The Ride of Her Life

May 30th, 2012

The Ride of Her Life

By Lorna Seilstad

 

Lorna Seilstad creates an entertaining story filled with delightful characters and romance set at the Lake Manawa summer resort in 1906. Feisty heroine Lilly Hart’s exploits will make you laugh out loud and sigh contentedly as she navigates the summer’s adventures.

The only man pragmatic Lilly Hart needs in her life is a six year old. Widowed two years ago, Lilly leaves the shelter of her intrusive in-laws’ home to stand on her own and provide for her young son by working for the summer as a cook at Lake Manawa. However, her in-laws find that life utterly unsuitable for their grandson, and when a row ensues, a handsome stranger–who designs roller coasters, of all things–intercedes on her behalf. Still, Lilly is not about to get involved with any man, especially this cocky (though charismatic) gentleman. Little does she know she is about to begin the ride of her life.

ISLAND BREEZES

I enjoyed following Lily into a book of her own. Life certainly had some changes for her and that’s going to continue’

She takes her son and leaves the shelter of her snooty in-laws.

She’s courageous enough to do all kinds of things except let another man into her heart and to ride a roller coaster.

She faces many battles over her son with the in-laws , and doesn’t always win towards the end of this book. Before you finish this book, it will have you on edge with both Lily’s stubbornness and all the action.

I certainly hope this isn’t the last of the Lake Manawa Summers series.

***A special thank you to Donna Hausler who provided a review copy.***

A history buff, antique collector, and freelance graphic designer, Lorna Seilstad is the author of Making Waves and A Great Catch. She draws her setting from her home state of Iowa. A former high school English and journalism teacher, she has won several online writing awards and is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers.

Available May 2012 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

The Anniversary Waltz

May 29th, 2012

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!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

 

Darrel Nelson

 

and the book:

 

The Anniversary Waltz
Realms (May 15, 2012)

***Special thanks to Althea Thompson | Publicity Coordinator, Charisma House | Charisma Media for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Darrel Nelson is a graduate of the University of Lethbridge in Alberta, Canada, with bachelor’s degrees in English and education. He is a schoolteacher by profession, with thirty-three years of teaching experience, and currently teaches fourth grade at Raymond Elementary School. Nelson has had an article published in Lethbridge Magazine and has written several dramatic plays, two of which won provincial recognition and were showcased at a drama festival. He won the CJOC radio songwriting contest two years running and has had one song receive international airplay. Writing has always been a passion, and over the years he has written four novels intended for the juvenile market. They are unpublished as yet, but he reads them annually to his fourth-grade students. The Anniversary Waltz is his first novel intended for the adult market. Hometown: Raymond, Alberta, Canada

Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:


It’s the summer of 1946, and Adam Carlson has just returned from the war to his home in Reunion, Montana. Despite the strained relationship with his father, Adam sets out to revive the dilapidated family farm, neglected since his departure overseas four years ago. After some convincing to take a rest from his labors, he attends the town festival, where he meets Elizabeth Baxter, a young woman going steady with his former high school rival and now influential banker, Nathan Roberts.

 


 

Product Details:

List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 304 pages

Publisher: Realms (May 15, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1616387157

ISBN-13: 978-1616387150

ISLAND BREEZES

Don’t even start this book without without having a box of tissues near by.

My heart is too full right now to be able to say much.  This is the most beautiful love story I think I’ve ever read.

Mr. Nelson knows a woman’s heart.  I hope read many more novels by this author.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

July 1946
Adam Carlson shifted in his seat on the Greyhound bus and stared wearily out the window. He couldn’t remember being this tired, not even during the heaviest part of the
fighting in Italy. But he was too excited to close his eyes now. He had finally received his discharge and was almost home. The return voyage across the Atlantic by army transport ship made him seasick, and the four-day journey across the country by train seemed to last forever. But that was all behind him, compartmen- talized in his memory along with a thousand other images he would just as soon forget. All that remained was the thirty-mile bus ride north from Great Falls.
Running a hand through his wavy, brown hair, he studied the landscape he hadn’t seen in four years—except in his dreams. And he had dreamed about his hometown of Reunion, Montana, a great deal, especially while lying under the stars at night and smelling the earthy aroma of freshly dug foxholes. Those were the times he wondered if he would ever see the Great Plains again or feel the wind on his face. He ached to see the Rocky Mountains and gaze at the foothills as they merged with the plains and stretched eastward into infinity. This was the country he loved, the country for which he had fought. Big Sky Country—a corner of heaven.
He noticed a hawk in the distance, riding the invisible current on graceful wings, circling above a stand of cottonwood trees. At that moment, he decided, it had been worth it—all of it.
Even though he had enlisted against his father’s wishes.
As the son of Hector Carlson, dry land farmer, Adam hadn’t needed to enlist. But he wanted to satisfy his sense of adven- ture. He wanted to see the world outside the farm’s boundaries, to answer the call of plain, old-fashioned patriotism. Remember Pearl Harbor! Laborers could be hired to bring in the harvest, he’d told his father, but who was going to go overseas and fight for a cause greater than one family’s run of bad luck?
Hector hadn’t accepted this reasoning, however. He tried to talk Adam into staying and helping run the farm. When his efforts proved futile, he gave up talking to his son at all. He didn’t come to see Adam off, nor did he write once in the four years Adam was away, not even a quick note scribbled at the bottom of the regular letters Adam received from his mother, Maude.
Adam shook the memory away and felt his heart rate quicken as the bus made the last turn leading into Reunion. The anticipa- tion of meeting his parents made him feel strangely nervous. It was dreamlike, as unreal as the world he had just left.
His thoughts went to those who would not be returning. Sixteen of his friends and comrades had fallen in Europe and were now permanent occupants. They would be forever denied the thrill of a homecoming and the anticipation of getting on with their lives. They would never see the mountains again or watch the maturing fields of wheat sway in the wind like a planted ocean. In their memory he closed his eyes, fighting his emotions as the Greyhound turned onto Main Street and headed for the bus stop in front of the Reunion Mercantile.
Several people were waiting on the sidewalk, anxiously craning to see inside the bus. A face appeared in the barbershop window next door to the Mercantile, peering out to study the scene. Two doors down a woman clutching several garments paused before entering Yang’s Dry Cleaners and glanced toward the bus stop. In a small rural community like Reunion, where grain prices and the weather were the main topics of conversation, the arrival of the Greyhound attracted attention.
Inside the bus the driver announced, “Reunion. Please remember to take all your personal belongings. I’ll set your lug- gage on the curb.” He opened the door, and those who were get- ting off made their way forward.
Adam remained in his seat, looking out the window. He watched as each person emerged and was immediately engulfed by waiting arms. It was heartwarming to see people embrace, cry, and laugh all at the same time. He wondered if his father would be this demonstrative, but he already knew the answer to that.
The bus driver reappeared in the doorway a few minutes later. “Isn’t this your stop, soldier?” He smiled sympathetically. “Sometimes it’s as hard coming home as it is leaving, isn’t it?”
Adam nodded and eased his six-foot frame out of the seat. He put on his service cap and adjusted his uniform before making his way up the aisle.
“Good luck,” the driver said, patting him on the shoulder. Adam stood in the door of the bus for a moment, watching
the happy scene. A woman in a blue cotton dress made her way through the crowd. It took Adam a moment to recognize his mother. She had aged during the past four years and looked so frail that he wondered how she got through the crowd without being snapped like a dry twig.
“Adam . . . Adam!” she called, her voice filled with so much emotion she could hardly speak. Tears formed in her eyes and ran down her cheeks as Adam quickly descended the bus steps. She took him in her arms and embraced him with surprising strength. “Oh, my son, God has answered my prayers and brought you back to me.”
Adam held her for a long time, his eyes closed, his lips quiv- ering. Maude silently wept on his shoulder and rubbed the tears with the back of her thin hand. Finally she held him at arm’s length as if unable to believe her eyes. Adam smiled reassuringly and gazed out over the crowd.
“He didn’t come,” she said, in answer to his unspoken question. Adam looked into his mother’s face. “But at least you came.” She reached up and stroked his cheek, her hand trembling.
“Of course I came. Wild horses couldn’t—” She changed the topic abruptly, likely realizing it would only serve to emphasize her husband’s absence if she didn’t. “Where’s your luggage?” she asked. “Let’s get you home so you can rest. You look exhausted.” So do you, he wanted to say, but he just smiled at her. It was obvious that the intervening years had taken their toll on her too. Adam led her toward the passengers who were sorting through the luggage, which was now sitting on the curb. He had no dif- ficulty identifying his two suitcases. They bore little resemblance to the ones he’d purchased four years earlier at the Mercantile. They were now held together by rope and packaging tape, and both of them showed evidence of journeys they’d taken aboard buses, trains, ships, army trucks, jeeps, and, on one occasion, an Italian farmer’s hay cart.
Maude had no difficulty identifying her son’s luggage either. As she reached for one of the suitcases, Adam quickly intercepted her. “I’ve got them, Mom,” he said, picking up the suitcases and adjusting his grip on the sweat-stained leather handles.
“The truck’s parked in front of the dry cleaners,” Maude said, taking hold of his arm and leading him through the crowd.
Adam nodded to the bus driver, who gave him a thumbs-up gesture, and followed his mother down the sidewalk, answering her questions and asking a few of his own. He realized the words of greeting he practiced on the bus were unnecessary. He hoped it would be the same when he finally met his father. But somehow he doubted it.
As the farm came into view, Adam drew in a deep breath. The surrounding fields of wheat and barley, a vibrant green beneath
a robin’s egg sky, were a pastoral setting of majesty and peace- fulness. But in many ways, returning home was like riding into enemy territory. Several times during the war, he had run into an ambush and barely escaped with his life, using every skill possible to survive. Today he felt like there was no refuge. He could only proceed directly into the line of fire and hope for the best.
His mind raced wildly as the pickup truck rattled through the gate and stopped in front of the house. He reached for the door handle but hesitated, taking everything in one more time in case it suddenly vanished . . . like a dream upon awakening.
The farmyard had changed. The two-story, clapboard house looked tired and faded, and several shutters hung at odd angles. The veranda tilted slightly to the south, and the railing was missing several spindles. The pump out in the yard had only a stub of a handle, and the clothesline beside it sagged noticeably. The woodshed and the barn were badly weathered, and the poplar tree near the garden now held only remnants of the tree house that he and his father had built years earlier.
Perhaps the farmyard had always looked like this and he hadn’t noticed. But a fresh coat of paint would do wonders to hide the wrinkles and blemishes, and he resolved to paint every building before winter. He would shore up the clothesline, repair the front step, fix the shutters, replace the handle on the pump . . .
A burst of energy surged through him. He would make it up to his father by getting the farm back in shape. It would be like he had never left. He would show his father that he did care.
Maude put her hand on his. “Before we go in, there’s some- thing I want to say. Despite your father not coming to meet you today, he does love you.”
Exhaling slowly, Adam turned toward her. “He has a funny way of showing it.”
“He has a hard time expressing his feelings sometimes, that’s all.” “He didn’t write once in four years.”
Maude stared out of the truck window, focusing on nothing in particular. She seemed to be searching for the right words. “I can’t say I agree with how he’s handled things, son. And I’m not trying to make excuses for him. But it’s been hard on him too. I just wanted you to know that.” She patted Adam’s hand. “I just hope the two of you can let bygones be bygones.”
Adam leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek. “You’re a good woman, Maude Carlson.”
She smiled in appreciation, but her smile faded as the barn door opened and her husband stepped out into the sunlight. She glanced over at her son, who squared his shoulders and pulled on the door handle.
Adam was struck by how much his father had aged. His hair was much thinner, and his sun-hardened, wrinkled skin was stretched like tanned hide on a pole frame. His complexion resembled buckskin, rough side out, and his leanness added a sharp edge to his features. A permanent scowl creased his fore- head, and his mouth sagged at the corners.
Hector remained motionless, as though he was a gargoyle guarding the farmyard. His expression looked equally sullen and fierce, and Adam slowly approached him. Staring down the enemy in the fields and streets of Italy had not been this hard.
Maude hurried toward her husband. “Hec, it’s our boy! Adam’s home!”
Adam studied his father’s face, looking for any sign of wel- come . . . or forgiveness. But Hector’s granite-like countenance remained unchanged. Adam stopped several paces away and stood before his father like a disobedient child.
Hector met his son’s eyes momentarily, and then his gaze wan- dered over Adam’s uniform. The silence deepened and Adam felt the tension increase.
Maude narrowed her eyes. “Well, Hec, say something.”
Hector scratched his stubbled chin and cleared his throat. “They treat you okay?”
What a strange question, Adam thought. Was his father refer- ring to the army or the enemy? In all honesty, neither of them had treated him well. The army had removed four years of his life with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, and the Germans had been far less subtle than that. They had tried to kill him.
Adam felt numb as the memories of the past four years flooded his heart, a trickle at first and then a gush. The experience had been more overwhelming than he ever expected. And with one question his father had reduced it to insignificance.
“You know I don’t agree with what you did,” Hector said. “But
I’m glad you didn’t go and get yourself killed.” Adam forced a smiled. “I’m glad I didn’t either.”
Maude looked anxiously from one to the other. “Hec, this calls for a feast of the fatted calf. Get some beet greens from the garden, and I’ll cook a roast with all the trimmings.”
Hector remained motionless.
She shooed him away from the barn. “You go on, now.” Embracing Adam, she said, “Go have a bath and get some rest, son. I’ll call you for dinner. There’s so much to talk about.”
Adam glanced at the retreating figure of his father and returned to the truck to get his luggage, aware that his mother was reverting to her proven formula for restoring peace on earth, good will toward men: a delicious meal. In the past, good food had settled more arguments in the family than had any line of reasoning, logic, or argument. The way to a man’s heart . . .

We Salute Them

May 28th, 2012

They died so that we might live in freedom.

Good News

May 27th, 2012

“Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation.

The one who believes and is baptized will be daved; but the one who does not believe will be condemned.”

Mark 16: 15, 16

I Didn’t Sign Up for This!

May 22nd, 2012

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!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

 

Aaron Sharp

 

and the book:

 

I Didn’t Sign Up for This!:
Navigating Life’s Detours
Discovery House Publishers (April 1, 2012)

***Special thanks to
Susan Otis, Creative Resources for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Aaron Sharp lives in Little Elm, Texas, with his wife, Elaina, and their son, Micah. He is a Master of Theology graduate of Dallas Theological Seminary, and is currently employed in the Information Technology department of the ministry Insight for Living.

I Didn’t Sign Up for Thisis Aaron’s first book. Previously his writing has been seen in The Odessa American newspaper and the magazines Learning Through History, Discipleship Journal, Leben, Marriage Partnership, In Touch Magazine, and multiple issues of The Lookout Magazine.
Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Without the least bit of notice, life can take a sudden turn down a road we never anticipated or never would have chosen to travel. I Didn’t Sign Up for This! Navigating Life Detours offers insights from the life and times of the prophet Elijah to encourage readers who have suddenly veered off the road into a wilderness experience. It provides guidelines and tools to help readers align their expectations with God’s plan, fuel their lives with faith to overcome their fears, and find their way home. It offers fresh perspective on the need for God’s direction throughout life’s journey.

 

Product Details:

List Price: $10.99

Paperback: 224 pages

Publisher: Discovery House Publishers (April 1, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1572935138

ISBN-13: 978-1572935136

ISLAND BREEZES

Life just doesn’t go as planned.  There’s too many detours.  But it’s not only us.  The Bible is full of life’s detours.

Mr. Sharp uses the story of Elijah and his detour as illustration.  Sometimes a person just needs to get back to basics and retrace his steps.

Mr Sharp explains three ways to retrace our steps.  This is good, because we often just can’t figure out how we got to a place.  If I don’t know how I got here, how can I retrace my steps?

My life has certainly been full of detours.  Now I know how to properly deal with them.  I also found the questions at the end of each chapter to be very helpful.

 
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

The Story of Elijah

Late Ninth Century B.C.

Mount Carmel, Israel

Three groups of people made their way up the mountain.

In the first group were thousands of regular, everyday people.

They were making the short trek, ready to see one of the ancient

world’s greatest pieces of theater—a showdown between rival

prophets. Many of them were trying to decide exactly what to

believe and just who to worship. These people were not royalty,

nor were they priests. They were shepherds, farmers, and fishermen.

If nothing else, these Israelites anticipated a good show.

Interspersed within the first group was another group, this

one numbering 450 strong. The colorfully adorned men in this

second group were prophets of the Canaanite fertility god Baal.

Worship of Baal, who was typically pictured as a bull, had been

practiced in this area long before the Israelites had conquered the

Promised Land. Now with the worship of the one true God at

an all-time low in Israel, these priests had done much to lead the

Israelites astray.

Worship of this pagan god revolved around fulfilling the

desires of the worshipper. The ultimate act of worship was when

the worshippers worked themselves into a frenzy of passion, with

didn’tsignup_2nd.indd 9 2/1/12 11:33 AM

10 / AARON SHARP

the prophets and priests functioning as sacred prostitutes. Worshipping

Baal meant excitement, thrill, and feeding one’s own

appetites and desires.

The third group of people was not really a group at all. It was

one single, solitary man. As was his custom, the man wore a hairy

garment and a leather belt. He was not only the underdog in that

day’s contest, he was also the reason for the gathering. Every step

that his sandals took crackled on parched ground. And every

crackle reminded him and everyone else that he was the one who

had caused all of this trouble. He had prophesied that it would

not rain in the land of Israel until he said that it would. Then

God commanded him to leave the land of Israel. Now, three

years later, he had returned, and the dry and barren mountain

was testament to the authenticity of his prophecy.

The prophet Elijah made his way up the formerly beautiful

Mount Carmel to take on the prophets of Baal, one versus four

hundred fifty. So much had changed during the three years that

Elijah had been gone. King Ahab and Queen Jezebel had murdered

God’s prophets, and the drought had brought on a severe

famine that was felt heavily in Ahab’s capital city of Samaria.

When the prophet had reappeared, King Ahab had called him

the “Troubler of Israel.” Elijah challenged Ahab to gather the

nation and the priests of Baal to meet him on Mount Carmel.

The meeting would show, once and for all, that God was allpowerful

and that Baal was an empty shell of a dead and uncaring

idol.

Once Elijah, the king, the prophets of Baal, and the assembled

crowd had settled in on a plain just below the mountain’s

peak, Elijah began to speak. The prophet’s voice bellowed across

the natural amphitheater created by the mountain’s features as he

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The Story of Elijah / 11

challenged the people of Israel to choose whom to follow, Baal

or the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He directed that two

oxen be brought and that the 450 prophets of Baal be given their

choice of cattle to sacrifice. Each would prepare their own ox for

sacrifice. Then whichever deity sent fire from heaven to consume

the sacrifice would be the one true God.

The prophets of Baal went first. A careful observer of the

priests slaughtering the bull and placing it upon the altar would

realize that they already had a major problem. They worshipped

a god of fertility, the one responsible for thunder, rain, and agriculture.

Yet the priests were performing their sacrifice after three

years of drought and famine. In fact, the very mountain on which

they now stood had been a national symbol of vibrant beauty

(Song of Solomon 7:5; see also Isaiah 35:2), but now, after three

years without rain, it was an icon of futility. The prophets performed

their rituals with much music, dancing, and gyrations,

but the entire morning passed without any word from Baal, or so

much as a spark from heaven.

By noontime, with the act of Baal’s prophets growing tiresome

for the assembled crowd, the lone prophet of Yahweh

became more and more openly adversarial. Despite the fact that

this large contingent of colorfully adorned priests had continuously

chanted, “O Baal, answer us” for several hours, they had

seen no evidence of their deity. Elijah heckled them, saying, “Call

out with a loud voice, for he is a god; either he is occupied or

gone aside, or is on a journey, or perhaps he is asleep and needs

to be awakened.” Elijah had the audacity to suggest that Baal was

asleep, or possibly even away on a trip. No doubt this taunting of

the prophet’s theological nemesis both shocked and delighted the

crowd that was by this point bored.

didn’tsignup_2nd.indd 11 2/1/12 11:33 AM

12 / AARON SHARP

The priests of Baal responded to the eccentric prophet’s ridicule

by taking their worship to extreme measures. Since their

deity was not responding to their chants and calls for actions, the

prophets now began to slash and cut themselves. Cries rang out

and blood gushed over their vividly colored outfits as the prophets

grew more and more desperate for Baal to act. This disturbing

behavior continued until the middle of the afternoon when Elijah

finally had had enough.

Against a backdrop of his opponents’ pitiful cries for action,

bloody and beaten by their own desperate hands, Elijah called

the people to gather around. He took the time to choose twelve

stones and to construct an altar, which he promptly surrounded

with a trench. After the painstaking process of constructing his

altar and digging the trench, Elijah killed the ox. After the animal

had breathed its last, he cut the ox into pieces and laid the

bloody pieces on the altar to be sacrificed. Then, in a move that

shocked the crowd as much as his earlier taunting, Elijah commanded

that twelve pitchers of water be poured on top of the

ox and the altar. After a three-year drought, the spectators must

have gasped when so much water was used that it even filled up

the trench.

Then Elijah prayed. Though his prayer was relatively short, it

must have felt like he prayed for an eternity. There was no delay

in what happened next. Unlike Baal, whose priests had sought his

help for hours, Elijah’s God saw no reason to delay.

Fire exploded from heaven and streaked across the evening

sky. The fire blazed closer and closer until it impacted Elijah’s

makeshift altar as if God had punched the earth with a fiery fist.

The fire completely consumed the ox, the water, and even the

stones. Where once had stood an altar, was now just a smolder.

didn’tsignup_2nd.indd 12 2/1/12 11:33 AM

The Story of Elijah / 13

The solitary man in the hairy garment wasted no time in

completing the triumph. Elijah turned from the smoking ashes

that proclaimed his God’s victory and commanded the people to

seize the bloody and defeated prophets of Baal. He then meted

out the punishment God had decreed for false prophets—all 450

prophets were slain. There was no trial. They were all guilty and

they paid the price.

As an encore, Elijah told King Ahab, the most prominent

worshipper of Baal, to take his chariot down the mountain

because it was about to rain, for the first time in a very long time.

A great rain did come, but not before the prophet outran Ahab’s

chariot down the mountain.

Few human beings in history have ever had a better day than

Elijah did on Mount Carmel. Words such as legendary, historic,

and awesome only begin to tell the story of the showdown on

Mount Carmel. Had newspapers existed at the time, editors

would have had strokes trying to come up with a headline that

would do it justice. With apologies to a young shepherd boy who

one day slew a giant and eventually became king, the feat brought

about by Elijah was only rivaled in Israelite history by Moses’

parting of the Red Sea. Years later young Jewish boys would urge

their fathers, “Tell me about the day with Elijah on the mountain

again!”

But the prophet’s great day quickly turned into a very dark

night. In a stunning turn of events, fire from heaven became a

distant memory for the prophet almost before the embers of that

blaze had grown cold.

didn’tsignup_2nd.indd 13 2/1/12 11:33 AM

15

Introduc tion

A few years ago my girlfriend (now wife) and I spent a Fourth

of July weekend with her family at their lake house on Eagle

Mountain Lake. We had not been dating long, and it was my

first time to visit them at the lake. Much of the weekend was

spent on WaveRunners, objects almost as unfamiliar to me as the

members of my wife’s family. We were out on the WaveRunners

one morning when I was told to take the WaveRunner I was on

and follow someone else, also on a WaveRunner, to a dock across

the lake.

At the time I was more than a little distracted talking to my

girlfriend, and so I did not pay close attention to the person I was

supposed to follow, or even where my destination was. After a

minute or so I took off across the lake, chasing the person to the

dock. I could see him in the distance, and so I followed, and followed,

and followed, until finally, after having crossed the width

of the lake, I arrived at a marina and realized, much too late, that

I had followed the wrong person.

I was now alone on an unexpected detour on a lake as unfamiliar

to me as the Sea of Galilee. Actually, I might have known

the Sea of Galilee better, because I had at least seen pictures of

it in the back of my Bible. I did not know even the basic shape

of Eagle Mountain Lake. I had no cell phone, and I had not

didn’tsignup_2nd.indd 15 2/1/12 11:33 AM

16 / AARON SHARP

memorized my girlfriend’s phone number on the off chance I

could find a phone.

Despite the predicament in which I found myself, I thought

that I could find my way home. I remembered that I could see

the lights of a baseball field from their back porch. Surely I could

finda baseball field along the shore somewhere. Once I found

that, it would be a breeze to navigate the rest of the way. Besides,

this was Texas—how big could the lake be, anyway?

Minutes turned into hours. I traversed the lake trying to find

my way back with little success. At one point I ran out of gas and

had to dock my vessel at the home of a nice couple who helped

me as much as they could. I did not know what city my girlfriend’s

family house was in, as several bordered the lake, so they

gave me a full tank of gas and I headed back out onto the lake.

The hot July Texas sun had turned my usually pale skin into a

shade of tomato red. My sunburn hurt, I was exhausted, I was

embarrassed, I was frustrated, and with the sun slowly beginning

to descend, I had no idea where I was or what lay in front of me.

Eventually, however, I found my way home. They had sent a

search party out for me, but I managed to find my way back on

my own, saving a tiny (very, very tiny) sliver of self-respect. To

this day, her family still talks about my afternoon on the lake,

and I laugh about it now, telling everyone that I know the lake

better than all of them put together. But, if I am honest, that is

not the only time in my life that I have been on a detour. The

other times did not involve lakes, WaveRunners, or sunburn, but

the change in my course was just as unexpected, just as fearful,

and just as frustrating.

There was the time that I got the call from my parents telling

me that my mother had cancer. There was the year after coldidn’tsignup_

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Introduc tion / 17

lege when I struggled to discern God’s will for my future. There

was the time in seminary when I hurt my knee, requiring a surgery

that took all of my savings for school and then some. There

was the huge conflict in my extended family that may never be

resolved, my graduation from seminary with no job prospects,

my wife’s miscarriage, andthe unexpected loss of a close friend.

There was my layoff, then my wife’s, and then mine again.

All of these circumstances left me feeling much the same as

I did that day on the lake. At least with my aquatic adventure I

can look back on it and laugh, but I cannot say that about all

the other detours. Nor can I explain why these difficult times

occurred, or what God was doing in my life through them. Some

of them are, at least this side of heaven, unexplainable. I could

make up a reason for their happening, but I do not truly know.

If we are honest with ourselves, we have to admit that we all

end up on these unexpected detours from time to time. Maybe

it is bad news from the doctor, a pink slip, an argument, or any

number of things, but we can easily find ourselves in situations

where we feel like I did that day on the lake. Often we begin to

question ourselves, God, and life itself when our planned course

changes direction. We wonder why our problems seem to get bigger

by the minute and worry about how long it will be before we

can find our way home.

Fortunately for us, the characters of the Bible are no strangers

to detours. Job’s detour—the sudden loss of his children, possessions,

and health—was quite possibly unlike any before or since.

Abraham’s detour of being unable to produce children left him

feeling so out of sorts that he slept with his wife’s servant in an

attempt to accomplish God’s will on his own. Joseph went from

being his father’s favorite child to a slave, sold into slavery by his

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18 / AARON SHARP

brothers, and then to a falsely accused prisoner. David experienced

detours that left him so exacerbated that he exclaimed:

How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?

How long will You hide Your face from me?

How long shall I take counsel in my soul,

Having sorrow in my heart all the day?

How long will my enemy be exalted over me?

(Psalm 13:1–2)

The list of detoured lives that grace the pages of Scripture

could go on and on. It includes men and women, Jew and Gentile,

old and young. This is important for us to note because often

when we are in the midst of a detour we feel like we are the only

one who has experienced anything like the heavy fog in which

we are living. If you are not careful, you can conclude that you

must be the only person who has ever felt like life is closing in

on you and nothing is going right. The question of the prophet

Habakkuk, “How long, O Lord, will I call for help, and You will

not hear?” (1:2), will be on your lips, and it is important to know

that you are not the first person to have thought those thoughts

and said those words.

Perhaps no biblical figure has taken a more disappointing

detour than the prophet Elijah. Elijah bursts onto the stage of

biblical literature from out of nowhere. After the death of Solomon,

the nation of Israel split into two kingdoms, with the

northern nation of ten tribes going by the name of Israel and the

southern two tribes, Benjamin and Judah, going by the name of

Judah. As you read about these events in the book of 1 Kings, you

see a pattern develop in Israel. The kings “did evil in the sight

of the Lord,” and they got progressively worse. By the time you

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Introduc tion / 19

read about King Omri, who “did evil in the sight of the Lord,

and acted more wickedly than all who were before him” (1 Kings

16:25), you are convinced that this nation must have hit rock

bottom. Then you read about Omri’s son, Ahab:

Now Ahab the son of Omri became king over Israel in the

thirty-eighth year of Asa king of Judah, and Ahab the son

of Omri reigned over Israel in Samaria twenty-two years.

Ahab the son of Omri did evil in the sight of the Lord more

than all who were before him. It came about, as though

it had been a trivial thing for him to walk in the sins of

Jeroboam the son of Nebat, that he married Jezebel the

daughter of Ethbaal king of the Sidonians, and went to serve

Baal and worshiped him. So he erected an altar for Baal

in the house of Baal which he built in Samaria. Ahab also

made the Asherah. Thus Ahab did more to provoke the Lord

God of Israel than all the kings of Israel who were before

him. (1 Kings 16:29–33)

Chapter 16 of 1 Kings ends with a summary of the depravity

of King Ahab and his queen, Jezebel. Between the two of them,

they were the most wicked monarchy in Israel. They openly

defied God and His laws for the nation.

Chapter 17 then begins with an unexpected contrast: “Now

Elijah the Tishbite, who was of the settlers of Gilead, said to

Ahab, ‘As the Lord, the God of Israel lives, before whom I stand,

surely there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by

my word’” (1 Kings 17:1). From out of nowhere, in the midst of

deep wickedness, Elijah storms into the story proclaiming that

there will be no rain for three years. His appearance is sudden.

We had no evidence that anyone was willing to stand for God,

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20 / AARON SHARP

much less openly oppose the most wicked of kings, but that is

exactly what Elijah does.

Elijah follows up this prophecy by obeying God’s directions

to live near a stream, with ravens bringing him bread and meat to

eat each morning and evening. After this he travels to the town

of Zarephath where he works miracles, including the raising of a

widow’s son from the dead. Then, when the drought is in its third

year, God instructs Elijah to go back to Israel and confront King

Ahab. Elijah obeys God and what results is a famous confrontation

between Elijah and 450 prophets of the false god Baal. By

the end of the confrontation, Elijah has called down fire from

heaven, the 450 prophets of Baal have been executed, Elijah has

outraced Ahab’s chariot down the mountain, and the storms are

rolling in.

One would expect after such powerful acts that Elijah’s

encore would be out of this world. Yet, in the words of A. W.

Pink, “In passing from 1 Kings 18 to 1 Kings 19 we meet with a

sudden and strange transition. It is as though the sun was shining

brilliantly out of a clear sky and the next moment, without any

warning, black clouds drape the heavens and crashes of thunder

shake the earth. The contrasts presented by these chapters are

sharp and startling.”1

Chapter 18 is a tremendous victory. The sun is shining, birds

are singing, and God has shown himself to be powerful and

mighty. It looks as though Elijah, through God’s power, can do

anything. Chapter 19 is a hasty retreat. Storm clouds litter the

sky, and suddenly God seems to have disappeared. It looks as

though Elijah, God’s formerly powerful servant, is weak and vulnerable.

It is in the black clouds that drape the heavens, the story

of Elijah’s detour in 1 Kings 19, that this book resides.

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Introduc tion / 21

It is important to understand that this book is not a howto

manual. It is not “Seven Steps to Finding Your Way Home.”

As anyone who has been on one of life’s detours will tell you,

formulas do not always work. Our culture is fascinated with formulas

and programs, but God doesn’t work that way. His Bible

isn’t filled with steps to follow to solve every problem, and this

incident in Elijah’s life is not a road map for getting to your destination.

I cannot guarantee that by reading his story, things in

your life will get better. Instead picture Elijah, and his troubles,

as a friendly couple at the lake giving someone in the midst of an

unexpected detour an extra tank of gas—and sometimes a tank

of gas is all you need to find your way home.

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23

ONE

Detours

and Unmet

Expectations

I was in my third year of seminary when I met the woman of

my dreams. I still remember what she was wearing the first

day we met. We did not even speak that day when we both sat

at the same cafeteria table with a group of mutual friends, but I

was determined to find out more about her. Over the next few

months I slowly got to know this beautiful lady, taking careful

mental notes of what kind of a person she was, how she acted,

andwhat she liked. The more I got to know her, the more I found

to like. Thankfully, she did not seem repulsed by my presence,

so I finally decided the time had come to ask her out on a date.

Despite accidentally hitting her in the face with a door earlier in

the evening, her answer was yes!

My friends were sure that this was a match made in heaven.

She seemed to enjoy my presence, we flirted constantly, and we

had much in common. All signs pointed to this being the first of

many dates. My friends and I agreed: if there was ever a man whose

success on a first date was assured, it was on this date for me.

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24 / AARON SHARP

Once she agreed to go on the date, the work began in earnest.

I carefully chose a restaurant for dinner that would be fun, not

cheap but not too expensive, with an excellent variety of dishes.

I then came up with after-dinner activities that would allow us

to talk and get to know each other. The plan was flawless unless

I did something stupid, which, let’s face it, is always a possibility

with me.

I picked her up that evening and we headed to the restaurant

for a fantastic dinner. I had pasta while she had crab cakes. At

some point in the meal she suggested I try the crab cakes, which

I did despite my complete aversion to eating just about anything

that comes out of the ocean. To this day she remembers the agonized

look on my face as I got my first and last taste of crab cakes.

Our dinner conversation was smooth and we discussed one

of the classes we had together—Old Testament History. I mentioned

a project that I was considering for the class, and before

I knew it we were discussing the possibility of undertaking the

project as a team. There could not have been a clearer sign that

this date was a home run. Surely, if we were talking about spending

dozens of hours together on a project, then she must like me

too. I was most definitely on my way to having a girlfriend soon.

After dinner we went to a bookstore where we each picked out

books that we would like to read and told the other person why

we found those particular books interesting. From the bookstore

we made our way to another restaurant where we each ordered

a piece of cheesecake and continued our lively conversation. All

night long I was the consummate gentleman, opening doors and

being attentive. As our night drew to a close, I prepared to return

to the dorm to tell all my buddies how I was such a thoughtful,

romantic guy and that we would soon be going on a second date.

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Detours and Unmet Expectations / 25

We pulled up to her apartment building and I walked her

to her door. On the way, I casually told my date how much fun

I had and how much I would enjoy being able to take her out

again. I uttered these words and then waited for the “Sure, that

would be great” that I was sure was coming. Instead of agreeing

to a second date, however, this lovely woman told me that she was

not interested in going on a second date and would really prefer

to remain friends.

We arrived at her door. I thanked her for the evening, and

then made my way back to my car. Once inside I looked in

the mirror—did I have something in my teeth, or something

hanging out my nose the whole night? I checked my breath and

my armpits—did I smell bad? I mentally replayed the night’s

events—did she not have fun? I started reviewing our entire history.

Did she ever really like me? Was there something wrong

with me? Was I a bad date? These and many more questions

flew through my mind as I drove back to my dorm. Despite the

fact that everything had seemed to go so well, my expectations

proved to be the exact opposite of what came to pass. I expected

a second date, but instead I found myself watching basketball in

the men’s dorm by myself. A little less than two and a half years

later I would marry that same girl, but at the time I knew nothing

of that. All I knew was that real life had veered far off course of

my expectations.

Pretty much every human being who is old enough to walk

has experienced the disconcerting feeling of unmet expectations.

From the first time that another child played with the toy that

you wanted, you began to get the concept. You may have been in

a room full of toys, but that other kid had the one toy you desperately

wanted. You asked for the toy, you demanded the toy, and

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26 / AARON SHARP

finally you tried to just take the toy. But instead of getting the toy

that you so prized, you got in trouble with an adult.

These first few experiences prepared us for the realization

that the world does not revolve around us and that more often

than not our expectations will be unmet. Yet, even as adults, we

still struggle mightily to remember this concept. This concept is

particularly foreign when we are, in our minds, living rightly. We

understand that if we live outside of the will of God, bad things

will happen to us. Those who choose to live a life of sin will

pay the consequences of that sin, and at times their lives will be

full of nothing but despair and tragedy. That part of life makes

sense to us rationally. Expressions such as “Garbage in, garbage

out,” “You play, you pay,” and “You get what you pay for” are all

evidence that humans comprehend the concept that if you live

dangerously, then dangerous things can and will happen to you.

We have the same expectation for living rightly—we expect

that good living will give us good results. Most of us operate as if

the number-one rule for living the Christian life is to do our best

to do the right things in the right way. Our to-do lists look like

this: go to church, read the Bible, pray, try to be a nice person,

love your family, pet the dog, put some money in the plate, pay

your taxes, buy lemonade from the little girl on the corner, and

try not to get too angry at other drivers (although the occasional

scream is perfectly acceptable). We do all of these things and

expect that because we have stayed on the straight and narrow

path, we will be okay and our good expectations for our life will

be fulfilled.

Unfortunately this “play it safe” philosophy does not protect

us from disappointment over unmet expectations (nor does it

necessarily equate to a healthy, vibrant life for a believer in Jesus

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Detours and Unmet Expectations / 27

Christ). It may make perfect sense rationally: good life = good

expectations fulfilled; bad life = good expectations not fulfilled,

but the path that the Bible presents to us is a far more rugged.

For instance, take the events that befell the prophet Elijah in the

beginning of 1 Kings 19:

Now Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how

he had killed all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel

sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, “So may the gods do to me

and even more, if I do not make your life as the life of one of

them by tomorrow about this time.” (vv. 1–2)

Chapter 18 of 1 Kings closed with Elijah as God’s ultimate

champion. He was victorious over the idolatrous prophets of

Baal, outran a chariot down a mountain, and even kept running

seventeen more miles to the town of Jezreel. The biblical record

does not tell us what his thoughts were as he ran well over half

a marathon, but judging by his reaction beginning in verse 3 of

chapter 19, it is probably safe to assume that he did not expect

what came next.

Elijah was not the only one to return to the fortress city of

Jezreel. King Ahab also returned and was quick to inform Queen

Jezebel about the day’s events on Mount Carmel. Unlike Ahab,

who seemed to be in fear and awe of God’s prophet, Jezebel sends

a message to Elijah saying, “So may the gods do to me and even

more, if I do not make your life as the life of one of them by

tomorrow about this time.” To the modern reader this was the

equivalent of Elijah coming home and finding a severed horse’s

head in his bed, or seeing his face on Israel’s most wanted list.

Instead of being a hero, Elijah found himself as public enemy

number one, at least as far as the queen was concerned.

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One would expect that the man who just killed 450 prophets

of a false god would laugh at the threat of one woman. Elijah had

just called down fire from heaven; surely he feared no one and

nothing. If anything, we would expect more fire from heaven,

but the exact opposite happens. Before we get to Elijah’s reaction,

we must first consider one of the most frequent beginnings of a

detour—unmet expectations. Most scholars agree that Elijah’s

reaction is due to events not playing out as he had envisioned

them. Consider a summary of the situation by Ron Allen:

There are indications in the Elijah narrative that he

hoped to eradicate Baal worship and reestablish a united

monarchy under the pure Yahwism of Moses. The celebrated

contest on Carmel (1 Kings 18) actually began

three-and-one-half years earlier in the palace of Ahab,

when Elijah said there would be no more rain (17:1). Baal,

the fertility god of Canaan, was principally pictured as

the deity responsible for rain . . . Surely by all [Elijah’s]

actions an utter defeat of Baalism had been anticipated.

The extermination of the prophets of Baal in mock and

grisly sacrifice at the Wadi Kishon (v. 40) seemed to be

the final stroke . . . But when Ahab witnessed it and

returned to his palace at Jezreel, did he depose his wicked

queen? No! He told her of Elijah’s victory and did not

prevent her from ordering Elijah’s execution in reprisal.1

Elijah had anticipated that the incredible force with which

Yahweh, the one true God, had shown himself to be would bring

forth a true and long-awaited revival among God’s people and

their wicked leaders. After all, had not people fallen on their

faces and shouted, “The Lord, He is God; the Lord, He is God”

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Detours and Unmet Expectations / 29

(18:39)? Surely Elijah expected that the northern kingdom of

Israel would turn to God, and possibly the kingdoms of Judah

and Israel would be reunited.

Sadly, Elijah’s expectation of what was to come could not

have been more different from what actually happened. Instead

of revival, Jezebel declared vengeance. Instead of becoming a

national hero, Elijah became a hunted man. Instead of a king and

a queen turning to the one true God in repentance, they stubbornly,

rebelliously, and violently lashed out at God’s prophet.

Like the prophet Elijah, often our unexpected detours start

with unmet expectations. Life takes us in a direction that we did

not anticipate anddid not desire. The more we look around and

try to find somewhere familiar, somewhere that we thought we

would be had things been different, the more despairing we can

become. Our best attempts to solve the problem of a detour often

leave us with a bigger problem rather than a solution.

Understanding that unmet expectations may play a role in

our detour is not a solution to our problems. Just knowing this

fact will not help you see the situation clearly, but for the fog to

lift even a little, we must spend some time thinking about our

expectations.

The Problem with Ou r Expectations

There are three problems with our expectations. First, our

expectations are uninformed, if for no other reason than because

they involve the future. It is not that we should never consider the

future, but that we must realize and anticipate that our expectations

may not, and likely will not, be met. Consider the following

people and their expectations of the future:

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30 / AARON SHARP

• In 1969 a little known member of the British Parliament

named Margaret Thatcher said, “It will be years—

not in my time—before a woman will become prime

minister.” Yes, this is the same Margaret Thatcher who

was elected prime minister ten years later.

• In 1943 Thomas Watson, the chairman of IBM

said, “I think there is a world market for maybe five

computers.”

• In casting for the 1964 movie The Best Man, about

two leading candidates for the presidency of the

United States, a young enterprising actor named Ronald

Reagan was rejected for the part. Reportedly he

was rejected for “not having the presidential look.”

This is the same Ronald Reagan who took the real

oath of office in 1980.

• In 1918 Tris Speaker, a baseball Hall of Famer, felt the

need to comment on a move by the rival Boston Red

Sox, telling anyone who would listen that, “Taking

the best left-handed pitcher in baseball and converting

him into a right fielder is one of the dumbest things

I ever heard.” The player Speaker was referring to—

George Herman “Babe” Ruth—finished his career

with 714 home runs, a record that stood for nearly

four decades.

• Lieutenant Joseph Ives, tasked with studying the

Grand Canyon by the U.S. War Department,

reported, “Ours has been the first [expedition], and

doubtless to be the last, to visit this profitless locality.”

Today nearly five million people visit the Grand

Canyon every year.

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Detours and Unmet Expectations / 31

We may laugh at these obviously far-off predictions, but if

we are honest with ourselves, our expectations for our own lives

are just about as inaccurate. Take these expectations, for example:

• I will not have health problems.

• All of my loved ones will live long and fruitful lives.

• I will know when to make a career change.

• I will meet my spouse and fall madly in love by the

time I am twenty-four.

• We will have four children.

• My spouse and I will always see eye to eye.

Now some of these expectations may seem a bit silly, and

some may be a little more serious, but any one of them can go

unmet. Those with some spiritual maturity or life experience will

look at the list and say, “Well, obviously those things may or may

not happen.” Andit is definitely true that most of us understand

that bad things might happen to us, but the point is that even

those of us who are not new to the faith or how the world works

do not expect them to happen. Our expectations are for good

health, vibrant relationships, and sunshine in our lives. So, when

God allows something tragic or disappointing to come into our

lives, most of us are knocked off our feet by it. Our expectations

deal with the future, and the future is the one thing that we know

very little about.

Second, our expectations are selfish. Pause for a moment and

think about your perfect world and what the future would be like

if that world happened. Next think of not your perfect world,

but a reasonable expectation of life in five to ten years. Now consider

how many of your expectations revolved around yourself.

Odds are 100 percent of them. Even if you were thinking of the

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32 / AARON SHARP

perfect

marriage partner, you were thinking of the perfect marriage

partner for you. You might have thought of the future for

your children or grandchildren, but you thought of the future for

your children and your grandchildren. More than likely, nowhere

in your imaginings of your perfect world did you think about

what life would be like for your friends, much less acquaintances

or total strangers. This is a big area where our expectations fail—

our expectations revolve around ourselves, but God’s plans do

not. Our expectations are so often frustrated because while we are

focused on ourselves, God is focused on His purposes.

Third, often our expectations are unmet because we have a

false perception of who God really is. Our failure to understand

exactly who God is and what His priorities include is often one

of the biggest factors in our unmet expectations. Consider the

following popular, but false, ideas of God and His attributes:

• God is a slot machine whose sole purpose is to give me

what I need or want. How often do we become frustrated

with God because He has not given us what

we believe He should have? On this issue, it is easy

to point the finger at others, particularly those whose

theology disagrees with ours, but all too often this

view of God is a problem for all of us. God does desire

to give His sincere children the desires of their hearts

(Psalm 37:4), but He is not a genie granting our every

wish.

• God is (only) love. Now, the Bible very clearly states

that God is love (1 John 4:8). Love is not simply an

attribute of God; it is also part of His essence. Yet we

err when we look at God as being only love. Theolodidn’tsignup_

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Detours and Unmet Expectations / 33

gian D. A. Carson explains, “Our culture has been

purged of anything the culture finds uncomfortable.

The love of God has been sanitized, democratized, and

above all sentimentalized . . . Today most people seem

to have little difficulty believing in the love of God;

they have far more difficulty believing in the justice

of God, the wrath of God, and the noncontradictory

truthfulness of an omniscient God.”2 The prevailing

view today is that God is a kind, gentle, grandfatherly

being who delights in handing out candy and blessings

to people. Unfortunately this is not the God of

the Bible. The God of the Bible is love, but He is also

holy, righteous, and just.

• God wants me to be happy. Happiness is a funny thing.

It can come and go so easily. People today, particularly

Americans, live their lives in pursuit of happiness.

After all, are not we guaranteed the right of doing just

that by the Declaration of Independence? Yet God has

more important things to accomplish in and through

us than mere happiness. God’s purpose of using the

apostle Paul to spread the gospel was more important

than his happiness when he was executed by

the Romans (2 Timothy 4:1–8). God’s desire to provide

for His chosen people was more important than

Joseph’s happiness when he was sold into slavery and

falsely imprisoned (Genesis 45:1–8; Psalm 105:17–19).

God’s desire to proclaim the truth to His people was

more important than Jeremiah’s happiness when the

king became angry and threw him in a muddy pit

(Jeremiah 1:1–10; 38:1–13).

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• God will not give me more than I can bear (alone). Often

when we feel like life has taken a detour it is because

we are completely overwhelmed by circumstances. So

we cling to the idea that we can make it through these

trying times all by ourselves because God would not

put more on our shoulders than we can carry. That

sounds right, but it misses a large part of God’s truth.

God routinely puts more on our shoulders than we

can carry alone, which is how we realize just how deep

our need for God and other people truly is.3 If we were

able to bear the weight ourselves we might never properly

acknowledge God, or our brothers and sisters in

Christ who are able to bear our burdens with us (Galatians

6:2).

• God wants Christians to be happy and joyful (always).

This is similar to “God wants me to be happy,” but

with a slight twist. Some people are under the mistaken

impression that God requires that we always

present ourselves as happy and joyful, without exception.

It is true that we should be full of God’s love and

the Holy Spirit, and the knowledge of God should give

us noticeable joy (Philippians 4:4). However, everyone

will experience times of sadness, fear, doubt, and

depression, and hiding these emotions is not spiritual.

The Word of God reveals that plenty of God’s servants

had hard times, not the least of which is the instance

in Elijah’s life about which this book is written. Job

experienced severe trials, and his reaction to them was

what one would expect: pain, frustration, and anger.

We might anticipate that God would respond to Job’s

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Detours and Unmet Expectations / 35

negative emotions with a fireball like the one that

consumed Elijah’s sacrifice. However, the Scriptures

tell us that even after Job’s emotional outpouring God

still accepted him (Job 42:7–9).

Dealing with Unmet Expectations

We have learned that when life takes an unexpected detour,

our first step should be to check our expectations. At this point

you may be thinking, “If that is true, then what is the solution

for dealing with these unmet expectations?” This is an excellent

question and one we will discuss, but first let’s change the question

around just a bit.

People on detours tend to look for directions and answers,

and what they really want is a map that shows the way back

home. But I would suggest that God’s primary purpose in allowing

your journey to take an unexpected detour is not just a lesson

in finding your way back to the interstate. As we progress

through 1 Kings 19, we will see that this was true of Elijah, and

I believe that it is true for most of us as well. Having said that,

let’s answer a different question: “If it is true that detours are

about more than simply finding our way back to our desired

path, then what are some guidelines for dealing with these unmet

expectations?”

The difference in that question and the one posed previously

may seem slight to you, but it is important. On a detour we

tend to become even more frustrated and disillusioned looking

for solutions. We are focused on the conclusion of the journey,

rather than the journey itself. In this circumstance, rather than

directions to our final destination, what we really need is extra

fuel to continue the journey.

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36 / AARON SHARP

We are unique individuals, and what God is attempting to

do in our detours will never be exactly the same from one person

to another. Rather than a one-size-fits-all answer, the following

principles are meant to function much as additional fuel to keep

you going even if your unexpected journey is a lengthy one.

First, when you find yourself on a detour and dealing with

unmet expectations, take the time to look for God’s purposes

instead of your best interests. As fallen creatures, we are inherently

selfish, and we live in a world that caters to our desire to

fulfill our own desires. So the idea that we should put God’s

purposes at the forefront is not one that comes easily to us. Certainly

it is not our first inclination, but the truth is that what we

think are our best interests are not God’s top priority. Anyone

who has been on a detour for any amount of time has probably

gotten tired of having sincere people quote Romans 8:28 to them:

“We know that God causes all things to work together for good

to those who love God, to those who are called according to His

purpose.” The verse can be a great encouragement, but often we

misread it. The verse says that God “causes” everything to work

for good, but it does not mean that only good things will happen

to us. Very bad things will happen to us, but God has a purpose

and at times my best interests, at least as I understand them, must

take a back seat to that greater purpose.

Consider the story of the blind man in John 9. Jesus and His

disciples were walking together, and they passed a blind man on

the road. The disciples asked what they thought was an insightful

question: “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he

would be born blind?” (v. 2). They thought his physical impairment

must have been tied to a sin, and they wanted to know

whose sin it was that caused the blindness. Jesus’ answer to His

didn’tsignup_2nd.indd 36 2/1/12 11:33 AM

Detours and Unmet Expectations / 37

followers, however, turned their theology upside down: “It was

neither that this man sinned, nor his parents; but it was so that

the works of God might be displayed in him” (v. 3).

Imagine, if you will, the disciples’ shock. This man had been

unable to see for his entire life (that is one whale of a detour).

He had never looked into his mother’s or father’s faces, or seen a

sunset. He had been unable to play with other children as a boy

and had struggled with his lack of vision into adulthood. This all

happened solely so that God might perform a miracle in His life

for all to see. He had done nothing wrong, and his parents had

done nothing wrong, yet God allowed this disability so that He

could show everyone His power and glory.

If you are on a detour today, you are probably asking yourself

and God the most simple of questions: “Why?” You may receive

an answer to that question, and you may not. One sure thing is

that sometimes God allows our life’s path to take tremendous

detours so that He can be glorified and we can be equipped to

minister to others. If your detour has to do with sickness, it may

well be that God wants you to know and understand sickness to

minister to others experiencing the same pain. Maybe God has

allowed you to feel the pain of depression to help others who

struggle with depression. Or it may be that the relational conflict

that is causing you such angst may enable you to counsel and

minister to others who are going through or will go through similar

circumstances. Whatever it is that you are going through, do

not discount the impact that your experience can have on others.

Second, even when you are in the midst of a detour, keep

your expectations flexible. Too often our expectations are firmer

in our minds than is realistic. The apostle James stresses this

point in the fourth chapter of his epistle:

didn’tsignup_2nd.indd 37 2/1/12 11:33 AM

38 / AARON SHARP

Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go

to such and such a city, and spend a year there and engage

in business and make a profit.” Yet you do not know what

your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that

appears for a little while and then vanishes away. Instead,

you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and also do

this or that.” (vv. 13–15)

Here, James is not condemning planning for the future, but

he is reproaching the attitude of believers assuming that they

were able to carry out their plans. They were treating their expectations

as if they were a sure thing, when it was all subject to the

mind of God, which no one can know.

Though we all have expectations, we must remember that

we cannot write our expectations in stone. If we are honest with

ourselves, we would have to agree with James’s point that we can

do nothing on our own. The only reason we make it from one

day to the next is because God has provided the breath and life

for us. We must approach our expectations with the understanding

that we have not been promised tomorrow.

In 2010 the United States military released a Joint Operating

Environment report that was commissioned as a look into the

future, an attempt to make educated guesses about environments

and challenges the military would face over the next twenty-five

years. However, the United States Joint Forces Command, which

published the report, placed the following statement at the front

of the study:

The Joint Operating Environment is intended to inform

joint concept development and experimentation throughout

the Department of Defense. It provides a perspective

didn’tsignup_2nd.indd 38 2/1/12 11:33 AM

A Love Forbidden

May 22nd, 2012

A Love Forbidden

 

Heart of the Rockies Series- #2

By Kathleen Morgan Kathleen Morgan explores themes of mercy, fidelity to one’s beliefs, and compassion for those different from oneself in this sweeping Western saga. Set amongst the wilds of the Colorado Rockies in 1879, this is a tale of a forbidden love and a faith tested in the midst of intolerance and the harsh realities of life on the untamed frontier.

Moved by the desire for adventure and a yearning to help the Ute Indians, twenty-year-old Shiloh Wainright impulsively accepts a teaching position at the White River Indian Agency in northwestern Colorado. The new job, however, isn’t what she imagined it would be, and Shiloh soon finds herself caught in the cross fire between the Utes, their unyielding Indian Agent, and the unrealistic demands of the US government. Her unexpected encounter with Jesse Blackwater, an embittered half-breed Ute and childhood friend, only complicates matters as they battle their growing feelings for each other amidst the spiraling tensions threatening to explode into a catastrophic Indian uprising.

ISLAND BREEZES

Shiloh’s been in love most of her life, but didn’t have a clue. Deciding she needs a little adventure and escape from family tensions, she signs a contract with the White River Indiana Agency.

Although she was looking forward to teaching the Ute children, she was in for some surprises when she actually arrived at her new job.

One of those surprises was Jesse, a childhood friend who happened to be a half breed. Her relationship with Jesse is an on again, off again affair. Of course, mingled in are more family problems and an Indian uprising.

Get out that box of tissues.

***A special thank you to Donna Hausler for providing a review copy.***

Kathleen Morgan is the award-winning author of many novels, including those in the bestselling Brides of Culdee Creek series. She lives in Colorado.

Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group, offers practical books that bring the Christian faith to everyday life.? They publish resources from a variety of well-known brands and authors, including their partnership with MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) and Hungry Planet.

For more information, visit www.RevellBooks.com.

Available May 2012 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group

The Great Commandment

May 20th, 2012

One of the scribes came near and heard them disputing with one another and seeing that he answered them well, he asked him, “Which commandment is the first of all?”

Jesus answered, “The first is, “Hear, O Israel:  the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your mind, and with all your strength.”

The second is this, You shall love your neighbor as yourself.  There is no other commandment greater than these.”

Then the scribe said to him, “You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that he is one, and besides him there is no other; and to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding and with all the strength, and to love one’s neighbor as oneself, -this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.  

“When Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.”

After that no one dared to ask him any question.

Mark 12:28-34

Garden of Madness

May 16th, 2012

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!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

 

Tracy L. Higley

 

and the book:

 

Garden of Madness
Thomas Nelson; 1 edition (May 1, 2012)

***Special thanks to Ruthie Dean of Thomas Nelson for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Tracy started her first novel at the age of eight and has been hooked on writing ever since. After earning a B.A. in English Literature at Rowan University, she spent ten years writing drama presentations for church ministry before beginning to write fiction. A lifelong interest in history and mythology has led Tracy to extensive research into ancient Greece, Egypt, Rome and Persia, and shaped her desire to shine the light of the gospel into the cultures of the past.

She has traveled through Greece, Turkey, Egypt, Israel, Jordan and Italy, researching her novels and falling into adventures.
Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

The Untold Story of King Nebuchadnezzar’s Daughter.

For seven years the Babylonian princess Tiamat has waited for the mad king Nebuchadnezzar to return to his family and to his kingdom. Driven from his throne to live as a beast, he prowls his luxurious Hanging Gardens, secreted away from the world.

Since her treaty marriage at a young age, Tia has lived an opulent but oppressive life in the palace. But her husband has since died and she relishes her newfound independence. When a nobleman is found murdered in the palace, Tia must discover who is responsible for the macabre death, even if her own is freedom threatened.

As the queen plans to wed Tia to yet another prince, the powerful mage Shadir plots to expose the family’s secret and set his own man on the throne. Tia enlists the help of a reluctant Jewish captive, her late husband’s brother Pedaiah, who challenges her notions of the gods even as he opens her heart to both truth and love.

Product Details:

List Price: $9.99

Paperback: 400 pages

Publisher: Thomas Nelson; 1 edition (May 1, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 140168680X

ISBN-13: 978-1401686802

ISLAND BREEZES

She’s busy being a spoiled princess.  Tiamat has a long way to go to discover the woman she really is.

She has been keeping the secret of her father’s madness for seven years, but still has many other secrets to discover in order to protect her life and the lives of those she loves.

This is a story of intrigue and mystery, as well as a story of deep faith.  If only Tia had a measure of the faith of the captives being held in Babylon.

I really enjoy novels about the characters in the Bible, and all the historical aspects they involve.  This one did not disappoint me.  I learned a lot while enjoying the story.

 
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Prologue

 

Babylon, 570 BC

 

My name is Nebuchadnezzar. Let the nations hear it!
I am ruler of Babylon, greatest empire on earth. Here in its capital city, I am like a god.
Tonight, as the sun falls to its death in the western desert, I walk along the balconies I have built, overlooking the city I have built, and know there is none like me.
I inhale the twilight air and catch the scent of a dozen sacrifices. Across the city, the smoke and flames lift from Etemenanki, the House of the Platform of Heaven and Earth. The priests sacrifice tonight in honor of Tiamat, for tomorrow she will be wed. Though I have questioned the wisdom of a marriage with the captive Judaeans, tomorrow will not be a day for questions. It will be a day of celebration, such as befits a princess.
Tiamat comes to me now on the balcony, those dark eyes wide with entreaty. “Please, Father.”
I encircle her shoulders in a warm embrace and turn her to the city.
“There, Tia. There is our glorious Babylon. Do you not wish to serve her?”
She leans her head against my chest, her voice thick. “Yes, of course. But I do not wish to marry.”
I pat her shoulder, kiss the top of her head. My sweet Tia. Who would have foretold that she would become such a part me?
“Have no fear, dear one. Nothing shall change. Husband or not, I shall always love you. Always protect you.”
She clutches me, a desperate grip around my waist.
I release her arms and look into her eyes. “Go now. Your mother will be searching for you. Tomorrow will be a grand day, for you are the daughter of the greatest king Babylon has ever seen.”
I use my thumb to rub a tear from her eye, give her a gentle push, and she is gone with a last look of grief that breaks my heart.
The greatest king Babylon has ever seen. The words echo like raindrops plunking on stones. I try to ignore a tickling at the back of my thoughts. Something Belteshazzar told me, many months ago. A dream.
I shake my head, willing my mind to be free of the memory. My longtime Jewish advisor, part of my kingdom since we were both youths, often troubles me with his advice. I keep him close because he has become a friend. I keep him close because he is too often right.
But I do not want to think of Belteshazzar. Tonight is for me alone. For my pleasure, as I gaze across all that I have built, all that I have accomplished. This great Babylon, this royal residence with its Gardens to rival those created by the gods. Built by my mighty power. For the glory of my majesty. I grip the balcony wall, inhale the smoky sweetness again, and smile. It is good.
I hear a voice and think perhaps Belteshazzar has found me after all, for the words sound like something he would say, and yet the voice . . . The voice is of another.
“There is a decree gone out for you, Nebuchadnezzar. Your kingship has been stripped from you.”
I turn to the traitorous words, but no one is there. And yet the voice continues, rumbling in my own chest, echoing in my head.
“You will be driven from men to dwell with beasts. You will eat the herbs of oxen and seven times will pass over you, until you know that the Most High is ruler in the kingdom of men. To whom He wills power, He gives power.”
The tickling is there again, in my mind. I roll my shoulders to ease the discomfort, but it grows. It grows to a scratching, a clawing at the inside of my head, until I fear I shall bleed within.
The fear swells in me and I am frantic now. I rub my eyes, swat my ears, and still the scratching and scraping goes on, digging away at my memories, at my sense of self, of who I am and what I have done, and I stare at the sky above and the stones below and bend my waist and fall upon the ground where it is better, better to be on the ground, and I want only to find food, food, food. And a two-legged one comes and makes noises with her mouth and clutches at me but I understand none of it and even this knowledge that I do not understand is slipping, slipping from me as the sun slips into the desert.
And in the darkness, I am no more.

 

Chapter 1

 

Seven years later

 

The night her husband died, Tia ran with abandon.
The city wall, wide enough for chariots to race upon its baked bricks, absorbed the slap of her bare feet and cooled her skin. She flew past the Ishtar Gate as though chased by demons, knowing the night guard in his stone tower would be watching. Leering. Tia ignored his attention.
Tonight, this night, she wanted only to run.
A lone trickle of sweat chased down her backbone. The desert chill soaked into her bones and somewhere in the vast sands beyond the city walls, a jackal shrieked over its kill. Her exhalation clouded the air and the quiet huffs of her breath kept time with her feet.
Breathe, slap, slap, slap.
They would be waiting. Expecting her. A tremor disturbed her rhythm. Her tears for Shealtiel were long spent, stolen by the desert air before they fell.
Flames surged from the Tower and snagged her attention. Priests and their nightly sacrifices, promising to ensure the health of the city. For all of Babylon’s riches, the districts encircled by the double city walls smelled of poverty, disease, and hopelessness. But the palace was an oasis in a desert.
She would not run the entire three bêru around the city. Not tonight. Only to the Marduk Gate and back to the Southern Palace, where her mother would be glaring her displeasure at both her absence and her choice of pastime. Tia had spent long days at Shealtiel’s bedside, waiting for the end. Could her mother not wait an hour?
Too soon, the Marduk Gate loomed and Tia slowed. The guard leaned over the waist-high crenellation, thrust a torch above his head, and hailed the trespasser.
“Only Tiamat.” She panted and lifted a hand. “Running.”
He shrugged and shook his head, then turned back to his post, as though a princess running the city wall at night in the trousers of a Persian were a curiosity, nothing more. Perhaps he’d already seen her run. More likely, her reputation ran ahead of her. The night hid her flush of shame.
But she could delay no longer. The guilt had solidified, a stone in her belly she could not ignore.
She pivoted, sucked in a deep breath, and shot forward, legs and arms pounding for home.
Home. Do I still call it such? When all that was precious had been taken? Married at fourteen. A widow by twenty-one. And every year a lie.
“I shall always love you, always protect you.”
He had spoken the words on the night he had been lost to her. And where was love? Where was protection? Not with Shealtiel.
The night sky deepened above her head, and a crescent moon hung crooked against the blackness. Sataran and Aya rose in the east, overlapping in false union.
“The brightest light in your lifetime’s sky,” an elderly mage had said of the merged stars. The scholar’s lessons on the workings of the cosmos interested her, and she paid attention. As a princess already married for treaty, she was fortunate to retain tutors.
Ahead, the Ishtar Gate’s blue-glazed mosaics, splashed with yellow lions, surged against the purpling sky, and to its left, the false wooded mountain built atop the palace for her mother, Amytis, equaled its height. Tia chose the east wall of the gate for a focal point and ignored the Gardens. Tonight the palace had already seen death. She needn’t also dwell on madness.
Breathe, slap, slap, slap. Chest on fire, almost there.
She reached the palace’s northeast corner, where it nearly brushed the city wall, slowed to a stop, and bent at the waist. Hands braced against her knees, she sucked in cold air. Her heartbeat quieted.
When she turned back toward the palace, she saw what her mother had done.
A distance of one kanû separated the wide inner city wall from the lip of the palace roof, slightly lower. Tia kept a length of cedar wood there on the roof, a plank narrow enough to discourage most, and braced it across the chasm for her nightly runs. When she returned, she would pull it back to the roof, where anyone who might venture past the guards on the wall would not gain access. Only during her run did this plank bridge the gap, awaiting her return.
Amytis had removed it.
Something like heat lightning snapped across Tia’s vision and left a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth. Her mother thought to teach her a lesson. Punish her for her manifold breaches of etiquette by forcing her to take the long way down, humiliate herself to the sentinel guard.
She would not succeed.
With a practiced eye, Tia measured the distance from the ledge to the palace roof. She would have the advantage of going from a higher to a lower level. A controlled fall, really. Nothing more.
But she made the mistake of looking over, to the street level far below. Her senses spun and she gripped the wall.
She scrambled onto the ledge, wide enough to take the stance needed for a long jump, and bent into position, one leg extended behind. The palace rooftop garden held only a small temple in its center, lit with three torches. Nothing to break her fall, or her legs, when she hit. She counted, steadying mind and body.
The wind caught her hair, loosened during her run, and blew it across her eyes. She flicked her head to sweep it away, rocked twice on the balls of her feet, and leaped.
The night air whooshed against her ears, and her legs cycled through the void as though she ran on air itself. The flimsy trousers whipped against her skin, and for one exhilarating moment Tia flew like an egret wheeling above the city and knew sweet freedom.
This was how it should always be. My life. My choice. I alone control my destiny.
She hit the stone roof grinning like a trick monkey, and it took five running steps to capture her balance.
Glorious.
Across the rooftop, a whisper of white fluttered. A swish of silk and a pinched expression disappeared through the opening to the stairs. Amytis had been waiting to see her stranded on the city wall and Tia had soured her pleasure. The moment of victory faded, and Tia straightened her hair, smoothed her clothing.
“Your skill is improving.” The eerie voice drifted to Tia across the dark roof and she flinched. A chill rippled through her skin.
Shadir stood at the far end of the roof wall, where the platform ended and the palace wall rose higher to support the Gardens. His attention was pinned to the stars, and a scroll lay on the ledge before him, weighted with amulets.
“You startled me, Shadir. Lurking there in the shadows.”
The mage turned, slid his gaze the length of her in sharp appraisal. “It would seem I am not the only one who prefers the night.”
Long ago, Shadir had been one of her father’s chief advisors. Before—before the day of which they never spoke. Since that monstrous day, he held amorphous power over court and kingdom, power that few questioned and even fewer defied. His oiled hair hung in tight curls to his shoulders and the full beard and mustache concealed too much of his face, leaving hollow eyes that seemed to follow even when he did not turn his head.
Tia shifted on her feet and eyed the door. “It is cooler to run at night.”
The mage held himself unnaturally still. Did he even breathe?
As a child, Tia had believed Shadir could scan her thoughts like the night sky and read her secrets. Little relief had come with age. Another shudder ran its cold finger down her back.
Tia lowered her chin, all the obeisance she would give, and escaped the rooftop. Behind her, he spoke in a tone more hiss than speech. “The night holds many dangers.”
She shook off the unpleasant encounter. Better to ready herself for the unpleasantness she yet faced tonight.
Her husband’s family would have arrived by this time, but sweating like a soldier and dressed like a Persian, she was in no state to make an appearance in the death chamber. Instead, she went to her own rooms, where her two slave women, Omarsa and Gula, sat vigil as though they were the grieving widows. They both jumped when Tia entered and busied themselves with lighting more oil lamps and fetching bathwater.
In spite of her marriage to the eldest son of the captive Judaean king, Tia’s chambers were her own. She had gone to Shealtiel when it was required, and only then. The other nights she spent here among her own possessions—silk fabrics purchased from merchants who traveled east of Babylon, copper bowls hammered smooth by city jewelers, golden statues of the gods, rare carved woods from fertile lands in the west. A room of luxury. One that Shealtiel disdained and she adored. She was born a Babylonian princess. Let him have his austerity, his righteous self-denial. It had done him little good.
One of her women stripped her trousers, then unwound the damp sash that bound her lean upper body. Tia stood in the center of the bath chamber, its slight floor depression poked with drainage holes under her feet, and tried to be still as they doused her with tepid water and scrubbed with a scented paste of plant ash and animal fat until her skin stung.
When they had dressed her appropriately, her ladies escorted her through the palace corridors to the chamber where her husband of nearly seven years lay cold.
Seven years since she lost herself and her father on the same day. Neither of them had met death, but all the same, they were lost. Seven years of emptiness where shelter had been, of longing instead of love.
But much had ended today—Shealtiel’s long illness and Tia’s long imprisonment.
She paused outside the chamber door. Could she harden herself for the inevitable? The wails of women’s laments drifted under the door and wrapped around her heart, squeezing pity from her. A wave of sorrow, for the evil that took those who are loved, tightened her throat. But her grief was more for his family than herself. He had been harsh and unloving and narrow-minded, and now she was free. Tia would enter, give the family her respect, and escape to peace.
She nodded to one of her women, and Gula tapped the door twice and pushed it open.
Shealtiel’s body lay across a pallet, skin already graying. The chamber smelled of death and frankincense. Three women attended her husband—Shealtiel’s sister, his mother, and Tia’s own. His mother, Marta, sat in a chair close to the body. Her mourning clothes, donned over her large frame, were ashy and torn. She lifted her head briefly, saw that it was only Tia, and returned to her keening. Her shoulders rocked and her hands clutched at a knot of clothing, perhaps belonging to Shealtiel. His sister, Rachel, stood against the wall and gave her a shy smile, a smile that melded sorrow and admiration. She was younger than Tia by five years, still unmarried, a sweet girl.
“Good of you to join us, Tia.” Her mother’s eyes slitted and traveled the length of Tia’s robes. Tia expected some comment about her earlier dress, but Amytis held her tongue.
“I was . . . detained.” Their gazes clashed over Shealtiel’s body and Tia challenged her with a silent smile. The tension held for a moment, then Tia bent her head.
She was exquisite, Amytis. No amount of resentment on Tia’s part could blind her to this truth. Though Amytis had made it clear that Tia’s sisters held her affections, and though Tia had long ago given up calling her Mother in her heart, she could not deny that her charms still held sway in Babylon. From old men to children, Amytis was adored. Her lustrous hair fell to her waist, still black though she was nearly fifty, and her obsidian eyes over marble cheekbones were a favorite of the city’s best sculptors. Some said Tia favored her, but if she did, the likeness did nothing to stir a motherly affection.
Tia went to Shealtiel’s mother and whispered over her, “May the gods show kindness to you today, Marta. It is a difficult day for us all.” The woman’s grief broke Tia’s heart, and she placed a hand on Marta’s wide shoulder to share in it.
Marta sniffed and pulled away. “Do not call upon your false gods for me, girl.”
Amytis sucked in a breath, her lips taut.
Tia’s jaw tightened. “He was a good man, Marta. He will be missed.” Both of these statements Tia made without falsehood. Shealtiel was the most pious man she had ever known, fully committed to following the exacting requirements of his God.
Marta seemed to soften. She reached a plump hand to pat Tia’s own, still on her shoulder. “But how could the Holy One have taken him before he saw any children born?”
Tia stiffened and brought her hand to her side, forcing the fingers to relax. Marta rocked and moaned on, muttering about Tia’s inhospitable womb. Tia dared not point out that perhaps her son was to blame.
“But there is still a chance.” Marta looked to Amytis, then to Tia. “It is our way. When the husband dies without an heir, his brother—”
“No.”
The single word came from both her mother’s and her own lips as one. Marta blinked and looked between them.
“It is our way.” Marta glanced at Rachel against the wall, as though seeking an ally. “My second son Pedaiah is unmarried yet. Perhaps Tia could still bear a son for Shealtiel—”
“You have had your treaty marriage with Babylon.” Amytis drew herself up, accentuating her lean height. “There will not be another.”
Tia remained silent. Her mother and she, in agreement? Had Amytis watched her languish these seven years and regretted flinging her like day-old meat to the Judaean dogs? Did she also hope for a life with more purpose for Tia now that she had been released? Tia lifted a smile, ever hopeful that Amytis’s heart had somehow softened toward her youngest daughter.
“Jeconiah shall hear of your refusal!” Marta stood, her chin puckering.
Amytis huffed. “Take the news to your imprisoned husband, then. I shall not wait for his retribution.” She seemed to sense the unfairness of the moment and regret her calloused words. “Come, Tia. Let us leave these women to grieve.” She meant it kindly but it was yet another insult, the implication that Tia need not remain for any personal grief.
Tia followed Amytis from the chamber into the hall, her strong perfume trailing. Amytis spun on her, and her heavy red robe whirled and settled. Her nostrils flared and she spoke through clenched teeth.
“By all the gods, Tiamat! For how long will you make our family a mockery?”

The Pursuit of Lucy Banning

May 16th, 2012

Riveting Story of Love, Wealth & Secrets as Historic Chicago Prepares for 1893 World’s Fair

 

Marshall Field, Henry Studebaker, Pullman, Kimball, Glessner, Bissell, Armour and Rothschild- these names add up to business inventiveness and unbounded wealth in turn-of-the-century Chicago – but changing social classes are threatening the luxury of the elite Prairie Avenue, the playground for the rich and powerful. Olivia Newport introduces readers to a world of luxurious mansions, secrets and forbidden love in the Windy City.

Set on Prairie Avenue, The Pursuit of Lucy Banning gives an inside look to the rich and powerful on the eve of the 1893 World’s Fair in the Windy City. Olivia Newport transports readers to a time of opulence in the first installment in the Avenue of Dreams series.

Lucy Banning may live among Chicago’s rich and famous, but her heart lies elsewhere. Expected to marry an up-and-coming banker from a respected family, Lucy fears she will be forced to abandon her charity work–and the classes she is secretly taking at the newly opened University of Chicago. When she meets an unconventional young architect who is working on plans for the upcoming 1893 World’s Fair, Lucy imagines a life lived on her own terms. Can she break away from her family’s expectations? And will she ever be loved for who she truly is?

From lavish upper-class homes to the well-worn rooms of an orphanage, Newport breathes life and romance into the pages of history–and everyone is invited.

ISLAND BREEZES

Notice that this book is not “in pursuit of Lucy, ” but rather “the pursuit of Lucy.” So just what is she pursuing?

It’s definitely not a husband, home and family. Neither is she interested in all the social functions that a young lady in high society is supposed to pursue.

Lucy is interested in her charity work and her special pursuit. This puts her in danger more than a few times. Her family continues to push for a marriage between Lucy and the son of old family friends. Will Lucy cave in and marry him, giving up her dreams in the process.

In the end her secret is exposed, but a love interest encourages her to continue her pursuit.

***A special thank you to Donna Hausler for providing a review copy.***

Olivia Newport’s novels twist through time to discover where faith and passions meet. Her husband and two twenty-something children provide welcome distraction from the people stomping through her head on their way into her books. She chases joy in stunning Colorado at the foot of the Rockies, where day lilies grow as tall as she is.

Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group, offers practical books for everyday life.? For more information, visit www.RevellBooks.com.

Forgiveness

May 13th, 2012

“So I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.

Whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against ; so that your Father in heaven also forgive you your trespasses.”

Mark 11:24 & 25