In my church’s Wednesday night Bible study, we’ve been reading through Romans, taking it just a few verses at a time and really digging deep, beneath the easy and accepted answers to try to grasp the subtleties of what Paul is saying. Most recently, we’ve been in chapter 7, where Paul is talking about how we battle with sin.

Using the present tense, he talks about his own struggles to do the right thing and not do the wrong thing. This isn’t just the battle or the sin from before the Damascus Road experience–this is now. I think all too often people use this as an excuse. “Look, even Paul still struggled with sin, so surely it’s not surprising that I do!”

But it’s important to ask what sins he’s talking about. Is he still struggling with persecuting Christians? I don’t think so. With legalism? Paul’s letters certainly never indicated that this is something he deals with–in fact, we see him in Acts calling out others on it.

So should we be still struggling with our Big Sins from before we accepted Christ? Or rather, should we be okay with still struggling with those, just accepting it as part of humanity? That has never sat right with me.

And on Good Friday last week, the sermon brought this up again in my thoughts. We had a guest speaker, a retired pastor who is a regular attendee at our church. As he spoke about the work of the Cross and how the crucified Christ worked His salvation miracle for all our sins, he touched again on how those sins change over the years.

How the closer we grow to our perfect God, the more imperfections we can see in ourselves. We’re not struggling with the same old sins, repeating them over and again. We’re becoming ever mindful of new levels we need to reach.

Much as I hate cleaning, this is a perfect analogy. I could use any number of examples–property after a tornado, a house after a flood, a child’s messy room, a table on which you’ve been kneading dough. The same principles apply to all.

When you begin cleaning, you start with the Big Stuff. The trees and branches; the debris and destroyed furniture; the entire toy box worth of contents on the floor; the mounds of flour and bits of crusty dough.

In being cleansed from sin, these are the obvious things. The murder and adultery and idolatry. This is where God is saying, “Yeah, we’ll worry later about whether you pray in every moment you should. Right now, let’s just make sure you’re not still frequenting the prostitutes at the temple in Corinth, okay?” I’m not saying clearing this is easy. It’s not. It’s hard work, and if you’ve been mired in these big, noticeable sins for a long time, breaking free of them is work. Manual labor style, exhausting work. But there’s no question of whether you need to do it after you come to Christ, so you buckle down and get to it.

But once the big stuff is cleared out, after you take a breather, thinking, “Wow, I did good work! I cleaned up a lot of my life! Let me just take a peek at what I’ve done…” you go back and look. And do you know what you see?

All the twigs still scattered around your property. The mud on your floor. The bits of paper and trash in your kid’s room. The oval of flour on the table that just won’t brush off.

Maybe in your spiritual life, this is the loving your neighbor and loving God first. Still important things, right? Your yard or house or room or table sure don’t look clean with them there. Similarly, your spiritual life is obviously not right if you say you’ve accepted Christ but can’t spare a kind word for anyone around. So you set to work on those too.

And once you finish this round, it might look pretty good, right? If you don’t look too closely, it’s neat and tidy.

But we’re not finished. There are still leaves in the yard. The room needs scrubbed. The floor needs to be vacuumed. The table wiped down, maybe even sprayed with something. And it doesn’t end there, either. Because the wind will blow again, footprints will be tracked in, new toys dropped, fingerprints or new food will land on that clean table.

Cleaning up our souls is a process too–a never-ending one. Because as we continue to live and encounter new situations, new clutter or dirt lands on us, right? It’s not that we should be continually working on those first things–it’s that the cleaner we get, the more nit-picky we get. Those tiny flaws that weren’t even visible under the big problems–the nooks and crannies of our spirits–need our attention once the bigger stuff is cleared away.

But I love that our God is so big and yet so detail-oriented. The God of the cyclone is also the God of the whisper. The Lord who forgives us for the Big Sins also pours out His mercy on those nooks and crannies.

Because He wants us to be Holy, as He is holy.

He doesn’t want us to be content with clean enough. He wants our souls and spirits and hearts to be pure. Pristine. Like His.

A year and a half ago, I wrote a post about how, in our churches, we needed to take a stand–not for what we’re against, but for what we’re for.

But as my husband and I were talking a few weeks ago about how to really change the culture, he hit on this again. And I realized that the thoughts I’d applied to our churches can–should–be extended to a whole lot more. Bear with me as I try to reason through my thoughts on this.

As an author, my thoughts often start with books (go figure, LOL). “What,” people ask over and again, “is Christian fiction?” And some definitions will be all about the negative–what they don’t have. Christian fiction doesn’t have sex scenes. Doesn’t have bad language. Doesn’t have…

True. But it’s a whole lot more than that. Christian fiction has a faith thread. Christian fiction is about how ultimately our stories are incomplete until they include God. Christian fiction is about seeing His love for us play out in a fictional world.

It’s not enough to write a book that lacks bad things. We need to write books that have good things. Good writing. Solid characterizations. Intriguing plots–what all good books need. Plus. Plus faith, plus Truth. Plus the Lord. Christian fiction needs to be more, not less, to be successful.

Because we’re never going to reach a hurting world just with messages of No. People don’t ever want to subscribe to the negative–they want something to believe in, not something to be against.

Let’s look at the culture for a minute, and where secularism seems to be winning. First example–the abortion question. I noticed when I was just a kid that both sides phrased their stance as a Pro. Pro-Choice, Pro-Life. No one is ever going to call themselves Anti-Life or Anti-Choice. Right? Because that’s by definition negative.

But what about the actions both sides take? Protests–protests are all too often negative. They’re protesting against something, not for it. And I honestly think this is when they fail. Because though we call ourselves Pro-Life, let’s face it–far too often we’re just anti-abortion. Which means we don’t have in place the things that affect a positive change–the clinics and support groups and counseling and open arms–so much as a willingness to speak against abortion and call it criminal, to denounce anyone who would consider it, to name the evil. This is what leads to abortion clinic bombings…and gee, I don’t think that gets us a whole lot of points with people of different opinions, does it? It doesn’t convince anyone to change their mind. All it does is convince people that we’re irrational and against free will.

Where Pro-Life really shines is when we share the heartache of the girls and women, when we offer love instead of judgement. But all too often, they don’t get that from our side. They get it from the Pro-Choice side. How topsy-turvy is that?

That is, though, just one example. There are so, so many more. So many times when Christians just take a reactionary stance. Where we take a stand…against. Against homosexual marriage. Against abortion. Against the removal of the Ten Commandments from public places. Against the removal of prayer from schools.

And each and every one of those stances have failed. Why? Because we’re not standing for anything.

Why aren’t we more often, publicly, taking a stand for? For forgiving sinners. For offering second chances. For teaching our children right from wrong. For proving that the hard thing is often the best thing. For demonstrating that we’re stronger, better with God than on our own. For covenants. For bonds. For families. For community.

That’s a whole lot harder. It means giving of ourselves. It means offering help to people. It means sacrifice. It means danger. It means persecution.

It means changing the culture.

For the past few weeks…or perhaps months…I’ve had this realization swirling through my mind. One that explains why I like some historical fiction better than others. One that most of the world (or at least the mainstream world) doesn’t seem to share.

My thoughts on this started when I read a bestselling ABA historical, The Alice Network, a few months ago. I’d been on the wait-list on Overdrive for months–so long that I’d forgotten I’d requested it, or why, or who recommended it to me by the time it actually arrived on my Kindle, LOL. But I read it, and overall I really enjoyed it. The writing is phenomenal, and the story was gripping–a dual story line, one about a female spy for England in WWI occupied France (hence why it was recommended to me), and the other just after WWII, following a young woman as she goes in search of her missing French cousin. It’s been a while since I’ve read anything outside the Christian market, so there was a wee bit of culture shock to suddenly have bedroom scenes and bad language in front of me, LOL. But that didn’t really get to me (I mean, I do watch TV, so that’s not exactly shocking to my senses, much as I don’t like it). It wasn’t the historical character’s rather modern take on sexuality–that actually had an explanation that built the character and was necessary for her development.

What bothered me was a relatively small plot point (and in no way ruins the whole book, which was fabulous): the fact that the author took an actual historical figure and turned him into an adulterer–excusing it by describing his wife as half crazy and self-obsessed. This isn’t new in mainstream historical fiction–this is why I couldn’t stand to watch Turn after the first season–but it bothers me. For so many reasons, it bothers me. Not just in this instance, but as a symptom of society’s views today.

First of all, it goes against my personal code for writing historical novels (not that I hold others to my standard, but it’s what got my attention about it first). I determined long ago the kind of historical fiction I wanted to write, and it obeys a simple mantra that I developed: Facts are sacred, motivation is up for grabs.

Which is to say, if something is recorded as happening, then it happened. Period. I will not mess with fact. But as for why things happen, why people make the choices they do…even if history gives us a reason, who’s to say the writer of that history really knew what was going on in the person’s heart or mind? The why is always open for interpretation in my book. And in my books. ?

So I get a little twitchy when other historical writers play fast and loose with facts. But I can imagine the author of this book claiming that’s exactly what she was doing–she was explaining the facts with this motivation. That this fellow was in love with her fictional character. Which is great…except that it means a historical figure was turned into an adulterer. By my definition, this changes his fact. Because it changes a person’s entire moral fiber. It’s one thing to create a fictional mistress for a known womanizer. It’s quite another to take someone recorded as a man of upright character and decide he’d be more interesting if he had an affair. If it were me, I’d have no problem writing him as falling in love with my character–motivation–but I wouldn’t have changed his fact. He never would have acted on it, and his nobility would have had the same effect on the heroine that his physical love did, to drive her onward.

With all the insistence that writers not defame historical figures (because let’s face it, we never know when descendants might sue), I’m not sure how and why this particular defamation is okay. But in today’s society, it seems to be. And that is what ultimately bothers me. Not that an author would do it, but that no one cares. I’m not just upset on behalf of the bygone people (though can you imagine if someone wrote YOU this way in 90 years??), but because it speaks to what our culture doesn’t even consider bad anymore. Apparently it doesn’t bother most of today’s readers to think that a man cheats on his wife, especially if his wife isn’t exactly likable.

That hurts my heart. And takes me back to my title. So much of the world today cares little for the sacred. And by that, I mean matters of faith and God and the Church, yes, but also those moral covenants we make with one another. When I speak of preserving the sacred in fiction, I want it to include faith, to include facts, but also to include that understanding of bonds, of covenants, of things larger than ourselves or our happiness.

It used to be that a person’s reputation was everything. Today, it seems that being infamous is just as desirable as being famous. That notoriety has eclipsed respect. We’ve gone from making heroes of our villains to making villains of our heroes, and we don’t even notice that we’ve done it. Our definitions have changed.

But I think the questions still need to be asked: What gives us the right to redefine what they believed, those who came before us? To change the type of people they were? We don’t have to agree with it–with their stands, with their beliefs, with their facts. But all too often today, people want to change it. To turn ordinary, low-level authority military men into adulterers. To turn godly men who happened to fight for the Confederacy into villains. To strip Christians in history of the very things they stood for and not see the problem with it…because we don’t value those things anymore.

But if we do that…who’s to say our own beliefs–whether we think the sacred or the self more important–won’t be rewritten after we have gone?

Last Thursday, my family used some Christmas money to attend a hockey game in Pittsburgh–something we’ve been wanting to do for years. Six years ago, hubby and Xoe went to one while I stayed with Rowyn in the hotel room (because he wasn’t quite 4 and had a hard time staying up that late, LOL), but our darling son never forgot that he didn’t get to go have fun with Papa and Xoe, so eventually I came up with this plan to put Christmas money toward the tickets. ?

Photo by Alex Korolkoff on Unsplash

Now, I’m not a huge sports fan in general, but after watching hundreds of hockey games with David over the years, I certainly know how the game works and enjoy it. I mean, not enough to put my book or knitting down, most of the time, but I listen and obligingly look up when he directs me to a particularly brilliant play. 😉 So even though there’s no announcers giving you the play-by-play while you’re watching it live (I was shocked at how QUIET it was!), I could follow along.

We won, which was fun. But something I enjoyed even more was the collective nature of being in that audience. The community. Let me see if I can explain my thoughts.

I’ve been to football games, pro baseball games, that sort of thing, so I’m no stranger to the unanimous cheering and all that, but it was different in the hockey arena. Every time there was a shot on the goal and it missed, there was a collective groan/gasp that went through the entire arena. Twenty thousand “Ugggghhhhh”s is quite a thing! And when there was a score, twenty thousand fans surged to their feet. No one was more concerned with the food or beer (though those Dunkin Donuts were calling my name…) during the periods. Everyone was riveted to the game–because unlike football or baseball, you can’t look away for a minute, because you literally never know when the next scoring opportunity will come. 

Photo by Alexis Brown on Unsplash

As I pondered these collective reactions, it reminded me anew that we–humanity–weren’t built to be alone. We’re created to live in societies, to be members of communities, to thrive on experiences shared by others. I’m not an extrovert–but there’s no denying how much I appreciate those hours spent with my church family, my actual family, my book club, my homeschool group. These are my people, and I need them.

Whenever I think about these things, this article springs to mind. I daresay I’ve linked to it before, but it bears repeating. It’s on the rise of glass mirrors in Europe and how that changed the entire structure of civilization–mindsets became more about “me” once people could see themselves clearly, and less about “community.” It used to be the case that the worse punishment imaginable was to be excommunicated or exiled. Now, if one community or group tosses you out, it’s relatively easy to just move to another and find a new place, not just because of ease of travel, but because we’ve become a culture that teaches “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks of you.” When that used to be the only thing that mattered.

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It’s especially interesting to consider the positives and negatives of this change in the church. On the one hand, it has a direct correlation to the rise of the Protestant emphasis on personal relationships with God. I deem that good. But at the same time, it corresponds to a direct decrease in the value put on community.

I totally stole the title inspiration for this blog…from the other person embarking on this adventure with me. 😉 I think she’ll forgive me. (Check out her post here) 

So, a few weeks ago my husband said, as he has said many a time before, “You need an assistant. You should really consider hiring someone.” In the past, I always just waved off that suggestion because…well…I don’t know. Because figuring out how to delegate work is work in and of itself, I guess.

But I’m staring down the barrel of quite a lot of deadlines, and this time the advice really hit home. I do need an assistant. Someone to handle some of the minutia of book releases and promotions, to help keep me on schedule and do some of my scheduling. Someone who can handle the non-creative parts of my job, so that I can focus on the creative parts.

The next morning, I shocked my husband by putting together a list of things I could have an assistant do, and posting to my launch team that I was looking for someone. To my mind, who better to go to first than the readers who are already my cheerleaders and promoters?? I was shocked to get a big response from my post. I thought I might get one or two interested people, who may or may not be serious. Instead, I was flooded with emails from a collection of wonderful, gracious people with experience and a passion for helping authors.

After a whole lot of prayer and quite a lot of emails, I’ve hired Rachel Dixon as my virtual assistant, and I’m so excited to begin this new chapter with her! Maybe most people wouldn’t feel the need to post about hiring someone, LOL, but I do. Because the way I view it (and the way Rachel views it, hence why she was a good match for me) is that what we’re doing is building a team. We’re working together toward a common goal. Serving authors as an assistant is Rachel’s calling, and serving readers as a writer is my calling. So the fact that we can work side by side for the Lord…well, that’s pretty awesome.

So to Rachel, welcome to the team–your heart for this work really touched me, and I’m super excited to be working with you!

To my readers, I know this move is going to help me get more, better stories to you, and also allow me to be more interactive.

I can’t wait to see where the adventure takes us. Here’s hoping and praying it’s to new heights in faith, friendship, and productivity. ?