Last week, I received some great news. I learned that two of my books, The Collector of Burned Books and The Christmas Book Flood, were finalists in one of Christian Fiction’s most prestigious awards, the Carol Awards of ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers). This was a lovely thing to learn. Lovely enough that I made a pretty image to share on social media. 

Lovely enough to make my day. But it also got me thinking.

The first time I blogged about contests and awards and the twisty paths that God takes us on in our careers was way back in 2012. That previous year, I had two books release–Jewel of Persia in January and Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland (now A Heart’s Revolution) in November. Which meant in April 2012, I had two books eligible for awards…neither of which had finaled in anything.

In that post from 14 years ago, I mused that I didn’t know if God would ever lead me on a path that included an award, for a very simply reason: I wasn’t sure my heart was ready for such a thing.

See, I’m a competitive person. Not in sports, LOL–but in the things I love. I was always the best in the school–but I never won a writing contest, even back in middle school. Even though it was “my thing.” I wasn’t the first of my writing friends to be published, I haven’t been the most successful, certainly not the most award-winning, also not the best selling. And that’s something I’ve had to grapple with all through my career.

It might be “my thing.” God has blessed me with success in the ways that matter. But He’s also made it clear over and again that my job is not to win awards–my job is to win hearts. My job is not to be the best–my job is to do my best and to give glory to Him. My job is not to write a book that sells a million copies–my job is to tell the stories He lays on my heart.

When I wrote that first post on the subject in 2012, I said that God hadn’t impressed on me that I shouldn’t enter contests…but He did, soon after. First, in the year to follow, it was that I wasn’t to put money into it. Then it was that I could only enter one award, for a very specific reason. Then it was a clear directive not to enter them at all–not personally. If my publishers wanted to enter my books in the Christy Award, they could–but that was on them. I, however, would not enter other awards. Why?

Jealousy, friends. Because I knew myself. When I had a book entered into an award, I wanted to win. And yeah, I daresay most authors do–why else enter? But I didn’t like myself when I didn’t win or final. I didn’t like the way that jealousy gripped my heart. I didn’t like the feeling of “Why not me? Wasn’t my book good enough?” Or even worse, “But I’ve read that book and it was not better than mine!”

That isn’t who I want to be. That isn’t the heart I want to have.

And so, for the last 13 or so years, I obeyed that stay the Lord had given me. I did not enter contests on my own. In that time, I was nominated for the Christy Award (publisher submitted) 4 times and won once. And each year when that publisher-nominated contest announcement rolled around, I would gauge my own emotions.

How am I doing? Am I jealous? Am I falling prey to that competitive nature again? Am I slipping into pride?

In the last two years, a lot has changed in my world. And a lot has changed in my jealousy. You know what makes me jealous now?

Eyebrows. I will look at your lush eyebrows and absolutely long for my own. 😉 (Okay, so I don’t want to pluck yours off and steal them, but man, do I wish I had eyebrows I didn’t have to draw on every day!)

A full head of hair. I was so, so excited when my hair started regrowing after chemo, and to have it thinning again on this new treatment…it’s hard. And so yeah, when I see so many friends carelessly (ha!) posting pics of their gorgeous hair…

Old age. While looking jealously at eyebrows is hilarious, this one has really hit hard. It used to be that I would see the old women shuffling into a pew at church with their canes and I’d say a prayer for them and, if I’m honest, pity them a bit for their obvious difficulties.

Now? Now I look at them and think how lucky they are. How blessed they are. Because I want that. I want to live long enough to have arthritis in my joints and a head of white hair. I want to live long enough to go from a stride to a shuffle. I want to live long enough that my face is just a mass of wrinkles.

And I am so keenly aware that I have no guarantee of it. We never do–but these last two years, this last six months especially, has hammered that home to me. As I’ve sat in my pew with tears in my eyes as I wait for test results and scans to tell me whether I’m in Stage 4 cancer, whether I’ll be on palliative care for the rest of what is sure to not be a super long life, I know in a way I just couldn’t know before how precious this life is. How fragile. How crucial. How each day, each week, each month, each year, each decade is a profound gift.

This is a new kind of jealousy. There’s nothing dark in it–nothing envious. There’s no I want to take what’s yours. There’s simply, I want that too. And a bit of Do you understand the gift you have?

I’m not in Stage 4 cancer. I currently have no cancer in my body. But I’m still in a year-long chemo cycle. I’ll be getting scans every few months for many years to come. And that’s always going to be a shadow over me. It’s always going to be a reminder that I might not reach my 80s or my 90s or certainly not the 104 I always joked I’d live to. It’s a reminder that I must live my now with purpose. I must keep my eyes always on God.

And so, this is the mindset I’ve been in this year, as I pray new prayers for those little old ladies who walk so slowly into church with their canes in hand. This is the mindset I was in when contest-entry season rolled around again this year.

The last decade, I just let it pass me by, that directive in mind. But this year…I felt a shift. And so I prayed about it. I asked God, “Do you want me to enter?” And I examined the reasons I would or wouldn’t. 

I had one primary reason for wanting to–to thank Tyndale. My new publisher took a chance on me with The Collector of Burned Books after my previous publisher passed on it, and I wanted to thank them. Do contest wins increase sales? Nope. And that’s always the bottom line. But even so, publishers do like having award wins. It’s a respect thing in the industry. I wanted to enter for them. Because if it could win, I wanted them to have that.

So in the course of a week, I entered a few awards. I don’t honestly remember how many or which ones (how hilarious is that?!). The Carols, for sure. I entered Awakened in the Realm Awards (didn’t final). And…I think there was one other? Maybe? Seriously, I can’t remember, which I think is a good sign that my heart isn’t wrapped up in it.

I knew that the Carol Awards would be announced last Wednesday on the ACFW Facebook page. I looked up the time earlier (and, ahem, had the wrong time in mind, forgetting it said “central”). And then I sat down with a good book and got completely engrossed and 100% forgot the awards were even a thing until my phone buzzed with a message from Marisa (friend and one of our primary editors at WhiteFire). The text said, “Congratulations on your double Carol nominations!”

This is a pattern with me, LOL. Someone else has had to tell me about my finals almost every time. I might have caught one or two, maybe. Maybe. But usually, I’ve forgotten to pay attention. Another good sign, for me.

In this life, I may never fully escape the competitiveness I’ve always had. But I pray that with the Lord, I use it to continually improve and challenge myself. I pray that every pang of jealousy, whether over something professional or those lush eyebrows of yours (LOL), will make me pause to pray for that person. I hope that as I contemplate the twisty path God has led me on to get me right here, I’ll look forward, not to the bends in the road but to my destination.

Him.

I don’t know if it’ll be a day or a year or a decade or a century until I see Him face to face. But I do know that what I yearn for most in the time I have left has nothing to do with awards or bestseller status, even though those things are nice. What I yearn for most is to walk worthy of His call. To be a mirror reflecting His light. To be who He wants me to be.

I’ll be at the ACFW conference this year, present at the awards gala–because I’m there representing WhiteFire, and David will be too. It would be nice to win. But more than that, it will be a joy to be in a room with my people. With other writers who love God and story. To see my agent and my editor in person. To hug friends. To hear people pitch their stories to me. It will be utter joy to immerse myself for a few days in this world that is MY WORLD, the one filled with words and stories and the people who steward them.

And yeah–you can bet I’ll be paying attention to eyebrows. 😉 I’ll probably be a bit self-conscience about my obviously-thinning hair. And I will be praising Him that I’m there. That I’m here. That He’s given me this time. It isn’t another year to try to win awards.

It’s another year to glorify Him with the words He’s given me.

Have you ever noticed how saying “No” sounds so virtuous, so righteous? No matter what we’re saying it to, it has that ring of virtue when someone declares, “Oh, I never…”

Most recently, it struck me with, “I would never use AI for anything.” But I’ve heard it so many times before, about so many things.

“I never eat _____” Meat, gluten, sugar.

“I would never own a gun.”

“I never use the clothes dryer; I hang my laundry on the line.”

And each of these comes with moral statements: It’s unhealthy, guns kill people, it’s a waste of energy.

All these things are true…but are they really moral judgments? Does God mind if I eat a steak or a piece of bread or a slice of cake? Pretty sure He doesn’t. Does God mind if I own a gun? As someone who lives in a community of hunters and who grew up eating the food my dad put on our table thanks to his rifle, I’m gonna say no. And is my Lord shaking His divine head at me because laundry day is Saturday, rain or shine, so that the rest of my week can be dedicated to other things? Again, I have never once felt like He was judging me for it.

But I’ve sure felt judged by people.

There are so many sins we need to say “No” to. Paul gives us some pretty thorough lists in Galatians and Romans, for starters: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of rage, rivalries, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, injustice, depravity, greed, evil, envy, murder, bickering, lies, meanness, gossip, slander, hatred of God, insults, pride, disobedience to parents, senselessness, faithlessness, heartlessness, ruthlessness.

Can food or guns or technology (from dryers to AI) lead us into sin? Absolutely.

Are the things themselves sins? Absolutely not.

Years ago, I wrote an article here called “Not a Virtue,” and it’s something I’ve been thinking about ever since. Because we put value judgments on EVERYTHING. Including things that are NOT VIRTUES. Being outside rather than inside is not a virtue. Getting a tan or not is not a virtue. Your laundry choices are not a virtue. Even reading a book instead of watching television is not a virtue. In that post, I ask myself this:

What else have I mistaken as a virtue that isn’t? What do I pursue, thinking it a Good, when it is at best a “good,” but most likely just a thing? Where do I have my eyes fixed on the earthly, where they should be fixed on the heavenly?

I go through my particular examples–reading, political views, tanning (seriously, LOL), spending time outdoors. And then settle here:

I’m sure there are many other places that I need to separate “enjoyable” or “worthwhile” from truly VIRTUOUS, and it’s something I’ve begun keeping an eye out for. Because plenty of things really are worthwhile and can enrich our lives and our faith…but if we apply that “virtuous” label to them, then we think they’re good for everyone, because virtues ARE. But these things are NOT on that level. They can be good, yes…but they are not required for all. They can be good without being virtuous.

After the discussion on AI after I posted My AI Policy two weeks ago, I was reminded of how this issue has a flipside–not only do we equate things with virtues that have no moral implications in and of themselves, but we also equate things with evil that have no moral implications in and of themselves.  So we think saying no to them is righteous.

My friends, we need to be careful with this…because this does lead us into sin. It leads us into slander and gossip; it leads us into strife and rivalries and fits of rage. It leads us into dissensions and factions and meanness–and lies. Do you know how many authors have been witch-hunted and ruined because of the accusation (not proof, just accusation) of using AI in their books? When quite often they can prove they didn’t–but no one cares about that?

It has to stop. Not just in this topic, but in so many. We as humanity get so set on what we think is good and not good, taking the decisions we’ve made for ourselves and applying those definitions to everyone, that we completely lose sight of the real goal. We create toxic environments more about holding people to our standards than holding people to God’s standards. More about judging than encouraging each one to stretch themselves out toward God in the way He calls them and draws them.

In that AI conversation two weeks ago (and in the last two years), I quite often hear authors I respect saying they use AI in ways I wouldn’t. And yeah, my first thought is, “Ugh. I don’t know about that.” But I don’t have to. My job is to remain true to what God calls ME to. No one else. Because you know what? There were plenty of authors a few decades ago who swore they’d never use a computer and insisted the more tactile typewriter was superior in every way–and sometimes some people turned it into a value judgment. But it isn’t. And before that, in the age when typewriters came on the scene? People thought using them took the soul out of writing.

Did it? Does my writing have no soul because I’m not doing it by hand, on paper? I obviously don’t think so. And given that you’re reading this very-much-written-on-a-computer little essay and may even enjoy my novels (which are 100% typed, I am not one of those people who write anything by hand–my typing speed can almost keep up with my brain, but my handwriting cannot!), I will assume you don’t think so either.

But in the late 19th century? People were adamant. They were convinced. They judged each other. 

Now we look at it and shake our heads.

And that’s what bothers me most about these arguments about AI lately. Yes, there are reasonable, legitimate concerns, and they need to be addressed. But I’ve seen statements about how “no good can come of it” because of X, Y, or Z. (Stealing, environmental concerns, displacing human artists.) And I just want to say to us all (myself included), be careful. Be careful telling God he can’t bring good out of something you don’t like. Be careful calling out the new example when we’re perfectly fine with the old one. 

Because there’s nothing new under the sun–even when it comes to advances in technology. People have always stolen. People have always rushed industry without concern for environment. People have always displaced human workers with new technology. Those things are bad, yes. But they’re not beyond redemption. And if we tossed out every advancement that ever caused something like that…well, we’d be back in the Dark Ages.

We need to remember that our no does not need to be a universal no. I absolutely respect someone who will not own a gun because they knew someone killed by a gunshot. Their feelings make all the sense in the world, as does the line they draw. But hunting fed my family growing up–so it’s not a line I share. The thing is not the good or the evil. It’s how we use it.

It’s always how we use it. And it’s more than that–it’s how our hearts incline. Toward God, first and foremost. And to each other. Are we viewing those whose views differ from ours with love…or with judgment? If you’re a proponent for something, do you scoff at those with concerns? If you have concerns, do you judge as immoral those who don’t?

Is that what God asks of you?

We need to identify the problems, the issues, the moral implications of everything we do, YES. And then we need to address them. Doing so doesn’t require eliminating the things people are misusing. When Jesus tells us to cut off our hand or pluck out our eye lest we sin, He is addressing us, our tendencies, not the things we use to sin. He doesn’t say to kill the beautiful person lest you lust after them or to banish food stalls lest you’re tempted to steal a piece of fruit or to melt down swords lest you kill someone with them.

Sin begins in us. Not outside. Virtue begins in us. Not outside. The things, my friends, are just things. We can use them or misuse them or abuse them.

And as always, we need to remember that calling out sin with the wrong heart leads us straight into it ourselves. The Pharisees were zealous for the law because they saw the consequences of failing to keep it and said, “Never again.” And then imposed their rules on others. God loves when we’re zealous for Him…but not when we turn it into persecution of others.

I pray that we can all remember that–I know I need the reminder. When it comes to politics, when it comes to AI, when it comes to…everything. Because we love to turn everything into a moral, ethical judgment. But sometimes all we’re accomplishing is hardening our hearts and drifting farther away from His love.