WRITING TESTIMONY
Many years ago I had the dream to write. Slowly that dream gave way to the desire to write for the Lord. It paralleled my journey from being born again in 1983, shortly after I graduated from college, to being nudged by the Lord to that place of surrendering everything to Him. It took about fifteen years! It crystallized in 1998, as I was reading a copy of Watchman Nee’s The Normal Christian Life that a friend had given to me two years earlier. Funny how sometimes those books sit on one’s shelf until just the right moment. It was about halfway through that book that I realized the idol in my life was my writing. After having pursued the craft of fiction for enough years to begin to see promise (finalizing in writing contests; personalized rejection letters from editors who had encouraging things to say), I felt I was “almost there” to being published. But one night, alone in my family room, reading that book by Nee, I knelt down and gave the desire of my heart over to the Lord. I had no idea what He would do with it; I could only trust that He would make everything all right.
A few months after this, I got my final rejection letter (on a manuscript which was still pending when I had knelt before the Lord). It was from a major Christian publishing house. They had liked my manuscript very much and wanted to see more of my writing. They suggested I try my hand at a novella—a shorter form from anything I had ever done.
I was in a quandary—was this from the Lord? I decided this novella would be my fleece. Lord, I prayed, if you want me to write, let this novella be accepted. If you want me to forget writing altogether, let it be rejected. I came up with an idea for the novella based on one of the themes the publisher sent me. When I finished it, I felt for the first time I had written something of publishable standards.
A few months later, I received a manila envelope back from them. I knew then it was a rejection (otherwise I would have received a telephone call). They had indeed returned my manuscript to me, but their reply was not what I had expected. It was neither a Yes nor No from the Lord. It was a “Wait.” The editor explained that because they had reorganized their publishing schedule for their anthologies, the one for which my manuscript was submitted was being moved forward and it would not be fair to hold on to my manuscript. I was invited to re-submit it in two years. TWO YEARS. It might as well be a lifetime.
I understood, however, that the Lord was telling me to wait for two years. I had already committed to doing no writing—not even researching—when I had given the Lord my writing. What was I going to do for two years if I couldn’t write? It was like asking me to give up breathing. I could only trust in the Lord’s grace. Well, He was faithful. The first year passed relatively quickly between raising three young children, growing in the Lord (particularly in that aspect of dying to self), and fellowshipping with some Christian women in my area.
In the summer of 2000, I had the opportunity to spend a couple of months in Venezuela, my mother’s homeland. I took my three children so that they would learn Spanish, as well as see how people live in another part of the world. The Lord gave my mother and me the opportunity to witness to family members and others. One of the souls won to the Lord was a second cousin, whom I hadn’t seen since I was eight years old, on my first trip to Venezuela. We hit it off, seeming to take up where we had left off so many years before.
At the end of the summer we returned to the United States. My mother invited my cousin and her teenaged daughter to come and spend a few months with her in Connecticut. She was hoping that my cousin could continue being discipled in the Lord. I came back to Maine with my children. That fall for the first time all three were in school full-time. I decided to undertake a fast of consecration. I truly wanted the Lord to direct my path in this new phase of my life. I wanted Him to reveal the “deeper” things to me.
I had just begun my fast, a few days before my 41st birthday, when the telephone rang. My mother was having a difficult time coping with many things that were going on in her life at that time—among which were my cousin and her teenaged daughter. She asked if I could have them stay with me in Maine. The alternative was for them to return to Venezuela, barely before they’d had a chance to be in the States.
Right before beginning my fast—the very day before, in fact—I had been listening to a Focus on the Family radio broadcast about a man called Norman. It so touched me that I shared the gist of it that night with my children over dinner.
That man’s testimony—of how he had discipled a neighbor named Norman—against his very will at first, but in obedience to the Lord, showed me that discipleship costs. It costs time, effort, patience. Oh, but what fruit came from that period of obedience.
The next morning when I received that phone call asking for help, I knew it was for my Norman. It was not what I would have chosen for that period of time in my life (but then there was not much that appealed to me then, since I no longer had my writing). I knew discipling my cousin would cost me.
Although my cousin was nothing like Norman, she was also a special case. My cousin was bright, well educated, a former executive; and I knew we would get along. But she was also disabled. She had been suffering from osteoarthritis for the last decade. She was a baby in Christ and would be completely dependent on me economically while under my roof. This was a period in my life when I was strapped financially and in no position to take on another burden. Finally, she had an only child along—a teenager, who didn’t want to be in the United States at that time, but who’d been forced to come with her mother, leaving her friends, school, and family without understanding why. In addition to all this, my husband was not completely convinced I should take on this responsibility. But since he traveled much of the time, he left the decision to me.
Was I prepared to handle any of this under my roof? Absolutely not! But I praised God for the opportunity, for considering me worthy and ready to undertake the work He had for me.
My cousin stayed with me nine months. It wasn’t always easy, but I was so awed by having the opportunity to witness someone hungry for God, someone who was willing to turn her life completely over to Him. It made me realize more acutely how few Christians are like that.
It was in the spring before my cousin left my house that I woke one morning with a dream. It was the germ of an idea for a story. The idea grew in the following days and I took notes. Then with ‘fear and trembling’, still unsure whether this was of the Lord, I began researching the book (a historical) as my two-year waiting period came to an end. I also re-submitted my novella to the original publishing house. In the fall of that year (2001) I finally began to write my story (a full-length novel). I finished the first draft just before Christmas—three years after I’d given my writing over to the Lord. The following year began the process of receiving critical feedback and rewriting. Then in 2003, I entered in a writers’ contest. I heard that my category (inspirational fiction) had been eliminated and that my manuscript would be judged in the secular historical category. I knew it would stand little chance of being judged fairly. Fall came and with it an email from the senior editor at the publishing house, thanking me for the submission of my novella, but that it hadn’t made the cut. She encouraged me to keep writing.
Then in October I got a telephone call from the contest coordinator. I had placed 2nd in the contest (and this in the secular category!), and the editor judging the final round was interested in seeing the full manuscript. She thought it might be right for a new line of Christian inspirational fiction her publishing house would be starting the following year.
I sent her the full manuscript and again months went by. By January of 2004, when I began to think I would be receiving a nice rejection letter in the mail, I had a phone call. It was the editor. She not only wanted to buy the manuscript to debut in their new line, but she wanted to sign me to a three-book contract—an almost unheard of thing with an unknown writer! Almost four years had gone by.
I am now on my fourth contract with this publishing house. The Lord has shown me that when you place your gift in the Master’s hand, he will truly multiply it.
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