HAS THE WORLD GONE CRAZY?

by Marion Ueckermann

My husband and I have just returned from a six-week vacation in Europe and Britain. Despite being far away from South Africa with its increasing political issues, it was hard—even amidst the beautiful colorful countryside, majestic old castles and stately homes, and fresh scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream—to switch off at times from the negative issues from home as we chatted with fellow South Africans and family living abroad about our declining country with its myriad of problems.

The day before we left the UK, the tragic Manchester bombing shattered people’s lives. We’d bypassed this city merely 24 hours before, unaware of the tragedy that would happen the following night. As we explored the streets of Rome later that same week, we saw the effects of the increasing terror threats in Europe in the very visible military presence at all tourist attractions.

Soaking in the tranquil beauty of Tuscany, it was easy to forget about all the problems and suffering in the world. Until our own family crisis struck, something too personal to speak about here, but an event which caused tremendous heartache, leaving us wondering like the rest of the world: “How do we fix this?”

The answer? We can’t. Only God can. And I stand amazed at the incredible ways He has brought people across our path who themselves have walked a similar road, or are close to someone on the same journey…people who could share their stories, offer comfort, give advice. Our Heavenly Father even sent little fireflies in the night to remind us that there is always a light in the dark, always a glimmer of hope.

One evening, several days later, my son and I were walking through the streets of Modena in Italy. We passed through a park and the most beautiful fragrance, like Jasmine on steroids, filled the air…a fragrance we’d enjoyed in Florence and wondered where it came from. I asked my son’s friends what trees held these gloriously fragrant blooms. Tiglio trees came the answer. I googled this later to discover these green giants are known as lime trees or linden in England, and basswood in North America.

We’d just exited this park, the Tiglio trees’ fragrance following us out, when my son shared with me his angst of not knowing what the future held. I reminded him that while we might not know, we serve a God who does. I encouraged him to focus on one day at a time, that Jesus told us not to worry about tomorrow because today had enough of its own worries, all the while trying to remind myself to remember this same principle.

When we got back to the house, I checked my emails and there was one from a twice-weekly devotion I subscribe to called Loop. These short devotions are written as personal letters from God to women. To me. The title immediately caught my attention, and as I read I allowed myself to return to the Tiglio trees. With permission, I share this devotion—My Fragrance—and the introductory email from the author, Jennifer J. Camp, with you.

Dear sister,

I want to live this day so aware of God in me—the Holy Spirit my guide and counselor, that I inhabit the fragrance of His presence. For it is beautiful there—this place where I am my true self.

What will that be like for you, this day? How will you be affected by this awareness? Will you be more patient, more kind, more filled with hope and joy? How will others around you, whom you love, be blessed by your heeding the rhythms of the Holy Spirit within you?

Jennifer

 My Fragrance

“For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing” (2 Corinthians 2:15).

I am for you. I am with you. I go before, knowing what is ahead. I stand behind, my hand on your shoulder, so close you can smell my presence. Yes, there is a fragrance of my Spirit. This is where I invite you to live—your truest self, stripped of all insecurities, all what-ifs, all doubts and fears and pains.

Breathe deeply, my dear one. Breathe in sweetness and hope. Breathe in newness and the clean air I bring.

I draw you in.

Let Me be your strength. There, you are glorious. Let Me be the hand you hold—all weight lifted, all sorrow behind. Let Me cup your face in my hands. Let Me look on you. Let Me hold you. Let Me walk next to you. Match my stride. 

I show you how.

There is a pace—within this fragrance of my presence—where I invite you to stay. Keep that pace. You know the pace, the rhythm, the movement of your moments when you can breathe Me and smell the fragrance of Me with you.

I envelop you. I carry you. And all whom you meet will be in my presence, with you, too. They will be enveloped in the fragrance of Me. All you do with Me points the people you meet to the fragrance. Let it spread. Keep in step. Check the pace. Let it be a rhythm that is natural.

Practice.

Breathe.

I show you how.

https://www.gatherministries.com/

Saturday night a week ago, we caught our flight back to South Africa from Milan. We landed in Doha at 6 AM to news of yet another terror attack in London on London Bridge and at Borough Market. More terror. More heartache. More needing to breathe in deep of the fragrance of our Heavenly Father.

This week has seen the most scenic parts of our country wiped out through out-of-control fires and gale force winds with thousands of people losing everything. Even as I write this, fires still rage in our beautiful garden route. We have family in those areas, we have friends, we have friends who have family… So many lives affected. So much tragedy. And in it all, God reminds us to breathe deep and see Him bring beauty from the ashes.

MARION UECKERMANN's passion for writing was sparked when she moved to Ireland with her family. Her love of travel has influenced her contemporary inspirational romances set in novel places. Marion and her husband again live in South Africa, but with two gorgeous grandsons hanging their hats at the house next door, their empty nest's no longer so empty.

Visit Marion at www.marionueckermann.net

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Tragedy and Fiction -LeAnne Hardy

For 45 seconds the earth shakes, half a city collapses, and 200,000 people die.  If it came out of Hollywood, we would say it was one of those ridiculous Apocalyptic movies with no plot but great special effects—except that this is real.  As real as a huge wave of water overwhelming coastal communities and sweeping away life as they knew it.  As real as airplanes flying into buildings that collapse on thousands.   Even as I write we are following news of another earthquake in Chile.  Thanks to the Internet and satellite TV, these images flash around the world instantly.  They make a dramatic background for fiction. 

But do we trivialize when we base fiction on such realities?

I have been reading Scared by Tom Davis, a novel about HIV in Swaziland that I first heard about on this blog.  It’s strong stuff.  The opening scene describes a 1998 raid by rebels on a town in Congo (formerly Zaire) where they murder the men, rape and kill the women, and pile the bodies to burn, desecrating them before they do.  Gruesome stuff, but, as a foreword from the publishers warns, this is reality.  Scared also describes scenes of child rape and near-rape.  I have worked with children affected by HIV in Africa, and I assure you that Davis describes nothing that is not true to life.

We often choose Christian fiction because we are sick of secular writers using gratuitous violence and explicit sex to sell books.  We want to be protected from all that.  But is there such a thing as being too protected—so protected that we lose our passion for justice and righteousness, that we forget how evil sin is—because we have glossed over unpleasant realities? 

I have been following The Livesay [Haiti] Weblog, the account of Troy and Tara Livesay, missionaries in Haiti.  (One of his beautiful photos opens this blog.) Tara ran the Disney Marathon with my daughter two days before the earth shook although the she and my daughter never met among the thousands running through the Magic Kingdom and around the lake at Epcot.  I have never met her family.  I knew nothing of their ministry before a friend passed on the link on Facebook.  But for me, reading their blog puts humanity on the things I see on TV and places my God firmly in the midst.  As a parent, one of the most poignant entries was when they took their six younger children (three of Haitian nationality) to the American Embassy to send them off with strangers on a cargo plane to the U.S.  I felt Tara’s relief when they got the message that the children were safe with family in New Jersey.  The Livesays have now gone to Texas for a time of healing with their children, but the blog continues to give me specifics to pray that will aid not just the general population of the country, but specific people who can be touched with the love of God.

Fiction can make us identify with realistic characters and so empathize with a situation beyond our comprehension.  The Livesay’s blog is not fiction.  It is current events.  Is it appropriate to use these huge tragedies in our fiction, or are we guilty of exploiting the suffering of others to sell books?  What limitations or qualifications would you put on fiction that uses tragedies like the Haiti earthquake as background?  Or are non-fiction accounts the only appropriate way to convey what happened?  Comment below and tell us what you think. 

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LeAnne Hardy has lived in six countries on four continents. Her books for young people come out of her cross-cultural experiences and her passion to use story to convey spiritual truths in a form that will impact lives. Visit her at www.leannehardy.net .