Theology in Fantasy

by Roseanna | Jul 3, 2025 | Fantasy, Thoughtful Thursdays

How to Pick Your Fantasy World

When I decided to write a fantasy, the first thing to decide was this: Do I set it in a purely fictional world, or one based on our own?

Most go the “completely fictional” route. And I can appreciate that, absolutely. I can appreciate that then, all the theology is allegorical or else assuming that God will have made a way of salvation for these other worlds and people too, and would make himself known to them.

I love that method and will likely use it for some future books. But it just wasn’t how Awakened came to me. The entire premise began for me as a “What if…?” in our world. What if Christ delayed in returning, what if the world suffered through a Great Cataclysm, what if God sent gifts to help mankind claw its way out of a new dark age?

I knew as I created this world, with its Christianity still intact (but in which language had changed here and there), that there would be those who loved it and those who hated it. I did it anyway because that was how the story unfolded for me, and while I will absolutely change most things about a story in edits to make it better, there are always key, core things that I do not change from the way they came to me, not unless God makes it very clear to me that I should.

But I’ve received some feedback from some concerned readers about some of the things in this story, so I wanted to take a moment to address them…without giving anything away. 😉

Theology in the World of the Awakened

Blood Ceremonies

First of all, there is a blood ceremony that’s critical to the society, how the “magic” (which is a combination of “ancient” nanotechnology and gift from God) is Awakened. One reader pointed out in dismay that the Bible forbids blood ceremonies, so why would I choose to do that?

My response is that we should always ask why God forbids something. In the case of blood, He makes it clear: Life is in the blood. That’s why the Israelites were strictly told not to consume blood…and it’s also why it was such a key part of Israelite sacrifice, where blood was sprinkled on the altar and out over the people as well. Blood was in fact KEY to ceremonies, but it had to be done in proper form by the correct people in order to not be an abomination. It was to be treated with respect and dignity, and when NOT treated in that proper way, it would make one unclean.

From my childhood and teen days onward, I have been drawn in my thoughts over and again to the power of Christ’s BLOOD. A Stray Drop of Blood, my debut novel set around the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, explores this when a drop of His blood lands on my heroine and changes her forever.

Blood is powerful. So powerful that Jesus, in John 6, shakes his listeners’ minds and hearts when He tells them they MUST do what was strictly forbidden to them–they must DRINK HIS BLOOD and EAT HIS FLESH. This was earth-rocking, friends. This was in direct contradiction to the Law. Or rather…to their understanding of it. As followers of Christ, we know that as the perfect, eternal sacrifice, He fulfilled that Law and was that lamb, slain for us all. And His blood? I fully believe in transubstantiation–it’s what drew me to the Catholic church. I do not believe communion is symbolic, because Christ was very, very clear in His way of speaking of it. He did something miraculous, and He offered His blood as salvation to us all.

This is why I chose to use blood as the means by which “magic”–remember, gift directly from God in my world–is brought forth. It’s this God-given power that became a physical salvation for people in the days following this cataclysm, and that’s meant to be symbolic of eternal salvation as well…which comes from His blood. “Blood ceremonies” are only forbidden when they are in opposition to God’s will and use for blood. They were in fact ALWAYS a key part of Israelite tradition in the days of the tabernacle and temple, and are also the key part of Christian tradition as well, through communion.

Next, angels.

Angelic Beings

Without spoiling things, let’s just say that in the world of the Awakened, it is posited that the method by which God gave His gift of “magic” to humanity involved a few select angels taking on human flesh, marrying humans, and creating offspring.

Now. Yes. I know that Genesis 6 says this is an abomination. Sort of.

Here are the verses in question:

When people began to multiply on the face of the ground, and daughters were born to them, ²the sons of God saw that they were fair; and they took wives for themselves of all that they chose. ³Then the Lord said, ‘My spirit shall not abide in mortals for ever, for they are flesh; their days shall be one hundred and twenty years.’ ⁴The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterwards—when the sons of God went in to the daughters of humans, who bore children to them. These were the heroes that were of old, warriors of renown.

So, first…most Church Fathers did not read this as talking about angels. The traditional view is, in fact, that angels are beings of pure spirit and could not procreate with men, as they are of completely different substance. The traditional reading of these verses is that “sons of God” referred to the righteous offspring of Seth and “daughters of humans” were the offspring of wicked Cain. If this is the proper reading, then the problem is not mixing with angels but mixing with the unrighteous people who had turned their backs on God.

I find this 100% reasonable. In the real world, I think that’s likely a sound interpretation, even if it wasn’t my own original reading. The plain text can definitely be read as “angels,” though I absolutely get why many/most theologians decided it wasn’t the only or perhaps best way to read it.

But.

But. Then we have the Book of Enoch.

Let’s be clear. The Book of Enoch is not Scripture. BUT…Paul did refer to it in the book of Jude in a way that hints that he considered it a relevant prophecy. And taking Enoch into account would change everything about how Genesis 6 is read.

If you’re not familiar with this ancient text, it was known of but lost to history until the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered and a copy was found in them. It provides more information about those early days leading up to Noah, written by Enoch, Noah’s great-grandfather and known to us as the man who “walked with God and then was no more,” implying that God caught him up into heaven without him first tasting death.

In Enoch, chapters 6-9, we get an expanded story of these “sons of God” and “daughters of men.” In this version, it states explicitly that they were angels, and that there were 200 hundred of them who decided to do this evil thing and swore an oath together, so that only one wouldn’t take the blame. They chose human women, took them as wives, and sired children.

But that’s not the only thing they did. They also taught these humans things they weren’t supposed to, and the list is as follows:

charms
enchantments
the cutting of roots
familiarity with plants
how to make swords, knives, shields, and armor
metallurgy, including how to use antimony (which hardens other metals)
cosmetics
gemology
dyes and paints
astronomy and astrology
meteorology
understanding the signs of the earth
understanding the signs of the sun
understanding the course of the moon

Take a look at that list. While it includes things like charms and enchantments that we identify with witchcraft, it also includes things that are the foundational elements of what we call “culture.” The basics of art, of medicine, of all fields of science, of technology.

Were these things the sins? Is it an affront to God every time we look at storm clouds gathering and say, “Huh, looks like rain”? When we calculate when the moon will be full or new? When we chop our root vegetables with knives? Or take a cutting from one plant to grow another? Wear jewelry? Dye fabric?

Obviously not. If God simply hated these things and didn’t want mankind to have them at all, He certainly wouldn’t have sent His Spirit to fill the craftsmen creating the Ark of the Covenant and tabernacle with knowledge and skill of these very things, and the ability to teach it. So what was the sin here? What qualifies as the abomination?

I posit that it was disobedience that was the true crime. That these creatures acted without permission, without instruction. They chose their will above His will.

God, being God, could have stopped them, just as He could (but does not usually choose to) stop humans in our sins. He chose, instead, to let them give their gifts to humankind, even if it was out of turn. And when He soon after sent the flood, that flood did not wipe out the knowledge these angels brought with them. Did it wipe out their bloodline? We can assume that it did, but we can’t actually know, because it doesn’t ever tell us. For all we know, a bit of it could have been preserved in one of Noah’s daughters-in-law, and that could have been allowed for a purpose of God’s that He didn’t make explicit to us. This is 100% pure speculation, and again, based on a text that isn’t Scriptural…but which is the only text that makes explicit what “Nephilim” (the race of people descended from these angels-and-humans) are. Again, the traditional reading of Genesis was that “sons of God” were not angels, and that “Nephilim” should not be interpreted as “human-angel-hybrid” but rather its other definitions of “tyrant” or “powerful person.”

Reasonable…but not as interesting, right? 😉 I know when I read those verses as a young woman, my mind went immediately to the more supernatural reading, and for the sake of a fantasy novel, I found that more fascinating to explore.

So if the angelic reading is what Genesis 6 means (and again, I’m NOT saying it is, it’s just a fun “what if” to play with), then who’s to say God wouldn’t, at some point in time, will this thing He didn’t will then? That He wouldn’t have instructed angels to come and give of their blood to mankind? And if your answer is “God doesn’t change His mind,” that’s a blatant lie–or at least, it is from our perspective.

God sent a plague to wipe out the children of Israel who were taking wives from among the pagans as they wandered in the wilderness.

God also instructed someone to marry Rahab, a pagan prostitute, and she’s in the lineage of Christ. And this happened very soon after that above-mentioned plague. As in, the plague cleansed the camp of the unfaithful right before they began their final march to the Promised Land, which led them to Jericho. (The “But…!” will be explored momentarily.)

God told the Israelites not to eat unclean food.

God also told Peter that He’d made all foods clean now.

God abhors dishonesty and lies.

God sent a lying spirit to the prophets of Ahab in 1 Kings 22, to convince him to do something.

I could go on, but I think you get the point. God’s Word is not stagnant, it is living. I nearly wrote “it adapts to different circumstances,” but that’s not quite right, is it? Circumstances are subject to it. HE IS the Word. HE IS the Law. HE IS the definition of right and wrong. So while we might occasionally not understand why something is blessed in one circumstance and not in another, we can trust that it makes sense from His heavenly perspective and assume it is not, in fact, a contradiction…but we cannot deny that He gives these seemingly-contradictory instructions.

The Rahab example makes that clear, doesn’t it? Those other pagan women, they were bringing their idols into the Israelite camp with them, they hadn’t forsaken their gods. Rahab, however, did. She chose obedience to God above her own people. And so, she received the gift of being grafted into the family of God.

So if (again, yes, big IF) God were to decide to send angels to earth for this purpose, in order to bestow something new on humanity, this is neither God changing nor a sin. This is God saying, “NOW is the time I intended it. Not before, not after. NOW. Who will obey?” Much like God chose to call clean what He’d previously called unclean.

Why Did I Choose to Write the Story This Way?

In part, because of trends in the general market romantasy space. Now, hear me out.

In some very, very popular books, we see all sorts of magical and supernatural creatures, including angels. Including, even, the specific types of angels mentioned in the Bible. But in these stories, these characters are as fallible as humans, as given to lusts, as perverse, as self-serving. They are power-hungry and sinful.

Friends, this is the image the world is consuming about what a seraph or cherub or other angel is.

And it’s a striking resemblance to what the versions talked about in Enoch are. But we know their true name. They are fallen angels. They are demons. They are creatures of awe-inspiring power who chose their own will above God’s will.

But they were the minority. And there are other creatures of the same substance who chose instead to align their will perfectly to God’s. These are the angels who remained in heaven. Who are God’s messengers to us on earth. Who fight for us, alongside us, who go to war with the fallen.

I wanted to show this. That where, if Enoch is true, some angels in the beginning days did this thing in a way that was an abomination, it would look very, very different if God were the architect of the unions. If God were the direct Giver of the gifts. That what could be a curse upon us, when stolen, can be a blessing when given rightly.

Because this, my friends, is how God has shown himself to work time after time, year after year, epoch after epoch. When we take against His instruction, as Adam and Eve did in the Garden, we receive a Curse. But did He never give knowledge of good and evil? Is that not in fact discernment, one of the Gifts of the Spirit? Did He not give it to Daniel? Even to Solomon (who then misused it)?

In my Awakened world, my prayer was that through the words of these angelic characters, we can in fact get a glimpse of what true submission to His divine will looks like.

It looks like sacrifice.
It looks like selflessness.
It looks like love.
It looks like purpose.

Now, if you still have a problem with the theology in these fantasy novels…that’s fine. 😉 I do invite you to remember that this is not just FICTION, but FANTASY. I’m assuming things that it is utterly ridiculous to assume. Things that seem contradictory to some ways of reading Scripture (but which are not necessarily, when you dig deeper into passages that are incredibly mysterious and look at reasons, not just instructions). I hope I’ve at least explained why I started from these perspectives, and of course I hope that you can enjoy the story as pure fiction. But if you can’t, I understand that too. Skip the series. That’s okay.

Thank You, Readers!

And thank you, my lovely readers, for always being willing to reach out to me when I present in my fiction something that gives you pause. I’m certainly not infallible, and chances are I’ve unintentionally messed up fine points of theology before and will do so again. I appreciate your care for me and for my understanding and your willingness to engage rather than judge. In this particular case, I hope my explanation proves that I was not dismissing Scripture, but rather digging to the “why” of very mystical texts in ways that I am not saying are really true, but which make for a fun story. Is it speculative? Fantastical? Yep. By its very definition. But I do not believe these interpretations are heretical. Simply…implausible. 😉

Now just wait until I tell you how I once read Revelation as science fiction and imagined the New Jerusalem that was descending as a spaceship… 😉

Purpose and Legacy

by Roseanna | Jun 19, 2025 | Thoughtful Thursdays

A couple weeks ago, my daughter and I were driving out to meet my parents and grandmother for lunch, and we were talking about what Xoe might want to do after college. She still dreams of writing and illustrating, yes, but she knows it could take a while for that to pay the bills. And, she said, her Bible study group had been talking a lot about making sure what they choose to do matters. That whatever profession they pursue, it’s a service to others.

I smiled to hear her saying this, because it’s something David and I have talked about endlessly over the years. (I didn’t point out that she’s no doubt heard us talking about this approximately a thousand times, LOL. I totally get she has to encounter it for herself, in her own life, in her own way, and make it her own through that encounter.)

As we drove, we talked through how the path she’s considering–linguistics–indeed is (or can be) a huge service, how it can make a difference. How important communication and understanding really is.

That evening, as David and I were driving to a book study at church, I relayed bits of my conversation with Xoe, and he added to it a question he’d just heard on a podcast that day. A question that neither of us had ever thought to ask before about our businesses:

“Where do you see your business being in three hundred years.”

That one got a pause from me, I’ll admit it. I was expecting three years. Maybe even thirty. But three hundred? Wow. That’s a scope I’d never considered. How many businesses even make it that long?

But it’s a question that makes the mind start spinning, isn’t it?

In three hundred years, will we, all our work, be forgotten? Or will we have made a lasting impression on the world? Obviously we aren’t all going to participate in country-shaping events or become national heroes or set records that will still be set then. But are we building legacies that last, doing service that will make a mark?

Honestly, we haven’t yet talked through what that would mean for our company, but given that we work in books, it’s a concept worth exploring. Books can last long beyond the writers go home to be with the Lord. Our words, our thoughts, the stories that have shaped our hearts can continue to shape others. If.

If.

If they’re stories that continue to resonate. If they elucidate a truth that can shine through the darkness for ages to come. If we speak to the unchanging heart of humanity.

Will any of our books outlast us that long? Any of mine? Will our company live on after we do? I don’t know.

But it’s worth working for. Worth writing for. Worth reading for.

I don’t write the books I do so that future generations will read them–honestly, I have no idea if my books will continue to be of interest to people in decades or centuries to come. So many are being published these days, mine are just a few among many. One voice in a multitude. I believe that voice matters, and I will follow the call of the Lord to use it, to keep sharing the stories He gives me.

And I will give them my all. I will make them the best I can. I will strive, always, to share His truth–because that is what lasts decades, centuries, millennia. My deepest prayer is to partake of that, of Him.

The day after those conversations with Xoe and David, we had a power outage in the evening. Two different people that week had mentioned reading and loving The Shadow’s Song, one of my biblicals for Guideposts that came out a couple years ago. I couldn’t honestly remember much of the book–I hadn’t read it since I first turned it in. So, with nothing else I could really do but with a fully-charged laptop battery, I opened up my file and started reading.

This was a book I wrote quickly, as one of many due that year. It’s short. Didn’t take me long to read. But as I read it, I had so many moments where I thought, “Wow, that was really insightful. Whoa, I didn’t even remember that. Hey, this is actually really good.” LOL. Silly, I know, for one of my own books…but important. Important to remind myself that even these quick little stories that I write in the course of a week mean something. They still have my heart in them and, more importantly, seek the Lord’s.

That’s what I have to make sure everything does. All the work of my hands. All the work of my mind. All the work of my soul. Only when it points to Him is it worthy. Only then will it stand the test of time.

Everything we do needs to have that purpose. And that is when we know we’ll leave a legacy behind us.

Rearranged

by Roseanna | Jun 12, 2025 | Thoughtful Thursdays

When I was a kid, there was little I enjoyed more than rearranging spaces. There was only so much I could do on my own, of course, but as I got bigger, I loved extending it to furniture, not just toys. I couldn’t tell you how many times my mom and I shoved couches and chairs around in the living room…sometimes for a purpose, but often just because we were ready for a change.

As an adult with more things than room to put them in, I don’t rearrange as often, it’s true. But I still do for Christmas, to make room for the tree, or when I just can’t handle a current arrangement anymore.

A few weeks ago, our daughter Xoe came home from college for the summer. We love having her home, obviously, but it does mean that my lease on her room for my office expires for the summer, LOL, so I have to move back out to the tiny little desk in the kitchen that I’m pretty sure was meant for a ten year old.

I’ll be honest, guys. This area was a MESS. Yes, it deserves both capitals and italics. Total, complete mess. The desk had become the catch-all for mail and some of my work stuff that I carried out on Spring Break and then never did anything with. Under the desk, all my cloth shopping bags had been shoved in what began with order but had become haphazard. In front of the desk were a myriad of “good boxes” that we hadn’t thrown out yet, plumbing supplies from where my husband had just finished fixing the sink but hadn’t yet gotten around to storing the things again, and various new purchases that hadn’t yet found their home.

Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly looking forward to tackling it…and yet I couldn’t wait to tackle it.

So while David drove down to Annapolis to fetch Xoe and her dorm room, I stayed home to clear out of her bedroom and make space for myself again in the kitchen.

I started, oddly, not in the kitchen at all, but in the utility closet. Since we moved into this house, that utility closet had been dubbed “the cat room.” It housed the litter boxes, in addition to the water heater and softener and various other utility things. We’d at first hung some coats in there but quickly learned that coat rack + cat litter = dusty clothes no one wanted to wear. But it’s so out-of-sight that I pretty much forgot they were even in there, so yes, we still had coats hanging from ten years ago. Well, now that we are pet-less, I decided it was time to put this space to different use. I emptied the litter boxes, cleaned them, and stored them. Used some of the enzyme cleaner on the floors and walls. Took down those way-outgrown coats and gave them a nice washing so I could donate them. And then I began repurposing the space. Moved in all the tools and equipment just sitting around the laundry area and in the kitchen. Threw out all those boxes I didn’t need.

Doing that kind of work isn’t exactly fun, but it feels…restorative. Doesn’t it? And if we can find such satisfaction in clearing out our physical spaces, just imagine how we should feel when we do it in our spiritual lives too.

I don’t know about you, but I tend to let habits pile up. I let prejudices just sit there in their corners, rarely even noticing them anymore. I ignore the dust clouds of bias and judgment as they coat my heart. And sin? Yep, sin has a way of just creeping in and permeating, like the stink from who-knows-what in the back of the fridge or the “let’s not try to identify it” stain near where the litter boxes had been.

In our homes, our spaces, we can see these things. In our hearts? Our minds? Our souls? Maybe they’re less visible at a glance. But that doesn’t meant they’re not there. We just need the eyes to see them.

But we get used to the way things are. Have you ever noticed that? Once something is in one place for a while, we don’t see it anymore. It becomes background noise. We may even be perfectly happy with how things are, content with our arrangement. But a stranger coming into our house, they would see it. They’d notice.

Before we host things like birthday parties here, I always start at the door through which people will enter and really look at what they’ll see–and clean accordingly. I rearrange. I change.

What if we did that more often with ourselves? What if we really think about what people will see when they first meet us–not our hair or clothes, but our spirits? What are we exuding? Who do we show them? What if we honestly evaluated whether we display the love of Christ to everyone we meet, or if maybe instead they see first our biases, our judgy attitudes, or our self-righteousness?

But it doesn’t stop with the evaluation or even the cleaning, right? Once I cleared out all the clutter, it was time to really rearrange–to make things new. I started by moving a small shelf off the top of my tiny desk to underneath it, where the bags had been but now resided in the utility room. Then I enlisted the help of my engineering-minded son to build a little fake extension, so that I could use the funny-shaped triangular space between the end of my desk and a bookshelf (my space is in a little angular window nook) as extra desk space instead of just a place for things to fall and be lost to the abyss. Yes, I absolutely built this with cardboard and a stack of books, LOL. But hey, it works, and it gives me a place to put my pens and cell phone holder without using precious real-desk space that I need for my laptop, planner, and tablet.

After we clear out any lingering sins or bad habits or prejudices from our souls, we’re not done there either. We need to replace those things with better things. Remember when Jesus is talking about casting out demons, and he says that tidying the soul just makes it a more inviting place for that demon to return with friends? Yep. Cleaning out isn’t enough. We need to FILL ourselves. With what?

With Him. With Christ. With the Holy Spirit. With His love. With His light. We need to be so full-to-bursting with His presence that there’s no room for the clutter of pride or selfishness, greed or disdain to enter in.

Then, when people meet us, it’s like a visitor entering into your house and seeing not only spotless spaces, but smelling the fragrance of a lit candle or something delicious in the oven.

That’s who I want to be. The kind of person that people meet and are immediately left with a smile on their faces. I want to be the kind of person that makes others want to linger. I want to be the kind of person that draws others, not because of who I am, but because of Who is shining through me.

I still have some rearranging to do in my house. But honestly, I’m more concerned about my heart. What work do we still have to do inside us, to make us into places where Jesus can not only dwell, but through which His love can brightly shine?

One Year

by Roseanna | May 22, 2025 | Cancer Journey, Thoughtful Thursdays

One year ago, on Monday, May 13, 2024, I had my first chemotherapy infusion.

A few days ago, on Monday, May 19, 2025, I had my last protein-blocking injection. The last cancer treatment. I am DONE.

A couple weeks ago, in mid-April, I got a text from one of my cousins–the one closest to me in age, just a month older than me. It was not a text I ever wanted to see from her. It said, I need to ask you to pray for me please. I had a biopsy done earlier this week on a spot in one of my breasts. The pathology report just came back and it’s not good. Carcinoma.

On the one-year anniversary of me receiving my diagnosis, she had her biopsy done. Two days later, she had her diagnosis. Not a club we ever wanted to be members of together. And not an anniversary we ever wanted to share. But in the days and weeks following, we had so many text conversations. We talked about cancer, about the anger and frustration that hits, when we feel like our bodies–the bodies we’ve tried so hard to take care of with good food and exercise–betray us. We talked about treatment options and surgery decisions…and then we’d share silly memes about random things just to laugh.

When I realized my one-year mark was approaching, I intended to do a reflection on the twelve months that have gone by. I didn’t expect to be walking through it with a friend and relative. And I certainly wouldn’t have wished this upon her. (For reference, her cancer is slow-growing and still small, and her treatment will be much different from mine, likely not even requiring chemo. Praise God! She’s having a lumpectomy today, with radiation to follow.) But you know…somehow this new tragedy just reminds me of God’s faithfulness all the more. Because as I talk through everything with her, I get to look back on it from my perspective now:

Healed.
Delivered.
Thriving.

And I get to remember how His Light led me through every shadow. I get to consider her question of “How has the psychological aspect of mastectomy been for you? Has it been a roller coaster?” with even more perspective than I had when I wrote my “The Me I See” post just a couple weeks post-surgery. This is what I said to her:

“I knew I made the right decision for me. And knowing that left me feeling like this was the me that I chose, the me that has the best chance of being healthy, the me empowered to live a full life.”

When I look back over the past year, it’s with a strange sort of fondness. It’s with gratitude. Don’t misunderstand–I hate cancer. I never want to go through it again, and every decision I made was to improve my chances of never going through it again (rather than “least invasive”). It was physically miserable. I felt sick for three months straight, I was so tired I often had to take two naps a day, and there were countless days when I wished I could just forget all the work that needed done and curl up with a book or a television show and indulge in that misery.

But I met so many amazing people, and getting to see them every three weeks made them friends. I learned so much about the faithfulness of God, and of His Church. I was endlessly encouraged by the love and care of both friends and strangers. My husband and I grew even closer, our love tunneling deeper into our souls. I had a way to relate to people that I’ve never had before–other members of this club no one ever wants to join. I learned so much, about myself and the world and the cancer itself.

I got through six intense rounds of chemotherapy, spaced three weeks apart.
I got through a bilateral mastectomy with lymph node dissection.
I got through 15 radiation therapy sessions.
I got through an additional 11 injections of the protein-blocking drug geared toward my particular cancer (this was part of the chemo sessions too, but these two drugs don’t make me sick like the chemo did)–that’s what I just finished up.

What’s left now? Final reconstruction in a couple months. And then…then, just check-ups every three months, then six months, then every year.

The last time I met with my oncology team, I was reminded that this particular form of breast cancer, the HER2-positive, protein-fed type, is agressive. It grows fast, and it recurrs more than hormone-fed cancers. I’ll admit it. That reminder sent a pang of fear through me.

I don’t want this to come back. I don’t want to do this again. Please, God, protect me from that.

I have no real reason to fear. I had a “total response” to chemo, meaning NO cancer cells were found in any scans or in the pathology from surgery. This is best-case-scenario. This means that any cancer cells floating around were likely eliminated as well, which means my chance of recurrence are lower. And the radiation therapy was one more weapon against it. But there are never any guarantees.

There are never guarantees in life. I always knew that, but now I know it in a new way. Now I know that every day, every month, every year is a walk of faith. It’s clinging to His hand and trusting.

Trusting that I’ll stay healthy, yes.
But also trusting that if I don’t, He is no less able. No less God. No less loving.

Trusting that if it’s His will, I could fight this battle again and win. Or fight this battle and end up in His arms. Either way, I will trust. Trust His will. Trust in His best-for-me.

Again, going through it again would obviously not be my will, and I absolutely pray it will never happen.

But I already faced down those fears, last year. Every scan, every test, every unknown was a chance for me to look Death in the face and say, “My Redeemer lives, and I live with Him. In here or in heaven, I live with Him.” Every day of misery was a day to say, “I still have work to do for Him. And when He does call me home, it will be with the trust that someone else will take up that work. But for now? For now, I do the work with what strength He gives me.”

It was not a year I want to repeat. And yet it was a year of profound blessing. It was a year of deeper faith, of greater friendships, of unfathomable love.

As I write this, tears well in the eyes of this girl-who-rarely-cries. Because friends, this year was the worst and the best. This year was fear and salvation. This year was exhaustion and triumph. This year was vulnerability and humility.

And this year is over. The year of cancer, complete. Treatments done.

Now…now I walk. I walk forward, into the rest of my life. I walk with my hand in God’s. And I walk with my eyes trained on those around me, ready to hold out that hand when other diagnoses come. Because they will–they already have. So, so many friends face this.

Last year, I wrote about how “Pink Isn’t My Color” and I will NOT be defined by breast cancer. And that still holds true. I am so much more than cancer. I still claim purple as MY color, not pink. Purple, because it was always the color of my dreams. The color of royalty.

And I am a daughter of the King. That is still my core identity. I am who He made me. Woman, daughter, sister, writer, wife, mom, friend. Survivor. That gets its place on the list, yes. Because while cancer is not part of my identity, fighter is. Warrior is. I didn’t volunteer for the battle, but I waged it, and I pray I waged it well.

Now, I walk this path with a chemo port still in my chest (that stays for a year, grumble grumble) but with no more treatments looming. I walk this path with a body that’s still too weak and joints that have decided to ache and hot flashes that may not go away (apparently in women over 40, chemo often results in menopause. Sometimes it’s temporary and cycles return…sometimes they don’t. We’ll just have to wait and see) and one more surgery to go. The tissue expanders still hurt whenever there’s pressure on them. My pectoral muscles, now over those expanders, still get tight and sore. I still can’t reach to zip up my dresses all the way, like I used to be able to do. My hair is a whopping 2-inches long, and my eyebrows and lashes are thin.

I’m not the same person I was a year ago, in many ways. Physical ways. Mental ways too.

Because though my body is weaker right now, my spirit is stronger. Though I don’t look like the me I was before, I look like the me I fought for. I am changed. And praise God for it.

I don’t know what the future will hold, for me or anyone I love. I don’t know where this year will take me, or the next, or the next. I don’t know if this was my one battle or if someday, I’ll fight it again. I don’t know if I’ll have to stand by the side of people I love to my core and hold their hand as they fight.

But I know that I don’t have to know. I know I am in God’s hand. I know that each day, all I have to do is the work He sets before me.

Praise you, Lord, for every shadow. Praise you for every day of weakness. Praise you for the valley. Praise you for the fear. Praise you for the disappointments. Praise you for the pain.

Because it has allowed me to praise you even more for the Light. To praise you for the strength you give. To praise you for the mountaintops. To praise you for the trust. To praise you for the joys. To praise you for the healing.

Praise you, Lord, for the victory. Not mine–yours. Today, I walk into tomorrow. Because you’ve given me that gift. Help me to walk worthy, Lord. Help me to walk well. Help my tomorrows to be exactly what you want them to be.

Amen.

How to Have a Conversation: A Primer

by Roseanna | May 15, 2025 | Thoughtful Thursdays

We learn as toddlers how to talk. But somehow, many of us are no longer taught how to have an actual, earnest, honest, and respectful conversation. Given the deep divides these days, we need the skill more than ever…and have it less than ever.

So today, I’m going to share the things I learned at my college, where we have conversations for 4 years on foundational texts of western society, whether we agree with the text or our fellow students or not. And what I’ve learned in the meantime. We’re going to take a lighthearted approach rather than an academic one.

Because, y’all…whew! It’s shouty out there!

How to Have a Conversation…Instead of a Shouting Match

In 15 Easy Steps

1. The goal is not to WIN. The goal is to LEARN. (Repeat this ten times before you begin and as needed throughout a conversation.)

2. “I have some things right. I have some things wrong.” (Repeat this three times silently before you even begin.)

3. The purpose of listening is not to find the flaw in the argument. The purpose of listening is to understand not only what they’re saying, but why they’re saying it.

4. I will not aim any of the following words and phrases at any other member of the conversation: Moron, Idiot, Liar, Shame on you, How dare you, You’re deluded, Are you blind?, Are you deaf?, Are you crazy?, Insane, Stupid, Disgrace…you get the idea. If it is shouted on a primary school playground, it does not belong in our conversation.

5. I will not assume the problem is with THEIR understanding; first I will assume the problem is with MINE (see Rule 6).

6. When I don’t understand a point, I will ask for clarification instead of assuming the speaker is a moron (see Rule 4).

7. We do not agree on everything. Whoever we are. But we can still be friends.

8. We are not “agreeing to disagree.” We are agreeing that we have much to learn from each other, and that we are each made richer by learning the other’s perspective.

9. I will not judge a PERSON because of an IDEA they express.

10. I can step away if it gets too emotional. I would rather be silent and think things through for a few minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even longer, than to damage a relationship and deliberately hurt someone else (see Rule 7).

11. I am responsible for my tongue. I am responsible for the things I say. I am responsible for their consequences. I will think before I speak.

12. (If you are a person of faith) When I have a quick, knee-jerk, emotional reaction, before I respond, I will PRAY. I will pray first for MY OWN HEART, that God will give me a spirit of understanding and humility and grace, that He will convict me of any wrongdoing on my own part. And then I will pray for the other person or people (FOR them, not ABOUT them).

(If you are NOT a person of faith) When I have a quick, knee-jerk, emotional reaction, before I respond, I will pause to think. I will examine first MY OWN HEART and consider whether my gut response is one of understanding, empathy, and humility, or pride. I will ask myself WHY the other person holds the opinions they do, and if perhaps they’re coming from a place of hurt as well. I will ask if I have contributed to this hurt.

13. I will always remember that the people I’m conversing with are no less worthy of respect, no less worthy of honor, no less worthy of love than I am. Their opinion is no less valid than mine.

14. I will not just make statements. I will ask questions.

15. I will endeavor to see a person’s heart rather than look for an excuse to tear them down. I will assume they are saying what they believe to be true. I will assume they do not intend to hurt me.

Grappling

by Roseanna | May 8, 2025 | Thoughtful Thursdays

I don’t know about you, but I have a hard time grappling with facts I don’t like.

Sometimes they’re medical. Sometimes they’re scientific. Sometimes they’re political. Or dealing with a particular policy. Sometimes it’s my own kids.

Sometimes it’s my own heart.

I think we’ve all been there. I’ll give just one, very personal, example.

I am pro-life. I’m even more pro-life than lots of Christians, because my personal conviction is that, if it were me, I would not consider rape or incest to be a reason to abort. Because I believe every life is that sacred. (This is a belief that leads me through other stances too, on everything from assisted suicide to how to react to someone coming violently into my home.) I am well past the point where I think I have to force my opinion on anyone else, or for that matter, that this nuance-free opinion holds for anyone but me. My conviction–not yours. And it’s an untested, untried conviction. So who knows if it would change if my circumstances did? As I learn more? But I digress. (And I don’t bring this up to debate those fine points right now, LOL.)

Because I’m pro-life, I’ve always been appalled at the Roe V. Wade ruling, especially as I read things explaining how it’s bad law. I’ve been horrified at the fact that the same teenage girl who needs parental permission to take Tylenol at school can be given an abortion without parental knowledge. (Makes no sense to me. But again, not the point here, LOL.)

So a month or so ago, I asked my statistics-loving-husband to look at the math for me. How can we track abortion rates against legislation? I was ready for my point to be proven: When we encourage good decisions, we see less abortion.

My husband spent a good long while digging into studies, comparing them, looking at the methods used to gather the data…all those things that make my eyes cross but bring him endless, incomprehensible-to-me delight. And then he said, “You’re not going to like this.”

Because what he found was not what I wanted to be true. He found that, in fact, the stricter the laws, the more abotions are being performed. When pro-life politicians are in charge, abortions increase.

Well, he was right. I don’t like this.

Now, let’s clarify that this is nationwide data–because while some states’ rates are down because they outlawed it or have greater restrictions on what’s possible, all states have not. So people cross state lines. I live in West Virginia, but it’s really easy to just drive to Maryland. And such is the case most places.

Again, I’m not bringing this up because of the issue of abortion, or to lead to the argument of “Well just make it illegal everywhere!”–I’m bringing it up as an example of how I grapple with things. Here’s how my internal thought processes went:

No. I don’t want to believe that.
But it’s true.
I don’t want it to be true. Can I just…not believe it?
Don’t be a moron, Roseanna. Denying it doesn’t change that it’s true, and it doesn’t solve the problem.
Okay, fine. (Tyrant!) Let’s think it through. What do I learn from this data?
I learn that changing a law doesn’t change behavior.
Hmm. I think it’s even more than that. I think I learn that strict laws about things that label people (like “sinner” or “slut” or “easy” or “shameful” or “bastard” or “illegitimate” and hence “unworthy, unlovable, inexcusable, undesirable, unacceptable” cause fear. Panic. And those things lead to more of the behavior that I find deplorable.
Another truth I don’t like.
Right?! Because it takes the easy answer (legislation) off the table–if something causes MORE of the thing I want it to cause LESS of, then it’s not working. Which leaves us where?
With hard answers. Like…
Like actually changing hearts.
And it gets worse–we need to not just convince people of a point of view, we have to actually provide an answer to help them battle their fear and reduce their panic.
That takes a lot of work.
Mm hmm. And not just with or for THEM. Not just the physical work. It takes emotional work in ME. Because I have to be willing to meet those women in their grief. I need to be able to cry with them in fear of the future. I need to be willing to get down in the muck with them and promise to be with them as I try to help them stand again…and mean it. Not just say it. Mean it.

I bring this up because our country is in a lot of turmoil right now as different groups shout for change. One side hates this policy. Another hates that policy. Both, if they’re being honest, probably have things where they have to grapple with sides of the argument that they don’t like. Don’t want to be true.

We can deny the truth. But it doesn’t solve the problem.

We can keep trying to legislate our point of view. But that doesn’t ever change the other point of view.

We can tell the other voices to shut up and remove them. But that doesn’t build peace. That builds resentment that will backfire.

We can just get rid of policies that aren’t working. But that doesn’t solve the root problems that led to them.

So I’m going to posit this: If we condemn something, we have to also think through an alternative to the very real problems that “something” is trying to address. It’s not enough to ban it–be it abortion, DEI, books, ideas, rights, definitions, or “bad law.” Whatever “it” might be, that doesn’t work. All it does is make divisions run deeper, tribalism grow stronger, “us versus them” prevail, hatred spin out of control, bitterness fester, and ideals turn into violence.

We have to grapple with the truth: if the Good we are pursuing is not accomplished by the measures we have taken, we need to change the measures. But we can’t stop there. We have to find something that works.

This holds true for ALL of us, both sides of the aisle, conservative or liberal. We cannot shout about our rights and yet knowingly trample on others. We can never achieve justice by injustice. And we cannot let ourselves fall into the trap of “I’ll do this thing I hate in order to stop someone else from doing it first or doing it worse.”

Friends, that is not the path of righteousness. That is not the path of peace. That is not the Way of the Cross. That does not save hearts. That does not preach the Gospel. That does seek His kingdom. It seeks our own.

I really want to just be able to set good rules, for people to follow them, and for it to make the world a beautiful place. And to be sure, we need rules and laws and guidelines for a country! But we all have to grapple with the reality that it doesn’t always work.

Sometimes it’s going to be “my” laws that fail. Sometimes it’s going to be “theirs.”

What would happen if, instead of crowing about it when it’s them, we sat down and said, “Okay. So let’s get back to the problems that started it all. What’s another solution?” instead of just tearing each other down?

It’s not easy. I don’t like doing it. But you know…when we do…I think we draw a little closer to the Kingdom of God.

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