To make the most of this teaching and learning opportunity, fully prepare yourself and your work for what you will receive. If it’s your first time at a conference or workshop event, the material covered and pace of the day can be overwhelming. Anticipate that you will be filled to overflowing with inspiration and instruction to your purpose. Plan to make your time there as productive as possible.
​
The Binder
Begin by prepping a three-ring binder with index folder sections and envelopes to organize handouts or information collected. Your notes become an invaluable resource on a myriad of topics pertinent to your writing and publishing goals. House all handouts and materials well. I’ve kept all my notes and info from every conference I’ve attended through the years for easy reference anytime.

Once you’ve pulled your binder together, focus on four things: Purpose, Preparation, and Productivity.

PURPOSE:
WHY are you going to the conference or workshop?
Whether it is a four-day conference or one-day seminar/workshop, determine WHY you want to attend and what you hope to gain from it. Your purpose may be to understand more about the process of publication and realities of the book and media industry. You may be a novice with just an idea and a sense that you have a story to tell or a more seasoned writer with notes and manuscript drafts. Zero in on why you have chosen to attend and own your purpose there with resolve and confidence.

PREPARATION:
WHAT do you have to bring to the conference or workshop?
Don’t arrive empty handed! As noted above, perhaps you have a few story or idea notes jotted down in a journal and wonder if it has the potential to be published someday. Perhaps you have a file full of short articles, a few chapters of a book, or a completed manuscript.

Large conferences have dozens of workshop sessions and professionals on faculty ranging from published authors to editors, illustrators, marketing gurus, and publishing company representatives for books, articles, devotionals, or online media outlets. Smaller one-day workshops may have a staff under ten and only about 5 teaching sessions. Either way, plan how you will use your time there and know who you want to meet, the questions you want to ask, and the most useful workshop classes to attend. Make sure you come prepared:

• Create a one-sheet proposal that answers key questions about your work to share with those you’ll meet at the conference and the professionals you’ll connect with there.
• Be able to explain your purpose and project in less than a minute and have your one sheet proposal ready for people to quickly review to learn more. Scroll to the bottom of this post to download the FREE PDF SAMPLE MANUSCRIPT PROPOSAL and follow its format for your work.​
• Print multiple copies (about 5) of your one-sheet with a sample of your writing to present in either one-on-one interviews with editors/publishers or in small group sharing.
• Pray for the grace to receive criticism! Your words and idea may be your “baby” but it has a lot of growing to do. Growth requires change. Publishing a work that has not been vetted by many eyes, tested for its quality and veracity, will disappoint in the end.

PRODUCTIVITY:
HOW will you follow-up on what you’ve learned?
Your experience at a writers’ conference/workshop does not end with the end of the event. The time you spend afterward in review of what you learned and who you met is almost more important than simply attending. Follow-up will make the difference between moving forward with your goals, remaining stuck in limbo, or quitting on your publishing dreams altogether.

• Pray through what you learned about your work, about yourself, and about the potential for your work. God will fine tune your conference/workshop experience so you can organize your thoughts and draw useful conclusions about what to do next.
• Decide on what projects to pursue. Some ideas may need to be put aside. Others may require a complete overhaul. Still others may only want a tweak or two before moving forward with a publishing option presented to you.
• Stay in touch! Designate a folder or envelope in your binder for all the business cards and network connection information you’ll collect on the people you met so you can follow up with them later. Conference and workshops are an important part of building your circle of writing professionals to help you grow in your writing and publishing goals. Take advantage of friending them or following them on social media, joining email lists if offered, or setting a date for another in-person meetup or phone chat.
• Search out an opportunity to join a writers’ critique group. These are small, local groups of about seven or eight serious writers who come together to build their technical craft skills in editing and industry. Contact Miss Kathy on this website to learn how you can start a group of your own—even if you don’t feel you have the expertise to edit or critique anyone but yourself.

If you have a passion for storytelling, a way with words, and good news in God to share with the world, you need to explore the writing and publishing tools available to you through independent publishing and the plethora of online and print media markets looking for material to feed a hungry reading audience.

​The road to publishing is paved with plenty of rocks and ruts along the way. Disappoint and Delight will be your companions. But if God has called you to it—He will give you the compass necessary to navigate through to a completed vision. It never happens overnight—but as I’ve learned on my own writer’s journey, we must be willing to take risks and grow into greater things while having patience for the prize.

​Time for the wearin' o' the green this month as we bid (hopefully) a fare thee well to winter white, and look forward to greener grasses and the harbinger of spring—St. Patrick's Day! It is a valuable slice of history we should all know about, so we might make the truth of the day the hallmark of our celebrations . . .

​Storytelling is an important facet of Irish culture. Their tales descend from olden days, when the first Celtic societies settled the rugged, green Irish landscapes. Perhaps the most recognized legend and emblem of Ireland, next to St. Patrick’s story and shamrock, is the beautiful symbol of the Claddagh . . . 
First published in March 2017 on The Writers Reverie Podcast as Irish Storytelling: Legends and Love.

Storytelling is an important facet of Irish culture. Their tales descend from olden days, when the first Celtic societies settled the rugged, green Irish landscapes.

But over time, they were conquered by invaders from Gaul (modern France) and slowly, the population of original ancient Celtic inhabitants shrunk, becoming the “little people” of legend.

Whenever something odd happened, the developing Irish culture blamed the wee folk—leprechauns and fairies, giving birth to tales of mischief, delighting generation after generation. Fanciful stories of faerie folk and little green people of questionable temper have their place in the realms of make-believe, cherished side-by-side with the Bible and books brought to Irish shores by St. Patrick. 

“Wherever they went the Irish brought with them their books . . . tied to their waists as signs of triumph, just as Irish heroes had one tied to their waists their enemies’ heads. Wherever they went they brought their love of learning and their skills in bookmaking. In the bays and valleys of their exile, they re-established literacy and breathed new life into the exhausted literary culture of Europe.”
                                                Thomas Cahill
                                                How the Irish Saved Civilization
 
Perhaps the most recognized legend and emblem of Ireland, next to St. Patrick’s story and shamrock, is the beautiful symbol of the Claddagh. It is historically worn as a ring of betrothal. Though there are many tales tracing back to its roots, it’s largely said to originate from the small fishing village of Claddagh. Formerly located just outside the walls of Galway, it is now part of that big city. But, since the 17th century, this told and re-told tale from the old town keeps its history alive with distinction.
 
The first known Claddagh rings, fashioned for betrothal and marriage in the Galway region, is credited to a goldsmith, Bartholomew Fallon, prior to 1700. But silversmith, Richard Joyce, captivated storyteller’s imaginations when he was captured and sold into slavery by Algerian Corsairs on a seafaring trip to the West Indies in 1675. While enslaved for fourteen years by a Moorish goldsmith, he designed the Claddagh image of clasped hands, heart, and crown. King William III sent emissaries to win the release of all British slaves, and eventually Joyce returned to his Claddagh village and married. His story and ring design spread throughout the region, affording him great success as a goldsmith for the remainder of his life.
 
During the Victorian era, the Claddagh ring grew in popularity throughout England and the British Isles, vigorously marketed throughout the 19th century. By the 20th century, the symbol reached jewelers on American shores. Today it is worn in gold and silver designs as rings, bracelets, necklaces, and earrings, plus varied décor motifs by millions worldwide. 
 
Adding a bit of dialogue and lyrical language to the re-telling of the tale, here’s my spin on the story—names changed—and just a smidge of melodrama. So, pour yourself a cuppa green tea and enjoy!
 
The Legend of the Claddagh

Once upon a time, in an Irish coastal village called Claddagh, lived a lovely young lass with locks of red, and emerald green eyes, named Bridgid. She loved a young man named Seamus, of handsome face and noble character. Together, they bound themselves in a pledge of marriage, clasping hands and hearts, with the blessing of their families and the joy of their village surrounding them.
 
Seamus was a fisherman. He wanted to give his bride a comfortable home, and worked hard to secure enough money to the purpose. If he went away for one more summer season of fruitful fishing, he’d earn enough so they could marry and settle in for a cozy winter together in their own cottage.
 
One early morning in June, the lovely lass with the emerald eyes, bid farewell to her fisherman with the handsome face. 
 
“How I hate to see you go,” she said.
 
“I am your lover, true,” he said.
 
“May fair winds on you blow, “she said.
 
“I will come back for you,” he said.
 
And he was away.
 
But, later that day the boat returned with nary a fisherman to be found. It drifted into the harbor holding few clues to help the village solve the mystery of the missing fishermen. But, it was clear enough—the fishermen fathers and sons of Claddagh had been abducted by slave raiders. Slave raiders! It was a sure and tragic loss to everyone in the small community.

Tears welled in Bridgid’s sorrowful, emerald green eyes. “’Tis a shame,” said her mother, “Her love she will see no more.”
 
“Fear not, Mother,” Bridgid said, defiantly tossing her red locks of curly hair, “My lover will come for me!” She feared the worst, but steeled herself with hope. He promised to return to her, after all.

In fact, Seamus was alive, though in bondage, sold as a slave to a sultan across the sea. Being that he possessed an artistic bent, he was let to train in the craft of the goldsmith. For many years, he labored for his master. The sultan came to favor the Claddagh lad and offered the hand of his own daughter to the young man in marriage. But, Seamus refused the gift.

“How can you refuse such a gift as I offer?” The sultan was indignant.
 
“Because,” said the lad, “I hold in my hands the heart of the girl who waits for me in Claddagh village. A queen of maidens. I shall always go back to her, as I promised.”  Then, using his skills as a goldsmith, he fashioned a ring, with a crown atop a heart, held gently in two clasped hands. The crown meant Faithfulness, the hands, Friendship, and the heart, Love.
 
Meanwhile, the lovely lass, Bridgid, grew older, waiting patiently for her lover to come for her. Everyday, morning and evening, she lingered on the dock from where she last saw her love’s handsome, noble face. Her mother shuddered with lament at the loss of her daughter’s youthful bloom, and prospects for home and family. A maiden daughter—Oh! The shame of it!
 
Until the day a widower of some means knocked on their door. “I find I desire a wife, good Mistress, your daughter may do just fine.”
 
Boldly, the lass lashed out in response. “No, never!” Her eyes burned. “My lover will come for me!”
 
Over the sea and so very far away, the sultan watched his favorite lad closely. He was amazed at the many ways Seamus showed himself true to his claim of a love left behind at every opportunity. This impressed the sultan who had never known love could be so impenetrably true. After many years of service, he released the former fisherman and sent him on a journey to return home—and find his love.
 
After many months sailing over oceans deep, battling storm and gale and sea serpent assaults, the freed fishermen landed, once again, on the Irish shore of Claddagh. There to meet him, waiting daily as she did by the wharf’s edge, was his lovely lady of the red locks and emerald eyes. Onto her finger, he slipped the golden ring he’d made—Faithfulness, Friendship, and Love—the firm foundation for life-long bliss.
 
Their vows sealed under sunshine and sapphire skies in the village square. Fiddle and harp set feet to dancing in celebration. The blessing of family and joy of their friends surrounding them.
 
And by the bliss of a kiss she sighed, “My lover has come for me.”
 
Christ is our Great Fisher-of-Men Lover
​
                                           I love the metaphor of Christ's Claddagh,
                           His love, the daily friendship of His Presence in my life,
                            and His faithful promise that He is loyal to His Bride
                                           and will one day return for her.
​

It is January 2021, and as our nation stands on the precipice of destruction at the hands of our enemies, God calls His people to STAND HIS GROUND, hold the line of His revealed purposes and destiny for America, and set our faith face like flint against the threat of instablity at this critical moment in world history. 

Around midnight on January 18th I responded with the following words to a friend on Telegram who waivered in a moment of doubt, exhausted by hope seemingly deferred. I shared my anchor in this storm--and my complete confidence that deliverance from evil is come. I share my response here--with technical edits from the original.

​I think there has been a whole lotta bad eschatology taught over the last century.

Dispensationalism took the wind out of the church's sails and stripped much of denominational church of the Spiritual gifts that had empowered her. The idea that these gifts were all done away with when the temple fell 2000 years ago has never proven true in practice or experience. Yet, it settled over the church like a cloak, covering generations from the more of God's full promises and equipping.

In addition, somewhere along the line we lost the place and office efficacy of the apostolic and the prophetic as foundational and active ministry gifts (in addition to the evangelist, pastor, and teacher) necessary to the equipping of the church to do the work of the ministry.

The church became a non-threatening social club of good-deed doers and handed over its lead position in discipling the culture of nations as Ekklesia—the legislative governing Body built by Jesus against which the gates of hell would not prevail.

We had spits and spurts of Holy Spirit outpouring, but with each one, over the last century especially, it seemed new levels of worldliness and distracting doctrines stunted explosive growth.

As decades passed, it appeared the world was going to hell in a handbasket and by the 80s, the popular "late, great planet earth" teaching told us to hunker down into our cozy church buildings and safe programs with our rapture rugs, ready to be air lifted out of the mess at any time.

Oh my—THAT is NOT in the Scripture.

Jesus spent His earthly ministry teaching KINGDOM LIVING and showing us the Way and commissioned us to disciple nations and take His gospel throughout the whole earth—occupying territory until He comes. We are to do so with ALL Authority, signs, and wonders.

He did not tell us to roll over when the enemy rose up and lose to a satanic New World Order agenda! In fact--He warned us to sharpen our discernment of the times and the seasons.

Jesus is returning for a Bride ready and resplendent, who has fulfilled her calling and established God's Kingdom on earth as it is in Heaven. When Jesus returns, He's not coming for us as a Great Rapture Escape Plan—He's coming to take His readied Bride to a Wedding Feast.

THEN—all hell breaks loose in the earth as He (Holy Spirit) who has been holding things back is taken away.

Right now, we are seeing the fulfillment of much biblical prophecy and prophetic narratives. Even so we can see that great swaths of the church, with eyes and understanding glazed over for varied reasons, could not recognize it.

Prophetic Scripture becomes relevant and quickened to our understanding when a generation lives through it—much like Daniel who realized he was living through the prophetic season of the end of captivity and the Magi who recognized the season of Messiah's birth.

America shall be saved not because of America—but because of the Person, Character, Faithfulness, and Covenants of our Promise-keeping God who called our nation to birth for a destiny and purpose we have barely scratched the surface of.

He doesn't do anything that He doesn't tell His prophets first—that is how Ekklesia works. And He has been VERY chatty--right NOW in THIS TIME--with all who have ears to hear and eyes to see, confirmed in His written Word. He has raised up a company of prophets and apostolic leadership worldwide, hearing and seeing the same thing--instruction and comfort delivered by Holy Spirit.

“Listen to me, all you people of Judah and Jerusalem (AMERICA)! Believe in the Lord your God, and you will be able to stand firm. Believe in his prophets, and you will succeed.”
                                                                                                                           2 Chronicles 20:20 NLT

Nothing will ever be the same going forward now. It will be better. A broken, captive nation healed. Treasures lost, restored--as the prophets, both ancient and modern, have foretold.

Not without the pain and the fight—the birthing process of a new thing is not pleasant in the moment. Transition in birthing DELIVERY room is painful at its critical mass moment. But afterward—joy and growth and potential and purpose!

Jesus told us all these "hell in a handbasket" things would happen, wars and rumors of wars, our world turned upside down, shaken. But, He also said that when those things happened, it was NOT the end yet.

We are shaken in His Mercy so that what is of HIM remains, while Justice deals with everything that is not of Him. Justice and Mercy meet at the Cross—the work of Redemption finished.

To God be the glory for the thing He is doing NOW—in OUR lifetime! Delivering us from evil because the Kingdom, the power, and the glory belong to HIM! Amen!!

Sleep well and joyful. We will weather much trauma and plot twists in the coming days. Hold the line. Our Red Sea Moment will be followed by dancing and celebration and the job of possessing the Promised Land Harvest. But this time, no golden calves and whining about Egypt is allowed. Wilderness wandering is NOT on God's agenda for His Bride and Ekklesia in the new era we are entering--the Promised Land.

​We have a Kingdom to establish to the glory of God in the earth.

THIS is why I am so fully confident that Donald Trump will serve another 4 years as the greatest president our nation has ever known--God's Cyrus in our day and age to heal our land, restore our foundations, and smooth the path for Ekklesia to accomplish God's purposes in liberty and justice throughout all the earth. 

At Christmastime, my husband Ed grows out his whiskers and you might find us in bookstores or eldercare facilities as Mr. and Mrs. Claus. We’re blessed every time we cross the threshold of an assisted living or nursing home. The men and women spending their days in such a place once had active lives, working hard, raising families, loving, and laughing. They are now in a season of total dependence. It is a privilege to share a little song and story with them, tapping into their memory and affirming their worth.
 
Standing before a room filling with residents, I smile and chat with them as they’re placed before me. Some are helped with their walkers to sit in a chair. But most are rolled in on wheelchairs or larger lounge beds. Heads slump. Hands and arms involuntarily twitch. Moans are heard, or soft fragile banter as friends greet.
 
We often perform in one local venue and are familiar with some of the residents—always sad to learn of someone who had passed between visits. I miss seeing them.
 
One this particular day, as Ed and I make the rounds of the arriving audience, a woman I have never seen before, is rolled in her wheelchair directly in front of our staging area. For some reason, the nurse faces her chair sideways so she’s looking towards the fireplace rather than directly at where we’re speaking. Her eyes are closed and her chin low to her chest. The nurse says she is new, her name is Hilda, and she doesn’t speak much or connect with others. I wonder what might be locked in her mind, weary that her body can no longer support the vitality of her soul.
 
Some upbeat songs and a nostalgic poem or two lead us to the grand finale of our program. It is our dramatization of Christmas in the Trenches, a powerful retelling of the 1914 truce on Christmas Eve in the No Man's Land territory in France during World War I.
 
Ed dramatically sets the stage with his words painting the bleak battlefield landscape dugout within the trenches. The English on one side and the Germans on the other, are separated by only 30 yards—No Man’s Land. As night descends, the guns quiet. It is a lonely waiting game these soldiers have become accustomed to. None know whether they will be breathing by sunrise stuck in such a confined place. So close to death.
 
My elder-care audiences understand such a place. Many are old enough to have heard stories of their own father’s exploits in that very war. I marvel at what thoughts stir within them when we open the gateway to this particular story. I am about to find out.
 
A sentry calls for the chatter in the English trench to hush. He hears an eerie sound coming from the German side. A melody. Men's voices singing a hymn-like tune. Well, it is Christmas, after all, and the Germans have their national landscape dotted with Christian cathedrals and a rich Christian history. Much like the English do.
 
Not to be outdone, the Brits break into a chorus of their traditional carol, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. That’s when I step forward to sing in a peppy a capella:
 
God rest ye merry gentlemen let nothing you dismay.
Remember Christ our Saviour was born on Christmas day.
To save us all from Satan's power when we were gone astray.
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy--comfort and joy!
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy!
 
A moment passes, and another sound drifts to their ears through the dark night. Through the silent night. Through the holy night. They do not understand the words—but they surely recognize the tune.
 
Again, I step forward to sing. This time, it is with a bit of trepidation as I’ve had to learn the lyrics in German. I begin slowly and deliberately, careful to pronounce my words correctly: Stille Nacht! 
 
The silent slumped woman in the sideways wheelchair moans and twitches. Heil'ge Nacht! 
 
Again, Hilda is aroused, this time shaking her head and beating her hand on the arm of the chair. I continue, nervously. Alles schläft;
 
A hum. I hear a hum. Einsam wacht 
 
As though electrified, Hilda lifts her head and shouts wacht with me! We move into the next line in unison. Nur das traute hoch heilige Paar. 
 
My mind is racing. Words catch in my throat. Dare I continue? Something precious is happening this instant. I close my mouth and allow a miracle. She sings alone. Holder Knab' im lockigen Haar, 
 
It’s a rich, strong, tremulous voice, ignoring the well of tears crushed between pinched eyelids. My own tears begin to fall. Unhampered. Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh! Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh! 
 
In that moment, that historical moment, that holy moment . . . I cannot continue the story. The room is awash in sniffles and a rush of tissues dabbing damp eyes. I begin to laugh. The nurses laugh. Joyful laughter and bliss-filled crying rise as though a second chorus of the song. Then subside. Hilda does not open her eyes. But, she nods her head—singing still in her soul with long ago voices from her homeland. I learn later that she is German and never became proficient in English.
 
Back in the trenches, the English lift their voices, singing along in their own language. And, it might have sounded like angels, piercing light through the dark night of war with the herald of peace on earth, God's good will to men of good will.
 
Silent Night, Holy Night,
All is calm, all is bright,
Round yon virgin, mother and child.
Holy infant so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Sleep in heavenly peace.
 
It was a silent and holy night, indeed, when two battling forces chose to forfeit the government of men for the government of the Prince of Peace who is Wonderful, Councilor, the Almighty God.
 
That night . . . "in two tongues, one song filled the air."
 
What happened on that French battlefield in 1914 was miraculous, indeed. When men lay aside the gods of this world, they can be empowered to turn No Man's Land into the Promised Land, standing firm footed in the domain of Heavenly Peace. Ruled by the Prince of Peace. The Reason for the Season. Jesus.
 
I think Hilda might have drifted off to sleep before we finished the story. But, for a moment, I believe she lived a dream come true. A connection between heaven and earth in the soul of one weary, worn, wheelchair bound woman. And I am honored to be a present witness to it.
 
But, the story continues. Slowly, soldiers on both sides creep out of the trenches and meet in the middle ground—the No Man’s Land where none dared cross before. Together, they pass the hours swapping Christmas gifts sent from their respective homes, sharing photographs of their families, singing carols together, and playing soccer through the night watch until morning.
 
Not one of them is willing to fire upon the other by sunrise. They all awake in the morning with hope close at hand—not death. Light sweeps away the dark. Lives are changed. Entire regiments are recalled and refreshed with new soldiers unjaded by the visitation of the Spirit of Christmas.
 
But, as Ed and I bid farewell to our audience, and Hilda in particular, we’ve experienced a visitation of our own. No story or song we might have performed could eclipse the light that flooded the room when Hilda lifted her head and voice to sing. Alive, for an instant, grasping tight to the Spirit of Christmas. Her hope. Her peace.
 
My meditations on Christmas in the trenches and its impact on the men in their day, and right there in the elder care gathering room, drive home to me a truth we as Christians must hold fast in our hearts through the night of these contemporary times and current events: Only Jesus brings hope. Only Jesus brings peace.
 
When Europe was at war in 1914, they were brother nations fighting brother nations. Their Western European history was linked together with the scarlet threads of the blood of Jesus Christ—Christian nations all. When their man-centered governments did not place Christ on the throne as Prince of Peace, wars ensued. It continues to be a painful fact of history, century after turbulent century. Those men in the trenches, on both sides, lived out the eternal truth: Only Christmas—the coming of Jesus Christ—has the power to silence guns. Enemies see the light of He whom they both know as the Heavenly King.
 
A Government exceeding all governments.
 
But times are much changed since then. Our world is threatened by a terroristic enemy who not only does not know Jesus as Heavenly King, but has sworn to annihilate any government of men's heart and lands that is not their own. Peace is not in their vocabulary. The No Man's Land that separates the two sides can never become a soccer field for a friendly game.
 
This Christmas, I reflect on the headlines, and the domestic tragedies that appear to be heightened with so much hate rampant and fueled by human governments. Ignorance and Want, having fled the protective shielding under the garment robes of Charles Dicken's Spirit of Christmas Present, and causes unbridled havoc in society at large.
 
Still, I am convinced more than ever—the Prince of Peace, the coming of Jesus Christ—is the ONLY hope for peace and resolution to these ills.
 
We are battling a new trench enemy in this 21st century, stirred by an age-old evil called sin. May we pray that Christmas comes into our trenches on whatever front we find ourselves fighting wars. Be it in health, relationships, loss, living, governments, worldviews, or physical battlegrounds with guns and canons, my prayer this Christmas is that you know Jesus in the trenches with you. And, that hope in Him brings peace to your war and your world.
​

Is it hot where you are?

Here in Southern New Jersey we’ve endured these last two scorching summers of 2020 and 2021 temperatures in the mid-90’s and up, with humidity about the same. Add to that the heat of world-wide unrest as the forces of good and evil collide in every mountain of culture, in every nation: government, academics, economics, media, entertainment, church, and family. 

​As we have reached the precipice in this transitional era of world history, high pressure  systems can weigh us down with weariness, wariness, and wimpiness. Living one day to the next in the lava flow of hyped pandemics, totalitarian threats, and propaganda mind control at epic levels, becomes like slave labor in a sense. Our physical, mental, and emotional psyche seeks a reset in liberty, balance, and stability to know rest and renewal in a sensible air conditioned environment.
 
That’s where our spirit man comes in—the ultimate stabilizing thermostat in our lives set by the Word and Promises of God in any weather condition. On every battlefield.

Yes, the heat is turned up this summer on every front unseen in history since biblical eras—not just the thermometer outside. Expected highs in the fervor of our current national and global crisis adds more passionate heat and headaches to the weatherman’s predictions for oppressive temperatures.
 
Our Founding Fathers, living through 90 degree weather in the summer of 1776, knew this oppressive heat well—with no respite of air conditioning. They stared down the musket barrel of a future for themselves and their children which sought to strip them of the rights and freedoms they colonized the New World to secure.
 
That summer, in the crucible of boiling temperatures, they referenced the wisdom and direction of the Lord through their heated debates on the path to crafting an independent nation of self-governed people. Every single founding document left by them in letters, journals, essays, books, and official charters and constitutions, notes the place of God’s Providence in the birth of our nation—and the expected continuance of same by their descendents.

In drafting a framework for both governmental principles and education, Samuel Adams noted the important mandate of “inculcating . . . the study and practice of the exalted virtues of the Christian system” within all aspects of America's national identity. The stewards of America in recent generations failed our Founders and have brought us to such a time as this. They ceased to inculcate Christ into every sphere of societal influence and the enemy crept in to sow tares.
 
Today in the blistering heat of summer, those fields are white to harvest with the effects of both wheat and tares--in America and worldwide. A great separation must come to pass before our land can be healed, our foundations restored, and the ancient landmarks replaced. 

Jesus Christ polarizes our nation and a generation of Christians—AMERICAN Christians—with His eternal imperative:  Choose you this day whom you will serve. 

Never in our nation’s history has there been such a clear distinction between two governmental ideologies that seek to gain preeminence on our soil and over the hearts and minds of our people.  It is no longer a choice between Republican and Democrat that will be asked of us on election day. It is Good versus Evil. Americanism versus Communism. The Kingdom of God versus the Gates of Hell. 

Even so—a ballot must largely be cast for people representing the principles of the Republican Party Platform or the Democrat Party Platform. Which aligns most with a biblical worldview and the founding vision for this nation? How can we discern deception from both parties when many are proved to be one in the same—the UNIPARTY set upon the interests of foreign powers rather than America? When evidence comes to light of treason in our own government, and we realize we must rename them to PATRIOTS vs TRAITORS, how can we restore biblical alignment? 

The stewards of America's Christian history and legacy of liberty and light to the nations melted in the warmth of battle in past decades.  They wilted in temperate days when Evil worked behind the scenes cloaked in darkness and distraction.  And now, when dark is brought into the light by the hand of God to fulfill HIS purposes in the earth, deception and confusion makes limp the arms that should be mighty to tear down strongholds in the heat of battle.
​
The men and women who crafted our country’s government were sinners saved by grace. Flaws in each were pervasive—though a nobler generation we’d be hard pressed to find. In the end, it was the unity of many with higher goals than their own, and checks and balances at work, that made the United States the dynamic powerhouse and light in the free world that it became under our national motto: In God We Trust.

Fast Forward to June 2023
When I first started this blog post in July 2020, I was consumed with helping a dearest loved one through a health crisis that would span into the next year.

No--it had NOTHING to do with what we now know to be revealed as government, global genocide and depopulation efforts in the oversell, deadly advice on care, and fear porn of a suped up flu/common cold. That was a huge inconvenience in light of the health issues and losses my loved one had been enduring. 

With so much going on that summer of 2020, I never got back to finishing this post. It just sat with the image and opening saved in my post drafts queue.

BUT NOW . . .
Here we are three years later on the cusp of summer in 2023 and the personal and global battles on every front appear to have reached critical mass. My dear one recovered and is well, but in the summer of 2021, my own husband and ministry partner Ed, was attacked with a very aggressive prostate cancer calling us to full time spiritual warfare, on a level we'd never known, as he fought for his life.

We learned so much about prayer! We unlearned even more from decades of ingrained bad theology regarding the true nature of faith, the authority we have in Jesus Christ, and moreso--the true nature of God and His purposes in the earth.

This brought even more clarity to Matthew 6:9-13, The Lord's Prayer, as it is historically referred to. What I learned in our cruicible time built on the revelation I'd received a decade earlier regarding the plan and purpose of that model prayer--and especially what Jesus meant by His Kingdom come and His Will done, became another watershed moment in my life walk with Him.

The Revelation 
When Jesus instructed His disciples in how to pray, He called them to first glorify Father God as holy and above all--and then declare the thing He desired most: 

​I suddenly saw a rote memorized prayer, that we've all mumbled for centuries, (unseating the words from any real power when vainly repeated without comprehension) as "rockets red glare" and "bombs bursting in air," giving proof that Victory in Jesus won 2000 years ago is absolute--and our full liberty in ALL things is assured.

Not only is the purpose of the church--EKKLESIA--God's legislative governing body on earth--to be more about establishing His Kingdom on earth as in Heaven, beyond the mere saving of souls, but it is the NATIONS that God has interest in. His full Will and Way restored in culture and human society worldwide, just as it was at Creation and before the fall of man.

Adam's sin relinquished to Satan all the authority God had given him and Eve to establish His Kingdom on earth--where His glory filled all things. That glory was removed and God set in place a long game plan to unseat Satan and restore all things to Himself. And He would do this using the now corrupted man and woman He'd made for relationship in the image and likeness of Himself. He desired to redeem and establish His Kingdom  working in relationship through His Creation--you and me.

Daily, He gives us everything necessary to fulfill that call to the restoration of all things, making way for His glory to fill the earth.

His forgiveness of our sin through the shed Blood, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ is key and the central moment in all human history. We are now spiritually empowered to be conduits of forgiveness in the lives of others and transformers of culture and society in restored relationship with our Creator.

God NEVER leads us into temptation. He DELIVERS us from evil.
Every time.
THAT, is the biblical record.

We are living through just such a time as that in our nation and in all the nations of the world. The fact that we see evil so boldly exposed on a global scale, brought into the light and shouted from rooftops what had once been hidden in the dark and whispered about in dank corners, proves Satan has lost. Embedded bastions of evil that had been there all the time are now being forced out. The righteous Light of the Lord stirring in the earth brings exposure of evil and precedes judgment. (Mark 4:22)

In the Light of God's glory hovering over His earth, judgment of the wicked is assured as righteousness is exalted. Kingdom restoration can fully proceed in an unprecedented acceleration.

Because--the Kingdom, the glory, and the power belong to God, and God alone!!

Huzzah!

When Heaven and Earth Embrace 
September 19, 2022, I bid my husband and ministry partner farewell from earth and saw him welcomed into his Father's arms in Heaven. That cancer battle did not end with the type of victory I'd hoped to see--him preserved on earth for decades yet of ministry ahead. Even so--in Christ he still wins and gains the embrace of Heaven in Heaven.

I remain to complete our assignment here--establish His Kingdom and Will, EMBRACED ON EARTH as it is in Heaven.

Ten years ago, the Lord dropped that phrase into my spirit. I initially thought it to be the title of a book. I even designed the cover for it with absolutely no idea what the book was to be about. None. Zero. Other than another compilation of devotional thoughts, I had no further direction on the book beyond the phrase that I explored in this book cover visual:

​​I am overwhelmed with grief at the seemingly impossible state of affairs manifesting in our nation and the world today. How far our founding landmarks have been removed! I’ve watched them be systematically replaced with evil substitutes over my lifetime of close to six decades long. I see human hearts and minds sent strong delusions, believing lies, calling right wrong and wrong right, and a host of other travesties the Bible warns us about in 2 Timothy 3:1-5 NKJV:
 
But know this, that in the last days perilous times will come: For men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy,  unloving, unforgiving, slanderers, without self-control, brutal, despisers of good, traitors, headstrong, haughty, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying its power. And from such people turn away!
 
All I know to do is to pray. But my prayer is reduced to a waterfall of tears. Words are choked back by sobs. I feel helpless and alone facing the mountains. So, I cry out my complaint to the Lord.
 
“Who am I, Lord? I am helpless to make a difference. What can I do? I’m just a tiny little mouse in this big scary scheme of things. It’s all so dark and impossible.” I’m blubbering by this time.
 
Thankfully, our blubbering is not a bother to God. In fact, it is the passkey to open the door to His many mercies and grace in our time of need.
 
Seeing then that we have a great High Priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.
                                                                                                Hebrews 12:14-16 NKJV
 
“Yes,” a commanding Voice whispers in my spirit. “You are a mouse. And you are many.”
 
In that instant, I see . . . mice. Scurrying. On a mission.
 
My mind’s eye flips open an image I know well. The Stone Table where Aslan lay dead—shaved and bound with ropes, his heart pierced and bleeding still.
 
C. S. Lewis does not spare the imagination of the reader in this climatic passage from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. In a lengthy discourse, he describes the scene through the eyes of Susan and Lucy. Overwhelmed with grief at the impossible series of events they’ve witnessed—their greatest hope has been humiliated and undone at the hands of a Witch and her evil army. Carefully, they remove the muzzle that had clamped his mouth shut.
 
“I wonder could we untie him as well?” said Susan presently. But the enemies, out of pure spitefulness had drawn the cords so tight that the girls could make nothing of the knots.
 
Yet, as they kiss his lifeless face, weeping and blubbering in uncontained sorrow, Lucy notices small movements upon his body.
 
A mouse. First one . . . then another . . . and another. A legion of them suddenly materialize on the scene. Susan responds, wildly waving arms to shoo them away. But Lucy sees something more.
 
“Wait!” said Lucy who had been looking at them more closely still. “Can you see what they’re doing . . . I think they’re friendly mice. Poor little things—they don’t realize he’s dead. They think it’ll do some good untying him”. . . They could see the mice nibbling away; dozens and dozens, even hundreds, of little field mice. And at last, one by one, the ropes were all gnawed through . . . The girls cleared away the remains of the gnawed ropes. Aslan looked more like himself without them. Every moment his dead face looked nobler, as the light grew and they could see it better.
 
A mouse nibbled away at the ropes keeping Aslan tied down to the Stone Table. Susan and Lucy thought it a nice gesture, but a waste of time and effort.
 
The girls stroll a short distance away to move about in order to warm themselves and wonder at what they have seen. But a loud clap, a great cracking, deafening noise, sends them running back to where they left Aslan in the murky darkness before the dawn.
 
The rising of the sun had made everything look so different—all the colours and shadows were changed—that for a moment they didn’t see the important thing. Then they did. The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan . . . “Who’s done it?” cried Susan. “What does it mean? Is it more magic?” “Yes!” said a great voice behind their backs. “It is more magic.” They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself . . .
 
BECAUSE . . .
 
“. . . when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards.” . . . Aslan stood up and when he opened his mouth to roar his face became so terrible that they did not dare to look at it. And they saw all the trees in front of him bend before the blast of his roaring as grass bends in a meadow before the wind. Then he said, “We have a long journey to go. You must ride on me.”
 
The story does not end here. There is yet a war raging for the freedom of a country long held captive. Holding fast to him, Susan and Lucy race to the frontlines of the battle mounted upon he who . . .
 
. . . doesn’t need to be guided and never grows tired. He rushes on and on, never missing his footing, never hesitating, threading his way with perfect skill between tree-trunks, jumping over bush and briar and the smaller streams, wading the larger, swimming the largest of all . . . the Lion had gathered himself together for a greater leap than any he had yet made and jumped—or you may call it flying rather than jumping—right over the castle wall. The two girls were breathless, but unhurt . . .
 
Breathless. Yes—that’s how I feel of late in what seems a world gone mad. I am out of breath. I also am aware that I’ve been sighing deep sighs intermittently throughout the day. I feel the assaults in the spiritual realm and need to catch my breath. And I pray.
 
Unhurt. That is my ultimate destiny. Mounted on the back of my Lord Jesus, I will arrive to meet the demands of the day, whatever they may be, unhurt. A little worse for wear, perhaps, as we all are bearing the burdens of calamitous times. But—as my fate is sealed in His Spirit, by His blood and the word of my testimony—I am unhurt.

Our prayers in such times as these nibble away at the cords that bind my Lord, as He bides His time for due season to roar. My mouse-like prayers, taken together with your mouse-like prayers, petition the Lord to let loose the Lion of Judah, that He would exercise His might in our fight. We have such need of the Lord to lead in the battle for the hearts and minds of this present generation and the soul of our nation.
 
I dread my newsfeed. I hate the headlines. But, if they compel me to nibble away the day in prayer without ceasing, I am accomplishing my mouse-like mission in the power of a Lion. I know not how long I must gnaw at the ropes, wrestling in prayer, before the bonds break and the Lion roars. But to be true to my mission in concert with many, I can be confident that I am in the center of God’s will for my life.
 
Aslan was dead. “Poor little things—they don’t realize he’s dead. They think it’ll do some good untying him.” Lucy thought the mice and their efforts foolish towards an impossible hope.
 
In the face of impossible national and global unrest as never before seen in history, God’s grace and mercy stands at the door of unknown outcomes. For me, I choose boldness—standing before His Throne in petition. I’ll live in expectation of the impossible and keep nibbling away.
 
Jesus has the last roar.
 
I highly recommend the prolific works of C. S. Lewis. His books are classics, revealing biblical truths with powerful reasoning and lucid explanations, both directly in his non-fiction writings, and metaphorically in his fiction—specifically The Chronicles of Narnia series. Today’s story is drawn from the first of those books, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, where we first meet Aslan as a type of Christ, painting a dynamic picture of the plan of salvation and elements of the spiritual battle taking place behind the scenes.
 
Resources to further your understanding of Lewis as a writer include his own Letters to Children where he answers their questions about the Narnia books. In addition, many writers have drawn out the principles explored in the series. One of my favorites is by Kathryn Lindskoog: Journey into Narnia. Do you have a favorite devotional study guide to the Narnia series?
 
How does seeing yourself as a mouse nibbling away at binding circumstances through prayer give you hope that the roar of the Lion of Judah may be released to work His will and wonders in dark and difficult times?

NOTE: I eventually expanded this original blog post and audio podcast to a full chapter in my book, The Gatekeeper's Key. Be ye blessed--and encouraged as, once again, the dark is, indeed, very dark in the battle. But the LIGHT shines brighter than ever before in this war.

This blog/podcast was originally published on The Writer's Reverie website which no longer exists. It was previously published in RUBY Magazine online which also is no longer in print. All book links on this post, except for The Gatekeeper's Key, are via my Amazon Affiliate Link. I appreciate your purchase through my affiliate to help Pageant Wagon Publishing continue its mission.