BJ Hoff's GRACE NOTES

Congratulations to the Fiction Editor of the Year

Just dropping by long enough to announce that the AWSA has honored Nick Harrison of Harvest House Publishers with the Golden Scroll Fiction Editor of the Year Award.

As one of his always grateful authors, let me say that this is more than well-deserved. Congratulations, Nick!

BJ

Cheers and Sneers

You've probably seen the Fox network's "Champs and Chumps" segments ... and I think it's TV Guide or one of the cable lists that features a "Cheers and Jeers" section ...

Here's my own version for the week: "Cheers and Sneers." 

Cheers: Harvey Korman. In a world that so badly needs laughter, he taught us to laugh at ourselves instead of others. He died this week at the age of 81. The world is a grayer place for his absence.

Sneers: Scott McClellan. One of the least credible and perhaps the most ineffectual White House Press Secretary of record, McClellan seems to have discovered a new, if decidedly sleazy, way to finally get his name back in the news. Unconvincing as Press Secretary, he's even less convincing as an "author."

Cheers: Dianne Odell. The 61-year old woman who spent her life in an iron lung after being afflicted with polio at age 3 died this week when a power failure shut down the machine that kept her alive. During the years of her confinement, Odell managed to get her high school degree, take college courses, and write a children's book.

Sneers: The Hollywood celebrities and other entertainers so eager to tell the rest of us how to live "green," yet who travel the globe in their private jets, indulge themselves with entire fleets of automobiles, and demand outrageous "perks" to be supplied during every appearance or performance. 

Cheers: Members of the clergy and their congregations who have taken steps to bring counseling and financial aid to families in danger of losing their homes through foreclosure and the increasingly depressed housing market. 

Sneers: TV-Land and the kings of sleaze who continue to sink to new lows in their substitution of "reality shows" for quality entertainment. 

BJ  

No Offense

Let me pose a question to you. Perhaps this is an issue you've already thought about and come to terms with. If so, I'd like to hear from you.

How far does one go in "defending" the truth of our faith? Maybe I should phrase that, "how far does one go in defending our God?"

Do we defend our faith or our God? Given the Hitchens and Dawkins of our day and all the rest of the atheist manifestos out there, along with the Eckhart Tolle types, plus the rest of the contingent ever eager to
chip away at what the Christian believes in their attempts to replace the evidence of Christianity with their own jingoistic huffing and puffing, it seems almost a herculean effort to inform ourselves--at least to the point of formulating an intelligent opinion--of the different beliefs and perspectives that abound.

I don't like reading this stuff, especially when there are so many good things to read. Some of it is downright boring, some of it silly, and almost all of it irritating. But if I don't read it, then how do I muster an articulate opinion? (And that's another question: why do so many people ask writers our opinions? It's almost as if they expect us to know something about everything. I don't--and I don't want to. But even if I were a lot smarter than I am, why would I think I should have an opinion on just about everything?)

But I do wonder where the Christian's responsibility begins and ends in all this. Are we all supposed to be apologists? How many of us qualify for that role?

Honestly, some of these writings strike me as little more than drivel--a lot more bad writing than good--and I yawn my way through most of it. During a discussion of this same subject among a writers' internet group, one member commented that our God is "too big for this," referring to wasting time defending God or the faith against some of the atheist propaganda and other publications circulating these days. That's how I feel, too. I'm convinced God doesn't need any defense from me--but I've wanted to make certain this isn't simply me, defending my own disgust of the spewing and mewing going on.

Do you believe that God cares one way or the other if we're informed enough to argue the point, should we find ourselves in a position to do just that?

Approaching this strictly from a writer's perspective, given all the research reading we're compelled to do for our own work, and with the recreational reading we enjoy but have so little time to indulge in, where do we draw the line?

I've discussed this with other writers and searched the Scriptures, and the only basis I've been able to come up with regarding a defense doesn't involve going on the offense with these attacks on the Christian faith. It doesn't in any way suggest that we confront or argue with those bent on airing their own personal "doctrines." 1 Peter 3: 15-16 indicates that in our hearts we're to "set apart Christ as Lord," to "always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have." There's a huge difference in giving a reason for our hope rather than arguing against those who would mock or give the lie to that hope.

Some definitely are gifted in apologetics. The Holy Spirit seems to place them in places and positions where they can eloquently explain and defend and strike a real blow for the Truth. I'm not at all gifted in that respect. Until recently, I've asked myself just how far I should go when it comes to reading and exploring what, more times than not, does nothing but annoy me or make me roll my eyes--in other words, what seems a waste of time and counterproductive.

Well--I've decided that I've gone as far as I'm willing to go.

A friend and pastor seems to have come to the same conclusion. Responding to questions from others in his congregation, he discussed the fact that he's explored samples of some of the publications in question (and so in vogue with the media) and found himself wondering why he was wasting his time, that he was not only accomplishing nothing but was in fact using valuable time (of which he has no abundance) that could better be used in reading what builds up rather than what tears down.

There's the point: why not spend our reading time--and, if applicable, our money as well--on what's edifying and will more firmly ground us in our faith and draw us closer to God?

So that's where I am. I simply don't intend to lend support in terms of time or expense or energy to these misguided rants from the voices out in la-la land who speak from arenas in which I don't care to venture.

What's your take on all this? Feel free to email if you don't want to leave a public comment, but I'd like to know what you think.

BJ

Famous and Faithful: or Will Sucess Spoil Ruby Writer?

Sometimes me thinks we do protest too much ... particularly about the element of "success" as referred to in Christian writing, specifically in fiction.

We novelists in the Christian publishing market tend to measure our work (and even ourselves) by very stern standards indeed. In spite of the fact that we're compelled to achieve a certain measure of success in order to keep publishing (not too many publishers are interested in books that don't sell at least a modest number of copies), we try our best not to write with the goal of success in mind.

It does indeed reflect poorly on a writer in the Christian publishing marketplace--or, for that matter, the writer with a Christian worldview in the general publishing marketplace--to focus on the materialistic and commercial aspects of writing and publishing. Far more acceptable is the striving for literary excellence, purity of message, sound doctrine, and rock solid theology. True or false: it's better to offer our readers a carefully constructed, if somewhat "dry," novel emblazoned with doctrinal truths and theological tenets than a fast-flowing page-turner from a heart and imagination committed to Christ, but with a movement that's more story than sermon?

There seems a certain amount of hesitancy to discuss--at least outside the circle of close friends and perhaps one's editor--the nitty gritty need for moderate or significant success in publishing. I'm referring to sales figures and reader demand. It's more "acceptable" to couch references to the business side of art--and we hope that's what the writing of fiction is: an art, albeit one requiring skill and craft and experience, combined with a fair share of common sense and professional acumen--in phrases that highlight ministry and humility and outreach.

Before you even begin to misunderstand me, let me say that I wholeheartedly believe in and endorse ministry and humility and outreach, and if my motives for writing had much at all to do with pursuing success, I would have long ago given up the rocky road of publishing for a real job. Be assured that I do believe in the purity of our "message--" though I question whether fiction is the place for "message--" and I would hope that our theology is sound and never misleading. That's important, because even though the fiction writer had best not be writing theology, if our own doctrinal base and faith walk aren't what they should be, it will eventually bleed out into our novels, and that's not what we want to offer our readers.

That said, let me also add that I think it's quite possibly the biggest mistake a new or aspiring writer can make to believe that becoming a published author will bring recognition and riches. (The word "fantasy" comes to mind.) Whether we like to admit it or not, publishing is a challenging, difficult, competitive, downright grueling arena in which to play--it's not for the fainthearted and definitely not for those with delusions of pie in the sky. If you have to make a living, check the classifieds before taking up the writing of fiction.

But--along with art and ministry, most writers do need to be concerned with the admittedly elusive element of success. Publishers will not give us a free ride. They may, if they believe in our gift and our potential enough, do what they can to gain sales success for our books ... but only for so long. They're not in the business of delivering handouts or bestowing grants. They're in the business of staying afloat and even making a profit.

That being the case, it's no cause for embarrassment or uneasiness to admit the need for some measure of success. And along that same line, it's a scandal to even think, much less openly hint, that the most "successful" authors in the business have "sold out," that their work is somehow substandard just because they're selling lots of books. Be realistic enough and gracious enough to concede that poor sales aren't necessarily a measure of quality or excellence.

Does this happen? You bet it does. Too often there's an implied question about the quality of a mega-seller's work, while almost in the same breath a writer with low sales is esteemed for "pursuing excellence." I've been a part of the publishing industry for over twenty-five years and have friends who fit both sides of the success story, and I can tell you that only the very inexperienced--or naive--would attempt to value the quality of an author's work based on his or her sales success. Or lack thereof.

It seems to me that we're doing our new and younger writers a real disservice if we aren't willing to speak sanely and openly about writing being a business as well as an art. We can help instead of hinder by giving both areas the necessary  attention without pretending that each isn't essential to publishing our fiction.

Instead of hiding the realities behind the hedges, it's perfectly all right to be candid--within reason--and truthful in the way we approach all elements of the publishing process.

A writer-friend and I were discussing this subject the other day,  and we both concluded that the healthy first step in doing away with the perceived conflict between the art and business side of writing would seem to be the recognition that genuine professionalism needs to include a balanced mix of both.

BJ

Tell Me a Story

A bit of a rant:

What's happened to storytelling?

Recently, my husband and I decided to sample some of the films up for awards or a few that have already received awards over the past few months. So far I believe we've averaged about 30 minutes into each one (except two: ten minutes was enough for them). What a sorry selection.

The trend this year seems to be to bounce from one disjointed "scene" (you can probably figure out why I quoted the word) to another, with no real connection, no continuity, no real follow-through. Of course, the Hollywood agenda-driven films are still the ones making headlines. Then there's the jittery camera effect that makes all of them appear to have been made at home by pre-schoolers. And there's obviously a new award out this year: for the vilest of the vile language. And maybe another for the character-you-couldn't-care-less-about. And definitely another for mumbling one's lines. Mumbling, it seems, is our new vernacular.

We've been seeing way too much of this in novels as well, and it's not getting any better. With a couple of exceptions, so far this year I've failed to finish most of the novels I've started, for the same reason I didn't sit through the "award-winning" movies. No story. Just base, random jumping around by characters determined to shock or bore. There was a time when I gave every book its due. No longer. Too many "endings" come by page 50 these days. If I even get that far.

Is this truly, as I've read, a reflection of our contemporary culture? Is it what we want, what we deserve? Or is it, as I continue to hope, merely one more trend that will eventually fade into the night as movie-goers and readers finally say "enough" and begin to vote with their wallets?

I have to believe that, after all the experimenting and mindless, meaningless, and bent efforts on the part of a few have run their course, we'll come back to the art that has survived and entertained and nurtured and taught and inspired almost from the beginning of time itself.

The story: long may it live.

BJ

My Thanksgiving Wish for You

At the Hoff house, this is the week the holidays "officially" begin. We've already trimmed the tree--for some reason years ago we made it a tradition to always have the tree decorated before Thanksgiving. The wreaths and other decorations will go up this week, and by next Sunday I should have at least a few ideas for gift shopping. We've been playing Christmas music and downloading even more for several days now (actually, I have a few albums I play year-round as the mood moves me), and the cookie tins and trays will come down from the top shelves soon.

I'll be off the blog the rest of this week, so I wanted to take this opportunity to send each of you a special Thanksgiving wish. Following is the message I post every year. As always, I'm even more thankful for the "old" blessings that grow only more precious with time--and for the new ones granted since I last posted this Thanksiving entry ...   

~~~~~~~~~~

I’m thankful for the God who saved me, the family who loves me, the home that shelters me, the friends who believe in me, a church that welcomes me .... For seasons that change and truth that doesn’t ... For music that stirs and soothes and heals and speaks of feelings beyond those I can voice ... For a country that values freedom and is willing to pay the price to preserve it for ourselves and others .... I’m thankful for countless books to read, and for those readers who read the books I write, for the editors who make the books better, and for the publishers who make the books possible .... I’m thankful for small furry creatures that make me smile when nothing else can, for the sturdy oak trees in my back yard that grew up with my children and now shade my grandchildren and give sanctuary to my memories .... I’m thankful for every gift of goodness that brings me gladness, every trial that takes me to my knees, and every prayer uttered in my behalf that made a difference, though often unknown to the one who cared enough to pray ....

And I’m thankful for you, every one of you, that you trust me enough to ask me for an answer to a question or offer a word of encouragement or a prayer. You bless me again and again with your caring hearts. 

I wish you a bountiful, prayerful, joyful Thanksgiving and a holiday season that blankets you and those you love with amazing grace and enduring peace.

God bless you.

BJ

At the Hoff house, this is the week the holidays "officially" begin. We've already trimmed the tree--for some reason years ago we made it a tradition to always have the tree decorated before Thanksgiving. The wreaths and other decorations will go up this week, and by next Sunday I should have at least a few ideas for gift shopping. We've been playing Christmas music and downloading even more for several days now (actually, I have a few albums I play year-round as the mood moves me), and the cookie tins and trays will come down from the top shelves soon.

I'll be off the blog the rest of this week, so I wanted to take this opportunity to send each of you a special Thanksgiving wish. Following is the message I post every year. As always, I'm even more thankful for the "old" blessings that grow only more precious with time--and for the new ones granted since I last posted this Thanksiving entry ...   

~~~~~~~~~~

I’m thankful for the God who saved me, the family who loves me, the home that shelters me, the friends who believe in me, a church that welcomes me .... For seasons that change and truth that doesn’t ... For music that stirs and soothes and heals and speaks of feelings beyond those I can voice ... For a country that values freedom and is willing to pay the price to preserve it for ourselves and others .... I’m thankful for countless books to read, and for those readers who read the books I write, for the editors who make the books better, and for the publishers who make the books possible .... I’m thankful for small furry creatures that make me smile when nothing else can, for the sturdy oak trees in my back yard that grew up with my children and now shade my grandchildren and give sanctuary to my memories .... I’m thankful for every gift of goodness that brings me gladness, every trial that takes me to my knees, and every prayer uttered in my behalf that made a difference, though often unknown to the one who cared enough to pray ....

And I’m thankful for you, every one of you, that you trust me enough to ask me for an answer to a question or offer a word of encouragement or a prayer. You bless me again and again with your caring hearts. 

I wish you a bountiful, prayerful, joyful Thanksgiving and a holiday season that blankets you and those you love with amazing grace and enduring peace.

God bless you.

BJ

Choking on Agendas

I suppose you might call this a rant. But I prefer to call it an opinion piece. Gives it a touch more class, don't you think? Whatever you call it, it's my way of saying that I am weary and impatient and disgruntled with the Hollywood agenda. No--wait: let's expand that and make it the media agenda. 

This week my husband and I stopped three films in progress and turned off the DVD player because we're both really tired of having this and that agenda stuffed down our throats. We find ourselves doing this more and more often these days.

Filmmakers  have their own particular pets, as you undoubtedly know. By now we're all familiar with the anti-Bush agenda. The anti-war agenda. The anti-Christian (especially anti-evangelical) agenda. The anti-creationism agenda. And of course Michael Moore's anti-America agenda. On the pro side, we have the gay agenda and the feminist agenda and the abortion rights agenda and the--oh, you know. Unless you've been living in a cave, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

We're either being spoon-fed or, in a number of areas, force-fed, the beliefs and agendas of a media system that includes film, television, journalism, and publishing in general, and there seems to be no escaping it. In most areas, it's such a brazenly obvious attempt to influence our belief system that it would be ludicrous if it weren't so tiresome. Many of us are now to the point that we don't need to rent a movie to find the agenda contained within--we've only to watch the preview or read the review to know which corner of our minds they're going to mess with next. There are some efforts that are more subtle, of course. At least the originators would like to think so. But the practice has become so widespread it's growing increasingly difficult to effect any real degree of subtlety. The blow to the head seems to be hammering harder with every effort.

Not that this is really new. History confirms that there have always been attempts on the part of the media to inflict their convictions on the masses. Think of the anti-Catholic, anti-female suffrage, anti-civil rights movements. Why, there were even ... gasp ... all manner of anti-Irish campaigns (highly successful ones, I'm loath to add).

It's just that now the media encompasses such a huge, diverse--and powerful--bloc as opposed to yesterday, when the spear carriers were almost entirely dependent on the printed word of newspapers and books. Now independent thought, especially if it contains a modicum of morality or decency ... or common sense ... would seem to be at the mercy of a multitude of venues through which the values of a few can attempt to override the traditional values and beliefs of generations.

Think I'm exaggerating? Then pay closer attention to movie reviews--and the movies themselves. The slant of various newspaper articles and editorials. Magazine opinion pieces. The books populating the bestseller lists, especially those in, but not limited to, nonfiction. Television series. Video games. Oh--and don't forget school textbooks. And dare I mention blogs?

Certainly none of us can any longer be surprised by this. It's all too common, and it's been going on for years. What we are, I suspect, is tired of it all. Excessively tired. And that's the danger. When we become tired of a thing, we tend to tune it out, to ignore it, to discount it, to grow numb to its implications and its influence.

Just one example: consider the profanity and vulgarisms cropping up in today's television offerings, especially the series format. It hasn't been so many years ago that the words now being spewed on a weekly and even nightly basis would have launched a flood of viewer complaints to the respective networks and even caused a few sponsors to drop their ads. 

Then poll your local stations and/or some of the networks to see how many complaints they've received over the past few months.

Point taken?

BJ -- growing tired but trying not to grow numb.

A Prayer for Riley

I usually keep prayer requests among my group of prayer partners--make that prayer warriors, for truly they are--but I wanted to reach as many of you as possible with this request. 

My oldest daughter is a kindergarten teacher in a Christian school, and she has a little boy in her class named Riley Mitchell. Riley is a sweetheart of a child who loves all his classmates--and they, including the older students at the school, dearly love him.

Riley has a condition called Nevus, which basically involves a very large portion of his body being covered in extremely large growths similar to moles. This is a disease that can also affect the internal organs, including the brain.

Last year, it caused Riley to have hydrocephalus in his brain, and surgeons had to implant a shunt to regulate the fluid.  Yesterday he became very ill in class, and had to be taken to Children's Hospital in Columbus, where they've determined that the shunt is clogged, necessitating surgery to relieve the pressure. When this happened last year, he very nearly didn't make it. This morning, my daughter sent out a "broadcast" email asking for prayer for this child, who has become so special to his classmates ... and to her. She's asking that if you belong to a prayer chain at your church or elsewhere you might also enlist them in prayer for this little boy.

This is a "sunny" child who has many physical problems the rest of us can't begin to imagine--and a child who loves God, his family, his school, and his fellow students. Today, many of us are praying not only for this surgery--but for the kind of radical healing only God can provide.

So if you will, take a few moments and pray for Riley. And many thanks for caring.

BJ 

Wednesday's Words

First, I should mention that I've been tapped for a Rockin' Girl Blogger award. Now this is an occasion for me, because so far as I know--with the possible exception of my grandsons--I have never been referred to as "rockin'" anything. So thank you for this, Angie. The problem is that I'm supposed to nominate five others, but between Angie, Cindy Swanson, and numerous others, it looks as though the gal blogs I visit have already been tagged!

~~~~~

A couple of years ago I wrote an entry for Grace Notes about "The Heart of a Novel," in which I talked about the differences perceived between a particular novel of technical excellence (and a lot of literary hoopla) and another, not so elegantly written but obviously issuing from the author's passion. In brief, I explained why the former didn't work for me, despite its success in terms of sales and awards, and why the latter did reach me on a level I don't often experience, even though it achieved no great success and had a few technical weaknesses. It all came down to the second novel's heart. To quote myself, from the former blog entry:

"I put if off for several weeks, then finally--because I knew I’d eventually be asked for my take on it--picked it up and began to read with all the enthusiasm I’d devote to reading an insurance policy. If you’re running ahead of me, you already know that I liked the book. A lot. It wasn’t written with any more finesse or technical excellence than others I’d found lacking. But it had a story that absolutely riveted me, with one character who made me weep at times and other times laugh aloud, a character I found myself desperately wanting to succeed in spite of all the signals that she would do no such thing.

"And then there was the book that everyone was talking about. Think the novel of the year. A raging success among literary readers and some commercial readers–no small feat, that. Awards piled high. Nothing but stellar reviews. A sensation, by an author likened to Dickens and Updike and others ...

"Think boring. I made it through maybe a hundred pages before asking myself why I'd bothered. The book couldn’t have been more 'perfect,' technically, with prose that sang and rang and swept and soared. But it gave me no reason--none--to turn just one more page. The various settings took me to places I’d never been–and never wanted to go again. The characters were smart and witty and charming and--lifeless and seemingly heartless, since I never caught so much as a peek into their real feelings.

"So why did I, at first convinced that I didn’t want to read the former novel, stay with it and actually become a part of its 'world,' when the latter novel left me yawning? In the case of the former, I could sense a spirit of reality, honesty, and the very depth of emotion--and the author’s love for her own characters--throughout the entire story. In the case of the latter, though seemingly 'perfect' and brimming with the author’s intelligence and mastery of language and detail, it was just another book. A book that captured neither my interest nor my emotions.

"It’s all about the heart of the novel. That’s what accounts for the difference. And it's a big, important difference." (If you should want to read the entire post, go to the Archives and look under August, 2005, for "The Heart of a Novel." For some reason, I can't get the link to work.)

All that to get to this point: In the intervening months--about two years, actually--I've seen history repeat itself more than I would have thought possible. I haven't kept count, but I've read several books reputed to be of major literary value and excellence--and I've also read even more that in some cases were highly recommended, but others I've simply come upon by chance or from word of mouth.

And the same thing just keeps happening. To the point that I have a near knee-jerk reaction these days when a book is fawned and salivated over, when it's deemed a "literary triumph" or a "masterpiece." You've seen the hype--you know what I'm talking about: the kind of book which seems to trigger a stampede on the part of some readers desperate to be a part of the adoring crowd, to make certain their contemporaries know they "got" the book.  It's so bad now that I almost automatically reject the idea of reading such books. (But my curiosity wins every now and then, and I try a few of them anyway.)

It just happened again, recently. But this time, instead of measuring a so-called literary triumph against another, less "acclaimed" novel, I explored my reactions between the former and a golden novel I'd read a couple of decades ago and recently reread, just for sheer pleasure.

In its time, the older novel had been a commercial success, though not without its criticisms. In short, it had a great run but had never been held up as an example to which all authors should aspire, in terms of literary excellence. It was simply a great story with unforgettable characters, a story written well ... and with evident passion. The author had penned the story from her heart, and consequently it resonated with countless readers nationwide, and eventually worldwide.

Again the former book left me with a certain sense of emptiness, almost as if I'd been cheated. To be brutally honest, it reeked of the worst sin with which a book can be charged: it was boring. It wasn't that long ago that I read it, and even now I can't remember the names of the primary characters or much about the "story."  But the characters in the latter book had stayed with me for years, and I was as taken with them again as I had been the first time. 

My point? Well, although this started out as an "editorial page," I think I really intend it as an exhortation to those who are writing and those who hope to write. If you want to build a strong, loyal readership who will follow you across the years, don't be afraid to open that proverbial vein and allow yourself to bleed on the pages of your work. Build for your readers a world in which they can lose themselves, at least temporarily, with characters they can't forget--characters with whom they will laugh and cry, characters they can care deeply about. Rather than writing to please the market or the critics or the award events, write to share your heart with the hearts of your readers.

Give them stories they'll keep as treasures, stories they'll take down from the shelves in another twenty years and find the same magic, the same heart they discovered the first time through.

Write your heart out.

BJ

Wednesday's Words

It occurred to me recently that this blog could use an editorial page. That's right: an editorial page. For the most part, I've tried to  keep Grace Notes as a place where both readers and writers can drop by, read what they want, leave input as they like--or not--while  maintaining a fairly narrow focus on books and all things relative to books for those who read and write them.

But every now and then I've felt the urge to depart and simply leave an opinion on something that may--or may not--have anything at all to do with reading or writing. Yes, I hear you: I haven't exactly withheld my opinions in any event. And I know that with some of you, every entry to your blog is a kind of editorial, in that it's an opinion piece and deeply profound. Still, give me a little credit: I've tried to keep the posts here relevant to the original purpose ... most of the time. That said--after so long a time of blogging (do you know how much I dislike that word? Couldn't someone have come up with a term that sounds less like a gag reflex?) it's nice to have something a little different every now and then, right?

And Wednesday seems like a good day for that sort of thing, don't you think? So today's the first ...

In a recent "Words for Today" on the sidebar, I published a quote that went something like this (this isn't verbatim, but it's close):  "In trying to become great, we make ourselves small." A friend questioned me about what, exactly, I meant by this. Well, it wasn't my quote--I can't even remember who said it now. But I interpreted it to mean that an individual's quest to become "somebody" can actually diminish the self. In setting out on the road to achieve celebrity and renown, a person can easily bypass the opportunities and learning experiences, the events and consequences of those events, that might ultimately lead to true greatness of character.

A Paris Hilton can become so addicted to the publicity and status of celebrity that she never grows up, never discovers that underneath all the superficial glamour, behind the headlines and soundbites, exists a real person--a person worth discovering and developing and nurturing. A political power broker can become so drunk on that power and the skewed illusion of his achievements that somewhere along the way he abdicates his role as husband, father, neighbor, and friend and begins to exist as a husk, a straw man in a vacuum of moral compromise and corruption. A charismatic evangelist can become so seduced by the attentions of his fawning followers and his adoring entourage that he begins to see himself as a prince of the people rather than as a servant of God. And a wildly popular, acclaimed writer--even a Christian writer--can become so infatuated with his "art," her literary success, his  awards, and her increasingly expanding "ministry" that he's no longer teachable, no longer reachable.

"Celebrity" has become nothing less than a culture all its own, even in the realm of Christian publishing and music. And if you feel the need for me to elaborate on that, you're not reading the trade journals, the newspapers, or the magazines.

I've long been fascinated with the "ordination covenant" of A. W. Tozer, the prayer he poured out to God shortly after he was ordained by the council of the Christian and Missionary Alliance church. Tozer, as you probably know, went on from that solitary place on an old campground to become a famous preacher whose persona, pulpit and writing ministry are now the "stuff of legend." This "twentieth-century prophet" could have easily garnered all manner of wealth and renown. Instead, he served the same Chicago pulpit for 31 of his 44 years in ministry. He studied--Tozer was an almost obsessive reader--he preached, he wrote, and he mentored. He gave away much of his income and, like D.L. Moody, refused to be diverted by the trappings of fame. To the end of his days, he remained an entirely focused, dedicated pastor and Christian mystic who avoided anything that even hinted of religious deceit and the trivial. He spent more time on his knees and prostrate before his Lord than most of us will spend in a lifetime of 24-hour days seeking for enlightenment, accomplishment, entertainment, and worldly pleasure.

The covenant he made before God after his ordination as a young preacher was lengthy, exhaustive, and severe. He recognized the enemy of the flock and the false shepherds who were then, and even more so now, deceiving God's people. Even though he knew himself to be divinely "chosen," he faced the reality of being "a man of dust and ashes, a man with all the natural faults and passions that plague the race of men." And in that powerful, vulnerable ordination prayer, he asked this (taken from James L. Snyder's biography of Tozer--In Pursuit of God): "Forbid that I should become a religious scribe and thus lose my prophetic calling. Save me from the curse that lies dark across the face of the modern clergy, the curse of compromise, of imitation, of professionalism. Save me from the error of judging a church by its size, its popularity or the amount of its yearly offerings. Help me to remember that I am a prophet--not a promoter, not a religious manager ... Let me never become a slave to crowds. Heal my soul of carnal ambitions and deliver me from the itch for publicity. Save me from bondage to things ... I accept hard work and small rewards in this life. I ask for no easy place. I shall try to be blind to the little ways that could make my life easier ... I shall expect opposition and try to take it quietly when it comes. Or if, as sometimes it falleth out to Thy servants, I should have grateful gifts pressed upon me by Thy kindly people, stand by me then and save me from the blight that often follows. Teach me to use whatever I receive in such manner that it will not injure my soul or diminish my spiritual power. If in Thy permissive providence honor should come to me from Thy church, let me not forget in that hour that I am unworthy of the least of Thy mercies and that if men knew me as intimately as I know myself they would withhold their honors or bestow them upon others more worthy to receive them ... "

Can you find in that the "measure of the man?"  I don't know about you, but I can not begin to even think of myself in the same moment as the likes of a Tozer or a Moody or a Graham without feeling myself shrink to a level of smallness that totally humiliates me.

While some are intent on building a personal or corporate empire with the gifts bestowed upon them, others live a life of sacrifice and service and humility. While some would claim all honor for themselves, others shrink in the face of accolades and bow before the Cross. And while some can find no value in anything that doesn't benefit their own desires and ambitions, there are still others who daily put to death their personal dreams and aspirations in order that their emptiness might be filled and used by the Spirit of God. 

Today, the world, our country, the church--are in desperate need of pastors and writers and musicians--in need of Christian artists in every field--who are willing to ignore the potential for celebrity and wealth, willing to live sacrificial lives, to become servants, to become small, so that what we do and all we do will be more useful to the Lord and to His people than to ourselves.

From the ones who are responsible and possess the means to create celebrity to those who have ever given the slightest passing thought to celebrity, can we somehow find the courage to pray, as A. W. Tozer did: "Let me stand before the great or minister to the poor and lowly. That choice is not mine, and I would not influence it if I could. I am Thy servant to do Thy will, and that will is sweeter to me than position or riches or fame. I choose it above all things on earth or in heaven."

BJ