Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 26
September 20, 2020
Get Away with Me
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Perspective is key.
With a change in perspective, we often see a difficult situation differently.
Viewing something from another angle may show us that things aren’t as bad as we thought.
We may recognize a pending answer and not just an overwhelming problem.
We may hear more clearly, especially if we can get away from the clamor.
Jesus said it best:
“Come to me if you’re tired and overwhelmed.”
Eugene H. Peterson paraphrased Jesus’ words in The Message:
“Get away with me.”
This paraphrase is one of my favorites. If you’ve not read it before, please view this verse today with an open heart. But regardless of the Bible version you prefer, let the words of Jesus from Matthew 11:28 sink down into you and permeate your soul.
“Are you tired? Worn out?
Burned out on religion?
Get away with me and you’ll recover your life.
I’ll show you how to take a real rest.
Walk with me
and work with me—
watch how I do it.
Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.
I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.
Keep company with me and you’ll
learn to live freely and lightly.”
Matthew 11:28
Whether it’s a camping trip, a quick weekend, an early-morning quiet time, or a few stolen minutes sitting on the bathroom floor behind a locked door—get away with Him. Pour out your heart. Listen to His comfort. Take hold of His peace. You’ll come away strengthened and refreshed.
~
Get away with me.
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She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from breaking apart and tipped her head back, standing soul-naked in the night.
“Oh, God.” Her voice squeezed up and floated out to the countless stars. “Oh, God, help me. I’ve deceived others and myself as well.”
A light breeze brushed against her, and with it came the aroma of someone’s supper—evidence of home and family and togetherness. All the things she longed for that seemed as far from her reach as the sparkling Dipper.
Slowly, another essence whispered through the cupola. Nearly unnoticeable at first, it grew with soothing warmth, washing over her bare soul, her past mistakes.
Come, Thou fount…
Not her mother’s voice this time, but her own—small and thin and bleeding. “Oh, to grace how great a debtor, daily I’m constrained to be.”
The words came with new meaning, not just words to a song, but words for her life. Unexpected and full of peace. ~An Unexpected Redemption
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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September 14, 2020
Exercise Your Free Will
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Every time I pull up to the stoplight at the highway intersection pictured above, I exercise my free will by complying with what the sign says.
The first vehicle to arrive at the light has room to stop on the other side of the tracks. The second vehicle might be able to squeeze in behind the first, but the third will be squarely on the tracks, followed by a line of eager motorists waiting for the light to change.
As you can see, the sign clearly says, “Do not stop on tracks.”
The latent twelve-year-old inside my head always chirps, “Duh!”
However, I see people stop on the tracks all the time.
This is a two-lane road with barricades on either side before the tracks. If a train comes while traffic is waiting, the automatic arms lower across the road. I don’t want to be in the car boxed in by other vehicles and stuck on the tracks, unable to escape the situation.
I don’t want the sign above my box at the cemetery to say, “Died of stupidity.”
Simply put, there is protection in obedience. Yet how many times do our independence-hackles rise against such wisdom? We don’t like the word obedience because we want to make our own choices and we don’t want somebody else telling us what to do.
God in His creative love and wisdom gave us free will. He also gave us advice regarding what works and what doesn’t when it comes to living on this beautiful earth. We exercise our free will by taking His advice or not.
At various times, we all choose “not.”
Author and Bible scholar Dallas Willard writes in Renovation of the Heart, “Certainly the will of a spiritual being [mankind] is the one thing in his creation that God chooses not to override … God will not force it to do what he wants. It has its choice – though it does not have its choice of the consequences of choosing what it wants.”
It’s those consequences that bite us.
The fifteenth chapter of the book of Proverbs has a great deal to say about correction, discipline, prudence, wisdom, and other outdated words, particularly verses 5-12. In fact, the whole book is full of witty sayings about wisdom and decisions.
Let’s exercise our free will by listening to what God has to say and making wise choices.
A mocker resents correction;
He will not consult the wise.
Proverbs 15:12 NIV
Choose today whom you will serve … .
But as for me and my family, we will serve the Lord.
Joshua 24:15 NLT
Protection in obedience.
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Afraid to push any higher than the grass, Mae Ann dragged herself to the nearest bush. Cade scuttled right beside her, shielding her from the rise. He gave her the gun and crept back to the stump for the box of shells. When he returned, he pulled another gun from his belt, holstered it, and tied thin leather thongs from the holster’s tip around his leg. Then he took the first gun and reloaded it.
His features remained hard and cold as he pressed the weapon into her hand. “Don’t be afraid to use it. Follow your instincts. If MacGrath or someone you don’t know shows up and threatens you, wait until they’re closer than the cottonwood is, aim low, and squeeze the trigger. Don’t forget to cock the hammer first.”
“Where are you going?”
His fingers skimmed the hair at her temple as his eyes darkened. “If I’m not back in a half hour, get to Ginger or Cricket—either one—and ride to the house. Deacon may already be headed this way if he heard the rifle shot.”
She gripped his fingers that lay against her head. “Don’t go.”
His eyes grazed her mouth before he touched her lips with his own. “Do as I say. Please.” ~An Improper Proposal
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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September 7, 2020
God Has Seen the World Tilt Before
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
It’s suddenly September. Well, I guess it’s not exactly suddenly, but it sure feels that way.
Four weeks ago it was light at 6 a.m. in Colorado and the sun set just after 8 p.m.
Today, sunrise was at 6:34 a.m. and the sun will set at 7:19 p.m.
An hour less daylight compared to last month? What happened?
Well, it wasn’t an “overnight” occurrence similar to what people call the success of musicians, artists, and actors who “suddenly” skyrocket to fame. It was something closer to all the years of hard work those creatives put into their craft.
Here in the northern hemisphere, we’ve been losing a little daylight ever since the summer solstice on June 21. But in August we lose daylight at a faster pace – roughly two minutes every day, more than an hour by the end of the month.
There is no way I’m going to try to explain Earth’s tilt, rotation, orbit, etc., but if that sort of thing intrigues you, check out this Science and Technology page for Middle School designed by the Smithsonian Science Education Center.
My point to this drawn-out explanation is – sometimes things sneak up on us.
Or do they?
Were they really there all along, and we just didn’t pay attention?
Most of us have heard the expressions about watching paint dry and grass grow. Neither activity appears to be identifiable to the human eye, but both are measurable and, given enough time, noticeable.
It’s the same way with our spiritual growth – or starvation.
What we feed on – even if it’s in itty-bitty bites – becomes apparent over time. What we fill ourselves with eventually produces a type of fruit, whether fretful or peaceful.
The last several months in our world have seen nations, states, and communities stirred, and the ripples are unsettling to many. But unsettling times have come and gone before our days in the sunlight. And the encouraging thing to remember is, none of them caught God off guard.
We may not understand the mystery of His allowances, but we can count on the mastery of His presence.
Grab hold of Him. He’s there, so close to you that He usually whispers.
Feed on His promises. Read the comfort He has sent us in His word. The books of Psalms and Isaiah are two of my favorites.
And pray.
Pray for your families and loved ones, community leaders, and governmental representatives – whether you voted for them or not. Pray for yourself, incorporating some of the suggestions from last week’s blog post.
Lift up those who risk their lives protecting and rescuing us. Lift up a younger generation that has yet to discover (or remember) the power and presence of God.
And remember, God has seen the world “tilt” before.
He’s got this.
From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same
the LORD’S name is to be praised.
Psalm 113:3
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them,
for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Deuteronomy 31:6
~
God has seen the world tilt before.
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Daylight had ducked behind the buildings on the west side of the street, and shadows stretched along the jail, playing tricks on Bern’s eyes. Looked like a woman sat in Wilson’s chair out front of the jail. Asleep, with her chin on her chest.
He stopped his horse at the hitch rail and stepped down. Sure enough, she was sound asleep. More than likely been there all day waiting on him. Just like a woman to make him feel guilty before they even spoke to each other. He pulled his hat off and stepped up on the boardwalk with a heavy boot in hopes he didn’t have to touch her to rouse her.
She obliged him and shot up like a geyser, blinking her brown eyes and tugging at her suit coat. Stark black, the same color as the hat that leaned off to one side. She tried to straighten it and winced, probably from a stiff neck. He knew the feeling.
“Ma’am. Are you Etta Collier from Independence, Missouri?”
She squared up and looked him dead in the eye. “Yes, sir. And you are …?”
Pretty little thing, she was, all trim and put together. No shrinking violet. But appearances could be deceiving.
“I’m Bern Stidham, ma’am. Sheriff over in Lockton, a day’s ride north of here. I apologize for not meeting your train, but a few things came up at the last minute. I’d planned to take a room at the hotel last night and be here to meet you this morning.” He was rambling.
She discreetly gave him a good look-over, hat to boots and back again, pausing at the Peacemaker on his right hip. He wished he’d shaved. ~Mail-order Misfire
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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August 31, 2020
My Prayers Are Changing
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
I believe few would argue that this metaphorical year of perfect “2020” vision has been anything but.
Yet the Lord is still my Shepherd.
In spite of all the misunderstanding, miscommunication, and misguidedness (Is that even a word?) going on around me, the stream of God’s “God-ness” remains. His presence continues to flow beneath and through my life if I let it.
Sometimes I get in the way and clog the channel with worry and stress and strife.
Peace becomes a highly sought-after and rarely found commodity – in greater demand and shorter supply than toilet paper and hand sanitizer ever were.
This shifting of priorities has shifted my prayers. Simplified them, slowed them from frantic requests to thoughtful consideration.
My prayers are changing, and I frequently find a simple trinity of thought rising from my heart. Maybe it’s a sign for me. An indicator of what matters most – or should – if I allow it.
Beyond thanking Him for all He provides, I pray …
Lord, give me eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart to understand.
Lord, make me bold with strength in my soul.
Lord, may I be swift to hear, slow to speak, and slow to wrath.
I share these considerations with you this morning, hoping they will usher peace into your life as they have in mine. And perhaps you will find your own simpler prayers resulting in His peace that passes understanding.
~
God's 'God-ness' remains.
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Free!Peeking through her curtains, Gracie let loose a whisper. “Oh Lord, I pray this ain’t lying I’m about to do, but my papa needs a tie that binds his heart up. It’s been hurting for such a long time.”
She smoothed her pillow and quilt, then took all her nine years of knowledge to the kitchen and made biscuits for supper, confident that the Lord heard her prayer. She’d been taught to believe such things since before she could remember. Why, just yesterday the preacher’s words had stirred through her heart, telling her to have faith, to trust God. And she believed those words.
Especially since the preacher was her papa. ~ Mail-order Misfire
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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August 24, 2020
Resurrection Stories Always Begin in Death
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Just because we are believers doesn’t mean we won’t experience loss and pain. It doesn’t mean that sometimes we won’t have all the answers.
But it does mean that we aren’t alone.
Andy Squyres is a songwriter who grabbed my attention in an interview about one of his songs, “Cherry Blossoms.” (*see links below).
“Resurrection stories always begin in death,” he said.
Wow.
I took a deep breath and thought, “Well, of course. Right?”
His comment seemed obvious, but I’d never thought of it quite that brutally because I always wanted to jump over the pain and go straight to the resurrection. I wanted to skip the getting-dead part.
But that’s not how it works, and Andy was right. There is no resurrection without death.
As an author, I work with death in my stories. There is typically some form of death, whether metaphorical or literal. It can be the death of a loved one or the death of a dream. The death of hopes, plans, or goals. The death of wrong ideas.
The story key is bringing life back in a new dream, a new hope, a different set of ideas and a stronger grip on faith.
In my everyday life, I don’t get to script the scene. When things go horribly wrong and there are no words but only tears, I weep at the feet of Jesus.
I pour out my heart.
And I can sense His presence in His promise. Feel His breath on my hair.
So what do we say when it all goes wrong?
In the aftermath of tragedy through the birth of a song, Andy Squyres said, “The message of the gospel broke through our sadness.”
That message is what Jesus gave a grieving sister when her brother Lazarus died:
I am the resurrection and the life.
He who believes in me will live even though he dies;
and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.
John 11:25-26
Thank God, I have found that to be true.
Thank God.
~
What do we say when it all goes wrong?
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Aware that he was clearly lit by the setting sun, Clay held steady and watched the rider approach. When she rode through the shadow cast by the house, he saw it was Sophie. She looked right at him, like she had at the train station and at church that morning, but instead of stopping, she rode on by and dismounted at the hitch rail.
If his memory served him, that was the same old nag she’d been riding earlier, as well as the first time they met four years ago, and it was just as worn out now as it had been then.
She came around the back of the horse, her left arm curving over its rump, and kept walking toward him until she stopped a couple yards out.
“Hello, Clay.”
Her voice came weary, heavy. Like she’d worked all day plowing a field, but he knew better.
“Sophie. It’s good to see you.” A regular speech-giver he was.
She took a step closer and tipped her head, as if to see better in the fading light. “Are you staying here at Maggie’s?”
“No, I just stopped by to look in on her and ended up staying for dinner and—”
“Look in on her?” Another step. “Is she all right?”
Sophie’s brows worried themselves together, and he fought the urge to smooth them. Brush the loose hair from her temples. Hold her.
He rolled down his sleeves to give his fingers something to do other than what they shouldn’t. “She was resting earlier. I’ve been out here most of the day checking on her mare and tending to the barn. I don’t know if she’s up and around.”
Sophie’s frown eased on its own and she let out a tired sigh.
“Are you staying here?” Depending on her answer, he might take Garrett up on his offer. Then again, that’d be a bad idea.
“Yes. For a day or so. I was in town helping Mrs. Eisner who …”
Her voice trailed off and she looked past him to the pasture, dark now and quiet, and a ragged whisper finished her sentence. “She was with child. Until today after church.”
That was an odd way to put it.
Her breath stuttered and a shaft of falling light caught a single tear trailing her right cheek.
Unchecked pain cut through him, and against his better judgment he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her. She melted into him as if she had no bones. No strength. A wrenching sob broke loose, and he cradled her head against his chest. ~An Impossible Price
*Andy Squyres interview.
*Cherry Blossom song.
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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August 10, 2020
You Are What You Eat
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
When I was growing up, my mother used to tell me, “You are what you eat.” The phrase seemed silly to me at the time, but I learned that when I ate healthy foods, I became healthier and stronger. When I ate junk food, I was lethargic and listless.
Over the years I found the same “transfer” to occur in the entertainment foods I ingested, whether books, movies, or television programs. I tended to think, speak, and act like what I steadily consumed.
In computer-speak, I believe the phrase is, “garbage in – garbage out.”
If this concept is indeed true, then what I “feed” my mind and spirit is as important a choice as what I feed my body.
A short New Testament book called Philippians gives me a pretty good grocery list. I especially like The Message version:
Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by
filling your minds and meditating on things
true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—
the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly;
things to praise, not things to curse. … Do that, and God,
who makes everything work together, will work you into
his most excellent harmonies
(Phil. 4:8,9 MSG).
We have quite a social smorgasbord from which to choose these days. Let’s choose wisely.
~
You are what you eat.
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Etta returned her attention to the tables along the wall, looking for spots to place what she’d brought. On either side of the colorful arrangement, women had set the food in specific groupings. Platters of sliced turkey, ham, duck, chicken, and quail anchored one end, with side dishes and breads leading the way toward pies, cakes, puddings, and cookies at the opposite end. The bounty was overwhelming in light of the small community from which it sprang.
After squeezing her pies, bread, and dressing into appropriate sections, she noticed Bern visiting with a new couple near the door. She didn’t recognize them, but as they spoke, Bern glanced her way and then back again quickly, as if he didn’t want her to see him. The curious act gave her pause, but she tucked her baskets beneath the long cloths of the food tables and went in search of Gracie. ~Mail-order Misfire
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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August 3, 2020
By Handling the Truth You Catch the Lie
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
In a recent Bible-study discussion on the inward change of a person’s nature, the participants were directed to 2 Corinthians 3:18 –
“But we all, with unveiled face,
beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord,
are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory,
just as by the Spirit of the Lord.”
This passage from 2 Corinthians seems to tell me that I am transformed by looking at the Lord, focusing on Him. As I do my part of “beholding” Jesus, God’s spirit works the miracle of change in me.
So how do I know if I’m looking at the real “image” rather than a knock-off copy, painting, or counterfeit? By learning the truth of who Christ is as presented in the Word of God.
Years ago I learned that bank tellers were trained to detect counterfeit bills by handling real money. They looked at and handled only the real deal. Thus, their familiarity with the authentic alerted them to the counterfeit.
This illustration came full circle for me when one of the recent Bible-study participants turned out to be a former bank teller who confirmed what I had heard.
“By handling the truth, you catch the lie,” she said. “You don’t even have to look at the counterfeit. You can feel it.”
Can we say then, that on a spiritual level, we become like that upon which we focus?
When we become so familiar with our Lord by spending time in His word and in prayer, listening for His voice, we will more easily detect counterfeit “truths” offered by the world. Our part is to make the effort to learn the Lord. His part is to make the change in us by His spirit.
~
For more references on God’s image see: Col. 3:10; Romans 8:29; 2 Cor. 4:4; Gen. 1:26, 27
By handling the truth you catch the lie.
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Taking one of his rough, sun-browned hands, she held it to her lips, then pressed it against her heart, and looked into his dear face. “Everything is perfectly all right,” she said, watching as he read her eyes, finding truth within them, and finally relaxing.
“Then why are you crying?”
Of course a man would not understand a woman’s emotions at all times, especially when they appeared to contradict and fluctuate as hers did so frequently these recent days. But she would try to help him. She would always try.
“Because, my dear husband, His mercies are new every morning.” ~An Impossible Price
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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July 27, 2020
Who Are You Trusting?
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
It was late July and the land of the Nez Perce beckoned from across the Bitterroot Range.
Following a string of Montana rodeos, we charted our way across northern Idaho and into Washington. At Clarkston, two routes led to our destination: a long way around through Pendleton with a backtrack on Interstate 84, or a thin highway that shot straight south to Joseph, Oregon—home of the Chief Joseph Days Rodeo.
Loggers and locals called the shorter way “Rattlesnake Grade.” Not to be intimidated by its reptilian reputation, we turned left.
Our rig at the time was an 11½-foot camper on a 1-ton pickup, and a two-horse trailer. In those days before seatbelts, we filled the backseat with a padded bed for Jake who would celebrate his first birthday in Joseph.
With the summertime optimism of a rodeo family, we pointed the pickup south and for a few scenery-rich miles, hugged the Snake River Canyon between Idaho and Washington. Just past Asotin the Snake slithered away and we drove on through gentle fields of golden wheat. On the atlas, the next town, Anatone, lay only 17 miles from the Oregon state line, but the little highway rippled before the border, once on each side of the Grande Ronde River. And I began to wonder.
By the time we realized what lay ahead (or below) it was too late. Few turnouts swelled from the twisting, two-lane roadway, none safe enough to turn our rig around. Accepting the cost of commitment, Mike geared down, babied the brakes and I started praying like I’d never prayed before.
Every oncoming log truck and RV took my breath away as we slid down the mountain on the back of the asphalt sidewinder. No railings—just a sheer drop to the river below.
Halfway down I looked away from the canyon on my right to the men I held dear. Jake was leaning up against the seatback with his head on Mike’s shoulder and his thumb in his mouth—the perfect little picture of peace. He was totally confident that his daddy would get us safely down the road and on to the next rodeo. Jake wasn’t looking over the edge like his mother; he was simply enjoying the ride, unaware of the danger and relying on his dad to do the job at hand.
I envied my son at that moment. He was totally clueless and unafraid. Ignorance really is bliss, I thought. Or was it?
Jake demonstrated child-like faith, not ignorance. It didn’t matter that he didn’t understand the dangers, because he trusted his father. He trusted Mike the way my heavenly father wanted me to trust Him: completely.
We cranked our way up and out of the river valley and pulled into the Joseph fairgrounds later that day. A rodeo committeeman met us and welcomed us to Chief Joseph Days, happy that the rodeo clown and his family had made it, not only on time, but early. Was there anything he could get for us, he asked.
“Yes, there is,” my husband said stoically. “A helicopter out of here after the rodeo.”
The man laughed, guessing correctly that we had just come in over Rattlesnake Grade. He assured us that even though the road to Pendleton was longer, it was a quicker way out of the area.
And he was right.
Thank you, Father, for getting me where I need to be—even when the road is frightful.
Some trust in chariots and some in horses,
but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.
Psalm 20:7 NIV
~
Main Street gave Clay cause to look to the sides of the road when he was really looking at Sophie. She’d done her hair up with a ribbon, and it was all soft around her face. If she were a filly or a heifer, he’d know just what to say about her fine appearance. As it was, uncertainty kept him lock-jawed for fear of saying the wrong thing. She hadn’t been too pleased earlier when he said she looked different. Even beautiful had driven doubt through her eyes.
He could handle a cantankerous old pig farmer but didn’t know what to say to the woman he’d set his hopes on.
The road out of town stretched lazily until they reached the turn off that ribboned over grass-covered hills. Recognizing the low saddle ahead, he slowed the gray.
Sophie took it all in, turning on the bench and scouting the land like she was looking for something. When he stopped short of the saddle, her brow wrinkled.
“Is this it?”
“Not quite.”
“Then why did you stop?”
Because I want to kiss you and ask if you’ll marry me. “I want you to get the full effect of what’s on the other side.”
She snugged her shawl tighter and fingered the neckline of her dress. A very becoming neckline. “I’m ready.”
He lifted the reins. The gray took the cue and eased over the dip between two hills.
Sophie gasped, and Clay stopped again, relieved that it all hadn’t been a fanciful dream. ~An Impossible Price
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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July 20, 2020
Enlarge My Heart
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
“I will run in the course of Your commandments,
for You shall enlarge my heart”
(Psalm 119:32).
This verse was listed in my morning reading one day last week and left me wondering what it meant for God to enlarge my heart.
I know people often complement a generous or compassionate person by saying he or she has a “big heart.” But that is a metaphorical phrase directed toward someone’s character.
Is that what the Psalmist meant when he wrote of the Lord, “You shall enlarge my heart”?
I suspected there was more to it than that.
Because of my exposure to the thoroughbred racing industry through my husband’s chaplaincy tenure at Arkansas’s Oak Lawn Park in the late 1980s, I’d learned a little about race horses and the tendency of many to have enlarged hearts. Famed 1973 Triple Crown winner, Secretariat, came to mind.
Those in the know say he had an exceptionally large heart.
The average weight of a horse’s heart is about 8.5 pounds, but race horses often carry a larger muscle that propels them down the raceway. Centuries of tradition have dictated that only the head, heart, and hooves of great race horses are buried, but upon Secretariat’s death in 1989, he was buried whole and intact with honor at Kentucky’s Claiborne Farm.
Head pathologist at the University of Kentucky, Dr. Thomas Swerszek, performed the necropsy.
“We just stood there in stunned silence,” Swerszek said. “We couldn’t believe it. The heart was perfect. There were no problems with it. It was just this huge engine.”
Swerszek did not weigh Secretariat’s heart, but in 1993 he weighed the heart of another great race horse, Sham, and found it to weigh 18 pounds. It was smaller than Secretariat’s, and Swerszek, who had worked on both horses, then estimated Secretariat’s heart to have been close to 22 pounds.
“The heart was what made him able to do what he did,” Swerczek said of Secretariat.
As with great race horses and their physical hearts, could our metaphorical spiritual hearts play a role in our efforts at “running the course” of God’s commands? Walking – or running – in His ways is not something we can do on our own strength, so we need God to enlarge our hearts.
The Apostle Paul alluded to the endurance necessary to live a Christian life when he said, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”
Racing isn’t easy, whether we are running, swimming, or riding. It requires training, strength, and tenacity – all traits equally necessary for our spiritual race as well.
I’m grateful to know that I’m not in this race of life on my own, with merely my own skill to rely on. I wouldn’t make it. But with God enlarging my heart by His Holy Spirit, the finish line is reachable.
~
Watch Secretariat secure the 1973 Triple Crown title as he wins the mile-and-a-half Belmont Stakes by at least 25 lengths.
Photo: Unidentified horse and rider in a foggy morning workout at Oaklawn Park Race Track, Hot Springs, AR, 1984.
You will enlarge my heart.
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The lathered stallion blew and struck, head high, eyes wide and wild. Fear and pain were a volatile mix, Clay well knew. Who in their right mind would send a hot-blooded horse like this on a train without a handler?
A crewman came up the ramp and quickly led two horses out. Clay untied a half dozen more, looped their leads around their necks, and slapped them toward the door. After pulling his hat off, he dragged his sleeve across his forehead, then screwed the hat down hard. He had to come at the horse from the side—not unseen, but not straight on either. Setting his voice at a low, easy tone, he stepped away from the wall and eased toward the stallion.
If he survived, he might be the worse for wear. If he didn’t, at least he’d die doing what he loved. ~An Impossible Price
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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July 13, 2020
Drawing Blood on Social Media
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
“Inspirational romance—isn’t that an oxymoron?” A secular, general-market author fired the question at me during a family-related social gathering.
“No, you moron. It isn’t.”
I’d like to say the above response to the question is from a salty character in one of my novels, but it’s not. It’s from a pile of words in the back of my brain that didn’t make it past my teeth because I was biting my tongue for the sake of my daughter who was the reason for the gathering.
Thankfully, the assault on my chosen occupation of inspirational romance novelist did not come across social media, but rather, face to face. It’s easier to bite my tongue than my fingers when they’re flying over a keyboard.
Restraint is a common courtesy that is no longer common. It has fallen out of favor and given way to virtual blood-letting. The courtesy shortage appears to be most prevalent on social media where vitriolic viruses run rampant.
Have you noticed?
The other author’s mockery over a plate of hors d’oeuvres that evening stirred me to defend myself and my work. However, defensiveness is not attractive. And isn’t my job as a Christian fiction writer to attract people to the gospel?
How I accomplish that attraction varies from situation to situation. In the company of my family, a quick and simple explanation proved more appropriate than a tirade or sermonette.
But what if the conversation had taken place via the anonymity of social media? The other author on that important evening assumed that inspirational or godly ideas and morals cannot coexist with romance—that the two concepts oppose one another, as in sharp and dull in accordance with the Greek definition of oxymoron. His assumption revealed what he thought he knew about romance and what he didn’t know about God.
Had we been online discussing the merits of Christian fiction, how easy it would have been to post a personal potshot rather than de-escalate the mounting tension.
There will always be people who disagree with my chosen career field, moral opinions, and life-style ideas. A better writer than I encouraged believers to live wisely among nonbelievers, and to keep conversations gracious and well-seasoned.
God help me stand for what I believe without tripping over my own cutting comebacks. Hopefully, I will leave a good taste in people’s mouths after they visit with me—whether online or face-to-face—and leave the biting replies with my molars.
Let your conversation be gracious and attractive
so that you will have the right response for everyone.
Colossians 4:6 NLT
~
Common courtesy is no longer common.
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Clay wanted nothing more than to feed Clarence Thatcher his teeth—julienned—but the man had been conveniently absent from the hotel when Clay went back for his clothes and saddle bags. The desk clerk returned half his money, more than expected, and Clay took the road east for the Hickman farm and a maiden mare.
This was where his and Sophie’s work overlapped—assisting life into the world. His fingers tightened on the reins. He’d like to assist a certain hotel owner out, but taking life was not what he did. In spite of what his father had told him. ~An Impossible Price
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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(c) 2020 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance
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