Chris Fabry's work is powerful. Dogwoodleft a profound impact on me. I've interviewed Chris one other time, and thus after reading June Bug I had yet a few more questions. Please read my initial interview here, and then see what Chris had to share about his latest novel, June Bug. It is apparent that God is using Chris in a mighty way to create powerful pictures of God's grace. I am honored to have had another brief visit with him.
Where on earth did you find your inspiration for this story? How did your heart stand the pain of writing so honestly about such brutal reality in the lives of so many?
Kim, you picked up on the pain part. This was written during the biggest turmoil of our lives, moving out of our house, losing our two dogs, leaving with nothing but the clothes on our backs. So it was pretty easy to put myself in that situation where they were losing all and seeing life change so drastically.
Who do you hope to reach with this story?
I’m always trying to write the best story I can and I let the person who is touched be touched. That said, I really wanted to target the female reader who feels aimless and who feels abandoned by God. I really hoped people would see God’s grace poured out through the story.
Do you feel some will be turned off because faith isn't presented in a "pretty" package?
I’m sure some would like it depicted much more cut and dried. I don’t feel that way. Faith in the midst of reality is what I appreciate, and it’s what I see in scripture. Not that my writing can be compared with the Bible, but when I read about David, his life is not sugarcoated. He makes mistakes. He sins grievously. There are consequences but God still loves him and uses him. I want that to come through with each story.
Do you think many miss out on God's blessings because they don't want to help others find hope inside their hopelessness? Don't want to reach out and make the difference in the life of a child?
I think we don’t make a difference because we’re so busy, we’re so focused on what we’re focused on. And those can be really good things. To live outwardly, you have to be willing to open your eyes and see what’s right in front of you. For me, that’s my family and their needs and then those I come in contact with. We don’t have a lifestyle of willingness to get messy with others’ lives. It’s just too hard. And yet, that’s where the real hope and joy comes from, I think.
Thanks again, Chris for sharing your heart. Thank you for writing such powerful stories of redemption and grace. We all look forward to watching where God leads your writing career from here!
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Chris Fabry is a native of West Virginia who hosts the daily program Chris Fabry Live! on Moody Radio. He and his wife, Andrea, are the parents of nine children. Chris is the author of Dogwood, his first novel for adults, and co-author of Jim Tressel’s New York Times best-selling The Winners Manual. Chris has also published more than sixty other books, including many novels for children and young adults.
List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 336 pages
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers (July 9, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1414319568
ISBN-13: 978-1414319568
MY REVIEW:
As I write this review, tears wet my cheeks and my chest trembles from crying. Chris Fabry’s June Bug has touched me deeply, and I will do my best to tell you why.
First I will tell you that June Bug’s reality isn’t so fictional. I learned that last year when I watched six children under the age of eight provide the only comfort and security for one another they’d ever known in their short lives. When an eight-year-old boy is the only person in an eleven-month-old’s life that can bring comfort enough to fall asleep at night, you know beyond a doubt that evil exists in the world. You also realize that giving birth to a child doesn’t touch the heart of some people, and thus some children are born orphans.
June Bug’s life was headed down an evil path and headed toward certain death as certainly as John Johnson’s life hovered on the brink of that same evil abyss. Their lives became forever intertwined, and the seven years they spent together was the purest, sweetest picture of God’s mercy and grace you’ll ever read on paper. I wish all children were loved as deeply and as well as June Bug. The reader picks up June Bug’s story at a tumultuous point in her relationship with John, and the changes that begin to take place take the reader on a journey to the very definition of unconditional love.
On the flip side of John and June Bug’s precious and precarious relationship, there is May, Dana and Leason Edwards. Their story is also hauntingly familiar to me after two years of volunteer work in a residential rehab facility. Again, I shudder to admit that their story reads more as reality to me than fiction, and my heart aches for them. Mae’s tenacious yet fierce hold on God’s hand despite the cruelty of her only child…the unwavering, heart-crushing hope of seeing her only grandchild again…oh, how I longed to comfort her! Yet she was fiercely believing the promise of God’s word – to bring glory out of our sinful choices…to redeem our dark souls – that I eagerly cheered her stalwart faith. I’ve had to walk through some of those desert places in my own life, and so early in the story I grabbed hold of her hope and refused to let go!
I can’t wax eloquent on the story and it’s relationship to Les Miserables – and that embarrasses the English major in me just a little. However, I can tell you most certainly that June Bug will speak to your heart deeply. You will hug those you love a little tighter and thank God for loving you enough to get you through this often painful path of life and bring you to a place where you can trust Him enough to let go.
Still wiping tears…don’t miss this one! June Bug…Chris Fabry….amazing!
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Some people know every little thing about themselves, like how much they weighed when they were born and how long they were from head to toe and which hospital their mama gave birth to them in and stuff like that. I’ve heard that some people even have a black footprint on a pink sheet of paper they keep in a baby box. The only box I have is a small suitcase that snaps shut where I keep my underwear in so only I can see it.
My dad says there’s a lot of things people don’t need and that their houses get cluttered with it and they store it in basements that flood and get ruined, so it’s better to live simple and do what you want rather than get tied down to a mortgage—whatever that is. I guess that’s why we live in an RV. Some people say “live out of,” but I don’t see how you can live out of something when you’re living inside it and that’s what we do. Daddy sleeps on the bed by the big window in the back, and I sleep in the one over the driver’s seat. You have to remember not to sit up real quick in the morning or you’ll have a headache all day, but it’s nice having your own room.
I believed everything my daddy told me until I walked into Walmart and saw my picture on a poster over by the place where the guy with the blue vest stands. He had clear tubes going into his nose, and a hiss of air came out every time he said, “Welcome to Walmart.”
My eyes were glued to that picture. I didn’t hear much of anything except the lady arguing with the woman at the first register over a return of some blanket the lady swore she bought there. The Walmart lady’s voice was getting all trembly. She said there was nothing she could do about it, which made the customer woman so mad she started cussing and calling the woman behind the counter names that probably made people blush.
The old saying is that the customer is always right, but I think it’s more like the customer is as mean as a snake sometimes. I’ve seen them come through the line and stuff a bunch of things under their carts where the cashier won’t see it and leave without paying. Big old juice boxes and those frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Those look good but Daddy says if you have to freeze your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then something has gone wrong with the world, and I think he’s right. He says it’s a sin to be mean to workers at Walmart because they let us use their parking lot. He also says that when they start putting vitamins and minerals in Diet Coke the Apocalypse is not far behind. I don’t know what the Apocalypse is, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was right about that too.
You can’t know the feeling of seeing your picture on a wall inside a store unless it has happened to you, and I have to believe I am in a small group of people on the planet. It was all I could do to just suck in a little air and keep my heart beating because I swear I could feel it slow down to almost nothing. Daddy says a hummingbird’s heart beats something like a million times a minute. I was the opposite of a hummingbird, standing there with my eyes glued to that picture. Some people going outside had to walk around me to the Exit doors, but I couldn’t move. I probably looked strange—just a girl staring at the Picture Them Home shots with an ache or emptiness down deep that I can’t tell anybody about. It’s like trying to tell people what it feels like to have your finger smashed in a grocery cart outside when it’s cold. It doesn’t do any good to tell things like that. Nobody would listen anyway because they’re in a hurry to get back to their houses with all the stuff in them and the mortgage to pay, I guess.
The photo wasn’t exactly me. It was “like” me, almost like I was looking in a mirror. On the left was a real picture of me from when I was little. I’d never seen a picture like that because my dad says he doesn’t have any of them. I’ve gone through his stuff, and unless he’s got a really good hiding place, he’s telling the truth. On the right side was the picture of what I would look like now, which was pretty close to the real me. The computer makes your face fuzzy around the nose and the eyes, but there was no mistake in my mind that I was looking at the same face I see every morning in the rearview.
The girl’s name was Natalie Anne Edwards, and I rolled it around in my head as the people wheeled their carts past me to get to the Raisin Bran that was two for four dollars in the first aisle by the pharmacy. I’d seen it for less, so I couldn’t see the big deal.
Natalie’s photo is shown age progressed to 9 years. She is missing from Dogwood, West Virginia. She has a dark birthmark on her left cheek. She was taken on June 16, 2002, by an unknown abductor.
I felt my left cheek and the birthmark there. Daddy says it looks a little like some guy named Nixon who was president before he was born, but I try not to look at it except when I’m in the bathroom or when I have my mirror out in bed and I’m using my flashlight. I’ve always wondered if the mark was the one thing my mother gave me or if there was anything she cared to give me at all. Daddy doesn’t talk much about her unless I get to nagging him, and then he’ll say something like, “She was a good woman,” and leave it at that. I’ll poke around a little more until he tells me to stop it. He says not to pick at things or they’ll never get better, but some scabs call out to you every day.
I kept staring at the picture and my name, the door opening and closing behind me and a train whistle sounding in the distance, which I think is one of the loneliest sounds in the world, especially at night with the crickets chirping. My dad says he loves to go to sleep to the sound of a train whistle because it reminds him of his childhood.
The guy with the tubes in his nose came up behind me. “You all right, little girl?”
It kind of scared me—not as much as having to go over a bridge but pretty close. I don’t know what it is about bridges. Maybe it’s that I’m afraid the thing is going to collapse. I’m not really scared of the water because my dad taught me to swim early on. There’s just something about bridges that makes me quiver inside, and that’s why Daddy told me to always crawl up in my bed and sing “I’ll Fly Away,” which is probably my favorite song. He tries to warn me in advance of big rivers like the Mississippi when we’re about to cross them or he’ll get an earful of screams.
I nodded to the man with the tubes and left, but I couldn’t help glancing back at myself. I walked into the bathroom and sat in the stall awhile and listened to the speakers and the tinny music. Then I thought, The paper says my birthday is June 20, but Daddy says it’s April 9. Maybe it’s not really me.
When I went back out and looked again, there was no doubt in my mind. That was me up there behind the glass. And I couldn’t figure out a good way to ask Daddy why he had lied to me or why he called me June Bug instead of Natalie Anne. In the books I read and the movies I’ve seen on DVD—back when we had a player that worked—there’s always somebody at the end who comes out and says, “I love you” and makes everything all right. I wonder if that’ll ever happen to me. I guess there’s a lot of people who want somebody to tell them, “I love you.”
I wandered to electronics and the last aisle where they have stereos and headsets and stuff. I wasn’t searching for anything in particular, just piddling around, trying to get that picture out of my head.
Three girls ran back to the same aisle and pawed through the flip-flops.
“This is going to be so much fun!” a girl with two gold rings on her fingers said. “I think Mom will let me sleep over at your house tonight.”
“Can’t,” the one with long brown hair said. “I’ve got swim practice early in the morning.”
“You can sleep over at my house,” the third one said almost in a whine, like she was pleading for something she knew she wouldn’t get. She wore glasses and weighed about as much as a postage stamp. “I don’t have to do anything tomorrow.”
Gold Rings ignored her and pulled out a pair of pink shoes with green and yellow circles. The price said $13.96. “These will be perfect—don’t you think?”
“Mom said to find ones that are cheap and plain so we can decorate them,” Brown Hair said.
“What about tomorrow night?” Gold Rings said. “We could rent a movie and sleep over at my house. You don’t have swim practice Thursday, do you?”
They talked and giggled and moved on down the aisle, and I wondered what it would be like to have a friend ask you to sleep over. Or just to have a friend. Living on the road in a rolling bedroom has its advantages, but it also has its drawbacks, like never knowing where you’re going to be from one day to the next. Except when your RV breaks down and you can’t find the right part for it, which is why we’ve been at this same Walmart a long time.
“You still here, girl?” someone said behind me.
I turned to see the lady with the blue vest and a badge that said Assistant Manager. The three girls must have picked up their flip-flops and ran because when I looked back around they were gone. The lady’s hair was blonde, a little too blonde, but she had a pretty face that made me think she might have won some beauty contest in high school. Her khaki pants were a little tight, and she wore white shoes that didn’t make any noise at all when she walked across the waxed floor, which was perfect when she wanted to sneak up on three girls messing with the flip-flops.
“Did your dad get that part he was looking for?” she said, bending down.
“No, ma’am, not yet.” There was almost something kind in her eyes, like I could trust her with some deep, dark secret if I had one. Then I remembered I did have one, but I wasn’t about to tell the first person I talked to about my picture.
“It must be hard being away from your family. Where’s your mama?”
“I don’t have one.”
She turned her head a little. “You mean she passed?”
I shrugged. “I just don’t have one.”
“Everyone has a mama. It’s a fact of life.” She sat on a stool used when you try on the shoes and I saw myself in the mirror at the bottom. I couldn’t help thinking about the picture at the front of the store and that the face belonged to someone named Natalie Anne.
“Are you two on a trip? Must be exciting traveling in that RV. I’ve always wanted to take off and leave my troubles behind.”
When I didn’t say anything, she looked at the floor and I could see the dark roots. She smelled pretty, like a field of flowers in spring. And her fingernails were long and the tips white.
She touched a finger to an eye and tried to get at something that seemed to be bothering her. “My manager is a good man, but he can get cranky about things. He mentioned your RV and said it would need to be moved soon.”
“But Daddy said you’d let us park as long as we needed.”
She nodded. “Now don’t worry. This is all going to work out. Just tell your dad to come in and talk with me, okay? The corporate policy is to let people . . .”
I didn’t know what a corporate policy was, and I was already torn up about finding out my new name, so I didn’t pay much attention to the rest of what she had to say. Then she looked at me with big brown eyes that I thought would be nice to say good night to, and I noticed she didn’t wear a wedding ring. I didn’t used to notice things like that, but life can change you.
“Maybe you could come out and talk to him,” I said.
She smiled and then looked away. “What did you have for supper tonight?”
“We didn’t really have anything. He gave me a few dollars to get Subway, but I’m tired of those.”
She touched my arm. “It’ll be all right. Don’t you worry. My name’s Sheila. What’s yours?”
“June Bug,” I said. For the first time in my life I knew I was lying about my name.
***
Johnson stared at the sun through the rear window. Pollen from the pine trees and dirt from a morning rain streaked it yellow and brown in a haphazard design. Three Mexicans climbed out of a Ford. Tools piled in the back of the truck and compost and some black tarp. One slapped another on the back and dust flew up. Another knocked the guy’s hat off and they laughed.
The sun was at the trees on the top of the nearby mountain, then in them, and going down fast. An orange glow settled in and Johnson’s stomach growled. He glanced across the parking lot at the neon liquor store sign next to the Checker Auto Parts, and his throat parched.
A newer RV, a Monaco Camelot, had parked at the end of the lot, and the owner pulled a shade at the front windshield for privacy. He wondered what driving one of those would be like. How much mileage it would get per gallon. The smooth ride on the road. Almost looked like a rolling hotel.
He sat up and looked out the front of the RV. The way they were parked gave him a good view of the store’s entrance. An old guy with an oxygen tank pushed two carts inside. The man smiled and greeted a mom and her children.
Johnson hit the down arrow on his laptop. One green light on the wireless network from the coffee shop. He wished he had parked closer to the end of the lot, but he hadn’t planned on getting stuck here.
A loud knock at the door, like he’d just run over someone’s dog and it was under the back tire yelping. Johnson moved slowly, but he was agile in his bare feet. He caught a glimpse of the guy in the right mirror. Blue vest. Portly. Maybe thirty but not much older. Probably got the job through someone he knew. Johnson opened the door and nodded at the man.
“Just wondering how long you’re thinking of staying,” the man said. There was an edge to his voice, like he was nervous about something.
Johnson stepped down onto the asphalt that was still warm from the sun but not unbearable. “Like I said, I’m waiting on a part. If I could get out of here, believe me I’d be long gone.”
The man looked at the ground. “Well, you’ll have to move on. It’s been—”
“Three weeks.”
“—three weeks and it could be three more before whatever part you’re looking for comes, so I think it’s best you move on.”
“And how do you want me to move it? Push it to the interstate?”
“I can call a tow truck.”
Johnson looked away. Boy Scouts at the Entrance sign were selling lightbulbs. Pink and orange clouds had turned blue, like something was roiling on the other side of the mountain. A black-and-white police car pulled into the parking lot and passed them. The man in the vest waved and the officer returned it.
“I’ll give you one more night,” the manager said. “If you’re not out of here by morning, I’m calling the towing company.”
Johnson wanted to say something more, but he just pursed his lips and nodded and watched the man waddle, pigeon-toed, back to the store.
The girl came out and passed the manager, smiling and swinging a blue bag. She had a new spiral notebook inside. She’d filled more of those things than he could count, and it didn’t look like she was slowing down.
“Did you get your work done?” she said as she bounded in and tossed the bag on her bed.
Johnson opened the fridge and took out a warm can of Dr Pepper. “Enough.”
“What did the manager guy want?”
“He said we’d won a shopping spree.”
“He did not.”
Johnson took a long pull from the can and belched. “He was just wondering how long we’d be here.”
“I met a friend,” the girl said, her face shining. “She’s really nice. And pretty. And I don’t think she’s married. And she has the most beautiful eyes.”
“June Bug, the last thing we need is somebody with her eyes on this treasure.” He spread his arms out in the RV. “What woman could resist this castle?”
“She’s not after your treasure. She just cares about us. She said the manager guy was getting upset that we’ve been here so long. Is that what he told you?”
“Nah, this is a big parking lot. We’re gonna be fine. Did you get something to eat?”
June Bug shook her head and climbed up to her bed. “Almost finished with my last journal. I want to start a new one tonight.”
“What do you put in those things? What kind of stuff do you write down?”
“I don’t know. Just things that seem important. Places we’ve been. It’s sort of like talking to a friend who won’t tell your secrets.”
“What kind of secrets?”
She slipped off her plastic shoes and let them fall to the floor, then opened the bag and took out a dark green notebook. “When you tell me what you’re writing about on that computer, I’ll tell you what’s in my notebooks.”
Johnson smiled and took another drink from the can, then tossed it in the trash.
At the storefront, the police car had stopped and the manager leaned over the open window.
Keith Clemons speaks about his novel, Mohamed's Moon:
MY REVIEW: Mohamed’s Moonis the fourth book I’ve read recently that features a contrast between the Christian faith and that of Islam. I can’t help but believe that God is using the talents of authors like Keith Clemons to make plain a very important message: God’s Word is living, and it is sharper than any two-edged sword, a Word that changes hearts for all eternity. Mohamed’s Moon is a suspenseful tale of global proportions, but the personal conflict between Layla, Mohamed and Matthew is one that really reaches out and touches your heart.
I enjoyed this story and found its descriptive passages are particularly intriguing. The inner conflict that took place in the lives of each of the main characters portrayed realistic emotions and a heartfelt examination of faith and belief in God despite unpleasant circumstances. I was especially pleased that the author clearly presented the gospel, then used the continued exposure to God’s Word to draw Mohamed’s heart toward the truth and to reveal the untruth of the Islamic teaching. Like all unbelievers, Mohamed’s struggle against Christ was great, but the power of God’s Word proved stronger than his unbelief.
I must be honest and tell you that the ending was a bit too idealistic to me. It was exciting, and given the plot details revealed at that point, it was logical. I wasn’t completely satisfied until I read the epilogue, because then I understood that the loose ends weren’t as neatly tied together as I first thought. Otherwise, this really was a good book with a very engaging storyline. What impressed me the most was that the author is trumpeting truth, and the message is more timely than ever. I happily recommend Mohamed’s Moonto all my readers!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Keith Clemens is a native of Southern California and graduate of English Literature at California State University, Fullerton. His passion for communication has resulted in the publication of more than a hundred articles. Today, in addition to writing, he appears on radio and television where he uses his communications skills to explain coming trends that will affect both the church and society at large. Clemens lives with his wife and daughter in Caledon, Ontario, Canada and has written five novels including Angel in the Alley and the award winning If I Should Die, These Little Ones, and Above The Stars.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Lisa Harper is a master storyteller whose lively approach connects the dots between the Bible era and modern life. She is a sought-after Bible teacher and speaker whose upcoming appearances include the national Women of Faith Conferences. A veteran of numerous radio and television programs and the author of several books, she also is a regular columnist for Today’s Christian Woman magazine. Lisa recently completed a master’s of theological studies from Covenant Theological Seminary. She makes her home outside Nashville.
What Psalm 1 reveals about avoiding potholes in the path of life
God’s words, creating
and saving words every one,
hit us where we live.
—Eugene H. Peterson
I’m a sucker for fashionable shoes. Unfortunately, cool “kicks” are often synonymous with wincing in agony. Which was the case a few months ago when I became madly infatuated with a pair of black, knee-high, leather boots while shopping in Chicago. When I tried them on and pranced around in a circle to impress my friends Kim and Sharon, they both looked dubious. Kim even asked, “Are you sure they’re comfortable? Because you look like you’re walking funny.”
I replied flippantly, “Yeah, they’re comfortable. And aren’t they the most gorgeous boots you’ve ever seen?” while intentionally taking slower steps so as not to teeter in front of them anymore.
Of course, they weren’t comfortable at all. I should’ve done the smart thing and put those boots back into the box they came from. I should’ve told the solicitous Nordstrom clerk, “No thank you,” and walked out of the store empty-handed. But I’m more of an impulse shopper than an intelligent consumer, especially when it comes to shoes. So I surrendered the Visa and assured myself, They’re just a little stiff because they’re made of such high-quality Italian leather. It won’t take long for them to get broken in, and then they’ll be as comfortable as a pair of slippers.
I foolishly decided to break them in that very night at a business event because they complemented the outfit I was wearing. I was convinced the cuteness factor far outweighed the possibility of discomfort. Besides, I reasoned, a little pinch is nothing compared to how hip these boots will make me look.
Less than an hour later I was hobbling around like a geisha. And by the time the emcee introduced me, I no longer had any sensation in my toes. I limped mincingly to the podium and tried to focus on speaking while fearing my feet were in the initial stages of gangrene. All the while, my friends sat on the front row wearing “I told you so” expressions. Afterward they teased that I should’ve explained the new-shoe shuffle to the audience. They mused that some people might have wondered if I’d been boozing it up beforehand since I couldn’t walk right all night!
Walking right is the theme of Psalm 1. This first song in the Psalter emphasizes how we must follow our heavenly Father’s path instead of being lured off course by what ungodly people proclaim to be fashionable. And this ode to obedience includes a warning as well: attempting to be hip in ways that aren’t cool with God will ultimately lead to hobbling around in pain, separated from the only One who loves you unconditionally.
“JOY” THIEVES
I can’t help but grin over the fact that the book of Psalms begins with the word happy. And I find it especially intriguing that the happiness in Psalm 1 isn’t associated with eating dark chocolate or finding a pair of designer shoes on the clearance rack. Instead this literary smiley face refers to the profound joy and satisfaction that accompany walking closely with God:1
Happy are those who don’t listen to the wicked,
who don’t go where sinners go,
who don’t do what evil people do. Psalm 1:1, NCV
?When was the last time you hobbled around in pain due to your own foolish choices?
One Sunday when I was in junior high school, I was sitting in church beside a cute lothario named Gary. You can imagine how I felt when this suave young man, who was five years older than I and the object of a huge crush on my part, put his arm around my shoulders. We were sitting a few pews in front of Dad, and although Gary’s attention was so titillating I couldn’t pay attention to the sermon, I could sense Dad’s disapproval wafting through the sanctuary. When the service was over, my normally soft spoken father pulled me aside and declared, “I’d better never catch you swapping slobber with that boy.” Then he tersely told me to get in the car.
We drove home in uncomfortable silence, my dad staring straight ahead and me staring out the window thinking, I hope none of my friends heard Dad. I can’t believe he actually said “slobber”! Ugh, I wish he wasn’t such a fuddy duddy. After we had pulled into the driveway and I had started walking toward the house,
Dad finally broke the silence by saying, “Lisa, come over here for a minute.” He motioned for me to join him by the picnic table. I approached with a cautious “Yes sir,” and he said, “I want you to get up on the table.” I thought, Oh man, Dad’s losing it! But he looked so serious that I obediently climbed on top of the picnic table.
Then he held up his arms and said, “Take hold of my hands. Now when I say go, I want you to try to pull me up while I try to pull you off.” Of course, the minute he said go and pulled, I had to jump down because I couldn’t keep my balance. Dad smiled—sort of sadly—and patted the bench beside him. When I sat down, he said, “Honey, you need to realize that it’s almost impossible to raise someone else up to your standards. If you choose to be with people who have lower morals, nine times out of ten they’ll pull you down to their level.”
PSALMS:
THE INSIDE STORY
The Hebrew word for
“happy” in Psalm 1:1 is
’ašr-ey, which can also be
translated “blessed.”2
It wasn’t until a year or two later, after Gary had thoroughly rebelled against his Christian upbringing and gotten a young girl pregnant, that Dad’s backyard object lesson really hit home. I realized he wasn’t being a fuddy-duddy when he warned me about sharing spit with the community Casanova; he was protecting me. Dad knew what my adolescent heart had yet to learn: bad company is as corrosive as battery acid. Lounging around with unrepentant rebels is a sure way to lose your joy.
Which is the bottom line of the beginning of Psalm 1: happiness can’t keep company with wickedness.
ABBA’S ARBORETUM
My first tour of Israel ranks way up there on the “a few of my favorite things” list. The Mount of Beatitudes left me speechless. The Wailing Wall left me in tears. And the Garden Tomb left me giddy with gratitude. But the parched terrain of the Promised Land initially left me puzzled. I guess I’d always imagined Israel as a lush green landscape dotted with fluffy white sheep and bearded guys playing harps under big shade trees (largely due to the influence of flannel-graph lessons in Vacation Bible School). It took a few days after landing at the Tel Aviv airport for me to get used to the wind-swept panorama of thorn bushes, rocks, and scruffy little acacia
THE JOY OF DOING GOOD
In a recent research project on the
source of happiness, psychologists
found that “the more virtue-building
activities people engaged in, the happier
they said they were both on the day in
question and on the following day.” But
they noted with some surprise, “there
was no relationship between pleasure seeking
and happiness.”3
trees. As if I were using an Etch A Sketch, I had to shake the image of a garden from my mind and twist the dials to redraw Israel as a desert.
The reality of Israel’s arid topography is what makes the lush imagery in the next two verses so striking.
They love the LORD’s teachings,
and they think about those teachings day and night.
They are strong, like a tree planted by a river.
The tree produces fruit in season,
and its leaves don’t die.
Everything they do will succeed. Psalm 1:2–3, NCV
It’s unlikely this psalmist had ever seen a big tree unless it had been transplanted, which is a more accurate translation of the word “planted” in verse 3.4 As a matter of fact, quality lumber was such a scarcity in Israel (except for olive trees, which are more valuable for their oil than their timber) that Solomon actually had to arrange for cedar beams to be floated in from Lebanon when they were building the temple in Jerusalem.5 That’s why this arbor metaphor is an unmistakable reference to God’s blessing; only He could make a tree grow strong and tall in the sweltering heat and sandy soil of Israel. Only He could cultivate vegetation so perfectly that its leaves wouldn’t wither in a drought.
What this means for us is that whoever has been transplanted into God’s garden will flourish. And I really dig (pun intended) the psalmist’s use of the term “transplanted” here, because it implies that salvation is by grace, that because we can’t plant ourselves, God plucks us from the dark, sunless place where we’d been decaying and lovingly replants us in a perfect spot where we’re guaranteed to flourish. We will get bigger and more beautiful, to the point of actually bearing fruit, as we absorb the living water our Creator provides. Plus, when our roots are anchored in Him, even figurative droughts like critical in-laws or financial crises or cancer diagnoses won’t destroy us. The “leaves” of those loved by God don’t die.
Our heavenly Father—who also happens to have a supernatural green thumb—promises to nourish and protect His saplings.
Before we go any further, you may be wondering about the assertion that “everything they do will succeed” at the end of verse 3, which at first glance seems about as truthful as the weight listed on my driver’s license until our government chose to omit that data (maybe because most people fudged on the amount). How can the psalmist label broken relationships or rebellious children or infertility or crippling depression a success? How can he sincerely sing, “Everything they do will succeed,” when all of God’s children experience failure of some kind or another? Has he been guzzling cough syrup, or is he just wearing overly optimistic blinders?
Neither. Because this promise of prosperity is preceded by the context “everything they do”—which in this passage is defined by spiritual obedience—“ succeed” in verse 3 is in reference to walking closely with God.6 It’s essentially an Old Testament version of Romans 8:28: “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”
It doesn’t mean we’ll get everything we want exactly how and when we want it. And it sure doesn’t mean everything we do will be judged successful by human standards. What it means is that ultimately our sovereign Redeemer will work everything out for our good and His glory because we are His people and He loves us. It means being in a real,
PSALMS:
THE INSIDE STORY
Psalm 1 doesn’t have a formal
title or author’s name, which
puts it among the orphan psalms.
redemptive relationship with the Creator of the universe is the true measure of success.
THE FLEETING EXISTENCE OF EVIL
God-haters, by contrast, aren’t deep rooted or taken care of by a divine gardener; they’re more like tumbleweeds that roll across the ground, only to inevitably disintegrate in barbed wire:
But wicked people are not like that.
They are like chaff that the wind blows away.
Psalm 1:4, NCV
I recently had oral surgery because the root of an upper molar had fractured in half, leaving me with no option but to have the tooth yanked out of my head. My dentist advised me to get an implant as opposed to an old-fashioned partial or bridge. This means that after the gaping wound from the extraction heals, the surgeon will drill a titanium screw into my jawbone, then when it grafts sufficiently, she’ll affix a porcelain crown to the screw and—presto!—I’ll have a shiny new molar that, according to the brochure, will last over two hundred years. (I’m not sure why the longevity of the implant is considered a selling point since the rest of me will presumably be long gone by then.)
Of course none of this six-thousand-dollar procedure is covered by insurance, and the whole process takes about a year, but I was too loopy from laughing gas to stop and think about the consequences. The worst one being that in place of my trusty old tooth, I now have a “flipper” (common dental vernacular for the fake tooth patients wear prior to getting the actual implant). Furthermore, because this flipper clips on instead of being secured with adhesive, I have a gap between it and my gum that causes me to talk with a noticeable lisp. Believe me, this is a real bummer when you gab for a living!
My dentist told me the tooth trauma actually started with a substandard root canal I had in college, which left me with a compromised chomper that probably cracked when I fell headfirst off a ladder onto a concrete floor a few years ago. He also broke the news that I’ll likely need another implant in the near future.
Like the hair color I was born with and the steel-trap memory I had in young adulthood, even my permanent teeth have proved to be temporary.
Verse 4 explains that the wicked won’t last either. Oh, they may have their season in the sun when it seems as if they’re sitting on top of the world. But their days are numbered. It won’t be long before God yanks those who defy Him out of their abscessed existence. Their chance of survival matches that of a snowball in the Sahara!
THEIR TRAGIC TRAIL’S END
All three of my aunts have worked in public education. One has been a middle-school teacher for decades, and the other two have taught in the classroom and also worked in administration. One of them recently told me about having to expel a high-school senior for attempting to sell prescription drugs two weeks before the end of the school year. This kid was all set to start college in the fall when he chose to become a Vicodin vendor.
PSALMS:
THE INSIDE STORY
In Hebrew, the book of
Psalms is titled tehillim, which
(when translated) means
“songs of praise.” And since
each psalm was originally
crafted as a song, that makes
Psalms essentially the first
hymnal of God’s people!7
But my aunt didn’t have the luxury of lenience, despite his status as a soon-to-be graduate. She had no choice but to call the police, because her high school has a zero-tolerance policy with regard to drugs.
When this student should have been laughing with his buddies in the locker room, he was instead being handcuffed and hauled off to jail. When he should have been striding across the stage to receive his diploma and then smiling into the camera lens of his proud papa, he was instead ostracized and alone. When he should’ve been listening to the lectures of university professors as a baby-faced freshman, he was instead repeating lessons from his last semester in high school. Because of very bad choices, this young man was severely punished. He was effectively barred from the life he could have enjoyed.
And so it is with the wicked. Instead of being happy and content in communion with our Creator, unrepentant sinners will ultimately be cut off from the land of the living. They will not pass Go, they will not collect two hundred dollars, and they will not get to graduate to glory with their classmates:
So the wicked will not escape God’s punishment.
Sinners will not worship with God’s people.
Psalm 1:5, NCV
OUR CONSTANT OBSERVER
I recently had a motion-activated camera installed on my back porch by the Williamson County Sheriff ’s Department (chapter 7 tells the Paul Harvey part of this story). Unfortunately I didn’t realize that along with the ability to capture burglars in a digital format, it also recorded me every time I opened or closed the back door. A week later one of the detectives came by to change the battery and started teasing about arresting me on animal-cruelty charges. He explained how he and several other deputies had gotten a big kick out of watching the footage of my leg stepping through a crack in the door, followed by my cat Lazarus sailing through the air like a Frisbee.
I was so embarrassed, because I love animals. But my recently adopted, houseplant-shredding tabby is a feisty little critter. Whenever I gently place Lazarus outside, he races back in before I can close the door and then attempts to shred something else before I nab him again. So I’ve gotten into the habit of tossing him a short distance so I can close the door without squashing any part of his anatomy in the process. (Don’t worry. He always lands unharmed on his feet.) Little did I know that my nightly cat toss was being viewed in living color by local law-enforcement officials.
PSALMS: THE INSIDE STORY
The 150 individual psalms that make up the book of Psalms (also referred to as the Psalter) were written over a time span of almost one thousand years, from Moses’s era (1400 BC) until the southern Jews returned from captivity in Babylon (around 500 BC). That means these poems were penned while God’s people were wandering around in the desert, when they made their bittersweet return to Jerusalem only to find the land of milk and honey had become a mess, and every season in between. It’s an understatement to say the historical landscape of these lyrics is diverse; Psalms is like a comprehensive musical anthology that covers everything from Rachmaninoff to rap!
They were privy to everything; in fact, their vantage point was so intimate, they could even tell the color of my pajamas! The next section of Psalm 1 is all about God’s observation of us. In fact, the English Standard Version of the Bible puts it like this:
For the LORD knows the way of the righteous. Psalm 1:6
God knows His people. He has intimate awareness of all our ways…pet hurling and otherwise. Which makes me wonder: if we could actually see the red light of God’s “camera” being activated by every thought that runs through our heads, every word that crosses our lips, and everything we do in public and private, how would we behave? Wouldn’t you rather have holy inscribed on your divine DVD than heinous?
Finally, just as the sheriff-cam was bad news for the convicted criminal who used to lurk around my house, so is God’s complete knowledge of human character bad news for the wicked at the end of this opening psalm:
But the wicked will be destroyed. Psalm 1:6, NCV
Which means that unbelievers aren’t simply sitting ducks who might get wiped out; their annihilation is assured. God’s people will be the ones hiking along the path of hope and happiness, but the wicked dudes are blithely prancing straight toward obliteration. They’re going to be burned up faster than petty cash at Target!
SECURITY COMES WITH THE SHEPHERD
The guaranteed security of God’s people, in contrast with the definitive destruction of those who don’t follow Him, in Psalm 1 reminds me of this sermon Jesus preached in the New Testament:
When he finally arrives, blazing in beauty and all his angels with him, the Son of Man will take his place on his glorious throne. Then all the nations will be arranged before him and he will sort the people out, much as a shepherd sorts out sheep and goats, putting sheep to his right and goats to his left.
Then the King will say to those on his right, “Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why:
I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.”
Then those “sheep” are going to say, “Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?” Then the King will say, “I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.”
Then he will turn to the “goats,” the ones on his left, and say, “Get out, worthless goats! You’re good for nothing but the fires of hell. And why? Because—
I was hungry and you gave me no meal,
I was thirsty and you gave me no drink,
I was homeless and you gave me no bed,
I was shivering and you gave me no clothes,
Sick and in prison, and you never visited.”
Then those “goats” are going to say, “Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or homeless or shivering or sick or in prison and didn’t help?”
He will answer them, “I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you failed to do one of these things to someone who was being overlooked or ignored, that was me—you failed to do it to me.”
Then those “goats” will be herded to their eternal doom, but the “sheep” to their eternal reward. Matthew 25:31–46, MSG
While this story portrays the “good” group as being more giving—they volunteer with Prison Fellowship and cook dinner for down-on-their-luck neighbors and share their soda with cotton-mouthed strangers—they’re only emulating their Master. Because they’ve walked closely with Jesus, they’ve begun to mirror some of His mannerisms. It’s not that they’re inherently better than the wicked guys; sheep and goats are both stinky, hairy manure machines. (Believe it or not, I actually have a bit of firsthand experience on this issue.) Furthermore, my veterinarian friends tell me that goats are actually smarter than sheep. That means sheep don’t have more intrinsic value than goats. The real reason they’re elevated in this gospel imagery is their relationship with the Shepherd. He’s the reason sheep get to be on the right side. He’s the reason they’re spared.
Just like the smelly farm animals in Matthew 25, Psalm 1 reminds us that our salvation is tied to our Shepherd. Without Him, we would surely follow a delinquent gang of goats down the path of destruction. But God’s perfect grace blazes a trail of hope and happiness for messy people like us. When we follow our Father’s directions, we’ll be able to “walk right,” even when teetering on a pair of ill-fitting, too-cool-for-school boots!
The right-now relevance of Psalm 1
God’s love frees us to steer clear of the path of destruction and keep step
with Him in joyful obedience.
ENOUGH ABOUT ME. WHAT ABOUT YOU?
1. It’s been said that the primary purpose of biblical poetry (like that of Psalms) is not so much to teach us as to reach us. What kind of poetry or song lyrics do you emotionally resonate with the most?
2. Reread Psalm 1:1. List the top five people you’re most likely to listen to when you need advice. Do you typically walk away happy after listening to their counsel? Why or why not?
3. Describe a situation in which you were metaphorically “pulled off the picnic table” as a result of hanging around with ungodly rebels.
4. Read Jeremiah 17:7–8 and Matthew 5:3–12. How are the common themes in these passages connected to the overall theme of Psalm 1?
5. Compare Psalm 1:4 with Luke 3:15–17. Why do you think God “winnows” wicked people from His followers? Have you ever felt the need to separate yourself from some people because of their cruddy attitude about our Creator-Redeemer? How did you make the break?
6. What movie or book can you think of that reflects the theme of Psalm 1? Explain the parallels you see.
Confessions of a Pastor's Wife: He Speaks, Can You Hear Him? by Kathryn Bonner (Tate Publishing)
If you could hear God whispering, what would it sound like? Are you able to recognize His voice?
In Confessions of a Pastor’s Wife: He Speaks…Can you hear Him? author Kathryn Bonner shares her true confessions, revealing her teenage pregnancy and the many different ways God has spoken into her life, through subtle and profound ways, and even through humorous means, shedding light on the unique voice of God! Anyone from the outside looking in would think Kathryn’s “charmed life” had always been just that. As you read this page turner of confessions, you will discover that has not always been the case. Discover how to take steps with God, believing Him to guide and direct you, even when you don’t know where He’s taking you! Are you ready to hear Him speak into your life? Kathryn’s prayer for you is to know how God reveals Himself to you. You will learn to hear Him, and recognize His voice after reading Confessions of a Pastor’s Wife: He Speaks…Can You Hear Him?
“Kathryn’s zest for life and love for God jumps off of every page! This intimate personal story is like sharing a conversation with a girlfriend. Curl up in a favorite chair and be ready to laugh, listen and learn from this Sister in Christ.” Mary M. MacGregor; Women’s Ministries Consultant and Director of Leadership Development for the Episcopal Diocese of Texas.
Kathryn Bonner has a God-given passion for you to experience your life from this point forward with new ears to hear!
MY THOUGHTS: Kathryn Bonner writes in a very warm, conversational style, and it is clear that she is writing from her heart and following God's direction in her life. In her book, Kathryn shares her life-journey and personal experiences that have brought her to the place of hearing God's voice and following His perfect will for her life. She tells of the real struggles against fear and uncertainty and tells how God uses others to speak a particular truth for that moment of doubt. She shares the many unexpected ways God blessed her and her family through the faithful obedience of others to meet unspoken needs and calm the fear and doubt that plagued them.
In short, Kathryn Bonner's book is one of encouragement. She shares from her heart how God has worked in her life to show Himself faithful in absolutely every circumstance. Kathryn uses scripture that shows the details of God's faithfullness to fullfil His will in each of our lives, and she encourages each of us to listen for His voice and to answer Him with joyful hearts of obedience.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Gifted, Gracious, Genuine, Insightful, Good-humored and Petite. These words make it possible for you to have a bit of insight to Kathryn. Her depth, and her love for life, laughter and the Lord and her size! She has a passion for God's word. Kathryn has a way of finding the humor and the lighter side of things that will cause you to giggle and laugh out loud in one moment and ponder deeply the things of God and the application of the Word to your life in the next moment. Her radiant touch combined with her knowledge of the Word makes Kathryn unique. You will enjoy your time immensely with her and will discover new insights, new truths, and new ways of “doing” life.
Kathryn is married to a pastor, and loves being in ministry with her husband Bruce. They are empty nesters and enjoying life at this stage of the game. Kathryn shares who she is openly, including the fact that she has had teenage pregnancy. She wants everyone to know that though each of us have a past, we can stand free, completely free in the saving grace of Christ. God has been able to take her mess and use it for a message of hope and healing. She has love for God’s healing power and wants each of you to know that as well.
Kathryn is an author, a speaker and a Life Purpose Coach. She knows the power of breaking through the fears and stepping fully into your faith by the gift of coaching.
Kathryn has been married to Bruce, the love of her life since 1989, truly a gift from God. They have two wonderful daughters, Tabitha and Kellie Ann, and two wonderful sons-in-law Gerald and Chase.
Once again, Phl Smouse has created a delightful teaching tool for parents with children ages 3 to 5! Filled with delightlfully whimsical drawings, each page My Everyday Promise Bible features a promise from the Bible and a straight forward, easy to understand explanation of that promise that a child can easily relate to. This Bible will be released from Barbour publishing in September, and would make a terrific addition to any nursery or Sunday School program. The layout lends itself to teaching the concept of a daily devotional time with God, and leaves plenty of room for explanation and discussion.
I think this would be the ideal tool to use at bedtime with any toddler and teach them early to place all of their cares at the feet of Jesus. It's an excellent way to teach them about God's faithfulness and about the truth of His Word. I encourage you to check out the author's website to learn more about his work. Also, for your convenience, I am including an interview with the author provided by the publicist. I think you will agree that Phil Smouse has a unique talent that he is using for the glory of God. This will make a terrific addition to your toddler's library and will be a great idea for those who do their Christmas shopping early! (think grandparents!)
Q: What is unique about My Everyday Promise Bible?
A: As adults we always have easy access to our favorite Bible promises. Beautiful collections of our best loved—and most desperately needed—Bible verses are right at our fingertips every minute of every day. But what about our children? When a little heart is afraid, alone, confused, or simply longs to reach out and touch God, where can he or she turn?
My Everyday Promise Bible makes it easy for the youngest child to discover God’s promises in ways that are friendly, fun, and easy to understand.
This unique, new book puts 365 favorite Bible promises—one for each day of the year—in a simple, family-friendly daily devotional format that children and parents are sure to enjoy.
Every page includes: * A Bible promise * Carefully paraphrased, age-appropriate, accurate translation of each Bible verse * A brief devotion to help little hearts apply each promise to their everyday life * Colorful, fun illustrations that reflect the joy of a child’s world
Q: What are your main interests and concerns in writing for children?
A: Although my children are grown, the things I loved most about reading together were those wonderful, precious moments when all the craziness of the day would finally stop—and we could snuggle up and enjoy a special story that touched our hearts. By creating beautiful, meaningful, fun books that children and families will love, I hope to combine that experience—an experience that meant so much to me—with the joy that comes from knowing God’s Word.
Q: How did you start writing and illustrating for children?
I gave my heart to Jesus at the age of twenty-three. I soon realized my previous career as a drug addict and bar-band guitar player would have to go. But what in the world would I do instead?
I’ve always loved newspaper comic strips like Peanuts and Garfield. So I went to work in the production department of our local newspaper. I did editorial and single-panel cartoons for several publications on the side while spending my evenings pursuing the goal of creating a syndicated comic strip. A syndicate editor mentioned he liked a new strip we had in development, but he felt it would make an ever better children’s book. Before that moment, the thought of writing and illustrating for children never entered my mind.
I didn’t give his suggestion a great deal of thought at first. My daughter was only a few years old at the time, and my wife and I were just beginning to introduce her to our favorite childhood picture books like Harry the Dirty Dog, Pat the Bunny, and of course everything by Dr. Seuss. As we read together, I began to notice that, even though it had been almost twenty years since I heard those stories, I remembered virtually every word. One evening as my daughter and I were reading Dr. Seuss, Jesus spoke these simple words into my heart: “What if it was MY WORD you remembered so well?”
And for me, that’s where it all began. I abandoned the idea of a newspaper comic strip. Soon Jesus began to open the doors that allowed me to write and illustrate His Word for children. I walked through those doors many years ago and never looked back.
Q: Who will enjoy My Everyday Promise Bible?
A: Parents, grandparents, teachers, guardians, and friends who want to introduce the children in their lives to God’s love and faithfulness will find My Everyday Promise Bible a welcome resource. It’s the perfect way to help a little heart take his or her first steps toward daily devotions, a wonderful treat for bedtime reading, and it’s just the right size for little hands to carry to church. The 5" x 7" format looks and feels just like mom or dad’s favorite Bible.
Q: What has been the biggest influence on your writing and artwork?
A: I love the letters I receive from children. Many of my youngest “readers” don’t know how to read—or write! But that doesn’t stop them from sending beautiful pictures telling me how much they love Jesus. That’s the thing that keeps me going.
Q: Do you have a favorite quote?
A: My favorite quote has always been, “Beware the satisfaction of sinking back and saying ‘it can’t be done.’ You know it can be done—if you look to Jesus.” from Oswald Chambers.
Q: What message would you like to give to all children?
A: Fall in love with Jesus. He will always be your very best friend.
I just wanted to state clearly here on my blog that the books I review are provided to me in exchange for my opinion and thoughts. I am a member of two blog alliances and I work directly with publicists and publishers at their request to review a variety of Christian fiction and non-fiction books. I receive no compensation other than free copies of the books to read, and when a give away is offered, that copy of the book is also provided by the publisher for that exact purpose.
I give my opinions both positively and negatively and will continue to do so as time permits and as I am able. I do this because I love to read and I love to share my thoughts with others who love good books and Christian stories.
Chris Fabry's work is powerful. Dogwood left a profound impact on me. I've interviewed Chris one other time, and thus after reading June Bug I had yet a few more questions. Please read my initial interview here, and then see what Chris had to share about his latest novel, June Bug. It is apparent that God is using Chris in a mighty way to create powerful pictures of God's grace. I am honored to have had another brief visit with him.
