So I wrote a book.

A novel, actually.  I haven’t talked about this with a lot of people, so you probably had no idea.  I’m not sure why I haven’t spoken about it more often – I really only talk about it much with Susan, my parents, and occasionally a friend.  I think it’s because as a “wannabe-writer”, it’s always a little awkward to discuss.  Not the kind of thing I bring up at parties or in casual conversation.  I think there’s a difference between having an idea for a book, and being able to actually, you know, write.  And I’ve often felt stuck somewhere between those two places.  A lot of people have an idea for a book.  A very few actually complete it.  And a small percentage of those who complete it see it in print.  (unless it’s out of their Canon InkJet)

Well, my book is not published…yet.  And man, do I ever not want to jinx myself by putting this in print.  But since I’ve decided I don’t believe in jinxes…

Right now there’s a decent chance it might get published.

By ‘decent’, I mean that a publisher has the manuscript, has had it for almost 8 months, and hasn’t said NO yet.  Now, they haven’t said ‘yes’ either, and I’m certainly aware that at any moment they could turn it down, that every part of a publisher’s process is designed to tell the writer no, and that it’s easier for them to say no than yes.  But it’s still alive.  And honestly, that’s more than I can say I expected.

You should also know that it’s not my first novel.  It’s actually my fifth.  Five fully-completed manuscripts written over the last ten years.  I’ll spare you the details, but one had a slight chance, while the rest were misfires.  I like to think of them as practice.  (At least, that’s my justification for the ridiculous amount of time it took to finish each one)  Let’s just say Susan is anincredibly patient, supportive wife.  I’ve had the inclination every once in awhile to write something non-fiction, but the truth is I just love stories.

If you’re interested, here’s a little bit about the book, and the process that got me from there to here – from the idea to the last chapter written.  The summer of 2009 was a tough one for the Laws.  Susan was dealing with a recurrence of breast cancer, and we were in the process of shutting down the church we’d poured our hearts and lives into for the last five years.  Not a banner year.  Anyway, at about that same time, I had an idea for a story that I wanted to write, primarily for my kids.  (An aside – for whatever reason I have had good seasons of writing when I’m going through frustrating times in other areas of life – that sounds like good psychiatrist-chair fodder some day)

So I began to develop a story about a normal thirteen-year old boy who discovers that he is not so normal after all.  After he begins to develop certain powers, like super-human strength, he discovers that he’s really only three/fourths human.  He’s one quarter angel.  When he discovers that the Evil One himself, Abaddon, has kidnapped his mom as part of a plot to rule humankind, getting cut from school basketball tryouts because he’s too short becomes the least of his concerns.  The novel is about his quest to retrieve his mom, and how in the process he discovers that there is a spiritual world behind what can be seen.  And that there is a battle raging between good and evil.

It took about 3 1/2 months to do the actual writing.  In February I reached out to someone I’d met a few years back, a terrific author in Charlotte.  He graciously agreed to look at some of my work, and then was willing to contact his publisher on my behalf.  This was absolutely huge.  It is so hard to break in – having tried off and on for 10 years, I know.  The publisher read a sample, asked me to rewrite it, and eventually requested the whole thing.

There’s a lot more I could tell you, but that’s enough for now.  Guess I just felt like sharing.  I’m still waiting, which is half-exciting, half-insanity inducing.  I’m excited about the message in the book, and about the possibilities it holds.

The main thing is, though, that my kids loved it.  Anything else is gravy.

It is different the second, third, or twelfth time through, for sure.  The first time you read a book, you don’t know what is going to happen on the next page, let alone, the end.  That’s the fun of reading something for the first time.  But in some of the greatest stories, like Tolkien’s masterpiece, there is something comforting and even energizing about knowing how it will finish up.  You, the Reader, are going on a journey once again with the author and his characters.  And knowing the ending somehow enhances the experience.  I know that Good is going to triumph over Evil in this tale, but I still get caught up with Frodo and Sam as they carry the ring into the ever-increasing darkness.  I still feel their terror as they are hunted by Eye and the wicked horde from Mordor.  And my anticipation still builds as I walk with them, knowing all along that in the end, in a death-defying feat of bravery and courage, deep inside a mountain, Evil will forever be defeated.

There is a beautiful thing about the Scriptures and it is this – it speaks to us about the future.  About our future, our place with God in it.  It is a reminder that when things are difficult, when there is pain, darkness, and all kinds of craziness around us, that these problems are only temporary.  That cancer, sickness, and disease don’t last forever.  People will be cruel and mean to others, yes, but their day of judgment is coming.  There will be hatred, bullying, divorce, slander, and even murder.  But their days are numbered.

There’s a song by the great songwriter Ben Shive called “A Last Time for Everything”.  He sings about this, that there will come a day when every one of those evil things will die.  There will be a last child to starve to death, a last tear to fall, a last murder, a last victim, a last awful word.  All these things are temporary.

I know the end of the story, you see.  I’ve read ahead, I’ve seen what the Scriptures say, and I believe them to be true.  That the hateful evil of this world will pass away.  The end of the story goes like this (to borrow from a sticker a friend of mine slapped onto his bulletin board):

LOVE WINS.

That’s the headline.  The God of love will win this battle.  The days of evil running rampant are limited.  Even though we don’t see it, because we are caught up in the day-in and day-out struggle of life, we can know this.  We can live with this truth settling us deep in our bellies.  We can step back and read the pages of God’s words to us and know that He can see into the future.  He lives there, as much as He lives here with us now.  That the One who cares for us in this very moment has plans and dreams for us in the future that we haven’t even considered yet.  That we wouldn’t dare dream of.

Jonah, Eliza, and Jeremiah, the kids I write about in the Son of Angels series, become aware of this along the way, although they often struggle to see it, just like we do.

But how great is it to be able to be a part of this story, knowing how it’s going to conclude?  We may not know what the next chapter will be about, but we do know how things are going to end.

Which is a very, very comforting thought as I walk along the twisted, winding path God has put in front of me.

One day, probably not too much further down the road, I will be able to see, with both of my eyes wide-open and clear, that the God of love will triumph over all things.  And the path of trouble for each of us will become an old, distant memory as we move into the fullness of life with Him.

It’s been way too long since I’ve written.  Just a note to say how excited I am about the upcoming launch of Fire Prophet – book 2 in the Son of Angels series!  It’s felt like a long time coming…especially since it was over a year ago that Walmart began carrying Spirit Fighter.  Fire Prophet will not be available there (there’s a good possibility they will be carrying the third in the series), but it will be available in lots of bookstores and online.  You can pre-order it now via Amazon, and soon I’ll have a button on the site where you can purchase it directly here.

Mainly, I can’t wait to hear what you think of the story.  Jonah, Eliza, and Jeremiah are growing up, and there are lots of surprises in store for them.  They discover, for one, that they aren’t the only part-angel quarterlings in the world.  There are others, with similar gifts and abilities.  Soon, though, they also discover that they are all under attack.  And that the key to their survival lies in a finding a mysterious prophet.  Can Jonah and his friends find her before Abaddon and his evil horde destroy all of the quarterlings and their families?

Fire Prophet releases officially on Dec. 8.  We have some fun things in store for the launch – one of which will happen at our local LifeWay store that day!  More on that soon…

This is one of the biggest spiritual realities in life.  We need each other to make life work.  We are dooming ourselves to failure when we try to do it alone.  We are made to be in connection, in community, with one another.

Nowhere is this more true than when we face spiritual battles around us.  If it’s true that God made us for community and relationship, it is equally true that Satan will do whatever he can to convince us that it is better, more noble, and easier, to go it alone.

A few days ago, it was clear that my ten-year old son was getting sick.  He wasn’t eating as much and his stomach was bothering him.  I had already put him to bed for the night, hoping he would get a good night’s rest and feel like going to school the next morning.  But not long after I tucked him in, he came downstairs.  It was clear that he was feeling even worse.  He looked pale, and from feeling his forehead it was obvious that he had a fever.  What was worse, his stomach was doing somersaults, and at that point, I knew where we were headed.  And as a single parent, there was no one else I could pass this off on.

I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to get into the details of his illness, but let’s just say he lost most of the contents of his stomach that evening, and on into the night.  If you are a parent, you know that these are not the most rewarding moments of your parenting life.  But taking care of a sick kid is just what you do – part of the job description, so to speak.  So I was there, offering him a cup of water, a cold washcloth, and a thermometer.   I was there for him, to give him some comfort, and let him know he was not alone.  It’s not a heroic act – it’s just what families do for each other.

Whether we are fighting physical battles like illness, or preparing ourselves for battles that will take their toll emotionally and spiritually, this is a profound truth – we need each other.  Why do you think Jesus sent the disciples out in pairs?  So that one could support the other when the ministry conflict got too overwhelming.  So that one could pray for the other in times of distress.  Because Jesus knew there was power in community.

In my middle grade action/adventure fiction novel Spirit Fighter, Jonah discovers that he needs others to help him.  Even though he and his sister have not always seen eye-to-eye, he realizes that if they are going to rescue their mother from the evil clutches of Abaddon and his evil horde, they will have to do it by relying on each other.

Just last night, I began to feel lousy.  I wasn’t hungry, I felt tired, and my stomach was upset.  My son had gotten over his sickness, but apparently he had passed it on to me.  Ugh…I knew what was coming.

Like my son, I ended up on the floor in the bathroom, with a regretfully-empty stomach.  As I sat alone on the cold hardwood, trying to regain control, I heard a light rap on the door.  At first I ignored it, but it came again, and I finally stood up on wobbly legs to see which child needed what.  (Parenting never stops.)  But there stood my ten-year old son, with a cup of cold water in hand, asking if I was okay.  I couldn’t help but smile at him as I took it, and he proceeded to find the thermometer, rinse it off in the sink, and pop it in my mouth.

Taking care of each other.  Living life together.   Walking with one another through difficult things.  That is what family does.  Both in our blood families, and with our spiritual brothers and sisters, all around us.

This article also appears in the September issue of Christian Online Fiction Magazine.

Spirit Fighter Recon:  Tips from the field for helping kids fight the spiritual battle

1.    An invisible, spiritual realm exists.

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”  -Ephesians 6:12, NIV

As I sat down outside my favorite local coffee shop with a spiral notebook in hand, ready to jot down some notes and outline this blog entry (yes, I still use what I believe they used to call ‘pen and paper’ occasionally), a gust of wind scuttled through the patio, which was fitted in the narrow space between two brick buildings.  It almost blew the notebook off the metal table, and my drink onto the pavement.  I slapped my hand down on the pages quickly, and rescued my precious beverage from almost-certain peril, and was reminded once again of the reality that compels me to write:

There is an invisible world that exists, and in that world, a battle is raging.

My book, Spirit Fighter, is about this one enormous idea – that life is about more than just what we see.  That there is a world, behind the world, as if you could reach out your hand and poke a hole in the landscape in front of you, peel it back, and expose this invisible land.

If this sounds a little out there, consider this – it is impossible to read the Scriptures and come away with a different understanding of the world than this.  The Bible is full of wonderful stories about how life is about more than what we can see with our eyes, and touch with our hands.  Full of stories about an invisible God making Himself known to us.

And yet, we – and our kids – tend to live as if all that exists is what is right in front of us.  Often we give little thought to the place where the important, life-changing things are happening.

In Spirit Fighter lingo, this place is called the Hidden Realm.

Jonah and Eliza, being part angel, are able to physically see this place, even enter into it – and with amazement and horror, their eyes are opened to the battle raging.

We don’t have this ability (we would jump at the chance to have it, but I’m doubtful as to whether we’d really like it) – but we do have the capacity to sense it.  It’s like the wind.  We can’t see it, but there are times when we can feel its presence.  We can feel it rushing around us.  These are the times in life when we are overwhelmed with the sense that there is something more.  More to life.  More that hangs in the balance.  It often whispers in our ear, “Your heart is right, there really is more to all of this.”

Jesus confirms the existence of this spiritual world, over and over again.  In fact, he speaks with the authority of One who has been there and seen it.

In short, He has perspective.

My goal with Spirit Fighter – and with this post, and those that follow – is to challenge you to have a new perspective.  To adopt the view that says that 90% of life is actually being played out behind the scenes.  And because of this, even the little things in our lives matter.  Decisions we make can impact not only this world, but the other.

And by the way, if this is true, which world is more real, anyway?  The one we can see, smell, and touch, or the spiritual realm?  Does that sound like an idea right out of the movie The Matrix?  Not really.  It’s a much older concept, gleaned from the pages of the Scriptures themselves.

Which world are you living in?  Are you living in light of the reality of the Hidden Realm, or only in what you can see with your eyes?  Do your kids know that a spiritual world exists?  If you’ve neglected it, consider the possibility that the most important things happening in your life just might be invisible right now.

And for those of you who find your hearts longing more and more for this world Jesus spoke of, know that one day, you too will be able to look behind the curtain, and really see.

 “There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known.”

-Jesus, in Matthew 10:26, NIV

Joy Recovered

             I am driving to a counseling appointment one day in the spring, reflecting on the chaos of my life, and wondering what I am going to share today with Roger.  How to sum up the collective mess my life has become.

            Roger has a picture on the wall of his counseling office.  It’s of a boat in a raging sea.  In this boat are several panicking disciples.  Wondering if their boat is going to capsize, thinking they are likely dead, doing everything they could do to see the ship through the storm. 

            Jesus is in that boat too, sleeping away.

            Finally they wake him, begging him to do something.  Jesus sits up, stretches his arms, and promptly tells the storm to stop.

             As I drive and my mind wanders, I see two scenes from another boat.  In the first, my wife Susan, our three kids, and I, are cruising along in a boat, on a perfect, sun-filled day.  We are laughing, playing, enjoying each other.  We are together.

            In the next image, the boat is no more.  The only evidence of it, in fact, is a few stray pieces, floating in chaotic waters.  I am holding onto a piece of wreckage, frantically looking for the rest of my family.  I see the kids, and I help them grab onto other pieces of broken wood.

            “Susan!”

            My eyes dart across the surface of the water as I call out, searching for her.  But she’s nowhere to be found.  She is gone.

            One minute she was there, and the next, she disappeared.  While the rest of us hold on for dear life.     

            In my mind at the time, I think about the two distinct pictures.  Jesus on the boat, and the boat of our life, floating in pieces.  How do they relate?  Jesus says he can calm the storm. 

But I just want to know if he can put our boat back together.

–Journal Entry, June 2011

My immediate reaction to writing this article is that I want to re-title it to something like “Joy Recover-ING”.  “Recovered” sounds like the end of a destination – and I am still very much on a journey.  There are days where joy is there, and I feel it bursting inside me, like a spark has been set to crumpled newspaper, in turn lighting the kindling, yellow flames licking the wood, beginning to ignite.  Causing the dry old wood in this heart to glow once again.

Other days – many other days, if I’m honest – the process of recovering joy is more like grasping at wisps of smoke.

The process…this is what it is for me.  A journey I am taking, meandering along a curvy, sometimes treacherous road, unable to see too far ahead.  Let me be clear – I didn’t choose to be on this road trip.  I wasn’t planning on making a journey at all.  I found myself on this road one day, looking behind me and then ahead, and then back again, slightly dazed, wondering how I got here.

My wife of fifteen years, Susan, died on January 1, 2011.  She battled breast cancer for three years with equal amounts of courage and grace.  In the end, the awful disease had taken its toll, and she couldn’t overcome it.  And in those final moments, it seemed as though half of me disappeared with her.

Our daughter, who is now twelve, and our two boys, ten and seven, are learning to live a new life.  One they didn’t choose either.  How do you live without a mother to hold you, hug you, encourage and advise?  There are days where this question wrecks me.

And yet…they do.  Often to my total amazement, they arise every day, and laugh, and play, and work, and read, and go to school, and play piano, and…live.

Susan kept a blog during the last two years of her life.  In one of her entries, the day after receiving word that what we feared had come true – she indeed had a recurrence of the cancer – she wrote words inspired by Psalm 30, which gives us this amazing phrase…”joy comes in the morning”.  She wrote of how, as she awoke that day, the day after devastating news, her joy had been renewed.

This too, to my utter amazement.

I don’t understand joy.  I can’t speak in this article to “how to attain it”, “eight easy steps to finding joy”, or “how to name and claim the joy that is rightfully yours”.  You’ve perhaps seen those articles, or know those books.  What I can tell you is that somehow, in some way, it comes.  Out of pain, hope.  Out of death, life.  It came to my wife when she knew she was probably going to die.  It comes to my children when all logic would say that there is no reason for it.

It comes to me.  In the most unlikely of places.

The kids attended a camp this spring in Virginia for kids who have lost someone significant in their lives.  Most of these kids have lost a mother or a father, to illness or some other awful tragedy.  150 stories of unimaginable pain and hurt gathered together one glorious spring weekend.  150 examples of a world gone wrong.  150 stories of loss that would cause you to weep if you sat down with each one face-to-face and just listened.

Into this craziness I drop my kids off.  Is this a good idea?  How can this possibly go well? I think to myself as I drive back out of the dusty gravel road.

But they spend the weekend together, zip-lining, canoeing, and campfires, interspersed with meaningful small group sessions led by counselors pouring themselves selflessly into these children.  They forge bonds with others who have lost.  It’s like a secret club, of sorts.  The one that no one wanted to join, and yet, now that they’re here…it is powerful.  And somehow, despite everything stacked against them, there is something else that emerges.  Something quite unexpected.

Joy.

Loved ones are invited to the final session, a camp memorial service, led by the kids, for the one they have lost.  They get up and play a song or read a poem or share something they did with their mom or dad or sibling.  One of my sons, to my surprise, is called forward.  He’s a rough, tough seven-year old boy.  He speaks softly into the microphone.  “This is what my mommy and I used to do together.”  In his hands he holds a basketball, and he begins to dribble, in front of 200 utterly silent people.

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

This is a holy moment.

As he is about to finish, someone whoops and begins to clap.  Others join in, shouting his name.  A huge grin crosses his face, and soon the entire camp hall is raucously cheering for this boy, and in those cheers telling him “We love you!” and “Your mom is incredible!” and “You are never alone!” and “You’re going to make it!”

And in me, tears and joy.  Tears and joy.  These two things aren’t as far apart as we think, you know.

Another boy gets up and dances.  Hilariously, to some hip-hop song.  And he is really, really good.  Everyone thinks the same thing – his dad must have been a great dancer.  The crowd goes wild.

More tears.  Even more joy.

Celebrating what was still there, the things that cannot be lost.

Pete, the camp director, gets up and says something wise beyond his years.  “What people don’t understand about grief,” he says, “is that within it there can be so much joy.”

As a pastor, I have spoken about joy many times.  Defined and redefined it, backed it up with Bible verses, ad nauseum.  Probably killing it while at the same time trying to explain it.  Death by dissection.

But as I see the faces of these kids who are brave enough to step boldly around the unknown corners of life; as I look into the faces of my own courageous kids, who dribble basketballs and grin in the face of death; as I think about how I have felt God’s grace and peace on long walks up Crowder’s Mountain alone, how His love and strength – (and sometimes, this oddly familiar feeling that I think I used to call excitement) – are returning to me, I’ve been reflecting on this thing called joy.

What I’ve decided is that maybe more than anything, joy is the ability to laugh in the face of utter defeat.  Michael Card, in a song about the difficult, painful relationship he had with his father, sings this –

“Our wounds are part of who we are, and there is nothing left to chance

And pain’s the pen that writes the songs, and they call us forth…to dance.”

My budding theory (untested, as of yet – ask me in 10 years) is that out of deep pain can come deeper, more profound joy.  Because those of us who have experienced shipwrecks in our lives, and are clinging to the pieces, those who have survived the journey to hell and back, have experienced a very, very important truth – that pain and sorrow are not forever.  They will not have the final word.  And to my amazement and God’s delight, He can take our despair, and use it to write a song in our hearts and our lives.

A song that calls us forth to dance.

“Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.”  Psalm 30:5 (NLT)

Jerel is senior pastor at Lake Norman Community Church, and author of the just-released tween action/adventure novel, “Spirit Fighter”.  He lives in Huntersville with his three children.

Another event that I’m still gathering details on is a book signing at LifeWay Christian Stores in Charlotte on a Saturday in May.  More details to come, but I’m excited to be able to partner with LifeWay.

One more thing – the general release date has been pushed to April 25.  No worries, they were doing some enhancements to the cover and it took them a little longer than expected.

“Law dreams up an exciting debut novel featuring seventh-grader Jonah Stone, who learns to his amazement that he, his younger sister Eliza, and little brother Jeremiah are quarterlings: one quarter angel. He is the offspring of a nephilim, a half-angel descended from a human and a fallen angel. Immediately after he learns that, angels, and trouble, fly. When the children’s nephilim mother, Eleanor, is kidnapped, Jonah and Eliza are tasked with finding her in New York, where, with the help of guardian angel Henry (who looks like a teenager), they face battles for their lives and souls. Law negotiates well the balance between using a biblical infrastructure and making it sleekly modern and appropriately fantastical. There’s lots of action, credibly repellent evil creatures, characters young readers can relate to, moral fiber, and the promise of more adventure in the Son of Angels: Jonah Stone series. Law’s young quarter-angels are off to a flying start. Ages 9-up. (Apr.)”

http://www.publishersweekly.com/978-1-4003-1843-8