Book Review for "The Chair" by James Rubart - Kindle Edition

Corin Roscoe is a broken man. You can't tell by merely looking at him, but inside, he is scarred from the many tragedies and painful experiences of his life. His first marriage ended in disaster. Both of his parents are dead. His brother--easily the most important person to Corin--has completely shut him out of his life. His antiques business is failing.

Until a mysterious woman brings him a chair--but not just any chair. A chair that was supposedly made by Christ, with some of His healing powers within it. When two people are miraculously healed, the quest of Corin's life begins. Does the chair really possess Christ's healing powers? Or does healing really come from knowing the One who made it? Can his relationships be restored? Can he be made new? These are all questions he must find the answers to, all the while trying to figure out whom to trust---and who is really out to hurt him.

I've read all of Jim Rubart's novels, and this is without doubt my favorite. I truly believe that Jim has been blessed with the gift of writing. There are only a handful of authors that can truly make me care about the characters the way he can. But more important than an entertaining story is the message this book presents. There is healing in Jesus Christ. Only through a relationship with Him can our brokenness be healed. In Him, we are new creatures. Obviously, this is a Christian book. So if books about Jesus Christ turn you off, perhaps this is not for you. But if you're willing to be open-minded, there is definitely a message that needs to be heard.

Built-in Alarms

Anyone with children, or anyone who has been around children, can tell you that they come with built-in alarms. And unfortunately, these alarms do not come with a snooze button. Or an "off" switch---although if I could figure out where it is, I'd be a popular woman!

Here's what their built-in alarm looks like. You've just stepped into the shower and lathered shampoo in your hair. Dreaming of enjoying the rest of your leisurely shower? Think again! The kids' built-in alarm has just alerted them to the fact that they must see you NOW. When it is LEAST convenient. Children that can ignore me all day suddenly find an urgent and pressing need to disrupt my shower. It's never as I'm finishing up. Never after I've applied the conditioner. It's always at the point-of-no return, when I know---and I believe THEY know---it will take the longest amount of time until I'm available. Which means one of two things. Either you listen to their whining, crying, and fighting all through your shower (say goodbye to any enjoyment you might've found), or you zip through it as if you are the super hero Flash.

Incidentally, this same built-in alarm is the same one used by infants to help them know when they are hungry. You're just sitting down to a delectable, toasty dinner (which you've miraculously managed to prepare with little ones in the house), and have been eagerly anticipating that first, delicious bite. Sorry! The baby's built-in alarm sounds, alerting the previously contented child that he or she is ravenously hungry and must eat. NOW. Bye-bye hot dinner.

I wish I knew how to disable these alarms. Until then, I guess I can always dream of what it might be like to finish a shower or enjoy 5 minutes in the bathroom uninterrupted.

Confessions

           They say that confession is good for the soul. God’s Word tells us that it is a necessary part of forgiveness. We cannot be forgiven if there is no confession. There are many confessions I’ve made in my lifetime. Some silly. As a girl I used to pray that Bo Duke was in my closet when I woke up. Some not so silly. This morning, for instance, during a conversation with the friends we are currently staying with, I made a comment about my children (with them sitting in the room) that was completely inappropriate and not at all how I really felt about them. Our friend was horrified that I’d even said it. Really, that should’ve been a big red flag in my face. Because in reality, as soon as it was out of my mouth, I knew it was wrong. What did I do instead of instantly apologize? I did what we as humans often do in the face of our mistakes. I tried to justify it. But God wouldn’t let me off the hook. All morning my comment kept replaying over and over in my head, like a record with a big scratch in it. With each skip, each repeat, my heart hurt more and more. Did I make it right? Nope. I stubbornly, doggedly, kept on justifying. Finally, however, I could take no more. I called my children into the room and apologized for saying it. The ironic thing is that they hadn’t even heard the comment to begin with. But I felt better.
           We’ve been traveling around to various area churches, sharing with others about our calling to minister for the Lord in Mexico City. In the services, my husband has preached the same sermon, so I’ve had the opportunity to hear them many times. As much as I’ve enjoyed the sermons, they’ve also been painful for me at the same time. I’ve had call to discipline my children many times--one of them just today, in fact. It’s sometimes an everyday part of life. And it’s the only way they learn how to behave, and grow. Just as a mother corrects her children, God corrects His children when they stray. So here’s another confession for you: I’ve strayed. Whenever I read about the Israelites’ tendency to worship other gods in the Old Testament, I shake my head and wonder how this can be. The God of the Earth has selected you as His chosen people and you willingly choose to serve man-made gods?! What I often forget is that I do the same thing. The only difference is that I don’t serve the pagan gods like Baal. But what I do serve is very much a god in its own right. Self. I argue all of the time that I don’t have time for daily devotions. You gave me four kids to raise and educate, God. And I have chores to do. And cooking to do. And cleaning to do. And I have to make use of this writing gift you’ve given me. And I really need to get some exercise in, too, God. And sleep. You want me to be rested, right, God? The list goes on. The sad fact, however, and something that both of us know full-well, is that if I really wanted to spend time with Him, I’d make the time. Just like I make the time to read my favorite book. Or just like I make the time to watch my favorite TV show. As much as I loathe to admit it, I am no better than the wandering Israelites of the Old Testament. If you really think about it, I’m actually worse. I supposedly have Jesus Christ residing in my heart. They did not. They had to have yearly sacrifices offered for their sins. I can turn to God in an instant to have my sins forgiven. I can even (and again, supposedly have) have that sin nature purged from my soul by God in the act of sanctification.
           We are only 52% funded. What I’ve come to wonder this week is this: am I in part to blame? I may hold up John 10:10b--”I have come that they might have life and have it abundantly”--and tell people that I want to tell the people of Mexico City about the abundant life in Christ. But how can I do this when I’m not living it? Should God be in any hurry to see us funded and turned loose upon His lost children? I wouldn’t be. What in me is there that would serve to draw others to Him? I’m like a dull mirror at best. Oh, there is some light being reflected. But not enough to light up the room.
           I do not doubt that we are called to minister in Mexico City. Not for a minute. Nor do I doubt that God can provide the funds we need tomorrow. But maybe He is keeping us here for a reason. And maybe it’s so that I can really grow to know Him and be afire for Him before we are released.
           I want to be that person who draws people to Christ like a moth to a flame. I want them to be able to, in a single glance, know that there is something different about me. Someone different in me. And I want to be afire for Him. I want to hunger and thirst for Him that I cannot get enough of His Word and of Him.
          Obviously, there is much I need to learn and change. Please pray for me as I learn to cleave anew to my Father, and that my heart will not be turned again.

My God is a Creative God

I stand on a lookout perched atop a small hill. The air is cool, the sky a mix of clouds and sunshine following a brief afternoon shower. The very earth drips around me. I shade my eyes against the piercing rays of the sun and gaze in awe at the vista surrounding our aerie. Mountain upon mountain--layers and layers of them--all clothed in autumn’s finest colors. Deep reds. Vibrant oranges. Vivid yellows. It is so stunningly beautiful that I am at a complete loss for words. Tears stream down my face. My God is a creative God. These words keep echoing through my mind as I admire the majestic view. Only God could create such hues. This cannot be the work of anyone else but God. Not for the first time, I’m baffled how anyone can witness the same beauty I have today and doubt God’s existence. Do they not see with the same eyes I have? Are they blinded by something? Something that prevents them from seeing things as they truly are? As if they are looking through film-covered lenses, perhaps.

The Bible tells us that although some of mankind refuses to glorify God, the rocks and mountains cannot help but declare His majesty. This afternoon, I have never seen a clearer example of this truth. Although it is actually silent, it is as if the mountains around me are practically shouting out their joy of their Creator.

I close my eyes. Quiet my heart. And join them.

A Storyline Issue

I've mentioned in previous entries that I've been skipping around a bit in my story line. Today I was all set to write the engagement scene. (Because of course my characters get married. What kind of romance novel would I be writing if I didn't allow my characters to be together at the end?! Certainly not one I'd want to read!) And without giving too much away, I was trying to establish a possible time line for this but kept running into problems. One of the crises I've put into the book is a major health issue for the primary male character. It was meant to serve as a "wake up call" for my main female character. But now I'm concerned that it could potentially serve as a major life changer. With a long-lasting effect on the characters' lives. That's not exactly what I'm going for. I wanted drama, but not that much drama. So now I'm trying to come up with a different solution. Something that will bring about the desired effect without completely sabotaging my poor character's livelihood.

I'm beginning to see why the experts all strongly urge newbies (in particular) to thoroughly plan and research their novels ahead of time. Before a single word is written.

Oops. Maybe next time.

On Your Mark, Get Set, WRITE!

I cannot write with a house full of noise. Yet, I cannot write with utter silence, either. I must have music. But not just any music. Upbeat, fast-tempo music does not really serve to inspire. To be really creative, I must have slow, melancholy music. Depressingly melancholy. Y'know, the songs about breakups and heartache. Even when working on happy scenes. Seems weird, I know.

An author friend asked me recently how my writing was going, and I was forced to admit that it's not. Things have been really crazy lately. Excuses and all that. Today however, my husband will be taking the children camping. They'll be gone all afternoon, all night, and probably a large portion of tomorrow morning as well. Yes! A house all to myself! To write! Or not!

I started feeling a little guilty that I hadn't written anything in awhile, so I pulled up the manuscript on my computer and started reading through what I've written so far. Every time I do this, I always find things to fix or correct. A way to word a paragraph or sentence better. (At this rate, I'll never be finished.) And of course, I had to listen to my iTunes playlist of favorite 80s and 90s music.

As we've already established my criteria for music to write by, however, I soon found I was skipping several songs in a row because they were too.....happy. The only solution, of course, was to create an entirely new play list of songs. Which I did. Now I have 3 full hours of all the melancholy music I could ever want to listen to. I suspect that after listening to it though, I'll be in serious need of Winnie the Pooh or something equally cheerful.

No matter what does or does not get accomplished today, I'm satisfied knowing that I'm at least in the story. It's not put away. My characters are staring me in the face even now, waiting for me to give them some forward motion.

While depressingly awesome music plays in the background.

Book Review for "The Only Way: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice" (Kindle Edition) by Ola Wegner

Where do I start? There were many things about this book that I did not like. I read most of the sample and the three other reviews (none of which mention what I'm about to mention unless I was just too tired to notice) and was convinced this was another clean continuation. Alas, if I'd actually finished the sample, I would've realized I was mistaken.

In Hunsford, Elizabeth had only just refused Darcy's proposal when she receives notice that her beloved father is dead. She sets out immediately to London to collect Jane and head on to Longbourn to be with their family. Upon hearing the news, Darcy follows her and, with Colonel Fitzwilliam's assistance, escorts her to London in his own carriage. Once there, he has a most interesting proposal. If she agrees to marry him, he will look after her mother and sisters. He will purchase a house in the area of Meryton and settle a sum upon her sisters as their dowries. A serious choice is before her. By marrying Mr. Darcy, she can, in essence, do what she would not do when Collins proposed--see to her family's support and safety. Of course, who in their right mind wouldn't choose Fitzwilliam Darcy over Mr. Collins? She unhappily accepts the proposal. This is a thoroughly interesting premise, so much so that I rushed into purchasing this book without really finishing my homework---a mistake I will not   make again. If you are one who enjoys these romps in the hay with the Darcys, you may really enjoy this book, as there were many things to like (as well as many romps in the hay).

However, if you, like me, cannot stomach reading about most beloved characters' every sexual encounter, then you will not be satisfied with this book. I do not agree that Mr. Darcy kept lovers prior to meeting Elizabeth, despite the fact that I know this to be a common practice of the day. Jane Austen's Darcy, I believe, was above such a thing. Even in the book, he grew to heartily rue this behavior--even so far as to mentioning to the Colonel that if he ever had sons, he would discourage them from the practice. So I can take some pleasure in that. But still. There's no need to go there to begin with. I also detest reading about the sexual encounters of my favorite characters. I read the book and have seen the movies. I know that there was a love and passion between them. Moreover, I am married with four children of my own. So I can put two and two together as to what that passion translates into behind closed doors. I just don't want to read about it!!!!! I cannot put a stronger point on it than that. Yes, upon realizing what was to come, I should've just deleted it off my device. But I had this perverse need to know how it ended. Suffice it to say, there were many parts I skipped over.

Beyond that, however, there were other changes to my beloved characters that I just couldn't stomach. Jane Austen's Elizabeth and Jane are both respectability personified, who would never even so much as allow physical liberties to be taken with them prior to marriage--with, perhaps, with exception to a chaste kiss. Although, I do not recall ever reading about a kiss between Bingley & Jane and Darcy & Lizzy in the book after their engagements. Therefore, I do not believe Elizabeth would allow Mr. Darcy the extremely physical intimacies she permits him prior to their marriage in Ms. Wegner's book. Nor do I believe Jane would secretly conduct a correspondence with Colonel Fitzwilliam (what???!!!!!), agree to marry Mr. Bingley, and then, only weeks before the wedding, elope with the Colonel! She also allowed him to kiss her after only their third meeting. That is not the Jane Bennet that we know and love. Finally, as silly and irresponsible as she is, I do not believe Mrs. Bennet would encourage Lizzy to sleep with Mr. Darcy before their wedding, just to further ensnare him, nor encourage Lydia to entice an officer on her visit to Brighton and allow him to carry her off to Gretna Green.

These are not the characters I've come to love and admire over the years. But if this version of Darcy and Elizabeth is how the author views them, I will not be reading anything of hers again.