Too Much Homework is Overwhelming!

I haven’t forgotten that I need to write Part 2 of my last post, Blessed Reassurance.  But here’s the thing: I’ve just got too much writing to do at the moment.  I need to write:

  1. The script for a film about the missionary guesthouse that my apartment in Milan has become,
  2. The script for a PowerPoint about the ministry,
  3. A new post for the website’s blog, and
  4. Part 2 of my last blog post, mentioned above)

In addition to those writing tasks, I have 2 very big translation jobs:

  1. A book from Italian into English (due by the end of the summer) and
  2. Our corporate paperwork from English into Italian (due as soon as possible)

All this is just overwhelming me almost to the point of paralysis.

So, instead of putting off the blog altogether, I thought I would take a pleasant little detour today, and take you on a little guided tour into a writer’s mind—mine!  I have written 3 complete books (nonfiction), and 2 that I never completely finished (fiction—I lost interest ¾ of the way through), and several plays (3-5 acts) and skits, the majority of which have been produced in schools and/or churches.  That’s not bragging, it’s just establishing that I know a thing or 2 about writing.

my books2 of the 3–the only ones I own copies of!

Sometimes people tell me that they feel that urge to write, but writing a book just seems like too big a task.  It’s funny but, I found books to be the easiest thing to write.  Although by word count my plays are about a 10th the size of my books, they were much harder to write.  It was rewarding when they were done, especially when I saw my plays acted on the stage.  But writing, especially dialogue, was like do-it-yourself dentistry: painful and difficult.  Pulling the words out of my characters’ mouths was like trying to extract my own teeth with a rusty pair of pliers.  (How’s that for a colorful image?)

Books are not so hard to write if you break the task into small pieces.  The blog has helped with that—something I hadn’t imagined when I first started blogging just 3 years ago.  In addition, writing becomes easier if you make a regular appointment with yourself.  I try to write daily, but sometimes my heavy travel schedule makes it impossible to keep up with every single day.  One thing I found is that if you start to treat your writing time as an important appointment, you’ll find that your creative self will meet you at your desk, ready to write.  But you must treat your writing task as something important.  Turn off the phone, don’t answer the door, and close your web browser (unless you need to do research on the internet).

Beginning writers might find more success if they write things out with pencil and paper.  My first book was entirely handwritten before a word of it was put on the computer.  There is something about the sound of the pencil scratching across the page that unblocks the creative wells.  And, yes, even writing nonfiction is creative.  You have an incident that happened, but you choose how to shade it and frame it.

If you want to write, but don’t know what to write about, then take a look at what you like to read.  I have always preferred true life stories, how people overcame their circumstances by faith.  I think that’s why I lost interest in writing those 2 novels.  I just find real life so much more interesting, bizarre, and unpredictable.  Many of the things that have happened in my life are so strange that you simply could never make them up.  And the fact that they are true gives them a meaning that mere fiction could never attain.

It is extremely helpful to be a part of a writing group, that is, a group of writers that get together to support each other’s work.  The key word is support.  If the group you find is only interested in tearing each other’s work apart, then find or form another group.  The most helpful writing group I’ve been in was one in which each of us read what we had worked on that week.  Sometimes it’s only by hearing yourself read it aloud that you can notice things like run-on sentences and nonsensical phrasings.  The others then critiqued the writing, but always in kind and helpful ways.

In general, it’s not a good idea to share your writing with non-writers—at least not at first.  Non-writers usually don’t know how to tell you what works and what doesn’t.  Sometimes their comments will be a sweeping statement of disapproval, when in reality there is just a misplaced word or an awkward phrase.  The writing process has been likened to pregnancy and birth.  You wouldn’t give your newborn baby to an inexperienced and clumsy teenager, so you need to treat your newborn writing project with as much care and tenderness.

Editing is way more difficult than writing.  The most important ingredient for editing is time.  Put your writing aside for several weeks or even months.  That will give you fresh eyes to edit with.  So after reading your work to a writing group, making the changes suggested by your “midwives,” put it aside and work on something else or a different part of the project.  Then when you come back to it, you will be much more objective about what you’ve written.  Sometimes you’ll even be surprised by how good it is.

During the editing process, I like to add the sensory imagery that is missing from the first draft.  Sight, smell, sound, touch, and taste all add a dimension to the writing that will help your reader become engrossed in your writing.  Since my writing is nonfiction, this means going back in my mind to remember these missing elements.  Sometimes these come back to me in Technicolor, Dolby surround sound, and Odorama (does anyone else remember Polyester?).  Other times, I have to imagine what is missing.  But this is such an important element that I dare not skip this step, even if it’s difficult to remember.

So, there you have it: my writing process.  Oh, and one last thing: while praying the other day, the Lord showed me that this year I have been working on 2 books simultaneously—hallelujah!  God is good!

Sweet Slovakia

Greetings from Bratislava!

I apologize, I wrote this 3 days ago, but in the absence of internet service, I forgot to post it.  So this is a double-post.

The first thing you notice about Bratislava is that it doesn’t seem to have the eternally crumbling infrastructure of the rest of the formerly Communist world.  The downtown area is sunny by day and well-lit at night.  The sidewalks and pedestrian area are nicely paved and not terribly crowded, although there are plenty of restaurants, shops, and cafes.  And the Slovaks themselves are light-hearted and open, which is probably the most surprising thing of all.  Communism left many people as scarred as their lands.

So how did the Slovaks survive Communism to flourish so nicely?  I think we heard a clue in the Slovakian National Anthem.  Anushka translated and explained the lyrics, which in part tell the story of a woman digging a well.  She dug deeper and deeper, and deeper still.  Then she looked into the well, thinking that she should drown herself in the well.  But she decides not to do that.  These are strange lyrics for a national anthem, but in it you can see the unhappy scars of Communism that tempted the woman (Slovakia) to kill herself.  Somehow she finds the resilience to survive.

The Slovaks, like the woman, bear the scars of Communism, but have turned their attention from the dim past to the bright future.  Slovakia does indeed have a bright future.  The economy here is the best of all the formerly Communist world.  Of course, economic crisis is global, and Slovakia is not immune, but the youth are not fleeing Slovakia like they are from many other East European countries.  In fact, we have met young people here who have come to Slovakia looking for a better life, instead of going to the west.

Our first evening here was at a local church that meets in a movie theater.  It was a youth prayer group meeting, but like none I had ever been to before.  Youth from all over the city, from various churches, came to the meeting, which had over 100 people.  There was worship in music and dance, there was teaching, and there was prayer, both corporate and in small groups.  In fact, when it was time for small group prayer, the leaders asked the people over 30 to pray over the youth.  That means that most of our team sought young people to pray for.  I found 2 university students, sweet, smiling girls, and prayed for them.  They were very encouraged by my prayer, and thanked me for praying for them.

Later I heard that the churches all over the city regularly cooperate and meet together.  It gave me such hope.  Unity!  I would love to see unity like this in Milan—or even in America.  The Bratislavan churches do not compete with each other.  They recognize that the different expressions of faith and worship are simply a matter of the individual character of each church family.  People are not regarded with suspicion if they go to a meeting at another church.  I would guess that there is probably less church-hopping, as a result.  Because giving people the freedom to visit and learn from other believers conversely will instill in them a feeling of familial pride in their own home church.  Plus the home church benefits from the sharing of prophetic insight and instruction.  It’s really how the Body of Christ was intended to function.

Young people are the most precious resource that Slovakia has because young people have not yet lost their idealism or their positive outlook.  When a country loses its youth, it loses something really valuable.  It loses its future.

If you want to see the most flourishing of all post-Communism, you should come to Slovakia.  There is a sweetness here that will make you want to come back.  I know I do!  God is good!

 

Kebap Shop Breakfast

Greetings once again from Bratislava!

I woke up early this morning, and left the hostel in search of coffee.  I was surprised to see on the streets that there were a lot of drunken people, mostly young people, at 6:30 in the morning.  A few were staggering, but mostly I could tell that they were drunk by the volume of their voices.  I’m not sure if there is something about having lots of alcohol in the bloodstream that renders a person incapable of hearing as well as normal or if it’s just a matter of having spent all night with thundering music.  The drunken people on the streets all seemed to know the places where they could find food, which was mostly kebap/falafel shops.  The first place I stopped didn’t have coffee.  The counter person acted like it was strange to want coffee at such an hour of the morning.

The next place I stopped had coffee and seating indoors, so I sat down to drink my coffee.  A young man entered soon after me and asked for his kebap in English.  While he was waiting to pay, I asked him where he was from.  He said, “Ireland,” with some pride in his voice.  He paid and sat down with me.  He told me about his night, which had been spent with friends drinking in bars.  I asked his name, which was Sean.  He ate only half of his kebap, declaring that his eyes had been bigger than his stomach (something my dad had often said).   I asked him what time the bars close, and he said they close at 6.  He said that he was the “last man standing,” and that if the bar hadn’t closed, he would be happy to continue drinking because “I’m Irish,” (again said with pride).

Sean works in Bratislava, but travels often between here, Budapest, Vienna, and Prague.  Because he talked so much, I got the feeling that Sean is lonely here.  Perhaps loneliness is something that he is trying to escape with alcohol.  He looked at my cross and said, “You’ll probably feel better than me in the morning.”  Then he stood up and walked out.

I felt bad that I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to share Jesus with him, but I don’t know how much his boozy brain would be able to really understand or accept.  Anyway, I prayed for him.  He is probably my son’s age, and already very much an alcoholic.  It was a sad way to start a Sunday.

Nevertheless, I am looking forward to a very good Sunday because today I am going to kindergarten.  Actually, it is a church that meets in a kindergarten.  The church also runs the kindergarten.  Zuzana is a girl I met on our first night in Bratislava.  We met at that prayer group in the movie theater church.  Zuzana took me to her church, just to show it to me because it was close to where we were meeting, and it was interesting because of the kindergarten meeting there.  To her surprise and mine, the pastor was there—Pastor Ivan.  Immediately I felt a very strong urging by the Holy Spirit to pray for him.  It was a prayer very much led by the Holy Spirit, and it encouraged Pastor Ivan very much.

So when we talked about going to church last night, although I like Anushka’s church very much, I don’t feel like I’ve made quite the same connection as I did at Pastor Ivan’s kindergarten church.  Since it is close to Anushka’s church, and since Zuzana was sitting next to me, I asked if it would be OK if I go to her church instead.  Nobody had a problem with that, and Zuzana was very pleased to hear that I wanted to visit her church.

Most of all, I want to encourage Pastor Ivan, who has had some problems lately.  Sometimes the simple act of showing up can be very encouraging.  I think he will be very encouraged to see me again this morning in church.  And encouraging him will also encourage me.  In God’s work, everybody is encouraged and blessed.  I love working for the Lord!  He really is the best Boss ever!  I often tell people that my Boss is like a Father to me.  God is good!

Blessed in Budapest

Yesterday was our second and last day in Budapest.  In the morning we met in the Jewish Ghetto and did a prayer walk with Esther from Jews for Jesus.  Although the Jews of Budapest were only confined to the ghetto for a month, it was such a difficult time, being winter, that there was no heat and little or nothing to eat.  Many people died during that month, and Esther’s grandmother was one of them.

But then she took us to the Carl Lutz memorial.  Carl Lutz was a Swiss man who saved thousands of Jewish children during the war, and Esther’s mother was of them.  It makes the Holocaust so much more tragic and real when you meet someone so personally impacted by the war.

sculptureCarl Lutz memorial

After lunch we walked out to the middle of the Crown Bridge.  Just last year they had added a couple of obelisks and crown statues to the bridge.  Obelisks are ancient Egyptian symbols, which have to do with the worship of the sun.  Nevertheless, obelisks are found in many churches, especially in Europe.  Obelisks are also a common architectural theme in Freemasonry.  The Masons claim to be a Christian organization and point to their good work in building the Shriners Childrens Hospitals, and riding around in funny little cars in parades wearing fezes, but even a casual glance at the rites reveals the satanic roots of Freemasonry.  The Hungarian crown has a crooked cross on top, which I think is revealing, too.  So we prayed there in the middle of the bridge, looking across the Danube at the Parliament building that we had visited the day before.

Crown Bridge crown sculptureCrown statue on the Crown Bridge

One more destination was the castle and church atop the highest hill in Budapest.  From that vantage point high on the ramparts, we prayed for Budapest and proclaimed her future and her people for Jesus.  Those of us from other countries then prayed for the Hungarians who had come to pray with us, blessings them.

Budapest Castle rampartsCastle ramparts high above the city of Budapest

Finally we returned to the Scottish Mission Church to worship God and have a final evening of prayer together.  It was a really sweet time together, and when the Hungarians surrounded us to pray for us, the Holy Spirit fell upon all of us and we laughed in the sweet joy of the Lord.  So we ended our time together worshiping, praying, blessing, and laughing.  It was wonderful!  God is good!

And today was a travel day back to Bratislava followed by relaxing, each in their own way (taking a run, shopping, sleeping, writing a blog post—guess who!).

Scottish church restroom signRestroom sign at the Scottish Mission Church