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Frantic by Mike Dellosso

2012-02-08T07:28:00.000-05:00

About the book:

Can a deranged serial killer be stopped before it s too late?

For gas station attendant Marny Toogood it s just another day on the job when an urgent message from a young girl in the backseat of a car draws him into a daring rescue attempt. Now on the run with the girl and her brother, Marny begins to realize he must conquer his own past and surrender all to Christ.

As they face kidnapping, underground cults, and other evils, can Marny trust the simple faith of a child and stand his ground against a power so twisted?

My review of Frantic:

Wow! Where do I begin? I’ve read a couple of Mike Dellosso’s books before and I was a fan with the first one I read, which was Darlington Woods. I was sufficiently freaked out and I was extremely satisfied with the Christian message that came through. Mike’s next book, Darkness Follows, again freaked me out and delivered an excellent message. So, when Frantic came along, I wanted the same type of reading experience. That was largely what I got, but on a slightly different level.

There was a certain portion of this book that really got my heart pumping, so much so, I had to put the book down for the night because the physical anxiety got to be too much for me. How many authors can write like that? Not many, and I read a lot! Now, I don’t want my experience to sound like a negative thing because it wasn’t, at all. It was awesome, actually. I didn’t have any nightmares, nor did I lose any sleep, it was just heart-pounding suspense at its best. I love any book that causes me to feel like I am really there. In this case I felt like I was the one being chased and it totally freaked me out. I say any book that can evoke an emotional AND a physical response is one that deserves some special recognition because it takes a special gift to write that way. Mike Dellosso has that gift and he uses it well.

A brief word of warning, there is violence and some disturbing imagery in Frantic, but I wasn’t troubled by it because it is important for the reader to truly experience the evil that the characters were contending with. I felt that Mike handled the violence with a tremendous level of respect and he certainly didn’t glamorize it. So, if you are looking for a book to really get your heart pounding and deliver a powerful Christian message, read Frantic. I truly enjoyed my experience with this book and it left me feeling uplifted and hopeful, not at all freaked out. It just goes to show how in life sometimes we have to go through some serious trials and fear to find our way to God and His grace. Love, love, loved this book!

For more information about Mike and his books, visit him on Facebook and his website

An advanced manuscript of Frantic was provided for review by the publisher.

Song of My Heart by Kim Vogel Sawyer

2012-02-08T00:00:00.000-05:00

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Song of My Heart Bethany House (February 1, 2012) by Kim Vogel Sawyer

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Kim Vogel Sawyer is the author of fifteen novels, including several CBA and ECPA bestsellers. Her books have won the ACFW Book of the Year Award, the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and the Inspirational Readers Choice Award. Kim is active in her church, where she leads women's fellowship and participates in both voice and bell choirs. In her spare time, she enjoys drama, quilting, and calligraphy. Kim and her husband, Don, reside in central Kansas, and have three daughters and numerous grandchildren.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Sadie Wagner has always been devoted to her family. So when her stepfather is injured and can't work, she decides to leave home and accept a position as a clerk at the mercantile in Goldtree, Kansas. Goldtree also offers the opportunity to use her God-given singing talent--though the promised opera house is far different from what she imagined. With her family needing every cent she can provide, Sadie will do anything to keep her job.

Thad McKane comes to Goldtree at the request of the town council. The town has been plagued by bootlegging operations, and Thad believes he can find the culprit. After he earns enough money doing sheriff work, he wants to use it to pay for his training to become a minister.

Thad is immediately attracted to the beautiful singer who performs in Asa Baxter's unusual opera house, but when he hears her practicing bawdy tunes, he begins to wonder if she's far less innocent than she seems. And when Sadie appears to be part of the very crimes he's come to investigate, is there any hope the love blossoming between them will survive?

If you would like to read the first chapter of Song of My Heart, go HERE.

My review of Song of My Heart:

Kim Vogel Sawyer is one of my favorite authors. I have not read all of her books, but once I read one of her books, I have not missed another. I enjoyed being back in Kansas after a trip to Alaska in her last book. I find that I prefer Kim’s books to be set in Kansas, it’s what I’m used to and I actually like that setting better for her stories.

When Song of My Heart arrived, I was able to just open it up and enjoy. I knew I would enjoy it and there wasn’t any of that slow time at the beginning of the story that I don’t care for. I immediately liked the characters, especially Thad. There was plenty of tension in this story to keep it interesting, but it was almost too much. Some of the tension was downplayed (quite well) with the humor. Kim is very good at that and I appreciate her for it because too much tension in a story makes for an unpleasant reading experience. I just simply enjoyed this story every bit as much as I knew I would. I have never been disappointed with a Kim Vogel Sawyer book and I highly doubt I ever will.

The Mysterious Epigenome by Thomas E. Woodward and James P. Gills

2012-02-07T18:03:00.001-05:00

About the book:

Many believers don’t understand the importance DNA has on their everyday routines. Healthy lifestyles--and healthy spiritual lives--are very much related to the epigenome, the control system of the cell. It’s time for Christians to learn the amazing and mysterious benefits of understanding what lies beyond DNA.

In this creative and inventive treatment, authors Thomas E. Woodward and James P. Gills take readers on an exploration of the human epigenome. Acting as tour guides leading visitors through a 3-D model of a human cell, Woodward and Gills bring to life the human molecular makeup. Readers (as visitors) will get up close and personal with the minute details of human molecular structure, including E. coli, flagellum, a DNA helix, an RNA molecule, and more. By seeing it with their own eyes, readers will gain a better understanding of their genetic systems and a better appreciation for the Creator who put this all into place.

Perhaps the most exciting aspect of understanding epigenetic information is the potential to proactively reprogram the human epigenome to allow for improved physical and spiritual health. Readers will discover how epigenetic damage can lead to rare forms of cancer and other ailments and how improved healthy lifestyles can cure the epigenomes, preventing the communication of hereditary setbacks to future generations. “Our hope,” write the authors “is that this book will be but the start of an awe-inspiring journey.

To read an excerpt, visit Kregel's website.

My review of The Mysterious Epigenome:

When I first heard about this blog tour, I instantly wanted to read this book. As part of the tour, the publisher has requested that the reviewers choose from science, health or spirituality to address in our reviews. This was a tough decision for me because all three of those topics are near and dear to me. I decided to go with science for my review because long before I became a Christian or had much interest in health, I was (and still am) fascinated by all things science. I have a Bachelor’s Degree in Biology and Chemistry and have spent my life with a love for science. I love science even more now that I know the Creator of science and can see the wonder of this creation.

I took an evolution course in college and always had some trouble buying it. After reading The Mysterious Epigenome, I am more amazed than ever by God’s attention to detail in how He created us. The world of science and genetics has come so far and the discovery of the epigenome fascinated me. I’ll not get into the nitty gritty of this book, but I will say that this book is not just for us science nerds. It is written in a way that is understandable and VERY interesting for those who just want to learn a little something about our perfect Creator and how He wired us right down to our DNA and beyond. This has been a fascinating time I spent with this book and I suspect that I am going to want to read it again because there has got to be somethings that I missed. I highly recommend this book. As Christians, I feel it is important for us to have some knowledge of science, especially as it pertains to how we were created. The Mysterious Epigenome is an excellent primer.

This book was provided for review by Kregel.

An Amish Family Reunion by Mary Ellis

2012-02-07T00:00:00.000-05:00

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Mary Ellis

and the book:

An Amish Family Reunion

Harvest House Publishers (February 1, 2012)

***Special thanks toKarri James of Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Mary Ellis is the author of A Widow's Hope, Never Far from Home, The Way to a Man's Heart, and Sarah's Christmas Miracle. She and her husband live in central Ohio, where they try to live a simpler style of life.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

During rumschpringe, Phoebe Miller meets Eli Riehl, who charms her with his exceptional storytelling ability. When he sees her sketches of his tales, Eli encourages her incredible talent, and they decide to write and illustrate a children’s book. But can their love for a good story develop into something that lasts forever?

Product Details:
List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (February 1, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736944877
ISBN-13: 978-0736944878

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

^{Winesburg, Ohio}

You would think that a person might be able to enjoy some peace and quiet on a Sunday afternoon. After all, it was the Sabbath—a day of rest. Yet Phoebe Miller found herself hiding behind a tree to escape from her family. There were just so many of them. Living next door to Aunt Julia and Uncle Simon guaranteed plenty of drop-in visits, impromptu potluck suppers, and more unsolicited advice than any seventeen-year-old girl needed. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family, because she certainly did. She simply needed more alone time than most people.

Holding her breath, Phoebe stood stock-still until Uncle Simon headed into the barn in search of her father and Aunt Julia entered the house looking for her mamm. Hannah wasn’t her mother by blood, but she had earned the title during the past twelve years of bandaging scrapes, helping with math homework, and remaining near while Phoebe suffered with the flu on long winter nights. She couldn’t remember her birth mother anymore. She had been only five when an impatient driver in a fast-moving truck decided to pass on a blind curve. It didn’t hurt much anymore. She had Hannah, her daed, and her little brother to love. They were all she needed…except, perhaps, for a little personal solitude.

Phoebe sucked in her gut as ten-year-old Ben ran across the yard, chasing his dog, who was chasing a rubber ball. When the two ducked under a fence into the cornfield, she ran pell-mell in the opposite direction, clutching her box of pencils and sketch pad tightly. She dared not look back for fear some cousin would be waving frantically from the porch. This time she didn’t stop to watch baby lambs nursing from their mothers or to pick a fistful of wild trilliums for her windowsill. On through the sheep pasture she ran until she reached her favorite drawing spot—an ancient stone wall constructed by long ago pioneers of Holmes County. Phoebe doubted these early settlers had been Amish. Not too many Amish men would take the time to painstakingly stack flat rocks just so to form a long fence line, not when dozens of tall trees fell over in the woods each winter that could easily be split into fence rails. And not when stampeding cows spooked by thunder, or marauding sheep needing no reason whatsoever to bolt, could knock the entire wall down within minutes. That was probably why this twenty-yard section was all that remained. But it was all Phoebe needed.

Settling comfortably on a smooth flat stone, she gazed over acres of rolling pasture, lush with thick clover and alive with honeybees and hummingbirds attracted to morning glories. Those climbing vines would entwine her if she sat too long. Beyond this pasture, where mamm’s beloved sheep frolicked and capered like small children, lay alfalfa and cornfields, peach and apple orchards, and stately pines in the distance. Like sentinels, they guarded the property line between their farm and the westerly neighbor, while a pond and lowland bog separated them from Uncle Simon and Aunt Julia to the east.

Phoebe turned to a fresh page in her oversized tablet and selected a charcoal pencil from the box. What would she draw today? Horses nibbling on fresh green grass? Sunlight glinting off dewy treetops at dawn, while the rest of the land remained cloaked in darkness? It was well past midday, but Phoebe had witnessed the dawn enough times to remember what it looked like. Maybe their three-story bank barn with open hayloft doors against a stark backdrop of pristine, unbroken snow? Everyone loved the serenity that could be found within a winter landscape. It didn’t matter that it was May—and an exceptionally warm day at that. A good artist worth her salt possessed a memory capable of retaining visual imagery until the moment she re-created those images on canvas…or in her case, on a sheet of white paper.

“I thought I would find you up here.”

Phoebe practically jumped out of her skin, dropping her sketch pad and spilling her box of colored pencils, charcoals, pastel chalk, and various erasers and sharpeners. “Dad! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” She fell to her knees to retrieve her supplies.

Seth Miller brushed off a spot on the wall and sat down. “You’re too young for a heart attack. And I wasn’t sneaking up on you. I came up the same path along the same fence that you took. You were too absorbed in your masterpiece to see me.”

With her supplies safely returned to the box, she plunked down next to him, clutching the tablet like a shield.

“Nothing is even started yet. I was waiting for the perfect inspiration.” She giggled, knowing how full-blown that sounded.

“Plenty of pretty scenery up here to pick from. It would be hard to narrow it down to just one thing.” Seth bumped his shoulder into hers.

Phoebe sighed. “Jah, but nothing I haven’t sketched a hundred times before.”

Seth shifted his position on the wall to offer his profile. “How about me? Or am I too old and wrinkled?”

She shook her head. “You’re not old, daed, even if you do have some serious crow’s feet.” She bumped his shoulder in return. “But once Uncle Simon caught me doing a portrait of cousin Emma and he scolded me. He said drawing a picture of an Amish person was no different than capturing their likeness with a camera.” Phoebe then lapsed into mimicking Uncle Simon’s stern voice, forgetting the person she was talking to for the moment: “ ‘As a deacon of this district, I won’t have my niece and my daughter committing such a sin.’ ”

Her father merely shrugged. “In that case, you could draw our old buggy horse. Now that he’s been turned out to pasture, we no longer have to worry about capturing his image.”

“I think I’ll stick to wildflowers today.” With her piece of charcoal, she pointed at clumps of purple violets, green mayapples, and elusive jack-in-the-pulpits. “Sam usually has too many flies buzzing around his head to contend with.”

Seth stretched out his long legs. “I saw you hiding from your bruder behind that tree. Has he been pestering you? Is that why you didn’t want him to follow you?” He shielded his face from the sun, deepening the wrinkles webbing his eyes.

“Oh, no. Ben’s been all right. It’s just that he’s ten years old. He doesn’t understand the concept of sitting still or remaining quiet. If I let him come with me down to the river or to the duck pond, he expects me to catch tadpoles or butterflies with him. Once he dropped a two-foot black snake at my feet and told me to draw him.” Phoebe met her father’s gaze. “I let him come along as seldom as possible without hurting his feelings.”

“Mind if I have a look-see?” Without waiting for her answer, Seth pulled the giant pad from her grasp.

For a moment Phoebe felt a familiar wave of panic. Her art was a private collection, showcasing her limited abilities. But the moment quickly passed. She was Phoebe Miller of Winesburg, Ohio, not Michelangelo of Italy. “Sure, why not?” she said, willing herself to relax.

Seth paged through her assortment of sketches, some barely begun and others filled with vibrant color and intricate shading. “These are quite good, daughter.” He paused to study a picture of a small child kneeling in prayer beside a trundle bed. With white walls and dark pine floorboards, and the girl’s black prayer kapp and white pinafore, the drawing was a contrast of light and shadows. One could feel the presence of God in the rays of moonlight streaming through the open window.

She smiled with pleasure, leaning over his arm. “That’s one of my favorites. Not bad for someone with no talent and no training, huh?”

He shook his head. “You have talent—make no mistake about that. And what kind of training does an artist need? Either a person has the gift or they don’t.”

“A few classes would have been nice in school. My teacher’s idea of art was coloring a seasonal mimeographed page. All the trees were green and every autumn leaf either red or gold. Everyone’s picture looked exactly the same.”

Seth dispensed his usual daed look. “Plain folk have no need for individuality as long as you’re known personally to God.” He shut the sketch pad and handed it back to her. “But providing you get your chores done, I see no harm in capturing the beauty of nature in your pictures.” He rose to his feet. “Which of the lilies of the field will my artist choose to draw today?” He waved his hand toward the multitude of flowers and weeds growing along the vine-shrouded wall. “It’s going to be time for the evening meal soon. Don’t be late, Phoebe. You know how your Uncle Simon hates not eating at the appointed hour.” Seth started down the path and did not glance back. He didn’t have to. He knew she wouldn’t be late for supper, or neglect her chores, or forget to say her nightly prayers…because she never did.

Phoebe was a good girl. She had never painted her face with makeup as Emma had during her rumschpringe, nor taken up with an English boy with a fast green truck. Everything was well and good now that Emma and James were married, raising two little boys, and sheep farming in nearby Charm. But when they first converted to New Order, both sets of parents lost more than one good night’s sleep.

And Phoebe had no desire to go into business like her cousin Leah. Running a diner with a business partner as naive as she had almost landed Leah in the county jail. Who knew not collecting sales tax to send to the State of Ohio was a crime? Phoebe shuddered remembering how long it had taken Leah to pay her share of the debt incurred by the diner. Meeting Jonah Byler had been the only good thing to come out of that fiasco. Apparently, he hadn’t been looking for a wife with any business savvy.

No, Phoebe was a good girl. She helped with cooking, cleaning, and laundry, and she did her fair share of gardening, canning, and berry picking despite having no particular fondness for domestic duties. Her mamm and Emma had their beloved sheep, along with the spinning, dyeing, carding, and weaving that came with the woolly creatures. Both women knitted such exquisite sweaters and sofa throws that tourists would pay more than a hundred dollars for one of their creations. Leah had her pie-making cottage industry. Bakeries throughout the county clamored for Leah Byler pies. But Phoebe’s heart had never thrilled over a particularly flaky piecrust or the perfect sweet-tart balance of her fruit filling. Only her art held any joy for her. Painting with acrylics from the Bargain Outlet or sketching people while they were unaware lifted Phoebe’s spirits like nothing else. Not exactly a practical pastime for someone Plain, but what else could she do?

With a sigh she selected a moss-covered log for today’s subject. The dark moist wood, where decay added a blackish-green hue, along with the sun-baked topside, striated and gnarly from wind and weather, would provide a stark background to delicate yellow buttercups in the foreground.

For almost an hour, feeling the warm sun on her face and a cool breeze on her neck, Phoebe surrendered to her creation. Adding a bold slash here or light shading there, the flowers on paper became almost as real as those growing near her feet. She lost herself in her work, unaware of hunger or thirst or the pesky hornet circling her head. Funny how mopping the floor, hanging laundry on the line, or slicing peaches for cobbler couldn’t hold her interest like this. When she was busy with those chores, all she could think about was snitching another cookie or refilling her glass with lemonade.

Finally, as the drawing neared completion, she leaned back with a satisfied sigh. There had to be something she could do with her “gift,” as her parents called it. She’d been out of school for three years, yet she seldom brought to the household income more than a few dollars from selling eggs. She’d once hung up an index card at the grocery store that announced “Artist for Hire” with her name and address at the bottom in block letters. She landed two commissions from the advertisement. One, a local farmer needed an autumn replacement for his produce market sign once peaches, organic lettuce, and berries were long gone. Phoebe created a four-foot by six-foot masterpiece showcasing colorful apples, pumpkins, butternut squash, eggplant, and Indian corn. She tried to turn down the second project. An elderly widow needed someone to actually paint the white picket fence around her vegetable patch. But, of course, her daedmade her take the job. Painting was painting, he declared.

Packing up her supplies, she started down the well-worn path to the rambling farmhouse filled with her parents, brother, aunt, uncle, and cousins. Lately, it felt as though she’d wandered into the wrong house but the residents were too polite to tell her. How could she live surrounded by affectionate and endearing people, yet still feel utterly, completely alone?

Julia stepped down from the buggy gingerly, always a little nervous to see if her legs would hold her. It had been years since her double knee-replacement surgery, yet she remained skeptical about the stainless steel substitute parts.

Simon took her arm to steady her. “Easy does it, fraa. Did you take your pills today?”

“Jah, of course, like I do every day. I’m just stiff from sitting. Run off now and find your brother. With these perfectly fine store-bought knees, we should have walked here. What’s the advantage of living next door to Seth and Hannah if we must drag out the horse and buggy even in perfect weather?” Julia leaned heavily on her husband’s arm despite her assertion that she could have walked half a mile through scrub forest and bog.

“I’m not running anywhere until you’re planted in one of Hannah’s kitchen chairs,” Simon insisted. “And our old gelding needs the exercise more than we do.”

“If Hannah sees you practically carrying me inside, she’ll start feeding me more of her herbal cures.” They paused midway to the house. “Boswellia, bromelain, yucca, turmeric, sea cucumber—do you know what those things taste like?” Julie wrinkled her nose. “I burped the other day, and it tasted like stagnant green pond water.”

“How is it you know what stagnant water tastes like?” Simon clutched her tightly around the waist as they reached the porch.

“I’d rather not say what my sister was like as a teenager.”

“Whatever she gives you to eat or drink, you’ll take without complaint. One of these days Hannah will land on a miracle cure that will have you skipping like a schoolgirl again.”

Julie gulped a deep breath and climbed the steps, clucking her tongue in disapproval. “Miracles from teas and tonics? And you—the district deacon. What’s gotten into you?” She reached for the door frame to steady herself.

“All miracles come from the Lord, but He uses a wide variety of delivery methods.” Simon kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you at supper.”

Julia waited until she stopped panting like a dog before entering her sister’s large, airy kitchen. “Hannah,” she called, finding the room empty.

Hannah Miller bustled into the room looking as fresh and cheery as she had ten years ago. Amazing what the lack of chronic pain did for a person’s appearance and attitude. “You’re alone?” she said, pulling aside the curtain. “Where are your daughters? I prepared way too much glazed ham and potato salad if the rest of your family isn’t coming to eat.” She left the window and carried tall glasses of iced tea to the table.

Julia smiled, lowering herself onto a chair. “Just Simon and myself, but I promise to eat ravenously. Henry will stop over later. He took the open buggy for a ride after spending hours yesterday polishing every inch with leather oil. I think he’s courting some gal, but when I drop subtle hints, he turns beet red and clams up.”

Hannah sat on the opposite side of the long table—a table large enough to seat the entire Miller clan. “You, subtle?” She winked one luminous green eye. “Julia, you’re as subtle as a blind bull in a spring pasture. Poor Henry, being the only one left at home. What about Leah? She’s not coming either?” Hannah laced her fingers over her still flat belly. “I was itching for one of her peach pies.”

“No fresh peaches yet. You would know that if you left your loom and spinning wheel once in a while. And all her canned peaches are gone. Anyway, she and Jonah are staying home today, as are Emma, James, and their two boys.” Julia leaned back in her chair. “I saw Ben chasing that dog of his, but where’s Phoebe?” She craned her neck to scan the living room. “Let me guess. She’s upstairs immortalizing the intricacies of a spider in her web instead of whacking it down with a broom.”

Hannah took a long swallow of tea. “Too warm upstairs in her room. She headed to the high pasture with her tablet. Seth walked up to check on her, although she can’t get lost or into any trouble up there. Still, he would prefer she stay within eyeshot of the house at all times.”

“I remember when you used to hide from people. Sometimes in the woods, sometimes down by the river when you first moved here from Lancaster. Especially whenever my Simon crawled up your neck.”

Hannah snorted dismissively. “I wasn’t hiding from your Simon. I was plotting how to snare Seth into my web, just like Phoebe’s pet spider. It wasn’t easy, but I ran away from him so often he finally caught me.”

The two enjoyed a chuckle. “The two Kline sisters marrying the two Miller brothers. It sure made things handy, no? Maybe that’s what your Phoebe does when she wanders off by herself. She’s plotting how to capture the eye of some hapless young man at the next social event. Isn’t she seventeen?”

“Almost eighteen. But no, she won’t go to singings. She says they make her nervous. She’ll only attend work frolics and quilting parties. Not too many eligible young men attend sewing bees.” Hannah finished her tea and rose to refill both glasses. “She says she has nothing in common with boys her age.”

“How would she know if she never steps out from behind your skirt? Has she ever talked to boys other than to say ‘Pass me the catsup?’ ” The words escaped Julia’s mouth before she could clamp her jaw shut. She mentally winced at her bad habit of overstepping the role of big sister. Running roughshod over folks—that’s how Simon referred to it.

“Phoebe’s still young. She has plenty of time. People aren’t marrying so early anymore, not like when we were that age.” Hannah tucked a stray lock of flaxen hair under her prayer kapp.

Julia rubbed her fingers one at a time. “She shouldn’t spend so much time alone. It’s not healthy.”

Hannah shot Julia a look that meant You’re treading dangerously close to thin ice. “I realize with both of your daughters married that you have no one to needle and advise. You can always go back to me to keep your talons razor sharp.”

“Ach, I would, but I threw my hands up years ago and declared you a hopeless case. You listen to advice as well as your sheep.” Julia stared out the window where the lilac bush was in full bloom without seeing the profusion of flowers. “At least your daughter has come a long way since you started courting Seth. How long did Phoebe go without speaking a single word—eight months, a year?”

Hannah paused to consider. “Almost a year and a half. Constance’s death pulled the rug out from under her feet. Seth was trying to cope with a household without his wife, along with his own grief. He was too busy and too distracted to notice a little girl in serious pain.” She furrowed her forehead as memories of some very difficult months returned. “Seth wasn’t spending enough time with her because he had suddenly twice as much on his plate. But how can you explain that to a five-year-old?”

“Then Phoebe watched all her daed’s attention being lavished on you.” Julia chanced a look at her sister.

Hannah scoffed. “‘Lavish’ would hardly describe Seth’s interest in me.”

“True enough. He erected quite a wall around himself while you patiently worked with Phoebe. Eventually, she came around and started talking again, but she’s still a very quiet child. No one would believe she was a Miller if she wasn’t the spitting image of Seth. They would have figured Constance discovered a foundling in the parking lot of Walmart and brought her home.”

Hannah’s smile looked bittersweet. “Seth didn’t like being told how to raise his daughter, did he, but eventually he ran out of choices and took my suggestions.” She shook off the reminiscence like a dog in the rain. “Now he dotes on the girl, as much as she’ll allow him, to the point of wrapping her in a cocoon. Pity the poor boys that come around when Phoebe starts courting. Seth will probably stand guard in the front room with his squirrel rifle across his chest.”

“I didn’t know Seth ever went hunting.” Julia lifted one eyebrow.

“He doesn’t. He inherited that relic of a firearm from his daed. Just don’t tell the young men that gun hasn’t been fired in twenty years.” They enjoyed a good belly laugh while Hannah started pulling side dishes from the refrigerator.

To feel useful, Julia pushed herself up from the table to get plates, glasses, and silverware. Sitting too long stiffened her arthritic joints, hastening the day when she would need more replacement parts. By the time Hannah carried the platter of sliced ham to the table, in trailed Seth, Simon, Ben, and Henry. Julia blinked at her son’s early appearance. “You’re back from your ride already, son?”

Henry’s ears reddened while he washed his hands at the sink. “I saw what I set out to see.” He slunk to a chair like a stray barn cat.

Phoebe slipped into the house then, joining them just in time for silent prayer. The moment everyone lifted their bowed heads and began passing bowls of food, Henry turned to his cousin. “After we eat, Phoebe, would you like to see my new filly?” Despite the fact he was a grown man at twenty-one, he blushed whenever he addressed females, even family members.

“Sure,” she agreed, popping a gherkin into her mouth. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Hardly anything. I picked her up at the Sugarcreek auction for a song. She had a mild limp, so other buyers passed her over.” He drained half his glass of milk.

Simon set down his fork, dabbing his beard with his napkin. “You bought a lame horse, son? What are we going to do with her if she’s not fit for the buggy or pulling a plow?”

Julia and Hannah exchanged a glance. Father and son had been down this road enough times to wear grooves in the pavement.

“She’s not lame, Dad. A slight limp, that’s all. And she’s much improved since I started applying liniment and wrapping the leg.” Henry built a sandwich with home-baked rye bread, several slices of ham, and hot pepper relish.

Simon grunted, picking up his coffee cup. “Could she at least pull a pony cart to earn her keep?”

“Eventually. Maybe.” Henry bit into the stack, rendering further speech impossible.

“Look at it this way—she is a filly and could turn into a fine brood mare someday.” Seth interjected his two cents’ worth into the conversation.

Simon’s brows beetled above the bridge of his nose, focusing on his brother. “We don’t have room for the horses we own now. They’re already two to a stall, and my horse pasture is grazed down to nubs by July. I’ll have to start feeding them oats and timothy year-round.”

“Maybe I’ll lease you some of our pastureland. Hannah’s flock is down this year. If you’re willing to pay me a fair price, that is.” Seth bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“I think it’s a fine thing you’re doing, nephew,” said Hannah, slicing pies at the counter. “Rescuing balky horses from the auction kill pen and then retraining them for useful lives is a noble calling.”

Julia watched Hannah aim her dazzling smile at Simon. After all these years, she still loved getting her brother-in-law’s goat.

“Jah, Hannah,” said Simon. “But the idea was to resell the horses at a profit and make a little income while he’s doing his good deed.”

“I have sold some,” said Henry, after swallowing another mouthful of sandwich. “Just last month I sold that three-year-old Morgan to the bishop’s son. He couldn’t believe the change that had come over that horse with two years of training.”

Simon rolled his eyes, pushing away his plate. “Two years for a Morgan to let someone put a saddle on his back?” His muttering was barely audible, knowing he was outnumbered by animal lovers in his brother’s home. “Fine, nursemaid your new filly. Just don’t turn my barn into the Miller Horse Sanctuary.”

Phoebe straightened up in her chair. Small and shy, it was easy to forget she was in the room. “That has a nice ring to it.” She flashed Henry a grin. “Would you like me to make you a sign to put down by the road? I could paint a stallion and mare, with a young filly in the foreground. I’m pretty good at drawing horses.” She winked one warm cocoa-brown eye at him.

Some of Julia’s tea slipped down her windpipe and then flew right out her nose as she gagged and coughed. The rest of the family laughed more moderately, except for her beloved husband, Simon. He simply stared at his favorite niece as though she’d grown a tail.

“Danki for your generous offer, Phoebe, but that won’t be necessary,” he said in his most patient voice. “Everyone in the county already knows the location of Henry’s save-a-horse society.” Simon reached for the largest slice of pie among the dessert plates.

Julia wiped her face and then left the table to blow her nose, trying to compose herself. She knew she needed to better control her drinking habits because she had a feeling it would be one long, hot summer.

My review of An Amish Family Reunion:

Very cautiously, I ventured into An Amish Family Reunion. Amish fiction is a genre that I struggle to enjoy, but this story sounded very appealing. Initially, it took me some time to get into this story and I found the dialogue somewhat lacking, but I eventually got used to that and the pacing of the story and really started to enjoy it.

I think I was most drawn to Phoebe because I have a lot in common with her, as far as her personality goes. When there is a book with a character I can really relate to, I tend to enjoy it much more. I also liked the fact that these characters were real. They were not cookie cutter Amish characters. Each had his or her own personality and his or her own problems, without there being too much drama.

An Amish Family Reunion was just right - not too slow, not too much drama and not too Amish. I have a short list of Amish fiction authors that I like and I think Mary Ellis is going to be added to that list if she always writes her stories this way. I am very difficult to please when it comes to Amish stories and I am very pleased with this one.

Winter Promise (Seasons of the Heart) by Martha Rogers

2012-02-06T00:00:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Martha Rogers

and the book:

Winter Promise (Seasons of the Heart)

Realms (January 3, 2012)

***Special thanks to Jon Wooten of Charisma House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Martha Rogers is the author of Becoming Lucy; Morning for Dove; Finding Becky; Caroline’s Choice; Not on the Menu, a part of a novella collection with DiAnn Mills, Janice Thompson, and Kathleen Y’Barbo; and River Walk Christmas, a novella collection with Beth Goddard, Lynette Sowell, and Kathleen Y’Barbo. A former schoolteacher and English instructor, she has a master’s degree in education and lives with her husband in Houston, Texas.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

A painful past has left Doctor Elliot Jensen uninterested in love.

Until he meets Abigail.

Single, educated, and looking for a new start, Abigail Monroe decides to join her brother and his wife in Portersville, Texas. Near her twenty-fifth birthday and without a suitor, she fears she will become a spinster if she stays in Briar Ridge, Connecticut.

A sprained ankle sends Abigail to the new doctor in town, Elliot Jensen. He is smitten, but tragedy in his past has left him bitter, guilt ridden, and afraid to fall in love again.

When the town’s deputy sheriff rescues Abigail after a robbery, Elliot’s feelings for her get stronger. He is jealous of the attention Abigail is getting, but he fears he can’t compete with the handsome deputy sheriff and his heroic deeds.

Has he waited too long to share his feelings for her? Or will Christmas bring them both the gift they seek?

Set in the late 1800s, the Seasons of the Heart series follows the lives of four women and their families, weaving together their stories of faith, life, and love as they bond in friendship only God could orchestrate.

Product Details:
List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Realms (January 3, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1616384980
ISBN-13: 978-1616384982

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Porterfield, Texas, 1890

Porterfield, next stop in ten minutes.” The conductor’s announcement sent the butterflies to dancing again in Abigail Monroe’s stomach. Ever since they entered the state of Texas,
her mind had flitted from one thing to the next in a series of images that blurred one into the other. What she remembered from her visit last spring had been enough to give her the
desire to return as a permanent resident.
All around her passengers began gathering their belongings and preparing to leave the train. Mrs. Mabel Newton, who had accompanied her on the trip, adjusted her hat and picked
up her handbag. “Well, your adventure will begin shortly.”
Abigail grinned at the elderly woman. If it had not been for Rachel’s aunt’s desire to come west to visit her daughter, this trip may have been delayed indefinitely. “Thank you so
much for coming with me, Aunt Mabel. You know how Father worried and didn’t want me to travel alone.” Abigail had fallen into calling the woman “Aunt Mabel” due to her close friendship with Rachel.
“And well he should have been. It isn’t safe for a young woman of your standing to be crossing the country by train without an escort.” She tilted her head toward Abigail, and the
feathers on the black hat covering her gray hair quivered with the movement.
Her parents had at first refused to even consider such a move for their only daughter, but as they began to realize that she was almost twenty-two years of age, their objections lessened.
They had been in Porterfield a few months earlier for the wedding of Daniel, Abigail’s brother who came to Porterfield a year ago as the town’s only attorney. Now he served as county attorney and prosecutor. When Mabel Newton had said she wanted to visit her daughter and niece, Father had finally agreed to let Abigail go.
Another factor in her decision to leave Briar Ridge had been Rachel Reed, her very best friend since childhood. Rachel’s husband, Nathan, had taken Daniel’s place as an
attorney for the citizens of Porterfield, and now they too lived in the Texas town. As far as Abigail was concerned, God had orchestrated a great symphony of opportunities, and she had
seized the score to become a part of the music.
“Aunt Mabel, do you think my plan for establishing a library is a sound one? Nathan and Daniel have found a building they think is suitable and will negotiate the purchase
of it if I approve.” “Every town needs a library whether they know it or not. Your brother and Nathan have good judgment, so the place must be about perfect.”
A snicker escaped Abigail’s throat. Daniel had always been her protector, and if the building suited him, it most definitely would suit her. She’d been so angry with him for leaving her
behind in Briar Ridge last year. Of course he thought it was because she’d miss him, but it was really because she’d been jealous of his new adventure.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you and that young Wentworth. He seemed very interested in you when you and Rachel were in Boston.”
Abigail had been interested too at first, but when she realized what all would be expected of her as the wife of a Wentworth, her interest cooled, and so had his. Now she had this new adventure ahead of her.
“It worked out for the best, but life became so dull in Briar Ridge without Rachel or Daniel that I could hardly bear it. I’d grown tired of entertaining with Mother and taking part on church committees. I want to do something on my own for a change.”
“I see. So the fact that Porterfield has an overabundance of single men of all ages didn’t have anything to do with your decision.” Aunt Mabel’s blue eyes sparkled with merriment.
Abigail’s cheeks filled with heat. She truly wasn’t interested in finding a husband anytime soon, even if other people thought so. The train whistle screeched through the early
afternoon air. Abigail clutched her handbag and closed her eyes. Please, Lord. Don’t let this be a mistake. Help me to dothe things I want to do for Porterfield with books and accept
whatever else You have planned for me.
The train stopped with a jolt that sent her forward with
a lurch. She assisted Aunt Mabel with her bag then followed
the older woman down the aisle. Dozens of people lined the
platform waving as the train emptied itself of its load of passengers.
As she stepped from the train car, Abigail scanned
the crowd, and her heart leaped with joy when she spotted
Rachel.
Rachel rushed forward and grabbed Abigail. “Oh, I’m so
glad you’re finally here. I thought the last three months would
never end.” Then she turned to hug her aunt. “I’m glad you’re
here too. With Seth, Sarah, Abigail, and you, I won’t feel at
all lonesome, not that I could the way the Muldoon clan has
taken us in.”
“When I met them at Daniel’s wedding, I knew they would make all of you feel right at home. I’m anxious to talk with Mrs. Sullivan again.” Abigail had been impressed with
the boardinghouse and looked forward to living there.
“You’ll get to see her soon enough. She’s waiting for you and has your room all ready. The Muldoons are having us all for dinner at the ranch tonight.”
That meant a quick study of the members of the Muldoon family would be in order before the trip out there. She hugged Rachel again and noted the glow in her eyes and face. “You
must really be happy here with Nathan.”
Before she could answer, Aunt Mabel stepped back and
eyed Rachel. “My dear, are you in the family way?”
Heat flooded Rachel’s cheeks, and she grinned. “Yes, I am, and so is . . . “ She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I almost slipped. She wants to tell everyone herself at dinner.”
Abigail ran through the list of possibilities. Kate? Erin? Sarah again? Whoever it was, the baby would be welcomed by many loving aunts, uncles, and cousins.
Arms wrapped around her shoulders from the back, and she craned her neck to see who it could be. “Daniel!” She turned and hugged her brother. “Isn’t this exciting? I’m here at last. We had a delightful train trip, and I can’t wait to see your new house. And where’s Kate?”
“Hey, slow down, little sister. No need to get it all out at once, but to answer your question, Doc Jensen and Elliot had an emergency at the infirmary, so she’s there. She said she’d meet us wherever we were when she finished.”
“I believe Aunt Mabel will be staying with Sarah and Donavan. At least that’s what she plans on. Mrs. Sullivan said she has a room for me at the boardinghouse, so that’s where I’m headed.”
Daniel frowned and peered at her. “But Kate is hoping you’ll live with us.”
“Oh, Daniel, you two are newly married. Besides, I’d rather be closer to town so I can take care of the library.” Kate and Daniel didn’t live far from town, but her staying at the boardinghouse would be less of an intrusion on their new marriage.
They headed toward the cart where the baggage had been unloaded. Aunt Mabel busied herself with telling Rachel all about the trip cross-country. Abigail gazed at the town beyond
the depot. Porterfield, Texas, would be her home now, and it looked just as friendly and nice as it had when she’d been here in the spring. A little more primitive than Briar Ridge, it still
had all the stores and businesses one could need, including a delightful bakery.
Daniel heaved down a trunk and headed to his surrey with it. Abigail walked along beside him and noted how the men stopped to stare. Her cheeks filled with heat. She may as well
be on display in a store window.
“I didn’t realize . . . never mind.” She grinned and hopstepped to keep up with her brother.
He pushed the trunk onto the floor behind the front seat.
“By the way, the building Nathan and I have in mind for you is across the street from the infirmary. It’s where the land offices were until the new courthouse opened. Now it’s vacant, and it’s just about the size you’ll need for the library.”
“I’m sure it will be fine if you and Nathan think so.” She shook her head and giggled as they headed back for more of her things. “I still can’t believe he and Rachel moved away from Connecticut. I always figured that when they did move, it would be to North Carolina, his home.”
Another man had joined the group and helped unload Aunt Mabel’s bags. She recognized him as one of Kate’s older brothers she had met at the wedding. What was his name? Oh, yes, Cory, the lawman and only single male in the Muldoon family, as well as one of the most handsome men Abigail had ever met.
Daniel grabbed her arm and took her over to greet him. “You remember Cory, one of Kate’s brothers.”
Abigail smiled and extended her hand. “I certainly do. You and your brothers were quite the pranksters at the wedding.”
Red tinged Cory’s well-tanned face. His eyes, more green than blue, sparkled with humor. He pushed his white Stetson back on his head, revealing sandy red curls on his forehead, much like her brother’s dark ones. “Guilty as charged, but we had to make up for not doing anything at Erin’s. Didn’t want to play tricks on the reverend.”
Getting to know the Muldoon family would be fun, but getting to know Cory might be even more so. Perhaps she should reconsider her decision not to become involved with any of the eligible young men in Porterfield.
Elliot finished the stitches to close the wound on the balding head of Cyrus Fuller. He’d tripped coming out of the bank and fell, cutting his head on the edge of the boardwalk. Elliot used five stitches to close it. “There, now, Mr. Fuller. You’ll be right as rain. Come back to see me in a few days and let me check on the stitches. Don’t get it wet for a while.”
He pushed back his rolling stool and picked up a bottle. “If you experience any pain, take a few drops of this and it should be all right, but don’t take more than a few drops. Understand?”
The bank teller nodded and took the bottle. “I do, and I won’t take it unless I really need it.” He stood and grasped the edge of the bed for support.
Kate Monroe picked up the tray with the suturing supplies and equipment. “Aunt Mae will make certain you’re comfortable, Mr. Fuller. She’ll take good care of you.”
The man’s face, including his bald head fringed in gray, turned a bright red. “I’m sure she will, but I don’t want her to go to any trouble.”
Kate laughed. “It won’t be any trouble. You know that.”
Elliot turned to put the bandages back in the cabinet to hide his smile. Everyone in town knew Cyrus Fuller was sweet on Aunt Mae, and she didn’t spurn his attention either. This
was one patient he wouldn’t have to worry about.
He walked with Mr. Fuller to the front door of the infirmary just to make sure the man was steady on his feet. At the door Cyrus shook Elliot’s hand. “Can’t thank you enough, Doctor Jensen. You did a fine job, and it hardly hurts at all. Tell your uncle I said hello.” He lifted his hat to set it on his head, felt the stitches, and promptly put his hand down, still holding the hat.
Mr. Fuller took off in the direction of the boardinghouse, a few blocks down the street. Elliot continued to observe the man as he made his way home. Satisfied that he was all right, Elliot turned to walk back inside when he spotted Daniel in a buggy with a young woman beside him. Her golden brown hair peeked from beneath a black hat trimmed with yellow flowers, which matched the yellow dress she wore. She shifted her gaze toward him and locked with his. Something inside Elliot clicked, and a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time came over him.
Elliot looked away and forced the emotion back into the deep recesses of his soul. He’d never let those feelings back into his life. They hurt too much.
A voice beside him caused him to blink his eyes and turn. “What did you say?”
Kate stood beside him. “I said that’s Abigail, Daniel’s sister. She was at his wedding, and she’s come to live here in Porterfield. Remember I told you about her coming to set up a
library for the town?”
“I remember.” But he never expected her to be so pretty. He cleared his throat and hurried back into the infirmary. He needed to clean up the room where they’d just worked on Mr.
Fuller, and it would help him forget the girl in yellow.
Kate’s voice followed him. “If you don’t have anything else for me, I’m going to run down to Aunt Mae’s and meet up with Daniel and Abigail. I’ll be there if you need me.”
He waved her out. Kate was a good assistant. He and his uncle had come to depend on her for so many things at the infirmary. Doc should be back shortly, that is if everything went well at the Blalocks’ place. Mrs. Blalock didn’t usually have trouble with her deliveries, and as this was the fifth one, no problems were anticipated today.
Cleaning up didn’t take long, and when he’d finished, Elliot went to the desk to fill out a report for Cyrus Fuller’s medical file. The image of Abigail Monroe swam before his eyes. Porterfield sadly lacked young women of marrying age, so Elliot had no trouble staying away from what social life existed in town. He’d left Ohio with the vow that he’d never become
involved with a young woman again. Everything had been fine until today when that little spark had jumped in his chest.
“I hear Cyrus Fuller had an accident. Get him all taken care of?”
Elliot jumped and dropped his pen. He greeted his uncle. “When did you come in? Yes, he’s fine. How did things go at the Blalocks?”
His uncle grinned and set his bag on the desk. “Just like it should. This little boy decided to take longer than necessary, but he’s good and healthy.” He removed his hat and hung it on
a hook then removed his coat. “I saw Daniel Monroe with a pretty young woman down at Mae’s. Must be his sister from back east.”
“It is. Kate was here to help with Cyrus, and then she left to go meet them.”
“She’s a pretty little thing from what I remember of last spring. It’ll be nice to have a young woman like her around her for a change. You, Cory, and Philip Dawes are about the most
eligible young men in town, and one of you ought to set your sights on her.”
“There’s a lot of men over at the sawmill, and many more on the ranches. That’s why Frank Cahoon and Allen Dawes sent off for those brides. Remember?” So many other men in town would take an interest in Abigail and keep her busy. He’d managed to stay clear of any kind of relationship so far, and that was just the way he wanted it. Never again did he want to feel the pain he’d experienced in Cleveland.

My review of Winter Promise:

I’ve probably said this before about Martha Rogers, but she is really becoming a favorite author for me. If I’m not mistaken, I have read every single one of her books and I have never not been thoroughly entertained by any of them. This particular series has been very good and I have read all of the books and Winter Promise was especially good.

It think what made this book so appealing to me about this book was the story itself. A lot of revolves around Elliot’s painful past and his inability to forgive himself. I think a lot of readers, myself included, can relate to what Elliot is experiencing. This can usually cause too much tension and drama in a romantic novel, but I did not find that to be the case here. There is enough going on and the characters are so real that the story really flowed beautifully. That has become a signature style of Martha’s and I love it. I am very excited to read the next book in this series and any other book written by this fantastic author.

Summer of Promise by Amanda Cabot

2012-02-05T20:27:00.004-05:00

About the book:

Though she had planned to spend the summer in Vermont, Abigail Harding cannot dismiss her concerns over her older sister. Charlotte's letters have been uncharacteristically melancholy, and her claims that nothing is wrong ring false, so Abigail heads west to Fort Laramie, Wyoming. When her stagecoach is attacked, Wyoming promises to be anything but boring. Luckily, the heroics of another passenger, Lieutenant Ethan Bowles, save the day.

Abigail plans to marry when she returns to Vermont, just as soon as she attends to her sister. As the summer passes, she finds herself drawn to this rugged land and to a certain soldier determined to persuade her to stay. When summer ends, will she go back East, or will she find her heart's true home?

My review of Summer of Promise:

I’m glad to be starting this series with the first book. I have read some of Amanda Cabot’s books before, but I have not read her previous series from start to finish. After reading Summer of Promise, I will definitely want to read this entire series. It did take me a little longer than usual to read this book because some of the story moved a little slowly for my liking, but what the story lacked in forward movement, Amanda made up for it with her characters and the beautiful setting. The setting really came to life in this story and this book would not have been as good without Amanda’s vivid descriptions.

Overall, Summer of Promise is a very enjoyable book. It had a few low spots, but sometimes when I’m reading a book like that it can be more relaxing to read. There was plenty of that. I would have liked to read it at my usual reading pace, but slowing down and taking a little extra time to read a book is never a bad thing. Amanda is excellent at developing a story, characters and adding those little details that mean a lot to a story. I am very eager for the next book in this series to come out to find out what happens next.

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

This book was provided for review by Revell.

The Harbinger by Johnathan Cahn

2012-02-04T00:00:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Jonathan Cahn

and the book:

The Harbinger

Frontline Pub Inc (January 3, 2012)

***Special thanks to Jon Wooten of Charisma House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Jonathan Cahn leads Hope of the World ministries and the Jerusalem Center/Beth Israel, a worship center made up of Jew and Gentile, people of all backgrounds, located in Wayne, New Jersey. His teachings are seen on television and radio throughout the nation and are known for their prophetic significance and their revealing of deep mysteries of God’s Word.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Is it possible…

That there exists an ancient mystery that holds the secret of America’s future?

That this mystery lies behind everything from 9/11 to the collapse of the global economy?

That ancient harbingers of judgment are now manifesting in America?
That God is sending America a prophetic message of what is yet to come?
Before its destruction as a nation, ancient Israel received nine harbingers, prophetic omens of warning. The same nine harbingers are now manifesting in America—with immediate ramifications for end-time prophecy.

Hidden in an ancient biblical prophecy from Isaiah, the mysteries revealed in The Harbinger are so precise that they foretold recent American events down to the exact days. The revelations are so specific that even the most hardened skeptics will find it hard to dismiss or put down. It sounds like the plot of a Hollywood thriller – with one exception… IT’S REAL.

The prophetic mysteries are revealed through an intriguing and engaging narrative the reader will find hard to put down. The Harbinger opens with the appearance of a man burdened with a message he has received from a mysterious figure called The Prophet. The Prophet has given him nine seals, each containing a message about America’s future. As he tells of his encounters with The Prophet, from a skyscraper in New York City, to a rural mountaintop, to Capitol Hill, to Ground Zero, the mystery behind each seal is revealed. As the story unfolds, each revelation becomes a piece in a greater puzzle – the ramifications of which will even alter the course of world history.

Product Details:
List Price: $16.99

Paperback: 272 pages
Publisher: Frontline Pub Inc (January 3, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 161638610X
ISBN-13: 978-1616386108

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

An Ancient Mystery
An ancient mystery that holds the secret of America’s future.”
“Yes.”
“What would I think?”
“Yes, what would you think?”
“I’d think it was a plot for a movie. Is that it? Is that what you’re presenting . . . a movie manuscript?”
“No.”
“A plot for a novel?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He was silent.
“Then what?” she repeated.
He paused to carefully consider what he was about to say and how to say it. Her reputation among those in media was that of a woman who neither wasted her time nor indulged those who
did. She was not known to suffer fools gladly. The discussion could meet an abrupt end at any given moment and there would be no second chance with her. The fact that there had even been a
meeting in the first place, that she had even agreed to it, and that he was now sitting in her office, high above the streets of Manhattan, was nothing short of a miracle—and he knew it. He had only one concern—the message. It didn’t even occur to him to remove his black leather overcoat, nor had anyone offered to remove it for him. Leaning forward in his chair, he gave her his answer, slowly, cautiously, carefully deliberating every word.
“An ancient mystery . . . that holds the secret of America’s future . . . and on which its future hangs. And it’s not fiction—it’s real.”
She was quiet. At first, he took the silence as a positive sign, an indication that he was getting through. But then she spoke and quickly dispelled the notion.
“An Indiana Jones movie,” she said. “An ancient mystery hidden for thousands of years under the sands of the Middle East . . . but now revealed . . . and upon it hangs the fate of the entire world!”
Her flippancy provoked him to become all the more resolute.
“But it’s not fiction,” he repeated. “It’s real.”
“What would I say?” she asked.
“Yes, what would you say?”
“I’d say you were crazy.”
“Perhaps I am,” he said with a slight smile. “Nevertheless . . . it’s real.”
“If you’re not crazy, then you’re joking . . . or you’re doing this all for dramatic effect . . . part of a presentation. But you can’t be serious.”
“But I am serious.”
She paused for a moment, staring into the eyes of her guest, attempting to ascertain whether he was sincere or not.
“So you are,” she said.
“So I am,” he replied, “and you have no idea how much so.”
It was then that her expression changed. Up to that point it had suggested a trace of amused interest. It now turned to that of total disengagement.
“No, I guess I don’t. Listen, I believe you’re a sincere man, but . . . I’m really . . . I’m really very busy, and I don’t have time for . . . ”
“Mrs. Goren.”
“That’s Goren. The accent’s on the last syllable. But Ana is fine.”
“Ana, you have nothing to lose by listening. Just go on the slight possibility . . . ”
“That you’re not crazy?”
“That too,” he said. “But the slight possibility that what I’m saying could actually be true, even the slight possibility that there could be something in what I’m telling you, even for that slightest
of possibilities . . . for just that . . . it would be important enough to warrant your time. You need to hear me out.”
She sat back in her chair and stared at him, making no attempt to hide her skepticism.
“You still think I’m crazy.”
“Fully,” she said.
“For argument’s sake, let’s say you’re right. I am crazy. Indulge me, as a public service.”
She smiled.
“I’ll indulge you, Mr. Kaplan, but there’s a limit.”
“Nouriel. You can call me Nouriel.”
At that, she got up from her chair and motioned for him to do likewise. She led him away from her desk to a small round conference table where the two sat down. The table was situated in
front of a huge glass window through which one could see a vast panorama of skyscrapers with similar windows, each reflecting the light of the afternoon sun.
“All right, Nouriel. Tell me about your mystery.”
“It’s not my mystery. It’s much bigger than me. You have no idea how big, or what it involves.”
“And what does it involve?”
“Everything. It involves everything, and it explains everything . . . everything that’s happened, that’s happening, and everything that’s going to happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Behind September 11 . . . ”
“How could an ancient mystery possibly have anything to do with September 11?”
“An ancient mystery behind everything from 9/11 to the economy . . . to the housing boom . . . to the war in Iraq . . . to the collapse of Wall Street. Everything in precise detail.”
“How? How could an ancient mystery possibly . . . ”
“Affect your life? Your bank account? Your future? But it does. And it holds the key to America’s future . . . to the rise and fall of nations . . . to world history. And it’s not only a mystery, it’s a message, an alarm.”
“An alarm?” she asked. “An alarm of what?”
“Of warning.”
“To whom?”
“America.”
“Why?”
“When you hear it,” he said, “you’ll understand why.”
“All this from a mystery that goes back . . . how far did you say?”
“I didn’t say.”
“So how far back does it go?”
“Two and a half thousand years.”
“A two-and-a-half-thousand-year-old mystery behind what’s happening in the twenty-first century from politics to the economy to foreign affairs—all that and you’re the only one who knows about it?”
“I’m not the only one.”
“Who else knows about it?” she asked.
“There’s at least one other.”
“Not the government? The government has no idea, even though it’s behind all that?”
“As far as I know, no government, no intelligence agency, no one else.”
“No one but you.”
“And at least one other.”
“And how did you happen to discover it?”
“I didn’t discover it,” he answered. “It was given to me.”
“Given? By whom?”
“A man.”
“And who was this man?”
“It’s hard to say.”
At this she leaned forward and spoke to him in a tone both intense and slightly sarcastic.
“Try me,” she said.
“You won’t understand.”
“What was his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” she replied, with a trace of amusement in her voice.
“No, he never told me.”
“So this earth-shattering mystery is known only by you and this one man who gave it to you but doesn’t have a name.”
“I didn’t say he didn’t have a name. He just never told it to me.”
“And you never asked?”
“I did, but he never told me.”
“No phone number?”
“He never gave me one.”
“No business card?”
“No.”
“Not even an e-mail?”
“I don’t expect you to believe me yet.”
“Why not?” she replied, making no attempt to hide her skepticism.
“It sounds so plausible!”
“But hear me out.”
“So this man with no name gives you this mystery.”
“That’s correct.”
“And why to you?”
“I guess I was the right one.”
“So you were chosen?”
“I guess so,” he replied, his voice trailing off.
“And where did he get the mystery from?”
“I don’t know.”
“A mystery on which the nation’s future is hanging, and no one knows where it came from?”
“From where do prophets get their messages?”
“Prophets!” she said. “So now we’re talking prophets?”
“I guess we are.”
“As in Isaiah . . . Jeremiah?”
“Something like that.”
“The last time I heard about prophets I was in Sunday school, Nouriel. Prophets don’t exist anymore. They’ve been gone for ages.”
“How do you know?”
“So you’re telling me that the man who gave you this revelation is a prophet?”
“Something like that.”
“He told you he was a prophet?”
“No. He never came out and said it.”
“And you believe all this because it came from a prophet?”
“No,” he answered. “It wouldn’t have mattered who said it. It’s not about the messenger; it’s about the message.”
“So why are you telling me all this? Why did you come here? I’m not exactly known for dealing with anything remotely like this.”
“Because the stakes are so high. Because the future is hanging on it. Because it affects millions of people.”
“And you think I have a part in this?”
“I do.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
She leaned back in her chair and stared at him for a moment, intrigued, amused, and still trying to figure him out.
“So, Nouriel, tell me how it all began.”
He reached into his coat pocket, laid his closed hand down on the table, then opened it. In the middle of his palm was a small object of reddish, golden-brown clay, circular and about two inches in diameter.
“It all began with this.”
He handed it to her. She began examining it. The more she looked at it, the more intrigued she became. It was covered with what appeared to be ancient inscriptions.
“It all began with this.”
“And what is it?”
“It’s a seal,” he answered. “It’s the first seal.”

My review of The Harbinger:

This is a challenging review to write because The Harbinger is not your average, ordinary book. Yes, it is considered Suspense Fiction, but there really isn’t much fiction here. There was a time when I considered people who felt that 9/11 was God’s judgment on this country to be crazy, frankly. I still find that to be a very risky statement to make, but in The Harbinger, Johnathan Cahn has been given the vision and wisdom from God to see, from a biblical perspective, this concept as he draws the parallels of modern times in America to ancient Israel.

This book has done something to change my feelings about the possibility that God is judging this country because He wants us to turn back to Him. We as a nation, have drifted away from Godly ways and principles and He is reaching His hands out to us to bring us back to Him. He has clearly given us the warning signs, which Johnathan lays out in fascinating detail in The Harbinger. The similarities between our modern times and ancient Israel are way too striking for it to be a coincidence.

This is not my garden variety book review because The Harbinger is not your everyday, run-of-the-mill book. It is a very carefully drawn out warning for our country. If we heed the warning, God will bless us and put up that hedge of protection. I personally find that to be amazing and comforting. This book is certainly a must read, not for the entertainment value, but the eternal value.

Every Body Matters by Gary Thomas

2012-02-03T08:46:00.006-05:00

About the book:

Every Body Matters explores how positively addressing our physical condition can lead to a fortified soul better able to serve and love others. Through confessional and engaging stories of people who intentionally got physically fit as a way to grow spiritually, Thomas draws a fresh, compelling, non-judgmental body/soul correlation.

Few pastors or Christian writers have dared to approach the subject of how proper eating and an active lifestyle can affect how we serve God. Author Gary Thomas does just that. And he reaches all the way back to the apostle Paul, who wrote that we need to prime our bodies to become, "an instrument for noble purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work." To illustrate the body/soul correlation, Thomas presents engaging and diverse stories that include a young mom who got fit through volleyball and reaped spiritual rewards in her marriage, a 300-pound pastor who realized his obesity was eroding his ministry impact, and a woman who gained the spiritual strength to survive a contentious divorce by training for a marathon. In every instance, Thomas makes a direct connection between the physical challenge and its spiritual consequence. This book is a must read for anyone seeking new and compelling motivation for strengthening their bodies and fortifying their souls.

My review of Every Body Matters:

I am living proof that taking care of our physical condition directly affects our spiritual condition. When I was overweight and suffering from fibromyalgia, my spiritual life was almost non-existent. I could not enjoy attending church or times of fellowship. I was about as sick and unhappy as I could get and I was not a good testimony to God’s greatness. Now that I have taken control of my health and allowed God to heal me, things are very different for my spiritual life.

It is for these reasons I really wanted to read Every Body Matters. The subject of weight and healthy lifestyle is a difficult one to bring up with a congregation, but it truly is necessary. Gary Thomas tackles this issue with openness and depth and in a non-judgmental way. He’s been there and he knows how difficult (and necessary) it is to lose weight. He shares his wisdom and experiences with his readers to help them realize that God wants to live at our healthiest levels so we can serve Him.

I am a firm believer in taking the best possible care of myself. Not because I idolize fitness and nutrition, but because God created me to be healthy and serve Him. Every Body Matters is an important book for Christians to read and adopt as part of their healthy spiritual life and worship.

For more information about Every Body Matters and to read a sample visit the Zondervan
website.

This book was provided for review by Zondervan.

In Too Deep by Mary Connealy

2012-02-02T20:01:00.002-05:00

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing In Too Deep Bethany House (February 1, 2012) by Mary Connealy

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Mary Connealy writes romantic comedy with cowboys. She is a Christy Award Finalist, a Carol Award Finalist and an IRCC Award finalist.

The Lassoed in Texas Series, Petticoat Ranch, Calico Canyon and Gingham Mountain. Petticoat Ranch was a Carol Award Finalist. Calico Canyon was a Christy Award Finalist and a Carol Award Finalist. These three books are now contained in one large volume called Lassoed in Texas Trilogy.

The Montana Marriages Series, Montana Rose, The Husband Tree and Wildflower Bride. Montana Rose was a Carol Award Finalist.

Cowboy Christmas—the 2010 Carol Award for Best Long Historical Romance, and an Inspirational Readers Choice Contest Finalist.

The Sophie's Daughters series. Doctor in Petticoats, Wrangler in Petticoats, Sharpshooter in Petticoats.

She is also the author of; Black Hills Blessing a 3-in-1 collection of sweet contemporary romances, Nosy in Nebraska, a 3-in-1 collection of cozy romantic mysteries and she's one of the three authors contributing to Alaska Brides with her Carol Award Winning historical romance Golden Days.

ABOUT THE BOOK

In 1866 Colorado, Ethan Kincaid agrees to a marriage of convenience with the same casual disregard he gives every decision. Audra Gilliland, young mother of two, accepts his proposal because she wants to stop being a burden to her newly married stepdaughter. And suddenly both of them are in far deeper than they'd planned.

Ethan doesn't expect Audra to affect him so profoundly, and when she begins to, he's terrified of the pain he's felt before when someone he loved was seriously injured on his watch. He's determined that his new wife will do as he says so he can keep her safe from the dangers that lurk on their ranch. Audra has been cared for all her life by one man or another--and they've done a poor job of it. Now she's planning to stand up for herself. And her new husband had better agree or get out of her way!

What will it take to transform two wayward hearts fearful of getting in too deep into two trusting hearts ready to risk falling deeply in love?

If you would like to read the first chapter of In Too Deep, go HERE.

Watch the book trailer:

My review of In Too Deep:

It was inevitable. I knew this day would come. It is a happy day indeed. I have read several of Mary Connealy’s books now and I have always had a lukewarm reaction to them. I knew that because of her huge fan base that it would be only a matter of time before I would find a book by her that would delight me. In Too Deep was that book. I read Out of Control last year and I did like it better than any of Mary’s other books, but this one just worked for me and I am so glad.

I think a big part of my delight was simply the story. It was just plain good and with Mary’s trademark humor, it made for a book that I feel has caused me to turn the corner with Mary’s books. I have a new appreciation for her work and I can definitely see why she has such loyal fans. If she keeps entertaining me this much, I’ll soon be one of those fans.

I have always like Mary’s humor, but she also has very likeable characters and they were especially likeable in this book. If you are already a fan of Mary Connealy, I can assure you, you will love In Too Deep. If you are new to Mary’s books, you will love it. I am a happy reader after finishing this quick and entertaining story.

Everything Romance: A Celebration of Love for Couples by David Bordon and Tom Winters

2012-02-01T09:24:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card authors are:

David Bordon and Tom Winters

and the book:

Everything Romance: A Celebration of Love for Couples

WaterBrook Press (December 20, 2011)

***Special thanks to Ashley Boyer, Publicist, WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group of for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHORS:

David Bordon and Tom Winters are partners in Bordon-Winters, LLC, a book concept and packaging company that produces successful books and gift products. Among their previous titles are the popular “101 Things You Should Do” series. This volume joins another one of their beautiful gift books, Everything Christmas.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Everything Romance is a gift book overflowing with heartwarming ideas to keep that special relationship fresh and exciting. Whether you’re a newlywed or celebrating 40 years of wedded bliss, this book offers a treasury of ways to capture your love’s heart daily. Love letters, inexpensive date night suggestions, tantalizing recipes, conversation starters, and inspiring love stories will all help you romance the love of your life in creative and meaningful ways!

Product Details:
List Price: $14.99

Hardcover: 288 pages
Publisher: WaterBrook Press (December 20, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0307729311
ISBN-13: 978-0307729316

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

A Marriage Blessing

Most gracious God, we give You thanks for Your tender love in sending Jesus Christ to come among us, to be born of a human mother, and to make the way of the cross to be the way of life.

We thank You, also, for consecrating the union of man and woman in His name. By the power of Your Holy Spirit, pour out the abundance of Your blessing upon this man and this woman. Defend them from every enemy. Lead them into all peace. Let their love for each other be a seal upon their hearts, a mantle about their shoulders, and a crown upon their foreheads. Bless them in their work and in their companionship; in their sleeping and in their waking; in their joys and in their sorrows; in their life and in their death. Finally, in Your mercy, bring them to that table where Your saints feast forever in Your heavenly home; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with You and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, forever and ever.

Amen.
(from The Book of Common Prayer)

PERFECT PAIR PIZZA-PITA SNACKS

2 whole-wheat pita breads
4 teaspoons basil pesto
1 cup cottage cheese
2 tablespoons Roma tomatoes, chopped
2 teaspoons fresh basil, chopped
Fresh Parmesan cheese (optional)

Toast pita breads until they are crispy and firm. Spread half of the pesto on each pita. Next, spread half of the cottage
cheese on each pita. Top with chopped tomato and fresh basil. If desired, sprinkle with fresh grated parmesan cheese. Slice each pita into two or four wedges and enjoy!

Romance Trivia

A team of medical experts in Virginia contends that you’re more likely to catch the common cold virus by shaking hands than by kissing.

Excerpted from Everything Romance by David Bordon and Thomas J. Winters Copyright © 2011 by David Bordon and Thomas J. Winters. Excerpted by permission of WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

My review of Everything Romance:

A couple years ago David Bordon and Thomas Winters published a book called Everything Christmas. It is a wonderful and beautiful book that I continue to enjoy. I was so excited to see that they wrote Everything Romance, just in time for Valentin'es Day. This book is just as wonderful as Everything Christmas. I love to pick it up and open it and just start reading. Some things I have read more than once and I'm sure there are some things that I have missed, but I will get to them. The cover of this book is beautiful, but it truly amazes once you open the book. It just calls out to be read and enjoyed. There's some humor, poetry, recipes and stories of romance and love.

I highly recommend this book for the romantic in all of us. It would also make a great gift for Valentine's Day, but it really can be useful all year because we should be showing love everyday, not just on Valentine's Day.

Threads of Hope by Andrea Boeshaar

2012-01-31T00:00:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Andrea Boeshaar

and the book:

Threads of Hope
(Fabric of Time)

Realms (January 3, 2012)

***Special thanks to Jon Wooten of Charisma House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Andrea Kuhn Boeshaar is a certified Christian life coach; a popular speaker at writers’ conferences, workshops, and women’s groups; and the author of numerous published books, including the Seasons of Redemption series: Unwilling Warrior, Uncertain Heart, Unexpected Love, and Undaunted Faith.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Kristin Eikaas has her hopes set on a new life in America.

The year is 1848, and Kristin Eikaas has traveled from Norway to Wisconsin with dreams of a new life. But when she arrives, she finds one disappointment after another. Worse, her superstitious uncle now believes that his neighbor’s Oneida Indian wife has put a curse on Kristin. Everyone knows the Sundbergs put spells on people…

Everyone except Kristin. Her run-ins with Sam Sundberg only prove that he is a good man from a Christian family. But when her uncle discovers she’s been associating with Sam, his temper flares. To escape his wrath, Kristin gratefully accepts a job as the Sundbergs’ house girl, finding solace at the family’s spinning wheel.

In the time Sam and Kristin spend together, their friendship develops into much more, and Sam prays about a match between them. But opposition threatens to derail their newfound love. Will they have the courage to stand up for what is right—even against their own families?

Product Details:

List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 304 pages

Publisher: Realms (January 3, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1616384972

ISBN-13: 978-1616384975

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

September 1848
It looks like Norway.
The thought flittered across nineteen-year-old Kristin Eikaas’s mind as Uncle Lars’s wagon bumped along the dirt road. The docks of Green Bay, Wisconsin, were behind them, and now they rode through a wooded area that looked just as enchanting as the forests she’d left in Norway. Tall pine trees and giant firs caused the sunshine to dapple on the road. Kristin breathed in the sweet, fresh air. How refreshing it felt in her lungs after being at sea for nearly three months and breathing in only salty sea air or the stale air in her dark, crowded cabin.
A clearing suddenly came into view, and a minute or so later, Kristin eyed the farm fields stretched before her. The sight caused an ache of homesickness. Her poppa had farmed . . .
“Your trip to America was good, ja?” Uncle Lars asked in Norwegian, giving Kristin a sideways glance.
He resembled her father so much that her heart twisted painfully with renewed grief. Except she’d heard about Onkel—about his temper—how he had to leave Norway when he was barely of age, because, Poppa had said, trouble followed him.
But surely he’d grown past all of that. His letters held words of promise, and there was little doubt that her uncle had made a new life for himself here in America.
Just as she would.
Visions of a storefront scampered across her mind’s eye—a shop in which she could sell her finely crocheted and knitted items. A shop in which she could work the spinning wheel, just as Mor had . . .
Uncle Lars arched a brow. “You are tired, liten niese?”
“Ja. It was a long journey.” Kristin sent him a sideways glance.
“I am grateful I did not come alone. The Olstads made good traveling companions.”
Her uncle cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “But you have brought my inheritance, ja?” He arched a brow.
“Ja.” Kristin thought of the priceless possession she’d brought from Norway.
“And you would not hold out on your onkel, would you?”
Prickles of unease caused Kristin to shift in her seat. She resisted the urge to touch the tiny gold and silver cross pendent suspended from a dainty chain that hung around her neck. Her dress concealed it. She couldn’t give it up, even though it wasn’t legal for a woman to inherit anything in Norway. But the necklace had been her last gift from Mor. A gift from one’s mother wasn’t an inheritance . . . was it? “No, Onkel.”
She turned and peered down from her perch into the back of the wooden wagon bed. Peder Olstad smiled at her, and Kristin relaxed some. Just a year older, he was the brother of Kristin’s very best friend who had remained in Norway with their mother. She and Peder had grown up together, and while he could be annoying and bad tempered at times, he was the closest thing to a brother that she had. And Sylvia—Sylvia was closer than a sister ever could be. It wouldn’t be long, and she and Mrs. Olstad would come to America too. That would be a
happy day!
“You were right,” John Olstad called to Uncle Lars in their native tongue. “Lots of fertile land in this part of the country. I hope to purchase some acres soon.”
“And after you are a landowner for five years, you can be a citizen of America and you can vote.” The Olstad men smiled broadly and replied in unison. “Oh, ja, ja . . . ”
Uncle Lars grinned, causing dozens of wrinkles to appear around his blue eyes. His face was tanned from farming beneath the hot sun, and his tattered leather hat barely concealed the abundance of platinum curls growing out of his large head. “Oh, ja, this is very good land. I am glad I persuaded Esther to leave the Muskego settlement and move northeast. But, as you will soon see, we are still getting settled.”
“Ja, how’s that, Lars?”
Kristin heard the note of curiosity in Mr. Olstad’s voice.
“I purchased the land and built a barn and a cabin.” He paused and gave a derisive snort. “Well, a fine home takes time and money.”
“Oh, ja, that way.” Mr. Olstad seemed to understand.
And Kristin did too. One couldn’t expect enormous comforts out in the Wisconsin wilderness.
Just then they passed a stately home situated on the Fox River. Two quaint dormers peered from the angled roof, which appeared to be supported by a pair of white pillars.
“That is Mr. Morgan Martin’s home. He is a lawyer in town.”
Uncle Lars delivered the rest of his explanation with a sneer. “And an Indian agent.”
“Indians?” Kristin’s hand flew to her throat.
“Do not fret. The soldiers across the river at Fort Howard protect the area.”
Kristin forced her taut muscles to relax.
“Out here the deer are plentiful and fishing is good. Fine lumber up here too. But the Norwegian population is small. Nevertheless, we have our own church, and the reverend speaks our language.”
“A good thing,” Mr. Olstad remarked.
“I cannot wait for the day when Far owns land,” Peder said, glancing at Mr. Olstad. “Lots of land.” The warm wind blew his auburn hair outward from his narrow face, and his hazel eyes sparked with enthusiasm, giving the young man a somewhat wild appearance. “But no farming for me. I want to be rich someday.”
“As do we all!” exclaimed Mr. Olstad, whose appearance was an older, worn-out version of his son’s.
Kristin’s mind had parked on land ownership. “And once you are settled, Sylvia will come to America. I cannot wait. I miss her so much.”
She grappled with a fresh onset of tears. Not only was Sylvia her best friend, but she and the entire Olstad clan had also become like family to her ever since a smallpox epidemic ravaged their little village two years ago, claiming the lives of Kristin’s parents and two younger brothers. When Uncle Lars had learned of the tragic news, he offered her a place to stay in his home if she came to America. Onkel wrote that she should be with her family, so Kristin had agreed to make the voyage. Her plans to leave Norway had encouraged the Olstads to do
the same. But raising the funds to travel took time and much hard work. While the Olstads scrimped and saved up their crop earnings, Kristin did spinning, weaving, knitting, and sewing for those with money to spare. By God’s grace, they were finally here.
Uncle Lars steered the wagon around a sharp bend in the rutty road. He drove to the top of a small hill, and Kristin could see the blue Lake Michigan to her left and farm fields to her right.
Then a lovely white wood-framed house came into view. It didn’t look all that different from the home they’d just past, with dormers, a covered front porch, and stately pillars bearing the load of a wide overhang. She marveled at the homestead’s large, well-maintained barn and several outbuildings. American homes looked like this? Then no wonder Mr. Olstad couldn’t wait to own his own farm!
Up ahead Kristin spied a lone figure of a man. She could just barely make out his faded blue cambric shirt, tan trousers, and the hoe in his hands as he worked the edge of the field. Closer still, she saw his light brown hair springing out from beneath his hat. As the wagon rolled past him, the man ceased his labor and turned their way. Although she couldn’t see his eyes as he squinted into the sunshine, Kristin did catch sight of his tanned face. She guessed his age to be not too much more than hers and decided he was really quite handsome.
“Do not even acknowledge the likes of him,” Uncle Lars spat derisively. “Good Christians do not associate with Sam Sundberg or any members of his family.”
Oh, dear, too late! Kristin had already given him a little smile out of sheer politeness. She had assumed he was a friend or neighbor. But at her uncle’s warning she quickly lowered her gaze.
Kristin’s ever-inquiring nature got the best of her. “What is so bad about that family?”
“They are evil—like the Martins. Even worse, Karl Sundberg is married to a heathen Indian woman who casts spells on the good people of this community.”
“Spells?” Peder’s eyes widened.
“Ja, spells. Why else would some folks’ crops fail while Karl’s flourish? He gets richer and richer with his farming in the summer, his logging camps in the winter, and his fur trading with heathens, while good folks like me fall on hard times.”
“Hard times?” Peder echoed the words.
“Ja, same seed. Same fertile ground. Same golden opportunity.”
Uncle Lars swiveled to face the Olstads. “I will tell you why that happens. The Sundbergs have hexed good Christians like me.” He wagged his head. “Oh, they are an evil lot, those Sundbergs and Martins. Same as the Indians.”
Indians? Curiosity got the better of her, and Kristin swung around in the wagon to get one last glimpse of Sam Sundberg. She could hardly believe he was as awful as her uncle described. Why, he even removed his hat just now and gave her a cordial nod.
“Turn around, niese, and mind your manners!” Uncle Lars’s large hand gripped her upper arm and he gave her a mild shake.
“I . . . I am sorry, Onkel,” Kristin stammered. “But I have never seen an Indian.”
“Sam Sundberg is not an Indian. It is his father’s second wife and their children. Oneida half-breeds is what we call them.”
“Half-breed, eh?”
Kristin glanced over her shoulder and saw Peder stroke his chin.
“Interesting,” he added.
“How very interesting.” Kristin couldn’t deny her interest was piqued. “Are there many Indians living in the Wisconsin Territory?”
“Ja, they trespass on my land, but I show my gun and they leave without incident. Sundberg brings his Indian wife to church.” He wagged his head. “Such a disgrace.”
“And the Territory officials do nothing?” Mr. Olstad asked.
Uncle Lars puffed out his chest. “As of three months ago, we are the State of Wisconsin—no longer a territory.” Uncle Lars stated the latter with as much enthusiasm as a stern schoolmaster. “Now the government will get rid of those savages once and for all.” He sent Kristin a scowl. “And you, my liten niese, will do well to stay away from Indians. All of them, including our neighbors, the Sundbergs. You hear, lest you get yourself scalped.”
“Ja, Onkel.”
With a measure of alarm, Kristin touched her braided hair and chanced a look at Peder and Mr. Olstad. Both pairs of wide eyes seemed to warn her to heed Uncle Lars’s instructions. She would, of course. But somehow she couldn’t imagine the man they’d just passed doing her any harm. Would he?

Sam Sundberg wiped the beads of perspiration off his brow before dropping his hat back on his head. Who was the little blonde riding next to Lars Eikaas? Sam hadn’t seen her before. And the men in the wagon bed . . . he’d never seen them either.
After a moment’s deliberation he concluded they were the expected arrivals from the “Old Country.” Months ago Sam recalled hearing talk in town about Lars’s orphaned niece sailing to America with friends of the family, so he assumed the two red-haired men and the young lady were the topics of that particular conversation. But wouldn’t it just serve Mr. Eikaas right if that blonde angel turned his household upside down—or, maybe, right-side up?
He smirked at the very idea. Sam didn’t have to meet that young lady to guess Mr. Eikaas would likely have his hands full. Her second backward glance said all Sam needed to know.
The word plucky sprang into his mind. He chuckled. Plucky she
seemed, indeed.
But was she wise enough not to believe everything her uncle said?
Sam thought it a real shame. Years ago Pa and Lars Eikaas had been friends. But then Pa’s silver went missing, insults were traded, and the Eikaases’ prejudice against Ma, Jackson, and Mary kept the feud alive.
The Eikaas wagon rolled out of sight, leaving brown clouds of dust in its wake. A grin threatened as Sam thought again of that plucky blonde’s curious expression. Maybe she did have a mind of her own. Now wouldn’t that be something? Sam thanked God that not everyone around here was as intolerant of Wisconsin Natives as the Eikaas family. There were those who actually befriended the Indians and stood up to government officials in their stead. Like Pa, for instance. Like Sam himself.
The blistering sun beat down on him. Removing his hat once more, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He started pondering the latest government proposal to remove the Indians from their land. First the Oneida tribe had been forced out, and soon the Menominee band would be “removed” and “civilized.” As bad as that was, it irked Sam more to think about how the government figured it knew best for the Indians. Government plans hadn’t succeeded in the past, so why would they now? Something else had to be done. Relocating the Menominee would cause those people nothing but misery. They’d stated as much themselves. Furthermore, the Indians, led by Chief Oshkosh, were determined not to give up their last tract of land. Sam predicted this current government proposal would only serve to stir up more violence between Indians and whites.
But not if he and Pa could help it.
In the distance he heard the clang of the dinner bell. Ma didn’t like him to tarry when food was on the table. Across the beet field, Sam saw his younger brother run on ahead of him. He wagged his head at the twelve-year-old and his voracious appetite.
With one calloused hand gripping the hoe and the other holding the bushel basket, Sam trudged toward their white clapboard home. Its two dormers protruded proudly from the second floor.
Entering the mudroom, he fetched cold water from the inside well, peeled off his hat, and quickly washed up. Next he donned a fresh shirt. Ma insisted upon cleanliness at the supper table. Finally presentable, he made his way into the basement where the summer kitchen and a small eating area were located. The cool air met his sun-stoked skin and Sam sighed, appreciating the noonday respite.
Next he noticed a cake in the middle of the table.
“That looks good enough to eat,” he teased, resisting the urge to steal a finger-full of white frosting.
Ma gave him a smile, and her nut-brown eyes darkened as she set the wooden tureen of turkey and wild rice onto the table. “Since it’s Rachel’s last day with us, I thought I would prepare an extra special dessert.”
Sam glanced across the table at the glowing bride-to-be. In less than twenty-four hours Rachel Decker would become Mrs. Luke Smith. But for the remainder of today she’d fulfill her duties as Ma’s hired house girl who helped with the cooking, cleaning, sewing, washing, and ironing whenever Ma came down with one of her episodes, which were sometimes so intensely painful that Ma couldn’t get out of bed without help. Rachel had been both a comfort and an efficient assistant to Ma.
“I helped bake the cake, Sam.”
He grinned at his ten-year-old sister, Mary. “Good job.”
They all sat down, Mary taking her seat beside Rachel. Sam helped his mother into her place at the head of the table then lowered himself into his chair next to Jackson, who’d been named after Major General Andrew Jackson, the seventh president of this great country.
“Sam, since your father is away,” Ma began, “will you please ask God’s blessing on our food?”
“Be glad to.” He bowed his head. “Dearest Lord, we thank Thee for Thy provisions. Strengthen and nourish us with this meal so we may glorify Thee with our labors. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
Action ensued all around the table. The women served themselves and then between Sam and Jack, they scraped the bowl clean.
“Good thing Pa’s not home from his meetings in town,” Jack muttered with a crooked grin.
“If your father were home,” Ma retorted, “I would have made more food.”
“Should have made more anyhow.” Jack gave her a teasing grin. “No seconds.” He clanged the bowl and spoon together as if to prove his point.
“You have seconds on your plate already,” Ma said. “Why, I have never seen anyone consume as much food as you do, Jackson.”
His smile broadened. “I’m growing. Soon I’ll be taller than Sam.”
“Brotherly competition.” Sam had to chuckle. But in the next moment, he wondered if his family behaved oddly. Didn’t all families enjoy meals together? Tease and laugh together? Tell stories once the sun went down? According to Rachel, they didn’t. The ebony-haired, dark-eyed young woman had grown up without a mother and had a drunkard for a father . . . until Ma got wind of the situation and took her in. She invited Rachel to stay in the small room adjacent to the kitchen and offered her a job. Rachel had accepted. And now, years later, Rachel would soon marry a fine man, Luke Smith, a friend of Sam’s.
Taking a bite of his meal, he chewed and looked across the table at Mary. Both she and Jack resembled their mother, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and graceful, willowy frames, while Sam took after his father, blue eyes and stocky build, measuring just under six feet. Yet, in spite of the outward dissimilarities, the five Sundbergs were a closely knit family, and Sam felt grateful that he’d known nothing but happiness throughout
his childhood. He had no recollection whatsoever of his biological mother who had taken ill and died during the voyage from Norway to America.
Sam had been but a toddler when she went home to be with the Lord, and soon after disembarking in New York, his father met another Norwegian couple. They helped care for Sam and eventually persuaded Pa to take his young son and move with them to Wisconsin, known back then as part of the “Michigan Territory.” Pa seized the opportunity, believing the promises that westward expansion touted, and he was not disappointed.
He learned to plant, trap, and trade with the Indians, and he became a successful businessman. In time, he saved enough funds to make his dreams of owning land and farming a reality.
Then, when Sam was a boy of eight years, his father met and married Mariah, an Oneida. Like her, many Oneida were Christians and fairly well educated due to the missionaries who had lived among them. In time Sam took to his new mother, and she to him. Through the years Ma cherished and admonished him as though he were her own son. She learned the Norwegian language and could speak it fluently. As far as Sam was concerned, he was her own son—and Mariah, his own mother.
They were a family.
“Was that the Eikaas wagon driving by not long ago?” Mary asked.
Sam snapped from his musing. “Sure was. It appears they have relatives in town.”
“Mr. Eikaas didn’t stop and visit, did he?” Mary’s eyes were as round as gingersnaps.
Sam chuckled. “No, of course not. I can’t recall the last time Lars Eikaas spoke to me . . . or any of the Sundbergs, for that matter.”
“Erik is nice to me at school.” Mary took a bite of her meal.
“Glad to hear it.”
“I can’t wait to begin school next week.”
Sam grinned at his sister’s enthusiasm. He’d felt the same way as a boy.
“Sam, what made you assume Mr. Eikaas transported relatives in his wagon today?”
He glanced at Ma. “A while back I’d heard that Lars’s niece was coming to America, accompanied by friends, and since I didn’t recognize the three passengers in the wagon this morning, I drew my own conclusions.”
“Is she pretty?” Jackson’s cheeks bulged with food.
“Is who pretty?”
“Mr. Eikaas’s niece . . . is she pretty?”
Sam recalled the plucky blonde whose large, cornflower-blue eyes looked back at him with interest from beneath her bonnet. And pretty? As much as Sam hated to admit it, she was about the prettiest young lady he’d ever set eyes on.
Jackson elbowed him. “Hey, I asked you a question.”
Sam gave his younger brother an annoyed look. “Yeah, I s’pose she’s pretty. But don’t go getting any big ideas about me courting her. She’s an Eikaas.”
“You’re awful old to not be married yet.” Jack rolled his dark eyes.
“What do you know about it? I’m only twenty-one.” Sam grinned. “Hush up and eat.” It’s what the boy did best. “So . . . did everyone have a pleasant morning?” He forked another bite of food into his mouth, wondering why he tried so hard to shift the subject off of Lars Eikaas’s niece.

Kristin looked around the one-room shanty with its unhewn walls and narrow, bowed loft. Cotton squares of material covered the windows, making the heat inside nearly unbearable.
Disappointment riddled her being like buckshot. Although she knew she should feel grateful for journeying safely this far, and now to have a roof over her head, she couldn’t seem to shake her displeasure at seeing her relatives’ living quarters. It looked nothing like her uncle had described in his letters nor the homes she’d glimpsed on the way.
“Here is your trunk of belongings,” Uncle Lars said, carrying the wooden chest in on one of his broad shoulders. With a grunt, he set it down in the far corner of the cabin. “Where is my inheritance? Let me have a look at it.”
“Right now, Onkel?”
“Ja, ja . . .” Impatience filled his tone.
Pulling open the drawstring of her leather purse, she reached inside and extracted the key. She unlocked the trunk and opened its curved lid. Getting onto her knees, Kristin moved aside her clothes and extra shoes until she found what she searched for. Poppa’s gold watch. She held the black velvet-covered box reverently in her hands for one last, long moment before she stood and presented it to her uncle.
“This belonged to my poppa.”
“Ah . . .” Uncle Lars’s face lit up with delight as he opened the box. Looking to Aunt Esther, he nodded. “This will bring a fair price, do you think?”
Disbelief poured over her. “But . . . you would not sell Poppa’s watch, would you?”
“None of your business!”
Kristin jumped back at the biting reply. Her opinion of her uncle dropped like a rock into a cavern.
“Anything more?” Her uncle bent over the wooden chest and quickly rummaged through it, spilling clothes onto the unswept floor.
“Onkel, please, stop. My garments . . .”
“Does not seem to be anything else.” Uncle Lars narrowed his gaze. “Is there?”
“No.” The necklace Mor had given her burned against her already perspiring skin. Still, Kristin refused to part with the gift. “Nothing more. As you know, Poppa was a farmer. He supplemented his income by working at the post office, but no money was ever saved. After my parents died, I sold everything to help pay for a portion of my passage to America. I earned the rest myself.”
“Any money left?”
Kristin shook her head as she picked up the last of her belongings, careful not to meet her uncle’s stare. A little money remained in the special pocket she’d sewn into her petticoat. For safety, she’d kept her funds on her person throughout the entire voyage. The last of her coinage would purchase muchneeded undergarments. She’d managed to save it throughout the journey for the specific purpose of buying new foundations when she reached America. It wasn’t inherited. She’d worked hard for it.
With a grunt Uncle Lars turned and sauntered out of the cabin.
“You will sleep in the loft with your cousins.” Aunt Esther’s tone left no room for questions or argument. Wearing a plain, brown dress with a tan apron pinned to its front, and with her dark brown hair tightly pinned into a bun, the older woman looked as drab as her surroundings. “Your uncle and I sleep on a pallet by the hearth.”
“Yes, Tante. I am sure I will be very comfortable.” Another lie.
“Come, let us eat.” Aunt Esther walked toward the hearth where a heavy black kettle sat on top of a low-burning fire. “There is venison stew for our meal.”
“It sounds delicious.” Kristin’s stomach growled in anticipation. She’d eaten very little on the ship this morning. Excitement plus the waves on Lake Michigan made eating impossible. But after disembarking in Green Bay, her stomach began to settle, and now she was famished.
Aunt Esther called everyone to the table, which occupied an entire corner of the cabin. Her three children, two girls and one boy, ranging in ages from seven to sixteen, came in from outside, as did the Olstads. After a wooden bowl filled with stew was set before each person, the family clasped hands and recited a standard Norwegian prayer . . .
I Jesu navn gar vi til bords,—We sit down in the name of Jesus,
Spise drikke pa ditt ord,—To eat and drink according to Your
Word,
Deg Gud til are, oss til gavn,—To Your honor, Oh Lord, and
for our benefit,
Sa far vi mat i Jesu navn.—We receive food in the name of
Jesus.
Amen.
Having said grace, hands were released, and everyone picked up a spoon and began to eat. Kristin noticed her cousins, Inga and Anna, eyeing her with interest. They resembled their father, blonde curls and blue eyes.
“What do you like to do on sunny afternoons such as this one?” she asked cheerfully, hoping to start conversation. After all, Inga’s age was close to hers. Perhaps her cousin would help her meet friends.
“We do not talk at the table,” Aunt Esther informed her. “We eat, not talk.”
“Yes, Tante.” Kristin glanced at Peder and Mr. Olstad who replied with noncommittal shrugs and kept eating.
Silently, Kristin did the same. The Olstads always had lively discussions around their table.
When the meal ended, the girls cleared the table and the men took young Erik and ambled outside.
“May I help with cleaning up?” Kristin asked her aunt.
“No. You rest today and regain your strength. Tomorrow we are invited to a wedding, the day after is the Sabbath. Then beginning on Monday, you will labor from sunup to sunset like everyone else in this place.”
“Except for one,” Inga quipped. No one but Kristin heard.
“Who?” Her lips moved, although she didn’t utter a sound.
“Far, that is who.” Disrespect seeped from Inga’s tone, which was loud and clear.
Hadn’t Aunt Esther overheard it?
Tante suddenly whirled around and glared at Kristin. “Do something with yourself. We are working here.”
With a frown, Kristin backed away. Her aunt’s brusque manner caused her to feel weary and more homesick than
ever. She missed her parents and her little brothers. Why did God take them, leaving her to live life without them? And Sylvia . . . how she longed for her best friend!
Kristin knelt by the trunk and carefully lifted out a soft, knitted shawl that had once belonged to her mother, Lydia Eikaas. Mor had been an excellent seamstress, expert in spinning wool into yarn and thread, as well as in weaving and sewing garments. She’d taught Kristin everything she knew about the craft. Surely Kristin could now put her skills to good use in this new country, this land of opportunity.
She sighed and glanced over to where her aunt and two cousins continued straightening up after the meal. Inga and Anna barely smiled, and her aunt’s expression seemed permanently frozen into a frown. Is that what this country really afforded . . . misery?
Allowing her gaze to wander around the dismal cabin once more, Kristin began to wish she had not come to America.

My review of Threads of Hope:

I love to read Christian fiction, especially romances. I often find that there are a lot of stories that seem to blend in with one another and some stories are told by more than one author. This is actually not a criticism because I love so many of these stories, but I did find that Threads of Hope stands apart from many other historical romances I have read. That was what defined my reading experience here. This is an interesting story with a lot of complicated situations and characters who were complex.

I think I have only read one other book by Andrea Boeshaar, but after reading Threads of Hope I want to read all of them. This book was such a pleasant surprise for me as a reader because of the originality of the story. There really was not anything about this book that I did not like. It was difficult to like certain characters, but at least they were real and believable. Kristin was so easy to like and I felt so bad for her and her disappointments after coming to America in search of the American dream. I am so excited about this new series by Andrea and I am so excited that I have started reading it with the first book. I absolutely do not want to miss a single book in this series or written by this author who I think is going to become a favorite if she keeps writing like this.

Never the Same by B.C. Fleming

2012-01-30T21:30:00.006-05:00

About the book:

On one calm morning in late July 2006, a ten vehicle convoy departed its Forward Operating Base in southeastern Afghanistan. Destination: KANDAHAR. Less than five hours later one soldier awoke, burned and bloody, in a ditch on the side of the road.

This is the story of Sergeant B.C. Fleming. A Team Leader in a Reconnaissance Platoon with the US Army's 10th Mountain Division, Fleming recounts his grueling experience of waging war in the high-desert mountains of Afghanistan. From being shot at to getting blown up TWICE to delivering humanitarian aid to impoverished children, he candidly describes "the real story" of the war in Afghanistan as he experienced it.

His story is one of truth, pain, sacrifice, soul-searching, and the unthinkable adversity American troops overcome daily in order to protect and defend the American people.

My review of Never the Same:

I know that Sergeant Fleming would just say he was doing his job, but really, he is an American hero. He is the reason we have freedom. I will never tire of hearing stories about heros like him. As the daughter of a Vietnam veteran, my respect for those brave men and women who make huge sacrifices for this great country is enormous.

Never the Same is the story of Sergeant Fleming's journey from nearly being killed in a roadside bomb to rehabilitation and recovery. He has an incredible story to tell and he tells it in this book with vivid and painful detail. This book is so hard to put down because he wrote it with such honesty and emotion. He includes some pictures that really bring his experiences to life. I can't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for him, but this book helps give readers some idea of what he went through. If I could be face to face with Sergeant Fleming, I would thank him from the bottom of my heart for his sacrifice and I would thank him for sharing his story and his faith through this book. He is a strong testimony and I highly recommend this book for anyone who wants to be inspired.

To learn more about B.C. Fleming, visit his website at www.blownupguy.com.

This book was provided for review by The B&B Media Group, Inc.

Beauty Will Change the World by Brian Zahnd

2012-01-30T00:00:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Brian Zahnd

and the book:

Beauty Will Save the World: Rediscovering the allure and mystery of Christianity

Casa Creacion (January 3, 2012)

***Special thanks to Jon Wooten of Charisma House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

I’m a full-time pastor, an erstwhile author, and a would-be mountaineer. I am the lead pastor of Word of Life Church in Saint Joseph, Missouri. I am the author of several books, most recently *Unconditional* and *What To Do On The Worst Day Of Your Life*

I became a Christian as a teenager through a dramatic encounter with Jesus during the height of the Jesus movement. Almost immediately I was holding Bible studies in High School, leading a coffeehouse ministry and preaching in whatever church was crazy enough to let a long-haired Jesus freak into the pulpit. Seven years after my life-changing encounter with Jesus I started Word of Life Church in a broken down Methodist church building. For the first seven years we struggled and remained small, but since that time God has allowed me to be a pastor to thousands. It never ceases to amaze me.

My great passion is for the King and His Kingdom. I’ve been led on my never-ending adventure of exploring the Kingdom of the Heavens by these five signpost words: Cross, Mystery, Eclectic, Community, Revolution. I could talk for hours on these five words that revolve around Jesus, but this is supposed to be a short bio.

My wife Peri and I have done some pretty improbable things by daring to believe God. It has made our life an adventure—not always easy, but always an adventure…and in the end, always good.

We have three sons: Caleb, Aaron and Philip, and two daughter-in-laws, Ashlie and Sarah. They’re awesome.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

In today’s world we have technology, convenience, security, and a measure of prosperity, but where is the beauty?

For thousands of years, artists, sages, philosophers, and theologians have connected the beautiful and the sacred and identified art with our longing for God. Now we live in a day when convenience and practicality have largely displaced beauty as a value. The church is no exception—even salvation is commonly viewed in a scientific and mechanistic manner and presented as a plan, system, or formula.

In Beauty Will Save the World, Brian Zahnd presents the argument that this loss of beauty as a principal value has been disastrous for Western culture—and especially for the church. The full message of the beauty of the gospel has been replaced by our desires to satisfy our material needs, to empirically prove our faith, and to establish political power in our world—the exact same things that Christ was tempted with—and rejected—in the wilderness.

Zahnd shows that by following the teachings of the Beatitudes, the church can become a viable alternative to current-day political, commercial, and religious power and can actually achieve what these powers promise to provide but fail to deliver. Using stories from the lives of St. Francis of Assisi and from his own life, he teaches us to stay on the journey to discover the kingdom of God in a fuller, richer—more beautiful—way.

Product Details:

List Price: $15.99

Paperback: 256 pages

Publisher: Casa Creacion (January 3, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1616385855

ISBN-13: 978-1616385859

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Form and Beauty

This is a book about beauty and Christianity—or perhaps about the beauty of Christianity. We are all attracted to beauty. We desire it, we admire it, we recognize it when we see it. We have an innate instinct for beauty, even if the definition of what beauty actually is can be a bit unwieldy. In an academic sense, beauty is generally
understood as a combination of color, shape, and form that we find aesthetically pleasing. That is a rather bland description of beauty, but even if the definition is inadequate, we do understand that beauty has a form. This is important. Whether it’s a painting or a poem or a sculpture or a song, beauty has a form. Form is central to beauty. Distortion of a beautiful form takes away from its beauty. Obviously it’s even possible for a beautiful thing to become so distorted and deformed that it loses most or all of its beauty. When this happens, it’s a kind of vandalism.
Think of a beautiful stained-glass window, an artistic combination of color, shape, and form. Imagine a stained-glass masterpiece in a great cathedral, perhaps depicting a scene
from the life of Jesus. Now try to imagine a vandal lobbing bricks through that window. The beautiful combination of color and form has been broken, and beauty has been lost. It is a tragedy, and we are saddened. What we hope for now is some kind of restoration—we hope that beauty can be recovered. We hope for this because one way of viewing life is as an ongoing struggle to create, preserve, and recover what is beautiful. This is why art is not merely a leisure pursuit but serious business, because, quite simply, life should be made as beautiful as possible.
But this is not a book about art appreciation. This is a book about Christianity and about making it beautiful. Christianity in its proper form is a transcendent beauty. The story of Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection is not only the greatest story ever told, but it’s also the most beautiful story ever told. Christianity as the ongoing expression of the Jesus story lived out in the lives of individuals and in the heart of society is a beauty that can
redeem the world. That is an almost outlandish statement, but I believe it!
Yet I also recognize that Christianity can be distorted. It can be twisted out of shape. It can lose its beautiful form. When this happens, Christianity is not only less than beautiful; it can at times be blatantly ugly. It has happened before. What I fear is that we are in danger of losing our perspective of what is most beautiful about Christianity and accidentally vandalizing our faith with the best of intentions. I fear the vandalism has already begun. This book is about what can be done and how Christianity can recover its form and beauty through a new kind of reformation.

Ecclesia reformata semper reformanda—The church reformed and always reforming.

This Latin phrase was one of the mottoes of the Protestant Reformation—a reminder and an acknowledgment that for the church to remain true to its mission and witness and to retain its beauty, the church must constantly be reforming itself. Of course, semper reformanda doesn’t mean the church should mindlessly engage in change for the sake of faddish novelty or trendy innovation. That’s not what I’m talking about. Rather semper reformanda comes from the realization that there are forces—political, social, theological, spiritual, and so forth—that over time tend to twist the church and the gospel out of shape. As a result the church must continually seek to recover the true form and original beauty found in the gospel of Jesus Christ. This kind of reformation is an ongoing process.
There is indeed a sense in which the need for some measure of reformation is always present, but there are also times when the need for reformation (think re-formation) is more critical than others. There are times when the distortion of the church is severe enough that the integrity of our message is compromised. I’m convinced the evangelical church in the Western world is facing just such a crisis. Putting it as plainly as I can, evangelical Christianity needs to recover the form and beauty that are intrinsic to Christianity. We need a reformation because we are being twisted out of shape. Let me try to explain how this has happened.
The stories of evangelicalism and America are deeply intertwined in much the same way that the stories of Catholicism and the Roman Empire are intertwined. Evangelical Christianity came of age during America’s rise to superpower status on the world stage. America, untethered from European Christendom and their vassal state churches, provided an environment conducive for evangelical Christianity, and evangelical Christianity has flourished in the American environment. (By evangelical I mean the expression of Protestant Christianity characterized by a dual emphasis on the authority of Scripture and a personal conversion experience—this is evangelicalism at its best.) So far
so good. But there is always a particular temptation faced by the church when it is hosted by a superpower. The temptation is to accommodate itself to its host and to adopt (or even christen) the cultural assumptions of the superpower.
This is nothing new. The long history of the church bears witness to the reality and seductive power of this temptation. The historic problem the Greek Orthodox Church struggled with in the East sixteen hundred years ago was the temptation to be too conformed to the Byzantine Empire. At the same time, the historic problem the Roman Catholic Church struggled with in the West was the temptation to be too conformed
to the Roman Empire. And I dare to suggest (or even insist!) that the problem that is distorting American evangelicalism is that it has become far too accommodating to Americanism and the culture of a superpower. This is fairly obvious. You don’t have to be a sociologist to recognize that the American obsession with pragmatism, individualism, consumerism, materialism, and militarism that so characterizes contemporary America has come to shape (and thereby distort) the dominant form of evangelical Christianity found in North America. It becomes American culture with a Jesus fish bumper sticker. If we are unwilling to engage in critical thought, we will simply assume that this is Christianity, when in reality it is a kind of Christianity blended with many other things.
To be born in America is to be handed a certain script. We are largely unconscious of the script, but we are “scripted” by it nevertheless. The American script is part of our nurture
and education, and most of it happens without our knowing it. The dominant American script is that which idolizes success, achievement, acquisition, technology, and militarism. It is the script of a superpower. But this dominant script does not fit neatly with the alternative script we find in the gospel of Jesus Christ. So here is our challenge: when those who confess Christ find themselves living in the midst of an economic and military superpower, they are faced with the choice to either be an accommodating chaplain or a prophetic challenge. Over the last generation or so, evangelicalism has been
more adept at endorsing the dominant script than challenging it. And in conforming too closely to the dominant script of Americanism, the Christianity of the American church has become disfigured and distorted and is in desperate need of recovering its true form and original beauty through a process of re-formation. We need to bear the form and beauty of the Jesus way and not merely provide a Christianized version of our cultural assumptions.
In order to recover the true form and original beauty that is integral to Christianity, we need an ideal form, a true standard, an accurate template, a faithful model to which we can look, to which we must conform. For historic Christianity this has always been Jesus Christ upon the cross, which is a holy irony, since crucifixion was designed to be ghastly and hideous. But this is the mystery of the cross. The crucifixion of Jesus Christ, which attains in retrospect an eternal glory and beauty through the resurrection, is the axis of Christianity around which everything else revolves. Thus the cruciform (the shape of a cross) is the eternal form that endows Christianity with its mysterious beauty. Simply put, the cross is the form that makes Christianity beautiful! The cross is the beauty of Christianity because it is at the cross that we encounter co-suffering love and costly forgiveness in its most beautiful form.
But the question is, can we see the beauty of the cruciform? In a culture that idolizes success, can we see beauty in the cross? In a culture that equates beauty with a “pretty
face,” can we see past the horror of a grisly execution and discern the sacred beauty beneath the surface? This is what artistic representations of the cruciform are capable of capturing and why their work is invaluable. The artist doesn’t give us a journalistic photograph of an event, but an artistic interpretation of an event. The great masters of sacred art were both artists and theologians; through their work they have given us an artistic interpretation that reveals the inherent, but hidden, beauty of the cross. Consider the cruciform and try to apprehend its beauty. The Christ upon the cross, arms outstretched in the gesture of proffered embrace, refusing to call upon avenging angels but instead loving his enemies and praying for their forgiveness—this is the form and beauty of Christianity. The cruciform is the posture of love and forgiveness where retaliation is abandoned and outcomes are entrusted to the hands of God. The cross is laden with mystery. At first glance it looks like anything but success. It looks like failure. It looks like defeat. It looks like death. It is death. But it is also the power and wisdom of
God. This is mysterious. It is also beautiful. This is the mysterious beauty that saves the world.
The cruciform is the aesthetic of our gospel. It is the form that gives Christianity its unique beauty. It is what distinguishes Christianity from the dominant script of a superpower. But the beauty of the cruciform is a beauty communicated in a mystery. To those who value only conventional power and crass pragmatism—which is always the tendency of a superpower—the cruciform looks like folly, weakness, defeat, and death. It is not conventional beauty. But to those who have eyes to see, the cruciform shows forth a transcendent beauty—the beauty of love and forgiveness. It is the beauty of Christ’s
love and forgiveness as most clearly seen in the cruciform that is able to save us from our vicious pride and avaricious greed.
This is relevant to our situation because pride and greed are often pawned off as virtues in the culture of a superpower. Pride and greed are the engines of expansion, and as such they tend to be reworked as attributes. It was true in first-century Rome, and it’s true in twenty-first-century America. We’re told to “take pride in ourselves” and reminded that “we’re number one.” We sing about how proud we are to be Americans (even in church!). Plus there’s always someone new buying into Ayn Rand’s objectivist philosophy of self-interest and explaining to us with great passion how “greed is good.” But our Scriptures give a minority report; they tell us that pride and greed are the pliers that have distorted our humanity into a sinful ugliness. We must see the beauty of Christ in the cruciform and understand that it is only the beauty of self-sacrificing love that can
save us from pride and greed. This is the beauty Dostoevsky correctly and prophetically spoke of when he said, “Beauty will save the world.”
The church always faces the temptation to turn its gaze from the beauty of the cruciform and look instead to “the kingdoms of the world and their splendor.” The beauty of the cruciform is a subtle and hidden beauty, like the enigmatic smile of Mona Lisa. The splendor of Babylon is brash, like the garish lights of Las Vegas. When we lose sight of the subtle beauty of the cruciform we become seduced by the power, prestige, and pragmatism of politics. To borrow Tolkien’s theme, we become seduced by the ring of power. The ring of power is the enemy of beauty. It was the ring of power—“my precious”—that transformed the humanlike Sméagol into the reptilian Gollum. In like manner, the church begins to devolve from beauty into a distorted form less beautiful the moment it reaches for the ring of power.
But we reach for the ring of power nevertheless. We find it almost irresistible. Of course we supply ourselves with copious reasons as to why our fascination with conventional power is a good thing: “We want to have power to do good.” “We want to make a difference in the world.” “We have to take a stand against evil.” But without realizing it, we are being subtly seduced into thinking there is a better way to go about achieving righteousness and justice (think beauty) than by taking up the cross and following Jesus. We begin to think that if we can just get Caesar on our side, if we can just get the emperor to hold a National Prayer Breakfast, we can then baptize the ways and means of the empire and at last accomplish “great things for God.” And here’s the thing: Caesar is
more than willing to employ the church as a chaplain, as long as the church will endorse (with a bit of religious flourish) the ways and means of the empire. Of course the ways and means of the empire are the ways and means of political and military domination. There’s no beauty in that. Politics is never pretty. Everyone knows that. Thus the church sacrifices the beauty of Christianity when it chooses the political form over the cruciform.
Reaching for the ring of power distorts our beauty.
But why would we do it? Why would we sacrifice the enchanting beauty of Christianity for the ugly machine of politics? Because political power is so—and there’s no other word for it—pragmatic. We’re convinced “it works.” What could be more simple? Here’s the formula. Just put good people in positions of power and good things will happen. (Such thinking is very close to the wilderness temptation Jesus faced; more on that later.) We are easily seduced by the clear logic of political pragmatism. But we need to remember that God does not save the world through the clear logic of political pragmatism (though Jesus was tempted by the devil, and even by his own disciples, to attempt it). Instead, God saves the world through the ironic and mysterious beauty of the cruciform. To achieve good through attaining political and military dominance has
always—always!—been the way of the fallen world. We seem to lack the imagination to envisage any other way. But it’s not the Jesus way. It’s not the beautiful way. It’s not the way of the cruciform.
Jesus does not save the world by adopting the ways and means of political pragmatism and becoming the best Caesar the world has ever seen. Instead Jesus saves the world by suffering the worst crime humanity is capable of—the crime of deicide (the murder of God). On the cross Jesus absorbed our hate and hostility, our vengeance and violence into His own body and recycled it into love and forgiveness. By his wounds we are healed. By this beauty we are saved.
The third-century theologian Origen observed that “the marvel of Christ is that, in a world where power, riches, and violence seduce hearts and compel assent, he persuades and prevails not as a tyrant, an armed assailant, or a man of wealth, but simply as a teacher of God and his love.”1 Commenting on this, David Bentley Hart says, “Christ is a persuasion, a form evoking desire. . . . Such an account [of Christ] must inevitably make an appeal to beauty.”2 I absolutely agree! Christ persuades, not by the force of Caesar, but by the beauty of love.
I assume that every Christian would agree with the idea that what Jesus did in his death was beautiful and that somehow this beautiful act is central to our salvation. But the challenge is to translate the beauty of the cruciform into contemporary Christianity—especially a contemporary Christianity obsessed with power and politics. The beauty of the cruciform by which Jesus saves the world through an act of co-suffering love and
costly forgiveness is the same beauty that must characterize the church if we are to show forth the glory of the Lord in our world. But it’s the beauty of cruciform love that is most
marred when we allow the Christian faith to be politicized.
A politicized faith loses its beauty very quickly. I know, because I was once an enthusiastic participant in the process of faith-based politicization. I was willing to subtly, and at times not so subtly, align my church with partisan political agendas. Senators and congressman would visit my church to give their testimonies (always around election time). We handed out “voter guides” so those not paying close enough attention would know how to vote. We found ways to make the elephants and donkeys of the American political process somehow analogous to the sheep and goats in Jesus’s parables. But for me that came to an abrupt end in a fairly dramatic fashion.
In September of 2004 in the heat of a volatile presidential campaign I was asked to give the invocation at a political rally where one of the vice presidential candidates was
appearing. I agreed to do so. I remember well the acrimony outside the convention center where protestors and supporters were busy hurling ugly epithets at one another. Inside the convention center the crowd was being whipped into a political frenzy that amounted to “hurray for our side!” As I sat on the platform with the political acolytes, and me as their rent-a-chaplain, I began to squirm. I knew I was being used. I was a pawn in a political game. I felt like a tool. (And a fool!) When it came time for me to pray (for which the unstated purpose was to let it be known that God was squarely on our side), I stepped to the podium and first prayed silently, “God, what am I doing here? I’ve made a mistake. I’m sorry.” I then offered a largely innocuous prayer and left as soon as I could, promising myself and God that I would never do anything like that again. But in leaving the convention center I again had to run the gauntlet of supporters and protesters yelling at one another with the police in between the two groups to prevent them from being at one another’s throats. It wasn’t pretty. And no prayer could make it pretty. It was petty, partisan, and petulant. I could not imagine Jesus or the apostles sullying their gospel to participate in it.
That moment was a turning point for me. I was no longer willing to see the church as a sidekick to Caesar, fully baptized (immersed, not sprinkled) into the acrimonious world
of partisan politics. It’s not that I’m afraid of controversy or persecution—I am perfectly willing to suffer persecution and ridicule for the sake of Christ (this is part of the cruciform). But I am unwilling to throw myself into the political fray for the sake of partisanship. I’m unwilling to do so because I simply no longer believe that political parties have much to do with God’s redemptive work in the world. Jesus is building his
church, not a political party. And I’m absolutely certain that political partisanship costs us our prophetic voice. We end up a tool to one side, an enemy to the other, and prophetic to neither. The bottom line is there is simply no way to make politics beautiful. But the way of the cruciform is beautiful. And I have made my choice. I choose the beautiful over the pragmatic. I realize that many people will not understand this, but I fully believe this is precisely the choice Jesus made. In choosing the cruciform over the political, Jesus was choosing the beautiful over the pragmatic.
If we are going to recover the form and beauty of Christianity, we are going to have to face squarely the issue of the politicization of the faith, because things are getting ugly. In the current climate of polarized partisanship where everything is now politicized, there is an appalling amount of anger, vitriol, and a general lack of civility. Sadly, millions of confessed followers of Jesus are being swept up in the madness as they give vent to their anger, fully convinced that God is on their side. Their justification is “we’ve got to take America back for God.” Presumably this is to be done by the dubious means of acrimonious partisan politics. But we need to think less politically and more biblically.
Does the church have a mandate to change the world through political means? We have assumed so, but it is a questionable assumption at best. Baptist theologian Russell Moore
has observed that, “Too often, and for too long, American ‘Christianity’ has been a political agenda in search of a gospel useful enough to accommodate it.”3 But is our mission a kind of political agenda or is it something else? Isn’t our first task to actually be God’s alternative society? Pause and think about that. I’m afraid we’ve made a grave mistake concerning our mission. We’re not so much tasked with running the world as with being a faithful expression of the kingdom of God through following Jesus and living the beautiful life that Jesus sets forth in the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus described his disciples as sheep among wolves. The mistake of confusing our mission of being faithful as God’s alternative society with trying to rule the world through the crude means of political power is nothing new—it’s the mistake the church has been making for seventeen centuries. Prior to the Roman emperor Constantine, the early church was content to simply be the church—to be a city set upon a hill living the alternative
lifestyle that is the Jesus way. But after the emperor Constantine and the adoption of Christianity as the imperial religion, the church embarked upon a project of running the
world in cahoots with Caesar. This project has not turned out well. And it has been particularly damaging to the church. In fact, it has led to the ugliest episodes in church history. The church’s collusion with political agendas led us into the shameful venture of the Crusades and the arrogant doctrine of Manifest Destiny. These things are truly ugly.
The problem with our “change the world” rhetoric is that it is too often a thinly veiled grasp for power and a quest for dominance—things that are antithetical to the way Jesus calls his disciples to live. A politicized faith feeds on a narrative of perceived injury and lost entitlement leading us to blame, vilify, and seek to in some way retaliate against those we imagine responsible for the loss in late modernity of a mythical past. It’s what Friedrich Nietzsche as a critic of Christianity identified as ressentiment, and it drives much of the Christian quest for political power. In the Jesus way the end—no matter how
noble—never justifies the means. It’s inevitable that a movement fueled by resentment will soon depart from the Jesus way, and it is bound to become ugly. Jesus specifically told us that we are not to emulate the ugly ways of Caesar in grasping for power and dominance. Instead we are to choose the counterintuitive way of humility, service, and sacrificial love. These things are inherently beautiful. But we have a hard time learning this lesson.
When the disciples James and John (whom for obvious reasons Jesus called “the sons of thunder”) expressed a desire to reign with Christ in their imagined version of Jesus as Caesar, Jesus made it clear that they didn’t know what they were talking about and that the way of political dominance would not be the way of his kingdom. Jesus curtly told his disciples: “It shall not be so among you.”† Jesus was doing something new and truly beautiful; he was not imitating the way and means of Caesar. The brutal Roman Empire had plenty of splendor as veneer, but it lacked any true depth of beauty. Jesus deliberately
chose the beauty of co-suffering love over the brutal pragmatism of political power. When Pilate encountered Christ, he could not understand this—but we must. We must
never forget that Jesus ushered in his kingdom by refusing to oppose Caesar on Caesar’s terms. Jesus didn’t fight political power with political power. Thus Jesus submitted to the
injustice of a state-sponsored execution by telling Pilate, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting.” Think about that. It is part of the mystery and beauty of Christianity that the kingdom of God comes, not by the sword of political power, but by the cross of self-sacrificing love. Jesus didn’t smash his foes with the sword of “righteous” political power; instead he absorbed the blow of injustice and committed his fate to the hands of God. In this we find an undeniable truth: we cannot fight for the kingdom of Christ in the same manner that
the nations of the world fight, for the moment we do, we are no longer the kingdom of Christ but the kingdom of the world! A politicized mind can only imagine power as political domination, but a Spirit-renewed mind imagines the more excellent way of love—which is the more beautiful way of the cruciform.
Admittedly we live in a world where much is wrong. But what is most wrong with the world is not our politics or Congress or who lives in the White House. This is either the
naïve gullibility or the manipulative rhetoric of partisanship. What is most wrong with the world is the ugly distortion of humanity brought about through the dehumanizing forces of lust, greed, and pride. As followers of Jesus we are not called to campaign for a political solution—for ultimately there is none—but to demonstrate an authentic Christian alternative. We are advocates of another way. Certainly we can participate in the political process, but we must do so primarily as ambassadors of another kingdom exhibiting and teaching the beautiful virtues of that kingdom. This is how we are salt and light. This is what makes us a shining city set upon a hill. We are to model what it means to be Christlike in a Caesar-like world. But to be Christlike in a Caesar-like world requires us to embrace the cruciform.
Of course the cruciform is offensive to the unimaginative mind of pragmatism. Pragmatism sees the cruciform as a passive surrender (though it is anything but that!). Pragmatism believes the only way to change the world is to beat down the bad guys—either with ballots or bullets. But without even raising the thorny issue of who are the bad guys in the ever-escalating world of revenge, the philosophy of “beat down the bad guys” displays an appalling lack of imagination. Pragmatism requires little imagination; it only needs the will to power. Or pragmatism will trot out the oft-quoted axiom from Edmund Burke: “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” That is true enough, provided we don’t misapply what it means to “do nothing.” I was once given Burke’s maxim as a counterargument after preaching on the Sermon on the Mount. As if living the Sermon on the Mount is “doing nothing.” Or worse yet, as if a Christian can call upon Edmund Burke to refute Jesus Christ!
But here is the real problem I have with the trajectory of the American evangelical church in the early twenty-first century. If, instead of imitating Christ with his cross, we want to
imitate Caesar with his sword, we inevitably choose the ugly over the beautiful. This approach always leads the church away from living as a witness to the gospel. Being a faithful witness to the gospel should be a hallmark of evangelical Christianity.
But something has gone very wrong. Think about it—that the primary public witness of the American evangelical church for the past thirty years has been political is an absolute tragedy! Evangelicals are no longer known within the wider culture for their devotion to Scripture and their belief in a personal conversion experience. Now evangelicals are known primarily for their politics. This has been anything but helpful. The amount
of hope many evangelical Christians place in politics is nothing short of astonishing! If nothing else, it is naïve—but worse, it is a betrayal. It is a betrayal of the beautiful way of Christ. For in a politicized faith we embrace the ugly pragmatism of political domination over the beauty of the cruciform.
Theologian Stanley Hauerwas has correctly observed: “The church doesn’t have a social strategy; the church is a social strategy.”4 Instead of trying to force change upon the wider society through means of legislation, we are to exemplify the beautiful alternative of the kingdom of God by actually living it! We make a terrible mistake when we tell the wider society something like this: “We have the truth, so let us run society by setting the rules.” That is a kind of tyranny, no matter how well intended. Instead we should simply be the alternative we seek to produce. We should be a righteous and just society. We should bethe beautiful expression of the kingdom of God attracting people by the unique aesthetic of our gospel. Our form is the cruciform, and our beauty is the mysterious aesthetic of the crucified Savior.
Admittedly, this is a complicated issue that doesn’t yield itself to simplistic solutions. I understand this. Christians have a complicated relationship with the state because we are
a people who carry dual citizenship. We are citizens of both the kingdom of Christ and the particular geopolitical nation we happen to live in. But this much is certain: our first allegiance must be to the kingdom of Christ. Furthermore, we must never make the mistake of thinking God has some kind of commitment to the well-being of our particular nation over the well-being of other nations. This type of ugly and arrogant nationalism is completely incompatible with the Christian faith, which confesses Jesus as Savior of the world and not merely some version of a national deity. Is it possible that American Christians actually believe that Jesus has an interest in the well-being of America over the wellbeing of, say, Mexico or China or Ethiopia? Surely not! This is “American Exceptionalism” as a ridiculous and idolatrous doctrine. Our politicians may traffic in such nonsense, but Christians must not! What Jesus is committed to is the salvation
of the world and the building up of his global church. So whereas Christians are free to participate in the civic and political process of their respective nations, Christians must
do so as those who exhibit a primary allegiance to the Jesus way—the beautiful way of the cruciform. This means treating everyone (including political enemies) with kindness, love, and respect. As followers of Christ, our mission is not to seek to rule the world through Caesar’s means of dominance—a means Jesus explicitly rejected—but to be a faithful church and thus a living example of God’s alternative society.
So, reformation is needed, and the cruciform is what can give shape to our much-needed reformation. In the cruciform we find both our proper form and, subsequently, our unique
beauty. The cruciform as a pattern gives us a means of evaluating our own form and how we present ourselves to the wider culture. With an eye on the cruciform, we can ask ourselves, “Does this attitude, this approach, this action look like Jesus on the cross?” If our attitude, approach, and action cannot be reasonably compared to the image of the cruciform, we need to abandon it. Caesar may adopt it, it may be practical, it may
even be “successful,” but if it’s not Christlike, then it’s not our pattern. Without a radical commitment to the shape of the cruciform, the process of deformation will continue year after year, and our beauty will be lost.
One of the “pliers” that distorts our Christian witness out of shape is the paradigm of protest. For far too long we have been enamored (and distorted) by protest. We love to protest. We really do. We’re good at it. We have lots of practice at it. In protest we find an outlet for our anger, we connect with like-minded people, and we at least feel like we are “making a difference” and “standing up for righteousness.” It’s exciting and cathartic. So we picket, we protest, we boycott, we form petition drives, and we write angry letters to editors and CEOs and encourage other Christians to do the same. We hold rallies where we in no uncertain terms, and with presumed divine sanction, unleash our righteous anger on a wide range of enemies. Liberals, Hollywood, gays, and Muslims are
regular targets. But does it look like the cruciform? Is it beautiful? Would a common observer look at it and say, “That’s beautiful; it reminds me of Jesus”? Do our clenched fists and furrowed brows of protest align nicely with the outstretched arms and compassionate face of Christ on the cross? If not, we have drifted from the pattern of the cruciform in our paradigm of protest, and the inevitable result will be a distortion of
Christianity. As our Christianity takes on more of a political agenda, it sloughs off resemblance to the cruciform. The result is a distinctive loss of beauty. We tend to justify our foray into the unseemly as necessary if we are to preserve morality, but I agree with Orthodox Archbishop Lazar Puhalo when he says, “True morality consists in how well we care for one another, not what sort of behaviour we wish to impose on one another.”5
Again I raise the question: Why would we do this? Why would we sacrifice the beauty of the cruciform for something everyone knows is a far cry from beautiful? Why this obsession with political power? I think the answer is that we have a carnal obsession with outcomes. It’s the ugly specter of pragmatism. We want to see a clear and obvious way that our actions are going to result in the desired outcome. We want to do good, achieve good, bring about good, vote in good, legislate good, formulate good, enforce good. So we choose the means that appear most logical in achieving this outcome. But remember, Satan never tempted Jesus with evil; Satan tempted Jesus with good. Satan enticed Jesus to go ahead and do good and to bring it about by the most direct way possible. The
temptation was to imitate the means and methods of the pharaohs and Caesars. Satan tempted Jesus to usher in a righteous world by a bloody sword. “War is impatience.”6 Obsession with outcomes and demanding to see a quick and logical way in which present action will bring about desired good are the ways of Caesar, but they are not the way of the cruciform. Obsession with outcomes is, among other things, an abandonment of faith.
Christians all believe that Jesus achieved salvation through what he did on the cross. (Though the exact way this works remains a matter of theological debate.) But on Good Friday, how could anyone have seen a “logic” in Jesus’s crucifixion? If Jesus’s intent was to save the world from the dominion of evil, how could submitting to an unjust execution at the hands of an oppressive regime accomplish anything like that? It’s absurd! Salvation is ironic because there is nothing logical or practical or obvious about the cross. Fighting is practical. Fighting is logical. Fighting has a long history of (at least temporarily) achieving desired ends. Peter was ready to fight, and presumably so were many others who followed Jesus from Galilee. But Jesus told Peter to put up his sword. There would
be no bloody revolution. No violent resistance. Not even an angry protest. Instead Jesus went to the cross, forgave his enemies, and simply died. In rejecting the way of Caesar, “Christ showed that the world was a text that could be read differently: according to the grammar not of power, but agape.”7
Did evil triumph because this good man did nothing? It certainly seemed so. But don’t forget the dying prayer of Jesus: “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” I think we can understand Jesus’s prayer as something like this: “Father, I have obeyed you, I have shown the world your ways, but the world has rejected me and your ways. I forgive them, but I am dying. So now I entrust everything to you.” This is the way of the cruciform. It is the way of faith.
In going to the cross, Jesus was not being practical; he was being faithful. Jesus didn’t take a pragmatic approach to the problem of evil; Jesus took an aesthetic approach to the problem of evil. Jesus chose to absorb the ugliness of evil and turn it into something beautiful—the beauty of forgiveness. Jesus bore the sin of the world by it being sinned into him with wounds. Jesus bore the sin of the world without a word of recrimination,
but only a prayer of forgiveness. He bore the sin of the world all the way down to death. So that the apostle Peter says, “By his wounds you have been healed.” This is the beauty of the cruciform. This is beauty being derived from pain, or as Bob Dylan says, “Behind every beautiful thing there’s been some kind of pain.”8
In order to do a beautiful thing, Jesus had to abandon outcomes. He had to entrust the outcome to his Father. On Good Friday Jesus abandoned outcomes, embraced the cross,
and died. Jesus abandoned outcomes in order to be faithful and trust his Father. As we confess in the Apostles’ Creed, “He was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended to the dead.” A lost cause. But then came Easter! The cornerstone of Christian faith is that on Easter Sunday God vindicated his Son by raising him from the dead. But until Easter Sunday no one thought of death, burial, and resurrection as a logical means of achieving good. Even today most people cannot accept the “formula” of the cruciform as a viable means of bringing about good. We want something that makes more sense. Something quicker. Something practical. And what we get are the same old ugly ways of Pharaoh and Caesar. Our embrace of the practical and ugly over the faithful and beautiful
exposes our unbelief. We are orthodox enough to confess that Jesus saves the world through his cross, but we don’t want to imitate it. So we choose the ugly forms of coercion over the beauty of the cruciform—the false morality of the Pharisee over the true morality of Christ. But our critics see this ugliness in us, even if we are unaware of it.
Part of the problem is that in the Western world we are deeply conditioned to choose the heroic over the saintly. We love our heroes best of all. Heroes are goal-oriented people of
great capabilities who know how to make things happen. We admire their ability to get things done and shape the world according to their will. Saints on the other hand—especially to the American mind—seem quaint and marginal, occupying religious spheres on the periphery of the action. We want to be heroes; we don’t really want to be saints. The difference between the heroic vision and the saintly vision is a fundamentally
different way of viewing the purpose of life.
      For the hero, the meaning of life is honor . . . for the saint,
      the meaning of life is love. . . . For the hero, the goal of
      living is self-fulfillment, the achievement of personal
      excellence, and the recognition and admiration that
      making a signal contribution to one’s society through
      one’s achievements carries with it. For the saint, life
      does not so much have a goal as a purpose for which
      each human being is responsible; and that purpose is
      love: the bonds of concern and care that responsibility
      for one’s fellow human beings carry with it. . . . These
      two paradigms—the hero and the saint—and the way
      of life that descends from each, are really two fundamentally
      distinct and genuinely different visions of
      human society as a whole, and even of what it means to
      be a human being. They are two distinct and different
      ways of asking the question of the meaning of life.9
Accepting Francis Ambrosio’s paradigms for the hero and saint, we should recognize that the way of Jesus is the way of the saint, but the way of the hero is what we tend to glorify. To speak of the goal of life in terms of self-fulfillment, achievement, and excellence is very American (originally Greek and Roman) and very popular. There are plenty of versions of American Christianity that easily accommodate this basic paradigm. Christianity understood as a program for self-improvement and success in life is how Americanized Christianity most often accommodates itself to contemporary culture. It also makes Christianity popular and “successful.” But an honest reading of the Sermon on the Mount makes it clear that Jesus is teaching something radically different. In the Gospels we see Jesus through his teaching, which sets forth the alternative paradigm of the saint where the purpose of life is love, and the expression of that love is in the form
of care and compassion for our neighbor. The life of Jesus as recorded in the Gospels begins as a life of teaching and ends in a life of suffering. But these are not to be separated. At the cross Jesus lived all that he taught. The life of love that Jesus proclaimed in his teaching he lived in his suffering. The life of co-suffering love is the paradigm of the saint, and it is how Jesus lived and died. It is the beauty of the cruciform.
Of course I can hear someone protesting, “But Jesus is my hero!” I understand what is meant by that, but if we are intent upon forcing Jesus into the archetype of typical hero, we distort him. In trying to make Jesus a hero, we miss the simple fact that Jesus did nothing that was conventionally heroic—at least not according to the Western ideal of heroism. Elijah was a conventional hero when he humiliated the prophets of Baal on
Mount Carmel and then executed them at the brook Kishon. But how did Jesus contend with his enemies at Calvary? Not in the heroic manner of Elijah on Carmel, but in a new and saintly way—the way of love and forgiveness. The Jesus of the Gospels is not a heroic general who slaughters his enemies, but a suffering saint who forgives his enemies. And even if one appeals to the Book of Revelation, it should be remembered
that the holy irony perceived in the prophetic metaphors is that the monstrous beasts are conquered by a little slaughtered lamb. It should be clear that the way of Christ is not the way of the conventional hero, because Jesus saves the world not by shedding the blood of his enemies, but by allowing his own blood to be shed in an act of redemptive love. This is the way of the saint, not the hero.
But we struggle with choosing the way of the saint over the way of the hero. Our Christian rhetoric is replete with calls to the heroic as we are urged to “be mighty men and women of God” and “fight the battles of the Lord” and “do great things for God.” We love the idea of being a hero and winning a great battle for God. There’s a lot of what we call “glory” in it. But we’re not so keen on laying down our lives in the manner of Christ at Calvary. We fail to comprehend the glory of the cross. So we struggle with which model to adopt. The hero or the saint? Achilles or Emmanuel? Caesar or Christ? Charlemagne or St. Francis? More often than not we end up choosing the hero, and this feeds one of the ugliest aspects of a misshapen Christianity—triumphalism.
Triumphalism is an ugly form of arrogance engendering a sense of group superiority. Triumphalism is a smugness and boastful pride that one’s nationality or religion is superior to all others. If Christians aren’t careful, they can be easily seduced into the ugliness of triumphalism. As Christians we believe that Jesus has triumphed over sin, Satan, death, hell, and the grave. We confess that every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord. We call Jesus King of kings and Lord of lords. But this does not entitle us to an attitude of arrogant triumphalism. Confessing the triumph of Christ
should not lead to the ugliness of triumphalism. In fact, the Christian attitude should be the very opposite.
The Christian attitude must be the deep humility exhibited by the apostle Paul when he described himself as “the foremost” of sinners. Paul was able to boldly confess the lordship of Christ while at the same time exhibiting an attitude that was completely devoid of arrogance and triumphalism. In the pluralistic cultures of the modern Western world, the ugliness of triumphalism will prevent multitudes of people from seeing the true beauty of Christianity. If we engage with people of other faiths with the attitude equivalent to “my religious founder can beat up your religious founder,” we should not be surprised if they do not see the Christian faith as inherently beautiful.
A continual turning to the cruciform leaves no room for triumphalism. Yes, Jesus triumphed over evil, but he did so by the counterintuitive way of humbling himself to the point of death, “even death on a cross.”† As we seek to assimilate the cruciform into our lives, it should always produce the beauty of a graceful humility and never the ugliness of arrogant triumphalism. If we are to show forth the beauty of Christ in our world, we must banish triumphalist attitudes from among us. It was the attitude of triumphalism in the Middle Ages that led to the ugly actions of the Crusades. Since Jesus had triumphed through the cross, it was reasoned, why not help spread his triumph through the conquest of the sword? The Crusades were the ugly offspring of a union of power-obsessed
pragmatism and arrogant religious triumphalism, and I fear that this kind of distorted thinking may have certain modern equivalents.
One more thought on heroes and saints. Heroes tend to be heroes to only one side—their side. Heroes attain their glory in an “us versus them” context. For example, the French and the Russians have decidedly different views of Napoleon, just as Americans and Mexicans will view Santa Anna differently. But saints, over time, tend to be universally recognized for their saintliness. It has to do with the universality of love. It’s why nearly everyone admires St. Francis of Assisi or Mother Teresa of Calcutta whether or not they are Christian. St. Francis and Mother Teresa are preeminent examples of lives shaped by the cruciform to a degree that their lives of co-suffering love have come to be universally recognized as lives of beauty.
So in the present situation in which the American evangelical church finds itself, there is a desperate need to recover a theology of beauty. The way out of the mess and confusion of a politicized faith is to follow the path of beauty. It is the way of beauty that will lead us home to a more authentic Christianity. A theology of beauty is the antidote to the poison of pragmatism and the toxin of triumphalism. Perhaps no other theologian has done as much to develop a theology of beauty as the great Swiss theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar. In his work on love as form and beauty he writes:
      Love alone is credible; nothing else can be believed,
      and nothing else ought to be believed. This is the
      achievement, the “work” of faith . . . to believe that
      there is such a thing as love . . . and that there is
      nothing higher or greater than it. . . . The first thing
      that must strike a non-Christian about the Christian’s
      faith is that . . . it is obviously too good to be true: the
      mystery of being, revealed as absolute love, condescending
      to wash his creatures’ feet, and even their
      souls, taking upon himself all the confusion of guilt,
      all the God-directed hatred, all the accusations showered
      upon him with cudgels . . . all the mocking hostility
      . . . in order to pardon his creature. . . . This is truly
      too much.10
Indeed, it is too much! The apostle Paul would describe this extravagance as “the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge.” The picture of God as seen in the redemptive co-suffering love of Christ is too much in the sense that it overwhelms us in much the same way that we find a stunning sculpture, a masterpiece painting, or a majestic sunset overwhelming—it is the experience of being overawed by a transcendent beauty. This is
how the gospel is made most compelling—by making it beautiful. Instead of trying to overwhelm a cynical world weary of argument and suspicious of truth claims with the force of logic and debate, what if they were overwhelmed with the perception and persuasion of beauty?
Beauty is graceful and has a way of sneaking past our defenses. It’s hard to argue with beauty. Beauty is compelling in its own way. What I am suggesting is that we look to
beauty as a primary standard for our theology, witness, and action. As radical as it may sound to those who have grown up in the sterile world of late modernity, asking the question Is it beautiful? is a valid and viable way to evaluate what we believe and do. We should ask ourselves: “Is this a beautiful doctrine?” “Is this a beautiful witness?” “Is this a beautiful practice?” Along with asking if it is true and if it is good, we should also ask if is it beautiful. Truth and goodness need beauty. Truth claims divorced from beauty can become condescending. Goodness minus beauty can become moralistic. To embrace truth and goodness in the Christian sense, we must also embrace beauty.
At least as far back as the Greek philosopher Plato, beauty was understood not merely as an adornment, but as a value as important as truth and goodness. It was only in the twentieth century that beauty began to be diminished as a value. Now we live in a day when pragmatism and utilitarian “values” have largely displaced beauty as a value. But the loss of beauty as a principal value has been disastrous for Western culture. One obvious example of what has befallen us is the loss of aesthetic sensibilities in architecture. Where once the role of architecture was to help beautify the shared space of our cities and neighborhoods, now the role of architecture is to build utilitarian structures as cheaply as possible. The result has been a profound loss of beauty. It’s a kind of vandalism. What modern building would people a thousand years from now flock to visit as we do the Notre Dame Cathedral today? If the Gothic cathedral was the architectural statement of the Middle Ages, the “big box” store may well be the architectural statement of our age. This is tragic. But what if what has happened to architecture is also happening to Christianity? What if modern architecture mirrors what is happening in modern
Christianity? What if utility is triumphing over beauty in the way we think about the church? This is alarming.
As our world turns its back on beauty, the result is that we are increasingly surrounded by ugliness and images of alienation. Think of government housing projects and the soulless
strip malls of suburbia. Art itself is under assault. Art is now largely driven, not by time-tested standards of beauty, but by the marketplace. So the question is no longer, “Is it beautiful?,” but “Will it sell?” (Is this too reflected in the church?) In a world where kitsch, profit, and vulgarity are vandalizing art, philosopher Roger Scruton worries that we are in danger of losing beauty, and with it the meaning of life.11 Yes, the loss of beauty is related to the loss of meaning. Attaining to the beautiful is a valid way of understanding the meaning of life—especially when we recognize a link between the sacred and the beautiful. For thousands of years, artists, sages, philosophers, and theologians have connected the beautiful and the sacred and identified art with our longing for God. It has only been during the modern phenomenon of secularism—what
Nietzsche described as the “death of God”—that we have severed the beautiful from the divine. But when the beautiful is severed from the absolute (God), what passes for beautiful can be anything and everything—which is to say nothing. There really is a profound connection between the loss of beauty and the loss of meaning.
Yet despite the modern assault upon art and beauty, the hunger for beauty abides deep in the human heart. That the allure of beauty is part of the human makeup is clearly seen
every time a child picks up crayons and tries to capture the beauty of the world around him. And it is to this firmly entrenched desire for beauty that we should appeal in our
efforts to communicate the gospel. If we can show a world lost in the ugliness of consumer-driven pragmatism and power-hungry politics the true beauty of Christ, it will be irresistibly appealing. For too long we have relied upon the cold logic of apologetics to persuade or the crass techniques of the marketplace to entice, when what we should do is creatively hold forth the transcendent beauty of Jesus Christ. But to do this, we must examine what we preach and what we practice in the light of the beauty of the cruciform.
We need to constantly ask ourselves, “Is this beautiful? Is this thought beautiful? Is the attitude beautiful? Is this action beautiful? Does it reflect the beauty of Christ and the cruciform?” If finger-pointing isn’t beautiful, then we should abandon it. If politically based protest isn’t beautiful, then maybe we can do without it. If the common man doesn’t recognize what we do in the name of Christ as beautiful, we should at least reexamine it. If a particular doctrine doesn’t come across as truly beautiful, then we should hold it suspect. Someone may raise the question, “Can beauty be trusted?” I believe it can, as long as we make the critical distinction between the shallow and
faddish thing that our modern culture calls “image” and the absolute value that our ancestors have always understood as beauty. We can rightly evaluate our faith and practice in terms of beauty for this very reason: The Lord and his ways are beautiful.
“He has made everything beautiful in its time.”
It’s time to recover the form and beauty of Christianity. Our enduring icon of beauty and the standard by which we gauge the beauty of our actions is the cruciform. The cross is a beautiful mystery—a mystery where an unexpected beauty is in the process of rescuing the world from its ugliness. Beauty will save the world. This is the surprising beauty of the cross when seen through the prism of the resurrection. The cross made beautiful is the ultimate triumph of God and his grace. If the crucifixion of Christ can be made beautiful, then there is hope that all the ugliness of the human condition can be redeemed by its beauty.

My review of Beauty Will Save the World:

I have cut back on reading books like this because they all seem the same and they are not terribly interesting, for the most part. I felt led to give this book a read though. I have to say that this book was different from so many that I have read on this subject. I am not familiar with Brian Zahnd’s writing, but I really liked his style. His writing is very practical, very biblical and very relate-able. There is so much beauty in the world and in Christianity and Brian Zahnd brings that to light in this book.

If you are bored with Christianity and wondering what is truly important and truly beautiful, I highly recommend Beauty Will Save the World. This book has the ability to change the hearts and minds of Christians to truly understand the miracle of our Savior and His gift of salvation to those who trust in him. I really liked this book and it is definitely one for the keeper shelf.

One Perfect Word by Debbie Macomber

2012-01-29T18:16:00.001-05:00

About the book:

In the tradition of One Simple Act and God’s Guest List, perennial bestselling novelist Debbie Macomber reveals in inspiring, moving stories that the simplicity of one perfect word can become profound. When Debbie took the time to intentionally focus on a single word—such as prayer, trust, or surrender—for a whole year, this act changed not only herself, but those around her.

“The surprising thing is that when we decide to focus on one word for the year,” Debbie writes, “God takes part in the choosing. That’s why the word is perfect for us. We may not see it at the time, but as we look back we see that it all worked together—our word, our life, our journey.” For example, the year she chose the word balance, her career moved to a whole new level. The pressures on Debbie to speak, promote, and practically live on the road were overwhelming. It was her yearlong focus on that all-too-difficult word balance that helped her refine her schedule. As you read Debbie’s and others’ stories, you will be inspired to find your own word and will see how one perfect word can make all the difference.

One Word Can Make All the Difference

For almost twenty years I’ve been meeting with a group of women entrepreneurs for breakfast once a week. Many years back, my breakfast club ladies and I decided to select a word to serve as a personal focus for the year. Over time the words I’ve chosen have had a powerful impact on my life. In John 15:7 the Lord says, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” That could be the story of my life. As I’ve tried to remain in Him and tuck His words deep in my soul, I’ve asked, I’ve imagined, and I’ve dreamed. I have to confess, God’s blessed me far beyond that for which I asked. Why should that be such a big surprise? That verse carries a promise. And God always keeps His promises.

When we choose one single word from His Word and spend a year with it, I’ve found that the Lord takes us by the hand and walks us through the year, teaching us about that word, about ourselves, and even more, about God Himself.

—from One Perfect Word

My review of One Perfect Word:

I have actually never read a Debbie Macomber novel, but I have read a few of her non-fiction titles and I have really enjoyed them. She has a friendly and warm writing style always relaxes me. Debbie’s concept of focusing on one word from the Bible and meditating on it for one year is an interesting one. She uses inspiring stories throughout this book to show the power of focusing on that one word and how it can transform your life.

One Perfect Word was an enjoyable read and I liked Debbie’s suggestions and stories. It sounds like a difficult task to focus on just one word for an entire year, but through Debbie’s journal writings and personal stories, the reader can see the importance of it and understand that it is not really too difficult. I really enjoyed reading this book as I have enjoyed reading Debbie’s other non-fiction books. She is very inspiring and a very positive influence on her readers. I highly recommend picking up One Perfect Word, reading it and giving it some serious thought.

This book was provided for review by Howard Books.

Where Wildflowers Boom by Ann Shorey and Giveaway!

2012-01-28T21:36:00.005-05:00

About the book:

How far will she go to follow her dreams?

The Civil War stole a father and brother from Faith Lindberg--as well as Royal Baxter, the man she wanted to marry. With only her grandfather left, she dreams of leaving Noble Springs, Missouri, and traveling west to Oregon to start a new life, away from the memories that haunt her. But first she must convince her grandfather to sell the family's mercantile and leave a town their family has called home for generations.

When Royal Baxter suddenly returns, Faith allows herself to hope that she and Royal will finally wed. But does he truly love her? Or will another man claim her heart?

My review of Where Wildflowers Bloom:

I was eagerly anticipating Where Wildflowers Bloom. I have really enjoyed Ann Shorey’s books in the past, so I knew I was going to like this one, and I did. Ann is one of those historical fiction authors who writes the genre so well. This story was interesting and the historical details made it really come alive. The characters had a lot of pain in their pasts and this book and I found myself really caring about them and really liking them.

This was a truly enjoyable book from beginning to end. I have always liked Ann Shorey’s books, but she seems to really be developing a style that is her own and I like it very much. This first book in the Sisters at Heart series is an excellent book and I am so excited to read the rest of the series. Ann is on her way to becoming one of my favorite authors. I enjoy her relaxed and interesting writing style. I highly recommend Where Wildflowers Bloom.

This book was provided for review by Revell.

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

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The Juice Lady's Weekend Weight-Loss Diet by Cherie Calbom

2012-01-26T00:00:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Cherie Calbom, MS

and the book:

The Juice Lady's Weekend Weight-Loss Diet: Two days to a new dress size

Siloam (December 13, 2011)

***Special thanks to PUBLICIST'S NAME of PUBLICIST'S COMPANY for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Cherie Calbom, MS, is the author of The Juice Lady’s Turbo Diet, The Juice Lady’s Living Foods Revolution, and Juicing for Life, which has nearly two million books in print in the United States. Known as “The Juice Lady” for her work with juicing and health, Cherie has worked as a clinical nutritionist and has a master’s degree in nutrition.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Jump-Start Your Diet…
Detox Your System…
Lose a Dress Size…
Shrink Your Love Handles . . .

…with this two-day diet program that helps you get healthy for life.

Start Friday night with a juice or green smoothie dinner. Then have an all-liquid Saturday and Sunday breakfast and lunch, followed by a raw food dinner Sunday night. It’s easy, delicious, and requires only a weekend commitment!

Look and feel great for a special event
Motivate yourself for continued weight loss
Cleanse your system after a stressful week
Jump-start your living foods lifestyle!

Product Details:

List Price: $12.99

Paperback: 224 pages
Publisher: Siloam (December 13, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1616386568
ISBN-13: 978-1616386566

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Weight Loss on a Mission
The World Health Organization estimates that by 2015, there will be more than 1.5 billion overweight consumers, incurring health costs beyond $117 billion per year in the US alone.1 It’s obvious that we need to do something differently. We need a new way of life—a revolution in how we eat, one that we adopt for the rest of our lives.
What if you found a weight-loss program that could help you lose weight more effectively than anything you’ve ever tried? And what if that program didn’t involve expensive meals you had to order, pills you had to buy, or anything other than great whole foods you prepare in your kitchen? What if that program helped
you look and feel better than ever? And what if it was such an energizing way of life that you wanted to follow it for the rest of your life? Are you interested?
The Juice Lady’s Weekend Weight-Loss Diet is a fast track to just such a program. This two-day jump start can lead you into a transformative lifestyle that is helping thousands of people lose weight, keep it off for good, and completely revolutionize their health. This is what I call weight loss on a mission—the mission is
to help you become healthy, happy, and filled with life, as well as slim and fit. (You’ll find a complete weight-loss juicing program in my book The Juice Lady’s Turbo Diet.)
Freshly made vegetable juices are at the center of the weekend weight-loss diet. They provide concentrated sources of very absorbable nutrients. They are low in fat and calories, so replacing higher-calorie foods with fresh juice is a shoo-in for weight-loss success.
But the benefits of juicing don’t stop there. Vegetable juices help curb cravings because they satisfy your body’s nutrient needs. They’re alkaline, which is very helpful to balance out a system that’s most probably too acidic. They’re also high in antioxidants that are antiaging and immune enhancing—that means you’re giving your body the things it needs to start looking and feeling younger.
Fresh Juice—a Cornucopia of Nutrients
Every time you pour a glass of juice, picture a cornucopia of nutrients cascading into your body, promoting health, revving up your metabolism, balancing weight, and increasing vitality. This melange of nutrients can change your life—completely change your life—as it completely changed mine! Here’s what every glass of juice provides.
Amino acids
Did you ever consider juice to be a source of protein? Most people would say no. Surprisingly, it does offer more amino acids than you might think. We use amino acids to form muscles, ligaments, tendons, hair, nails, and skin. Protein is needed to create enzymes, which direct chemical reactions, and hormones, which
guide bodily functions. Fruits and vegetables contain lower quantities of protein than animal foods such as muscle meats and dairy products. Therefore they are thought of as poor protein sources. But juices are concentrated forms of vegetables and so provide easily absorbed amino acids, the building blocks that make up protein. For example, 16 ounces of carrot juice (2–3 pounds of carrots) provides about 5 grams of protein (the equivalent of about a chicken wing or 2 ounces of tofu). I don’t recommend drinking that much carrot juice because of the sugar content, but that’s an example.
Vegetable protein is not complete protein, so it does not provide all the amino acids your body needs. In addition to lots of dark leafy greens, when you finish your weekend weight-loss kick start, you’ll want to eat other protein sources, such as sprouts, legumes (beans, lentils, and split peas), nuts, seeds, and whole grains. If you’re not vegan, you can add eggs and free-range, grass-fed muscle meats such as chicken, turkey, lamb, and beef along with wild-caught fish.
Carbohydrates
Most vegetable juice contains good carbohydrates. The exceptions would be carrots and beets, which have higher sugar content. They should be used in small quantities and diluted with low-sugar vegetable juices such as cucumber and dark leafy greens. Carbs provide fuel for the body, which it uses for energy, heat production, and chemical reactions. The chemical bonds of carbohydrates lock in the energy a plant takes up from the sun and soil, and this energy is released when the body burns plant food as fuel.
There are three categories of carbs: simple (sugars), complex (starches and fiber), and fiber. Choose more complex carbohydrates in your diet than simple carbs. There are more simple sugars in fruit juice than vegetable juice, which is why I recommend you juice primarily vegetables, use low-sugar fruit for flavor and a little sweetness, and in most cases drink no more than 4 ounces of fruit juice a day.
Both insoluble fiber and soluble fiber are found in whole fruits and vegetables—both types are needed for good health. It’s amazing how many people still say juice doesn’t have any fiber. It contains the soluble form—pectin and gums, which are excellent for the digestive tract. Soluble fiber also helps to lower cholesterol, stabilize blood sugar, and improve good bowel bacteria and elimination.
Essential fatty acids
There is very little fat in fruit and vegetable juices, but the fats juice does contain are essential to your health. The essential fatty acids (EFAs)—linoleic and alpha-linolenic acids in particular—found in fresh juice function as components of nerve cells, cellular membranes, and hormonelike substances called prostaglandins. They are also required for energy production.
Vitamins
Fresh juice is replete with vitamins, but heat and processing destroy vitamins. We need these organic substances because they take part, along with minerals and enzymes, in chemical reactions throughout the body. For example, vitamin C participates in the production of collagen, one of the main types of protein found in the body that keeps your skin looking fresh and youthful rather than sagging and aging. Fresh juices are excellent sources of water-soluble vitamins such as C, many of the B vitamins, and some fat-soluble vitamins such as E and K, along with key phytonutrients like beta-carotene (known as pro-vitamin A), lutein, lycopene, and zeaxanthin. They also are coupled with cofactors that increase the effectiveness of each nutrient; for example, vitamin C and bioflavonoids work together synergistically to make each more effective.
Minerals
There are about two dozen minerals that your body needs to function well, and they’re abundant in fresh juice. They make up part of bones, teeth, and blood, and they help maintain normal cellular function. The major minerals include calcium, chloride, magnesium, phosphorus, potassium, sodium, and sulfur. Trace
minerals, which include boron, chromium, cobalt, copper, manganese, nickel, selenium, vanadium, and zinc, are those needed in very small amounts.
Minerals occur in inorganic forms in the soil, and plants incorporate them into their tissues. As a part of this process, the minerals are combined with organic molecules into easily absorbable forms, which makes plants an excellent dietary source of minerals. Juicing is believed to provide even better mineral absorption than whole vegetables because the process of juicing releases minerals into a highly absorbable, easily digestible form.
Enzymes
These living molecules are prevalent in raw foods, but heat, such as cooking and pasteurization, destroys them. Enzymes facilitate the biochemical reactions necessary for life. They are complex structures composed predominantly of protein and usually require additional cofactors to function, including vitamins; minerals such as calcium, magnesium, and iron; and other elements. Fresh juice is chock-full of enzymes. Without them we would not have life.
When you eat and drink enzyme-rich foods, these little molecules help break down food in the digestive tract, thereby sparing the pancreas, liver, and stomach—the body’s enzyme producers—from overwork. This sparing action is known as the “law of adaptive secretion of digestive enzymes,” which asserts that the body will adapt or change the amount of digestive enzymes it produces according to what is needed. According to this law, when a portion of the food you eat is digested by enzymes present in the food, the
body won’t need to secrete as much of its own enzymes. This allows the body’s energy to be shifted from digestion to other functions such as repair and rejuvenation.
Fresh juices require very little energy expenditure to digest. That is one reason why people who start consistently drinking fresh veggie juice often report that their digestion and elimination improve and that they feel better and more energized right away.
Phytochemicals
Plants contain substances know as phytochemicals that protect them from disease, injury, and pollution. Phyto means plant, and chemical in this context means nutrient. There are tens of thousands of phytochemicals in the foods we eat. For example, the average tomato may contain up to ten thousand different types of these nutrients, with one of the most famous being lycopene. Phytochemicals give plants their color, odor, and flavor. Unlike vitamins and enzymes, they are heat stable and can withstand cooking. Some of them, such as lycopene, appear to be more effective when cooked.
Biophotons
There’s one more substance abundant in raw foods that is more difficult to measure than the others. It’s known as biophotons, which is light energy that is found in the living cells of raw plant foods. These photons have been shown to emit coherent light energy when uniquely photographed (Kirlian photography). This light energy is believed to have many benefits when consumed, such as aiding cellular communication and feeding the mitochondria and the DNA. They are believed to contribute to our energy, vitality, and a feeling of vibrancy and well-being.
Now that you’ve learned about the powerful nutritional punch packed inside each glass of juice you drink, let’s consider how this applies to weight loss.
Power Foods That Give Your Weight Loss a Big Boost
In addition to some of the basic steps you can take to achieve weight loss success, there are specific foods you can add to your weight-loss program that will make a huge difference in assisting your body in burning fat. These super foods can help you succeed and give you super-size health dividends at the same time. Be sure to add them to your weight-loss program.
Green juice: the number one fat cure. In honor of his hundredth show, Dr. Oz served on the set his favorite green juice drink to one hundred people who had lost thirteen thousand pounds combined. This blend of cucumbers, apple, and leafy greens started a new wave of interest in green juices for weight loss. So why do green juices work so well? Dr. Oz cites the fact that they compensate for the fact that most of us are simply not getting sufficient nourishment from standard diets. He says, “We know we have to have at least five fistfuls of leafy green vegetables and fruit every day, so we make a morning green drink.”2
There’s evidence to suggest that even if we took the time to chew up five cups of green veggies each day, we wouldn’t get as much benefit from them as we would from juicing them. The mechanical process of juicing the vegetables breaks apart plant cell walls and makes absorption better than even when the best “chewers” chew their food at least thirty times before swallowing. It has an effect like throwing marbles at a chain-link fence rather than tennis balls; their contents are going to go through in a way that tennis balls can’t.
The juices contain easily absorbed micronutrients that will do more than slim you down—they’ll optimize your overall health and wellness. There’s science behind the green juices transformative powers and a number of reasons why the juices, along with a high intake of living foods, energize your body, fire up your metabolism, speed slimming, and overhaul your health. Here’s the evidence as to why it works.
Green Veggies Help Lower the Risk of Type 2 Diabetes
Because of their high magnesium content and low glycemic index, green leafy vegetables are also valuable for persons with type 2 diabetes. One study revealed that an increase of just one and onehalf servings a day of green leafy vegetables was associated with a 14 percent lower risk of diabetes.3
Magnesium-rich greens ramp up your energy. A British study comparing the metabolism of female twins found that magnesium intake was the most important dietary variable that determined adiponectin levels.4 Adiponectin is a fat cell hormone that promotes insulin sensitivity. This hormone has recently gained attention from researchers because of its regulation of glucose and fat metabolism. Elevated levels of adiponectin are associated with increased insulin sensitivity and fat burning. Adiponectin also seems to work closely with leptin—a hormone that helps control the appetite. As you lose weight, this hormone gets a boost. Fresh fruit and vegetables have a positive influence on this hormone, which is made in fat cells. It boosts metabolism and helps regulate inflammation, which, consequently, helps to prevent weight gain, becoming a type 2 diabetic, or developing heart disease.
This new study shows very clearly that adequate magnesium is imperative to maintaining adiponectin levels. This means that a deficiency of magnesium, which is common in America, is a clear contributor to the problems people have with weight management. Magnesium also plays a key role in fighting off stress and anxiety, supporting restful sleep, preventing restless leg syndrome, and boosting energy.
Further, magnesium helps prevent fat storage. When magnesium is low, cells fail to recognize insulin. As a result, glucose accumulates in the blood—and then it gets stored as fat instead of being burned for fuel. Green plants, which are rich in magnesium, are far superior to magnesium supplements because the supplements’ particles are a bit large for the body to entirely absorb. (I’m in favor of taking magnesium supplements, if they are needed, but as an adjunct to a magnesium-rich diet.) Green plants take inorganic minerals from the soil through their tiny roots and incorporate them into their cells. They become organic particles that are much smaller and easier for the body to absorb. It is estimated that more than 90 percent of a plant’s minerals is delivered to the cells when you juice the greens. So juice up those leaves—chard, collards, beet tops, parsley, spinach—the five highest in magnesium, plus kohlrabi leaves, kale, dandelion greens, lettuce, and mustard greens.
Here’s the good news—you’ll increase your energy with this highoctane fuel! That means you’ll get more done and feel more like working out, so you’ll burn more calories and build more muscle.
Enzymes Speed Fat Burning
Our bodies produce enzymes that are used in digesting the food we eat. They can be found in the saliva, small intestine, stomach, liver, and pancreas. These hardworking little catalysts break down proteins, fats, and carbohydrates into fatty acids, amino acids, and forms of glucose that feed your cells.
Enzymes are responsible for a host of reactions in the body. All the minerals, herbs, vitamins, and hormones we take can’t do their jobs without enzymes. When your diet is deficient in enzymes from live foods (uncooked, not processed), your body has to work harder to produce the enzymes it needs. If you’re deficient, you may experience weight gain, depression, and many other maladies that plague modern society.
Enzymes are truly weight-loss supermen. But these magic bullets start decreasing as we age—by age thirty-five most people see a decline in their enzyme production. Still, we need them for weight loss and good digestion. It’s enzymes that assist in the breakdown and burning of fat.
This is where juices come to the rescue—as I mentioned earlier, they’re packed with enzymes. Eating a high percentage of raw food is important because cooking and processing our food destroys enzymes. When you drink fresh, live juices and eat plenty of living foods, the enzymes they contain kick your metabolism into gear by helping to spare your liver and pancreas from working so hard. Then these organs can focus on their metabolic tasks of burning fat and producing energy. And your digestion will improve. This affects your whole life, your whole being.
Three Super-Hero Enzymes
• Lipase. Lipase is a fat-splitting enzyme that is abundant in raw foods. It assists your body in digestion,
fat distribution, and fat burning. However, few of us eat enough raw foods to get sufficient lipase
to burn even a normal amount of fat, not to mention any excess fat. Without lipase, fat accumulates.
You can see it on your hips, thighs, buttocks, and stomach. Lipase is richest in raw foods that contain
some fat, such as sprouted seeds and nuts, avocado, and fresh coconut meat.
• Protease. As your body burns flab, toxins are released into your system. This can cause water retention and bloating. Protease is a digestive enzyme that helps to break down proteins and eliminate toxins. Eliminating toxins is essential when you’re burning fat. If your body is storing toxins, it’s very difficult to burn fat. But protease comes to the rescue and attacks and eliminates toxins. So, as you can see, it’s crucial to have plenty of protease during weight loss. Protease is richest in the leaves of plants. So juice up those
green leaves and burn fat. Plus, the greens are also rich in antioxidants that bind up toxins and carry them out of your system so they won’t hurt your cells. That means you’ll get double action with green juices.
• Amylase. Amylase is a digestive enzyme that breaks down complex carbohydrates into simple sugars. It’s also present in saliva. So while we chew our food, it goes to work on carbs. That’s why it’s recommended that you chew each mouthful of food about thirty times. The pancreas also makes amylase. And amylase is plentiful in seeds that contain starch. (You can juice most seeds of fruits and vegetables.) Its therapeutic use is in regulation of histamine, which is produced in response to recognized invaders to the body. Histamine is a responder in allergic reactions such as hay fever and is what causes hives, itchy watery eyes, sneezing,
and runny noses. Amylase breaks down the histamine produced by the body in response to allergens like pollen or dust mites. Some health professionals believe it may help the body identity the allergen as not being harmful so it doesn’t produce the histamine in the first place. This is one reason that people on a high raw plant diet often experience improvement in their allergies. For the most effective approach to increasing
enzymes, you may also want to take an enzyme supplement. I especially like an enzyme formula that
is taken between meals—it cleans up any undigested particles of food floating around the system and
greatly improves digestion. A popular side benefit is that your hair gets thicker and your nails grow
stronger. (For more information on these enzymes, see Appendix A.)
Greens Alkalize Your Body and Promote Weight Loss
Many people eat a high-sugar breakfast consisting of foods and drinks such as orange juice, toast, jam, honey, sweetened cereal, sweet rolls, doughnuts, muffins, waffles, or pancakes. All this sugar and simple carbohydrates (which turn to sugar easily) promote acidity and cause yeast and fungus to grow. They also produce a lot of acid. Traditional high-protein breakfast foods such as omelets, cheese, bacon, sausage, and meat promote elevated acid levels in the body as well. Add to that highly acidic drinks such as coffee, black
tea, sodas, alcohol, and sports drinks, and acidic foods for lunch and dinner, and you’re consuming loads of acid-forming foods throughout the day. Keep in mind that acid-forming food does not mean the state of the food when you eat or drink it but the final ash residue after it is metabolized. As a result of this style of eating, along with not eating enough green veggies and other living foods, many people suffer from a condition known as mild acidosis, which is an out-of-balance pH leaning toward acidity. This means that the body is continually fighting to maintain pH balance.
One of the symptoms of acidosis is weight gain and an inability to lose weight. That’s because the body tends to store acid in fat cells and to hang on to those cells to protect your delicate tissues and organs. It will even make more fat cells in which to store acid, if they’re needed. To turn this scenario around, it’s important to alkalize your body. Greens are one of the best choices you could make because they’re very alkaline. And juicing them gives you an easy way to consume a lot more than you could chew up in a day.
To give your body a great start in rebalancing your pH, make 60 percent to 80 percent of your diet alkalizing foods such as green vegetables, raw juices, grasses such as wheatgrass juice, fresh vegetables and fruit, raw seeds, nuts, and sprouts. Greatly limit or avoid your consumption of acid-forming foods such as meat, dairy products, chocolate, sweets, bread and all other yeast products, alcohol, carbonated drinks, sports drinks, coffee, and black tea. When pH balance is achieved, the body should automatically drop to its ideal, healthy weight unless you have other health challenges. (But those should heal too over time.) As the acidic environment is neutralized with mineral-rich alkaline foods, there will be no need for your body to create new fat cells for storage of acid. And since the remaining fat is no longer needed to store acid wastes, it simply melts away.
This is also a great way to restore your health. Many diseases such as cancer thrive in an acidic state. Take away the acid, and they don’t do as well. An alkaline diet also boosts your energy level, improves skin, reduces allergies, sustains the immune system, and enhances mental clarity.
Thermogenic Foods Rev Up Your Metabolism
Thermogenesis means the production of heat, which raises metabolism and burns calories. Thermogenic foods are essentially fat-burning foods and spices that help increase your metabolism. This means that with some of your kitchen staples, you can burn off fat during or right after you eat and increase your fat-burning potential just by eating them. So include these super foods often in your juices and recipes.
Hot peppers. Imagine eating hot peppers and revving up your metabolism enough to lose weight. A study in 2010 found that obesity was caused by a lack of thermogenic response in the body rather than by overeating or lack of exercise. “The animals developed obesity mainly because they didn’t produce enough heat after eating, not because the animals ate more or were less active,” said Dr. Yong Xu, instructor of internal medicine at UT Southwestern and co-lead author of the study.5 Another study found that hot peppers turn up the internal heat, which helps in burning calories.6 You can add hot peppers or a dash of hot sauce to many juice recipes or almost any dish and make it taste delicious.
Garlic. When it comes to weight loss, garlic appears to be a miracle food. A team of doctors at Israel’s Tel Hashomer Hospital conducted a test on rats to find out how garlic can prevent diabetes and heart attacks, and they found an interesting side effect—none of the rats given allicin (a compound in garlic) gained weight.7
Garlic is a known appetite suppressant. The strong odor of garlic stimulates the satiety center in the brain, thereby reducing feelings of hunger. It also increases the brain’s sensitivity to leptin, a hormone produced by fat cells that controls appetite. Further, garlic stimulates the nervous system to release hormones such as adrenalin, which speed up metabolic rate. This means a greater ability to burn calories. More calories burned means less weight gained—a terrific correlation.
Ginger. Ginger contains a substance that stimulates gastric enzymes, which can boost metabolism. The better your metabolism, the more calories you’ll burn. It has been shown to be an anti-inflammatory—
inflammation is implicated in obesity. Ginger helps improve gastric motility—the spontaneous peristaltic movements of the stomach that aid in moving food through the digestive system. When the digestive system is functioning at its best, you’ll experience less bloating and constipation. It has also been found to
lower cholesterol. And ginger is the top vegan source of zinc, which gives a big boost to your immune system. Top that off with the fact that it tastes delicious in juice recipes, and you have a super spice. I add it to almost every juice recipe I make.
Parsley. This dark green herb offers a great way to make your dishes and juices super healthy. Parsley helps you detox because it’s chock-full of antioxidants, like vitamin C and flavonoids, and it’s loaded with minerals and chlorophyll. It’s also a natural diuretic, which helps you get rid of stored water. That means thinner ankles, feet, and fingers. And it improves digestion and strengthens the spleen as well. You can add a handful of parsley to almost any juice recipe and you won’t even know it’s there.
Cranberries. Studies show that cranberries are loaded with acids that researchers believe are useful in dissolving fat deposits. When fat deposits settle in the body, they are hard to get rid of, so it’s best to get them before they get “hooked on” you. Some studies point out that the enzymes in cranberries can aid metabolism, which gives a boost to weight loss.8This tart little fruit is a natural diuretic, helping you get rid of excess water and bloating. Of all the fruits, cranberries rank number two for antioxidant content, which helps detoxify the body. And they promote healthy teeth and gums, fight urinary track infections, improve heart health, and keep cancer at bay.
Kathy, who was featured in my “Holiday Fat Buster” article in the December 27, 2010, issue of Woman’s World, issue, lost 5 pounds in seventy-two hours drinking a cranberry, pear, cucumber, and ginger
cocktail along with the rest of the Turbo Juice Diet Program. Within a week Kathy’s tummy was down 5.5 inches—she said she had to keep measuring to make sure it was right. Regarding the juice diet program, she said, “Overall, I had a lot of energy and no hunger.”9 You can add cranberries to many recipes for a delicious enhancer to your juice drinks and a boost to your weight loss at the same time. If you buy these berries when they’re in season, you can freeze a few packages to have on hand for seasons when they aren’t available.
Blueberries. A 2010 study found that blueberries can help you get rid of belly fat, thanks to the high level of phytochemicals (antioxidants) they contain. The study also showed that blueberries are helpful in preventing type 2 diabetes, and the benefits were even greater when the blueberries were combined with a low-fat diet.10 Moreover, blueberries can also help fight hardening of the arteries and improve the memory.
Lemons. Adding just a tablespoon of fresh lemon juice to your water, salad, or soup will help ward off cravings, alkalize your body, and keep your insulin levels in check. Hot lemon water with a dash of cayenne pepper is a great way to start your day—it gets the liver, your fat-burning organ, moving in the morning. It’s also a natural diuretic and helps clear out toxins from your system. Further, it aids the digestive process and prevents constipation. It can also help alleviate heartburn—just add a tablespoon of fresh lemon juice to water and drink with your meal. Limonene, a compound in lemons, helps short-circuit the production of acid in the stomach—lemons are very alkalizing. Meyer lemons, my favorite, are sweeter and are available in the winter.
The Low-Glycemic Benefits of Juicing
The glycemic index has become a popular weight-loss tool based in part on the fact that high-glycemic foods raise blood sugar levels, cause the body to secrete excess insulin, and lead to the storage of fat. Originally developed to help diabetics manage blood sugar control, the glycemic index has become popular in the weight-loss market largely because it works so well. Researchers reported in the Journal of the American Medical Association that patients who lost weight with a low-glycemic diet kept the weight off longer than patients who lost the same amount of weight with a low-fat diet.11
The glycemic index (GI) diet refers to a system of ranking carbohydrates according to how much a certain amount of each food raises a person’s blood sugar level. It’s determined by measuring how much a 50-gram serving of carbohydrate raises a person’s blood sugar level compared with a control.
Virtually all carbohydrates are digested into glucose and cause a temporary rise in blood glucose levels, called the glycemic response. But some foods raise it more than others. This response is affected by many factors, including the quantity of food, the amount and type of carbohydrate, how it’s cooked or eaten raw, and the degree of processing. Each food is assigned an index number from 1 to 100, with 100 as the reference score for pure glucose. Typically, foods are rated high (greater than 70), moderate (56–69), and low (less than 55). Low-glycemic foods, especially raw carbohydrates, can help control blood sugar, appetite, and weight. Though helpful for everyone, they are especially helpful for people with type 2 diabetes, prediabetes, hypoglycemia, insulin resistance, and metabolic syndrome.
Low-glycemic foods are absorbed more slowly, allowing a person to feel full longer and therefore be less likely to overeat. Raw food experts such as Dr. John Douglass have found that raw carbohydrates such as the raw juices are better tolerated than cooked carbs. They don’t elicit the addictive cravings that cooked foods cause. Douglass believes, as does the Finish expert A. I. Virtanen, that the enzymes in raw food play an important role in the way they stimulate weight loss as they do in the treatment of obesity.12
When you get to chapter 6, “Beyond the Weekend,” you will be encouraged to choose most of your carbohydrate foods from the low-glycemic index and a large percentage of those foods as raw. The foods I recommend eating after you’ve completed your weekend weight-loss diet (see Appendix B) are for the most part low glycemic and are nutrient-rich, not refined, and higher in fiber—like whole vegetables, fruit, and legumes (beans, lentils, split peas).
Not All Carbs Are Created Equal
Different carbohydrates take different pathways in the body after digestion. For example, some starchy foods are bound by an outer layer of very complex starches (fiber) like the legumes (beans, lentils, split peas), which increases the time it takes for them to be digested. So even though legumes are relatively high in carbohydrates, they have a lower glycemic response because of their complex encasing.
There is also the antioxidant potential of foods to consider, meaning the amount of antioxidant nutrients a food contains, such as beta-carotene and vitamin C that are abundant in many fruits and vegetables. In Chinese culture, carrots are often used as cooling medicine. Carrots, beets (both very rich in beta-carotene),
and other brightly colored vegetables are especially important to include in our diet to prevent disease. These days many health professionals suggest we eliminate carrots and beets because of their glycemic rating, but the weekend weight-loss diet does not exclude them because of their high nutrient and fiber content. But I do recommend that you use them in small amounts because they are higher in sugar.
Also, please keep in mind that not all low-glycemic foods are healthy fare. Low-glycemic foods include candy bars and potato chips. These foods are very nutrient depleted, contain sugar or turn to sugar easily,
and lack fiber. You need to get the best nutrition for your choices. With this plan, there’s no obsessing over the glycemic index either, just a basic understanding of the principles. Keep in mind that certain factors can change a score, such as the riper the fruit, the higher the glycemic index score. But always choose ripe fruits and vegetables over unripe; they are healthier by far. Adding good fat to foods can lower the GI score. And keep in mind that the GI response to any given food also varies widely from person to person.
It can even vary within the same person from day to day. So it’s important to listen to your body and determine how the foods you are eating are affecting you.
More Than Weight Loss
Years ago when I was taking prerequisites for my master of science program in whole foods nutrition at Bastyr University, I worked for a weight-loss center part time as a nutrition counselor. I noticed that a number of people who entered the program looked healthy, meaning they had good skin color and tone and vibrancy—they were just overweight. Soon into the program, I noticed that though they were losing weight, they weren’t looking healthier. I observed a loss of skin tone, skin color turning a grayish pallor, and a loss of energy and vitality. I was alarmed. Even as a student I knew that it was not just about dropping weight; it was about getting healthier. I quit the job, unable to promote something that I felt did harm.
When you embark on a weight-loss program, it should be about getting healthier along with losing weight. Whether you want to lose 10, 20, 50, 100, or even 200 pounds, it isn’t just about getting the weight off any way you can. I know people who have lost weight through drastic means and ruined their health in the process.
Losing weight with vegetable juices and kicking off your program with the Weekend Weight-Loss Diet is the first step in choosing a weight-loss regimen that doesn’t sacrifice your health. That’s why I’m excited about introducing you to the Weekend Weight-Loss Diet. I know what it can do for you. So many people have praised this program and my other juice diets because of the increased health and energy they experienced. And if they can experience these great results, you can too. You’re off to a great start and a
lifetime of fitness!

My review of The Juice Lady's Weekend Weight-Loss Diet:

I love juicing and I love The Juice Lady! I always want to read a new Juice Lady book because I have read her last couple books and I always find something new. I wasn't sure this book was going to be very useful to me because my weight loss journey has come to an end. I have lost over fifty pounds and I no longer need (or want) to lose any weight. I am, however, always wanting to learn more about healthy eating and that is where this book came in handy for me.

I had battled with fibromyalgia for years and nutritional intervention and juicing has helped me heal from that nightmare. It has also helped me win the battle of weight loss. I never want to stop researching and learning though. This book is a treasure trove of useful information that goes way beyond a simple weekend of juicing. Cherie helps her readers with grocery shopping and understanding what to eat and what to avoid. I have loved Cherie's juicing recipe books, but this one is really excellent. Some of the information is a repeat of what I have read before, but it is nice to have all this wonderful information in one book. I highly recommend this book and I highly recommend implementing some nutritional intervention for health and healing. Cherie is a great motivator and coach.

A long journey from sickness to health

2012-01-23T16:34:00.000-05:00

I have posted about my fibromyalgia journey a couple times before, but I really wanted to re-write my post, in part as an update, and in part to give some better information about how I managed to get well.

My fibro journey started in 1999. I was living in Tucson and I was not being kind to my body. I was a party girl. I had just lost my mom to leukemia in 1997 and I did not handle it well, so I started some serious partying. I drank, I smoked a lot of pot and I didn’t really care much about food. My weight was very low, only 98 pounds. I was the poster child for unhealthy. Sometime in 1999 I started to get sick. I didn’t know what was going on, but I was scared. I went to the doctor and had some tests done. They tested me for Mono, Lyme Disease, Lupus, Rheumatoid Arthritis, even HIV. Everything came back negative. It was about this time, my world went completely out of control and I decided it was time to leave Tucson and be close to my family, so I moved to Atlanta where my dad and one of my brothers lived. I ignored my sickness for a while thinking it was probably just depression from all the trauma, but I kept getting worse. I started seeking medical care again and my new doctor ran all of the same tests over again and everything came out negative. That led to the diagnosis. The doctor told me that he thought I had a condition called fibromyalgia. I had heard of this, but I thought it was a made up disease. I was in total denial.

For those of you who don’t know what having fibro is like, let me tell you. It is a constant state of exhaustion. My joints ached. I had headaches. My skin would burn and feel bruised. Sometimes my skin hurt so bad, my clothing was painful and I didn’t want to be touched. This was just the earlier stages of fibro. I’ll get more into that later.

In 2003 I met my husband and we married a year later. On our first date, I told him about my fibro issues and he had this attitude that it was not going to be a permanent condition and I tried agreed with him. It was hard to agree though, especially when I finally had to quit my job because I just couldn’t do it any more.

For the longest time, I was going to doctors, but all they ever wanted to do was give me pills. They wanted to put me on antidepressants, anti-seizure medicine (I don’t have seizures!), I had to take a pill for my digestive issues and a pill for my headaches and very often a pill for anxiety. I finally adopted the mindset that this fibro would go away, it had to.

In 2007 my husband and I moved to North Carolina. We have loved it here, but I kept getting sicker. The fibro seemed to consume my entire body. I had no energy, at all. The pain got worse. Some days I felt like I couldn’t even move and my energy was so low that breathing was a chore. My digestive problems got worse, I was completely depressed and I was running out of hope. I noticed that my hair looked dry and thin and dull. My skin was chalky and blotchy. I looked like I was aging rapidly and to make matters worse, I was gaining weight, a lot of weight. What was going on? I fell into this sort of desperate acceptance. That probably doesn’t make any sense, but basically what I mean is that I desperately wanted to get better, but I just felt like it wasn’t going to happen. Doctors kept telling me to take pills and rest. I didn’t want to take pills and rest! I am a young woman who is used to living and doing! I read some books about fibro, but really, they were garbage. They were basically just a list of drug options and I still refused to replace a set of symptoms with another set of side effects. I was sick enough already!

Sometime in early 2010 I got a friend request on Facebook from a woman named Susan Ingebretson. When I looked at her profile, I noticed she wrote a book called FibroWHYalgia. I thought this was a catchy title and after reading some of her posts, I decided to buy the book. The book just sat on my shelf for a while until one day when I felt led to open it up. I turned to the chapter called Eating for Wellness and read:

Initially, I improved my diet, hoping to drop a few pounds. My results exceeded my wildest expectations. My pain levels dropped along with my weight. The more veggies I ate, the more I craved. Crisp, fresh cucumbers, snow peas, broccoli, spinach, and green beans tasted good to me. Before, I thought salads were for bunnies. I began to think of them as meals. I added goodies such as nuts, beans, veggies, and fruits. My salads hopped from the briar patch to the dinner table.

Shocking bonus: The more good stuff I ate, the fewer cravings I had for the bad stuff.

Prior to taking charge of my health, I was nutritionally illiterate. As I re-evaluated what I thought I knew about nutrition, I discovered the destructive role my misperceptions played in my health. Once I’d kick-started my healthy eating program, I knew this for sure: the better I ate, the better I felt. Eating nutrient dense, healthy foods reduced my dizziness, pain, and fatigue. I was onto something.

These few paragraphs would change my life. I started to take a very honest look at my diet and what I discovered was that I was continuing to be unkind to my body. True, I don’t drink or smoke or party at all anymore, but nothing I ate was real food. I ate nothing but processed food, I was hopelessly addicted to sugar and I drank soda. It was time to do what Sue did and take control of my health.

I started slowly, (in August 2010) eliminating the bad here and adding the healthy there. I did a lot of research of my own, just like Sue did and as I kept researching and learning, I made more changes. In the first couple weeks, I would say I felt pretty bad. The detoxing my body was experiencing was a little rough. It didn’t know what to do with all of this real food. Eventually, I noticed that I had more energy. Wow! Then I noticed that my aches and pains were reduced. And, I got brave one day and stepped on the scale. I had lost a few pounds! That inspired to me to keep at it. More research, more eliminating the bad and adding the healthy. The result: more healing AND more weight loss, less depression and anxiety. Wow! I started daring myself to get rid of more bad stuff. How long can I go without that handful of York Peppermint Patties after each meal? How long can I go without eating several handfuls of baked potato chips while waiting for my dinner to cook? How long can I go without that Pepsi? And, I started asking myself, “what do I want more?”. Do I want to be sick and fat or do I want to restore my health and get my life back? The answer was becoming clearer and much easier to handle. The cravings eventually subsided and my body stared to feel clean and energized. Then the really amazing part, the inner health started to show on the outside as well. My skin cleared up - no more blotches and I had a nice glow. My hair was full and shiny and my eyes were bright and clear. Wrinkles started to be minimized and my finger nails were stronger. Everything changed for me.

As of today, January 22, 2012, my health is restored and I have lost over 50 pounds. I still love my fruits and veggies. I have also added beans and nuts with the occasional animal products. Sometimes I do like to indulge, but I don’t like the achy feeling I get when I do eat something unhealthy.

So, what is a typical day like at my kitchen table? Breakfast is almost always minimally processed, plain, old-fashioned oatmeal (not the sugary crud in the packet, the real deal). I like to add lots of fresh blueberries, flaxseed and a touch of organic peanut butter and cinnamon. Lunch is usually a pile of raw veggies with some sort of protein like tuna or beans. I like to eat lots of spinach, carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes, celery. Lots and lots of veggies. Dinner is usually centered around veggies as well, my whole diet is plant-based. I like to have butternut squash or a sweet potato or a salad, it varies quite a bit, but as long as I have lots of veggies, I know my body is happy. I finally enjoy eating because I know I am restoring my health and I no longer have any digestive problems. I have finally gotten the toxic chemicals out and replaced them with nutrients - lots of nutrients.

I have recently taken to juicing as well. I love to mix up a batch of yummy fresh fruit/veggie juice for a meal or an appetizer. People think I am crazy for loving my juices, but it is the most effective way to deliver a massive amount of nutrients to your cells. I love the boost I get from it, and they taste much better than they look, I promise.

There are a few sources that I really want to give a huge thanks for helping me with this journey. First is to Sue Ingebretson for her book, FibroWHYalgia, that started it all. I am also grateful to the documentary Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead. I learned more about healing and juicing from the amazing stories of Joe Cross and Phil Staples. If you have not seen it, I highly recommend it. It is on Netflix. I also love the wisdom I have gotten from Joel Fuhrman, M.D. His books have taught me a great deal and I continue to turn to them often. My husband Del has stood by me, prayed for me and always believed in me to get through this. Without him and his love and support, I would not have been able to do this. And above all, I give my thanks to God. I prayed for years for a way out of this mess and He got me through it. He restored me and all the praise and the glory goes to Him.

Finally, I want to share a couple pictures of me - my before and after. In addition to the changes in my weight, take note of the changes with my skin and hair. You can see the improved health shining through. I want to share all of this with you not to brag about it. Instead I want to help you and inspire you. YOU can beat this problem. YOU don’t have to live this nightmare any longer. Can I pray for you? Can I answer any questions? Do you just need someone to listen? I’m here to help and inspire. God blessed me with this miracle and I know He will bless you too.

After

Before

Small Space Organizing by Kathryn Bechen

2012-01-21T18:33:00.000-05:00

About the book:

With a few tricks up your sleeve, small can be the new big!

While we may admire the spacious rooms in large homes we see in magazines or on TV, let's face it: most of us don't live in rambling estates. Instead, we live in homes, apartments, or condos with small rooms and even smaller closets. But you can enjoy an organized, beauty-filled life no matter what the size of your space. In this practical book, you'll learn how to

perform a room-by-room audit of your space to see if it's functioning at its best
make the most of existing storage space and find clever ways to add more
find creative ways to arrange furnishings and accessories that maximize space and bring harmony and style to the home
live graciously in a small space with others (especially those who aren't organized!)

Whether you're an empty nester who's downsizing, a newlywed setting up your first nest, or someone who just needs some creative new ideas, you'll love these strategies, tips, and solutions to maximize space and enhance your quality of life.

My review of Small Space Organizing:

There are certain spaces in my house that are large, and oddly enough, they are nice and organized. Then there are those spaces that are small. Those seem to be the places that are a disorganized mess. These areas serve a purpose, but keeping them organized is always a major chore. I was really looking forward to reading Small Space Organizing to get some extra tips to get these small spaces cleaned up. I liked this book because Kathyrn didn’t leave a single room out. There are plenty of useful and practical ideas for getting your entire home organized without having to spend a small fortune on organization.

I think the best chapter was the Home Office Haven. Our home office is a disaster and I know that if I could get my husband to implement Kathryn’s ideas, it would be a much nicer place for him to do business. And I have a collection obsession - books. My book collection is organized and tidy, but it takes up so much space in the house, there is little room for all the other stuff to be tidy. So overall, Small Space Organizing is a practical and useful book that I look forward to using in my own home.

Interview with Kathryn Bechen:

Q: Do you consider small space living a "quality of life" choice and if so, why?

A: Indeed, I do. Whatever housing lifestyle choice you make for your family I think is okay, but I think that you should make sure you're consciously choosing, and not just going with a McMansion in the 'burbs or an acreage in the country with a big house because you feel outside pressure from anyone else to do so. I believe housing size is a lifestyle choice too in that housing size and the number of possessions in it take up time in your life, and time IS your life, so you want to be sure you're spending your time in a way that feels right for you because you can never get time back! If living in a large home with a large yard full of flowers makes you happy because you like having big family and friend gatherings there, and you are comfortable with all the time, maintenance, and expense that all involves, then I think a larger home is right for you. If, like me and my husband, you would rather live in a (high-quality) small space that does not require hours of cleaning and large outlays of money for home maintenance, lawn care, and furnishings, plus gives you more time to spend doing enjoyable things together, having small dinners with a few friends, and traveling, then I think small space living is for you. And always, no matter what the size of your home space, personalize the furnishings and decor to your taste so it feels beautiful to you. That doesn't mean you have to spend tons of money; it means choosing furnishings and accessories within your budget that you feel are attractive.

Q: What does "rightsized" living mean?

A: I think "rightsized" is a relative term, personalized to you and your family. A home that seems small to one family might seem big to another. A home that seems small to you at one phase of your life might seem large at another time in your life. When I personally think of small space living, I think of about 400-1200 SF, but some people might think my 1200 SF apartment is big. I've heard people say they're downsizing to a "small 2700 SF house." To me, 2700 SF is big! Again, I'd like to inspire people to make very conscious choices as to the size of home space they live in, so they're happy, because I believe when you're happy at home, it radiates out in a positive way to others in the world. Kind of like when you find the perfect jeans that fit just right! And likewise, I'll be bold enough to declare here that when your home space doesn't feel appropriate and supportive to you, you sadly radiate that crankiness out into the world too!

Q: What's the first step to downsizing?

A: Buy a 3 inch three-ring notebook and clear sheet protectors and a pencil case that you can put on the binder rings so you can take notes, keep biz cards etc. in the sheet protector, and put pens and your keys in the pencil case. Begin by walking through every room in your home and list out every large item and furnishing that you want to donate or sell so you will be able to see what you're going to have to move. Do this with any outside storage sheds and the garage as well. Don't forget the attic or other out-of-the-way spaces. It's not carved in stone; you may have to walk through your home numerous times, and you may have to negotiate the items with your mate and family as well.

Q: Can someone really be happy, and stay organized, living in just one room?

A: Absolutely! Some people actually prefer it, especially if they live in a studio apartment in someplace like New York City where the excitement and culture of the city is their "backyard," or in San Diego, where parks and beaches are the same. In one room, everything has to have its place, and I believe every home should have only the things in it that really bring you joy, but when living in one room, that's even more important. Make your home beautiful to you, even if it's one small room!

Q: What's your best tip for creating a foyer if you don't have a "real" foyer?

A: If you enter right into your living room, create a "foyer" near the front door using an attractive small bedroom nightstand. Hang a mirror over it, and place a basket under the legs of the nightstand. Put your keys in the nightstand, put your shoes in the basket, and check your "do" every day in the mirror before you leave the house.

Q: What are your two best small space organizing tips?

A: 1. Keep your gadgets and appliances simple by buying only what you'll truly use.

2. Use all-white dishes and clear glassware to cut down on how many dish sets you buy. If a dish breaks, you can easily find a new similar white piece and not have to get a whole new set.

Q: How in the world can you create a "spa-like" experience in a teeny-tiny bathroom, especially if the kids' rubber duckies have taken up residence?

A: In a small home, especially if there is only one bathroom, the bathroom should ideally be totally free of clutter and toys. You can achieve that by giving each family member a plastic basket or tote to hold their toiletries and toys. Instead of being stored in the bathroom, each family member keeps their basket in their bedroom and carries it to and from the bathroom. They also keep their own towel and washcloth in their bedroom--hang it on a hook in the closet. Many of us used this M.O. in college. Assign time slots for each family member to bathe for 30=45 minutes daily each so there is no squabbling about sis taking too long in the bathroom. Set a timer if need be. Make it a family rule that each member will respect others' time in the bathroom and not interrupt so each family member feels they can have their private bathroom "spa time." And last but not least, each family member cleans up after themselves immediately after their bathroom time so it's clean for the next person. No whiskers in the sink and no pantyhose dripping on the bathroom rod!

Q: What's your best tip if a couple has to share a small home office?

A: (Laughs.) Pray! Seriously, unless you work on projects together often and need to collaborate, each person should have their own side, corner, or at least a desk that's uniquely theirs, and the other person should not invade their turf without permission. Do your best to keep order on both sides; don't let it get totally out of control with clutter as that's disrespectful to your mate if you are sharing a space. That being said, Nancy Neatfreak is going to have to lighten up a bit if she's married to Max Messy. My husband and I share a home office, and he has one side of the room and I have the other. I systematically put everything away at the end of the day, and he's a little bit looser with his paperwork, but not a messy. He uses a big black chair and office armoire that closes up so I can't see his paperwork, and I have an Old World feminine style desk that I love, and a pretty slipcovered chair. Put your personal decorative stamp on your side of the room, and don't worry about your styles matching. When people walk into our home office they laugh and immediately comment on whose side is whose because it's very obvious!

Q: What's your best organizing tip for kids sharing a bedroom?

A: Just like a home office shared by mates, kids should each have their own side that's personalized to them. Or at least their own bed if using bunk beds, for instance. I think each child should have their own desk for school studies as well, and their own dresser and side of the closet.

Q: How is it possible to create an organized "library" in a small home?

A: Buy tall white bookshelves and line your longest living room wall as a focal point. Arrange the books on the shelf in an artful way, mixing in collected knickknacks for an interesting look. Or, today your e-reader, in lieu of bookshelves, can be your library in a small space if you don't want to dust bookshelves. Also, if you have a dining nook, you can put floor to ceiling bookcases to create a charming little library.

Q: In your book you talk about the binder notebook method. What is that exactly?

A: It's the three-ring binder notebook I mentioned in the downsizing question above. It helps you have a portable place to jot down your thoughts, plus store biz cards and fliers from housing developments you're touring etc.

Q: What free download do you have today for our readers/listeners so they can get started right away in organizing their small space home?

A: Go to www.SmallSpaceOrganizing.com and sign up to get the free article I wrote, Small Space Savvy in a Big Stuff World. There's also another free home organizing and decorating article there as a bonus.

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

This book was provided for review by Revell.

Satan's Dirty Little Secret by Steve Foss

2012-01-20T09:43:00.003-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Steve Foss

and the book:

Satan's Dirty Little Secret

Charisma House; Reprint edition (January 3, 2012)

***Special thanks to Jon Wooten of Charisma House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Steve Foss has traveled the nations for more than twenty years ministering to millions of people and training tens of thousands of pastors and leaders. Steve is the founding pastor of The Upper Room Church, one of the fastest growing churches in Texas. He is well known around the world as a powerful prophetic voice to this generation.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

The Secret Strategies of the Enemy—REVEALED

Satan has always used the same schemes to bind, oppress, confound, and deceive mankind. What he is doing today is nothing new—the traps he sets for us are the same ones he set two thousand years ago.

Satan’s Dirty Little Secret exposes the two demons behind all of Satan’s attacks. This prophetic revelation given in a vision to Pastor Steve Foss exposes how the enemy operates and shows you…
How Satan uses the same two spirits he released on Eve in the garden as gateways to every other form of demonic assault
How to successfully defeat these weapons and live free from the bondage of the enemy’s attacks

The power of the Holy Spirit and God’s Word can transform you into the image of God. Live in the confidence of God’s love and power. You can triumph over Satan and accomplish everything God has planned for your life!

Product Details:

List Price: $11.99

Paperback: 144 pages
Publisher: Charisma House; Reprint edition (January 3, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1616386509
ISBN-13: 978-1616386504

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Satan’s Dirty Little Secret
Steve Foss
1
satan’s strategy exposed
For we are not ignorant of [Satan’s] devices.
—2 Corinthians 2:11
For we are not ignorant of [Satan’s] devices” (2 Cor. 2:11, kjv). This was the declaration the apostle Paul made two thousand years ago—a declaration of an awareness of the strategies of the enemy, an awareness that has been lost in our day. The traps that the enemy has set for us today are the same as they were two thousand years ago. Satan is doing nothing new today. He has not yet had an original idea. He is
playing the same game he played in the Garden of Eden.
If you’re like many Christians, you’ve probably thought that if you had been in that garden, you surely wouldn’t have disobeyed God’s command and eaten of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (Gen. 2:17). Yet every day of our lives we are presented with this same temptation. Satan challenges us with
the same questions he posed to Eve. And, unfortunately, most days we eat of the tree. The fruit binds us, holds us, and dictates almost every move we make.
The war to overcome sin often seems to be an overwhelming task for most. We believe in the finished work of Jesus on the cross, and yet we are bound by this continual cycle of yielding to temptation. Some of you reading this may be feeling a bit smug right now because you think you have a good handle on sin. You may be in a worse condition. The reality is that the church tends to limit sin to the major moral sins—lying,
cheating, adultery, fornication, drunkenness, and such like. Yet the stronghold of sin goes so much deeper in our lives.
Sin affects how we think, what we imagine, what we buy, sell, gather, and give. It affects how we worship, work, and live every aspect of our lives. It leads us into wrong relationships and to wrongly relate to one another. Sin dominates our viewpoints, our work ethics, and, most disturbingly, it dominates how we conduct ministry.
The same fruit from that same tree in the garden is being offered to all of us throughout our lives, and we keep eating it, often in the name of God. The focal point of all of our troubles is the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. This is where it all begins and where it can end. It is what happens here on a daily basis that will determine if the victory Christ has purchased for us will become a living reality in our lives. Once
again God is about to open the eyes of a generation to the strategies of Satan.
By revelation God is going to destroy Satan’s most powerful advantage: his ability to operate in the midst of ignorance. In this book we are going to uncover Satan’s most diabolic strategy—how it works and how it affects our lives. We are going to expose his devices and start down the path of true freedom. I pray that together we will have an Isaiah experience and say, “Woe is me! for I am undone” (Isa. 6:5, kjv). Oh, that God would give us such an encounter with truth that the strongholds of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil are permanently broken in our lives.
The Vision
It was early 1991. I was the youth pastor at a church in Georgia. I had only been on the job for two months when I was invited to speak at the local high school’s Christian Bible study. They asked if I would speak two weeks in a row. I readily accepted and began to plan my strategy.
You see, this was hard-core Baptist country—Southern Baptist, conservative, don’t-give-me-that-Pentecostal-stuff country. I, on the other hand, was a hard-core Holy Ghost–filled, tongues-talking, hands-laying, miracle-believing, prophecy-preaching fireball. I knew that this Bible study had about seventy in attendance every Wednesday morning. I also knew that all except a handful of them came from noncharismatic/Pentecostal backgrounds.
They gave me about fifteen minutes to speak. My strategy was this. I would preach a basic word on the revelation of Jesus the first week, then hit them with the power of God the second week. The first week went exactly as I had planned. I preached, and they were quite engaged. The revelation anointing flowed
strong. By the end of the fifteen minutes they were on the edge of their seats wanting more. I had them right where I wanted them. The next week I was going to blast them.
The day before the second meeting I shut myself off for an extended time of prayer. I knew that if I was going to see the power of God break out on this campus, I was going to have to fight some intensive spiritual warfare. I had been trained by my spiritual father, Dr. Morris Cerullo, in how to tear down
demonic strongholds over a region. As I went to prayer I had no idea that what was about to transpire was going to forever change the course of my life.
During that time of prayer I had two visions. The first vision was of the upcoming meeting itself. I saw a young man whom I had never met. I saw myself calling him to come and stand up front. I then prophesied over him about the call of God on his life. Then I simply spoke the word of the Lord over him, and he fell under the power of the Spirit. In the vision I saw his face and exactly where he would be sitting.
When I stood up to speak the next day at the meeting, there he was. And he was sitting exactly where I had seen him in the vision. I preached for a few minutes on experiencing the power of God. Then I called this young man out. He came and stood before me. He was from a non-Spirit-filled background and had no idea what was about to transpire.
I had no helpers with me, so I asked for somebody to come and stand behind him. The volunteer didn’t know what was going to happen. I then proceeded to prophesy over this young man about the call of God on his life to preach. He began to weep. He said that the previous night he told his mother for the first time that he felt God was calling him to be a preacher. I then looked him in the eyes, standing five feet away from him, and said, “Jesus fill him with Your power right now!” As soon as I spoke, a wave of God’s power swept through that room and hit this young man. He immediately flew backward under God’s power. He landed in the arms of the volunteer, who was in total shock. I turned just in time to see seventy
mouths drop open and all heads turn as this young man was being blasted by the power of God. It was all I could do to keep from laughing when I saw the sheer look of shock on their faces.
All together they looked at the young man, then looked at me, and then back at the young man. You could hear gasps all over the room. I opened the Word to share a couple of scriptures on what just happened. Then the bell rang, and they slowly, in shock, filed out of the room. Needless to say, I was the talk of the school by the end of the day.
Much transpired at that school over the next several months, but that will have to wait for another book. As awesome as this was, it was the second vision that changed my life. After I had this first vision about the young man, I began to go into spiritual warfare prayer. I began to bind specific demon spirits, the ones you would expect to be operating at a high school. I bound lust, drugs, hate, unforgiveness, fornication, pornography, violence, drunkenness, and such like.
I had a fair amount of experience in spiritual warfare and had gained a great sense of what was going on in the spirit realm. I could sense whether the stronghold was breaking and when it broke. This day, however, it felt like I couldn’t make any headway. I prayed and prayed, but each of these spirits seemed to not be moved.
As I pressed deeper into prayer, I had an open vision. I saw the entire school as if I was standing several hundred yards away. I saw the ground, the campus, the sky, and something very strange.
I saw coming out from under the ground two giant tentacles, one from the left of the campus and the other from the right. They were very thick near the ground and got thinner as they rose higher. The two tentacles interlaced themselves as they met over the top of the center of the campus. They gripped each other powerfully. They were huge.
Then I noticed that attached all along these two tentacles were demon spirits. Each had a name written on it: lust, hate, drunkenness, and so forth. They each had what looked like two arms with which they grabbed hold of the tentacles. They didn’t hold them on the outside. They were actually rooted into the tentacles themselves.
When I saw them, I began to bind them in Jesus’s name. I called out lust by name and commanded it to go. I saw this demon of lust get powerfully buffeted and blown backward. It was like a leaf during a strong gust of wind. It bowed back and shook, but its roots in the tentacles were undamaged. I went from demon to demon, and the same thing happened. The more I prayed, the harder they got hit. I started to realize that if they didn’t have roots in the two tentacles, my prayers would have easily driven them away from the campus and the students.
As this vision continued, I asked the Lord, “What are these two tentacles?” I knew if I could break their power, all the others would easily go. The Lord spoke to me these words that have changed my life. God said, “These are the two demon spirits that all other spirits get their strength from.”
These two demon spirits empower all the other demon spirits. This was the mother lode of revelation. God then said, “They are the same two spirits that Satan released upon Eve in the garden. They are the same two demon spirits that Satan continues to release today.”
I cried out to God, “What are they? What are their names?” I could easily see the names of all the smaller demons, but I couldn’t see any names on these. It amazed me how the demons we all think are so big and powerful were actually quite small. Lust, drunkenness, drug addiction, violence, hatred, and fear
were all small and relatively weak without these two giant demon spirits.
I prayed for quite a while. I knew I had to go deep in the spirit to see what was under the surface. After quite a while the vision expanded. Now not only could I see above the ground, but I also saw under the ground below the campus. Each of the tentacles curved back toward each other and nearly touched.
They looked like giant roots—like a bulb, fat at the bottom and thinner as it got farther away from the root.
Written on these roots were their names. One was called insecurity, and the other was called inferiority.

My review of Satan's Dirty Little Secret:

I was reading through this book at the same time I was reading The Harbinger. This made for quite an interesting combination. Both books are prophetic in nature and both are very eye opening. Satan's Dirty Little Secret has some depth to it, especially for such a short book.

The introduction of this book speaks volumes. Yes, some of it is a bit difficult to digest and it does challenge me. I say it does challenge me instead of saying "it did challenge me" because the author encourages the reader to read and re-read the chapters, which I intend to do. There is a lot to take in and while it's a fairly quick read, there is a lot that can be missed if the reader is not taking care to really absorb this prophetic vision.

There seems to be a surge of prophetic books, both fiction and non-fiction, lately and I'm not sure exactly what to make of it. It's either a big money maker or God is revealing Himself to His children more and more to get us as a country to turn back to Him. The enemy certainly tries to gain a foothold on us and this book is an interesting revelation as to how he does it and how we can combat it. I did struggle with this book somewhat. I can imagine many readers would feel the same way, but Steve Foss delivers a message that God wants His children to hear and it shouldn't be ignored.

Love Blooms in Winter by Lori Copeland

2012-01-19T00:00:00.000-05:00

Today's Wild Card author is:

Lori Copeland

and the book:

Love Blooms in Winter (The Dakota Diaries)

Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2012)

***Special thanks to Karri | Marketing Assistant |Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lori Copeland is the author of more than 90 titles, both historical and contemporary fiction. With more than 3 million copies of her books in print, she has developed a loyal following among her rapidly growing fans in the inspirational market. She has been honored with the Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice Award, The Holt Medallion, and Walden Books' Best Seller award. In 2000, Lori was inducted into the Missouri Writers Hall of Fame. She lives in the beautiful Ozarks with her husband, Lance, and their three children and five grandchildren.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

This new romance from bestselling author Lori Copeland portrays God’s miraculous provision when none seems possible. An engagement, a runaway train, and a town of quirky, loveable people make for more adventure than Tom Curtis is expecting. But it is amazing what can bloom in winter with God in charge.

1892—Mae Wilkey’s sweet next-door neighbor, Pauline, is suffering from old age and dementia and desperately needs family to come help her. But Pauline can’t recall having kin remaining. Mae searches through her desk and finds a name—Tom Curtis, who may just be the answer to their prayers.

Tom can’t remember an old aunt named Pauline, but if she thinks he’s a long-lost nephew, he very well may be. After two desperate letters from Mae, he decides to pay a visit. An engagement, a runaway train, and a town of quirky, loveable people make for more of an adventure than Tom is expecting. But it is amazing what can bloom in winter when God is in charge of things.

Product Details:

List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736930191
ISBN-13: 978-0736930192

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Dwadlo, North Dakota, 1892

The winter of ’92 is gonna go down as one of the worst Dwadlo’s ever seen,” Hal Murphy grumbled as he dumped the sack of flour he got for his wife on the store counter. “Mark my words.” He turned toward Mae Wilkey, the petite postmistress, who was stuffing mail in wooden slots.

“Spring can’t come soon enough for me.” She stepped back, straightening the row of letters and flyers. She didn’t have to record Hal’s prediction; it was the same every year. “I’d rather plant flowers than shovel snow any day of the week.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hal nodded to the store owner, Dale Smith, who stood five foot seven inches with a rounded belly and salt-and-pepper hair swept to a wide front bang. “Add a couple of those dill pickles, will you?” Hal watched as Dale went over to the barrel and fished around inside, coming up with two fat pickles.

“That’ll fix me up.” Hal turned his attention back to the mail cage, his eyes fixed on the lovely sight. “Can’t understand why you’re still single, Mae. You’re as pretty as a raindrop on a lily pad.” He sniffed the air. “And you smell as good.”

Smiling, Mae moved from the letter boxes to the cash box. Icy weather may have delayed the train this morning, but she still had to count money and record the day’s inventory. “Now, Hal, you know I’d marry you in a wink if you weren’t already taken.” Hal and Clara had been married forty-two years, but Mae’s usual comeback never failed to put a sparkle in the farmer’s eye. Truth be, she put a smile on every man’s face, but she wasn’t often aware of the flattering looks she received. Her heart belonged to Jake Mallory, Dwadlo’s up-and-coming attorney.

Hal nodded. “I know. All the good ones are taken, aren’t they?”

She nodded. “Every single one. Especially in Dwadlo.”

The little prairie town was formed when the Chicago & North Western Railroad came through five years ago. Where abundant grass, wild flowers, and waterfalls had once flourished, hundreds of miles of steel rail crisscrossed the land, making way for big, black steam engines that hauled folks and supplies. Before the railroad came through, only three homesteads had dotted the rugged Dakota Territory: Mae’s family’s, Hal and Clara’s, and Pauline Wilson’s.

But in ’87 life changed, and formerly platted sites became bustling towns. Pine Grove and Branch Springs followed, and Dwadlo suddenly thrived with immigrants, opportunists, and adventure-seeking folks staking claims out West. A new world opened when the Dakota Boom started.

Hal’s gaze focused on Mae’s left hand. “Jake still hasn’t popped the question?”

Mae sighed. Hal was a pleasant sort, but she really wished the townspeople would occupy their thoughts with something other than her and Jake’s pending engagement. True, they had been courting for six years and Jake still hadn’t proposed, but she was confident he would. He’d said so, and he was a man of his word—though every holiday, when a ring would have been an appropriate gift, that special token of his intentions failed to materialize. Mae had more lockets than any one woman could wear, but Jake apparently thought that she could always use another one. What she could really use was his hand in marriage. The bloom was swiftly fading from her youth, and it would be nice if her younger brother, Jeremy, had a man’s presence in his life.

“Be patient, Hal. He’s busy trying to establish a business.”

“Good lands. How long does it take a man to open a law office?”

“Apparently six years and counting.” She didn’t like the uncertainty but she understood it, even if the town’s population didn’t. She had a good life, what with work, church, and the occasional social. Jake accompanied her to all public events, came over two or three times a week, and never failed to extend a hand when she needed something. It was almost as though they were already married.

“The man’s a fool,” Hal declared. “He’d better slap a ring on that finger before someone else comes along and does it for him.”

“Not likely in Dwadlo,” Mae mused. The town itself was made up of less than a hundred residents, but other folks lived in the surrounding areas and did their banking and shopping here. Main Street consisted of the General Store, Smith’s Grain and Feed, the livery, the mortuary, the town hall and jail (which was almost always empty), Doc Swede’s office, Rosie’s Café, and an empty building that had once housed the saloon. Mae hadn’t spotted a sign on any business yet advertising “Husbands,” but she was certain her patience would eventually win out.

With a final smile Hal moved off to pay for his goods. Mae hummed a little as she put the money box in the safe. Looking out the window, she noticed a stiff November wind snapping the red canvas awning that sheltered the store’s porch. Across the square, a large gazebo absorbed the battering wind. The usually active gathering place was now empty under a gray sky. On summer nights music played, and the smell of popcorn and roasted peanuts filled the air. Today the structure looked as though it were bracing for another winter storm. Sighing, Mae realized she already longed for green grass, blooming flowers, and warm breezes.

After Hal left Mae finished up the last of the chores and then reached for her warm wool cape. She usually enjoyed the short walk home from work, but today she was tired—and her feet hurt because of the new boots she’d purchased from the Montgomery Ward catalog. On the page they had looked comfortable with their high tops and polished leather, but on her feet they felt like a vise.

Slipping the cape’s hood over her hair, she said goodbye to Dale and then paused when her hand touched the doorknob. “Oh, dear. I really do need to check on Pauline again.”

“How’s she doing?” The store owner paused and leaned on his broom. “I noticed she hasn’t been in church recently.”

Dale always reminded Mae of an owl perching on a tree limb, his big, dark blue eyes swiveling here and there. He might not talk a body’s leg off, but he kept up on town issues. She admired the quiet little man for what he did for the community and respected the way he preached to the congregation on Sundays.

How was Pauline doing? Mae worried the question over in her mind. Pauline lived alone, and she shouldn’t. The elderly woman was Mae’s neighbor, and she checked on her daily, but Pauline was steadily losing ground.

“She’s getting more and more fragile, I’m afraid. Dale, have you ever heard Pauline speak of kin?”

The small man didn’t take even a moment to ponder the question. “Never heard her mention a single word about family of any kind.”

“Hmm…me neither. But surely she must have some.” Someone who should be here, in Dwadlo, looking after the frail soul. Mae didn’t resent the extra work, but the post office and her brother kept her busy, and she really didn’t have the right to make important decisions regarding the elderly woman’s rapidly failing health.

Striding back to the bread rack, she picked up a fresh loaf. Dale had private rooms at the back of the store where he made his home, and he was often up before dawn baking bread, pies, and cakes for the community. Most folks in town baked their own goods, but there were a few, widowers and such, who depended on Dale’s culinary skills. By this hour of the day the goods were usually gone, but a few remained. Placing a cherry pie in her basket as well, she called, “Add these things to my account, please, Dale. And pray for Pauline too.”

Nodding, he continued sweeping, methodically running the stiff broomcorn bristles across the warped wood floor.

The numbing wind hit Mae full force when she stepped off the porch. Her hood flew off her head and an icy gust of air snatched away her breath. Putting down her basket, she retied the hood before setting off for the brief walk home. Dwadlo was laid out in a rather strange pattern, a point everyone agreed on. Businesses and homes were built close together, partly as shelter from the howling prairie winds and partly because there wasn’t much forethought given to town planning. Residents’ homes sat not a hundred feet from the store. The whole community encompassed less than five acres.

Halfway to her house, snowflakes began swirling in the air. Huddling deeper into her wrap, Mae concentrated on the path as the flakes grew bigger.

She quickly covered the short distance to Pauline’s. The dwelling was little more than a front room, tiny kitchen, and bedroom, but she was a small woman. Pauline pinned her yellow-white hair in a tight knot at the base of her skull, and she didn’t have a tooth in her head. She chewed snuff, which she freely admitted was an awful habit, but Mae had never heard her speak of giving it up.

Her faded blue eyes were as round as buttons, and no matter what kind of day she was having, it was always a new one to her, filled with wonders. Her mind wasn’t what it used to be. She had good and bad days, but mostly days when her moods changed as swift as summer lightning. She could be talking about tomatoes in the garden patch when suddenly she would be discussing how to spin wool.

Mae noted a soft wisp of smoke curling up from the chimney and smiled. Pauline had remembered to feed the fire this afternoon, so this was a good day.

Unlatching the gate, she followed the path to the front porch. In summertime the white railings hung heavy with red roses, and the scent of honeysuckle filled the air. This afternoon the wind howled across the barren flower beds Pauline carefully nurtured during warmer weather. Often she planted okra where petunias should be, but she enjoyed puttering in the soil and the earth loved her. She brought fresh tomatoes, corn, and beans to the store during spring and summer, and pumpkins and squash lined the railings in the fall.

In earlier days Pauline’s quilts were known throughout the area. She and her quilting group had made quite a name for themselves when Dwadlo first became a town. Four women excelled in the craft. One had lived in Pine Grove, and two others came from as far away as Branch Springs once a month to break bread together and stitch quilts. But one by one the women had died off, leaving Pauline to sew alone in her narrowing world.

Stomping her boots on the porch, Mae said under her breath, “I don’t mind winter, Lord, but could we perhaps have a little less of it?” The only answer was the wind whipping her garments. Tapping lightly on the door, she called, “Pauline?”

Mae stepped back and waited to hear the shuffle of feet. Pauline used to answer the door in less than twenty seconds. It took longer now. Mae made a fist with her gloved hand and banged a little harder. The wind howled around the cottage eaves. She closed her eyes and prayed that Jeremy had remembered to stack sufficient firewood beside the kitchen door. The boy was generally responsible, and she thanked God every day that she had him to lean on. He had been injured by forceps during birth, which left him with special needs. He was a very happy fourteen-year-old with the reasoning power of a child of nine.

A full minute passed. Mae frowned and tried the doorknob. Pauline couldn’t hear herself yell in a churn, but she might also be asleep. The door opened easily, and Mae peeked inside the small living quarters. She saw that a fire burned low in the woodstove, and Pauline’s rocking chair sat empty.

Stepping inside, she closed the door and called again. “Pauline? It’s Mae!”

The ticking of the mantle clock was the only sound that met her ears.

“Pauline?” She lowered her hood and walked through the living room. She paused in the kitchen doorway.

“Oh, Pauline!”

My review of Love Blooms in Winter:

Love Blooms in Winter is one of those ‘curl up, relax and enjoy a nice story’ kind of books. I have not read many of Lori Copeland’s books, but I am starting to really enjoy her stories. I especially liked this book. It is a bit on the slow side at some points, but with a book like this, a little slowness can be relaxing. If I could describe this book in one word, I would say relaxing. I don’t mind a book that is a little slow as long as it is a relaxing story.

I enjoyed the characters in the small town of Dwadlo, North Dakota. Pauline added a nice touch of humor and it was hard not to care about her. And of course, Tom is the perfect gentleman hero with much more patience than I would ever have. Overall, Love Blooms in Winter is a satisfying, and I’ll say it again, relaxing story for those cold winter days when you just want to snuggle up with a good book.

The Mulligans of Mt. Jefferson by Don Reid

2012-01-18T17:03:00.001-05:00

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Mulligans of Mt Jefferson David C. Cook (January 1, 2012) by Don Reid

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Don is one of the original members of the STATLER BROTHERS, the most award-winning act in the history of country music. He and his brother and two friends began singing in their hometown of Staunton, Virginia when Don was only fourteen years old. Working all over their home and neighboring states as a part time group, they were discovered in 1964 by Johnny Cash and given their first record contract. By the time Don was 20 years old, the STATLERS had their first major, world-wide hit record with FLOWERS ON THE WALL, which started a string of hits that generated a career in the music industry that lasted for four decades. The STATLERS have been recipients of multiple industry awards:

It wasn’t until the STATLER BROTHERS decided to retire from traveling in 2002 that Don pursued his writing career to another level. Having songwriting and scriptwriting under his belt, the next obvious step was to write a book. And that book was the scripture based HEROES AND OUTLAWS OF THE BIBLE published in June of 2002 by New Leaf Press. He has since written two other non-fiction books and in 2008 saw another dream come true for Don when he released his first novel, O LITTLE TOWN. Novel number two came in the form of ONE LANE BRIDGE, and THE MULLIGANS OF MT. JEFFERSON, is a sequel to O LITTLE TOWN.

Don is the father of two sons. Debo and his wife, Julie, and daughters Sela Mae and Adra, live within a stone’s throw. You may have seen Debo’s name on many songs written with Don on albums over the years.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Cal, Harlan, and Buddy grow up together in a small Virginia town in the years before the second World War. United by age, proximity, and temperament, they get into—and out of—all the trouble that boys manage to find. They even earn a nickname from a local restaurateur who gives the boys their first jobs and plenty of friendly advice. “Uncle” Vic calls them the Mulligans, because they always seem to find a way through a thicket of trouble—family problems, girls, college, war—to success. Cal and Harlan and Buddy have been blessed with second chances.

Now it’s 1959, and police lieutenant Buddy receives an early-morning phone call: his friend Harlan, a store owner, has been shot in a break-in. Cal, now a preacher, meets Buddy at the hospital, and together, as professionals and as friends, they begin to unravel what might have happened to Harlan.

If you would like to read the first chapter of The Mulligans of Mt Jefferson, go HERE.

My review of The Mulligans of Mt. Jefferson:

I have not had the pleasure of reading one of Don Reid’s books in the past, but I can say that The Mulligan’s of Mt. Jefferson was indeed a pleasure. Small town, coming of age stories are always very appealing for me and this book is a perfect example of why. We get to see each character up close and personal and how their lives come together.

I really can’t think of anything I didn’t like about this book. The writing was terrific, the story was interesting and the Christian themes of forgiveness and starting over are among my favorites when it comes to Christian fiction. The Mulligans of Mt. Jefferson is definitely going to be on my favorites list for this year for such a wide variety of reasons. Usually with a good book, I can find one little thing that I may not have liked, but not with this book. It’s rare that I enjoy a book as much as I enjoyed this one. I highly recommend it! I’m not sure how many books Don Reid has written, but I definitely want to read them all now.

Love Lifted Me by Sara Evans and Rachel Hauck

2012-01-17T22:16:00.005-05:00

About the book:

Jade never knew happily-ever-after would be this messy, loud . . . delicious.

Jade Benson embraces unexpected motherhood when her husband Max gains custody of his young son. As she and Max work out their newly formed family, an invitation to coach Texas high school football sends them on a journey.

Then a stranger reveals a painful secret, and Jade faces her hardest challenge yet. When she surrenders her heart to God and to her husband, Jade discovers the joy of love lifting her above her fears.

My review of Love Lifted Me:

I have enjoyed this entire Songbird series and this final book, Love Lifted Me was no exception. I have felt through this series that Sara Evans and Rachel Hauck made a very good writing team. Rachel has been a favorite author since my early days of reading Christian fiction, so I knew her presence in this story would again be an asset.

It was nice to see Jade and Max working to resolve their issues, and there were many. That was one sticking point I have had through this series. There was just so much drama and baggage. It almost felt like too much sometimes. The tension would be high, then drop suddenly, but that is how life is sometimes and I really didn’t take issue with that aspect too much. By the third book, I was used to it and I knew to expect it, so I just let myself relax and enjoy my time with these characters again.

So, overall, Love Lifted Me is certainly and uplifting book and very relevant to a lot of similar struggles that too many couples today must face. I came away from this book feeling satisfied that the authors did their jobs in bringing the reader into the lives of the characters and leaving the reader satisfied. I am glad that I read this series from the start. It helped to understand the characters and their struggles much better.

This book was provided for review by Thomas Nelson.

The Captive Heart by Dale Cramer

2012-01-10T22:19:00.000-05:00

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Captive Heart Bethany House (January 1, 2012) by Dale Cramer

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Dale Cramer spent his formative years traveling the world as an Army brat, then settled in Georgia at the age of fifteen when his father retired.

After high school he became an electrician, a job that took him to places as diverse as power plants, stadia, airports, high-rise office buildings and a hard-rock mining operation.

Twenty-five years of experiences in the trades provided him with the wealth of characters, stories and insights that populate his novels.

When he married his childhood friend, Pam, in 1975 he had no way of knowing they would not have children until fifteen years later.

In his early forties, when Dale left his job to become a stay-at-home dad, he suddenly found himself with time on his hands, so he pursued a lifelong dream and taught himself to write.

Using an online writer’s forum as a training ground, he wrote his first short stories in 1996. As his writing skills improved he turned to novels, publishing his first book, Sutter’s Cross, in 2003.

Since then, Dale has published four more novels and garnered a measure of critical acclaim with two Christy Awards, a listing among Publisher’s Weekly’s Best Books of 2004 and numerous other Best lists. Dale and his wife Pam live in Georgia with their two sons.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Bandit troubles intensify as Caleb Bender's family tries to settle into their new life in 1920s Paradise Valley. When El Pantera kidnaps Rachel and leaves her brother, Aaron, for dead, Jake Weaver and the Mexican native Domingo pursue the bandit leader to his mountain stronghold in a hopeless rescue attempt. Jake and Domingo manage to escape with Rachel, with the bandits hot on their trail. In a desperate attempt to avoid recapture, Domingo puts himself squarely in harm's way, giving Jake and Rachel time to get away. This is not the quiet life Caleb Bender envisioned when he led his family out of Ohio. What is a father to make of his daughter's obvious affection for a man outside the fold? And how will a pacifist Amishman like Caleb respond to the events that threaten his family and their way of life?

If you would like to read the first chapter of The Captive Heart, go HERE

My review of The Captive Heart:

Not being the world’s biggest Amish fiction fan, I always proceed cautiously when starting an Amish novel. Having read the first book in this series, Paradise Valley, I had a pretty good idea what to expect from Dale Cramer. One of the things I like the most about Dale’s books is simply is writing style. He is the type of author who knows how to put his readers right into the story. I definitely found that more in The Captive Heart than in the previous book. Because of this, it was a hard book to put down once I got started, which is rare for me with Amish novels.

Another thing about this book, and this series, that is different from the run of the mill Amish novels is the setting. An Amish novel, series actually, set in Mexico already changes the typical formula found in many Amish novels and makes it much more interesting. The setting allowed the author to create a story that is different and unique and interesting.

Overall, The Captive Heart is a strong and very well written book that has broken the mold of Amish novels. There are very few Amish novel writers that I really look forward to, but I think Dale Cramer is well on his way to being one of them.