Blog on the Lillypad
Saturday, September 13, 2003
  Well, this blog keeps getting hit by searches for "Dave Hyles", so I will post what I have seen from the latest ruckus. A person or persons who go by "Madisonmadness" have hit he Fighting Fundamentalist Forums. Some of the posts under this screen names are merely replies to other people, so I have not included them in the following list. But anything that seemed noteworthy I am including. You will have to skim through references that are not clear to outsiders.

Posted by madisonmadness on Sep-9-03 10:12am

It's finally over. You have been discovered. You have hurt God's people for the last time. For 25 years you have hid behind your form of godliness and now the real DAVE H. has been exposed. You are a demon possessed, manipulative sociopath who, for too long, has reeked havoc upon local N.T. churches. After several years of investigation our work has finally paid off. America knew that you were dirty, however, we just didn't know to what extent. Now, it's out* and you are finished. Your cry of "where's the proof?" and "where's the justice?" will no longer rescue you.

Our latest discovery has taken us, by your own records, to an Olivia Sexual Fantasies and from there one new door after another has opened. Olivia, A.K.A. ******* (Name not provided to protect the innocent), who was once your secretary, was at one time, by the testimony of those who knew her well, a very godly women who loved her family and took pride in her chastity. Now, through your sociopathic nature, you have turned her into a bi-sexual, perverted maniac. You pimp her out to men all over America, as well as your wife, in the name of "exploring our sexuality, a gift from God". And now her family is torn. Her kids have gone astray and her life will probably never be used of God again.

After trailing the last 25 years of your life, it has been discovered that there is one broken and battered life after the next that lies in your destructive path. Your latest adventures while in the Pinellas County area include dozens of women whose lives you have wrecked. We have also discovered from our investigations from the Texas Court system that you haven't paid a dime of child support to your ex wife (Name not provided to protect the innocent). Not to mention the ************ that you messed around with while you were in Hammond. Wouldn't it be interesting to have them pop their heads up and give a statement about you.

This is no joke. This is no bluff. Olivia at (727)52*-****, through our investigation, has led us to *******. Largo, FL, Apt # ***, the home of Olivia (A/K/A ...Not provided to protect the innocent). We know about your email addresses that you use to set up dates with potential clients (address not provided to protect the innocent). It is time to quit hiding behind the local church and announce to America what you really are* a Larry Flint wanna be.

Now, let this be clear: 11,500 preachers across America, including Jack Scaap, and your mother will receive this information that we have acquired. The phone records, the video surveillance, the phone conversations, the emails, the photos and everything else that we have will be delivered shortly to their door steps so that your slimy head won't pop up again in another church across America.

YOU ARE FINISHED!
Posted by madisonmadness
Nice message from Mrs. Hyles Friend. Why don't you just sign your name DAVE. We know you get on here and read this stuff to see what America has to say about you. Just hold on cowboy the proof is on the way. Your little scam about preachers telling lies is not going to hold up this time... Were not talking about a sermon here big boy... we are talking about documented facts... and we will be SWINGING these facts your way very soon. Talk to you SOON!

Posted by madisonmadness
HI MIKE... HI DAVE... HI dbronson54... Hi Carl...whichever you'd like to be called. Isn't that what they do in the swingers club... use code names to protect the innocent. Let's keep playing... this is so much fun. Just when you think you've got it all figured out something new slaps you upside the head and you think...huh... I wander how much these people really know about my twisted life.

Posted by madisonmadness
DAVEY... O DAVEY, where forever art thou Davey. Are you not Mrs. Hyles friend anymore? Maybe your starting to panic because you're getting backed into a corner and you can't stand it. You despise not knowing what other people know and might expose about you. I'm glad that you've got Doc and Mark's #, but you better wake up and realize that you got bigger fish to fry loverboy. LET'S DANCE!!!!!!!!!!!

Posted by madisonmadness on Sep-11-03 9:47am
Good Day All,

The madison family wanted to write a message and clarify a
statement we recently posted on the FFF concerning DH. We put the vague information on the forum only to undercut and prevent a spin that DH is working up even as we are writing this post. We just wanted everyone to know that the information that is going to be coming to a mailbox near you will be true facts and that we have substantial evidence concerning DH and his very sick, malicious lifestyle. The evidence we have against this sexual monster will be no new revelation as to the kind of man that DH really is. However the evidence does prove that DH and his wife are still very much involved in swinger activity and he still continues to prey on the unexpected women in local N.T. churches............Now we know that DH and his "supporters" or his "schizophrenic personalities" found on this forum will cry "where is the justice" and "why are you not handling this the way the Bible says" ? But understand, however, Dave wants to spin the facts. This time there will be no national platform protecting him or attacking those who proclaim the truth. Others of you say that this information should be brought to the police and the courts.......the only problem is that there is no law broken when a person runs pornography web sites and pimps out women under the facade of a "sensual massage" (more information on that to come soon). Now in the future if these facts are indeed challenged to be the truth and Dave wishes to take them to court under the statute of defamation of character, then by all means we will be willing to go to court. We are sure there are plenty of lawyers "Browsing", "C.L.A", others who would love to represent our case. We know that Dave would plead the fifth, but we would be more than honored to document the facts in court and have numerous witnesses take the stand and let the world know of the destruction he has reeked on their families and personal lives. If there is anybody who wishes to participate in a civil law suite against this sexual predator and has a legitimate case, perhaps we should form a comittee and discuss the possibilities. Our group has several victims of DH destruction who are more than willing to testify and pursue such a case. We appreciate all the support from this forum and will continue to keep you updated. You can email us at DAVIDJACKHYLES@yahoo.com

Posted by madisonmadness
Mike, Dave, dbronson54, Carl, Mrs. Hyles Friends Jack Hyles Press, Oliviasexualfantisies, (Not sure which it is now)
(For those of you who are not aware… dbronson54 is the email address that Dave Hyles uses to set up appointments with potential clients with Oliviasexualfantisies, which, by the way, has recently just shut the yahoo group sight down and has changed her voice mail on her phone (not to worry… all has been recorded and saved). Carl is a fabricated name that Dave used as a swingers name with another women at the Pinellas Park Baptist Church [this women was one of several]… the women’s secret name was Carla)… More to come on all of this!

NOW:

These Doc and Mark characters that you keep referring to… it seems as if you have something to really worry about. Who are these guys. Do they have something on you that is causing you to tremble. Please enlighten the Madison family… maybe they can help our cause.

RE: “I'll no longer participate in this conversation.”

I think that is a very wise decision for you to make. It is only going to make it worse for you. Listen Dave, we know that you have been playing this game for so many years that you know every possible escape including trying to manipulate people not to read things that are written about you. When are you going to realize… you are a despised man. That people are tired of being hurt by your antics. Pastors are weary of seeing their good families destroyed because of your selfish agenda.

Now, please answer this question with your “philosophical” ability to exegete the scriptures: What does II Cor. 5:17 mean when is says “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.”? By the way… don’t take out “old things are passed away” and continue to refer to things that happened 15 years ago. You were fired from the Pinellas Park Baptist Church… you have been exiled from the Berean Baptist Church. Did this happen 15 years ago? Right… Madison forgot, every time this happens to you it is not your fault… it is someone else’s fault. It is someone who is trying to attack your father or mother. It is someone who hates the Hyles name. Get over it! Listen very carefully… it is time for you to quit living in the past. Get back to the future and realize that the evidence is there and not yesterdays news… it is very much todays. By the way, quit crying about people bringing up your past… My friend, it is one thing for a person to have a past, it is all together another for a person to have a history. YOU HAVE A HISTORY!

Another question: why is it that on your latest post you continue to refer to “pornography” as though Madisonmadness is some pornographic sight… would you like to enlighten us there please… is there something that you would like to tell the forum. Besides… from our records pornography is something you enjoy quite well… and may we add, quite involved with.

Look… quit trying to defend yourself, take Brenda, Amy and Bethany and go crawl under a rock and live the rest of your life away from God’s people. The Madison family does not care that you run a sexual characteristic business… that is your business and we are sure it has been quite lucrative. Just quit involving God’s people and hurting good churches. Take this for whatever it is worth… don’t pop your head up again in another church!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Posted by madisonmadness on Sep-12-03 10:17am
Good Day All,

Just wanted to send greetings from the Madison Family***Apparently Dave is
not getting the picture once again and thinks he is dealing with amateurs who
are unskilled concerning his satanic antics. We are in fact a "Family" and not
just a couple of individuals. Our Family members can be found in the East, West,
North, and South parts of this great country (USA). Our investigation has led us
MANY places and to MANY victims. This is not just some half effort to exploit a
man and his family, rather a group who really is concerned with protecting local
N.T. Churches. We chose very carefully who would receive the Madisonmadness
posting rights, and did so because we are fully aware how Dave loves to attack
the messenger and discredit individuals. If a day shall come where the names of
those who participate in this "Family Meeting" are revealed* the Fundamental
world will be in "shock in awe". Again, please refer to previous post and
realize that not one, not two, not three, Ect. Ect. individuals are posting
under the Madisonmadness name, but literally dozens**..some of which are direct
victims of DH. Those on the FFF have questioned if this situation would be
handled properly and if we would be sending pornographic material in the mail.
Be assured that we will uphold extreme tastefulness and be very sensible with
the facts we have obtained. Also be assured that we have weighed carefully the
ideas from others on this forum. Again thanks to you all and keep fighting the
good fight!

Posted by madisonmadness on Sep-12-03 3:31pm
Please be patient with our family. By now you know that there are several people who are a part. Many post come from different people within the family, however, we assure you that we will do our best to fulfill our duties Biblically. Allow me, as one of the posters, to express our mission:

The Bible says in Ezekiel 33:6 “But if the watchman see the sword come, and blow not the trumpet, and the people be not warned; if the sword come, and take any person from among them, he is taken away in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at the watchman's hand.”

We are a family that has been established, not to destroy a life, that is God’s position, rather to save other lives from being destroyed. To blow the trumpet and to warn God’s people lest they fall under the sword of Dave Hyles. We have no way of knowing where Dave will show up next, however we do know this… wherever he settles he destroys people’s lives. People of this forum, we ask that you trust us and that you will pray that God will give us the emotional fortitude that we need and also the discernment that we will need to continue to do everything that we can to keep Dave Hyles from hurting another soul.

I know that many have posted that we should set back and wait and allow God’s justice to work. Please rest assure that God’s justice will prevail. It always does. However, from scripture, one can conclude that God used His people to detour evil and protect the innocent. The postings and the things that you have read recently on this forum have been posted methodically. It is nothing more than a ploy to let David know we are coming and it is not with information acquired from 15 years ago. It is hard to figure out why some are willing to allow a wolf to run ramped within the fold and set back unwilling to stop him.

We have no vendetta against Jack or Beverly Hyles. It is our hope that Mrs. Hyles can go to Heaven without having to know how twisted her son really is. Our mission is to WARN.

NOW:

Let this be known: God is the final say in all that we do. The Bible says in Psalm 127:1 “Except the LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the LORD keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.” We will do what we believe that we need to do, the rest will be up to our Heavenly Father.

Humbly Yours,

The Madison Family
  4:51 PM
 
Dinner with Bryan
Had dinner last night with Bryan. We exchanged his PERSIMMON WIND for two of my Doctor Who video tapes (SPEARHEAD FROM SPACE and THE SILURIANS). We had beer and fish and chips (him) and chicken and baked potato (me) and talked for a couple hours. Bryan is a few steps ahead of me in the contracting game, and his friendship is welcome on a personal level but is also a professional boon. He just clues me in on things. He told me to send him my resume because maybe his company needs a tech writer, but I was disappointed that his own particular project already has a tech writer in place. I've worked with him before, and he's good to work with.

Anyway, I had two Bass Ales, and he had three Guiness stouts, and we spent a few hours conversing. I asked him about the cannibal. His assessment was that she probably wants me, and he was surprised at how annoyed I got.
"I am a god-fearing woman," I told him. "Chaste. Everybody knows I believe in marriage. Everybody knows that I am very moral."
"What she hears you say you believe and what she thinks you'll really do are probably different," he told me.
He hinted that I may be taking this too seriously. I acknowledged this. And maybe, I tell myself privately, this is what she wants, not me physically, but just to know that she can shake my comfortable, happy stability in my virgin world. She can bug me, and that gives her power. But I did not voice this idea to Bryan. Instead I told him that the next time she tries to pry my emotions from me for an unwelcome discussion, I will just tell her that when I think it's appropriate to relate my emotions to her, I will. Otherwise, they're not going to be duscussed.

He agreed that this was a good course to take. Because, he admitted, maybe she is jus a clueless person looking for an emotional connection and not a sexual thing at all. Maybe she wants to feel mutually dependent with you. I have to agree with this. There has been no overt physical overture towards me, and every time I put my foot down, she does back off.  12:33 PM
 
Kind words from Green Beret
Once again the gallant "Green Beret" offers kind words that I appreciate:
You have my admiration, dear sister, for what little that is worth. However, I am VERY sure you have great favor in the sight of the Captain of the Lord of Hosts who defends His ransomed ones! Continue to steadfastly "contend for the Faith"!

I will, brother, and I have been motivated to equal Voyle Glover and Vic Nischik in their ardent love for God's people and their defense of the innocent. Thank you for your gracious words. They're very welcome.

Elsewhere on the Fighting Fundamentalist Forums
The person known as WOW has disappeared. The last exchange was between him and me, in which I told him I didn't know who he was, but he was giving away a guilty conscience by his nervous replies to innocent questions. He disappeared after that, and has not yet been back. I have received an e-mail offering a guess on his identity. Not Dave Hyles, but somebody like Dave Hyles, also preying from the pulpit.

Funda-crappy poetry hits the boards
A new poster who calls himself "Rick Philips" posted the following regretable poem as, I suppose, some lament for depraved Dave and his band of porno-fiends:

You count them all as failures, losers to cast away,
To walk with them in fellowship, you quickly say, "No Way!"
You never will forgive their sin, nor what they did one day.
It's not in you to show compassion, for them you never pray.

Judging eyes and critical words, toward them you often cast,
You never pause to realize, like them your guilt is vast.
You're not much like my Savior, you won't forget their past.
They try to change, you quickly say, "Oh, It will never last!"

......

I'll take those people you cast aside; my direction, all them send.
I'll stand faithfully beside them, I'll defend them till the end.
Their past, their sins, their failures, does not my heart offend.
I want to be like Jesus, in me they've found a friend.

This horrible travesty that was meant to be poetry and actually went on for seven stanzas. I've given you only the first two and the last. Of course, this is starting to get funny, especially if Rick Philips is actually Dave Hyles (and though I think so, I could be mistaken).
So of course I had to post my rejoinder:
Man, that poem was crappy enough to be from the Ghost of Jack. Do you think it's Dave, feeling sorry for himself?

They asked me how I knew
Racoon poops were blue.
In my terse reply
I found I could not deny
Some once got in my eye.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Or, on a more serious note:

He ask me why I cry
Against false preacher guys.
My anguish has been fed,
By the faces in my head:
The raped, the beaten, and the dead.
  12:12 PM
Friday, September 12, 2003
 
Aftermath
Would I ever hear a plane overhead without feeling a twinge? Would I ever look at a clear blue September sky and greet it with exhilaration instead of bittersweet longing? I shared the aftermath with my country. And yet, the nature of what it is to be an American still surprised me. First, (by Saturday the 15th) people started wishing that we could find something funny about all of it. And that alone surprised me. Only Americans would do that. We treasure comedy. And second, we started finding funny things.

The Onion's interview with God about not killing was so vulgar it tipped too far towards blasphemy, but I read it. And while I didn't laugh at the humor, I saw the humor. And then, of course, there was Evil Bert the PhotoShop goof that reminded us that while Al Qaedda is blood thirsty, sneaky, filled with hate, and determined to kill all Americans simply because we are Americans, they are also clueless. Let me spell that correctly, CLUELESS. The Bert is Evil web page has been pulled off the web as far as I know, and I respect the author for pulling it to preserve Bert's image with children. But it was funny. My favorite shot was of Bert riding around with Hitler and giving him advice.
Then there was the Taliban itself. I don't recall anybody making fun of them at first because their actions were so horrific. But the way they would get up and lie and lie and lie to camera men and news reporters in the face of overwhelming truth about everything they lied about (and they lied about everything), was comical. I realized that those guys would lie even if the truth would serve them better. It was horrifying to see clips of them shooting women in the head and committing other
atrocities, and the sight of the heavily veiled women begging for food because they were not allowed to work angered me. We should have fought the Taliban long ago, or at least challenged them for their incredible oppression of women and the poor. But there are times when you wish that a modern day version of the Three Stooges would step forward and do a parody of these guys as the originals did with Hitler and Mussolini.

And then, one morning in early October, when as usual I got up and went right to my computer to get the latest news, I got an e-mail from sister. She sent me a URL and told me to check this site, as it was one of the funniest things she had ever seen. By now I think everybody has seen this, but if not, click here (sound file, so be careful if your at work. When I first saw it, I watched it four or five times and then sent the link on to everybody else that I knew. I kept playing it again and again at work.
Eventually, one of the news stations included a brief clip of it on their hourly sign-off. Life was not back to normal. Life would never go back to being the normal that we'd once had. But, at least for the moment, we were coping.

http://www.gotlaughs.com/funpages/bin2.swf
  1:55 AM
  New Events at the Fighting Fundamentalist Forums
So I woke up this morning and logged on, and what should I find but lots of new visitors to my blog, all of them having arrived from the keyword "Dave Hyles" on a Google search. Now what has provoked this?

Over on the Fighting Fundamentalist Forums, there was quite a hulabaloo yesterday. A poster named "madisonmadness" announced himself by promising that he had evidence against Dave Hyles that would put him out of the ministry. Then another new name showed up and appeared to be givign an account of having hit Dave with a right hook and given him a fat lip. I asked the newcomer (Voice1765) to tell us the whole story, but he declined. Then a fellow named Green Beret showed up and at once addressed me very kindly, which is unusual on the FFF, the only other person with a military screen name having repeatedly accused me of arrogance, pride, and a desire to be a man. But Green Beret seems to have been following the posts for a while, as he was aware of my stance on these issues of gross corruption in Fundamentalist pulpits. And he was completely unintimidated by my directness in addressing these issues. If anything, he seemed to respect me for my unpopular messages.

Be patient, dear sister. The child molesting, fornicating, adulterous whoremongers that pretend to be part of the blood-washed, born again Body of Christ will be marked in a Biblical fashion. They, and their wicked supporters, will be exposed and, by God's grace, their mouths will be stopped.


So I returned to him a cautious but very sincere reply:

Green Beret, I pray that the Lord sees fit to execute His judgement. I've been praying for it for a few years now. I know that if not now, then when He sees fit, but I hope it's now. I always hope it's now.


Meanwhile, as this remarkable day progressed, the poster named WOW made a reappearance. You may remeber him from a previous and rather mystifying series of posts when browsing asked an open question. If not, Click here.

The Old WOW icon
I used to depict my impression of WOW like the firgure on the left because I didn't know who he was and he started right off by giving browsing a warning when no warning was necessary. At that point, he struck me as a masked, hooded figure who at least made a fierce demeanor.

The New WOW icon
Now that I've directly addressed him a couple times and seen him sweat profusely (in virtual terms) over nothing, I have decided to depict him this way. He may make a big noise at times, but he's jittery. And I cannot see why he is jittery.


So yesterday browsing was online and was responding to a post made by one of the regulars in the Hyles-Anderson forum. Browsing wrote this:
No, actually David Douglas...did not MARRY a teenager. Instead, he RAPED a teenager and impregnated her, crossed state lines with her, was caught and eventually it was determined that he was the father of the child and he was ordered to pay child support, something I understand he does not do. Now as to where this Douglas is or works or is located, I'm not sure. Some say he's on here with his sons. Someone told me he is likely to be found on the Berean forum.

So then WOW wrote,
ROFLMBO!!! I know where he is, and I know that he is definately NOT on here. (still laughing) He wouldn't waste any time on here.
(Still laughing...)

So then, what appeared to be taunting by WOW to browsing followed, but I couldn't comprehend this, and then, WOW challenged browsing to "keep guessing". I was still a bit mystified, but there was this indication from WOW that he was rejoicing in knowing what browsing didn't know.
So browsing wrote,
hmmmm. you got the "red flags" up
methinks thou protesteth too much
Well, since you're not a son but you do know Douglas, what's your opinion about the incident with the teenager?

And then WOW gave one of those mystery replies, in which he blithely sidesteps rape and focuses on moving ahead and being a friend:
Red flags???
Just like Dave Hyles, Dave Douglass is and always will be my friend. I will not make any comments on his past, because, it's been Forgiven.
That's something that you FFF's can't seem to grasp. If God has Forgiven DD, why should I hold it against him??? Why should I, one of God's children, continue to throw things back in DD's face. If I were a true friend (and I am) I would help him to grow in his Christianity. <--That's probably a term you FFF's don't know anything about either.) Instead of listening to his enemies, browsing, maybe you should pray for him. I know most of his enemies, I pray for them daily, but if you gave me an email address I could send you some things that would make you re-think who you trust. I will stop here. ?

I wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about, but I know sweat when I see sweat, and the guy is sweating.
So I wrote,
You sweat too easily and you laugh too loud. Why not just hang a sign on yourself that says "I'm guilty."?

But I didn;t mean he was guilty of a specific thing. I just meant he was behaving as a guilty person. I figured he knew that this corruption is not so lightly passed over, but he's refusing to admit it. He's wrong, and he knows he's wrong.

But then he wrote,
I'm sorry, ... I don't follow you. For some reason you must have me mixed up with someone else. Guilty of what???

Well, maybe I was unclear, I thought. But what in the world did he think I was saying? So I wrote,
I don't know. But man, you are guilty of something. When browsing posts, you jump like a frog in a skillet. You know that verse about the guilty running when there's no accuser? That's what came to mind when I saw you jittery as a kid with his hand behind his back at one of browsing's open discussions. Now maybe you just have a really tender conscience and worry about displeasing God. Or maybe you're a man who lines up his excuses like ducks in a row to get out of facing something unpleasant that you need to face. I don't know. All I know is you get too nervous too fast, and you laugh too loud.

And don't hand me any crap about not remembering any discussion with browsing, because I documented it in my weblog. So if it slips your mind, I'll just re-post it.

And then he disappeared from the forum for the rest of the night. You know, a good fighter strikes nerves with precision and accuracy, and I think I did that. But I sure wish I knew which nerves I struck!  1:22 AM
Thursday, September 11, 2003
 
Cannibal's Lunch
That's me; anyway, that's how I felt yesterday: once again being hungrily eyed by somebody who wants me, and wants me in the worst possible way. There are ways we can have each other--some of them quite distant and detached and yet beneficial. The doctor who really cares about juvenile patients with leukemia cannot be too warm, too close, too intimate. She has to have some distance if she's going to save them, think clearly, and at times do things that cause them momentary pain. But the things she does saves them. At times she spends every waking hour trying to devise some workaround for them when the conventional medical protocols don't work. She knows she's done her job when they leave her to go out and live healthy lives, never to return.

There are ways in which one person of any twosome has to do all (or most of) the giving. I learned long ago that equality in relationships is a big fallacy. Respect and generosity are the most important aspects in meaningful relationships. Sometimes one person sees the needs or injuries in another and simply gives and gives in order to bring the person to recovery. My friend Deb is like this. She doesn't think I know that she's been very generous and kind to me, but I know. And I know that she is very strong, very happy, very deeply rooted in her life, and I do not have the power or the gifts to be her equal in our friendship. But because she approaches me with respect and generosity, she gives of her time and concern and helps me when my mind is running overtime and is hurting me with brooding thoughts. The best I can do with Deb is always be very courteous with her and show my respect for her, because I know full well I can never give back to her what she's given to me in terms of guidance, candor, and supportive words. I'm not going to let that bother me----quite the opposite. I am very honored.

The only way to build true friendships is to be honest and respectful. And respect has to exist on both sides. I have a great friend from long ago who is in a rocky marriage. I care about him a great deal, but it gets a little tricky when you're a single woman and he's a married man, in a marriage that's in trouble. By tacit agreement, we never see each other in person, and I do most of the writing, e-mailing, and I listen over the phone if things get really bad. Of course it's not equal. It can never really be an intimate friendship, for our goal is the same and doesn't involve me: to help him keep himself and his marriage together. I know full well I'm the best friend he's got, but it won't end like the storybooks end. Even now, as he is getting better footing with the situation and has learned to accommodate to some of the difficulties, I am starting to fade away from his life. Like the doctor with the leukemia patients.

But the only way this friendship could have worked in these conditons is for both of us to respect the other's views. He's not a Christian and despises astrology, but he learned (and I learned) to respect the differences and try to work with them. He doesn't express scorn for what he regards as superstition, and I don't keep hitting him over the head with the need to be saved. But there are moments in discussing his options and his grief when he has to say, I just don't believe that, about advice I give, and I accept that he doesn't. And there have been times when in his grief he asks a question, and I have to say, I can only answer that in terms of Christ because Christ is the only answer I have. And he accepts that. But I know that eventually I have to fade out from his life. And I respect that, too. The friendship cannot work without that respect and a recognition that we both have boundaries we cannot tear down.

And then there's the other extreme: when somebody wants more than the friendship you can give. You're walking along, minding your own business, trying to put the Rule For Being a Nice Person into practice, and then you get this person who at first seemed nice, and now she's crossing those sacred boundaries. My emotional state seems to be a matter she keeps under close scrutiny.

Over the next several weeks, my attempts to put some healthy distance in place slowly take hold. And yet any indication of emotion in me have been met with a ubiquitous solicitude that I find profoundly annoying. She's always at my elbow if she sees an opening. I begin to think of it in terms of cannibalism. This person wants something I find death to provide. I'm not even sure I know what she wants, but I know she does want what would harm me to give. The cannibal wants you.
I begin hearing the phrase, "You'll have to come over some time." This chills me. Sure. Come right over to the cannibal's house for supper. Guess who's on the menu? Over the next several weeks I figure out it must be more an emotional attraction than physical. I am emotionally strong and forthright, already a beacon for needy guys, and they have come in droves until I beat them off and learned not to let a needy guy see me as a mother. I hadn't thought about needy women. Or if I had, I suppose I'd readied myself to deal with openly hurting people in an open, kind way while maintaining the boundaries I require. I had not considered backdoor approaches of false and cloying solicitude.

After all, I am single. I'm supposed to be needy. Ok, I am needy. Life can be wretchedly lonely. But somehow I have learned, after being overly dependent on others for a good part of my life, that I have to be dependent on God, on the goodness of His grace, and I have to be strong for myself. And I can depend on others but must never be dependent on them.

But now the cannibal has come, wanting my emotions, wanting to know my fears, wanting to peer into my deepest heart where I store both grief and joy. Is she doing this because she knows I find it annoying to be under scrutiny, or is she really clueless? This is a person, I remind myself. A human being. But, I keep thinking, this human being is a cannibal. Ah, the great terror to a person with a ninth house sun and the Ascendent in Sagittarius (like me): to be confined, to be restricted, to be owned. And worse, to be consumed or carved up in such a way that the core of what I am is rifled by another person merely to get an emotional high. That's what this is coming down to: an over familiarity that wants to keep coming, wants to dispense with the part of me that she considers minor or trivial to consider, and wants to get to that big juicy heart, so full of passion to live fully and know my world.  11:59 PM
 
When our world changed forever Part 7
When I got home from work on Friday, September 14, I again did what most Americans did that week the moment they walked in the door---I turned on the television. I caught the beginning of the service at the Washington National Cathedral for the National Day of Prayer and Remembrance. This was an inter-faith service---something that Christian Fundamentalists are supposed to shun. I make no compromise in my belief that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is the only way to God, and that salvation comes by His atoning work alone. Yet I want a country that has freedom of religion. So that means, in times of national tragedy, that we must have memorials that represent a broad spectrum of religious beliefs


And in spite of a conscientious effort at diversity, the service was close enough to Christian in character that I found it meaningful. Indeed, it was worthwhile to listen to representatives of other faiths speak, for they had a lot of wisdom to offer. All truth is God's Truth. All ancient writings that have spoken to people over the centuries are worth considering, even if we listen with certain reservations in place.

And apart from the religious import, there was, first, the grandeur of the national sorrow, which brought me to tears again. We Americans are a pretty jolly, informal, spontaneous bunch. But in the sorrow of the nation, our grandeur and dignity as a nation were apparent. It was rending and yet somehow beautiful to see white-haired, strong profiled men in uniform, with their wives, holding their wives' hands to comfort them. It was even more rending to see some of the men---hearty and bluff fellows--crying with their wives over the deeply personal losses they had suffered. There were young people, also in uniform, in the congregation, and many of them had tears on their faces.


The soloist was both beautiful in her carriage and voice and also tremendously sobering as she sang "America the Beautiful." It was like a call to everybody to remember what we are; who we are, and what we have always treasured---the wild beauty of this country and the wildness in our hearts that has always reveled in our freedom. There's even a grandeur in American optimism and inventiveness, if you look at it in the right light. We are wild, hilarious, generous, even stupid at times, but always free and optimistic. To see the nation's leaders so sobered caused me to lose a lot of the fear that had been hanging over me, but it made me even more sad.

Ever since the morning of 9/11, all the news stations had been scrambling to keep us updated on who had done this. And by Friday it was looking like the Taliban of Afghanistan was behind it. They had issued strong denials, but likewise they had refused to hold Osama bin Laden accountable for his actions, or to allow investigation of him. I knew, as I watched that sober service, that not only had those people died on Tuesday morning, but more people were going to die. Some of those young people sitting in that crowd may leave and never return to our free shores. And certainly, elsewhere in the world, there were poor people who had never known freedom and did not comprehend this struggle. And some of them would be caught in the crossfire between us and our attackers. And they would die, too.

I knew we had to go to war, and I favored it, for I could not endure the thought of something like this ever happening again. But it is the nature of war to be horrible. It is the nature of war that the innocent, though you try to limit casualties, will die. It is the nature of war to inflict misery. Nobody can get around it; nobody can stop war from being exactly what it is. And I knew as I watched that service that now we would have to go to war, and we would have to kill and be killed.

On Monday morning, I had been innocent about a lot of things. I had imagined peace was a way of life---so much so that I never even knew I was assuming it. On Tuesday my world had changed. And here, on Friday, I thought, I was watching my nation prepare for war, and I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. Not so strange as Lisa Beamer, I thought. I had seen her the night before during President Bush's address to the nation. On Monday, she had just been a housewife. On Tuesday, she had kissed her husband goodbye and two hours later had become a widow. On Thursday, she stood up before Congress and the nation and was applauded as a national hero, an icon of what we all suffered. How her life had changed, all within so short a space!

There was a lot of Bible reading during the service, and the hymns were classic hymns of Christian cathedrals: an Appalachian rendition of the 23rd Psalm that I have listened to often on one of my Hale and Wilder CDs, sung by one of the national choirs, and Martin Luther's "A Mighty Fortress is our God," and others. The camera panned across the congregation, and many people were weeping: Husbands, wives, and their children in little knots of grief.

At last Billy Graham, now elderly and needing an arm to lean on as he climbed up to the pulpit, issued the keynote message. He was frank and humble and honest. He said a few things that caught my attention, one that evil itself is a mystery, citing 2 Thessalonians 2:7. I had never thought about that before. I have always thought Billy Graham not forthright enough in the clear articulation of the Gospel when confronted by those who oppose it. Yet I respected him very much then, for it was clear that he was burdened by the sorrows that had hurt us, and sincere in trying to speak of Christ.

But after Bush issued the final address (which surprised me), the choir and orchestra began that familiar tune, "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," and as the recessional started, the grimness hit, not only me as I watched, but the audience as well. That martial hymn conveyed it to everybody. We would walk out those doors as a nation, and as a nation we would go to war. And now we would have to kill and unleash a fury against another country. I saw in my country's leaders and military officers a strong belief that war was necessary, and a powerful grief because war was necessary. When you're at a memorial for the dead, how do you feel any gladness that you will soon put other people to grief?

It was a moment of grand sorrow and grimness. The future was an enormous weight of unknown factors. I put my hands together and prayed for wisdom for our leaders, and I asked God to keep us from errors in judgement.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six



  4:34 AM
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
  Calvinist Atrocities Against Grace

This commentary by the gentle (and sometimes furry, but only in fictional settings) Ra, from her blog:

I must say, I am shamelessly addicted to feedback…I just enjoy hearing from people.
…
Except when people send me Calvinistic propaganda in e-mail. I received a note last night, informing me of the error of my ways and inviting me to "take up the challenge" to examine the beauties of Calvinism. I might perhaps have given this message a little more consideration had the author not dismissed Parkinson's The Faith of God's Elect as nothing more than a "rehashing of Pelagius and Arminius". Which, to me, proved that the author of said e-mail had not actually read the book at all, or if he had, it was with a mind so prejudiced that he didn't even notice what Parkinson was actually saying.
…
I might also have considered the e-mail more favourably had it not been couched in the kind of condescending and bullying tones (though fortunately, it stopped short of open insult) that I have regrettably come to expect from most Calvinists when addressing non-Calvinists. Evidently they regard it as their divine mission to convert evangelicals to Calvinism; I hope I may be pardoned for wondering where this particular version of the Great Commission is found in Scripture.

I also wonder, if this doctrine truly deepens the believer's spiritual understanding, why are so many of its adherents so unChristlike?
===END QUOTED SECTION===


This type of commentary saddens me, as I am a Calvinist. I can give Rebecca an easy answer on one front. In spite of an appreciation of the necessity of Grace, I often behave in an unchristlike way because of this damned depravity that is in me and all through me. The powerful effect of this depravity is true of all Calvinists and all non-Calvinists.

However, I attended Bob Jones University and saw for myself what happened to many students who embraced Calvinism. (It happened to me, at first, until I repented.) They became combative, challenged authority, and stooped to the most vile criticisms, backbitings, and whisperings against godly men who disagreed with them that I have ever heard come out of anybody’s mouth.

At BJU we had a powerful clique that attended Faith Free Presbyterian church, and the members of this clique promptly condemned people right and left, convinced a girl to leave BJU over the Calvinism issue (and she was a needy young woman who would have benefited by staying, and that reproach has never left the individual who guided her into leaving. His ministry has been dry ever since then and always will be unless he repents of that gross sin of bending a weaker person to his will.)

Ultimately, I was ostracized by this group of self-appointed Calvinist heroes, and by then I did not care because my head was getting clear. I repented of my arrogance about Calvinism and returned to the true call of the Christian, which is to know and comprehend salvation in Christ and serve Christ. Yes, I am a 5-point Calvinist, and we certainly have not cornered the market on arrogance in Christianity, but I have observed what Rebecca has observed: the irony of these Calvinist crusaders is that if they really believed in the sovereignty of God’s grace, they could keep their mouths shut, serve cheerfully and with composure, and let the Spirit of God work. But they don’t. And their actions indicate a mind convinced of the doctrine, but a heart that is far from grace.

A few days ago, I was perusing my site meter to see where hits were coming from, and I ran across this amazing line in a browser tracker in the site meter:


ncf.ca
IP Address
134.117.137.# (Various Registries)
[snip]
Browser:
Default
Ransom was here. In your face, free-willies!

So this guy who bills himself as Ransom and posts on the FFF, now goes through the web spouting defiance to those “free willies” (a slang term for a non-Calvinist). I’ve warned Ransom already that he’s a slave to hostility, and the current Mar-Uranus configuration will undo him. He, of course, is inflamed even further by these warnings (which is also sort of predictable, with or without the stars), yet he continues to provide me with abundant evidence that I am right.

His behavior, of course, is completely opposed to Grace. As is the behavior of so many in the IFB Reformation who have discovered the Doctrines of Grace and now use them to bash the brethren without mercy and without consideration of what these people have been through already at the hands of power-mad pastors, elders, and deacons.

I can only say here what I said to Rebecca in an open comment on her blog: There is one great beauty to the concept of salvation by sovereign grace, which calvinist and non-calvinist alike may agree on: that no matter how grievously we sin, Christ has purposed to save those that are His to the uttermost. He cannot fail in that divine purpose. What a relief (as one who has sinned grievously and---in spite of a genuine desire not to do so anymore---will continue to sin grievously) to know that He will not let go, will not be shocked, will not be deterred, and will surely be victorious because His Grace is greater than my will.

Bear in mind, that many who know *about* grace do not truly know grace, and I have seen many a Calvinist provide abundant evidence that the grace he argues about with such vehemence has never converted his soul.

Resting on the sovereignty of grace is given to those of us who have been overwhelmed by the truly rotten things we have done. He gives us this assurance, which can be defended from Scripture, that He has purposed to save us and conform us to His image, and He will be victorious. As for the mechanics of how that is done, even I, a five-point Calvinist, care little for the differences between believers on that agency.

Please don't lump us all together. In good conscience, I am a five-point Calvinist, but not just intellectually. When I am sick of myself, I find Him my Saviour every day of my life.  8:22 AM
 
"Fiction doesn't lie, but it can't tell the whole truth." - Flannery O'Connor
As I mentioned before, fiction cannot be a standalone tool for evangelism. God has ordained that preaching the Word of God is the means by which the Gospel will go forth victoriously. The Gospel must be clearly and directly expounded. Fiction can be used as an adornment for Truth, but it can no more be the engine of truth than a pearl necklace can serve as the fanbelt for a tank.

When well-meaning but misguided Christians try to use fiction to expound Truth, they end up with an emotional appeal that, at best, temporarily deceives the reader into thinking a true conversion of his or her heart has taken place, thus inviting a false and misguided profession of faith. At worst, they create such a lopsided, lumbering literary entity that it invites scorn for the sacred ideas of the Gospel and turns readers into cynics.

Fiction relies upon indirection and cannot replace or even meaningfully complement the direction of ideas that good sermons use.

It is possible to write very truthful fiction. Indeed, when the indirection of fiction is respected and the writer works within the confines and limits of fiction, the writer can produce very powerful fiction. Any tool used properly achieves its maximum potential. That still doesn't make fiction evangelistic, but it does mean the writer can produce a literature that refreshes the Christian with the truths that the Christian has learned by preaching and study. Fiction shows the beauty of the truths, and good fiction demonstrates the loveliness of goodness and the horror of evil.

When I taught college English to freshmen, I noticed that they responded to straightforward, good vs. bad stories about the same way that I did. Story itself still had the power to hold their interest. We always started the English 102 semester with a quick review of some of literature's best known legends and epics. I'd start with the Pardoner's Tale from Chaucer: "Three Young men and Death," and this grimly ironic tale set them up for an introduction of narrating and discussing stories. And when I moved on to the Wife of Bath's Tale (simply telling it to them in my own words to give them an idea of the wit and feel of it), they would soon realize that this was truly "story time." They would relax and listen, surprised that a bit of English class could be genuinely entertaining. The tale from the Wife of Bath sets up a riddle for a doomed knight: "What do women want?" If he can answer this by the end of one year, his life will be spared.

As my students and I followed this knight through the story together, they were as interested and ready to guess at possible answers as any fourteenth century audience. They ventured their own guesses, and learned to repeat the riddle on cue as I would tell them the story. The answer (which I am not going to give away here) always pleased them and brought a lot of laughs. In our first class, we would cover many quick narrations of famous stories, of adventurous bits of English history, of true events that had been immortalized in poems.

That first class was designed to awaken them to the power of story, and they usually responded with enthusiasm by the end. I'm glad that they could still respond, for I believe that the role of story is to feed the human soul's desire to see the glorious triumph of goodness and rightness. In time, perhaps the cynicism that is so overwhelmingly marketed to teenagers and twentysomethings may take away the basic needs of the soul that they can still feel. Pretty soon, if the ultra-secularized, exceptionally shallow and oversexed commercial communications industry has its way, all things worthy of consideration and reflection will be imitated by worthless counterparts. (Rather like what Disney has done with The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Hercules.)

Eventually, if our society of marketing and packaging has its way, ethics and values will be reduced in the minds of men and women to mere social mores and outward behaviors rather than absolutes. At that point, story will become mere entertainment on an almost purely sensual level, and a tale will be evaluated on its shock value, graphic detail, special effects, music, and technical accomplishment rather than on what it is actually about. Because, by that time, the stories that people read or watch will not really be about anything at all. A story will be something that acts on the reader's senses rather than appealing to his mind and personality.

We Christians have a responsibility to continue to produce a genuine literature---not a collection of Chick Tracts or "Burning Hell" type films, but a true literature. We must adorn Truth with stories, poems, and films worthy of the beauty and glory of Truth. That means including unpleasant truths and not pretending them away. It means making Grace triumphant and not man triumphant in our stories. Part of a beautiful literature means including the depiction of hideous evil so that it's horror is evident and the reader recognizes that its threat is real. And the reader has to recognize that this hideous evil is in us, Christians, and we are kept from it by a Power greater than what we are.

We all come into this world and continue through it with a priori needs and desires that can be appealed to by means of story. Until those parts of us are killed or repressed into oblivion, story can continue to awaken us to the glory and the mystery that surrounds us, and it can heighten our awareness of the importance of the role that each of us can play. We are, each of us, our own story, but we hear the tale told intentively, from end to end, only when our lives are ending or are over. I'm afraid that--in losing sight of the struggle between good and evil in stories--we are in danger of losing sight of the struggle of good and evil in ourselves.

The secular world can take this away from us by depicting a world where everythng is relative. But Christian fiction can (and has,in part) deprive us of our vision of the cosmic battle by deceiving us about ourselves (presenting Christians as already good, and not as sinners being sanctified) and deceiving us about the lives we are called to live (by depicting all of our struggles ending prematurely by "Santa Claus" answers to prayer or sudden raptures that remove us from the call to take up the cross and follow Christ). Bad Christian fiction can deceive just as much as bad secular fiction, and that is the danger. The irony about fiction is that in order to write really good fiction, the Christian must always tell the truth.
What Makes Fiction Succeed
The Purpose of Fiction
The Structure of Fiction
The Design of Fiction
The Action of Fiction
The Integrity of Fiction

  5:46 AM
 
When our world changed forever Part 6. Wednesday (Sept 12) an unexpected sound in the dark night outside caused me to jump awake. I listened for a moment, holding my breath. But it was unmistakable: a plane was flying overhead. But all commercial and private planes had been grounded.
I sat up in the darkness, then swung my feet over the side of the bed and onto the floor, and I listened. For a moment I thought the sound might be a distant truck that was too loud and coming too fast down the narrow highway a block from my house. But after a prolonged pause as I waited for some telltale sound of gears or brakes, I realized that it was certainly a plane. It was flying pretty low and was making a wide circle above, never going too far away before returning again.

The moments ticked by in the darkness. I could feel myself breathing with a slight laboring in my chest, afraid of this unexpected and significant sound. I debated about getting up and switching on the television, then decided against it. Whatever was happening, nobody was equipped to report on it. Then the reality of my situation came back to me. A terrorist plane would not have a target in a suburb of Raleigh.

There had been rumors of crop dusters possibly being used to drop chemical agents or even biological agents on widespread areas, but I still doubted that a suburb of Raleigh would have the number of people per square foot to make an attack worthwhile. That was the moment, though, that I knew my life had changed forever. No more freedom from fear. Now I knew that the horrors that stalked the other nations of the world stalked my nation, too.

Finally, the sound of the plane became more faint. It gradually faded away. The next day, some people at work asked if anybody else had heard it, but the best we could guess was that it had been a military plane on reconnaissance.

By now rumors were flying fast of a possible second wave of attacks. I live in a hurricane-prone region, so I already maintained a few big Rubbermaid tubs of dried soups, powdered food, matches, emergency candles, a sterno stove and sterno candles, a propane stove and half a dozen small camp canisters, and--of course---a carton of bottled water. I looked into emergency preparedness for terrorism. To my surprise, there was no single, comprehensive guide to prepare for emergencies created by terrorism.

Non-stop since the morning before, I had been asking the Lord what He wanted me to do. And now I found at least one task. I was surrounded by brilliant people who knew about chemical interactions and medicine. And I had the whole internet. Work was hanging fire at Glaxo, and I asked my manager if I could create an Emergency Preparedness guideline in my spare work time, to give to people for free. He said yes.
This was another lesson in grace and graciousness. I went to the misc.survivalism newsgroup and read dozens of posts. These were hardcore survivalists. They'd been warning about an event like this for decades. And the newsgroup was being peppered by frightened newcomers. People wanted guidance and explanations. Everybody wanted gas masks. I felt sure that trolls would jump on me for my naivete, but I asked if the oldtimers on the newsgroup would help me compile a FAQ of Emergency Preparedness for domestic terrorism. To my surprise, nobody flamed me for my clear ignorance of these topics, and nobody tried to take over the project (which I would have allowed). Instead, the experienced and well read survivalists contributed lists of information and advice.

After some thought about ways to classify emergencies, I organized the FAQ based on survival needs: Air, water, and food were the crucial factors in survival, and I arranged them in the order of what is most vital to life first--air. This, of course, included a long discussion on gas masks, which was the very hottest topic at the time. I followed with water, and then food. Then I realized that shelter would be a close fourth to the top three. After that, in view of emergency scenarios, medical treatment would be vital if people survived an initial attack by terrorists. And the survivalists talked a lot about "bugging out." We had seen this on 9/11: the masses of human beings stranded far from home when the towers collapsed. There ought to be a few handy, lifesaving items around to help a person. These are kept at the office, in the car, and at home. When you put these things together where you can get them quickly in an emergency, you have a "bug out bag." So the final outline was built on this structure:

  • Air

  • Water

  • Food

  • Shelter,

  • Resuscitation/Recovery/First Aid,

  • Relocation/Evacuation ("bugging out")


    • Then under each heading I described emergency requirements in order of ascending danger and necessity. Many of the regulars in the group offered me information. Geoffrey Hardin and Benjamin Klingler provided enormous support and information, and they were unfailingly kind about helping. And Benjamin represented a strata of survivalists I had never encountered before: the openly peaceful, cooperative type who believes that catastrophe is unavoidable in the long run but asserts that group cooperation, rather than tough, isolated individualism, is the likeliest way for people to survive in extreme emergency.

    I worked day and night on the FAQ, e-mailing it home from work and compiling it into the late night hours. When the first draft was ready, I submitted it to the newsgroup ands asked for comments. I incorporated corrections and then posted the Emergency Preparedness FAQ for Domestic Terrorism. I adorned the top of it with a cross, a salute to the heroes of Flight 93, and an admonitory Bible verse, "The Lord is my portion, sayeth my soul; therefore will I hope in Him," reminding people that we must trust in God and not in ourselves. From the first day it was posted, the Emergency Preparedness FAQ was hit so many times that traffic stopped on my site. I had 6000 hits on it in the first month. It was a necessary work, and I was thankful that the Lord entrusted me to do it. And I was amazed once again at the work of the grace of God where I had not thought to see it.

    Christian Fundamentalists actually teach that the grace of God is abandoning the nation, that the country is doomed because of the sins of the lost, that we won't find compassion, mercy, or generosity "out there." Now I was learning the real truth of the Grace of God. It is Christ who labored, and Grace is under His dispensation. The Holy Spirit moves where He wills, and though we can detect where He has been, we cannot identify where He goes or what He's accomplishing. The hard, bitter words of Fundamentalists, their suspicion of everything and everyone, their reluctance to yield, their rigid power structures, all show a lack of grace. No wonder they don't comprehend what Grace is or where it can be found. My heart is the heart of a rigid and cold Fundamentalist, but Grace began to abound to me.

    On Thursday Sept. 13, Jerry Falwell made his astonishing declaration that "I really believe that the pagans and the abortionists and the feminists and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way, all of them who try to secularize America...I point the thing in their face and say you helped this happen." Yet Falwell very neatly missed the far more flagrant sins of Christian Fundamentalism, which claims to obey the Bible (unlike secular unbelievers, many of whom do not have a clue as to what the Bible teaches), yet has sheltered secret abortions, pornography, child abuse, and rampant sexual sin, including sodomy, behind a facade of self righteousness.

    Jerry Falwell preached for a Hyles Anderson commencement in the 1970's, and he preached at First Baptist of Hammond. Yet he has never confronted the gross sin there, the flagrant abuse of power, the young lives harmed, the doctrinal errors. He knew, just as we all knew, about David Hyles being thrown out of Miller Road Baptist Church in Garland Texas for gross sexual impropriety. And he had to know, as we all know, that there were Fundamental Baptist churches that welcomed Dave back into their pulpits, even after the evidence of child abuse in Brent Stevens and his mysterious death.

    Yet Jerry Falwell has never said a word from the pulpit about any of this, and to this day while confronting the gross sins of those who don't even know the Gospel, he has never confronted the gross sins of those who profess Christ. Joe Combs was on faculty at Hyles-Anderson when Falwell preached the commencement service, and Falwell has never censured him from the pulpit for the repeated rape and vile abuse of the woman formerly known as Esther Combs, a pattern of abuse that began when she was a mere child. Does Jerry Falwell actually think that God will judge the lost for sins they don't even comprehend but spare the church for sheltering and hiding gross evils that it does comprehend?

    When I heard what he said, with Pat Robertson grinning and agreeing (in spite of the later distance he put between himself and Falwell), I prayed for God to spare us from further indignation. But that deep horror of his trivializing of the just wrath of God has never left me. Who, in the day of judgement, can dare to point a finger at others and excuse himself? When God, Who prefers mercy to wrath, and declares Himself the defender of the widow and the fatherless, actually throws down the mightiest buildings in the world, what human being who fears Him can dare to do anything else but ask for mercy and be sorry over his or her own sin?

    Let the truth be clear. For though I do abhor the actions of those who would secularize our culture and reduce man to a descendent of apes, I know that God throws down the idols of those He judges. He did not destroy gay bars or the headquarters of the ACLU. He destroyed the bastion of middle class trust, the structure that stood for conservative, smart economics, and He struck a deadly blow at American military strength. Let's be clear whose idols were destroyed--not the idols of the gays, the liberals, the atheists. But our idols: the icons of investment and smart money and 401Ks and having money in the bank. And the icon of military strength. He threw down what conservative Americans believe in and trust.

    On Thursday evening, the stress of interviewing so many people who were searching for their loved ones began to tell on the news reporters. A young woman for Fox News (as far as I recall), shed tears out on the street when a group of anxious people pleaded with her to let them show their pictures to the cameras. And Dan Rather, interviewing a young man who was looking for his brother, was suddenly unable to speak when the young man shook his hand and thanked him for letting him describe his brother and show his picture. In terms of journalism, I knew it was a situation that cynical journalists could exploit. On the other hand, it was not inappropriate for professional journalists to shed tears in the face of such sorrow and need.

    And later, when Dan Rather (defending himself for not wearing a flag pin on his lapel during news casts) said, "I wear the American flag on my heart," I believed him. I have seldom agreed with Dan Rather about politics or values, but I respected him with a new respect from our sorrow, in spite of the distance between us as human beings. And I prayed for him and the other journalists, for I realized that surely they were seeing horrors they could never broadcast. You reach a point where you realize that people you've been taught to distrust and despise are protecting you, and protecting your children, and protecting the vulnerabilities of the people of the whole country, from horrors that would demoralize all of us. In the way that they knew how, they were defending America too. And I was (and still am) very grateful to them for insisting on a certain dignity, even in the horrible tragedy.
    Part One

    Part Two

    Part Three

    Part Four

    Part Five

    Part Six

    Part Seven


      1:02 AM
    Tuesday, September 09, 2003
     
    The Integrity of Fiction: Diluted Fiction is Poor Fiction. When Christian writers try to make fiction serve a purpose for which it is not designed, they produce bad fiction. Story after story about characters committing a sin and then being found out, experiencing mishap, or being eaten up with guilt form a deceptive literature. And a literature that is deceptive (or propagandistic) will be challenged by other stories about characters who never get caught, who succeed admirably by doing wrong, and who never think twice (or actually seem more charming) because they openly adhere to unscrupulous devices. Worse, deceptive literature will be challenged by reality.

    Even in the parables of our Lord, we see that the dutiful son resents the repentant prodigal, and the story ends that way. The "permanent employees" of the vineyard resent the "temps", and the story ends with the Master of the Vineyard uttering his decree that he rules the money and will pay as he sees fit. The brief, pointed parables of Christ don't stretch the reader's credibility about human nature. Even the sorrowful prodigal is pretty clueless at the end of his own triumphant story. He comes back ready to be a servant just so he can eat, fully aware of how wrong and greedy he has been. The joy of his father and his reinstatement show that the prodigal has not yet comprehended his father's mind. Christ did not belabor the state of mind of the prodigal; nor did He stretch the story to show reconciliation between the two brothers.

    If fiction tries to bend reality, fiction descends into mere propaganda, and the savvy reader quickly throws it away and moves on to better fiction. Because the ultimate reality is the truth of God, fiction can rest on Truth and should be the adornment of it. That means that fiction has to reflect the truth about us and not depict us as we want to be depicted. Christian fiction has a bad habit of depicting Christians as good people, which is contrary to truth. We are not good people. We are depraved sinners. I think the greatest flaw of Christian fiction is that it sets out to show that Christian people are good and non-Christian people are bad. The truth is, everybody's bad. We are all completely dependent on the grace of God, whether we know that or not, and whether we act on that dependence or not. That doesn't mean that fiction must show anti-heroes, but it does mean that fiction must avoid making its characters too perfect. A few flaws, presented without hesitation, make a better representation of the Truth that governs all of us.


    And a lot of Christian fiction relies on emotional manipulation to "get decisions" or at least evoke belief from people; but because fiction sets up a world completely under the control of a human author, fiction cannot be genuinely persuasive. The emotions, however powerful, that it generates in the reader are temporary. Therefore, fiction cannot be the basis of imparting truth or making a sustainable commitment to action. Once the emotion wears off, the reader begins to change his mind. Once he gets the story back into perspective, he goes back to what he was.

    But fiction can adorn truth and give us profound insights into the truths that we comprehend. When the "mirror of reality" is well crafted, the reader can look deeply and frequently and see himself or herself, recognize common situations in the most uncommon of landscapes, and ponder the statements made by fiction. That is what fiction can do. Because the culture of Evangelical Christianity has tried to make fiction do what it cannot do, that culture has produced a lamentable literature that is---at best---forgettable, and at worst, an open deception about the way that life, salvation, and Christian experience itself all work. Instead of fashioning a beautiful adornment of Truth, we have saddled ourselves with something that reveals to the world our hypocrisies and blind spots.

    And there is also the flip side of this: As important as it is for fiction to remain purely what it is, the sermon form suffers even more if it is diluted improperly with fictional elements. The Lord Jesus used parables to illustrate, but His parables were brief, pointed, and focused on the sermon. This is why he ends the story of the prodigal son without telling how the two brothers ended up, and why He ends the story of the vineyard without saying how the workers accepted the Master's decree. The parable existed only long enough for Him to illustrate by analogy and then He ended the parable. His emphasis was not the story but the sermon.

    In our computer-centered lives, we could almost say that the Lord used parables as "objects" that He dropped into his sermons to clarify meaning. This use of fictional elements to clarify by analogy is obviously approved by God. But many sermons since then have failed by using fictional elements for other purposes: driving up emotion, entertaining the listeners, proving (rather than explaining) a point.

    I make the claim that fiction that becomes sermonistic fails to be convincing as fiction. But the truth of greater impact is that sermons that descend into "story and adventure hour" begin to detract from Truth. It's bad form to dilute fiction. It's theological perversion to dilute sermons.

    One of the greatest benefits of the Protestant Reformation was the reforming of the sermon form and the scholarly study of what makes a good sermon. The preaching of the Word of God requires scholarship and sound reasoning. Overuse of the elements of fiction in sermons demonstrates that the preacher has neither of the first two requirements.
    What Makes Fiction Succeed
    The Purpose of Fiction
    The Structure of Fiction
    The Design of Fiction
    The Action of Fiction
    The Limits of Fiction      7:22 AM
     
    When our world changed forever Part 5
    I went in to work on Wednesday. It was impossible to get to CNN or Foxnews from the computers at work. They were jammed. A few people had radios discreetly playing on news stations. Nobody was working, and nobody expected us to be working. The company was international and had closed all work sites halfway through the previous morning. Wednesday morning found the company administration still tracking down all people scheduled to travel on September 11. Later in the morning, after painstakingly confirming every traveling employee's safety, they verified over e-mail that all Glaxo employees and contractors were safe.

    James Ward, a brilliant man who created applications to correlate DNA data (and for whom I documented software and created training manuals), explained to me the physics of what had happened when the towers collapsed. I was still thinking of and praying for any survivors down in the rubble. James conveyed to me a more accurate idea of the tremendous weight and force of those concrete floors and girders coming straight down on top of each other. There could be no survivors, not even in the stairwell areas. Indeed, there would not be so much as a splash of blood left of many of those poor people. They had disappeared forever.

    I still hoped that somehow, people had gotten into the very foundation areas of the building, perhaps down into the subway tunnels. We kept trying to calculate how many people had died, and based on our own office space and building occupancy, we supposed that the death toll must be around 10,000.
    Steve Henry came in, and I told him I thought the dream from August 28th had been about this. He was startled at my assessment, and he didn't think so. But in spite of his skepticism, he remained kind, as he always did.

    I realized that the people I worked with were all smarter and better educated than I am, yet they were gracious. They never made fun of me or slighted my efforts to grasp the complex ideas about DNA, the correlation of data, or the metabolic pathways of disease that they batted around all the time. Quite the contrary: Steve had explained many concepts to me with painstaking care, for no other reason than that I had asked him to help me understand. And James had found it necessary to explain the way his latest software application worked to me, twice, end to end, before I comprehended how it worked so that I could document the software commands effectively.

    That's how the people at Glaxo were. To find the mockery, boasting, and belittling of others, you have to log in at the Fighting Fundamentalist Forums, and I did. But on September 12th it was not endurable, and I loathed myself for having been a part of it, a part of them. Yet they were just as much a part of me. There was no point in pretending I'm not just like the self righteousness, hypocrisy, and arrogance on the FFF. I'm just like that. That was why I had to log out again. I couldn't stand to see myself and what I was in the day of God's judgment.

    And yet, oddly, my despair of myself did not depress me as it has at other times when I have despaired of myself. Rather, I felt like a patient stricken with cancer who, accepting the worst, now listens intently to the full diagnosis from a doctor whose wisdom can mend things. I understood that He will fix me, but it would be catastrophically stupid to ever suppose myself intrinsically healthy. And, of course, there have always been people who post on the FFF who have this understanding of their dependence on the Great Physician in abundance. Regrettably, there are many who---like me----view themselves as having overcome what they are and so become their own reference points as the surgeons, nurses, and experts on curing others. And the worst part of that is, they tend to be the pastors, elders, deacons, evangelists, and they hand out railing and reviling as though it were their duty to do so.

    The flags at Glaxo were at half staff. I had come in before six, so I left at two. The day, in an almost shocking disregard for the horrors of the previous morning, was clear and sunny, the sky so blue it seemed very near and yet also far away. As I pulled in at home, I wondered how in a creation so lovely and sweet, overflowing with abundant evidence of joy in heaven, such horrible events had ever taken place. But in the heart of all that shock and grief, more surprises about the abundant grace of God awaited me.

    I got home and did what most other Americans did--switched on the news. Three firefighters at the rubble of the WTC, only hours after the great and catclysmic loss, had raised an American flag among the rubble and ruin. The newsclip about their deed had been running throughout the morning. That first gesture, pure in heart and unassuming, opened a door to my new understanding of my own country. The next thing I saw was that the New York City Police had to turn away people who were bringing water and bandages to Ground Zero.

    On the FFF, virtual talk had been loud about who had done this, and what we would do to them. Some type of Middle Eastern terrorist group was obviously behind it. And in spite of condemnation of the attacks by the Taliban of Afghanistan, evidence that they'd had a hand in the attacks was growing. A great deal of scorn had been expressed by many of the preachers on the FFF, and there was the usual sabre rattling by men who have never so much as put up their fists to defend a helpless victim, or spoken a word on behalf of those like Brent Stevens who had suffered such a short and cruel life.

    Meanwhile, Bishop Kenneth Angell, a Roman Catholic bishop (whose theology I oppose), had lost his brother, David Angell, and David's wife Lynne. A news reporter stopped him on his way to morning service and asked him for his reaction. In effect, he said, "I don't understand why they killed my brother and those people. But the Lord says we are to forgive our enemies, so I forgive them, and I pray for them." Stung by his words, I also prayed for our enemies, that they would not be hardened from remorse over what they had done to innocent people.

    But most stunning, and certainly the most sobering and rending thing to see, was a story of a young woman whose live-in boyfriend was missing. He'd been in one of the towers. And all the previous night, she, her father and brother, and a group of friends, had been walking from hospital to hospital to find him. The news commentator told us that she was just a microcosm of this. The streets were filled with people looking, waiting, lined up to see if the ambulances would bring anybody out of the rubble.

    Now, as a Christian Fundamentalist I had been told that people who lived together did not love each other as much as people who were married. And certainly, in my life I have seen many people use causal sex as a means to treat the lives of their partners as something cheap and meaningless. But this young woman's love for her fiance was anything but casual. Weeping and relentless, the camera showed her at yet another crammed hospital desk. And the weary woman who spoke to her, a short, heavyset African American woman, started to cry for her as the young woman asked if she had seen this man in the picture that she showed.

    How many times had that overworked woman heard that question in the last 24 hours, I wondered. You'd think any human being would become snappish and angry just as a means of self defense to protect herself from going mad in the face of such overwhelming desperation and grief from so many people. But she came around the desk and gave the young lady directions to get around the rubble and road blocks to the next hospital. And, weeping and resolute, the young woman thanked the woman from the desk and went on her way to go and continue searching for him.

    A medical doctor had gone with his video camera and medical bag into the ground zero area after the first tower came down, ready to go in with a team of rescuers to get wounded people stable and then get them ambulanced out. While he was in close proximity, the second tower came down. He dived under a truck for cover and jammed his head into his bag. And then, video camera still running, he walked through the thick gray cloud, looking for injured people. That eerie, horrible, compelling walk was the first documentary of the devastation. At that point, though he had made his tape available to news stations, he was too overwhelmed to speak in public about his experience. For, of course, there had been no survivors.

    Another building at the World Trade Center block collapsed and there were fears that others would crumble as well. And yet still the firefighters and rescue workers were looking for survivors. But I remembered James' explanation of the force generated by the chute-type collapse of those towers, and though I hoped they would find people in the subway tunnel, I realized that nobody caught in those towers could have survived. I was sure that a lot of the rescuers knew it, too, but they had to try. That's grace, too---to not force hopelessness onto others even when you know it's hopeless, but rather to work and let time begin to tell them what you already know, so that they can accept it, too.

    The people who were searching began to take up more and more of the news casters' time on camera. It was too heart rending not to listen to them and not to look at the pictures of the missing that they held up. But I, like most other Americans, knew by the afternoon of September 12 that all of those people were dead.

    But by Wednesday night there clearly was a change in the sensibility of the nation. An America that I had been told was long gone emerged: compassionate, generous, brave, and even optimistic. And she was willing to labor and give sweat and blood without anybody asking her to do so. By Wednesday night, flags were displayed as though in triumph from the wreckage at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, and people lined the streets from the WTC to cheer the weary firefighters. And the firehouses, turned into shrines in the front to remember the dead, had become repositories for all the generosity that the people of New York, and then the people of America, could give. Even in Raleigh, and in every other American city, people were quickly organizing to give blood, food, money, and expertise to help at the attack sites. Grace, I realized is much more vast and rich than what I had ever been told, and graciousness is the emblem of Grace. Somewhere, outside of Christian Fundamentalism, the fountain of Grace was pouring out to succor the grieving and the terrified.

    I still believed (and believe now) that God in judgment brought down the towers and caused the Pentagon to suffer that humiliating and devastating strike. Yet it was clear that this was not the only part of the story. Even the wrath of God falls according to His grace to men, to show them that their ways subvert their hearts from Him:

    Lamentations 3:31-40
    For the Lord will not cast off for ever:
    But though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies.
    For he doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men.
    To crush under his feet all the prisoners of the earth,
    To turn aside the right of a man before the face of the most High,
    To subvert a man in his cause, the Lord approveth not.
    Who [is] he [that] saith, and it cometh to pass, [when] the Lord commandeth [it] not?
    Out of the mouth of the most High proceedeth not evil and good?
    Wherefore doth a living man complain, a man for the punishment of his sins?
    Let us search and try our ways, and turn again to the LORD.

    Part One

    Part Two

    Part Three

    Part Four

    Part Five

    Part Six

    Part Seven



      1:00 AM
    Monday, September 08, 2003
     
    The purpose of Fiction is to introduce profound insights; Fiction cannot adequately persuade
    Fiction relies on indirection. It enters the mind through the side doors of the senses and the emotions. Sermons, on the other hand, enter through the front gate of reason, relying on evidence, rational sequencing of ideas, and ramifications of mutually agreed upon premises. Because it succeeds through indirection, fiction's greatest moments come when it enhances, deepens, widens our experiences of what we already believe. Great fiction adds profound insight to our accepted ideas.

    We know from reading the Bible that the apostles and disciples were men of frailty as we are---people subject to sin. In C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, the apparent humanity of Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy add a dimension to that which we already know. We see them elevated to the level of royalty, but we also see that they are made of the same stuff that makes us. This insight into the ordinariness of all of us, apostles and disciples and modern Christians alike all a dimension to our understanding about what Grace has accomplished.

    Fiction makes a poor persuader. To get the reader to act, fiction has to hit those emotional chords very hard, so hard that emotion closes the gates of reason and takes over. It *has* been done. Many a young teenager has sat through the aged Fundamentalist film, The Burning Hell and been scared witless by it. In fact, they get scared so witless that they walk that aisle, pray that prayer, and sign the card. Obviously, if you put one image after another of people suffering in hell and dot the stream of images with a few sermon excerpts you'll scare a few kids into "making decisions." What you don't have is genuine conversion to Christ. And let the viewer get a little older, and you will find that you have produced a cynic who now recognizes that his or her emotions were played upon to evoke a desired action. This is why propaganda never becomes great literature: a sizable part of the intended audience outgrows it or gets wise.


    So even though some fiction can hammer the sensitive emotions of vulnerable readers sometimes, the effect of long term persuasion fails. Fiction helps us embrace what we know further. It adds the glow, the warmth, the glory to truths that we have comprehended. Additionally, Fiction adds the insights of genuine horror, sorrow, and that sense of tragedy to our knowledge of evil. But when fiction tips over too far into raw emotion, prompting a confused or half-formed decision, the fiction usually falls apart.

    Certainly, if you get away with overwhelming the reader once, you won't be able to consistently overwhelm the reader. The mind will spring back long before the emotions do. A person who researches may grow weary and need rest. But the necessity of resolving a problem or question will bring the person back to the research. On the other hand, overly emotional stories or---even worse----stories that emotionally blackmail the reader, will kill the reader's ability to enjoy them. This is why so many readers of Christian fiction drop away from it. It's also why those Sunday School magazine stories never make it into hardbound collections. Christian fiction relies far too much on emotional manipulation of the reader, and this works only until the reader outgrows that manipulation or becomes cynical.

    Christians are not to engage in emotional manipulation, ever. We have an honest God, and He expects honesty from us. Good sermons do not descend into sentimental stories or joke-telling or cheap emotional devices to bring out the hankies or evoke fleshly decision making. Sermons are there to evoke decisions. The means that God has ordained to convert souls on this earthis the preachng of the Gospel. Therefore, let every preacher fearfully examine his sermons and make sure that they preach the Gospel and do not entice the flesh by fleshly entertainment or sentimentality.

    Similarly, good fiction does not try to call to action. It rests on truth and becomes the ornament of truth. And because fiction relies upon indirection, fiction is subtle. Now, some readers protest. What is so subtle about a Louie L'Amour character shooting it out with the bad guys, or the Doctor being stalked by a mind-eating machine that will drive him mad? Actually, these stories, even the more florid among them, are deftly handling Truth. We get so caught up in the taut predicament of the good guy with only five slugs left in his gun and a dozen outlaws out there that we forget it's not real. The idea of a "mind eating" machine that could actually move right through the walls of the enormous prison where Jo and the Doctor are being held captive by mutinying prisoners tremendously intrigued me as a young writer. Here was a story where the bad guys were also threatened----a story of graduated evil.


    What these slam-bang stories have that so much Christian fiction lacks is a subtle presentation of the most basic truth about good and evil: that good, however it is pressed by the complex and cruel devices of evil, will overcome. Louie L'Amour succeeds when he shows the smart sheriff outwitting the outlaws, using the darkness of night, his own steady nerves, and the fears of outlaws to get them to show themselves or shoot each other. The Doctor, spared momentarily because the forces of evil want to enslave him rather than immediately kill him, gains a tremendous insight that he shares with the viewer: the evil that is stalking them will never take allies but will kill them all. It will never indenture itself as an ally to the people who think they have reached an agreement with it, not when it can seize power and control. These far flung stories are more believable and have greater impact (especially on young minds) than so many Christian stories precisely because these dime-novel stories don't sermonize but let the reader see the actions of good and evil.

    What Makes Fiction Succeed
    The Purpose of Fiction
    The Structure of Fiction
    The Design of Fiction
    The Integrity of Fiction
    The Limits of Fiction


      3:11 PM
     

    When our world changed forever Part 4
    Part of the agony of 9/11 was not knowing. Word kept coming that the President was here; then he was there. Finally it seemed pretty certain that he was at a strategic command location in Nebraska. He issued a taped statement early in the day. But by afternoon he had not been seen live on television since he'd been flown out of an elementary school in Florida. Reports started filtering through that entire firehouse companies may have been lost in the collapse of the towers. And rumors of planes not yet accounted for persisted into the mid-afternoon and then disappeared from the newscasts without explanation. And over everything hung two questions---how many people had been killed? and What would happen next? All commercial and private aircraft had been grounded, and yet the fear of another surprise attack lingered for days.

    By the late afternoon, I was exhausted and filled with sorrow as most Americans were, fearful for my country and grief stricken from realizing that those desperate people who had been waving shirts and impromptu flags from windows of the World Trade Center, signaling for help, were all dead. And worse, what I at first mistook for flying leaves outside the windows on some of the blurry shots turned out to be people who had thrown themselves from burning mayhem on the floors that had been engulfed in flame from the jet fuel. I went on my knees several times, deliberately pointing myself away from the television in fear of actually falling into some sort of prayer towards it. The realization was growing that human life, all human life, was incredibly sacred and fragile. I asked God what He wanted me to do.

    Sometime around 3:00, Rudy Guiliani addressed the nation. I think he meant it to be a news conference, but it was the first national rallying call to all of us. He was calm, composed, deadly serious, sorrowful, and brave. At that moment, he was the exact remedy for the nation's fears.

    There was now word that the buildings of the Capitol had been evacuated, but in the early evening, Congress gathered on the Capitol steps. Ted Kennedy said a few brief words about their solidarity and purpose, and then they sang "God Bless America." I was stunned at their courage and dignity, and I was moved at sight of how stricken with grief some of them appeared, just as I was. They were all there, all those people I was supposed to hate: Ted Kennedy, and Hilary Clinton, and Dick Gephardt, singing right along with Arlen Specter and Orrin Hatch and the conservatives. I knew then that I had been wrong. All their lives have value, and my purpose as a Christian is to be a witness to all of them, and not declare one of them to be worthy of hatred or mockery. And certainly, in that moment, they were a brave and gallant group of people. And metaphorically they raised the first American middle finger to whoever had done this, in a very dignified way, but we all knew that was what they were doing. Because when we heard them sing, we did it too. I didn't want to kill anybody (though I knew there would have to be reprisals), but I also wanted to be defiant to our attackers. So the best way to raise the middle finger is to sing a song with honor and solidarity, and everybody knows that's what you've also done, but without being crude.

    And then Bush returned to the White House, determined to maintain the national level of self control and composure that the country had already begun to evidence. And he spoke to the nation that night, briefly. I had not thought highly of Bush until then, but when he spoke to the nation in a brief, terse, dignified message, I felt a new confidence in him. Yet at the same time I saw how impossible his choices were. Whatever way he turned, more innocent people were going to be killed. So I did what I should have done for my President with far more regularity: I prayed for him.

    It was as though all my lack of love and concern for others was slowly unwinding before me, showing me my own hardness of heart. Yet the lesson was easy to take, for now I wanted to have the right heart, and I was convinced that God had sent that dream because I was supposed to do something. I knew that my heart had to be in the right alignment with the heart of God, which does not take pleasure in exercising punishment or letting judgement fall. God delights in mercy, and I had to learn that, and learn it quickly, I thought.

    Yet still, there had to come a point of turning out the lights and going to bed. Late in the night, safe in my pyjamas I prayed alongside my bed, and felt the weight of wondering what kind of world I would wake up to the next day. But it was impossible to ask for my life to be spared, not after having seen all those people's lives ended in a moment. So I asked God to make me brave if it was His will for me to die in a terrorist attack, and help me to have the attitude of those firemen and police. And I prayed for composure to meet the next day, no matter what should occur during the night. And then, as far as I recall, I climbed from my knees into my bed and slept without moving or dreaming. Over everything, there hung a great stillness, for the country had come to a halt.
    Part One

    Part Two

    Part Three

    Part Four

    Part Five

    Part Six

    Part Seven

      12:56 AM
    Sunday, September 07, 2003
     
    .
    Audio Dr. Who Adventure now online
    Tricked by the crafty Mr. Castanata and his own arrogance, the Doctor accidentally loses Jo in a poker game to an alien! And the alien intends to bet her in a game against creatures who find humans fun to frighten and even better to eat. The Doctor has only one chance to win her back.
    If you have a dial-up connection, this 31-minute episode may be inconvenient (or downright impossible) to download. But if you have a speedy connection, you might enjoy Episode One of the two-episode adventure, Two of a Kind, which was a runner up at the National Fan Quality Awards and was featured in the Canadian Dr. Who fan magazine, MythMakers.Click here to listen. It's in MP3 format. Episode Two has been completed and is scheduled to be available on Friday September 12.

      5:34 PM
     

    The Design of Fiction is to Illuminate Truth; not to Expound Truth

    Fiction achieves its highest purpose by indirection. It finds its strength in depicting the world as the reader experiences it and moving
    from there. Unlike the sermon form, which finds its strength by direction, the indirection of fiction requires that fiction operate by images. But only very poor fiction (such as erotic fiction) is purely experiential. Yet at the opposite extreme, fiction that discounts the experiential in order to convey a message is also poor fiction.

    Fiction must be experiential and imagistic, yet it must move these elements towards a coherent end. If it wallows in its own experiential components, fiction becomes self-serving, sentimental, and self indulgent. There has to be more to a story than an orgasm.

    Yet if the experiential and imagistic components are merely a shell, the story always fails to be compelling. A story is something other than a message or sermon. A story must be more deeply personal and intimate than a lesson plan in order to be memorable. This is why the didactic nature of so much Christian fiction produced in the 20th century has condemned it to oblivion even among Christians, and outright mockery and scorn among the readers of the secular world.

    Fiction can illuminate Truth beautifully. There are few adornments more lovely and compelling than good fiction artfully woven around the neck of Truth to bring out the eternal beauty of the face of Truth. And the best example of fiction that so beautifully adorns Truth is the fiction of CS Lewis. He does not hand the reader the plan of salvation and ask for a salvation decision at the end. Instead he focuses on illumination and adornment of truth. With that goal as the central goal of his fiction, his occasional moments of direction are not discordant.

    Fiction cannot expound truth. Though fiction is a lovely adornment of truth, it is no substitute for the directness of the sermon form. When fiction attempts to expound truth, it loses its experiential and imagistic foundation and descends into didacticism. Perhaps a sympathetic reader will agree with the lesson being pounded home (perhaps not), but he story itself will fail. It stops being a believable event, an imagistic experience in the mind of the reader. And thus, at the very best, it becomes forgettable. At worst it becomes a point of mockery and scorn and does more disservice than service to Truth.

    God has decreed that by the preaching of the Word of God, souls shall be converted. I'll discuss this more later, but we actually have a doctrinal mandate to keep stories out of sermons except as short, pointed analogies with direct meaning; and to keep fiction away from being sermons, because fiction is NOT the ordained means to preach the Gospel. Fiction can adorn the Truth, but it is not designed to expound the Truth, for fiction is experiential and subjective. It's a terrific art form but a bad way to directly impart doctrine. If we keep fiction in its proper place as an adornment, we can create and enjoy great fiction. If we try to put fiction into a place it was not intended to occupy, we will fail (and have failed) to achieve our ends to use it to teach doctrine, and we end up with boring, stilted, predictable, didactic, forgettable fiction.
    What Makes Fiction Succeed
    The Purpose of Fiction
    The Structure of Fiction
    The Action of Fiction
    The Integrity of Fiction
    The Limits of Fiction      9:56 AM
     
    Gaaaagh! Hot! Hot! Hot!
    According to Norman Walker, the late king of vegetable juicing who lived to be something like 104, horseradish juice is far too potent to drink. Therefore, it should be pulverized in a juicer, mixed with lemon,and taken one half teaspoon at a time, twice per day. Horseradish is good for those of us with allergies and sinus troubles. In Chinese medicine, horseradish gets stagnant qi to move, most often by causing it to hop up and down shouting in pain. So I figured I should try this simple recipe. I ran some peeled horseradish through my Champion Juicer with the seive set for pureeing. Aaaaagh! It never even came to a matter of tasting it. I never even got the lemon into it. Huge clouds of invisible mustard gas rose up from the juicer. I hads to run out of the kitchen, eyes streaming. I got most of it out into a jar and sealed it. But cleaning the juicer prompted another flight from the kitchen. Now the ordeal is over (except I cannot make myself open that jar to put the lemon in). The juicer is clean, the horesradish has been pureed, and my sinuses are absolutely clear!
      8:33 AM
     
    When our world changed forever Part 3
    My birthday passed on September 4. There was no word from Moody Press at that point regarding VALKYRIES, but my experience in publishing had forewarned me that even after deciding to consider the novel, a publisher would probably take months to reach a decision. And I needed the time, too, for I had a lot of misgivings about putting my life's work about grace into the hands of a commercial Christian publisher. With the advent of the lamentable Left Behind series I had serious doubts that Christian publishing would ever climb back to any level of meaningfulness in fiction (but that was before I read Jamie Turner out of Bethany House). And things were still hot in the FFF. I was very unpopular there because of my constant message that IFB Fundamentalism is falling into gross corruption because of sin and pride.
    On the morning of September 11, I had an appointment to meet one of the ladies from church at the gym, to teach her the basics on how to lift weights. We joked at my church about my mission to make Presbyterians strong. We arrived at about 8:30 that morning and got right to work: 15 minutes on the treadmill, and then to the weights. We didn't notice the people congregating back at the televisions that hung above the battery of treadmills and stairsteppers. We went through a lower body routine, finished, and went out together. A woman followed us and called to us. She told us that the second tower of the World Trade Center had just been hit. I thought she was crazy, so I just said, "Okay, thank you." She got mad and said, "Go in and see for yourself! The first tower was hit by a plane, and the Pentagon's been hit, and now the second tower's just been hit."

    My church friend and I glanced at each other and went back inside. We went to the section of the gym where all the TV's hang for the treadmill walkers to watch. And as we walked up and got into view of the screens, I saw that ball of fire in the air, and heard the people around me exclaiming in fear and concern, and my dream hit me again like a wave that crashed against me. This was what the dream had been about. I went straight to the back of the gym, and I went on my knees, and then onto my face, and I prayed, "O God, You are righteous, and everything You do is righteous. And in righteousness You are judging us. Help me to help these people now, if this is the beginning of the end of the world. Save me from my fear."

    Most people were calling home on cell phones, and we also left. As I got into my car, I decided to prepare for the worst. I drove to an ATM and withdrew three hundred dollars in cash, and then I went to the Kroger and picked up supplies. There were still people who didn't know what had happened. Something happened to me: I not only told people about the towers and the Pentagon; I started witnessing to them right off, but not in the way I'd been taught. I was worried for them---genuinely worried. I was truly afraid that they would face whatever was ahead without Christ. And for the first time in my life, I witnessed to complete strangers and never had one of them tell me to go away. I didn't win anybody to Christ, but everybody I spoke to seemed to sense that I really was very concerned for them, and they were all very gracious.

    I got back into the car and drove over to my friend Lisa's house. Lisa has three children. By now, the ramifications of what I had dreamed were hitting me. I thought that this was just the beginning, and I wanted Lisa to take her children and go out to her parents' house in the country. But Lisa met me at the door with startling news. One of the towers of the World Trade Center had collapsed. We went inside, where the television was going, just in time to see the second tower collapse. Naive as I was, I assumed that they had been evacuated. To me it was a terrible sight of judgement from God, but I assumed that everybody was out. I had no real concept of how big those buildings were. Lisa told me there were people still inside them. She tried to give me some sense of how huge those buildings were.

    I told Lisa about the dream, and I asked her to go out to the country where it would be safer, but she---gracious as everybody else had been gracious---told me that for the moment they would stay in Raleigh. The cameras switched briefly to the Pentagon, and they showed a tall column of black smoke over that American symbol of power and stability, and again, the reality of judgement from God, of reproach against us for trusting in ourselves hit me. Dread, but most of all sorrow, swept over me. I had never known how much I loved my country until that moment, when I saw her glory humiliated. But there was a touch of unreality in all of it, as though it were all a horrible movie.

    I don't remember leaving. The next thing I recall was getting home and turning on the television and for the first time getting the whole, horrible story in order and realizing that---as Lisa had said----those buildings had still been occupied, and thousands were dead. I got on my knees and then onto my face and prayed again. In the first hours of the attacks, there were frantic orders for all planes to land, and news reports abounded of planes not yet accounted for. Most people expected more attacks. The rumor of a plane that had gone down in a field in Pennsylvania was not yet verified.

    I asked God what He wanted me to do. I did not doubt then, nor have I ever doubted since then, that the troubling dream I'd had on the night of August 28th was about this horrible day. And based on the one precognitive dream I'd had before, I assumed that God had something He wanted me to do. But I didn't know what it was. I also knew then that up until that moment I had never truly cared about other people, not in the way that Christ can give us. It was a terrible moment, and there is an irony that in the hours when God sent such terrible judgement, He showed me how gracious He is, and how loathe to kill and strike down. In this terrible moment, Christians had not prepared themselves to love and to give because of our hard heartedness, and I was also guilty. So I repented, but the great weight of being completely unable to live the life of sacrifice to Christ made me almost despair. And again, the irony was that in my despair of myself, I saw that things were so bad that every small step towards Christ would be a great progress. And the most effective thing, I realized, was not to worry about how limited I am, but to keep asking God what He wanted me to do and to keep asking Him to enable me to do it. The Christian life is lived by faith; I also learned that to a new degree that day. We can never be righteous, but Christ has given Himself to His people to live and work through them and be their righteousness. Now I understood afresh how much I needed the life of Christ living through me. And I also understood that living and working through us is exactly what Christ does.
    Part One

    Part Two

    Part Three

    Part Four

    Part Five

    Part Six