Christ Animated

... means take care of your business... Your purpose ... Your calling ... If you own or manage a business, and do not actively work to keep the business runnong smoothly and staying profitable, your business will suffer. You, in turn, will suffer whatever consequences that brings. I am sitting right now in a local business that is undergoing an extensive remodel. The owner says this was necessary to improve their service to their customers. It's working. He said the restaurant is not usually too busy this day of the week and time of day. It's why he asked us to come in this window. But the place is hopping. About 3/4 of the tables are filled with customers and the wait staff is buzzing. There's also a line of customers placing to-go orders at the register. The owners are taking care of their customers, taking care of their business. They are minding their business. And both they and their customers are happy. You can tell from all the smiles across the large room.

It's a new season. Time for a new narrative -- a new story. Yesterday is over and cannot be lived again. Tomorrow has not yet arrived, and attempts to live there are futile. So today is the story. You are the protagonist, the main character in your story. The crisis, the climax, the resolution? Yet to be revealed for this short story, this new chapter in the novella. The setting is a small town in Newton County, named for flowing water and a rolling game. The other characters are all around. The plot is simple. You awake and move forward through the day, some in habitual routine, some perhaps in new action and discovery. Your goal simply to reach the conclusion unscathed. But what if today the backdrop cracked a bit, the curtain rustled and you discovered you were part of a larger, more meaningful story? That your creation was for the delight of the Author, and that he had already decided the prime antagonist couldn't ultimately harm you ... That if you trusted in the Au

I need to be writing. Being a writer is what I really want to be. I have lots of ideas for stories — hundreds of ideas for bits of stories — all the time. But actually sitting down and doing the writing is difficult. I have all kinds of excuses. Not enough time. Not enough space. Too much noise. Too many interruptions. And if I'm writing about a little boy who's suddenly given the ability to heal, I keep thinking about a story of wounded World War II soldier who wakes to find himself in another time. And I can't stop editing as I'm writing. I'm convinced no one wants to read what I want to write. I wonder if anyone who bought (or to whom I gave) either book I coauthored actually read them, outside of a church class. Wanting to do this for a living is discouraging sometimes. I truly appreciate the compliments I receive on my weekly newspaper columns, etc. But writing what I want? I'm writing about writing and not writing. The only way to find out is to

He’s a private person, so he doesn’t really want to talk about himself. He’ll tell you the essentials — his name, what he does for a living, that he likes his coffee black, thanks — but anything more than that he feels is unnecessary. It’s not that he wants to be mysterious, or that he’s hiding anything. He simply thinks more information about himself is excess. He’s interested in you, though.  He doesn’t ask questions, but he listens to every story you share with a genuine smile on his wrinkled face. When you talk about your son’s broken arm or your daughter’s ballgame, you can see the concern or celebration in his sparkling eyes.  You don’t know much about him except that you like him. He’s easy to talk to, and you always feel better after you see him.  And then one day, you don’t. He doesn’t come around anymore and no one seems to know where he’s gone.  Then you see it in the paper — his obituary. When you catch your breath, you read. There’s more information