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Death sucks.

We can call today Good Friday with the benefit of hindsight. But on that Friday, the day a man from Nazareth was nailed to two wooden beams, the people who loved him thought it was anything but Good. All they could see was Death.

Please head over to The House Studio to check out my guest post today on death and a few things Christians should consider before Easter Sunday arrives.

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Incidentally, if this is your first time here, you can check out the story of how my business failed and my wife and I moved our family of six into my parents basement so that I could pursue my dream of writing full time. That story starts here: Falling Through.

There’s also two of my most read posts of all time: “Confessions From the Guy Standing at the Back of the Church” or “The Opposite of Love is not Hate”

Or if fiction is more your thing, don’t forget to check out the “Choose Your Own Adventure” style story I’ve been working on, where each week you guys get to vote on what happens next. It’s about a girl living in a walled city – she wins the lottery when the attendant from whom she purchases the ticket changes her numbers. Oh, and the lottery isn’t for money. Check that story out HERE.

Have you ever noticed how fast life/God/fate can pull the rug out from under you?

I feel like my life is constantly going back and forth between two phases – either I’m unsettled and looking for something different, or I finally reach a state of satisfaction only to have outside change thrust upon me.

How do you deal with change?

(If you’ve blogged about major transitions in your life, please give us a link in the comments section below).

When my kids are scared at bed time, a story usually does the trick. When they got bored during our 2300 mile road trip through Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, North Carolina and Virginia (with minor appearances in West Virginia and Maryland), stories took their mind off the endless miles of highway. When they want to feel part of a grand narrative, they’ll ask me to tell an exciting story where they are the main characters.

“Tell us the story about the adventure those four kids go on,” Lucy asks, referring to herself, her two brothers and her sister.

Stories are the language of children, and since we were all children once, stories are one of the only common languages of humanity.

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“…you’ll be able to tell your children and grandchildren…the stories of the signs that I brought down on them, so that you’ll all know that I am God.” (Exodus 10:2)

“…tell God’s stories to everyone you meet…” (Psalm 9:11)

“So the next generation would know, and all the generations to come – Know the truth and tell the stories.” (Psalm 78:6)

Something the modern mindset has successfully undermined is the power of stories. For a hundred years or more, our obsession with the scientific method has worn away at the credibility once given to the imagination, to making things up, to belief without evidence.

Yet even a cursory reading of the Bible reveals the power of stories. One gospel writer claims that Jesus didn’t speak to the crowds without using stories.

This is the evolution of faith that I found so refreshing in Rachel Held Evan’s debut book, “Evolving in Monkey Town.” She introduces us to Dayton, Tennessee, the town where the Scopes Monkey Trial “made a spectacle of Christian fundamentalism” in the first half of the 20th century. The unexpected appearance of doubt in her fundamentalist faith sent Rachel on a journey of uncertainty, inquisitiveness, and hope.

What I love most about “Evolving in Monkey Town” is that Rachel doesn’t lead us into this place of doubt and then leave us dangling, uncertain of our next move.

She leaves us with a passage about stories:

Questions are a child’s way of expressing love and trust. They are a child’s way of starting dialogue. They are a child’s way of saying, “I want to have a conversation with you”…If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that serious doubt – the kind that leads to despair – begins not when we start asking God questions but when, out of fear, we stop. In our darkest hours of confusion and in our most glorious moments of clarity, we remain but curious and dependent little children…

God must really love us, because he always answers with such long stories.

If you’re interested in the evolving nature of faith and belief, if you still have hope in the power of stories, you need to read this book.

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Rachel Held Evans is a writer, skeptic, and Christ-follower from Dayton, Tennessee—home of the famous Scopes Monkey Trial of 1925.

Her first book, a spiritual memoir entitled Evolving in Monkey Town, released with Zondervan in July of 2010. Her second book, an experimental memoir (tentatively) titled “A Year of Biblical Womanhood” will be released by Thomas Nelson in 2012. (You can learn more about the experiment here.)

You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.

One of the great funny movies of all time, “Groundhog Day” tells the story of weatherman Phil (Bill Murray) as he lives the same day over and over…and over…and over again. He’s a cocky son-of-a-gun, which is where many of today’s secrets can be found:

1) Being a writer requires a certain amount of confidence. Day after day you try to transform 26 letters of the alphabet into complex ideas and engaging stories. Anyone who thinks they can accomplish this is either crazy, or, well, someone like Phil:

Phil: I’m a god.
Rita: You’re God?
Phil: I’m a god. I’m not *the* God… I don’t think.

On second thought, you probably shouldn’t think you’re a god. You might be in for a let down. But in order to continue as a writer you do need a measure of confidence.

2) If you feel stuck, try something different.

Phil: What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?
Ralph : That about sums it up for me.

Change up your point-of-view, your setting, your characters. Try writing in your favorite writer’s voice. Try writing in the voice of a writer you despise (either because you don’t like their writing or their popularity drives you mad with jealousy). Whatever it is, try something different.

3) Sometimes people won’t like what you’ve written. Sometimes even you won’t like what you’ve written. It’s inevitable. One way to maintain the confidence we talked about in #1 is to remember this:

Phil: People like blood sausage too, people are morons.

People generally have terrible taste. Look at the most popular television shows or singers. Think about the most popular food places in the world (McDonalds and Subway). Did you know that NASCAR is the world’s most attended sport?

4) In your new found super-confidence, be prepared to adjust your approach:

Phil: You weren’t in broadcasting or journalism?
Rita: Uh unh. Believe it or not, I studied 19th-century French poetry.
Phil: [laughs] What a waste of time! I mean, for someone else that would be an incredible waste of time. It’s so bold of you to choose that. It’s incredible; you must have been a very very strong person.

5) In the same way that Bill Murray had to relive Groundhog Day a million and two times until he got it just right, be prepared to keep trying until the piece of writing is what it should be:

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Similar posts include:

Five Writing Secrets I Learned From “Dumb and Dumber”

Five Writing Secrets I Learned From “The Princess Bride”

Five Writing Secrets I Learned From “Airplane”

Most nights 70 – 80 kids show up, probably for the food, but also for the video games and the ping pong table and the pool table. And yes, even for the 20 minute inspirational talk. On rainy evenings even more kids pack into the building.

But when you definitely didn’t eat breakfast, and you probably didn’t eat lunch because your parents forgot (or just weren’t interested enough) to fill out the “free lunch” forms, then you tend to get pretty hungry by the time 5:30 rolls around.

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The first time I met Chuck was outside The Factory, a youth and community center that he runs. I have a feeling he’s older than he looks, but hanging with kids all the time keeps you young. He shook my hand and looked me in the eye. And I liked him. No nonsense. Practical. Holding the course. That’s the feeling I got.

He showed me into The Factory, a renovated house where local, impoverished youth spend their afternoons and evenings. He used to use Bible stories in his talks, or read from scripture. Then one night, during a talk about Adam and Eve, when the blank stares became overwhelming, he asked a question.

“Listen, how many of you guys know the story of Adam and Eve? The Garden of Eden? Original sin?”

Out of the 80 kids there, 3 or 4 raised their hands.

“This generation doesn’t know the old Bible stories,” he said. “And that’s okay. I don’t care. I just want them to understand how much Jesus loves them. I just want them to go to bed with full stomachs. I want them to have a place to go if they need help.”

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Recently one of the kids who is always at The Factory had a parent that died, and the kid vanished. For 24 hours no one knew where he was. He wouldn’t take any of his family’s phone calls or reply to anyone’s texts.

Well, actually, there was one person he sent texts to all day.

Chuck.

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There are no strings attached at The Factory. If you want food, you come and take as much as you want. If you want help finding a job, show up and they’ll walk you through the interview process. If you’ve experienced death in the family, let them know and they’ll connect you with a local church – not because that church will recruit you, but because they will provide you with some meals, and someone to talk to.

Too often we leverage our position and privilege when working with those in poverty. “We’ll give you access to support and programs, but only if you come to church. We’ll provide for you, but only after you listen to us read from the Bible.”

What would my life look like if I lived out my Christianity with no strings attached?

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You can learn more about the awesome things going on at The Factory, inquire about volunteer opportunities, or make a donation HERE.

John Steinbeck wrote, in the journals he kept while writing The Grapes of Wrath:

Early start this morning. Can’t ever tell. Worked long and slowly yesterday. Don’t know whether it was good, but it was a satisfactory way to work and I wish it would be that way every day. I’ve lost this rushed feeling finally and can get back to the easy method of day by day – which is as it should be…Today I shall work slowly and try to get that good feeling again. It must be. Just a little bit every day. A little bit every day. And then it will be through.

For him, the creation came bit by bit. Word on word. Day after day.

Stillness is good. It centers us, prepares us for what is to come. Rest is needed.

But movement is necessary.

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A few weeks ago I was in bed, thinking about the garden I would plant. I imagined the rows, the placement of each seed. I pictured the way the spinach would push up through the dirt, the way the pea plants would get so heavy that my twine lines would sag under the weight of what they had to offer. I could almost hear the corn rustling on a warm summer’s night.

I cursed the yellow and black demon caterpillars who would show up and devour my broccoli, just as they did last year.

I could have lain there, night after night, picturing my garden. But without doing, without movement, nothing ever would have grown. Nothing but weeds.

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Stillness is life. Movement is living.

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Similar posts:

The Art is in the Work
The Art is in the Story