It’s Sunday night, and after spending the morning at my Father’s house worshipping, praying, teaching, and learning…followed by an afternoon filled with the joy and fellowship of friends over food (contrary to popular belief, this is NOT limited to Baptists), here I am thinking about the past week and pondering the next one. Ah, to reflect and to hope! To look back and see the hand of God in all my yesterdays knowing, without a doubt, He’s already in all my tomorrows…helping, holding, guiding me on the path that was hewn out for me before I was even born.
And, speaking of guiding, I would have never dreamed that I would publish a book. Now, don’t get me wrong…anybody can publish a book these days; if you have the capital, the money to do it with. Oh, the joy (and terrors) of self-publishing! There are so many independant (indie) authors writing books out there with just as many different styles and themes, a reader can be overwhelmed just trying to select a good fictional read…or an enlightening spiritual read. How do we know who to trust to take us to imagined places and endless adventures far away…to take us where we want to go, or to places we’ve never dreamed of? Who to trust to teach us, to guide our minds and expand them? The choices are endless. Unless, you’re a Christian and you want to read something that, at least, doesn’t offend or deviate away from your heart’s One true Affection.
Here is where I am going to use my book Hill of Great Darkness as an example. The example being…simply put; I wrote a book that I would enjoy reading. A book without the usual sexual escapades and/or the usual highly offensive (to me) language that permeates modern fiction. I want stories that encourage me and, yes, that entertain me. As Christians, we should be ever vigilant over what goes through the eyegate to the mind.
I recently asked a group of authors what, if any, eary 1900’s or before, classics they had recently read. I was pleased to find that these books of yore were still being read. Books that didn’t depend on the sensual, the degrading, or the filth of an unrestrained post-modern human imagination. Books that told stories and didn’t sell porn dressed up as literature. Books like A Journey to the Center of the Earth (remember, I’m a sci-fi writer), or DRACULA (creepy without the twilight tingling of our 20th century sensuality) were books that I grew up with and still enjoy, um… sinking my teeth into…yeah, I know, that was bad. Books by Jack London, Mark Twain, Mary Shelly, Shakespeare. The classics. Books that were masterpieces of words and thought, painting scene after scene of human adventure or pain, sorrow or laughter. Books that still had the reference (and reverence) of a God that is God. Back when it was fashionable and acceptable to include the idea of an Almighty Creator without apology.
Can we talk? As writers, as CHRISTIAN writers, we still can (and should) write like that. With the passion, and power, and hope of the God of the Bible fueling our imaginations. Powering our P.C.’s with words and ideals that are honest and true to our convictions. Honoring our Savior with the integrity of holiness that has been burned into our souls and not selling out to the masses just to make a buck or two. After all, a Friend of mine once said something about laying up our treasures in heaven; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
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