Christian fiction without apology or pretense — lived, not preached.
It happens every time. #1daughter and I sit down to watch a mystery movie and within five minutes, we’ve pegged whodunnit. We’re rarely wrong. For us, the game isn’t in figuring out who, but why—or better yet, not getting sidetracked by excellently-placed red herrings and plot twists. It … [Read more...]
“Are you like her? Do you sing hymns when you’re stressed or happy?” You know that old saying, “If I had a dollar for…” Yeah. I could almost pay the mortgage every month with that one. Or at least, it feels like I could. I also never know how to answer it. See, I do. I’m always … [Read more...]
The picture stunned me. After a lifetime of riding Ferris wheels at county fairs, I saw an up close picture of the original—the first one shown at the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair. Look, I knew that the ones I’d ridden were tiny compared to the “real thing,” but I was not prepared for that … [Read more...]
Mending Fences—the title could have meant anything, but I suspected it would be about the more psychological rather than the physical side of the saying. She picked up the book and eyed it with a skeptical look on her face. “They’re all the same—or at least, they start feeling like it.” Look, … [Read more...]
At least once a week an email arrives. While the words are always a little bit different, they all say the same basic thing, “I love your books. What’s the best way to tell everyone else how great they are?” Translation: “How can I help promote your books?” Look, I need to say something … [Read more...]
He held out a necklace with a pendant on it. It read, 90% angel. "They didn’t have one that said 100% angel,” he said. Usually, when one of the nicest, cutest guys in school gives you a gift, it’s a compliment. This wasn’t. And, thanks to my father totally not getting that, when I told him … [Read more...]
Landers, California. 1984. I can still see the grass green shag carpeting as Dad said it. “If I ever write a book, I’ll use the name A.J. Josephs.” I’m not sure why pseudonyms hadn’t really clicked with me. After all, I knew how Samuel Clemens chose his. John Wayne was really Marion Morrison, and … [Read more...]
