This Little Prayer of Mine

This is a guest post by author Anthony DeStefano.

This Little Prayer of Mine—my very first children’s book—will be on bookshelves Feb. 16th.

My own little prayer right now is that children and their parents will respond to it the same way adult readers did to my first two books, A Travel Guide to Heaven, and Ten Prayers God Always Says Yes To. In those books, I tried to distill complex theological subjects and make them as simple and easy-to-understand as possible, without in any way compromising the theology. That’s basically the same thing I did in This Little Prayer of Mine. Adults who read this book might recognize the foundational tenets of faith, like placing trust in God in all things, being grateful for blessings, being generous to those who are in need. In simple language and rhyme, children can absorb those lessons too, while also learning how easy and natural prayer can be. After all, when you come down to it, prayer is just a simple, heartfelt conversation with God.

I believe the greatest gift you can give a child is the gift of prayer. As children grow up and learn about loss and grief, the ones who know they can turn to God in prayer at any time will always get throughthat suffering with their peace of mind and faith intact. It will not stop them from experiencing suffering of course, but it will give them hope. And that’s exactly what you give children when you teach them to pray early—the gift of hope.

For this book I teamed up with the incredible illustrator Mark Elliott, whose work can be seen in the “Princess Tales” series. I wanted art work that was a little bit reminiscent of Norman Rockwell. I think children will identify with the pictures—especially the funny ones. I’m very fortunate to have received some high-level praise for the book in advance of publication. For instance, the book has already been officially endorsed by the National Day of Prayer; and Bernice King, the daughter of Dr Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King, has said that the book is a springboard for helping children establish a relationship with God.

If you want to know more about the book, please check it out at Amazon.com or go to this special page I have set up for blog readers.

Treasure goes both ways

I spent the past few days at the Dallas gathering of the US delegates for the Cape Town 2010 congress. To say I felt completely humbled is a gross overstatement. I got to meet and talk with so many amazing people, heads of ministries, devoted followers of Jesus, people with amazing stories.

One of the songs we sang was the song God gave Patrick and me when we prepared for heading to France as missionaries, Be Thou My Vision. The verse that grabbed us was this one:

Riches I heed not
Nor man's empty praise
Thou mine inheritance now and always
Thou and Thou only first in my heart
High King of heaven, my treasure Thou art

Such great, deep, important words. I fear we live in a world of Christian celebrities, many of us longing for that kind of shallow recognition: riches, praise from men, security from money (inheritance). We pine after trinkets instead of treasuring the God of Everything.

Even so, singing those words again reminded me to turn my back on the lure of others' praise. It made me want to know Jesus' love for me more deeply, more truly, so that I didn't spend my life running after others' words. All I need, truly, is His words toward me.

So when we took communion, something very surprising happened. I received the bread, then dipped it in the cup. The man with the cup looked into my eyes and said, "You belong to Jesus."

It rocked my world. I belong. I belong to the High King of Heaven. The Treasured one treasures me enough to choose me to belong. I'm chewing on that beauty right now.

On the Outside

I've wondered for quite some time why I devoured and loved To Kill a Mockingbird. It's only been recently that I realized why Tom Robinson's story touched me so. He was on the outside. Not included. On the fringes. Not believed. Forsaken by many.

There were times in my life I felt that way, and I suspect many of you have had periods where you've felt on the outside. School breeds these kinds of feelings. I remember wearing the wrong clothes to my new school in sixth grade, how out of place I felt, how ashamed, how different. Though I wasn't persecuted, I did feel the alienation of being different.

Growing up as an only child, I had ample opportunity to sit back and observe, to be on the sidelines watching others interact. This observation has helped me immensely as a writer, but it also served to separate me from others.

So I empathize with folks on the outside because I've been there. I certainly don't believe I've walked in Tom Robinson's shoes for any stretch, but I have worn the flips flops of an outsider. And in that, I am deeply thankful for Jesus.

Hebrews 13:12 says, "So also Jesus suffered and died outside the city gates to make his people holy by means of his own blood." Jesus' own death didn't occur near a palace, or even on the streets He used to walk. He suffered outside the gates of the city, outside of community, outside of prominence. Like Tom, He was an innocent man, paying for the sin of another. And He did so alone.

If Jesus, the Holy Outsider, can perform such a wild act of self-sacrificing love, perhaps I can stoop to untie His sandals and walk in His steps. And maybe if we all wear those sandals, there will be less alienation, less prejudice, less outsiders.

One can only hope.

Jesus bore the wrath

I don't know about you, but I don't much like wrath. Much of my life has been spent avoiding other people's wrath. I'm terrified of it. Anger directed toward me scares me. So today, the simple truth weaseled its way into my heart. Jesus bore God's righteous wrath. He took it. He absorbed it. He wore it. He felt it. He experienced it.

Imagine bearing the righteous anger of God Almighty!

Jesus bore other wrath too--the wrath of fellow human beings, the wrath of the demonic hoardes. But none was so devastating as bearing His Father's wrath.

Why am I so afraid, then? Jesus bore the most intense wrath. He took the wrath I deserved. If His sacred brow could absorb such a thing, surely I can lean on Him when others' wrath bears down on me.

I'm resting there today, in the shelter of the One who bore the wrath.

The motions

I'm thinking about and singing this song, "The Motions" by Matthew West. You can watch the amazing video here.

It was easy singing a song like that when we lived in France, untethered to security, constantly facing distress and out-of-the-box trials. We left everything comfortable. But now I live in Texas with a church on every corner, attending an amazing, vibrant church. I have good friends, great kids, a terrific husband. And it all seems so easy.

I'm afraid to say the word "easy" out loud, though. It's like I'm inviting trouble, isn't it? Because even if life feels navigatable, God is always at work on the inner landscape of stubborn hearts, isn't He? Though I do feel like I could choose to put myself out there, away from comfort more often--in those places where I can't depend on my wherewithal.

It's like my workout plans in 2009, which consisted of one thing: jogging. I wondered why it didn't help, why I didn't lose the weight I'd gained back in Texas. Well, the sad truth is this: I'm far too easy on myself. When I got winded, I slowed down. When I hurt, I desisted.

Now that I have a trainer for a few more sessions, I see my tendency to embrace comfort over exertion. She pushes me way beyond where I'd push myself, and I'm finally seeing results. It's that way in the spiritual life. The Holy Spirit pushes us out of the nest of our comfortable spot, pushes us to fly on fickle winds. We have a choice. To fly or to cling to the nest.

Going through the motions is clinging to the nest. It's making an idol out of comfort rather than living for the glory of God.

I don't want to go through the motions! But I do want to go through motions!

Lord, help me to heed You when You push me outside that which is comfortable to me. Help me to feel the weight of Your push, the dread of the air beneath me, the power of Your wings to help me soar in unknown places. I don't want to embrace complacency. I want to trust You with risk, with daring to live for You even when it hurts. Rejuvenate my desires. Lift them above comfort to conforming to Your will. I choose You, Lord. Wherever You lead is where I want to go.

Why do poorly written books sell?

(Picture credit: me, at Chihuly museum in Tacoma, WA). I'm posting this picture for a reason, to show the beauty of art that took invention, labor, and creativity to make.)

Today over at Facebook I asked the question, "Why do poorly written books sell well?" Some spoke of the importance of story (and I agree.) A poorly written book with a knockout story will sell. We are creatures of story. Others mentioned that unschooled folks could write memoirs and they'd read them because they knew them. Also valid. One of my favorite books is a self published book by a now-deceased friend. He lived the message of that book. And he was an excellent storyteller.

Others lamented the loss of our taste for excellent writing. I lament that too. And others spoke of the importance of writing in today's vernacular. (I'd buy that, but then I read a book like The Book Thief, which is brilliant, and see that teens and adults can abide by good writing.)

Some mentioned marketing or an important hook (like a celebrity book). True. Much of what entices consumers ties into marketing. But it's also true that good ol' grass roots word of mouth truly sells books. So why would folks recommend a poorly written book?

Others mentioned that poor writing is in the eye of the beholder. That one person's poor writing is another's accessibility. True. We're all different, and we all have unique reading preferences. And not everyone is nitpicky like me.

A girl named Rachel wrote this: "Book selling is a business, good writing is an art. TWO ENTIRELY DIFFERENT PLANETS. Why do we pay $20 for a copy of picture at our local big box store and there are hand-painted masterpieces in someone's basement?" That's an interesting point. But as a writer who tries to make a living, surely there's some convergence between the two, right?

Beth wrote, "It appears to me it is more about how God would choose to use a book, than how polished their writing is. God still uses broken vessels today just as he did in Biblical times." While, as a cracked pot myself, I agree with this, the logic could be taken to another conclusion. I could say, "Well, God uses broken stuff, so I'm just going to slap something together and pray He'll bless it." Of course I believe in the sovereignty of God, but I also believe in the Puritan work ethic, the laboring over something as an act of worship of a Creative God. As David said, I don't want to offer something to God that costs me nothing.

As a word artist, I take my craft seriously. I know not all writers see themselves that way. That's okay.

But for me, I must write a better book than the book I've written before. As a Christ follower, I choose to grow, to learn excellence, to perfect the craft as a form of worship. Of course that includes storytelling. But it also involves crafting the words, creating the kind of sentences and stories that woo my readers in. I'm passionate about this, as its my livelihood.

Does it bother me that poorly written books sell? On one small level, yes. But it doesn't deter me from pressing into working harder. I owe that to the One who gifted me, and I owe it to my reader.

I know I may not sell a million books. But I do want to be able to look myself in the mirror and know I've grown in my craft. More than that, I want to hear "Well done, good and faithful servant."

Confession of a Forty-Something: Weight Loss is Hard

Yep, I'm trying to lose some extra weight that accumulated in Texas. In France I walked so much, I maintained a healthy, happy weight (and I was younger there), but now that I've hit the 40s and settled into a sedentary writer's lifestyle, I've been frustrated that my clothes are tight. (Picture, me in France with kids three years ago).

So I've taken charge. I record my food intake every day at Livestrong.com. I try to exercise most days, and I've started working out with a personal trainer. So far so good. Two weeks = 4 pounds lost. And I'm getting stronger, eliminating most processed sugar (thanks to Truvia!), and feeling better.

This is a lifestyle change, not a diet. I'm an awful person when I'm hungry, so I eat when I'm hungry. I am adding more veggies and whole grains to my diet. And I limit my treats to dark, dark chocolate. (I also don't drink my calories.) I'm also endeavoring to drink 8 glasses of water a day. That's NOT easy for nonthirsty me. Seriously, I am NEVER thirsty. Drinking is something I have to force.

So today I feel pretty good about my progress. Tomorrow, maybe not. But if I put it out here, and if I keep writing down what I eat on Livestrong, chances are I'll succeed.

How about you? How are you trying to maintain a healthy diet? What kind of exercise do you love? What healthy habit has helped you lose weight? (Please don't comment like you're an informercial, though!)