The Cross-Eyed Writer

In Shakespeare's Hamlet, Act I, Scene 3, Polonius bids farewell to his son Laertes, who is bound for Paris. The father says: 

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not be false to any man.

Far from the New Age self-knowledge liberal mindset that this quote would seem to support, Shakespeare had in mind a far more Elizabethan ideal when he penned the words. Polonius actually is warning Laertes against a debauched lifestyle of gambling, money borrowing and lending, carousing with women of loose reputation, and other intemperate pursuits. Such behavior would sully Laertes' reputation, proving him untrue to self.

The writer who is a follower of Jesus the Christ, while being concerned about her own reputation, is far more careful about how she reflects Christ through her writing. Whether she writes for the secular or the Christian market, she remains "Cross-eyed"; that is, she keeps her focus on the crucified and risen Savior.

I did not set out to be a Christian writer, per se. When I was in high school, I went through a phase of reading many of the Grace Livingston Hill romances. They were old even then, being set in the early twentieth century, but if one wanted to read fiction that was "wholesome," especially romances, Hill was about the only choice. Even then, however, I disliked the predictability and "preachy-ness" of her books. Nonetheless, I respect her for being one of the pioneers of Christian fiction. Janette Oke can claim credit for bringing the genre of Christian romance into its own for today's readers. Christian and non-Christian readers alike enjoy Oke's novels.

In recent years, the works of writers such as Frank Peretti, Ted Dekker, Jerry Jenkins, Tim LaHaye, Max Lucado, Liz Curtis Higgs, and others have joined the ranks of C.S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien to write fiction that appeals to both Christian and secular markets. Some of the stories are overtly Christian, while others convey the saving message of Christ as a subtext or an allegory. These days, Christians write in nearly every genre and for all age groups. While their styles may be diverse, they have one thing in common, if they are true to their calling: they are Cross-eyed. They filter everything they write through the Lord's lens.

Are you a Cross-eyed writer? How does that affect what you write? Has the Holy Spirit ever called you into check for something you've written or were about to write? What steps do you take to make sure you remain a Cross-eyed writer? Please leave a comment telling about your experience. Thank you.

Christmas Reflections: The Christ of Christmas

The Christ of Christmas
The house is quiet in this predawn hour. Soon my grandsons will come bounding down the stairs and into my room. "It's Christmas, Gran'ma! Merry Christmas," they'll shout. The day will get busier from that moment, so I am snatching this brief time to write the final entry in the "Christmas Reflections" series.

This posting should have been finished by now, but I couldn't find direction. As a writer and storyteller, I had no trouble putting myself in Mary's place. I could imagine her, propped up against the rough boards of a stall, still perspiring from the labor of giving birth, cradling her newborn son in her arms while she examined every wrinkle and pore of His face--the face of God. I could see her bending to drink in His sweet scent and kiss the hollow at the bridge of His nose. I envisioned her slipping aside her robe just enough to put Him to her breast, giving sustenance to the One Who had created her. No doubt she pondered the words of the angel Gabriel, who told her, "He shall be great."

But this was no ordinary baby. With the conception of Jesus, Almighty God condescended from His position to take on human flesh and enter the world of man. The details of His coming were foretold by God Himself, as He escorted Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, and through His prophets throughout the Old Testament. I love Luke 4:16-22, which says:

And he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up. and as was his custom, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and he stood up to read. And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it is written, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

And he rolled up the scroll and gave it back to the attendant and sat down. And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. And he began to say to them, "Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."

The Christ did not come to be a cute, giggling, wriggling baby for everyone to coo over. The manger stood in the shadow of the cross. The captives? The blind? The oppressed? That's mankind. Me. You. We are held captive by sin. We are willfully blind to His truth. We are oppressed by our own wickedness. Jesus was born to die on the cross to take away the sin of all who repent and believe in Him. He then conquered Death and Hell by resurrecting from the tomb.

Two millennia ago, a baby was born under humble circumstances to a peasant girl, a virgin until after His birth. That baby is the King of kings, and his prophesied return is imminent. Indeed, the King is coming!

Christmas Reflections: Nine

Christmas Center Stage

I love the pageantry of Christmas. Cantatas, children's plays and musicals, young adults' dramas, "specials," live nativities, and caroling. I think much should be made of the coming of Incarnate God into the flesh of humanity. The birth of the King of kings is monumental, after all. It changed all of history. The entire Bible--Old and New Testaments--points to the 33 years on Earth of the Christ, the eternal Son of God: His birth, life, death, triumphant resurrection, and imminent return.

At church whole families are involved from September until show time in preparations. The walls of the church building resound with music proclaiming the birth of the Newborn King for three months. It is a busy, cheerful time as choirs rehearse, actors learn lines and blocking, children repeat their parts until they say them in their sleep, fathers build simple sets, and mothers sew or alter costumes.

Hearts pound, tummies quiver, and knees knock as presentation time closes in. The scent of candle wax and fresh evergreens waft on the air. Grandparents arrive early to vie for choice seats, the ones providing the best camera shots. Pews fill to capacity, and ushers scurry around setting up folding chairs.

The sanctuary lights dim. The music begins. The chattering audience, filled with electric expectancy, falls silent as the program participants march in.

Then it's over. All that's left to do is to dismantle the sets, fold away the costumes, file the music, store the ornaments, and vacuum the carpet. But for three glorious months the lives of the church family revolved around that monumental moment 2,000 years ago when God became man in the form of a wee babe, born in a borrowed stable to a peasant virgin and laid in a common manger. Therein lies the true pageantry of Christmas.

Book Review: ISLAND OF SAINTS by Andy Andrews

Island of Saints
A Story of the One Principle That Frees the Human Spirit
by Andy Andrews

Published by: Nelson Books, a division of Thomas Nelson Publishers, Nashville, Tennessee, 2005.

239 pages

"You must read this book."

I took the book from my friend's hand. "Is it fiction or non-fiction?"

He smiled. "Read it and decide."

This is one of the most unusual books I have ever read--and one of the best. Andrews breaks many of the rules that contemporary writers are warned against. Perhaps his most serious infraction is that he head hops; that is, he shifts point of view among the paragraphs within a scene. Such a technique keeps the reader on her toes and occasionally causes her to pause. A writer would have to be very skilled to do this well, and Andrews is quite proficient at his craft. He knows the rules, and he knows how to break them skillfully, intelligently.

It is early summer as I sit at my desk and finally begin the process of sorting what I know to be true from what I merely suspect.

Thus begins the book. The first person narrator is Andrews himself. Does that indicate that the book is non-fiction? It would seem so. But wouldn't it be an interesting twist for the writer to use himself as narrator in a work of fiction? The hook is a good one. My mind began to fill with the questions Andrews intended, questions that would propel me into the meat of the story.

While World War II figures prominently in the story, it is not the central focus. The people are. Each one has his or her own set of challenges.

Helen Mason is emotionally crippled by the untimely death of her husband and her hatred toward Germany. Josef Landermann, a U-Boat sailor, washes up onto the beach and into Helen's life, bringing with him his own set of hatreds and losses. When Helen discovers him bleeding badly from two gunshot wounds and wearing a waterlogged German sailor's uniform, she is torn between walking away, leaving him to die, and helping him to her cabin, which is nearly a mile away. Ruefully, she chooses the latter. At first, she refuses even to dress his infected wounds. But neither does she turn him over to the authorities.

Eventually wounds heal, both physical and emotional. Billy and Margaret Gilbert, proprietors of The Hungry Mullet Cafe where Helen works, know a great truth about life and how it should be lived, a truth that they share with Helen. By Christmas, Helen and Josef are considering marriage. Their lives have settled into a comfortable routine.

One day, as the two leave a store after doing some gift shopping, Josef bumps into Ernst Schneider, the Nazi spy who had tried to murder Josef. He and Helen make it to her truck and out of town, but now Schneider knows that the bullets he fired into Josef's shoulder and leg had not killed him, nor had he drowned when he fell into the Gulf of Mexico from the U-Boat. Schneider determines to finish the job, killing Helen and anyone else who dares to get in his way.

Back to the original question: is it fiction or non-fiction? Read it and decide. Andrews is a master storyteller, indeed.

Book Review: DOG GONE by Eileen Key

Dog Gone
A Feather Duster Mystery
by Eileen Key

Published by: Heartsong Presents (2008), an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc.

252 pages

Dog Gone is a fun read on several levels. First, it is not about a 20-something svelte blond. Belle Blevins is a 50-something cleaning lady with a penchant for snooping. When her friend Ginnie's business, Pampered Pooch doggie hotel and spa, is in jeopardy because of a missing dog, Belle gets on the case. Her investigation leads her from the elite world of registered dog shows into the nefarious underworld of dognappers.

This cozy mystery is made all the more cozy when Belle's nephew introduces her to Franklin Jeffries, who, as a member of a kennel club, knows something about expensive show dogs. It doesn't hurt that he is tall, tan, handsome, courteous, single, and about Belle's age.

Getting personal:
Key did a great job of keeping me guessing right up to the reveal. I hated to see the book come to an end because I like Belle. In fact, I'd love to sit down with both Key and Belle over a cup of coffee and chat. Franklin Jeffries, on the other hand, is a wee bit too perfect. I think he might intimidate me a little, at least at first.