Note: This was posted at The Rabbit Room recently. So, you may have seen it there. Do not read it twice. It’s like seeing yourself in time-travel. –sam

Last night I wrote a fable. It’s fabulous. And by that I mean it’s a fable.

With me?

Words really mean things. I want to be some one whose appreciation of this fact fuels more intentional investigation on word origins.

I only have one book on my shelf that I can think of right now about word origins in English. That book is pretty amazing (now I’m thinking of what amazing history the word “amazing” might have), but I ought to have more. I almost have aught.

I remember hearing Ken Myers talking to some fellow about how he was grading a student paper where it was said that a boat had “arrived half-way across the ocean.” The fellow was objecting to this use because the word “arrive” has in it the notion of coming ashore. So one cannot arrive half-way. It means to get there. Specifically to “come to shore.”

So, at Hutchmoot (the Rabbit Room conference) this idea of the power and origin in the original power of words arrived on the sandy beach of my mind. Courtesy of Walter Wangerin, Jr.

Walt (I call him Walt, because I was close enough to yank his pony tail –but I didn’t, amazingly) was amazing. <—– I haven’t looked that up yet.

I felt a thousand things as he spoke, which I feel incapable of putting into adequate words. I feel like a clever monkey trying to explain to Beethoven (who is deaf and dead) the joys of flinging poo. I felt validated, inspired, full, hopeful, peaceful, joyful and the list goes on and on like a long, long list.

But here is one thing. Walt knows words.

He inhabits language like the oldest local. He speaks as one with authority, as if in his naming the thing may finally –again– be itself. It was not that words were used by him, or that he was commanding with them. I can aspire to that. It was more.

He cooperated with words. Co-operated. He and the words were on the same side. He has arrived on their side after a long, literate life’s journey.

His relation of the history of schap (forever on the chalkboard of my mind) was a significant life event for me. Because, in so many words, he told me who I am.

I am a schap. A shaper. This is how he talked about storytellers.

And words are the tools of my trade. I will use them, care for them, add more to my bag and hope that one day I will do more than use them. I will inhabit them. Know them like an intimate friend. Partner with them. Conjure up with them a vision for those without eyes to see. And tell stories.

Like Walt.

Leg Crossers –Jason and Sam

I got to meet fellow Rabbit Room writer Jason Gray in Nashville a few weeks ago, as well as hear him perform some songs. Then this past weekend got to hear him again here in southern West Virginia (thanks Matt and Mark). Gina and I (and the kids) got to spend some extended time with him and it was really special. I encourage you to check out his music. It’s good, ya’ll.

Fake Scholarship –Jason and Gina, fakers

His emphasis on weakness, brokenness and the power and completeness of God in our weakness is beautiful. His song from several years ago, Blessed Be, has been a welcome reminder of something I have needed to hear lately.

I am going through some health issues now, again (I have a medical test today, in fact, and would appreciate prayer). This idea of being perfected in weakness, of being blessed in brokenness (which is so evident in Matthew, and all of Scripture) has been a comfort to me. Jason’s music has added to the chorus of truth I need to hear now and all the time.

The Gospel is for the broken, the needy, the ones who know they need it. Not for the morally superior. Again, consider this amazing passage in Luke 18. I need that!

So, after the jump here I put Jason’s song, Blessed Be, up for you to hear. I didn’t ask him, so mum’s the word. It’s not the best audio (or video), so I put up the words. But he tells the same story on Acoustic Storytime, which is a great record.
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Or, it’s more about connection than it is about self-expression. And, of course, it depends on what we’re after. If we want people (who are not our mothers) to read us, then we need connection way more than self-expression.

I’ve never read Yancey, but I like this video (below). Especially at about the 23:20 point where he expresses how difficult writing is. As Pete Peterson said on the Story panel at Hutchmoot: “Many people say, ‘I write because I can’t not write.’ I don’t get that. I can easily not write. That’s the easiest thing in the world to not do.”

Well, he said something like that and he took the words right out of my mouth, so I’m putting them back in just as I like.

It’s easy not to write. It’s painful. On the self-same panel, Jonathan Rogers explained that when it’s easy it’s not usually worthwhile.

“I’ve written books that didn’t hurt, and to tell you the truth, they’re not all that good.” Jonathan Rogers

Well, this might have been easy to write.

OK kids, back to Yancey.

At one point he advises writers, “Don’t do it alone,” and goes on to say that there are many creative people, but:

“…they’re all into self-expression…but you don’t make a living in self expression, you make a living by connecting with people who want to pay money…to say ‘this is worth my time.’”

Good point, Phillip Yancey. Good point.

Also, you have an amazing ‘fro.

I have shared this vidya content before, but thought it might be good to do again. I thought those thoughts with the thoughts in my mind.

Writers are a pretty pathetic bunch. Especially, perhaps, those of us who want to have a book published, but haven’t yet. We have these odd tensions that are unresolved, like so many guitar strings tuned to the point of snapping. I don’t know if this ever changes, but one thing we writers do is try to convince ourselves that it’s everyone’s fault but our own when we fail. The excuses erupt.

It’s the state of publishing, the “ecomony,” lazy agents, the stupidity of book-buyers (Twilight, Left Behind, choose your hated success story), etc. –whatever makes us feel like it’s not us. It couldn’t possibly be that I stink.

Sit near struggling writers and you will smell the distinct odor of burned martyr. The unvalidated genius at the stake. “It was too good for them!” he cries against the flames.

Of course, sometimes it’s true. I think I know of some cases, myself. (I mean, people really do buy teen-angst, vampire books like crazy.)

I don’t have much to say about this pathetic streak in us, just wanted to let you know that it’s normal if you know some one struggling with P.W.S. (Pathetic Writer Syndrome). So, hug your writer friends and tell them, “There, there…poor baby,” in a gentle way.

As for us, the writers? At best it’s an annoying thing we need to get over. At worst it reveals an idol in our lives that we need to let go of/destroy. Because rejection by a publisher (or agent) is not our personal hell and publication/success is not our personal savior. If we are thinking of this situation in a religious, all-consuming way…maybe it’s a worship issue. We are made to be worshipers. Ourselves, ensconced on a throne built of literary success, makes for a lousy idol.

Here’s a cartoon from Rachel Gardner’s blog. It’s a self-deluded writer’s perspective on things.

Though some of this “Bewail the state of things!” is grounded in truth (and seems to be, perhaps, increasingly true), I still think that if our work is good enough it can and will be published (perhaps by a small press –that option is increasingly attractive in many ways). But things do have to line up for us and we have to work really hard. And that’s not even factoring in the sovereign hand of the God who does things for his own glory and our good, including sometimes allowing (or even causing) us to fail.

Like most things in life, this isn’t easy. Whoever said it was easy is lying, or selling something.

At least that’s what it looks like from here. But what do I know? I’m not a success story.

Yet. But it’s legitimately not my fault. It’s, um….it’s…

N.D. Wilson answers this and more in this interview…Listen now.

I found Wilson’s remarks to be very inspiring and very helpful for:

1. Parents looking for discernment about what kids read.

2. Creative people who love the Bible (authors, musicians, etc.).

3. People who want to understand if we should only receive “Christian” media (books, music, films, etc.) and need wisdom on that front.

4. Other weirdos.

It’s also very helpful on the subject of authority and magic.

Check it out. It is really worth a listen.

I mean, look at this guy.

Find N.D. Wilson here. Buy his books. High-five his raised right hand.

Note: Previously posted at the Rabbit Room.

As a reader of books who also writes, I often feel a distinct, conflicting emotion when I read great books written by great writers. There is the delight, of course. Here is a person made by God doing something beautiful.

Then there is the (often very slight) tinge of despair as I recognize I could never do this. This is less pointed when the genre and style are out of my own vein of writing (such as Patrick O’Brian’s books, which are, for me, an unmixed joy I hardly experience in any other fiction).

I have written before on, and firmly believe in, the well-worn wisdom that it’s no use in copying others, or feeling bad about how you compare. It’s best to find your own voice and write what only you can.

But still that feeling comes. “Am I kidding myself? I can’t write like this. This is art. This is compelling.”

I guess part of it is simple envy, ordinary coveting. This of course, like all sin, must be rejected.

I want, rather, to be the kind of man who says in his heart, like Robin Hood to Little John in the Errol Flynn film, “I love a man who can better me.”

This runs quite counter to the self-important manure which passes for a philosophy of life for many in our envy-based culture.

May it not be so in us.

I love Luke’s ”orderly account” of what has been accomplished by Yahweh in the first advent of Christ.

We remember the true tale of how the angel Gabriel came to two people (in Luke’s account), one was a priest and the other a virgin.

The priest’s wife, Elizabeth, and Mary both get a lot of time in the early part of Luke.

Both are women whose station in life is in relationship to their husbands (or, in Mary’s case, her betrothed). One woman’s husband has a “secular” career, the other a religious one.  Both have a humble calling, a vocation for the lowly of spirit.

Elizabeth might have had some status as the wife of a priest, but she describes herself as having a reproach upon her from her people (because she was barren).

Mary would have likely had almost no status at all on her own.

What is the value of such people in the world’s economy (especially today)? They are nobodies.

Both women are blessed by God in a miraculous way by miraculous pregnancies and births. Both women became catalysts for the greatest event in the history of mankind.

It was not to, or through, Herod the Great that such things were accomplished. It was in spite of him. He was a mighty, important, powerful man who ruled the land. He was a man of intelligence, strength, and creativity. He was, perhaps, a genius. Let’s contrast this great man of his time with two Jewish women.

Elizabeth and Mary were humble-hearted believers.

What does Elizabeth say of Mary in vs. 45? How does Mary respond to truth that is good beyond measure?

“Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.”

What profound humility. What submission. What simple, astonishing beauty.

Do not believe the horrendous, and popular, lie that “History Doesn’t Remember Obedient Women.”

“From now on all generations will call me blessed,” sings humble Mary (in a Gospel-drenched, deeply theological, and lovely song).

She believes.

Mary hears…and believes.

What is our calling? It is the same as Mary’s in that way. We must hear, and having heard: believe.

Hear and believe.

This requires a humble heart, because it is the abandonment of whatever status we have held on to as a coin to buy God’s favor.

It is a filing for bankruptcy.

It is a kneeling surrender of our sword and our rank.

It is, as a wise man said, a “glorious defeat.”

In Christ’s advent we celebrate the happy end of our pretended reign.

There is no room for Herod the Great -clinging to his murderous self-interest.

Let us look instead to believing Mary, and Elizabeth –two beautiful, humble children of God– and let us imitate their faith.

Hear –and believe.

In honor of the holy days ahead and seeing as no one in their right mind is reading blogs and such (even ones as brief as this one) I have decided to shut ‘er down for a week or so after tomorrow’s post.

My parting thoughts (except for tomorrow’s post) are thus.

Please don’t get too uptight about people saying “Happy Holidays,” instead of “Merry Christmas” –let’s just do our celebrating on purpose, with an awareness that this celebration centers on the most profound act of humility in history.

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

-from John 1

If you have reason to celebrate that goes beyond sentimentality then be glad. And be merciful.

“…And his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and exalted those of humble estate…”

-from Luke 1 (from Mary’s Song)

Let’s keep the Gospel in Christmas.

May Yahweh be merciful to each of you. Have a happy Christmas.

Tomorrow’s post will have to do it for a “thought for Christmas” from me this year. Peace to you.

And speaking of humility, here’s a picture of me in the snow. Yippee. Fun times with the little ones.

Well, it didn’t take long for my post yesterday to “Tread” on toes.

My main object wasn’t merely to single out modern, so-called “progressives” for particular scorn. It was to make a point about the idea of progress and how it’s a morally ambiguous term. But I will say that there are evils worse than the slavery Lewis depicts in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and aggressive promotion of one such evil is a core, modern “progressive” concern. I think that illustrates the point, but maybe I shouldn’t have used “scare quotes.” Boo.

But lest we leave off offending everyone, I offer a good quotation from Lewis to address an idolatry typical of “conservatives.” But it goes for all of us.

“He who surrenders himself without reservation to the temporal claims of a nation, or a party, or a class is rendering to Caesar that which, of all things, most emphatically belongs to God: himself.”

C.S. Lewis

This beautiful little gem helps me remember whose team I’m on, and who I belong to –deeply flawed though I am. While we must, in every age, be concerned with, and work to end, the great moral ills of our times, we must not pretend that Moralism is the answer for mankind.

Moralism, of the “family-values” variety, or the “progress and equality” kind, cannot get us anywhere with God.

What we all need is Good News –the actual Gospel. We need to hear and believe that Jesus is interested in rescuing really bad people (even people with “backward,” or “fringe” beliefs) from their guilt and gladless selfishness in sin. And that we can’t do enough good to make it all right. We all need mercy, and we can get it from God, who is not stingy with the stuff.

After we are received by him on Jesus’ merit, he sets to work righting the ship (sanctification), and I guess we’ll keep fighting about what that must look like. But for my money liberal-progressives and conservatives both have areas where, if we cling to these ideologies as if they are core principles, we will miss a lot and lead others to do the same.

I’m know I have been guilty of blundering through on instinct while carrying too much water for these temporal causes and I am always trying to find the right balance on that front. Forgive me where I am wrong on that score, I beg. And keep pointing me back to Jesus, and his happy kingdom where no one votes.

We’re listening to this fine book and this fine series once again right now (first time for my kids), and I’m struck again at how Lewis views so-called “progress.” Delightful. This notion is throughout the book, and the series, and indeed in much of Lewis. But here is one exchange that demonstrates it quite nicely. Isn’t it alarming what deeply evil things are often veiled in a black fog of “progress?”

“Tender as my years may be,” said Caspian, “I believe I understand the slave trade from within quite as well as your Sufficiency. And I do not see that it brings into the islands meat or bread or beer or wine or timber or cabbages or books or instruments of music or horses or armour or anything else worth having. But whether it does or not, it must be stopped.”

“But that would be putting the clock back,” gasped the Governor. “Have you no idea of progress, of development?”

“I have seen them both in an egg,” said Caspian. “We call it Going bad in Narnia. This trade must stop.”

C.S. Lewis, from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

(By the way, Caspian X = King Caspian the 10th.)