Safety in the Ashes

I'm sorry to tell you that you won't be able to read the rest of this fantastic book until April, when it will release (barring any glitches). This is the book I'm currently editing at Discovery House, and it's such a thrill to be able to publish something by this first-time author who I'm sure will have much more to say in more books down the road.

What a job! I'm editing something and realize this is some of the best stuff I've read all week. So here's a little preview of the jacket and content of You Are the Treasure That I Seek . . . But There's a Lot of Cool Stuff Out There, Lord by first-time author and now my publishing friend, Greg Dutcher. Enjoy!


Safety in the Ashes

There is a story of a father and son who are walking across rolling fields of dry grass during the brushfire season. As they look off in the distance, their worst fears are realized. A wall of fire is steadily moving toward them, carried on the wind. They try to run with all their might, only to realize that the fire is faster then they are. Coming to a stop, the boy buries his face in his father’s side, awaiting his doom. Just before the fire reaches them, the father surprises his son by reaching into his pocket and pulling out a book of matches. He strikes a match and proceeds to light the entire book on fire; then he tosses the mini inferno behind them. In the fierce wind a new wall of fire has risen behind them. So now a fire blazes behind them, and one rushes toward them. At the last second the father scoops up the son and gently steps backwards, into the charred ashes of the fire he has just lit. When the oncoming wall of fire reaches their spot, it has nothing to fuel itself with in the charred remains of the other fire. They are safe.

The point? If you want to be safe from a fire, you must go to the place where fire has already burned. In Scripture there is only one place where a sinner can find safety from the wrath of God: the cross, a place where God’s wrath has already burned. It was there that Jesus took our place and drank the cup of wrath all idolaters deserve.

Two

This week marks two years since I began my blog. And I said it would never last! Much has happened in the last two years, including romance, travel, and a wedding. To celebrate this momentous occasion, here's a little quiz of two's: titles and phrases with "two" or two-related words in them. Leave your answers in the comments, and we'll see how you do.

1. You could read this: one-humped Wumps, Mr. Gump, and Zeds.

2. When someone is a lot like someone else.

3. Can't you see how happy we would be . . . Picture you upon my knee.

4. It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

5. Short story collection by the author of The House of Seven Gables.

6. It is preferable to have a small but certain advantage than a mere potential of a greater one.

7. The White Rider, Faramir, and the Ents

8. Won't you pack your bags/We'll leave tonight

9. Julia, Silvia, Proteus, and Valentine

10. Urban Cowboy:quick, quick, slow, slow

While we can't see the future, thankfully, the next two years should bring lots of bloggable topics: another driver's license, a high school graduation, a college student . . .

Happy birthday, my blog!

Choose Life, Mr. President

This isn't something I read, but it's definitely one of the most powerful things I've seen all week--and it's been a big week. Take a few moments and consider this.

Labyrinths, Virtues, and Scotch Tape

I have read some gems this week. It's hard to turn the pages of the Institutes without reading something new and powerful. And so far (two weeks into the year), I'm keeping up with the reading schedule. But my favorite passages this week come from some other sources I've been reading. The first is from the novel I've been reading for my book group, The Thirteenth Tale, by Diane Setterfield. As a novelist, Setterfield masterfully uses literary elements like setting and narrator in weaving her suspenseful story. But she's also a wordsmith, creating word pictures beautifully. I actually underlined these lines in my book and wrote "nice!" in the margin. Two of Setterfield's minor characters are the gardener and the housekeeper on the Angelfield Estate. The two work together for most of their adult lives and know each other well; they're dear friends. But the housekeeper is a bit older than the gardener, and since the story spans a number of years, both characters age. The Missus suffers from dementia, and Setterfield describes her state and the gardener's realization of her confusion:

"He [the gardener] continued to sit across the table in the kitchen, sharing his thoughts, his dreams, his worries with her. And when she [the housekeeper] answered--random, rambling drifts of words--he puzzled over her pronouncements, trying to find the connection between her answer and his question. But the labyrinth inside her head was too complex for him to navigate, and the thread that led her from one word to the next had slipped through her fingers in the darkness."

Nice!

My other two favorite pieces this week come from the pen of someone near and dear to me, someone with a sharp wit,a sense of humor, and a command of the language that combine for some entertaining email exchanges. The first has to do with a headline that I read explaining that of the jobs created by our president elect's economic stumulus package, 90 percent would be "created or saved" in the private sector.
Here is the email exchange:

Annette to Henry, subject line "Spin at its best": I have to admire this new "created or saved" angle. Although I'm not sure how you prove that you saved someone's job. But then I guess it doesn't matter . . . because all you have to do is say it, and it's true.

Henry to Annette: Unprovability is a virtue in the land of unlimited promises.

And the second email exchange actually resulted from a book I've been reading, a biography by a widow writing about her deceased husband. At one point the author described the nature of their passionate relationship by saying that their souls were cemented together. You can imagine the fun we've been having with that all week.

Annette to Henry, subject line "Could we?": From now on, do you think we could just scotch tape our souls together rather than cementing them? All the little concrete remnants are such a mess, and I feel a little sore today. But I do love you very much!

Henry to Annette: How picturesque! Annette and Henry shared a bond of love as strong as scotch tape--not the new, fancy kind made from acetate, but the genuine, original kind made from cellulose--which had yellowed significantly over the years, and had begun to curl at the corners, but was on the whole still sticking quite well, except for those areas where the tape had pulled back, leaving a gooey residue that seemed to attract dust."

I really think he needs to submit that one to Bulwer-Lytton, but I haven't convinced him yet.

Yes, It's True . . .

Please be sure that you're sitting down as you read this post. I wouldn't want to be responsible for any head injuries or broken limbs, for what I'm about to reveal here is shocking and certainly earth shattering:

I don't have a Facebook account.

Are you okay? Take some deep breaths. Have a drink of water. Put a cool washcloth on the back of your neck. I'll say it slowly as you adjust to the concept:

I

don't

have

a

Facebook

account.

I can nearly feel the collective gasp of the universe.

At least once a week I must respond to someone who wonders how a woman like myself, living in the twenty-first century, could possibly live, move, and breathe--indeed, connect with the real world without a Facebook account.

So once for all I'm going to set the record straight so that there is an answer, here in the blogosphere, to the question of why I don't have a Facebook. Let me assure you that in my mind these are strictly personal reasons that probably have absolutely nothing to do with you and your life. And that's okay. My reasons are my reasons; they don't have to be yours. There is much of value in having a Facebook, my 17-year-old tells me. And who knows more about socializing than a 17-year-old girl?

So here they are. The reasons Annette Joy Walborn Gysen doesn't have a Facebook:

1. You must be familiar with the parental cliches. There are about 37 of them. They're universals, and every parent uses them. Most of the time, they go right past us, and we don't pay any attention to them. But once in a while, one sticks, and there is no glue solvent strong enough to pull off a stuck cliche. In my case this is the one that stuck: "So if everyone else was jumping off a bridge, would you do it too?" And the answer, of course, is no--absolutely not! And this has become something of a life theme for me in certain areas, so that the more people doing something, the more convinced I am that it's not for me. I think you know where this is headed. If over 30 million people have Facebooks, I'll be the one in 30 million who doesn't have one. There's something satisfying for me about that.

2. Been there, done that. I've done the whole social networking thing already, and I've decided that I personally prefer flesh-and-blood encounters. Before there was a Henry, before most of you who are my age and older even heard of Facebook, I was networking on a Reformed adult singles site. Yes, it was a dating site, but it was also a site where friendships could form, where chatrooms were filled with the conversations of men and women in their early twenties to their seventies, where you could leave a brief message of encouragement, jest, or flirtation. It was fun for awhile, but for me, it was hard to convince myself that these relationships were real, that they could exist anywhere outside of cyberspace. For some people, this works. In fact, there were a number of couples who met and married. But for me, it wasn't really a satisfying means of communication, of socializing.

3. There's something of a generational boundary issue here. Parents and teenagers don't listen to the same music, wear the same clothes, and they don't have the same social hangouts. While I realize that Facebook is no longer only the domain of college students and teens, it started out that way in our family. And one of the things I learned from being a junior high/high school teacher and parent is that there need to be some lines--things they may do that I won't because I've reached a level of maturity that they haven't, some "them and us" dividers. For me, one of those places is Facebook. I don't go there, and I don't expect my teenage daughter to come with me to ladies' Bible study. I'm older; she's younger.

4. I just don't have that interesting of a life. If I were to post my status today, it would look like this:

Annette Gysen is sick of winter, and it's only January (so unique, isn't it?).

Annette Gysen is going to work.

Annette is really excited that Carol brought soup for everyone for lunch today.

Annette Gysen is copyediting right now.

Annette Gysen is still copyediting.

Annette Gysen continues to copyedit.

Annette Gysen is cranking the heat in her car on the way home and enjoying the warmth.

Annette Gysen is warming up leftovers for dinner.

Annette Gysen is having lots of fun sorting laundry and paying bills.

Annette Gysen is blogging about why she doesn't have a Facebook.

Scintillating--isn't it? Why anyone would want to read the details of my life is beyond me. I bore myself sometimes. And--I'm not saying this to be mean--but I really don't care what you're watching on TV, eating for dinner, or thinking about what kind of dog the Obamas should get for their daughters right now. I don't really even care what groups you belong to or who your friends are. In fact, I think we're both better off not knowing these things about each other.

5. In all seriousness--a friend of mine shared with me that many of the members of her church have Facebooks, and this enables them to let each other know when there are prayer concerns, when there's been a death or a birth--important matters of church life. But our pastor is very conscientious about letting us church members know all of these things by email. So if one in the body has a prayer concern that he or she wants to share, we all know about it and are on top of it. So for me, there isn't a need for a Facebook.

6. There are so many reasons, and I could go on for a very long time. And for me, that's the point. There are already other things I should be doing tonight, and here I sit, blogging. What if I had to go answer messages, post pictures, or write my own messages on someone's wall after finishing here? I can only allow myself to waste so much cyber-time.

7. I have to believe there's some money, celebrity status, something about one day being one of the ten people in the world who doesn't have a Facebook. I'm sure there will be a People magazine article, maybe a spot on Dateline, who knows--maybe I'll be able to write a bestseller about how I survived being Facebookless. There's nothing hotter right now than Amish fiction, and probably being Facebookless is akin to that in the twenty-first century. I think I just figured out how I'll make it in my retirement . . .

Great Stuff I Read This Week

Since 2009 is shaping up to be the year of the reading challenge for me, I would feel quite selfish if I didn't share some of the great stuff I've been enjoying. Hence, a new feature is born: Great Stuff I Read This Week. Each week I will attempt to share a brief passage from something I've been reading.

"When [the apostle] Paul wished all prophecy to be made to accord with the analogy of faith [Rom. 12:6], he set forth a very clear rule to test all interpretation of Scripture. Now, if our interpretation be measured by this rule of faith, victory is in our hands. For what is more consonant with faith than to recognize that we are naked of all virtue, in order to be clothed by God? That we are empty of all good, to be filled by him? That we are slaves of sin, to be freed by him? Blind, to be illumined by him? Lame, to be made straight by him? Weak, to be sustained by him? To take away from us all occasion for glorying, that he alone may stand forth gloriously and we glory in him [cf. 1 Cor. 1:31; 2 Cor. 10:17]?"

~From John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, "Prefatory Address to King Francis"

Bush, Rove, and Goals

What is it about the new year that makes us think we need to make some resolutions, establish some goals--improve ourselves in some way? Perhaps it's our hubris, our innate desire to somehow improve ourselves--to think that we can somehow do something good to make ourselves look better. Or perhaps the Calvinists among us realize just how deep our sins and miseries are, and we're looking for some reassurance that there's something of our original state still within us. At any rate, most of us do it--we resolve, or, in my case, set a goal.

It all started for me last week when I was reading a Wall Street Journal piece by Karl Rove, former senior advisor and deputy chief of staff to President Bush. He writes about a three-year-old competition between himself and the president: who can read the most books in a year's time. And even though Rove has beaten the president each year of the competition, President Bush has nothing to be ashamed of. The first year of the contest, the score looked like this: Rove, 110; Bush, 95. The second year was 76 to 51, and this past year--64 to 40.

Rove reports that the president also reads the Bible from cover to cover every year, along with a devotional. (I hear the devotional is My Utmost for His Highest, published by my publishing house, Discovery House.)

And that made me think: If the leader of the free world read 40 books in his worst performance of three years, I ought to be able to set some kind of reading goal for myself. He probably isn't responsible for meal planning and preparation, doing laundry, and cleaning the White House bathrooms, while working a full-time job, but he probably has some other tasks that make getting some reading in a challenge.

Mind you--a reading goal is not a torturous thing for me. I love to read. It's not like I'm committing to eliminating sugar, chocolate, losing ten pounds, or running a marathon. This is a goal that would be an incredible pleasure for me to accomplish. And this is what I've come up with.

I want to read one fiction and one nonfiction title a month. Part of this is circumstance. I've joined a book group (which I'm very excited about) and will have to read at least one book every other month anyway. And believe it or not, I'm less disciplined about reading fiction than nonfiction. And, as in previous years, I plan to read the Bible through--Genesis through Revelation (even Leviticus and Numbers). And the other big goal for the year has to do with an important event: Calvin's 500th birthday. Readers are being challenged to read Calvin's Institutes, following a daily reading schedule. I'm already two days ahead on that one!

So for January, I'm reading The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield for my book group. I've read it once before, but this time I'm reading it to lead a discussion--and it's really a fascinating and intriguing novel. My nonfiction title is also fascinating: Why We're Not Emergent by Kevin DeYoung--a young pastor in Lansing, Michigan, and Ted Kluck, a writer who is a member of DeYoung's congregation. Look for a book review on that one. It's an excellent, well-researched critique of the emergent movement and its leaders like Rob Bell and Brian McLaren.

So what are you reading? Have any suggestions for me? I already have a stack of books I've purchased or been given as gifts that will take me through the first half of the year, but I'd love to hear your suggestions. And maybe if I spend that much time reading, I'll even lose five to ten pounds . . .