Consumer Man’s computer doesn’t like me. Don’t laugh! It doesn’t. I’ve been on the mainland since Saturday and I’ve not managed to get more than one decent post up. If you’ve been checking out the island this week, you’ve probably noticed how weird my last post is. And the more I did to try to fix it, the weirder it got. I finally gave up on it until I could get back to the island and my own computer.
The scary fact is I have a “new to me” computer setting right here waiting on me to get my files slurped out onto an external hard drive so that I can get my info transferred over.
Will my new computer hate me or be kind, loving and patient with me? Now I’m not sure how long it’s going to be before I get up the nerve to change over.
My son has always done these kinds of things for me when I get a new computer, but he is currently living 1,000 miles from the island. John, your mother needs you. Maybe it’s time you took a little vacation down here where it’s nice and warm.
Amish Wisdom for Modern Life: Author shares the real-life stories of the Amish,
with insights to find lasting peace in our lives.
Take a look around you. Everyone is rushing around with endless to-do lists and back-to-back deadlines, barely able to catch a breath. Everyone, that is, except the Amish. Living on the outskirts of modernity, the Amish are icons for a simpler life and a slower pace. It’s this allure—something of a sanctuary, suspended in time—that draws millions of tourists to travel to Amish country every year.
“The Amish are the only people I have ever known who seem to have a handle on inner peace,” says Suzanne Woods Fisher. Fisher recently published Amish Peace: Simple Wisdom for a Complicated World, in which she explores the tranquility that marks their lives.
“It’s easy to get distracted by the buggies and beards and bonnets,” she says. “From the outside, the Amish can seem quaint and old-fashioned. But there’s much we can learn from them.” She would know because she’s spent most of her life alongside these people: Her relatives are members of the Old Order German Baptist Brethren Church, which shares similar values to the Amish.
Interviewing dozens of Amish for her book to gain a deeper understanding of their steadfast peace, Fisher got a closer look into the daily struggles and triumphs of the Amish. She shares these touching, real-life stories in the pages of Amish Peace.
For example, she got to know some of the Amish families who lost children in the West Nickel Mines School shooting. Even in the face of that kind of tragedy, she saw how the Amish community found calm by trusting in God’s sovereignty. “We just have to keep going on,” remarked one Amish woman whose family members were among the victims. “People think we’re perfect, but we’re not. Yet we can’t dwell on what happened. We have to leave it in God’s hands.” That fundamental belief also enabled them to extend incredible, almost immediate forgiveness to the gunman and his family.
Through her conversations and interactions with the Amish, she looks at how their enduring peace is rooted in their appreciation for five key elements: simplicity, time, community, forgiveness and their faith. Whether it’s living with only necessities, spending time with family or learning that the world is larger than our feeble understanding, those attitudes provide the framework that allows them to find solace in spite of life’s unpredictable circumstances.
“We don’t have to ‘go Amish’ to find true peace,” Fisher says. “Instead, we can learn from the example they’ve set and incorporate some of their lessons into our own lives. That’s what Amish Peace is all about—being inspired by the best of the Amish way of life.”
Suzanne Woods Fisher
ISLAND BREEZES
I’ve been reading a lot lately about the Amish and other Plain People. It makes me yearn for the simple living and contentment which comes from that. I know that I could never “go Amish.” I would find it difficult to give up my computer. I’m certain that there are other things I would miss for awhile, but I could easily dump the television, phone and many other modern conveniences that can be so time consuming.
Suzanne Woods Fisher tells us how the Amish achieve the peace of living the simple life.
Interspersed in this book are Amish proverbs and information about Plain Living. One in particular that I like is “He who has no money is poor; he who has nothing but money is even poorer.” Another Amish proverb that has been following me around most of my life is “The hurrier I go, the behinder I get.” That was hanging on the wall of our breakfast room. Staring me in the face. It was still true last week. If I get in a hurry, I often spend more time trying to straighten out the mess I’ve created. I can actually get something done faster if I slow down and not make mistakes in the first place.
I’ve found that so many “labor saving” devices aren’t. Labor saving, that is. They take up space and sometimes take more time than if I just did things the plain and simple way. Also, they all have to be dusted, cleaned, etc. I’ve made my children inherit a lot of things early, but I didn’t give away nearly enough. I’m itching to get busy decluttering and giving away much more. Yes, some are keepsakes because of the memories. Well, I can take a picture of those if I want to look at my memories. At the same time, I create more space and less work. I also plan to incorporate more Amish proverbs in my life.
Do any of you have Amish proverbs in your life? Are you ready to replace stuff with peace? Grab a copy of this book for help and inspiration. Less truly is more.
Follow the Potluck Club Ladies into Their Biggest Catering Job
. . . On Reality TV!
Filled with feisty characters, friendship, and hilarity, book 2 in the beloved
The Potluck Catering Club series takes readers along for the ride to New York City
Authors Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson
love dishing up the stories of the six friends featured in their latest series The Potluck Catering Club—much to the delight of readers. “This is the way Christian fiction should be written,” one reader says. “No cardboard Christian cut-outs of sweet angelic women none of us can relate to. These women are real, just the kind of women I find in my own community.”
A Taste of Fame is the latest book in The Potluck Catering Club series and serves up more of what readers have come to love from these feisty characters and the hilarious antics they find themselves in—which takes them this time to the Big Apple for their first taste of fame:
A Taste of Fameby Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson
ISBN: 978-0-8007-3209-7
September 2009, $13.99
ISLAND BREEZES
This book is a blast! Can you imagine ending up on a reality show by accident? That’s exactly what happened to the six friends and their Potluck Catering Club. I like the way the authors present the story. Each chapter is narrated by of one of the “potluckers.” It’s a refreshing way to to not only get the entire picture, but also, to see each lady’s take on the events. Each person seems to have something going on in her life that is impacted by the need to run off to New York City for the show. We are also treated to mystery in the midst of the various catering events.
Even though this is not the first in this series of “potluck” books, it is a great stand alone read. Of course, now that I’ve met all these ladies, I want to start at the beginning and work my way through all the books. I want to know a little more about what makes them tick and the founding and growth of the Potluck Catering Club. This book is worth every penny and more. There is also a recipe section at the back of the book. It’s worth as much as the novel, so you are actually purchasing two books for the price of one. I’ve earmarked Evie’s Scalloped Potatoes and Lisa Leann’s Spanish Omelet for my next big cooking session.
Dinner parties take a cue from the past,
with revival in potlucks during hard financial times.
PLUS: New cookbook full of recipes perfect for
these friends-and-family get-togethers!
As wallets tighten, friends and family have to get more creative about the way they socialize, seeking to make get-togethers more budget-friendly without sacrificing the fun. That challenge is what has brought about the revival of potlucks to the social scene.
The Potluck Club Cookbook by Linda Evans Shepherd
& Eva Marie Everson
ISBN: 978-0-8007-3349-0
$14.99; September 2009
“Eating in is the new eating out,” says Eva Marie Everson, a potluck enthusiast and co-author of The Potluck Club Cookbook. For instance, Everson and her husband used to meet up with another couple each month over dinner at a different restaurant. “But with the recent economy, we started eating in and dining à la potluck. We get to sit on a screened-in patio and watch the sun set over the lake behind the house. We all agree we should have been doing this all along!”
Potlucks are easy even on strained budgets because no one person carries the full cost of a table-full of food; instead, guests each bring their own favorite dish and together cater the event. This allows guests
to sample new dishes and share favorite recipes from their closest friends.
These potlucks that are popping up in even the classiest of circles barely resemble the potlucks of yesterday. Now, they might carry intriguing themes that the dishes are based around. For instance, a book club’s potluck might feature foods mentioned in the pages of their latest read. Or a birthday celebration for a longtime friend might be a wine-and-cheese potluck showcasing favorite edibles that get better with age. For a close girlfriend who is always known for accenting with yellow, a potluck in her honor might include a savory, golden-hued smorgasbord.
Whatever your affair may look like, Eva Marie Everson and Linda Evans Shepherd are the experts when it comes to hosting and attending these shared meals. Veterans of countless potlucks over the years, the duo has gathered their favorite potluck-ready recipes—from salads to slow-cooker delights—plus their experienced insights about pulling off a potluck into one source: The Potluck Club Cookbook. Shepherd and Evans are also the authors of the popular fiction series The Potluck Club and The Potluck Catering Club—so their penchant for potlucks is obvious.
“Potlucks have been a part of my life since childhood,” explains Everson, whose memories are rife with these culinary celebrations—from her days growing up in the South to her newlywed years to the times toting her young children along to the potluck, too. “The potluck meal isn’t just about sharing good, home-cooked food, but also about connecting with your closest friends and family and creating memories that last a lifetime,” Shepherd adds. “Potlucks must be what love tastes like.”
Available September 2009 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.
ISLAND BREEZES
This cookbook compliments A Taste of Fame. It’s written by the same authors, Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson. (I’m sorry, but this keeps making me think of Eva Marie Saint. I wonder if her mother was a fan). I do get sidetracked now and then, but the recipes in this book are easy enough for a sidetracked person to follow. They are simple and don’t use a bunch of exotic ingredients. I’ve already tried the Turkey Enchilada Casserole. It was wonderful. I had to fight them off at work. Everyone wanted my dinner instead of their own.
I usually do big batch cooking on Monday mornings so that I don’t have to figure out meals when my body and brain are too tired to care. The recipes in this book aren’t big crowd size recipes, but you can make a double batch and freeze some for the days you are tired or in a hurry. Since Consumer Man is still over on the east coast of the mainland, I can make a single recipe and freeze in individual portions.
I have several recipes earmarked for try out today, so it’s off to the kitchen and my own little potluck club of one.
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!
Melody Carlson has published more than one hundred books for adults, children, and teens, with many on best-seller lists. Several books have been finalists for, and winners of, various writing awards, including the Gold Medallion and the RITA Award. She and her husband live in the Cascade Mountains in Oregon and have two grown sons.
List Price: $14.99
Format: Paperback
Number of Pages: 320
Vendor: David C. Cook (2009)
ISBN: 1589191080
ISBN-13: 9781589191082
ISLAND BREEZES
This is a fun book. I haven’t finished it yet, but I’m enjoying all the twists in the lives of these four young ladies. Love, romance, joy, drama, anxieties, mothers, in-laws, boyfriends, fiances, exes, conflicts, insecurities, decisions, indecisions, planning and attending ceremonies, babies and pregnancies.
Oh, my. What a merry-go-round ride! I’m loving it and not getting a bit motion sick. But, then again, I’ve not read a Melody Carlson book that I didn’t love. You need to run out and get a copy so that you can finish it along with me. Leave a comment letting me know which character ends up being your favorite.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Megan Abernathy
“Okay, then, how does the second Saturday in June look?” Anna asked her housemates.
Megan frowned down at her date book spread open on the dining room table. She and Anna had been trying to nail a date for Lelani and Gil’s wedding. Megan had already been the spoiler of the first weekend of June, but she’d already promised her mom that she’d go to a family reunion in Washington. Now it seemed she was about to mess things up again. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I promised Marcus I’d go to his sister’s wedding. It’s been scheduled for almost a year now, and it’s the second Saturday too. But maybe I can get out of it.”
Lelani just shook her head as she quietly rocked Emma in her arms, pacing back and forth between the living room and dining room. The baby was teething and fussy and overdue for her afternoon nap. Megan wasn’t sure if Lelani’s frustrated expression was a result of wedding planning or her baby’s mood.
“Is it possible you could do both weddings in one day?” Anna asked Megan.
“That might work.” Megan picked up her datebook and followed Lelani into the living room, where she continued to rock Emma.
“Or we could look at the third weekend in June,” Anna called from the dining room.
“Shhh.” Megan held a forefinger over her lips to signal Anna that Emma was finally about to nod off. Megan waited and watched as Emma’s eyes fluttered closed and Lelani gently eased the limp baby down into the playpen set up in a corner of the living room. Lelani pushed a dark lock of hair away from Emma’s forehead, tucked a fuzzy pink blanket over her, then finally stood up straight and sighed.
“Looks like she’s down for the count,” Megan whispered.
Lelani nodded. “Now, where were we with dates?”
“If you still want to go with the second Saturday,” Megan spoke quietly, “Anna just suggested that it might be possible for me to attend two weddings in one day.”
“That’s a lot to ask of you,” Lelani said as they returned to the dining room, where Anna and Kendall were waiting expectantly with the calendar in the middle of the table and opened to June.
Megan shrugged as she pulled out a chair. “It’s your wedding, Lelani. You should have it the way you want it. I just want to help.”
Anna pointed to the second Saturday. “Okay, this is the date in question. Is it doable or not?”
Lelani sat down and sighed. “I’m willing to schedule my wedding so that it’s not a conflict with the other one. I mean, if it can even be done. Mostly I just wanted to wait until I finished spring term.”
“What time is Marcus’s sister’s wedding?” asked Anna.
“I’m not positive, but I think he said it was in the evening.” She reached for her phone.
“And you want a sunset wedding,” Kendall reminded Lelani.
“That’s true.” Anna nodded.
“But I also want Megan to be there,” Lelani pointed out.
“That would be helpful, since she’s your maid of honor,” said Anna.
Megan tried not to bristle at the tone of Anna’s voice. She knew that Anna had been put a little out of sorts by Lelani’s choice–especially considering that Anna was the sister of the groom–but to be fair, Megan was a lot closer to Lelani than Anna was. And at least they were all going to be in the wedding.
“Let me ask Marcus about the time,” Megan said as she pressed his speed-dial number and waited. “Hey, Marcus,” she said when he finally answered. “We’re having a scheduling problem here. Do you know what time Hannah’s wedding is going to be?”
“In the evening, I think,” Marcus said. “Do you need the exact time?”
“No, that’s good enough.” Megan gave Lelani a disappointed look. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“You’re not thinking of bailing on me, are you?” He sounded genuinely worried.
“No, but we’re trying to pin down a time and date for Lelani.”
“It’s just that I really want my family to meet you, Megan. I mean all of my family. And I want you to meet them too.”
“I know, and I plan to go with you.”
“Thanks. So, I’ll see you around six thirty tonight?”
“That’s right.” Megan told him good-bye, then turned to Lelani with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” she told her. “That wedding’s at night too. Maybe I should blow off my family reunion so that you–”
“No.” Anna pointed to the calendar. “I just realized that the first Saturday in June is also my mother’s birthday.”
“So?” Kendall shrugged. “What’s wrong with that?”
Megan laughed. “Think about it, Kendall, how would you like to share your wedding anniversary with your mother-in-law’s birthday?”
Kendall grinned. “Oh, yeah. Maybe not.”
“How about a Sunday wedding?” suggested Megan.
“Sunday?” Lelani’s brow creased slightly as she weighed this.
“Sunday might make it easier to book the location,” Kendall said. “I mean, since most weddings are usually on Saturdays, and June is a pretty busy wedding month.”
“That’s true,” agreed Megan.
“And you gotta admit that this is short notice for planning a wedding,” added Kendall. “Some people say you should start planning your wedding a whole year ahead of time.”
“Marcus’s sister has been planning her wedding for more than a year,” Megan admitted. “Marcus says that Hannah is going to be a candidate for the Bridezillas show if she doesn’t lighten up.”
They all laughed.
“Well, there’s no way Gil and I are going to spend a year planning a wedding.” Lelani shook her head. “That’s fine for some people, but we’re more interested in our marriage than we are in our wedding.”
“I hear you.” Kendall laughed and patted her slightly rounded belly. She was in her fifth month of the pregnancy. They all knew that she and her Maui man, Killiki, were corresponding regularly, but despite Kendall’s high hopes there’d been no proposal.
“I really don’t see why it should take a year to plan a wedding,” Megan admitted. “I think that’s just the wedding industry’s way of lining their pockets.”
“So how much planning time do you have now anyway?” Kendall asked Lelani. “Like three months?”
“Not even.” Lelani flipped the calendar pages back. “It’s barely two now.”
“Which is why we need to nail this date today,” Megan said. “Even though it’s a small wedding–”
“And that remains to be seen,” Anna reminded her. “My mother’s list keeps growing and growing and growing.”
“I still think it might be easier to just elope,” Lelani reminded them. “I told Gil that I wouldn’t have a problem with that at all.”
“Yes, that would be brilliant.” Anna firmly shook her head. “You can just imagine how absolutely thrilled Mom would be about that little idea.”
Lelani smiled. “I actually thought she’d be relieved.”
“That might’ve been true a few months ago. But Mom’s changing.” Anna poked Lelani in the arm. “In fact, I’m starting to feel jealous. I think she likes you better than me now.”
Lelani giggled. “In your dreams, Anna. Your mother just puts up with me so she can have access to Emma.”
They all laughed about that. Everyone knew that Mrs. Mendez was crazy about her soon-to-be granddaughter. Already she’d bought Emma all kinds of clothes and toys and seemed totally intent on spoiling the child rotten.
“Speaking of Emma”–Kendall shook her finger–“Mrs. Mendez is certain that she’s supposed to have her on Monday. But I thought it was my day.”
“I’m not sure,” Lelani admitted. “But I’ll call and find out.”
“And while you’ve got Granny on the line,” continued Kendall, “tell her that I do know how to change diapers properly. One more diaper lecture and I might just tape a Pamper over that big mouth of hers. Sheesh!”
They all laughed again. Since coming home from Maui, Kendall had been complaining about how Mrs. Mendez always seemed to find fault with Kendall’s childcare abilities. In fact, Mrs. Mendez had spent the first week “teaching” Kendall the “proper” way to do almost everything.
To be fair, Megan didn’t blame the older woman. Megan had been a little worried about Kendall too. But to everyone’s surprise, Kendall turned out to be rather maternal. Whether it had to do with her own pregnancy or a hidden talent, Megan couldn’t decide, but Kendall’s skill had been a huge relief.
“Now, back to the wedding date,” said Lelani.
“Yes,” agreed Megan. “What about earlier on Saturday?”
“Oh, no,” Anna said. “I just remembered that I promised Edmond I’d go to his brother’s bar mitzvah on that same day–I think it’s in the morning.”
Lelani groaned.
“Edmond’s brother?” Megan frowned. “I thought he was an only child. And since when is he Jewish?”
“Remember, his mom remarried,” Anna told her. “And Philip Goldstein, her new husband, is Jewish, and he has a son named Ben whose bar mitzvah is that Saturday.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Lelani.”
“So Saturday morning is kaput,” Megan said.
“And Lelani wanted a sunset wedding anyway,” Anna repeated.
“So why can’t you have a sunset wedding on Sunday?” Kendall suggested.
“That’s an idea.” Megan turned back to Lelani. “What do you think?”
Lelani nodded. “I think that could work.”
“And here’s another idea!” Anna exclaimed. “If the wedding was on Sunday night, you could probably have the reception in the restaurant afterward. I’m guessing it would be late by the time the wedding was over, and Sunday’s not exactly a busy night.”
Lelani looked hopeful. “Do you think your parents would mind?”
“Mind? Are you kidding? That’s what my mother lives for.”
“But we still don’t have a place picked for the wedding,” Megan said.
“I have several outdoor locations in mind. I’ll start checking on them tomorrow.”
“We’ll have to pray that it doesn’t rain.” Megan penned ‘Lelani and Gil’s Wedding’ in her date book, then closed it.
“Should there be a backup plan?” asked Anna. “I’m sure my parents could have the wedding at their house.”
“Or here,” suggested Kendall. “You can use this house if you want.”
Anna frowned. “It’s kind of small, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s sweet of Kendall to offer.” Lelani smiled at Kendall.
“I can imagine a bride coming down those stairs,” Kendall nodded toward the staircase. “I mean, if it was a small wedding.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Lelani told her. “And your parents’ house too.”
“It might be tricky getting a church reserved on a Sunday night,” Megan looked at the clock. “And speaking of that, I better get ready. Marcus is picking me up for the evening service in about fifteen minutes.” She turned back to Lelani. “Don’t worry. I’ve got my to-do list and I’ll start checking on some of this stuff tomorrow. My mom will want to help with the flowers.”
“And my aunt wants to make the cake,” Anna reminded them.
“Sounds like you’re in good hands,” Kendall sad a bit wistfully. “I wonder how it would go if I was planning my wedding.”
“You’d be in good hands too,” Lelani assured her.
“Now, let’s start going over that guest list,” Anna said as Megan stood up. “The sooner we get it finished, the less chance my mother will have of adding to it.” Megan was relieved that Anna had offered to handle the invitations. She could have them printed at the publishing company for a fraction of the price that a regular printer would charge, and hopefully she’d get them sent out in the next couple of weeks.
As Megan changed from her weekend sweats into something presentable, she wondered what would happen with Lelani’s parents when it was time for the big event. Although her dad had promised to come and was already committed to paying Lelani’s tuition to finish med school, Lelani’s mom was still giving Lelani the cold shoulder. Make that the ice shoulder. For a woman who lived in the tropics, Mrs. Porter was about as chilly as they come. Still, Lelani had friends to lean on. Maybe that was better than family at times.
“Your prince is here,” Kendall called into Megan’s room.
“Thanks.” Megan was looking for her other loafer and thinking it was time to organize her closet again. “Tell him I’m coming.”
When Megan came out, Marcus was in the dining room, chatting with her housemates like one of the family. He was teasing Anna for having her hair in curlers, then joking with Kendall about whether her Maui man had called her today.
“Not yet,” Kendall told him with a little frown. “But don’t forget the time-zone thing. It’s earlier there.”
“Speaking of time zones,” Lelani said to Marcus. “Did I hear you’re actually thinking about going to Africa?”
Marcus grinned and nodded. “Yeah, Greg Mercer, this guy at our church, is trying to put together a mission trip to Zambia. I might go too.”
“Wow, that’s a long ways away.” Kendall turned to Megan. “How do you feel about that?”
Megan shrugged as she pulled on her denim jacket. “I think it’s cool.”
“Are you coming with us to church tonight, Kendall?” Marcus asked. “Greg is going to show a video about Zambia.”
“Sorry to miss that,” Kendall told him. “But Killiki is supposed to call.”
“Ready to roll?” Megan nodded up to the clock.
He grinned at her. “Yep.” But before they went out, he turned around. “That is, unless anyone else wants to come tonight.”
Lelani and Anna thanked him but said they had plans. Even so, Megan was glad he’d asked. It was nice when Kendall came with them occasionally. And Lelani had come once too. Really, it seemed that God was at work at 86 Bloomberg Place. Things had changed a lot since last fall.
“So are you nervous?” Marcus asked as he drove toward the city.
“Nervous?” Megan frowned. “About church?”
“No. The big interview.”
Megan slapped her forehead. “Wow, I temporarily forgot. We were so obsessed with Lelani’s wedding today, trying to make lists, plan everything, and settle the date … I put the interview totally out of my mind.”
“Hopefully, it won’t be out of your mind by Monday.”
“No, of course not.”
“So … are you nervous?”
Megan considered this. It would be her first interview for a teaching job. And it was a little unsettling. “The truth is, I don’t think I have a chance at the job,” she admitted. “And, yes, I’m nervous. Thanks for reminding me.”
“Sorry. Why don’t you think you’ll get the job?”
“Because I don’t have any actual teaching experience.” She wanted to add duh, but thought it sounded a little juvenile.
“Everyone has to start somewhere.”
“But starting in middle school, just a couple of months before the school year ends? Don’t you think they’ll want someone who knows what they’re doing?”
“Unless they want someone who’s enthusiastic and energetic and smart and creative and who likes kids and had lots of great new ideas and–”
“Wow, any chance you could do the interview in my place?”
“Cross-dress and pretend I’m you?”
She laughed. “Funny.”
“Just have confidence, Megan. Believe in yourself and make them believe too. You’d be great as a middle-school teacher.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because I remember middle school.”
“And?”
“And most of my teachers were old and dull and boring.”
“That’s sad.”
“And I would’ve loved having someone like you for a teacher.”
“Really?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. If I was thirteen, I’d probably sit right in the front row and think about how hot you were, and then I’d start fantasizing about–”
“Marcus Barrett, you’re pathetic.” Just the same, she laughed.
“What can I say? I’m just a normal, warm-blooded, American kid.”
“Give me a break!” She punched him in the arm.
“Is that your phone?” he asked as he was parking outside of the church.
“Oh, yeah, a good reminder to turn it off.” She pulled it out to see it was Kendall. Megan hoped nothing was wrong. “Hey, Kendall,” she said as Marcus set the parking brake. “What’s up?”
“Guess what?” shrieked Kendall.
“I have no idea what, but it sounds like good news.” She stepped out of the car.
“Killiki just called.”
“That’s nice.”
“And he asked me to marry him!”
Megan raised her eyebrows and looked at Marcus as he came around to meet her. “And you said yes?”
“Of course! Do you think I’m crazy?”
“No. Not at all. Congratulations, Kendall. I mean, I guess that’s what you say.”
“So now we have two weddings to plan.”
Megan blinked. She walked with Marcus toward the church entry. “Oh, yeah, I guess we do.”
“And I’m getting married in June too!”
“That’s great, Kendall. I’m really, really happy for you. And Killiki seems like a great guy.”
“He is! Anyway, we just looked at the calendar again. And we finally figured that I should just get married the same day as Lelani, only I’ll get married in the morning. That way we’ll all be able to go to both weddings.”
“Wow, the same day?”
“Otherwise, you’ll be at your reunion or Marcus’s sister’s wedding. Or Anna will be at the bar mitzvah. Or Lelani and Gil will be on their honeymoon.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“And I want all of you there!”
“Yes, I suppose that makes sense.”
“It’ll be busy, but fun.”
“Definitely.” Then Megan thanked Kendall for telling her, and they said good-bye. Megan closed her phone and just shook her head. “Wow.”
“Kendall’s getting married?” asked Marcus as he held the church door open for her.
“Yes. Can you believe it?”
“Good for her.”
“And her wedding will be the same weekend as your sister’s and the same day as Lelani’s.”
Marcus held up three fingers and wore a perplexed expression. “Three weddings in one weekend? That’s crazy.”
“Yep.” Megan nodded. “Three weddings and a bar mitzvah.”
“Huh?” Marcus looked confused, but they were in the sanctuary, and Megan knew she’d have to explain later.
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult.
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns. The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.
Come, behold the works of the Lord; see what desolations he has brought on the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire. “Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations. I am exalted in the earth.” The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.
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!
As an award-winning author, Mary Connealy lives on a Nebraska farm with her husband and is the mother of four grown daughters. She writes plays and shorts stories, and is the author of two other novels, Petticoat Ranch and Calico Canyon. Also an avid blogger, Mary is a GED instructor by day and an author by night. For more information on Mary Connealy, visit her Web site at .
List Price: $10.97
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Barbour Books (September 1, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1602601453
ISBN-13: 978-1602601451
ISLAND BREEZES
This one is certainly a keeper! I thoroughly enjoyed this book and Mary Connealy’s characters. This author has a serious sense of humor. She wrote this novel quite differently from any I’ve read before. All through the book, the main characters of Annie and Elijah are shown saying one thing and thinking another. This made them so much more realistic. You will enjoy reading about the ins and outs of getting these two to and through the Christmas holiday.
It’s warm. It’s funny. It’s frustrating. It’s romantic. It’s mysterious. It’s all the things of life. I would really like to read more about these two, but if there’s no plans for a continuation of this story, I still want to read more Mary Connealy novels.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
A mining camp in Missouri, November, 1879
“You’ll wear that dress, Songbird.” Claude Leveque grabbed Annette Talbot’s arm, lifted her to her toes, and shoved her backward.
Annie tripped over a chair and cried out as it toppled. The chair scraped her legs and back. Her head hit the wall of the tiny, windowless shack, and stars exploded in her eyes.
Stunned by the pain, she hit the floor, and an animal instinct sent her scrambling away from Claude. But there was nowhere to go in the twelve-by-twelve-foot cabin.
Her head cleared enough to tell her there was no escape, so she fought with will and faith. “Never.” Propping herself up on her elbows, she faced him and shouted her defiance. “I will never go out in public in that dress.”
“You’ll sing what I tell you to sing.” Claude, in his polished suit and tidily trimmed hair, looked every inch civilized—or he had, until tonight. Now he strode toward her, eyes shooting furious fire, his face twisted into soul-deep rot and sin.
“I sing as a mission.” Annie tried to press her back through the unyielding log wall. “I sing hymns. That’s the only thing—”
A huge fist closed over the front of her blouse, and Claude lifted her like a rag doll to eye level, but he didn’t strike.
He would. He’d proved that several times over since he’d come here with his disgusting demands.
She braced herself. She’d die first. Claude might not believe that, but he’d know before long.
“So, you’re willing to die for your beliefs, heh?” Claude’s fist tightened on her blouse, cutting off Annie’s air.
“Yes!” She could barely speak, but he heard. He knew.
“Are you willing to watch someone else die, Songbird? Maybe your precious friend, Elva?” He shook her and her head snapped back. “I can always find another piano player.”
“No!” Annie had to save Elva. Somehow. Of course Elva would be threatened. Annie hadn’t had time to think that far.
Elva would never stand for this. Elva would die for her beliefs, too.
A wicked laugh escaped from Claude’s twisted mouth. “She’s easily replaced. But I’ll never”—he shook her viciously—“find another singer like you.”
How had it come to this? God help me. Protect Elva and me.
“My answer is no! Elva wouldn’t play the piano for me if I wore that.” Her eyes went to the slattern’s dress hanging, vivid red, near the door. “She would refuse to play the piano for those vulgar songs.”
“We’ll see, Songbird.” Claude laughed again.
Annie saw the evil in him, the hunger to hurt. He wasn’t just hurting Annie to get his way. He was enjoying it. Her vision dimmed and blurred as she clawed at his strangling fist.
“I’ll go have a talk with your frail old friend and then we’ll see.” He shoved Annie backward, slamming her against the wall.
She hit so hard her knees buckled. What little air she still had was knocked away.
Claude charged out, shutting the door behind him.
Annie heard the sound of a padlock snicking shut as she slumped sideways.
She became aware of her surroundings with no idea how much time had passed. In the falling darkness, she could barely make out blood dripping down the front of her dress. Tears diluted the blood and she wept.
“Do something, idiot! You can’t just sit here crying.”
Annie proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was indeed an idiot by burying her face in her hands and sobbing her heart out. The tears burned. She swiped at them and flinched from the pain in her blackened eye.
Shuddering, she lifted her battered face from her hands and looked at the dress. It seemed to glow in the dim light, as if the very fires of the devil gave it light. Indecent, vivid red silk with black fringe. No bodice worth mentioning, the front hem cut up nearly to the knees. The garment was horrible and disgusting, and Annie’s shudders deepened. She shouted at the walls of the tiny, solidly locked cabin, “I won’t do it!”
Claude had known before he’d asked that Annie would never wear that sinful dress and sing those bawdy songs. Touching gingerly her throbbing, swollen cheek, Annie pulled her hand away and saw blood. Her lip was split, her nose bleeding. She knew Claude’s fists had been more for his own cruel pleasure than any attempt at coercion.
“Beat me to death if you want,” she yelled at the door. “I will never again perform onstage for you!” She felt strong, righteous. Ready to die for her faith.
Then she thought of Elva. Annie’s elderly accompanist was maybe, right now, being punished because Annie hadn’t fallen in line.
Claude’s cruel threats rang in her ears even with him gone.
For all her utter commitment to refusing the Leveques and singing only her beloved hymns, how could Annie watch Elva be hurt? Could Annie stand on principle while Elva was beaten?
The welts on Annie’s arm, in the perfect shape of Claude Leveque’s viselike hand, along with Annie’s swollen eye and bleeding lip, proved the hateful man knew how to inflict pain. He’d proved he had no compunction in hurting a helpless woman.
Noise outside her prison brought Annie to her feet. He was coming back! Annie was sick to think what the couple would do to the elderly woman who had spent her older years worshipping God with music.
Sick with fear that they’d force Annie to watch Elva being battered, Annie clenched her fists and prayed. God would never agree that Annie should wear that tart’s dress, sing vile, suggestive songs, and flash her legs for drunken men.
But Elva!
Please, Lord, guide me though this dark valley.
A key rattled in the doorway.
Annie braced herself. If she could get past Claude, she would run, find Elva, and get away. Go somewhere, somehow. Throw herself on the mercy of the men in this logging camp—the very ones Claude said would pay to see that dreadful harlot’s gown.
The wooden door of the secluded, one-room shack swung hard and crashed against the wall. Elva fell onto her knees, clutching her chest. “You have to run!” Elva, eyes wild with terror, lifted her head. Annie saw Elva’s face was battered; a cut on her cheek bled freely.
Expecting Claude and Blanche to be right behind the gray-haired woman, Annie rushed forward and dropped to Elva’s side. “Elva, what did they do to you?”
“I heard. . .I heard Claude making plans, awful plans for you. He caught me eavesdropping. He thought he’d knocked me cold, but I lay still and waited until he left. He’d hung the key on a nail, and I stole it and slipped away to set you free.” Elva staggered to her feet, every breath echoed with pain. She stretched out a shaking hand, and Annie saw Elva’s black velvet reticule. The one the sweet pianist, who made Annie’s voice sound as pretty as a meadowlark, carried always. “There’s money. All I’ve saved.” Elva coughed, cutting off her words. She breathed as if it hurt. “T–Take it and go. There’s a wagon. It’s already left, but run, catch it. Ride to town. Enough.” Coughing broke her voice again and Elva’s knees wobbled. She clung tight to Annie. “Enough for one train ticket.”
Annie realized what Elva was saying. “No, I won’t leave you.”
“It’s my heart.” Elva sagged sideways, clutching her chest. Annie couldn’t hold her dead weight, slight though Elva was. They both lowered to the floor. “When Claude landed his first blow, I felt my heart give out. Oh, Annie, the things he threatened for you. The evil, ugly words from a serpent’s mouth. My precious girl. Run. You must run.”
“I won’t leave you. They’ll kill you, Elva.”
“No. My heart. I’ve felt it coming for months and tonight’s the end. They can’t harm me anymore.”
“Elva, don’t talk like that.” Tears wanted to fall, but Annie had no time for such weakness. “You’re all I have!”
“Your father. Go home.”
“He doesn’t want me. You know that.”
Elva’s hand closed over the already bruised place on Annie’s wrist. Elva clearly saw what Annie had already suffered at Claude’s hands. “Go. There’s no time. What they want from you is a fate worse than death.”
Annie gasped. Those words could mean only one thing. She glanced at the indecent dress. A harlot’s dress.
“God is calling me home, my beautiful girl. He’s taking me b–because He knows you’d never leave me. God in heaven is rescuing us both. I’ll go home and so will you. I believe that.”
Annie looked into Elva’s eyes, and even now they clouded over.
“Go. Please. It’s my fault you’re in this place. I thought we’d bring the Lord to these people with your beautiful singing. I convinced you to stay when the Leveques took over. If you stay I will have died for nothing, Sw–Sweet Annie.”
Elva’s grip tightened until Annie nearly cried out in pain. Then as quickly as the spasm had come, it was gone.
And so was Elva. She sank, lifeless, to the floor.
Annie saw the very moment Elva’s spirit left her body—a heartbreaking, beautiful moment, because now Elva was beyond pain.
But Annie wasn’t.
“If you stay I will have died for nothing.”
A loud snap of a twig jerked Annie’s head around. She gazed into the nearby woods surrounding the sequestered shack she’d been locked in. The Leveques were coming.
“What they want from you is a fate worse than death.”
As if God Himself sent lightning to jolt her, Annie clutched Elva’s reticule, leaped to her feet, and ran.
“There’s a wagon. It’s already left, but run, catch it. Ride to town.”
Annie gained the cover of the woods and, without looking back, began moving with painstaking silence.
She heard Claude’s shout of rage when he discovered the cabin door ajar.
Poor Elva. No one to bury her. No one to make her funeral a testimony to her life of faith.
Annie hated herself for running away. It was cowardly. There had to be some way to stay and pay proper respect, see to a decent Christian burial. Every decent part of herself said, “Go back. Face this.”
She kept moving. Elva had insisted on it. Common sense confirmed it. God whispered it in her heart to move, hurry, be silent.
Silence was her only weapon and Annie used it. She’d learned silence in the mountains growing up, slipping up on a deer or an elk. Slipping away from a bear or a cougar.
As much as Annie had loved her mountain home, she’d never learned to hunt. Pa fed the family. But she loved the woods and was skilled in their use.
Heading for the trail to town, she was careful to get close enough to not lose her way but stay off to the side.
Not long after she’d started out, she saw Claude storming down the trail toward town. He’d catch the wagon Elva spoke of long before she did. And, she hoped, insist on searching it. Once Claude assured himself that Annie wasn’t there, she’d have her chance.
Annie felt the bite of the cool night air. She heard an owl hoot in the darkness. The rustle of the leaves covered tiny sounds she might make as she eased along. She knew the trail. She knew the night. She knew the woods.
Yesterday was the first day of autumn, but I have a hard time wrapping my mind around that. Here on the island, the temperature still is up in the low 90s. Down here fall is just a little cooling from the summer. I hear people talk about missing the change of seasons that they went through up north.
Personally, I’m happy to give up the leaves falling off the tree season, the blustery snow season, the spring allergy season and the swimming pool season. In exchange, I gave up leaf raking, snow shoveling, sneezing like a mad woman and chlorine green hair. I don’t have to be cold, wear boots, slip, slide and fall. I can go to the beach all year round, even if I do have to wear a wind breaker a couple months during the year.
We do have seasons down here. They’re just different seasons. We have school bus season, snowbird season, road construction season and tourist season. During each season, I can escape to my island, sit under the palms and watch the beauty of the waves in motion. You all can enjoy your piles of colorful leaves while I enjoy my sun, sand, surf and colorful birds and rainbows.
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!
Aaron D. Taylor was raised in a Midwestern charismatic church with the belief that Christians had a duty to take up arms in defense of their government and the ideals of freedom. He supported our actions in Iraq and asserted that only one political party was the appropriate home for true believers of God. After a meeting in London with Khalid, a militant jihadist, Taylor came away with a deep questioning of the ideals that, up to that moment, formed a cornerstone for his theology. In Alone with a Jihadist, Aaron Taylor shares his personal revelation that Christians are not to be supporters of military or other violent solutions to the world’s problems.
List Price: $18.99
Paperback
Publisher: Foghorn Publishers (October 1, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1934466123
ISBN-13: 978-1934466124
ISLAND BREEZES
I’m still trying to digest this book. It is certainly thought provoking. It will make you question some of your world views. I doubt if one’s mindset can remain the same after reading this. 9/11 changed the way many Christians thought and believed. This author will turn much of that upside down for you. I think every person should read this book and use the insights contained therein to search his heart and mind.
This book takes you back to the saying, “What would Jesus do?” Read it and think about it.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
What have I gotten myself into this time? Here I was sitting across the table from Stephen Marshall, the director of a feature length documentary film called Holy War, a film examining the role of religion in the post 9/11 clash between the West and Islam. Stephen and I were sitting in an underground café in London discussing what I was about to do the next day. In less than 24 hours, I was about to be stuck in an abandoned warehouse for several hours with a radical jihadist who wanted to destroy me, my country, my religion, and every- thing else I held dear.
As a 28 year-old evangelist born and raised in Jefferson County Missouri, a rural county outside the suburbs of St. Louis, the idea of representing Western Civilization in an epic debate seemed a bit far-fetched. I imagined what the cultural elite in Europe would think if they knew a Christian missionary from the Bible Belt was their de facto representative for defending their civilization over and against Islamic civilization. The thought suddenly struck me as humorous. How in the world did I get here?
It all started when I was a young child attending a missionary conference at my charismatic mega-church. As long as I can remember, I’ve always had a knack for adventure and a zeal for the things of God. When I was between the ages of 8 and 10, my church invited missionaries from all over the world to display exhibits and share about their ministries at an event they called the World Harvest Conference. Seeing the missionaries dressed in exotic costumes and hearing their stories made me want to “abandon it all for the sake of the call” just as they had done. For a young child who rarely traveled, the prospect of spending my life in a far away place and learning another language captured my imagination and gave me a vision for the future. By the time my uncle Charlie took his first trip to Africa, I was hooked. I knew I wanted to be a missionary too.
My first missionary trip was in 1993 to the country of Poland. A missionary from our church named Jack Harris was scheduled to conduct an evangelistic crusade in the town of Wroclaw, so he decided to take a group of select young people from our church’s youth group to help advertise the meetings during the day, and most importantly, get a taste of the mission field. For days our team did mimes on the streets and invited people to come to an evangelistic crusade at night. One afternoon as we were all resting in our hotel rooms, I read a book by evangelist Mike Francen called A Quest for Souls. Francen was personally trained under the legendary T.L. Osborn and saw many of the same miracles that T.L. and his wife Daisy had seen throughout their 50-years of ministry together. For a 15 year old raised in the charismatic movement, looking at pictures of 100,000 people lifting their hands to receive Jesus as Savior was like an adolescent baseball player looking at a picture of Babe Ruth knocking the ball out of Yankee Stadium. For me, the choice was very simple. How could I stay in America and preach the gospel to those who have already heard when there are millions of people around the world who have never had a chance to hear the gospel once? From that day forward, I decided to dedicate my life to becoming a world evangelist.
As soon as I graduated from high school, I was out the door and ready to change the world. During my formative years, my parents made tremendous financial sacrifices to put my brothers and me through Christian school, so we never really traveled much. But now that I had the freedom to determine my future, I found myself traveling to places far and wide. Places I never in my wildest imagination dreamed I would ever go. Places such as India, China, Tibet, Vietnam, Cambodia, Uganda, Grenada, and Laos. Some of these countries were places where those who decide to follow Jesus often pay a terrible price of suffering and persecution and, yet, the joy on their faces reinforced to me that following Jesus is worth the cost, no matter what the cost may be.
In October of 2000, I met my beautiful wife Rhiannon in Dallas, Texas while we were attending the School of Missions at Christ for the Nations Institute. My wife and I were married on October 6th, 2001, approximately three weeks after 9/11. Shortly after we were married, we decided that we wanted to put our missionary training to use by taking the gospel to those of the Muslim faith. We wanted to minister in a country that has a Muslim majority, but also enjoys religious freedom; so after a year and a half of quiet and peaceful suburban living, we packed our bags and moved to the country of Senegal, located in West Africa.
While in Senegal we labored, we cried, we prayed, and we met a lot of fascinating people along the way. Most of our family and friends thought that we were crazy evangelizing Muslims, especially since this was shortly after 9/11, but the fact is our interaction with Muslims was entirely peaceful. Not once did we come across someone who hated us and wanted us out of the country. Although God allowed us a measure of success in Senegal, sometimes life throws curve balls. After 16 short months of missionary living, my wife and I moved back to the U.S. to help my mother-in-law who eventually died of cancer in March of 2005.
It wasn’t long before I was off traveling the world again. This time I found myself traveling to Pakistan—a place largely overrun by radical jihadists sympathetic to the likes of people like Osama bin Laden. Neither my wife nor I wanted to be a prime target for kidnapping or execution, so we decided to concentrate our ministry primarily on the Christian minority, encouraging them in their faith and equipping them with Bibles and other tools for witness and evangelism.
It was shortly after my first trip to Pakistan that I met Stephen Marshall. One day as I was checking my e-mail, I noticed an ad I had previously overlooked in a mass e-mail for missionary mobilizers. The headline read, “Hollywood Production Company looking for a young missionary who travels the world to participate in a feature-length documentary.” A few days before I saw the e-mail, I already felt I had a direction from the Lord to begin engaging secular media with the gospel, so when Stephen responded to my reply a few days later, I was pleasantly surprised—and overwhelmed. Representing a Christian perspective to the secular media is a tall order, especially when you don’t have any control over the editing process. Almost immediately after I got off the phone with Stephen I wondered if I’d bitten off more than I can chew.
Unfortunately for me, there was little time for second-guessing. Within a few short weeks, Stephen came to my home to interview me and ask me just about every question under the sun regarding my faith, family, and political views. The last thing I wanted to do was to isolate myself unnecessarily from those outside the conservative evangelical fold, so I tried to be as diplomatic as possible when Stephen asked me questions about 9/11, the Iraq War, free-market capitalism, George Bush, and the Republican Party. Little did I know that the microscopic examination of my faith, on that weekend was only the tip of the iceberg. There was still much, much more to come.
Within a few short months, Stephen traveled with me to Pakistan to observe my preaching and to get a first-hand look at the oppression of Christians in a nation largely populated with radical Muslims. It was during the trip to Pakistan that Stephen began speaking to me about a very outspoken jihadist who lived in London named Khalid. I had seen Khalid on CNN and knew that he was an Irish convert to Islam who had grown up in a Catholic family. After the trip to Pakistan, I honestly thought my role in the film was over. In my mind, I had behaved like a good Christian and had a rare opportunity to expose the plight of the Pakistani Christians to the world.
Little did I know that a few months later, after delivering a sermon at a Pentecostal church in Brazil, a man would walk up to me and tell me that I was supposed to go to London before the end of the year and that, if I would go, then God would give me a great victory. Taking this as a word from God, I thought that maybe I could go and talk to Khalid, find out how he thinks and see if I could persuade him to accept the way and teachings of Christ. It wasn’t long before the producers caught wind of the story and decided to set up a meeting between the two of us for the purpose of capturing the conversation on film.
I don’t think words can describe the pressure I felt during the two days of what turned out to be an intense debate with Khalid. Not only did I have to make my case for Christ to Khalid, I also knew that I had to be a faithful representative of Christ to the average non-Christian watching the film, many of whom are already convinced in their minds that those who hold to a fundamental belief in Scripture are destined to drag the world into a premature Apocalypse. To top it off, I knew there were American soldiers in Iraq in harm’s way and the last thing I wanted to do was to dishonor their service. The fact that the weather was unusually cold and gloomy, and that we were meeting in an old abandoned warehouse, made the atmosphere tense from the start. When Khalid walked into the room with his fiery eyes, intense gaze, and a grey t-shirt with the words “Soldier of Allah” written on the front, I knew the next few hours were not going to be a picnic.
The meeting didn’t quite go as I expected.
It took all about two minutes for me to realize there wasn’t going to be the Dr. Phil moment I had imagined with me helping Khalid to see that deep down inside there’s an inner child waiting to be loved. Within no time, Khalid began venting all of his anger, frustration, and rage against my religion, my country, Western Civilization—and me. In the beginning, I did my utmost to keep the conversation on a theological level. Having lived in a Muslim country and studied the basic tenets of Islam, I knew how to engage Muslims in friendly conversation regarding the merits of Christian belief. Most Muslims I had met up until this point were surprisingly generous about their view of the Bible and the fate of Christians on judgment day. Khalid, on the other hand, made no apology for his belief that every single Christian who has ever lived is heading straight for hell. The way Khalid raged about Iraq, Afghanistan, George Bush, and Tony Blair, I was sure that, in Khalid’s mind, the hottest flames in hell are reserved for those who put them in office.
The most frustrating part for me was the more I tried to shift the conversation to theological matters, the more determined Khalid was to condemn the evils of Western Civilization and, in particular, U.S. foreign policy. After sitting and listening for what seemed like hours, besides the occasional interjection here and there, I finally decided to engage Khalid on one of the primary moral objections to political Islam, and that’s the issue of religious freedom. For years I’ve felt that there’s a double standard in the liberal media when it comes to the issue of religious freedom in the Islamic world. I always get annoyed when I read news- magazines or hear cable news commentators herald a country like Malaysia as an Islamic paradise for democracy when I know full well that ethnic Malays who decide to switch their religion from Islam to Christianity (or any other religion for that matter) have historically faced imprisonment, torture, and the threat of execution.
Ready for a good debate, I finally stopped Khalid in mid-sentence and blurted out, “Freedom of religion in Islam is a façade. There is no such thing as freedom of religion in Islam.”
Expecting to hear a rebuttal, I was genuinely taken aback when Khalid so nonchalantly replied, “No there’s not. We don’t believe in freedom and democracy. We believe democracy is just a manifestation of man-made law.”
Freedom and democracy equals man-made law? As an American culturally conditioned to think of the words “freedom” and “democracy” as inalienable rights endowed by our Creator, the idea that another human being could consciously reject these values was intriguing to me. The association of democracy with man-made law also had a ring of logic to it. After all, we all know that the U.S. Congress and the British Parliament don’t wait for a heavenly finger to write on tablets of stone before passing legislation. Still trying to keep the conversation on a theological level and with little time to think, I responded, “You see that’s the difference, because the Bible says in the New Testament, “The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life” (2 Corinthians 3:6).
Wasting no time, Khalid replied “Yes, but what does that mean? Nobody knows what that means. Not very clear.”
Not very clear? What’s not clear about living in freedom from legalistic rules and regulations? I thought perhaps I needed to state it another way.
“If society is going to change, then hearts have to change,” I said.
Khalid wasn’t buying it.
“You still haven’t described how you would implement the Bible as a way of life or in government. I’ll be honest with you. I’m gonna pin you down. I don’t think you can. I don’t think you can, because you can’t. With the Bible, how would you address the pedophilia, the prostitution, and the homosexuality from a governmental point of view? How would you address that? You’re in charge tomorrow all right? You are the president of the United States, how would you address these problems?”
How would I implement the Bible from a governmental point of view? Now that was a good question. In my mind, I could hear the calm reassuring voice of my senior pastor saying something like, “Now, Aaron. Remember that Christianity isn’t about trying to regulate society by setting up earthly governments. It’s about forgiveness of sins and a right relationship with God.”
“That’s right pastor,” I thought to myself “but that doesn’t really answer his question. If I’m going to make the claim that my faith is the right one, certainly I need to show that if everyone, or at least the vast majority of people, embraced my faith, then society would be better off. After all, there are moral implications to living out the gospel, and these implications aren’t limited to the private sphere.”
In my heart I knew that Khalid’s question was far from insignificant. Even though I knew the standard answer that the purpose for Jesus coming to earth was to die on the cross for our sins. Even though I knew that the gospel is about God’s love for sinners, not about sinners striving to achieve moral perfection. Even though I knew that the theme of the Bible is grace and redemption, not condemnation and legalism, there was something in Khalid’s question that caused my heart to sink. I knew that Khalid’s challenge wasn’t something I could dismiss lightly.
“First of all, as Christians, we want godly government.” I responded. Perhaps it was a lame answer, but it was all I could think of at the moment.
Unfortunately, Khalid didn’t have time for introspection. He wanted an answer right then and there.
“What is godly government? I don’t understand. What is godly government? How about a punishment system? Let’s pin you down. How about a punishment system? For example, what kind of punishment would you have for homosexuality?”
“That’s a good question because Jesus said, ‘He who is without sin let him cast the first stone.’ Jesus was going more for the heart on that one. Jesus showed that you can have law, but then what’s law without mercy?” I replied.
Khalid didn’t have time for moral philosophy. He wanted an answer.
“So you really don’t know what to do about it do you? That’s okay. I don’t expect you to know because the reason why you don’t know is because the answer is not in there. I wouldn’t expect you to know. Let me tell you what we do with homosexuals, okay? They are to be taken to the top of a mountain and thrown off and killed. It’s capital punishment. For the one who is an adulterer, if they are unmarried, a hundred lashes. If they’re married, stoned to death. This is Islamic Sharia. It’s comprehensive. I don’t expect you to know. I’m not trying to expose you. I’m trying to be honest with you because you are holding a completely corrupted message that doesn’t tell you what to do in these situations. So you shouldn’t know.”
At this point I was thinking Keep going Khalid. You are really hanging yourself here. As an evangelical Christian frustrated at how the media so often lumps my people into the same category as radical Islamists by throwing around the word fundamentalist, I wanted the potential audience to see what a real fundamentalist looks like, so I calmly replied,
“You say that homosexuals should be stoned and killed.”
“I didn’t say that. God says it.” Khalid replied in a matter of fact manner.
“I think that’s nuts because Jesus said, “He who is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone.”
Khalid took the bait.
“That’s why you are going to hellfire and I’m going to Paradise if I die as a Muslim and you die as a disbeliever. In Islam, you have to follow the message of Mohammed. I don’t want you to go to hell.”
I found it amusing that Khalid didn’t want me to go to hell. That was the reason why I was there, because I didn’t want him to go to hell. The problem was that I was cold, jet-lagged, and mild-tempered while Khalid was hot, awake, and ready for a fight. But the last thing I wanted to do was fight. I didn’t want the world to see two religious extremists at each other’s throats and I certainly didn’t want this to turn into a stereotypical match of “You’re going to hell” “No, You’re going to hell.” So I decided to put one of the principles of Stephen Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Effective People into practice. Seek first to understand, then to be under- stood. I decided to listen to what Khalid had to say—and Khalid wasted no time in saying it.
“I believe the Islamic arguments are stronger than the arguments for Christianity. Only because I’ve studied them both. And when I read the Koran, believe me Aaron, I swear to God, from my heart to your heart. I just read it and, I was a little bit angry at first. At first, I said, how come this was kept away from me? Who kept this away from me for all of my life and let me lead a miserable existence for 34 years without knowing the truth? Let me think that alcohol is okay, let me do whatever I want because of vicarious atonement. One man gets slaughtered on a cross by the Jews and, all of the sudden; everybody can do whatever they want. Pedophiles, Homosexuals, do whatever you want. No individual responsibility. No consequences for your actions. That’s what your belief hinges on.”
One man gets slaughtered on the cross by the Jews and, all of the sudden; everybody can do whatever they want? No individual responsibility? No consequences for your actions? That’s what my belief hinges on? I knew that the picture Khalid was painting was a gross distortion of the Christian faith, but at this point, it really didn’t matter. Khalid had a preconceived notion in his mind about what I believed and there was little I could do to change his perception. Finally I said:
“You talk a lot about the ideal society, you say that Mohammed is the final prophet, Islam is the true religion because it gives a comprehensive guide to life that’s politically and economically sufficient. I would dispute you in saying the Bible doesn’t give a comprehensive guide to life. I would dispute you in saying that, because the Bible does have a lot to say about government. The Bibles does have a lot to say about, not only outward righteousness, but inward righteousness. So, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean that I as a Christian can’t look in my Bible and see everything that I need to know to live a righteous life.”
Khalid’s reply was very revealing.
“But, Aaron. I don’t need to look at the book. I can look outside the door at your own society. I can see the prostitution. I can see the adultery. I can see the cheating. I can see the moneymakers, the interest, and the society. Every evil, the pedophilia, the homosexuals allowed to run rife. Nothing is addressed. Evil is allowed to run rampant, okay? And you just keep propagating peace and love and all that sort of thing and it’s not really good enough. And, as I say, I don’t have to look at the book. I just have to look outside the door. I can see a manifestation of everything in there. Everything bad in your society.”
The one thing I appreciated about Khalid was that he made it easy for me to summarize his moral arguments. Christianity is evil because Western Civilization is evil. The two are inextricably linked. Now that Khalid was on a role, he decided to shift the conversation to politics. That’s when things started to get interesting.
“In the last election, you come from America right? Who did you
vote for? Did you vote for anybody?”
A bit caught off guard, I answered, “Well, yes I did, but let me ask you a question.”
Khalid cut me off mid sentence.
“It’s a simple question. You did vote for somebody? And what do the people that you vote for do? Explain what they do. Look I’m gonna tell you right? I’m gonna tell you what the people you vote for do. They make law and order. They don’t make ice cream. In the House of Representatives and the House of Commons here. They make law and order. They decide what’s forbidden and they decide what’s allowed. This is called man-made law. Now, do you think God wants us to live by His law or man made law? He wants us to live by His comprehensive law and order. He always did. Why do you think Jesus was persecuted? Because He spoke out against the George Bushes and the Tony Blairs of His day. He was called a fundamentalist, terrorist, and an extremist, new laws of terrorism brought in. So He’s arrested, tortured. Is this starting to sound familiar? It should to you, because it’s what’s happening to Muslims today. Whenever a messenger was sent and he changed the whole of society, he was always terrorized, persecuted, and imprisoned. This is a sign of the people that are speaking the truth. And we believe that man-made law is a big disease. So you’re saying that you believe in the law of God and you want to be obedient, but yet you’re voting for people like George Bush who are mere men.”
“Jesus was an Islamic Fundamentalist?” I thought to myself, “Now that’s one for the loony bin.” The Koran was written approximately 600 years after the events surrounding the life and ministry of Jesus, which is why no serious historian accepts that Jesus was a Muslim, unless they accept it by blind faith. According to the Koran, Jesus wasn’t a friend to sinners, nor did He actually die on a wooden cross. In the Koran, Jesus was a Muslim who prayed five times a day facing Mecca, fasted during the month of Ramadan, and made it his aim to implement the Divine Sharia on the whole of society. The problem with this idea is that both the Bible and history agree that Jesus was a threat to the religious establishment of His day. Khalid obviously had it backwards, but the fact that he had it backwards underscored something very revealing about the historical Jesus in my mind. The people that Jesus condemned the most were the Pharisees—the ones who ruled over others in the name of God with the power of the State behind them. In a strange way, Khalid’s crazy idea served to reinforce the point that he was making. The Jesus of the gospels left us with neither a legal system nor a socio-economic system for creating an ideal society.
Now that Khalid knew he had my attention, he decided to walk me through the finer points of his worldview as a maestro would with an inquisitive pupil.
“Islam is not religion; you probably think Islam is a religion. It’s not. It’s a pure divine belief. Comprehensive. We had a divine social system, economic system, political system, private system, and a system of what to do when somebody invades your land, what to do when somebody invades your home. We’re onto the
concept which a lot of people are talking about today, the issue of fighting or jihad in Islam. Jihad in Islam is one of the things that protect the Muslims around the world.”
“So jihad is primarily defensive?” I thought to myself, “Does that include 9/11?”
Khalid and I had an extensive debate on that one—and a host of other topics. For hours upon hours for two days straight Khalid and I went back and forth on just about every topic imaginable: the prophethood of Muhammad, the crucifixion, the divinity of Jesus, the inspiration of Scripture, Osama bin Laden, Iraq, Afghanistan, the War on Terror, democracy, freedom of religion, the role of women, the persecution of Christians in Muslim lands, the finer points of Sharia law.
In many ways, I felt that I took a beating in my debate with Khalid, though I still walked out of there with my head held high. Rather than feeding the fire-breathing stereotype of a my-way-or-the-highway American evangelist, I decided in the end to make a symbolic attempt at reconciliation. Though Khalid left me with little hope of reconciliation between the West and Islam, I found out later that my presence did have a disarming effect on Khalid—somewhat. Khalid conceded that I wasn’t what he expected and, t the very least, he confided to me that I helped him see that merican Christians are also concerned about the moral issues he’s concerned with and that not every American Christian agrees with U.S. foreign policy.
Then I returned home.
For weeks I walked around in a daze. I couldn’t get the thought but of my mind that if Khalid and his repeated threats to fight with all means necessary until U.S. troops are removed from Muslim ands, if his ideas represent only 10% of the 1.3 billion Muslims of he world, then we are looking at a problem of global significance. Hearing the rage and frustration of Khalid helped me to see that he anger and frustration of millions of Muslims directed at America and Western Civilization didn’t emerge from a vacuum. And how many jihadists does it take to execute a terrorist attack capable of destabilizing the world order? Only a handful. All I could think of was America is not ready for this.
But then another thought struck me.
As I poured myself into watching documentaries, reading scholarly journals online, and scrutinizing the TV news, I realized that something was changing on the inside of me, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. After a couple of months I realized that something had happened during my debate with Khalid that I ever thought would happen. Khalid had presented an authentic challenge to my faith and I knew that if there was to be any victory at all, like the victory that was prophesied, then I would have to get to the bottom of the issue. Khalid’s charge was simple. Jesus didn’t leave the world with a comprehensive social system, economic system, political system, or any other kind of system to regulate society. At least Muhammad attempted to solve the world’s problems.
Tell me, preacher man. How would you implement the Bible from a governmental point of view?
I poured over the Scriptures for months with this question in mind. Did Jesus really leave us with nothing in terms of how to implement the Scriptures from a governmental point of view? Certainly he left us with something. Or did He? If He did, then we Christians in the West had better find out what it is and get off our lazy derrieres and do something. If He didn’t, then why didn’t He? If it turns out that He did not, then what are the implications for the War on Terror and the current clash between the West and Islam? After months of pouring over this simple question, I realized that my entire world had been turned upside down.
