personal. The food. Oh my goodness, the food. Amazing! Nothing like I’ve ever had anywhere. My mouth is watering right now just thinking about it. And of course, the gorgeous Musee d’Orsay with all the Van Goghs, Degas’, and Monets....

When Chloe sees her favorite painting, Monet’s Woman with Umbrella, that she’d only seen in prints and books, but now she’s face-to-face with the larger-than-life ORIGINAL, right in front of her, and begins to weep, that was me. Like Chloe, I had an art awakening in Paris. People always ask me, “Are your characters in your books you?” And my answer is, “parts of me. Sometimes.”

Actually, many of the Getaway Girls have little snippets of me. For instance, Annette was in the Air Force and stationed in Europe. So was I. And like Paige, I’m a big movie buff and know my old-movies trivia. I used to be a “McArt” girl like Becca too—whipping by paintings like I was going through a fast-food drive-through (until I had my art awakening in Paris.) And I hate camping, like Annette, Kailyn, and Chloe, and on occasion—just occasion—I’ve been known to say and do ditzy, clueless things like Kailyn. (Although unlike Kailyn, I don’t love shopping.) And like all the girls in the book club, I’m an avid reader. And I’m also in a book club.

My characters are also bits and pieces of other people I’ve met, and ... completely made up. That’s one of the joys of writing fiction.

I hope you’ll enjoy Daring Chloe and all the adventures she goes on with her Getaway Girls book club. (Especially Paris, ooh-la-la!) I also hope Chloe will encourage you to take a few risks and dare to do something you’ve never done before! Meanwhile, I think I’ll cruise on over to my local European bakery and grab a millefeuille (Napoleon).

And while I’m savoring its gooey deliciousness, I’ll turn on my iPod to Edith Piaf’s La Vie En Rose close my eyes, and pretend I’m back in Paris.

Happy reading (and eating!)

Laura

Stumbling toward Faith ... and Hope | Renée Altson

Editor's Note: Renée Altson’s nonfiction and poetry have been published in journals and anthologies nationwide. Her weblog (www.ianua.org) has received wide acclaim and is viewed by the Christian and secular communities as an extraordinary narrative. She is the author of Stumbling Toward Faith, a personal narrative that chronicles Renée's painful story of the evil done to her—mostly in the name of God—and her difficult journey toward faith.

I received an interesting letter the other day.

I have been following your blog off and on since reading your book which was recommended in a book by Rob Bell ...

I read once that you were on 12 different types of meds and swore I didn’t want to end up there. I have however now tried fluox, citalopram, currently on Effexor, lithium, olanzapine and zopiclone for sleeping ...

I am frightened by suicidal thinking and have one attempt and hospitalization under the Mental Health Act behind me but wonder if things will ever change ...

I need hope and I read your blog looking for it.  I don’t see it.

This letter caused me to take pause and look at my life, my blog, my current situations and other things.

I asked myself:

What is hope?…

What is hope for me?

Here was my response:

For me, regarding hope—   

I am currently in the midst of a relapse.

The book was originally published in 2004. in 2006, I was raped (once again) by a stranger as I left the pool where I was swimming at. It set me back immensely. As my depression worsened, I tried electroshock therapy which actually helped me quite a bit, but I had to stop due to insurance reasons. This year alone, I was in the [psych] hospital 6 times between January and April. I broke both ankles and tore a ligament in my knee about a month ago, which has also been quite difficult.

For me, hope has looked like going a few days longer without self-injury, learning some new way of coping with things, trusting my therapist more each session, and being able to get down and up the stairs of my 2nd floor apartment with 2 broken legs ...

In the end of the book, my hope was still rather tenuous and fragile. Since, I’ve learned that hope isn’t always a tangible feeling of light or confidence. It can be in the little things. The tiniest speck of improvement or communication or relationship. The way the stars look in the middle of the night against the darkened sky. Looking in the mirror and feeling like you actually do matter.

So I might dare to argue with you that there isn’t hope.

There is. It just doesn’t look like it sometimes can.

Life is a struggle, it’s part of the reality of our humanity. We will get better and worse, we may always battle suicide, our PTSD may never really go away. The abuse still happened, and we struggle with what was done to us the rest of our lives.

But we’re not alone.

We’re not small and helpless.

We are.

We are loved.

And that is enough like hope for me.

"Catalyzing Community" Free Teleseminar Hosted by Zondervan author Eric Michael Bryant

I would love to connect with you personally on Tuesday, July 15th at 10am (Pacific Standard Time) in our next Teleseminar. It’s free!

The topic: Catalyzing Community (starting a small group, a ministry, a non-profit, or even a church). We’ll also interact and I’ll try to answer as many of your questions as I can.

To Register, email your name and location to: teleseminar@ericbryant.org

A reply will be sent to you via email with call details and dial in instructions. A recording of the call will be made available 48 hours after the live call is complete.

If you have specific questions you would like to ask during the call, please email me those to eric@ericbryant.org.

Hope to talk with you then!
Eric

Eric Michael Bryant serves as an elder, speaker, and navigator overseeing the leadership team at Mosaic in Los Angeles. His book, Peppermint-Filled Piñatas: Breaking Through Tolerance and Embracing Love, published with Zondervan in June 2007, seeks to move people to serve, love, and reach those who are too often overlooked because they might believe, act, or even look differently.  Eric lives with his wife, Debbie, and two children, Caleb and Trevi in the middle of Los Angeles County.

On Housecleaning by John Koessler

It has been said that all men are messy, and while I can’t speak for all my gender, I know that this has been true of me. Neatness has never been my strongest point. Like other families in the 50’s and 60’s, I grew up in a home where mom stayed at home, cooked the dinner and cleaned the house. Granted, she generally didn’t get out of bed until noon, but I still remember her washing and waxing our kitchen floor on her hands and knees. Whenever she did this, you could be sure that someone would spill a glass of milk on it before the day was through. She sprinkled Ajax in the sink and Clorox on the counter top. But somehow our capacity to make a mess outpaced her ability to clean it up.

Keeping things neat was never one of my father’s values either. When he and my mother got engaged, my grandmother took her into my father’s bedroom to show her what she was getting herself into. Years later, she confessed to me that she should have taken the warning more seriously. Our basement was so cluttered with junk, it became something of a legend in the neighborhood. Children lined up to peer into the windows and see the wreckage.

These days, stay-at-home moms are harder to find. But for some reason the division of labor hasn’t changed. For most couples housework is still women’s work. Indeed, the institution of marriage seems to have a strange effect on men and housework. A recent George Mason University Study of 17,000 people in 28 countries revealed that married men do less housework than live in boyfriends. Ironically, this was true even of couples where the men held egalitarian views of gender roles. Perhaps this isn’t surprising. But it is a shame, in every sense of the word. There is no biblical reason a married man cannot pick up a broom or a dish cloth and share the load. If Jesus did not think it was beneath his dignity to wash the disciples’ feet, we husbands should not think that it is beneath us to wash the floor or clean a sink.

Despite my family background, I’ve come to see house cleaning as a spiritual exercise. It is a good antidote to the megalomania that comes so naturally to me. Like Jeremiah’s scribe Baruch, I am prone to seek great things for myself. There is nothing like discipline of scrubbing a dirty toilet to bring a person back to reality. As I move from room to room, it helps me to turn my thoughts from myself to my wife and children. Perhaps that’s why the sixth century Rule of St. Benedict required all monks to perform kitchen duty. Every Sunday after morning prayers the servers were to gather an pray for one another. When one server finished his week of duty, he was to say, “Blessed are You, O Lord God, who did help me and console me.” After this, the monk who was just beginning his week of kitchen duty was to say, “O God, come to my assistance. O Lord, make haste to help me.”

Nicholas Herman, 17th century Carmelite lay brother who took the name of Brother Lawrence and whose sayings are preserved in the classic entitled The Practice of the Presence of God, described his experience serving in the kitchen this way: “The time of business,” said he, “does not with me differ from the time of prayer; and in the noise and clutter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess GOD in as great tranquillity as if I were upon my knees at the Blessed Sacrament.”

Like him, I have found that the common work of house cleaning is its own kind of sacrament. Not in the sense that it conveys spiritual merit or saving grace. But because it gives me a chance to take up the basin and the towel and serve those I love. And like Brother Lawrence, I often find that Christ meets me there, reminding me of the many times he has done the same for me.

Zondervan's blog occasionally features essays from our authors. Today's essay is by John Koessler, author of A Stranger in the House of God.

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Summer Greetings from Brandilyn Collins!

Dear Seatbelt Suspense™ readers:

As I write this I’m in my Idaho home office, looking out at Lake Coeur d’Alene. It’s a beautiful weekend of 85 degree weather, and lots of boats are on the water. Not too long ago it was Memorial Day weekend. I can’t help but think of Kanner Lake, the town in my series by that name. Kanner Lake, set here in northern Idaho, is as real to me as any town you’d find on the map. According to the story in Amber Morn, the climactic conclusion of the series, the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend will bring chaos and trauma to the entire town. I feel like I should be running through the streets of Coeur d’Alene, shouting, “Don’t go over to Kanner Lake next weekend! Tragedy’s coming!”

With the end of my bestselling Kanner Lake series, I look forward to the release of my next novel, Dark Pursuit, in November. This twisting story features novelist Darell Brooke, once known as the King of Suspense, and his twenty-two-year-old granddaughter, Kaitlan. After a brain injury left him unable to concentrate, Darell can no longer write. He becomes a bitter recluse, estranged from family. When Kaitlan discovers her boyfriend is a killer, she flees to her grandfather to help her catch the cunning Craig. But in order to save Kaitlan, Darell’s muddled mind would have to devise the plot of a lifetime.

You can read the openings to all my novels (including Dark Pursuit) on my web site. Those of you too frightened to read suspense—do you know there’s an unofficial club just for you? (Named by its proud members, not me.) Check out the Big Honkin’ Chickens Club for some very unique products.

~ Brandilyn

Seatbelt Suspense™

Note: Tomorrow, Tuesday morning, July 8, Brandilyn Collins will visit the set of the FamilyNet show "Mornings" to discuss her latest work Amber Morn. For viewing times visit www.familynet.com.

On Dogs and Heaven by John Koessler

It’s not easy to watch a family member age, even when that family member is a dog. I am not speaking metaphorically. I am talking about our family pet, a toy Yorkshire terrier named Luigi. We got him from a colleague of my wife’s, who felt she couldn’t give him the attention he needed.

And Luigi does need attention. Yorkshire terriers, as any owner can tell you, are notoriously co–dependent. They crave human companionship and physical touch. Our dog is no exception. He hates being alone. It’s not enough for him to be in the same room with us. He wants to be as close as possible, preferably on someone’s lap. When my wife Jane sits on couch, Luigi is right there with her, with his head on her lap gazing worshipfully into her eyes.

This trait endears him to my wife, the person Luigi has correctly identified as the true Alpha human in the house. Jane is the center of his universe. He follows her when she is home and pines for her when she is away. If she leaves the house, he stations himself near he door so that he can watch for her return. I will do in a pinch. But only in an emergency. Jane is the real love of his life, as she is in mine. This dynamic, as you can imagine, is a recipe for a love triangle that would be the envy of any soap opera. And my dog knows that he has me at a disadvantage. True, between us, I am the one with the larger brain, a fact that my wife may sometimes doubt. But I am less portable and not nearly as cute. What is more, I am more easily distracted, given to alternating fits of work and television.

In the evening when our little dog is snuggled next to my wife, I sometimes catch him watching me out of the corner of his eye, as if he were plotting my demise. But as soon as my wife leaves the room, he makes his way over to my side of the couch and plops down with a sigh, content as Lazarus when the Angels laid him in the bosom of Abraham.

I am not a dog person. I grew up with cats, disagreeable ones at that. I never really wanted a pet. Still, over the years, my dog’s capacity for canine devotion has captured my heart too. Watching him age and become infirm has been difficult. I find myself drawing uncomfortable parallels to my own journey through mid–life and pondering the kind of theological questions one usually hears from small children. Do dogs go to heaven?

Mark Twain wrote, “Heaven goes by favor, if it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.” In one of his poems, John Updike said that dogs possess all the virtues of man without his vices. But I know that is only romanticism. Sometimes my dog reminds me that he is an animal, behaving in ways that would make the most uncouth person shudder.

Perhaps that is why the Bible, for the most part, does not speak well of dogs. They are portrayed as scavengers, ill behaved and dangerous. They return to their vomit like the fool and don’t deserve what is sacred. But perhaps this was true only of the dogs of Palestine. Many find it hard to picture a heaven without dogs. Yet heaven seems to be lacking many of the things that are dear to us on earth.

If I find it hard to imagine a heaven without my dog, it is even harder to picture a heaven in which I am not married to my wife Jane. We have enjoyed so many things on earth together it only seems natural that we would explore the undiscovered country hand in hand. In Matthew 22:30 Jesus says, “At the resurrection people will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven.” Perhaps this is why I find my dog’s descent into old age so disconcerting. Like the sudden chill we feel at dusk, it heralds the coming night and an unwelcome separation. But Jesus’ example was meant to be positive not negative, displaying the power of God. In heaven our earthly relationships are changed, not eliminated. If the love we experience in heaven transcends the greatest love we have known on earth, then heaven must be a wonderful place indeed.

Zondervan's blog occasionally features essays from our authors. Today's essay is by John Koessler, author of A Stranger in the House of God.

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We Shouldn't Wait to Say Thank You Until October by Margaret Feinberg

It's no secret that Pastor Appreciation Month is in October. That's the month when churches show appreciation for their leaders through cards, gift certificates, words of encouragement, gifts, and other kindnesses. But over the last few weeks my heart has been weighed down by some of the struggles friends in ministry are facing:

• One leader who was riding her bike was randomly hit by a car. She's currently in a coma and in critical condition.

• Another leader's wife tried to commit suicide. She will be discharged soon, but the road to healing will be a long one.

• Some friends in ministry were robbed—twice in two weeks—and had tens of thousands of dollars of equipment stolen.

• Another leader is just stepping into leadership—making decisions, raising up other leaders, and learning to handle his role in ministry. He's facing all the insecurities and fears that naturally arise when you try something new.

• Another leader is waiting on God for a miracle—needing to raise $300,000 in less than 10 days for a building this struggling church that serves the homeless and poor has been praying for … for years. He's put himself out there, but will God come through?

So please don't wait until October to say thank you. Odds are your pastors—and their wives—are living on call 24/7 whether you realize it or not. When something terrible happens in the night, they're there. When someone is in the hospital, they're there. When someone is in crisis, they're there. But it doesn't come without a cost. Yes, they're called. Yes, they've chosen this way of service as a lifestyle. But that doesn't mean they don't need your kindness, encouragement, love, support, and a night out without the kids throughout the year.

Margaret Feinberg is a speaker, journalist, and the author of more than a dozen books, including The Sacred Echo. Named one of the "Thirty Emerging Voices" of Christian leaders under age forty by Charisma magazine, she has written more than 700 articles for such magazines as Christianity Today, Relevant, and HomeLife. She lives in Colorado, with her husband, Leif, and their dog, Hershey.

Making The Leap From Bible Storybook To Bible by Rick Osborne

Some very disturbing statistics show that well over 70% of children raised in the church leave the church after graduation.

When addressing this problem many experts focus on our children’s teen years. However I believe strongly that the door leading out of the church (for most kids) started opening years before that.

Once we are Christians, one of the key foundations for building our relationship with God is regular personal time in the Bible and in prayer. Most pastors will tell you that the Christians who spend regular time with God are the ones that are growing and going in the right direction.

If our children are guided through the process of developing a relationship with God progressively, from sitting on our knee right up to doing it on their own, they establish a habit and a relationship with God that is easy to maintain and difficult to walk away from.

Many Christian parents do a great job of this in the early years by reading Bible Stories and saying bedtime prayers. Where the process usually falls apart (and here’s one of the places where the churches exit door starts to open) is when our children become too old for Bible Stories.

When are children are approaching and in their tween years (ages 8 – 12) the whole Bible story time and bedtime prayer routine gets rightfully awkward. At this point many of us flounder because we just don’t know how to make the transition.

So in absence of good information we struggle to find a whole text Bible for our children and once we’ve found it we hand it over with the hope that they will read it and pray on their own.

Unfortunately we find out really quickly that this approach more often than not, does not work. It is kind of like saying to your tween, “Well you’ve had a few years at school now. You know how to learn, so just get on the Internet and work your way through to graduation on your own.”

Our children must be taught and encouraged to crawl, then walk and then run in every area of learning.

So getting down to it, here are some practical tips on how to help move your child from Bible Stories to reading a whole text Bible on their own that will help to keep the ‘No Exit’ sign affixed to the churches back door.

• Include your child in on the transition process. When my children were quite young, I started to tell them regularly that our bedtime devotions together were their time with God. They understood that the activity was about them learning and that eventually they would be responsible for this discipline on their own. It is much easier to teach when the student understands the goal and the process.

• Make the transition gradually. As with any transition in life, the more gradual it is the more comfortable and successful it will be. You and your child may decide to continue reading and praying together for a while but with a full text Bible instead of a Bible storybook. You could choose to read together and have them say their prayers on their own or vice versa. When they are ready to do it all on their own, help them be consistent and follow up with them to make sure they have done it. Kind of like you do to make sure they are brushing their teeth. Be aware that if you have had quality time together at night for a while, some kids may be sensitive to losing that. Continue to put some time aside to talk with them and spend a little time together before sending them off to have their time with God.

• Provide a Bible and materials that will help them be successful. First and foremost choose a modern translation that your child will understand. Next, choose a companion book or devotional guide that will help your child understand, get into and go through their Bible. Be careful to choose a book that directs them to their Bibles or the book is the only thing that will get read. When you first get the materials look through them together with your child.

Click through to my Christian Parenting website (and scroll down) for some Bibles and companion books that I recommend, that will help you make the transfer successfully. They are all best selling Christian resources that work well together and are designed for this age group.

Growing up, Rick Osborne really liked Superman. Superman did what was right, he did cool things that other people couldn’t do, and he never quit. The Bible is full of great Superman-type stories where God helps good guys battle evil guys with his awesome supernatural help. By telling these stories, Rick loves to help boys see the real-life superhero that God wants each of them to be. Rick lives with his family up north in Canada, closer to where Superman built his fortress. See Rick's full bio and visit his Christian Parenting Blog at www.rick-osborne.com.

Pomp and Circumstance by John Koessler

Zondervan's blog occasionally features essays from our authors. Today's essay is by John Koessler, author of A Stranger in the House of God.

Pomp and Circumstance

My youngest son reached a milestone when he graduated from high school. And though my wife Jane and I looked forward to this day since his first day of Kindergarten, we did not cheer or applaud. Instead, we sat in silence as he walked across the stage and took his diploma. We would have cheered, but the principal told us not to. Everybody, we were told, would have a chance to applaud at then end. I don’t think the other parents believed him, because they ignored his plea for silence. They clapped and whistled, hooted and howled. Some even brought air horns and gave a blast as their son or daughter’s name was called.

I wasn’t surprised. The same thing happened when my oldest son graduated two years earlier. The same sort of thing happens here at the Moody Bible Institute every year. Even though the Provost begins the by reminding us of the dignity of the ceremony and asks us to respect it. Come to think of it, it happened when I graduated from High School 36 years ago. I thought it was rude then and I still do today.

I know what that makes me sound like. Grumpy and prudish. Like the kind of person who always stands behind the felt rope and never takes cuts when standing in line. It makes me sound like the sort of person who always goes the exact speed limit and sneaks his own candy into the theater. And I guess that’s the kind of person I am. Well, all except for the part about the speed limit. I do have to drive into the city of Chicago every day.

“You’re not exactly grumpy” my oldest son said to me as we drove home after celebrating his brother’s graduation. “It’s just that you look….” He paused for a minute searching for just the right word. “It’s that you always look like you just stepped on some kind of loathsome bug.”

I suppose he’s right. I blame it on my eyesight. I am nearsighted and squint a lot. My furrowed brow makes me look mean. At least that’s what my students tell me. And my boss says that sometimes I can be prickly.

But whatever my personality flaws may be, I still think the principal and the provost are right. There are some events in life that are best celebrated in silence. I believe that there ought to be a place in this life where a person’s great achievements and major passages are celebrated with an air of dignity. There ought to be a place where men instinctively remove their hats when they cross the threshold and where children cannot help but whisper.

They used to call that place church. But no more. These days the church service is more like a pep rally than a sacred event. The music has all the gravity of a commercial jingle and the tone of the sermon has more of the feel of the talk show host’s monologue than the prophet’s message to it.

I know. I know. I sound like curmudgeon. And maybe I am. But at this point in my life I find myself longing for hush of the cathedral and the cool shadow of tinted glass. I want to go to church and feel like I’ve been in church. I want to sing a hymn that catches in my throat because I am moved by the depth of its language. I want to sit in silence as the Scriptures are read out loud with the kind of solemn gravity that befits words that were breathed out by the mouth of God.

I don’t want to sway or raise the roof or hug my neighbor. I don’t want to hear about the pastor’s favorite baseball team, football team or golf swing. I don’t want to sing that little chorus one more time. I just want to see Jesus. I want to get a sense of God. I want to feel as if I am in the presence of a God who is bigger than me and that I have been with people who, when they meet together, are transformed into something holier than me. I want my prayer to rise into the heavens like smoke and my songs like fire. I want, for once, to worship.

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Billy Graham, Dictators, and Jesus? by Eric Michael Bryant

My daughter Trevi will grow up to be the first female Billy Graham or a dictator of a small country. I’m convinced of this. She’s such a passionate and strong little person. When she was two years old she demanded the opportunity to choose her own clothes by pointing and screaming. She couldn’t talk, but she could accessorize.

When she was 4 years old, I asked her if she wanted to grow up to be the President of the United States. She responded: “Yes, I want to be on the dollar.” She’s ambitious and vain - perhaps she will grow up to be a politician.

When my son Caleb was baptized after deciding to follow Jesus, I asked Trevi if she too would like to follow Him. She was still 4 years old at the time. With obvious annoyance at my question, she responded: “I already told Jesus I would be His leader.”

Uh oh. That’s not what I was really going for.

Perhaps she confused her words as little kids often do or perhaps she was more honest than the rest of us. Too often, we want Jesus in our life but not actually guiding us. We want Him with us wherever we go, but not as our leader….

Jesus does not invite us to follow Him for what we can get, but He invites us to follow Him for what we can give!

Eric Michael Bryant serves as an elder, speaker, and navigator overseeing the leadership team at Mosaic in Los Angeles. His book, Peppermint-Filled Piñatas: Breaking Through Tolerance and Embracing Love, published with Zondervan in June 2007, seeks to move people to serve, love, and reach those who are too often overlooked because they might believe, act, or even look differently.  Eric lives with his wife, Debbie, and two children, Caleb and Trevi in the middle of Los Angeles County.