by Roseanna White | Nov 13, 2014 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
“Most assuredly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do he will do also; and greater works than these he will do, because I go to My Father.”
John 14:12
I had quite a few verses of Scripture that I kept in mind while writing A Soft Breath of Wind. One of them that was always hovering at the back of my mind was that one–John 14:12. A simple statement, made by Jesus to all who believe. To his disciples. To his followers.
I’ve heard this verse for a lot of years. I know it. I believe it. We, the church, are capable of doing miracles. We are. Do you ever question that? But we are.
This past spring, I read a really, really amazing non-fiction book that WhiteFire Published, called
No Plan B: Discovering God’s Blueprint for Your Life. I’ve mentioned this book on here before, but it bears repeating–it’s an amazing book. Because it helps shatter the lie that the church has come to believe over the past 2,000 years. That we
can’t do what Jesus did. That we’re powerless on earth, just waiting for heaven.
No true. So not true. And the author points out why. Jesus didn’t perform his miracles under his man-power, obviously. He didn’t perform them under his God-power, either, or we wouldn’t be able to do these works also. He did them under the power of the Holy Spirit. That same Holy Spirit that lives in us. Not that comes occasionally to visit us when the worship music hits us just so, but who lives in us. Always. He is the one who healed the sick, gave sight to the blind, fed the five thousand, and raised the dead.
Has the Spirit changed?
No.
Has the church?
Unfortunately…yes. Most of us have. We can’t believe in the miraculous in the world of CG and special effects. It just takes too much faith. We can’t believe in healings–and raising from the dead?? FORGET IT–in the world of emergency rooms, prescription drugs, and routine surgeries.
Nelson Hannah challenges us in No Plan B to let go of that lie–and, for heaven’s sake (literally), don’t teach our children that lie!
We tend to look at the church of Acts as something…special (and it was). But something…out of reach (but it isn’t). We tend to look at it as “Back in the day, when miracles happened.” I’ve even seen (quite a few) publishers who say, in their requirements “Stories may not include miracles unless they are biblical fiction.”
That galls me. It really does. Not because I have all these stories that want to use miracles as a device to quickly wrap up the action, but because I want to shout at these publishers and editors, “But He’s the same God! The same Spirit! Why in the world are characters set in A.D. 30 allowed to do it, but those from today aren’t???”
In A Soft Breath of Wind, there are miracles. Yes, it’s biblical fiction. So they’d be “allowed” by any publisher. But the whole point of the miracles, in Soft Breath, is that it’s the power of the Spirit, working through imperfect humans who doubt, just like we do. But who choose to believe instead, just like we can.
Because Jesus doesn’t say that we might do greater works than these. He doesn’t say that “He who believes in me today–but not those who believe in me in later generations, mind you–will do these same works and greater.” He says, “He who believes.”
In my book, not every character believes. But Zipporah does. She believes with the faith of a child, a faith that she clings too as she grows up, even in the face of doubt from those who should believe in her. She believes in the impossible, because nothing is with God. She believes that what Jesus spoke is truth.
In A Soft Breath of Wind, there are miracles. But the miracles aren’t used as a quick wrap-up. The miracles aren’t an easy way out. The miracles are the hard part, because they require the characters to let go of their human understanding, their human limitations, and trust in Him. They require them to step outside what they “know.”
They require them to believe in him.
Every wonder why Jesus says we’ll not only do what he does, but greater? Because we’re operating by the same Spirit…but now we have him in heaven, too, making intercession for us. Sometimes when I pause and think about it, this just awes me. Jesus–wise and humble, perfect and bold–is fighting for me. And his Spirit is whispering into my mind.
Writing A Soft Breath of Wind forced me to look pretty deeply at this. Forced me to realize that if I’m not doing these things–and greater–it’s no fault of His. It’s a fault of mine. It’s my lukewarm faith, not the age I live in. It’s me choosing to focus on the things of this world instead.
I’m not there yet–I’ll be totally honest about that. But I’ll state it here and now, a phrase pretty popular this time of year with talk of Santa and that famous Miracle on 34th Street.
I believe.
I believe He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.
I believe the same Spirit that raised the dead and healed the blind and wrapped time around His little fingers is here today, waiting to be called upon.
I believe Jesus spoke truth when he made that promise.
I bet you believe too. The questions is…what are we going to do about it?
*Sunshine photo:
photo credit: Hamed Saber via photopin cc
by Roseanna White | Nov 6, 2014 | Remember When Wednesdays, Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
It was probably 20 years ago, though I don’t remember the exact date. I was just a kid, at home in my safe little world. But we had friends who had gone into missions. The whole family, gone for months at a time, off spreading the good news. This time, it was to Bulgaria. I doubt I could have even found it on a map, but off they went. A few adults stepping out in faith and a group of YWAM kids on fire for God.
Our friend Mike recently shared this story of his first trip to Bulgaria with our church, and though it’s so long past, it spoke to me on so many levels.
They showed up in a bus in this tiny Bulgarian town. They were there to preach to the gypsies. Now, I don’t know what you know about the gypsies, but let’s just say that they’re not well received in Europe. They’re the outcasts, the unloved ones. They’re viewed with suspicion and prejudice and have been for centuries.
And this town they arrived in…it’s not like any town we know. There are no fast food restaurants, no food trucks waiting on the corners. And to hear Mike tell the tale, they didn’t arrive with big plans. They arrived with big faith…and a few dozen hungry teenage mouths to feed.
He said he got off that bus not knowing exactly how he was going to find food for 40 teenagers–food was kinda scarce in that region. Times were tough. But he started down the road looking for restaurants that could take their crowd.
Then, down the street, a man came running. Waving his hand. Yelling, “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare!”
Make stopped, turned, probably frowned. Probably wondered if, somehow, he was taking the food from this man’s family by trying to buy it for his group.
The man huffed to a halt in front of him. “Don’t you dare,” he said again, “steal my blessing. I am to feed you. My wife has been cooking for days. Come. Come. All of you.”
This man and his wife had never met these people before. They didn’t know they were coming–even the group didn’t know they’d end up in this town. But the Spirit knew. And the Spirit had made arrangements.
The group followed this man back to his small house and found tables set up outside. Pots and pots of steaming food waiting for them.
Bulgaria has, since then, been a second home to this family mine loves so well. I always love listening to their stories, but this one…this one is something special to me.
When Mike stood at the podium shouting out an echo of that long-faded “Don’t you dare steal my blessing!” something went tight inside me. Because how often do we steal blessings from each other?
We’re a society of prideful, arrogant, self-sufficient people. We rely on the money we can make, the health insurance plan we can afford, the car we drive, the clothes we buy. We rely on us. Not on God, not really. Not most of the time.
And on each other? Forget it. Even in the church, we have this idea that it’s great and noble to give…but it’s chafing to receive.
I have a friend who jokes about having “the gift of receiving.” It’s a joke…but it’s also true. It’s a gift, one many of us deny. But by denying someone else the opportunity to give to us, denying them the opportunity to be generous, WE ARE STEALING THEIR BLESSING.
Because when you give, unreservedly…
When you give, without thought to how much that will leave you with…
When you give, not even knowing if the people will show up…
When you give, sacrificing your own pleasures, your own time, your own sustenance…
God gives back. And He gives back from His storehouses, which, let me just tell you, honey, are a whole lot fuller than ours. He gives back with eternal life, not just in heaven but here on earth. He gives back with spiritual understanding. He gives back by making less become enough. He gives back by turning people who were once sinners into saints. Now. Here. He gives us His glory, His promise, His Spirit, His truth, His power.
But if we’re not let to give–if we don’t let others give to us–then what?
As the holiday season approaches, as Thanksgiving looms around the corner, I’ve been talking a lot to my kids about how the most noble gift, the most noble giving, isn’t to the ones who will give us a present in return–it’s to those who can’t.
I’d say I also need to teach them how to receive, but to be honest, that’s something kids already know. Right? It’s another part of childlike faith, because every gift we give our kids is undeserved. They don’t earn it. They don’t give us something in return. They receive in love and give back love. Something we un-learn as we age, but which is oh so important.
Because I have nothing but my heart to give my Father. Nothing but my heart and my willingness to let Him use whatever else I have for His other children. That part’s not so hard to understand. But I also need to have hands willing to receive from others when it’s their turn to give–even when I look at them and think, “But I have more than they do, I can’t take this from them.” I can’t just give, expecting blessing. I have to be willing to let others give too.
The next time someone wants to do something nice for you or give you something, I hope you pause before you refuse. I hope you stop to think, “If I say no, if I try to do this/get this on my own instead, am I stealing their blessing?”
I hope we all pause to consider what we might be really taking from them by refusing to accept a gift from their hands.
by Roseanna White | Oct 23, 2014 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
It’s Xoë’s birthday. That means cinnamon rolls and homemade macaroni, and a day off school (woo hoo!). It means presents and pink and laughter and fun. And a mommy who solemnly swears to stay off her computer most of the day.
Of course, Xoë isn’t up yet, so here I am. 😉
I had preconceived notions of motherhood–who doesn’t? I thought I’d be perfectly patient all the time, nurturing my babies to adulthood with wisdom and boundless love.
I’ve got the love part. And I sure try to be wise. Patience…well, let’s say parenthood has taught me a lot in that department.
And though I have moments of temporary insanity when I walk into the living room and it looks like a toy bomb has exploded, those moments are far, far outweighed by the ones where I draw my kiddos close and think, “Yep, this is it. This is what life is about.”
Xoë is my firstborn, and she’s such a special little girl. I can’t quite believe she’s 9 today (HOW DID THAT HAPPEN???!!!), but I figure it’s a good time to make a list. Nine reasons out of the gazillion that I love my brave little princess.
1. She’s always thinking about others. She shares gladly with her brother (most of the time, LOL) and even more gladly with cousins and friends. She’d rather make sure those she loves are happy than herself. I’ve never met a child more eager to help. (She loved being my helper at book events, like in the photo above.)
2. She’s smart. I’ve yet to introduce a concept in school that she hasn’t grasped within a day or two. (Okay, Roman numerals took a few months–but when she got them, she got them with a vengeance! She’s now quicker at them than I am!)
3. She’s clever. Which is different from smart, LOL. I love hearing the witty things she says, the clever little jokes she’ll make. Makes my day every time. =)
4. She believes in celebrating. I’m talking, any occasion she can come up with. We had a First Day of Fall Festival just last month, and she’ll make decorations and banners for whichever party she decides to throw in a given week–and this girl plans months in advance. I pray she never loses that heart to rejoice over the little things! It makes life so much brighter. =)
5. She’s not afraid to be crazy. Nothing makes me grin more than when she does a silly little walk or dance.
6. She’s still a little girl. In a world where kids idolize TV stars and musicians, where I often shake my head at how primary schoolers try to act like 17-year-olds, my little girl is just that. A little girl. I know part of that is likely due to our lovely little homeschooling bubble, but I’ll keep it that way for a while longer, thanks. A 9-year-old should be a little girl!
7. She’s thoughtful. Just last night when she heard the reports of the terrible events in Canada yesterday, she asked, “What’s terrorism?” And then, after I explained it, “But why would anyone do that?” We had a rather lengthy discussion on it all…
8. She’s creative. She draws, she writes stories, she designed in Photoshop…yeah, I know. Sounds like me, LOL. But seeing what she creates always leaves me with this big ol’ glow of pride…
and..
9. She’s not afraid to be herself. Over the years she’s ended up among some pretty relentless leaders–her cousin, the neighbor girl, etc. And she rarely insists on being the leader. But she also isn’t afraid to say, “No, let’s not do that.” No matter who she’s with, she’s Xoë.
And oh, how I love my Xoë. Happy birthday, pumpkin!
by Roseanna White | Oct 16, 2014 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
When I was a kid, I had big dreams. And this idea that writers lived on mansion on hilltops. I thought that surely, surely fame and fortune awaited me down that road. That I’d be a household name. That people would squeal with excitement when they met me. That I’d be able to dive into my vault of gold like Scrooge McDuck.
Yeah, so…um, no. LOL. That’s not the life of a writer–at least, not many of us. But that’s okay. Because the more I travel this road, the more I know it isn’t about those old dreams. It’s about the stories God puts in my heart.
For a lot of writers, writing is a career. They love it, but it comes down to the bottom line. I get that…but that’s not me. To me, despite those childhood dreams, writing isn’t about what I get from it. It’s about what I can give with it. Writing is my calling. Writing is my ministry. Writing is the way I share about faith, about God, about how He guides through our lives. About how love lifts us above the dark places–though those dark places will always come.
Tonight I have a book signing at my local Library, so my thoughts this morning were on the subject. And I’ve also been hearing back from my beta readers for
A Soft Breath of Wind, so that makes me think about it even more. I guess as a kid, I would have imagined that praise for my books would have made me smile like a movie star, utter a gracious
thank you so much! and go about my day knowing I’d done that, I’d done what I set out to do.
Instead, every time I get an email or message from one of these early readers with words like your best yet and this opened my eyes to faith on a whole new level, there’s no euphoria. There’s no glow of accomplishment. There’s something better. There’s that deep-down, bone-level gratitude to God for helping me write what He wanted me to. For putting down a story I wasn’t sure would be what my core readers want and finding that it’s what they need. For realizing He had things in mind for my words I didn’t know.
That’s what writing has become for me. And while it might not be enough for Scrooge McDuck, I gotta say, it’s why I keep doing this. It’s why I get up at 5:30 every morning, though I don’t often get to bed until 11. It’s why I bake cookies to take to the Library with me, though my day is already full. It’s why I sacrifice that time when I could be outside or reading or otherwise at play, to squeeze a few more paragraphs onto the page.
I’ve said it before, I’m sure. I write because it’s who I am. It’s what I’m called to do. If no one ever read it, I’d still write. If I never earned a penny, I’d still write. Because God teaches me so much through each story.
Yesterday marked the T-one month date for the release of
A Soft Breath of Wind. And as the countdown to release begins, I’m covering this book with prayer. It goes places no other book of mine has ever gone. It digs to places I didn’t know it would plumb. It asks questions I’d never thought to wonder about until Zipporah and Benjamin and Samuel brought them up.
And that means it’s probably going to offend some people–those types of books always do. So I’m also praying that it doesn’t get into the hands of anyone to whom it would be a stumbling block. I’m fine with people not liking my book, with them taking issue with it, if it’s an issue God wants them to take. But I’m not okay with people asking questions that makes them waver in their faith or go places in their minds they don’t need to go (I’ve had a few of those reviews over the years too). So if you’ve a mind to say a prayer over this book and its releasing, please include that–that it make it into the hands of those who need it and stays out of the hands of those who don’t.
I’d also appreciate a prayer for my event tonight. I love doing Library signings–so much fun to chat with folks who love books! So here’s hoping it goes well and I meet some new people to chat with. =)
by Roseanna White | Oct 9, 2014 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
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| Autumn…always crazy around here |
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said or written the words, “Sorry, this month has been crazy.” I think I probably utter/type it at least once a month. Because, let’s face it, life is crazy. It’s always crazy. And though I always think, It’ll get better once I’m done this… the fact remains that once I’m done one thing, it just means another is on the horizon.
Traditionally, October is my crazy month, where I have something going on every weekend. Fall Festival, family reunion, daughter’s birthday, Halloween. This year, September way outdid October’s plans. This year, we were gone for vacation, then for homecoming at our college, then there was ACFW. I’m so, so glad to be home for a while, even if I still have all those normal October things to do.
My point? Well, that every day is crazy. Every week. Every month. And I can either use that as an excuse to put things off and let life overwhelm me…or I can not.
That’s a hard one for me. I admit it. All too often things get pushed to the backburner in my life (like cleaning…or sorting through that stack of mail that I hope doesn’t have any bills I’ve missed…or…) while I focus on the pressing things.
So how do I do better? Honestly, I’m not an expert on this. I don’t have the answers. But this past year, as we moved and settled, as I had to pitch a new series to new publishers, as I worked on my biblical at a snail’s pace, as I edited and designed a book every month for WhiteFire, as I homeschooled both kids for the first time…well, some things shifted for me. Some things that made me realize that I can still have time to cook a decent meal, if I just make myself be creative. I can keep my house from becoming hopeless, if I just force myself to spend one evening a week on it (it’s not great, mind you, but not hopeless). I can write, I can read, I can edit, if I’m willing to budget my time.
There are still days and weeks where I just can’t do any more. I can’t squeeze in one more activity, I can’t go one more place–not if I still want to finish my “have to”s. But at a certain point, I have to stop looking at it as crazy…and just start accepting it as everyday life. And cherish the fact that, though crazy-busy, my family is at least crazy-busy together. We’re not pulled a million different directions everyday. And I love that. I love that we spend so much time together.
It kinda makes me think that all the crazy is worth it. Because we can live in Crazytown together. And really, it’s a pretty fun place to be.
by Roseanna White | Sep 18, 2014 | Remember When Wednesdays, Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
This past weekend, I was in Annapolis. Strolling old, familiar streets, laughing with old, familiar friends. Striding across rain-dampened grass that I’ve darted over many a time, struggling to keep a book-laden bag on my shoulder.
Now, homecoming is every year, but this is the first we’ve gone. Because it was our 10th. Ten years! Gracious, that makes me feel old, LOL. But as we sat on the Quad, browsed through the bookstore, and watched the truly spectacular Star-Spangled Fireworks light up the sky over back campus, I realized it didn’t matter how long we’d been gone–there’s something about St. John’s that never leaves you.
The event was over the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Ft. McHenry in Baltimore, the battle that “The Star-Spangled Banner” commemorates–because Francis Scott Key was an alumnus, thank you very much. =) One of our most famous, but…well, then again we can also claim the creator of MacGuyver. In fact, he received an award at the banquet this year. So yeah. FSK + MacGuyver. St. John’s obviously rocks. 😉
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| View of McDowell Hall from Back Campus |
I don’t often just talk about St. John’s on here because, well…so few people know what it’s all about, and I could ramble on forever on the subject, which no one wants, LOL. But today, I have to talk a bit about it. Because if anything struck me this weekend, it wasn’t the fireworks. It was the camaraderie. It was the sure knowledge that whatever stranger I spoke to on campus, we had common ground.
We are Johnnies. And that means something very special.
It means we can talk about Plato, Aristotle, and St. Aquinas. It means we debate Marx and Jefferson and Nietzsche. It means we have a working knowledge of physics and metaphysics and biology and chemistry…and that we might take a conversation on one of those into music theory at any moment. It means we know how to think, we’ve learned how to ask questions. It means we can carry on a conversation with absolutely anyone, on any topic…though fair warning, we might sneak Greek into the weirdest places.
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| This is from the SJC website…but it’s also pretty much one of my bookcases |
Being a Johnny means loving books. Loving literature. Loving philosophy. But more, it means loving learning. It means cherishing what has shaped us, not just the way we turn out. It means recognizing the value of the journey. It means recognizing that different opinions, different perspectives, different conclusions aren’t to be dismissed–they’re to be learned from. They don’t have to convince us…but you know, in examining what we don’t agree with, we often discover why.
Yes, we study Mr. God Is Dead right along with Augustine and Aquinas and the Bible itself. And you know what? Reading other people who question the very existence of God, the value of faith, made me value it all the more. Made me understand why I believe what I do…and made me able to talk about it to those who don’t.
St. John’s helped make me who I am. In every single book I’ve written, you’ll find reference to Program material–whether it be based on the work themselves (like
Jewel of Persia) or feature cameos of some of my favorite books (Brook, in my upcoming
The Lost Heiress, is wading through the German of Hegel, which is so difficult that German students often use the English translation!).
This weekend, I was reminded of all that. I got to hang out with my friends and talk about everything from dog breeding to Plato’s Symposium. Wine making to the publishing industry. I got to chat with current students and know that, though I’m a decade older, we all have that Johnny soul. I got to watch alumni from the ’40s come up to the podium and talk about how they fled Hitler’s Germany…and were blessed to find the opportunity in America to attend St. John’s.
I got to remember why I so love asking questions, exploring the what-ifs, thinking through a story…and teaching my kids Greek (everyone thought that was awesome, by the way). I got to be, not just a wife, not just a mommy, not just a teacher or a writer or an editor…I got to be a Johnny. I’d almost forgotten how cool a distinction that is.
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. Having successfully launched two homeschool grads, she now spends her time writing fiction, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years, as well as a fantasy series and contemporary mysteries and romances. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.