If I were the Devil

Paul Harvey, the famous ABC radio commentator broadcast his radio show more than forty years ago over 1200 radio stations across the nation.   He would end every commentary with the words, "This is Paul Harvey.  Good Day."  Do you remember?


On one particular broadcast, April 3, 1965, he made an amazing prediction concerning America.  The name of his commentary was called "If I were the Devil."

When you listen to this clip, remember the commentary was broadcast 48 years ago!  It's short - less than three minutes, but a startling three minutes of exact detail of why America is in the desperate condition it is today.  How sad that many folks do not realize where our once-great country is now heading.  How sad, too, that our grandchildren accept our country as "this is the way it is" and  not know the way it was. Yet, we do not lose hope for we are still one nation under God.  

http://stg.do/9LDc

Rita Kroon

When God Whispers...

This is too beautiful not to share.  Copy and paste  the link in your browser, turn up your volume, sit back, and take it all in.
 http://www.youtube.com/embed/zf_0jzPQ8lo?rel=0

The Procrastinating Little Author

The term deadline can strike dread, even fear, in a writer's soul like April 15th tax deadline may strike dread or fear. Or, a writer may meet the challenge with anticipation - like meeting a close friend for lunch.  Are you motivated or do you procrastinate? 

Do you remember the children's story "The Poky Little Puppy?"  My adult version is called "The Procrastinating Little Author."

There were five little authors who went to a writers' conference - through the traffic and to the airport they traveled.  When they got inside the big, big room, they counted themselves, one, two, three, four.  One little author was not there.  Where in the world is that procrastinating little author, they wondered.

While the four little authors met other writers and

started a network, the procrastinating little author strolled by store windows gazing at all the lovely merchandise.

The four little authors returned to their hotel so happy.  It was like eating rice pudding for dessert.

By the time the procrastinating little author arrived at the conference, everyone had gone.

The next day, the five little authors went to the conference.  When they got inside, they counted themselves, one, two, three, four.  One little author was not there.  Where in the world is that procrastinating little author, they wondered.

While the four little authors with their manuscripts in hand met agents and publishers, the procrastinating little author stared at a beautiful bracelet.  When I get my book published, I will buy that bracelet, she thought.  The four little authors returned to their hotel very pleased.  It was like eating chocolate custard for dessert.

By the time the procrastinating little author arrived at the conference, the lights were turned off.

The next day, the five little authors went to the conference.  When they got inside they counted themselves, one, two, three, four.  One little author was not there.  Where in the world is that procrastinating little author, they wondered.

While the four little authors signed contracts, the procrastinating little author looked for an outfit to wear with the bracelet she would buy.  The four little authors returned to their hotel, delighted.  It was like eating strawberry shortcake for dessert.

By the time the procrastinating little author arrived at the conference, the door was locked, and she had to return to the hotel with nothing in her hand.

 

To some authors, deadlines are a necessary evil.  For others, a deadline can be your worst enemy, but, if you look at it like a favorite friend who has your best interests at heart, you will learn to meet each deadline with anticipation and a smile in order to git R done.

The reward of meeting a deadline is better than rice pudding, greater than chocolate custard and surpasses strawberry shortcake.  It is feeling the satisfaction of getting a job done well.  Or, maybe even a signed contract!

So, what does a deadline mean to you?  A friend or foe? 

Rita Kroon

The Story Behind the Story

I am pleased to introduce my guest blogger, Alton Gansky, as he relates  his "Story Behind the Story."

Writers are often asked, “Where do you get your ideas?” and we do our best to avoid answering. Why? Because there is no one answer. Ideas can come from a newspaper article, a dream, or just out of nowhere—like Odd Thomas. 

The recent release (re-release) of my first novel has me recalling earlier days—days before I committed to writing a novel. BY MY HANDS came to be about 20 years ago and the idea for it popped up from nowhere. Well, not nowhere, but somewhere. I can remember the moment the nugget of the idea came to me—and it’s a little embarrassing.

I was a young pastor, serving in my first church in San Diego. I wish I could tell you I had it all figured out, but I can’t. I stumbled through the first years of ministry, learning from oversights, mistakes, and blunders. The first years of ministry are more educational for the pastor than for the congregation. I learned a lot about myself. More than I wanted to know.

This came home when I received a call. A young child of one of my parishioners had fallen out of a moving car. The girl was about four years old. You can guess the kind of images that came to mind: gruesome, frightening, and heartbreaking. The caller had no other information other than the youngster was at Children’s Hospital. It’s a world-class facility but even world-class hospitals can’t do miracles.

I drove to Children’s Hospital, my gut wadded into a tight, hard ball. I parked and ran into the facility. It was my first time there. I had never been in a children’s hospital. Never. The halls were shiny and smells of disinfectant, medications, and other things I didn’t want to know about hung in the air. Many of the doorways into patient rooms and wards were open and I glanced in some as I passed. One was a playroom where a dozen children played quietly together. All of them were bald.

A few steps later I noticed something different about myself. I was no longer glancing in the rooms. I was looking at the shiny floor and nothing else. Shame washed over me. I plowed on until I made it to the room with my parishioners inside. I stiffened my spine and entered.

Good news. The child who had fallen from the moving car had only a couple of scrapes and a bruise or two. It turns out the car was moving very slowly when the tyke figured out how to open the door. This being the days before mandatory car seats, she managed to exit the vehicle. A frightening event for everyone, but one that ended well. She went home later that day—the bald children in the playroom did not.

I was relieved, a little wrung out, and very angry with myself. I had been shown my own cowardice, my reluctance to look on the pain of others. Better to avert my eyes than see reality, I thought. By the time I exited the hospital, I was thoroughly disgusted with myself. I wished I could do something for the kids imprisoned by their disease. I wished for the power of healing.

I have very little patience with modern faith healers. I believe God works miracles, but I have serious doubt that He does it through people in expensive suits cavorting around a stage in front of television cameras.

“If I had the gift of healing, this hospital would be my first stop.”

BAM. 

There was the idea. I began to wonder what it would look like if someone truly had the gift of healing began healing people in a major hospital. This led to a string of questions and some deep theology.

Elements of the story presented themselves one after another. What if the healer worked secretly? Instead of calling attention to himself, what if he snuck in, healed someone, then snuck out in the same manner in which he came? Why would he do that? Who would he heal? What would happen to the hospital when word got out? What would doctors do if forced to face a true miracle? What would happen if the healed suddenly disappeared under violent circumstances?

By the time I reached home, the seed of an idea had grown roots. Years later, By My Hands would find a publisher. Now, 20 years later it’s back—it’s new all over again.

Watch for his January release of 30 Events that Changed the Church!

 

Alton Gansky is the author of over 40 books, novels and nonfiction. He is also the director of Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference and the host of Writer’s Talk and co-host of Firsts in Fiction with Aaron Gansky. His latest book, 30 Events That Shaped the Church releases in mid-January 2015.

Other books by Alton Gansky.