Y o u r W r i t e r s G r o u p

The Voice of the Christian Writer

Have you ever wondered about the impact you're having?

I am tonight and mainly it's because I'm not able to share in someone's pain. My grandfather is dying and I want to be there, for him, my grandma, and my mom. But he’s too ashamed. So he’s distant. He wouldn’t admit it but he doesn’t believe death is natural. If he was willing to let me in, I don’t know that I could help him anyway, but I do know this desire to share in others’ pain is part of the reason I write.

We’ve all learned to show, don’t tell. But I don’t want to even “show” until I listen. I want to become aware of the enormous pain in the people around me, to hear it. And that means experiencing it myself.

I’m afraid, though, because I know what it means. I’ve experienced some things my grandpa hasn’t: namely, the unknowable depth of love that covers these unbearable sufferings. But he wouldn’t believe me. So I think to tell him in story. Can a story give him a sense of the unfathomable love surrounding us, the safety and security of that? At least the little bit I've experienced, I could try to convince him. I may not know his pain, but God does. Would a story be powerful enough, have resonance and speak of his reality? Is my measure of awareness big enough?

How I live would show through. Am I practiced enough to connect with the fact of his life slipping away as well as the fact of comfort? Am I too afraid? Is it too much for me? I look at Jesus who listened and saw it, saw the suffering and got closer to it. Focused on those he could help, those around him, he helped them and they helped others. His stamina and capacity to handle pain surely grew over time, just as my small handful of understanding will eventually reveal more of this universe packed with metaphor. I want to trust that God coming through the power of story will make up for my lack. I want to trust in the nuclear, viral power of story to break through. But can I?

I’ve written of the closer things, what I know. That’s where I've believed I could do the most good. What I’ve lived is what I have. I’ve shared about what was in front of me, let it speak of whatever universal truths it could, of this situation we’re all in. I know something of what I’m destined for and I’ve striven to reveal the bigger vision from my tiny sphere. But am I ready for this? Are we ever ready to really put our belief in the power of story to the test?

Life is metaphor upon metaphor. Earth, heaven, and hell presented in endlessly repeating relationships, mirroring each other and astonishing us over and over in endless transformations. I live in those connections. I explore them. My life is others’, my pain, their pain. I’ve seen the power of story create relatives of everyone, seen it carry God’s truth, teaching through representing, entertaining and awakening, showing me them and them me as we watch each other across time. The more layers, the more insights, the more life is reflected. It's been my education to learn of myself and the world. If God designed story to teach me of his imbuing presence and who I am in him, can I pass that on now? If all of this has been my chance to experience God's story given for me (Col 1:15—Jesus makes the invisible God visible, like a good metaphor), am I not to give my story to him?

Learning to follow Christ is like learning to write well.

A good metaphor describes a thing by telling you about something else.

All this is by design. Small things revealing the whole. The power of God, through us, in a simple story.

Adventure of Writing

"It's important to remember we're all explorers--as humans we are risk-takers, whizzing down a hill on a bike. But we get settled in a pattern. There is so much more inside us."
--Benedict Allen, British explorer, “Disconnecting Is Key to Exploring,” Brigid Delaney, CNN.com

We age and something gets in the way of the adventure. Maybe an idol we seek. Something more important. 

Other opinions get in. How easily we forget. Finally, exploring becomes a waste of time. Unproductive. 

Very few have the courage and determination to go back into the wild, like Allen, or Chris McCandless, the wandering adventurer of Jon Krakauer’s bio. But there’s something ineluctable about it for writers, this need to disconnect from the machinations of influence-seeking. Like McCandless and Allen and countless others before them (Cobain, anyone?).

We all seek to escape.

And yet, we also desire to be of influence, to be connectors. The world esteems and rewards natural connectors, conveying power and respect for their contagious personalities. Their messages compel us because they’re explorers too, charging blindly into the wilderness that exists between people, inviting us to come along. They have something to share about this exploration of connecting.

I’ve known influential connectors and the surprising truth is that most have tapped the skill of disconnecting and reconnecting with the outside world. For many writers, I believe this is a hidden key. Mastering this art requires jumping into your particular adventure by investing your personality, experiences, and abilities anonymously before reconnecting.

To connect, they’ve first disconnected from the world. And to disconnect, they’ve connected with themselves and the God-given tools for the adventure. The journey is universal, but the results are always unique. No one is an automaton, but as free agents in a glorious open experiment, we follow the prime exemplar, denying ourselves, our selfish concerns, and seeking a better world where “mattering” no longer matters.

We each have a life to live, but it will only be great if we live it.

We want to leave behind more than landmarks. We hope to pass on an ability to see. From your own dangerous adventure, you will teach people how to see their world, others, themselves, and God, how to see the deeper reality, awakening both the desire to search it out, and the sight with which to understand. Flannery O’Connor said that a novelist uses the skills of a prophet, being able to see the “near things with their extensions of meaning,” and thus, to see “far things close up.”

As a writer, you carry that—you make the connections between the visible “near things” and the reality they represent. You’re the very definition of a connector. If that is in you, there’s no need to question it or ask why. Invest in that desire. Show that however it may appear, there’s little distance between things in this world. Strive to show that the greatest chasms of contrast also create the most compelling complements.

It's either an esoteric philosophy, or an intriguing invitation, depending on the context you create in which to explore it. The extent to which you can sense that truth is directly linked to how much you’ve disconnected from the outside world to connect to your inner adventurer.

There’s a deep significance in how you spend your waking moments. What are you pursuing in the quiet times? It will feel foolish sitting behind a computer and hacking away at the hidden form behind the screen. But disconnecting from the distancing influences, you’ll sense this broader perspective and discover deeper truths tied in webs of meaning you never before imagined.

This is the adventure, the brave exploration of an immortal soul, disconnecting to embark on a humbling, overwhelming journey most will never even begin. But this is why you're needed, to connect it up for them, even as you work and strive yourself to continue, straining to fathom the infinite mysteries.

It's getting late

Here's the thing: It's getting late.

When a person starts thinking of how long he has left, he starts asking himself a lot of questions. Naturally, one thinks there are some things one might like to do a little differently. What exactly is the purpose of some of this extraneous knowledge we carry around? Do I really need to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? And if so, what other information is being crowded out by including that little fact? The neurons are limited. Sometimes I worry I'm nearing capacity.

Or maybe I've already surpassed capacity and now I'm in the phase of overwriting, replacing the once essential information I once carried, for new--and one hopes, better--things. Some experiences will be lost forever as I gain memories of new ones. It's like all those other books I've forgotten I have to read because of all the new ones crowding them out.

There's no escaping this process while you're living. Everything is information and everything is an experience. It's the quality of these things that matters. So when you're evaluating the stuff of your life, I think a good question to ask is, "Of what value is this stuff I carry?"

You can't take it with you, you know. Oh, you've heard?

But you can leave a lot behind. And I guess just now that thought is making me wonder what I'll want later generations to have as mementoes. You know. Statues crumble. Paintings fade. Books gather dust. Ah...but the Internet is forever.

I'm only partly kidding. Consider it for a moment. Your grandchildren could be reading your old blog someday. All our gathering information and experiences assumes there's something greater, more significant, valuable, enjoyable, worthwhile to do with it all. For writers, writing makes the experiences worth the effort. For artists, art. For musicians, music. But even for those who simply live to feel good, there's some hope of preserving the life they've lived. And I suppose if we all wrote like Shakespeare we might have that option open to us, but I'm willing to bet that very little will be treasured (or able to be trasured after it's aged) from the physical world. Maybe we're a ways away from the hyperbaric chambers and head plugs (or maybe we're not), but we all want to escape the "curse" of being human and no one wants to have to die to do it. This little bit of information sells a lot of books, movies, drugs, houses, food, cars, sex, and webspace. You might even say it's the idea that makes the world go 'round.

None of us will live to see the end of this date with destiny, but you'd better believe that the information and experiences you gather matter. So the last questions I've been asking myself recently are, how late is it for me? And would I be doing something else if I knew?

Endless Summer

Remember that movie? Well, I'm back after 10 days' vacation, and I'm ready for another 10. Why are summers the busiest season in bookdom? It's enough to make me want to teach just to have summers off.

Time for sleep, little Charlotte...

Babies crying has been my life for going on 5 years now and I still haven't developed that trick of ignoring the sound. Someone said you get used to it, but I think you either have that ability or you don't. With the first kid, it never lasted long and she didn't need to cry long. But everyone knows the second is proof that you should have stopped on the first. No. I love second-borns. I even married one.

Summers are full of vacations and fun and sun and growing stuff--like flowers, and kids, and dreams. And all of that is a bit crazy-making. Every time Sheri and I go on vacation we start to thinking about life and hopes and dreams. And it gets a little busier-feeling. I know a lot of people who do that. Rather than a perfect convergence of idealism and realism, for many of us creatively-types it can be a perfect train wreck, like at a wedding when you're supposed to be having fun and all you can do is try to avoid the wrong people and find a chance to greet the right people. And not miss the cake in the process. But invariably, you end up at some table near the back shielding your eyes from the visual assault of bearded Aunt Ginny in a never-ending electric slide with Cousin Ira from Tuttsville who thinks Listerine is something you use to get leeches off your best bloodhound. (Paul, your wedding was really so much better than most. Really.)

Sorry. Where was I? I suppose we really just wish summers were longer to fit everything in. Sure, in some places they are longer. But what we really want is unlimited time for everything before we shrivel up and forget everything that used to feel so damned important as though there were so many things worth sacrificing for. And I suppose we could talk about something like there's plenty of time for the things you really want to do and the prioritizing process is refining both emotionally and mentally. But we don't want to. We want more Summer.

We've all got endless books to read, endless proposals to write, endless friends to see, and endless kids to create endless memories with (once they finally get some sleep).  Fact is, we don't have enough time for everything we want to do and all of this stuff is a "priority," so there's no solution other than to defer some of the non-vital things until later. And maybe that's for the best, but it's scary to think of the creativity getting shoved aside. 

Does it matter when you defer the dream to write? Of course it does. The dream will change because you change. Ideally, the more you age, the better the dream becomes, but that's ideally. Look at Salinger (okay, he wouldn't have been published today, but still). There's what you want to do and what you REALLY want to do, and making time for it by prioritizing isn't always the issue. Sometimes it's actually impossible to write. Oh, you could get published easy enough (that's the consolation, isn't it?), but to actually write what you've been waiting so long to write, regardless of publishing or priorities or inconvenient realities? Impossible.

Or maybe it just feels impossible given the current realities. Maybe Summer can be endless if you change the view, look past the boundaries and see the elements for what they are rather than the sum of an irreducible "completeness." Sun, sky, some clouds, water, flowers. The pieces still work individually. Ideal convergence isn't the point anyway: it's appreciating what you have that counts. Change the view and you see it, right?

So maybe we can put a happy spin on it. That's what Summer does to you. Get out there and enjoy it. Prioritize and adjust, but don't give up. Just never give up. You don't want to miss the bigger point.

 

Developing a Taste for Meat

“Christians are actually, to me, anyway, as a Jew, much more interesting in America. And weirdly, much more misunderstood. Evangelical Christians are the most incompetently portrayed group in America, in TV, in fiction, in the news. When Christians say that the media gets them wrong, Christians are absolutely right. Christian life in this country is really horribly documented, and way more interesting than is done. Generally, in the media, very religious Christians are portrayed as hardheaded doctrinaire knuckleheads. But in fact, from my experience, the most religious Christians I know tend to be incredibly thoughtful, complicated, generous to a fault, very principled and not knuckleheads. Actually, they’re sort of weirdly the opposite of the stereotype, and that includes people from the hardcore fundamentalist faiths.”
--Ira Glass (Thanks to Mollie at Get Religion)

By way of counterpoint, according to Barna’s survey data, there are precious few of these “most religious Christians” in America. I don’t think I’m one of them. And there’s little chance of surviving as a Christian writer, publisher, or acquisitions editor catering only to this small group. And yet, there’s little chance of preserving your moral standards if you’re catering to the majority of Christian book-buyers in America. Doing so will almost certainly require compromise. For example:

1.    As Barna points out, most American Christians are hypocrites. We want to follow Jesus, but we’d rather watch other people doing it.
2.    We’re shallow. “Just give me Jesus” isn’t a simple slogan, it’s a cop out. Deep theology and paradoxical spiritual truths are too hard. Keep it simple and make us feel better.
3.    We’re dualistic. We want to live simply, but be complicated. We want to get uncluttered, but we can’t accept the limitation of giving up stuff.
4.    We’re blind. Of course, we can’t really admit any of this because were too smart for that. But by closing our eyes to avoid the uncomfortable realities, we face consequences.

We know a large portion of our audience buys books to feel better about all this, for the psychological freedoms they offer. Lucrative Christian books (indeed, entire publishing programs) are built on these 4 little navel-gazing secrets, using them to apply band-aids: a little encouragement, a little spiritual salve, an easy out. They help us feel for a while that all is within our reach if we buy an inspirational book.

But as publishing professionals, do we have to accept this catering to the masses? Can we resist this? Must we give people easy outs? I don’t mean we give up easy reads, but can we sneak in some real meat with the stuff? Maybe we can trick them into developing a taste for meat by making it cheaper, faster, fresher, newer, easier, and making them laugh and cry at how good this “fast food” tastes.

I guess I have to believe this IS possible, that the first all-important step is looking at how you yourself have compromised, realize you’ve been had, and decide to stop furthering the enemy’s aims. Then, praise God for his grace and repent on your knees. If you've been in 1, 2, 3, or 4, you don't have to stay there. And if you're just starting out, commit to the higher purpose of Christian “inspirational” books and band with others to fight for balance with God-honoring messages that reach our respective corners of the market.

And together, maybe we will manage to keep Ira's good impression.

If this is you, then it's time to get it going.

No Different

I've been thinking. People are a lot alike. Maybe more alike than we are different.

Most of us like eating chocolate ice cream right out of the container, right? But the similarities go deeper. When you were little, did you draw those little pictures of people with big head-bodies and long stick limbs? How did I know, huh? Do you ever think you'd like to be a superhero so you could save people's kids and find your lost keys and stuff?

Me too. Just think of the implications.

We write stories about all this stuff and other people wonder how we knew all about them. We even know some dark, nasty things about them too. If we're honest.

I wonder why we all have so much in common. And we’re even alike in this, wondering.

Everyone needs faith to survive. And yet we’ve all read books that don’t seem to require much. We all want to believe it’s God’s will that no one should die without him. And yet we all struggle to understand how we are to be a poem of his to others.

We’ve all been told, at some point or another to sit down, stop rocking the boat. We’ve all been told to stop being so negative. We’ve all thought about how much easier it would be to just sit down and be quiet.

“Many people saw the miraculous signs he was doing and believed in his name. But Jesus would not entrust himself to them, for he knew all men. He did not need man's testimony about man, for he knew what was in a man.”

Maybe we are all alike because we’re made from the same stuff, by the same artist, for the same purpose. And maybe we all struggle with the same darkness inside, the same fears about facing it and about seeing it reflected in others.

But if this is true, then those in the dark right now are just like you and me. Their hopes and fears, their loves and losses. They're the same. And what we think separates us--our faith--is the same faith that keeps them going every day. So maybe they don’t know yet where it comes from, how to share it, what it’s really for. Maybe we think we "found" faith, when really we only found its purpose. The only real difference between then and now, between there and here, is that single connection they're waiting to make.

We think we're so different from each other. But we need to look around, see what's really going on. He’s here, but he's also there, in the most unlikely places. And through you, maybe more will finally notice that there’s no place too dark to be redeemed.

Do you believe there is no place in human existence God can’t redeem?

As a writer, are you his ambassador?

Think of the implications.

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

Michael Cader of Publisher's Marketplace reports in the Publishers' Lunch daily newsletter (he has a great little “free advice” page on getting published, applicable to larger Christian houses as well), "On Blogging Policies and Blogging Casualties"--

Editor Jason Pinter's recent abrupt dismissal from Crown (imprint of Random) was attributed to a post on his blog (now removed) comparing opening week sales for Chris Bohjalian's THE DOUBLE BIND (Crown), and Ishmael Beah's A LONG WAY GONE (Farrar, Straus, & Giroux). Pinter speculated on the post whether Starbucks was demonstrating more power in the marketplace than Barnes & Noble (which made Bohjalian their second chainwide recommendation).

Crown is not commenting, and Pinter simply says, "I enjoyed my brief tenure at Crown and was fortunate enough to work with some wonderfully talented authors and publishing professionals. I have nothing but respect for the group and the books they publish."

I’ve been asked about WaterBrook’s and Random House’s policies for this blog many times. While it may seem I flaunt my freedom of expression, it’s a concern I share. Random House’s stated policy on employee blogs is the expectation that “every employee apply the same standards of personal and professional responsibility and decorum to your dealings on blogs as you would to any other aspect of your business activities…and to the extent they mention Random House or workplace issues or matters relevant to publishing, you should make it clear that opinions stated are not necessarily those expressed or endorsed by Random House. Please think about the potential consequences of the content of your blog and blog postings. Blogs exist on the Internet – a public space – so we hope you will be as respectful to the company, your colleagues, our customers, our partners and affiliates, and others (including our competitors) as the company itself endeavors to be."

Nelson's blog policy is a bit more helpful: "Be nice. Avoid attacking other individuals or companies. This includes fellow employees, authors, customers, vendors, competitors, or shareholders. You are welcome to disagree with the company's leaders, provided your tone is respectful. If in doubt, we suggest that you 'sleep on it' and then submit your entry to the Blogging Oversight Committee before posting it on your blog."

I’ve aways wondered what else the members of the Blogging Oversight Committee do to occupy themselves during daylight hours. Sounds like a fun job. Though, knowing they take pains to downplay images of tight corporate control, you’d think they could come up with a better choice of acronym than “BLOC.”

Anyway, in striking that balance between full disclosure and professional restraint, most of you know I prefer the former. I don’t often talk in specifics. Generalizing and alluding to trends is it. It’s tough, of course, and while I don’t mind focusing on bigger overarching issues, I feel responsible to state the truth about the challenges of ministering through the business of Christian publishing. In as much as I can, I share my opinions in hopes of conveying that Christian publishing is not so different from any other business, the same spiritual dangers lurking, same demands of loyalty and same real pitfalls. No matter what the publishing gods will face on judgment day, at the end of the work day, it’s about growing the business.

Such dedication may improve the innovation, quality, and value of the business, but not always the innovation, quality, and value of the product. That’s natural and endemic across any industry. Like public blogs, mass production does carry certain limitations.

So what are you willing to compromise? And what’s nonnegotiable at any price? There may not be a direct correlation between moral compromise and business success, but even in Christian publishing, you’ve got to know where your true loyalties lie. One sort of compromise may make you lose a relationship with a publisher. The other might cost you much more dearly.

Without Love...

Welcome back to the discussion.

We’ve been dissecting this idea of “books for God.” As publishing professionals and hopefuls, we need to know what makes our books Christian. What makes them “godly?” Is it worth discussing how “books for God” might be different from “Christian books” or books for Christians?

Your Writers Group has an intentionally broad focus to encourage ideas for discussion, discovery, and community built around God’s role in our books. And since I’m the moderator here, my idea is to unite us in this cause and keep focused on this most important goal. Often, I have my own troubles doing that, so the rules are obviously fairly lax.

And we all have biases. We try to subvert those for the greater purpose, but sometimes, we forget to remember that. I forget to remember that. In my brain. Where the thinking doesn’t always happen. The problem is that this seemingly-relaxed group seems like a crowded, sweaty dressing room at times. You try on ideas and take opinions on how they fit. Some of the threads don’t always groove...

“Hey, that blouse is crap on you, Nancy-boy!”

Dissent is to be expected, I think. Really, the whirled-wide web is more like a busy bus station. And so much is out of context, it's often more like crashing some high school reunion to sing some Van Morrison favorites with the band. I’m trying to use the technology accordingly, to be smart. There’s a reason we don’t take our shirts off in front of the class, right Brenda?

But Christians, we represent God. And we don’t do the repping very well. Luckily, there are a lot of us, but we need to all be following our own unique calling, being true to how we hear it. Diverse. There are many representations. Many we need to see. May never see otherwise.

Yesterday, I was leaving for work and my 3-year-old daughter runs to the garage door to tell me goodbye. I’d already given her a kiss and hug, but you know 3-year-old girls. I gave her the kiss-the-hand-and-blow-it thing as I was pulling out. She did it back and then raises her arms in a mock hug, tilting her head, really playing it up. And it hits me funny how sincere she is about it. I never showed her that; she just added it herself. Thought she’d like a distance hug to go with the kisses. And it looks like a really good hug and I suddenly don’t want to go to work even more than before.

I get things wrong sometimes. I’ve argued here that God’s not amused by our amusing ourselves and ignoring our world. Maybe I argue too forcefully, too sweepingly, at times. I don’t think we can escape reality—either in real life or in books—because it mocks grace, ignoring the truth of what Jesus came to save us from. But that doesn’t mean we need all novels to be philosophical, metaphorical, literary. What I’d like to see is more people striving to make more God-focused reading and writing choices. That’s how we’ll balance the limitations of our industry. God’s way.

To better represent God, we need more invention and less convention. We need more honesty, and maybe an understanding that some feelings will get hurt. And we need to work at delivering honesty in love, so they won’t stay hurt.

We also need to be aware of how our discussion sounds, much like derision, to the experienced authors, the working professionals who are out there exposed. We need to seek the big open middle ground. I’m a firm believer that the first step in effecting change is realizing who you’re talking to. We need to be constantly growing in our understanding of the nuances of this subject of books for God. We were all called in different ways. And not all of us will represent God the same way. We need all kinds of writers who can reach all kinds of readers.

I send you a 3-year-old’s hug tonight. We need more hugs. Straight from her heart to yours. If we’re talking about the value of words, we need to value open dialogue and listening more than speaking. The smaller voices over the louder. The simpler, purer, less complicated values of the little people. We need their guidance from God. Without it, there’s nothing any of us can do.

Random Reality Check

Man, this thing on Sesame Street going all over the world is fascinating. Talk about a vision for excellence. I wish people would leave Phil Vischer alone for his "equivocation" on Veggie Tales.

Anyway, Billy Graham recently spoke with Christianity Today, making a particularly interesting comment:

"Evangelicals have not tried to capture the intellectual initiative as much as we should. We haven't challenged and developed the minds of our generation. Though there are many exceptions, generally we evangelicals have failed to present to the world great thinkers, theologians, artists, scientists, and so forth."

I knew he'd been reading the blog...

But really, evangelicals as artists? What's he talking about? Shouldn't we all be evangelists? I mean, art requires independence, solidarity of vision and all that stuff. And we all know books in our industry are a collaborative effort, definitely even more so than in the larger market. Christian books are not a single artist's vision; they require many. There's a rulebook to follow and everyone has some different rules to apply before release. And while some say we're following the letter of the law rather than the spirit of it, what can really be done? The truth may be that “the spirit of the Law transcends the letter of the Law, and that those who enforce it to the letter don’t understand the need for the care of men.” But applying that is just not practical when it comes to particular books coming down the pipe.

Evangelical artists? It's just not feasible, is it?

I mean, sure, no writers write in a vacuum. Writers are not fighters who do their thing in their corner and then come out when the bell rings and start swinging. The myth is perpetuated by ignorance, and the truth shows a different picture. There's a team of people crafting Christian works behind the scenes in order to fit the standard, the expectations. This is just a fact, and a necessary one.

And sure, there may be real watchdogs on every level who restrict the work in specific ways, many in unhealthy ways. And maybe we've even seen it ourselves and know the frustration of the writers and editors who work on the books and believe in their freedom and ability to influence minds. Maybe we all know authors who have encountered this, and still others who are offended by even the suggestion. But if the books are being censored because of some delicate, albeit well-meaning, folks, what's there to talk about? It's a business and business is business. You can't change it. The battles will be fought whether we talk about it or not, on high-quality and low-quality books alike. The restrictions will either cause writers to work harder or not; they'll either be more effective or less, either more balanced or less. And if some are paying slavish devotion to the letter of the law rather than spirit in order to get their metered truth through the narrow gate, so be it. What's it to us?

I mean we're crazy to think the restrictions on art are going to change. It will not change until the current audience relents. And in the current system, books are rewarded for not achieving balance. Books are awarded for selling out to the lowest common denominator. Some books are given superior status for their lesser messages. What can we possibly do to change it?

And then there's the issue of airing all this dirty stuff which makes it easy to cast us as extremists. Sure, the label is sticky: Calling someone an extremist may say more about the one using the term than about the subject, reducing communication and shutting down debate. In extremism, everything becomes either all black or all white. It’s much harder to accept shades of gray and admit uncertainty, a reason for others' points of view. Those arguing for acceptance of "grittier," "edgier," "truer" fiction have been cast as extremists--and many even do it to themselves.

All of this is true. I can't argue. I just have some thoughts about it all. Like this supposed extremism in calling for balance on the shelves. What's more extreme? Supporting a fuller acceptance of creation and grace, or opposing its influence? Who are the extremists? Those who can’t accept reality, difficult topics, challenging ideas on grown-up's bookshelves? Who's fringe? And no, I don't think "judge not, lest you be judged" is a warning to others. It's to us. Look in the mirror and let's make double sure we're not doubling the evil by judging our judges. But let's try to see things as they really are, however dimly.

No one should be trying to offend anyone. People may choose to be offended by the idea that God is diminished by this systematic erosion of reality that's allowed in our industry. That's their business. And they have a valid point too. Ugliness and evil are deceptive and dangerous. And while the removal of all ugliness and evil may shift, weaken, or reduce truth, it's certainly safer. A sanitized world still has lots of problems to redeem.

Separating from the world, disengaging, may not be a biblical instruction. But the children must be protected and we can't always be around to teach them discernment. And who knows who might see our books and not wind up more godly or mature if we didn't include redemption and solutions? But then again, maybe if they’re old enough to read it, they’re old enough to be taught discernment and the book itself should be allowed to lead in this work without extra interpretations. Or further, maybe we should allow for multiple interpretations. Maybe God intended us to. Maybe that's why faith is so important.

Can we allow stories to be used the way they were intended to be used, as Jesus used them, as messy and interpretive? Open-ended? Confusing? Unresolved? Might Jesus have intentionally led some Pharisees down the wrong path with his stories? What a scandal that would be. Imagine the opportunity to show them their supposed God redeeming even the worst of darkness. Do you think he backed down and softened it for them? Maybe. I don't know. But they were offended, and some may even have been "led to sin" because of it. But these are the scandalous purposes of art: To reveal the world as it is, unqualified. To evoke a change in the viewer. To shine light on darkness and call meaning from the void.

How long can you ignore the world before you start seeing it differently? How many years have people been asking these questions and found no answers? Where will answers come from? These are difficult questions. And yes, artists have high purposes, but they're accountable and they need to realize it. Publishers are not on their side. Editors are required to be double-minded about all this. But we all decide how we will use our time and talents. I don't have answers, but I know--I believe through faith--that asking the questions is right.

Clarifying the issue: quality in CBA

Dangerous business, this question of art in Christian books, isn't it?

I'm a bit random tonight after reading many of these comments, so stick with me here. Sheri's reading Pat the Bunny to Charlotte while I write this. I'm struck by the obvious value of the book to our 7-month-old. To her, this is a "quality" book. And from her perspective, in this context, I can see that it is--a "children's classic," in fact. It's even stretching her, which makes it easier for me to value personally. She isn't switching her brain off to engage with it. And although she'd probably think it was even higher quality if it was good to chew, I'm not going to give in and let her.

So what if people want to check out, use drugs, drop out, drink battery acid? Shouldn't we let them? Should we make up vats of it in our basements and sell it? I mean, it's obvious that's what people want.

I'm not implying Left Behind is battery acid. I merely want us to consider this.

How do we define quality? Maybe a better question is, do we define quality? We may judge according to different standards, different ideas of what constitutes a book's value. But there must be an absolute standard in each of those areas. So what is our standard? Other books? Other markets? Our enjoyment?

This is hard. Art is hard to define.

Does every book have to be art? Probably not. But God does want us performing to the best of our abilities, and for some reason, people really get riled up when I suggest Jerry isn't, even though he admits it. The problem is, among other things, we have different criteria for evaluating Christian books. I want to look at the "book" part, others look at the "Christian" part. I want the Christian part to be inherent in the book part. Is that being prejudiced? Shouldn't we all just relax and let people read the books they want to? Why are we being so mean?

I've been asked what I have against "dumb" people.

So it hit me today as I drove home, we need to keep on, pushing on with this struggle to make room for the innovative stuff. Yes, high-selling books like Left Behind help to do that. And certainly, books like that have allowed for some great books in CBA to take on the work of real change to the landscape, challenging readers to look at the higher shelves. The Left Behind series isn't the great evil we might think. In fact, if you tune out your judgment, there's plenty to enjoy there.

But there's my challenge. The tuning out part is difficult because I wish we could all be discerning readers. That doesn't mean we shouldn't use books to escape. We all need escape; thank God for the escape of grace. And there's a correlation to Jerry's "cookies-on-the-bottom-shelf" ideology and God's coming down to our level. I do see that. Yet still, grace remains difficult. God made it available; he didn't make it easy.

I think there's value in asking these questions. It's not just to be negative or judge people and their books. It isn't to be elitist or even suggest there's a problem of mediocrity in CBA we need to fix. I want all kinds of books for all kinds of people. I just want to give equal time to books that point higher, maybe even books on the bottom shelf that challenge people to look up, reach higher. Left Behind does that for many people, maybe not everyone, but that's no crime, is it?

Ultimately, it's the writer who will have to answer for how he uses his talents. That should be something we all agree on.